#but at the same time-- the other plausible meaning to the song that clicked in my head first before reading others' analysis of it is that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

run-me-through-but-not-like-that · 2 years ago

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Super Secret Services

Summary: Izzy sees a sex worker but not for what you might expect. He finds himself paying for your services every time he is in port, only the lines between fantasy and reality begin to blur until he can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.

Word Count: 9414

The room was filled with quiet chatter and the clinking of cups. Things were relatively slow for an afternoon but it was normally quieter than the evenings, that’s when everything normally picked up.

The establishment you worked in was far from your worst option. It wasn’t anything special but it was held in good regard on the port it was located in, the people you worked with were like a family, and the madame that ran the place cared about those who worked for her.

You were tucked away in a corner, talking to one of the girls you worked with, Val. The two of you pressed close to each other to share private conversation in a room where privacy wasn’t often given.

“I’m telling you, I think you have a bit of a regular now,” you insisted. The same man had been by once a week for nearly a month now, and always waited until Val made an appearance to approach anyone.

Val just hummed, glancing over at the familiar man. “He’s not too bad. Knows what he wants and leaves decent tips,” she shrugged.

“Ah, good man,” you laughed a little to yourself.

She laughed along lightly but her face only truly brightened when he looked over your shoulder. You just cocked an eyebrow at her questioningly.

Val inched a little closer, her smile morphing into a small smirk. “Look who just wandered in,” she nudged you. You rolled your eyes fondly but still subtly looked over your shoulder, seeing the one and only Israel Hands walking into the mainroom. “Your boyfriend’s back,” she teased in a sing-song voice.

“Boyfriend,” you huffed, turning back to her with a glare, “shut up.”

“Aw, I think it’s cute. He won’t even talk to anyone but you,” Val continued.

“Knows I can give him what he needs,” you winked, making her laugh. Once her laughing died down, your expression turned serious. “Seriously though, remember what I said?”

“Not a word about the first mate,” she vowed, just as serious, “can’t help but notice the pattern, though.”

This wasn’t Hands’ first visit to you or this establishment but he appeared to keep those visits a secret. When he had first sought you out, he had paid extra and stressed just how confidential he expected this to be. Of course, you had agreed, but other people who you worked with were bound to notice his repeated appearances. Thankfully, your line of work included a lot of secrecy and confidentiality, so nobody had a problem with keeping it to themselves.

“Gotta go,” you give Val a smile before turning away from her. Val chuckled to herself, fixing up her hair before getting back to work.

Izzy was sat at the bar, ordering himself a drink. You sauntered over casually, leaning against the bar with a cocked hip, just a couple inches too close to the older man. “First mate Hands,” you greeted him with a smile.

“Afternoon,” Izzy nodded back politely. You bit back a bigger smile. He could be so adorable, barely even able to look at you.

“Sammy!” you called the young bartender over. He slid over with a smile. “I’m gonna head up to my room for a bit if anyone asks for me, it’s kinda slow around here.”

“No worries, I’ll let them know,” Sammy nodded, sweet and knowing. You thanked him and gave Izzy a meaningful look before heading up to your room.

It wasn’t long, but an appropriate amount of time later that left room available for plausible deniability, before Izzy walked into your room. He didn’t greet you, only looked over to acknowledge you sitting on the foot of your bed. He locked the door behind him, shutting the world out.

“You look stressed, love,” you were in front of him in an instant, stepping into his space and loosening the collar of his shirt. The click of the door’s lock triggered the beginning of the session, meaning you were allowed to touch him.

“Always stressed,” Izzy murmured, watching your hands as you worked.

“I’m sure, you have a very stressful job,” you sympathised. It was true, Izzy always came in here stressed, but there was something different this time. “Something new happened recently?”

“...boss has a new plan, I suppose. Working with a new crew,” he told you as you finished undoing the top couple of buttons of his shirt and loosened his cravat.

“They any good?” you asked, smoothing your hands over his chest.

“Terrible. Half of them aren’t even sailors, the captain is a rich ponce who just bought a ship and gives the crew a wage.” Izzy was so much more willing to talk than he was during his first visit, having asked for silent company rather than anything else. He opened up so much more these days, trusting that you kept your mouth shut.

“A wage is generous,” you hummed. “Not the way things are usually run though. You working for this new captain?”

“They’re trying to talk me into it, can’t see myself ever answering to that man,” Izzy scoffed. You bit back a small smirk, seeing his stubbornness raising to the surface. “Doesn’t matter though,” he sighed, sounding far too defeated for your liking.

“‘Course it does,” you insisted, hands stroking down his arms, resting against his elbows. “Why do you think it doesn’t matter?”

“The captain doesn’t respect me, neither does his crew,” he told you.

“What? You’re Israel Hands, how can they not respect you at least a little based on that alone?” you asked, face scrunching up in genuine confusion.

“They don’t care. Don’t fucking listen,” Izzy shrugged. He was tense, clearly he needed a little trip to this port.

“Alright. Would you like a choice?” you offered. Izzy nodded, relaxing a little like a physical weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Do you want to talk about this some more or do you want to get comfortable and forget it for a while?” you asked kindly, making sure to speak in a way that didn’t influence his choice. Izzy always seemed to find these things easier when you gave him choices rather than open ended questions, you had learnt that pretty quickly about him.

Izzy let out a breath, relaxing further. “Get comfortable,” he decided.

“Can I remove a few layers?” you asked and he nodded.

All that leather just couldn’t be comfortable, he had to be overwarm in the middle of the Caribbean, but he always came in wearing the same thing. You carefully unbuttoned his waistcoat, removing it and folding it before putting it down. Then you removed his cravat, something he hadn’t let you touch during your first session but now trusted you to do so. You folded the ring in his cravat and placed it safely down with his waistcoat.

Taking Izzy by the hand, you led him over to the bed and sat him down on the edge. He just watched as you knelt down in front of him and removed his boots, you slid them off and neatly placed them by the bottom of the bed.

“There we go, darling,” you smiled as you stood again.

Izzy didn’t speak, just let you arrange the blankets and fluff the pillows before making yourself comfortable. You gestured for him to join you and he did, lowering him down by your side. You guided him a little closer, encouraging him to relax even more. He followed, draping himself over you and dipping his face down against your neck as you played with his hair.

Despite the type of profession Izzy had sought out all that time ago, cuddling while mostly fully clothed was the most physically intimate thing the two of you had ever done during his visits to your room

You could remember the first time he approached you, it would be pretty difficult not to remember being approached by Blackbeard’s first mate.

It was an afternoon like any other, you hadn’t even noticed him walk in. You did, however, notice him sitting alone at his table in the back corner, nursing his drink. He was assessing the room, waved off anyone that approached him but wasn’t particularly rude about it. He looked like he wanted to be left alone, so you didn’t approach to offer him some of your time. You remember thinking it was a bit of a shame. He was handsome, you wouldn’t have minded spending an hour or two with him.

It was Sammy who had told you exactly who that man was, always being up to date with the latest coming and goings on this port. Israel Hands, Blackbeard’s first mate. It only increased your interest in him but he did not look like he was looking for company, so you kept away to lessen your risk of being maimed.

It must have been about an hour after you noticed him that he approached you, pulled you to the side. A part of you actually expected him to ask for directions or something, maybe to see your madame, maybe they had business together. Instead he asked if you respected the idea of client confidentiality, you assured him you did, of course. Anything the two of you did during your time together, unless somebody got injured, would be completely private and wouldn’t leave those four walls.

You still don’t know what he saw when he assessed you after that, but it must have been what he was looking for because he asked to speak in your room. It wasn’t standard procedure but you figured you could make an exception for such a well known name, so you led him to your room. He had placed a large purse coin down, more than a client would normally pay, and you found yourself almost worrying about what he wanted from your services.

Then, he asked you to sit with him. To just…be in each other’s company. He was stiff, sat at least a foot away from you. You were half way through the hour he was paying for when you first touched him, just a hand against his shoulder. He seemed like he needed that touch…something soft and kind.

It was almost miraculous to you that the man you met that day was the same man that lay with you now, face pressing closer to your neck with your hand buried in his hair.

“I haven’t seen you this tense since the first time you came to see me,” you massaged his scalp “I hope things begin to get easier soon, love, or at least get back to normal.”

“Can we…just not talk for a while. Just want to…feel…” Izzy requested, which thrilled you a little. Asking for something so vulnerable, it felt like some sort of progress. Even if you still weren’t completely sure what it was that the two of you were doing together.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you agreed, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. You heard him let out a surprised little breath but didn’t comment on it.

The two of you lay in silence for a moment. He had relaxed against you but his muscles were still tense under your hands. Izzy had never actually fallen asleep in your room before and, while you thought he looked in need of a nap, he didn’t seem to be trying to fall asleep now either.

“Do you want me to call for a bath or do you just want to lay here?” you asked. A good soak could really help with all that tension.

Izzy was quiet for a moment, you knew by now that meant he was thinking. You didn’t rush him. “...a bath sounds good,” he whispered.

“Gonna take good care of you, love,” you vowed. Izzy smiled against your neck, tucking his face in a little closer in an attempt to hide it. He believed you, because you always did. Ever since you first lay a hand on his shoulder, you seemed to know what he needed.

A month later, the Revenge docks at the familiar port. Izzy moves like he’s in a trace, just going through the motions, but his feet know exactly where to take him. He trudges off of the busier streets and slips through the door of the small establishment, taking a seat at the bar.

He orders his drink but just stares at it, the chatter around him fading into a constant buzzing sound. A hand settles against his shoulder, feeling heavier than it actually was. It made everything in Izzy’s body tense until he caught a faint familiar scent, it was whatever you usually wore. A perfume or lotion of some kind, a smell that Izzy had come to associate with comfort.

“-I’ll be in my room.” He caught the end of your sentence and then your hand was lifted, the only thing anchoring him to his seat. Without it, he felt like he might float away.

Normally he would leave some time before following you up, just long enough for plausible deniability, but this time he didn’t wait. Couldn’t even consider it. He left his full cup on the bartop and slipped from his seat, heading up to your room.

You weren’t on the other side of the room when he entered, you were right by the door, quick to lock the door and usher him inside. His dazed state continued but he felt the plush give of your mattress as you sat him down.

“Izzy, you with me?” you asked steadily, hands gentle against his shoulders, just enough pressure for him to know that you were there.

Izzy nodded weakly. He could hear you, but he didn’t seem quiet with you. Something about him felt so absent.

“Breathe with me, okay?”

You crouched down in front of him so that he would meet your gaze, taking his hands in yours. He gave another small nod and followed you through some breathing exercises, trusting you to lead him in the correct direction.

After a couple of minutes, though Izzy really didn’t have much sense of the time that passed, he was feeling more grounded and present. He wasn’t on the Revenge anymore or wandering through town. He was inside your room, his hands in yours. The place he felt safest in this port.

“Izzy…what happened?” you asked, nothing but worry and concern on your face.

“...Bonnet left,” was the only answer you got, his voice void of any emotion.

Bonnet, the other captain they had been sailing with. Izzy didn’t like talking about it but it had been obvious that he didn’t like the man, you would have thought that him leaving would be a good thing.

“Okay…okay, and what else?” you asked carefully, just wanting to understand, wanting to know how to help.

“Edward he…he’s different. He’s hurt and…fuck…” his voice caught in his throat, voice cracking slightly.

“Alright, love, it’s okay. You’re safe here, just breathe with me,” you were quick to soothe him again, an instinctual reaction to his distress.

“Come on, lets get some of these suffocating clothes off.”

When Izzy didn’t protest, you slowly removed his waistcoat and cravat, just like you usually did. The only difference was you being a little more on watch for signs of protest or discomfort than usual.

Then you moved onto his boots, removing one and then the other. As you slid off his second boot, you saw the bandage wrapped around his foot. You frowned to yourself, thumb tracing the edge of the bandage. Was he missing a toe?

“Oh…what happened?” you weren't sure if you would get an answer and you wouldn’t push if he didn’t want to talk about it.

“It doesn’t…” Izzy was going to dismiss it, brush you off, but then he looked down at you properly, made the mistake of meeting your gaze. You were looking up at him through your lashes with sad, caring eyes. Fuck, if he didn’t know any better he’d think you actually cared. “It was Edward,” he found himself almost unable to lie to you, “punishment for Bonnet leaving.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you knew better than to discuss that mess with him, but you made sure to give him the sympathy he deserved. “Does it still hurt?”

“Yeah, it’s healing alright, though,” Izzy admitted.

“I’m so sorry, Izzy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his ankle, short and tender. Izzy choked on a silent gasp, but you moved on like it was nothing. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked.

“No…no, please.” He couldn’t talk about it, he just couldn’t. Right now, he just wanted you to do whatever it was you did that made everything feel manageable again.

“Then it won’t be mentioned again, love,” you promised before releasing his injured foot.

You stood again but remained close. You undid a few buttons of his shirt, hoping it might help him feel like breathing was a little easier.

“Want to lie down?” you asked. Simple choices were probably the best thing to offer him right now.

“Please,” Izzy breathed out.

The two of you found yourselves huddled up in the centre of the bed like you usually did, cradling Izzy close to your body. “I’ve got you, Izzy. Just close all of that out for now. That’s out there, in here it’s just us,” you reminded him softly.

Outside was cold and dangerous and difficult, but in here it was warm and soft and safe.

It was like you flipped a switch, Izzy snapping and finally letting the dam break. The first broken cry he let out made your chest again, you had never seen him this bad before. He sobbed into your neck, letting out everything he was feeling. You didn’t care that he was wetting your clothes or pillows, you only held him tighter.

You weren’t keeping an eye on the time as he cried, just focused on soothing the way his body shook. When the tears dried and the shaking stopped, you wiped the left over wetness from his face and kissed his forehead.

“Sleep, love. You need it.”

Izzy knew it wasn’t a good idea to fall asleep in your bed but he didn’t have it in him to protest or tell you all the reasons why he shouldn’t. He finally let the exhaustion flood over him and sink into his bones. He fell asleep in your arms.

When Izzy leaves that session, it was reluctant, a look of longing and dread mixing in his features. He left a larger tip this time than usual, as if you needed monetary reparations for holding him through his breakdown. You supposed he was just paying you for a service and you certainly didn’t make a habit of forgetting that with clients, but you couldn’t deny when real connections formed and occurred.

Two months passed with no sign of Izzy. It was uncommon these days to not see the man on his nearly timetabled visits, but you tried not to let it bother you, tried not to let the others see the way you scanned the bar for the familiar leather. He was a pirate and a client, it wasn’t something you should even think about, certainly not something you should dwell on. But the state he had been in when you last saw him…

“Your leather clad little man hasn’t dropped by for a while,” Mark commented one morning, managing to catch you alone.

“Do you all know about him?” you asked with a small huff. First Val, now Mark.

“He kinda stands out,” Mark defended himself.

“Oh, we’re talking about your pirate?” Val asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You just sighed, accepting your nosy co-workers. “Something go wrong last time?”

Despite how concerned you had been for Izzy after his last visit and how it had sat in the back of your mind, you hadn’t spoken a word to any of your friends. You had promised that much to Izzy and you would respect that.

“He’s just a client,” you insisted petulantly.

“Maybe so, but you at least care about him somewhat,” Mark pointed out as if it was obvious. You just glared at him. “You know that young, quiet fella that comes in here?” you sighed and nodded, letting him make his argument. “He’s a sweetheart. Ain’t gonna fall in love with him or nothing, but I wish him the best. Kinda care about what happens to him,” he admitted with a small shrug.

“Fine, alright…I guess I’m just worried,” you confessed.

“Worried?” Val frowned a little. They knew he was a pirate, a pretty renowned one, but you had never seemed overly worried about him being at sea before.

“He normally comes in about once a month, right?” you recalled and they nodded knowingly. “His ship circles back here regularly, he comes here when they dock. It’s a little strange they haven’t stopped by for two months and last time he admitted that the situation was a little…uncertain,” you didn’t want to give too many details, nothing about Izzy’s condition, but your friends wanted to support you and maybe you needed their support.

“Think something happened to him?” Mark asked.

“Maybe. Something was just so wrong last time I saw him, y’know? Can’t quite let it go,” you dragged your hand over your face. You had never gotten attached to a client. You’ve had sympathy for them in certain circumstances, you were all human after all, but never like this.

“Hey, we’re here for you,” Val’s voice was soft and comforting as she embraced you, letting you deflate against her.

It was another two months later because a familiar leather clad figure walked into the main room.

You were perched on the edge of a table, speaking with a group of men, giggling at their shitty jokes and batting your lashes at them. Glancing over at the door when you heard it had become a habit for you, so it wasn’t surprising that you saw him almost immediately.

At the sight of the familiar man, you froze. You felt like your body was buzzing. “If you excuse me gentlemen, I think I need to get myself a drink,” you tried to maintain your sultry expression as you slipped off of the table. You think you managed to play it pretty cool. “I’ll send some of my friends over?”

The men all gave an affirmative, cheering among themselves. You flashed them a final wink before spinning and crossing the room, instantly forgetting all about them.

Izzy was standing by the bar, but he just waved Sammy away when he asked what he wanted. He turned at the sound of footsteps, there was only one person here who bothered approaching him anymore.

“My room?” Normally you would be so direct, would play the little game you usually do, but something felt like that was necessary this time. It didn’t feel like it was expected.

Izzy nodded.

You turned on your heel, hearing your blood rushing in your ears as you walked up to your room. Izzy didn’t linger behind, only a few steps behind you. You entered the room first and he locked the door before just looking at you, seeming unsure of himself. Your routine had been disturbed, he didn’t know where he stood. All he knew when the ship docked at this port was that there was only one place he actually wanted to go.

“You’re alive,” you observed intelligently.

“You thought otherwise?” Izzy asked, though he didn’t actually sound very offended or surprised. It was a valid risk in his line of work.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure. After what you said last time and it being so long…I was worried,” you confessed. You always wanted him to be open and vulnerable with you, it only felt fair to offer some of the same.

Izzy frowned a little. “Worried?”

He was…surprised? Confused? “Of course, I was worried, Izzy,” you rolled your eyes fondly, shaking your head in disbelief. Could you spend so much time with somebody in such a vulnerable state without coming to care for them in some way?

“Well, uh…I’m alright,” Izzy reassured, like he had never had to do that before. Not sincerely anyway.

“Good,” you smiled, hoping that he knew that you truly were happy he was alright. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking,” it had been bugging you for months now but you knew there was a good chance Izzy wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“Edward didn’t want to stop at ports for a while, I won’t get into it. Bonnet came back and things were…I wasn’t sure how things were going to go,” Izzy admitted, something close to fear flashing on his face. A memory of the Gentleman Pirate’s return. “Guess things have just gone back to normal, they finally decided to stop by a port and restock properly, repair the ship. Things are…still getting figured out, it’s unstable but…it’s better.”

“And you?” As pleased as you were to hear that things appeared to be looking up for his crew, you were more concerned about how he was.

Izzy blinked at you, head tilting ever so slightly to the side. “What do you mean?”

“How are you?”

Izzy seemed to consider it for a moment. He was a lot of things, had been a lot more things over the last few months, most of which he had tried to repress and push down as deep as possible. “...tired,” he admitted, shoulders dropping.

You smiled affectionately, a little sadly. “Let’s get you some rest then, yeah?” you both knew what that meant.

“Yeah,” Izzy sighed, giving his assent.

You worked in silence as you carefully went about your routine, stripping him of his more confining layers. As you removed his boots, you sneaked a peek at his two to see that it was more healed than when you last saw it.

You lay him down on plush pillows and blankets before joining him on the bed, caressing his cheek. Izzy let out a soft breath, leaning into your warm touch. “Glad to have you back, Iz,” you whispered out into the silence, “I missed you.”

It makes him ache, that somebody might actually be able to say those words to him and actually mean it. It was those moments that he craved the most with you, and yet they were the same moments that most reminded him that you were being paid for just this.

He couldn’t take his eyes away from yours as you brushed your thumb over the tattoo under his eye. You shifted forward and then your lips were touching his. The kiss was light and tender, chaste even. Izzy still gasped into it, still stared at you like you hung the stars when you pulled back from him.

“Let’s get you comfy,” you smiled, letting him curl up into your embrace.

Izzy’s next visit was about a month later, and you were pleased to see that your usual schedule seemed to be returning. He also seemed more like himself than he was on his last two visits, and that pleased you as well. He was always stressed, you were beginning to think it was in his nature, but he seemed less stressed this visit. Maybe things back on his ship and with his crew were doing better these days.

You didn’t go about your normal routine of telling Sammy that you would be in your room where Izzy could overhear so he could join you a few minutes later. He just followed you up.

When offered a nap or a bath, Izzy chose a bath. It both surprised and pleased you, he seemed to enjoy his bath the last time you offered one.

You had the tub filled with warm water and set up the room divider to offer some privacy. Izzy disappeared behind the divider and sank down into the bath.

You listened to the movement of water from the otherside of the divider. “Mind if I come around?” you asked. You had seen him bathe that last time, gave him privacy to climb into the tub before sitting with him just the same, but still thought it best to ask.

“Sure.”

You rounded the divider with a smile and sat on the stool beside the tub. “Want some help?” you offered.

Izzy considered it for a moment. You thought it was such a big step that he was even considering it, if you had offered such an intimate gesture during his first couple of visits he surely would have ran from the room.

He had only bathed in your room once before and you hadn’t touched him during it, just sat and talked with him while he soaked. Izzy took a moment to remind himself that you had always been beyond respectful of his boundaries, only wanting to give what he wanted to receive.

“Yeah, okay,” Izzy nodded and you tried not to let your glee show.

You hummed quietly to yourself as you worked, first starting with his hair. Lathering the shampoo and massaging it into his scalp. Izzy found himself drifting away under your touch, a fuzzy feeling appearing in the back of his head. You were really good at this, he couldn’t remember the last time somebody washed his hair for him. Must have been when he was a very young boy.

Once his hair was cleaned, you moved on to washing his body. You took your time, taking things slow, making sure you didn’t surprise him with any touches, that he could always anticipate where your hands were going next.

You knew he was hard, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t. Your hand had brushed against him as you dragged the soapy cloth over his stomach. It had made his breath hitch loudly but neither of you commented on it, letting it pass as an innocent accident.

Once you were satisfied with your job, you placed the cloth down over the side of the tub but dipped your hand back into the water. It was still warm but cooling. Your fingertips grazed against his knee, making Izzy twitch but he didn’t comment on it, just watched you.

Slowly and softly, you slid your hand up the inside of his thigh. Before your hand could reach the very top of his thigh, Izzy caught you around your wrist and you stopped immediately, meeting his gaze.

“You make the rules, Iz, you set the boundaries. Will only do what you want,” you reminded him, soft but serious.

Izzy assessed you for a moment, eyes flickering over your features. He must find what he was searching for because he slowly released your wrist and took his hand away.

“Will you let me make you feel good, Iz?” you asked, still not wanting to progress without clear consent. Izzy nodded, you smiled softly. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Yeah…” Izzy’s voice was quiet but it didn’t shake, he sounded sure.

“Thank you, love.”

He nearly fucking passed out. Did you just fucking thank him? Thank him for letting you touch him, letting you get him off, what the fuck?

Your hand was soft and your hold was just firm enough. Your touch was sweet and slow, nothing about it feeling rushed. Izzy gasped out, more from surprise than anything. He’d been tugged off before, it was…fine. This was better somehow.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked.

Izzy nodded and was rewarded with two things. Your mouth against his and a twist of your wrist, he gasped into your mouth again.

The way you kissed him was deep and slow, all consuming. It set his nerves on fire, his hands gripping on the edges of the tub. He could touch you, he supposed, didn’t think you would scold him for it, but still avoided it.

Instead, he just let himself lose himself to the sensations you provided. Your kisses trailed over his jaw and neck, covering every inch of flushed skin, but they were always soft and sweet, never hurried or biting. Like you were fucking savouring it.

It wasn’t long, almost embarrassingly quick, before Izzy felt the fire curling in his belly. You just praised him for his release, smiling sweetly at him. You worked him through his high, pulling your hand away just as overstimulation began to creep in.

You took the dirtied cloth to quickly clean him up again before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

Izzy followed your lead, stepping out of the bath and drying off. He only put his smalls back on before climbing into the bed, the most undressed he had ever been in your sheets.

You lay on your back, cradling his head against your chest and playing with his hair. Izzy just lay there, being held by you, his mind racing. He couldn’t help but feel like he had tarnished something.

He was under no illusions about what this was but he had felt like your little arrangement was somewhat…pure. You both understood what you had, what you were doing, and now he felt like it was tainted. And it was his fault. He had ruined this.

This was literally your job, to be whatever he paid for, right? It was his own fault for feeling some sort of connection that didn’t actually exist, that you had fabricated by his request. If he didn’t feel pathetic before, he did now. Surely, getting off was what most people aimed for when hiring your services, it was his fault for asking for something different. He could keep playing along but he was worried that you would assume he had gotten what he came for, that all of these visits had just been some elaborate build up to his orgasm. But, surely, if he just kept paying you…you would still do all the things he liked, right? The company, the gentle touches, you would still hold him and let him talk, right?

You sighed as his breathing evened out and Izzy fell asleep on you. You planted another kiss to the top of his head, just for yourself. You didn’t think you would have it in you to wake him when the time came, he just looked so peaceful.

It really had been difficult for you to bring yourself to wake him when the time came but you knew you had to, he would only be leaving stressed if he was off schedule. So, you woke him up gently and helped him dress just to see his face heat up.

You saw him out like you usually do but this time you asked for another kiss before he left. He granted your request, even though he didn’t understand why you would even make the offer when your time was up.

The kiss was just as gentle as the one you previously gave him, a little more chaste. It was sweet and tender, and left the first mate reeling as he made his way back to the ship, feeling looser than ever.

As soon as Izzy was dismissed for his shore leave about a month later, he waited for the chattering crew to diverse before making his way to his usual spot. He knew the route like the back of his hand.

He went about his usual routine, setting up at the bar and ordering a rum that he may or may not drink. Of course, he noticed as soon as he was through the door that you weren’t there in the main room. He could wait, though.

Izzy tensed as two forms came up on either side of him. “They’re in their room, it’s they’re day off,” the young man on his left told him.

Izzy paused, looking between the two of them. A young man and a young woman on his other side, both vaguely familiar. They worked with you, had probably noticed he was a regular of yours. Best not to ask many questions.

“Right,” Izzy nodded as he stood from the stool, making to leave the little establishment.

“Hold on!” the young woman stopped him. “You should go see them,” she advised.

Izzy squinted at her, “...they’re not working today.”

“Listen, man, I’ll give you one piece of advice,” the man placed a hand on his shoulder, only confusing Izzy further. “Ask ‘em out.”

Izzy pulled abruptly away from the other man’s touch. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He couldn’t help but feel like he was being mocked.

“Just do it,” the man rolled his eyes.

“You know their room,” the woman winked before dragging the man off with her, leaving Izzy thrown and confused.

As Val dragged Mark away, he complained about people being dense while she chastised him and told him to ease up on the whole thing a little.

Izzy shook his head, trying to be reasonable. They probably just meant that you might take the job anyway, he did tip well after all. He might as well give it a shot, could always blame your friends if you laughed in his face.

He trudged up the stairs and came to your door, reconsidering before convincing himself to just knock on the door. He barely had to wait before the door was pulled open.

“Izzy?” you were clearly surprised to see him but your face also lit up at the sight of him. Izzy just wasn’t sure what to make of that.

“Sorry, I know it’s your day off. Two of your friends, I think, sent me up,” Izzy felt the need to explain himself.

“That was probably Val and Mark,” you sighed, not all that surprised that they had to get themselves involved. “So, what’s up?”

“I, uh…I don’t know, I guess.” You still couldn’t help but be endeared by him.

“Well, like you said, I’m not working today,” you repeated, seeing the way Izzy’s expression dropped slightly as he nodded in understanding. “But I could go for something to eat, you could come with me if you want,” you suggested, feeling like taking that chance was the right thing to do.

“I don’t…”

“Yeah, sorry, stupid idea,” you shook your head, cutting him off before he could drop his rejection. You knew it was a long shot, asking a client and infamous first mate of the mighty Blackbeard out on a date was absolutely ridiculous. If anyone you worked with saying they were going to do the same thing, you would laugh in their face. A terrible idea.

Izzy at least picked up on your slight panic. “No, it’s not that. Just…you want me to go with you?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“I’d like some pleasant company,” you shrugged, “if you want to go with me, that is.”

For a moment, Izzy was certain he was misunderstanding you or something. But, no. You were asking him to go get some food with you, and that felt like…something. “Yeah, sure, let’s go,” he agreed.

That had you smiling properly again. “Great, I know somewhere good.”

You quickly grabbed your jacket and locked your door before heading out with him. As you left, passing through the main room downstairs, you didn’t see Val anywhere but Mark caught sight of you and shot you a wink as you passed by. You shot him a glare in return before slipping out of the door with Izzy.

Izzy found himself following you through the familiar port town, unsure where exactly you were leading him but allowing you to anyway. A part of him expected you to walk a little ahead of him, since you knew where you were going and he didn’t, but instead you stayed firmly by his side.

“Huh.” The soft noise made Izzy look at you, caught off guard by the way you were looking back at him. Eyes sparking.

“What?” he asked gruffly, insecure under your gaze.

“I’ve never actually seen you outside, like, in direct sunlight,” you mused.

“Well, sorry to disappoint,” Izzy cleared his throat, keeping his gaze straight ahead, unable to look at you.

You laughed a little, slapping his arm playfully. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Talking down to yourself,” you chastised softly. “You’re handsome, and you’re good to spend time with, you need to start seeing that.”

Izzy felt his heart clenching in his chest. You sounded so sincere, like you really meant it, and it was killing him. “You remember I’m not paying you right?”

You laughed again, though more in disbelief than with humour. “I’m a very good actor but you never paid me to act. Never lied to you, Izzy.”

Izzy sighed slightly, trying to put the pieces together, trying to figure out what you were trying to say. “You’re very good at your job.” He wasn’t exactly sure why he said it but he meant it, you always managed to make him feel…wanted.

Another soft laugh. “Thank you but I’m off duty, and would you look at that,” you lent in conspiratorially. “I still want to spend the day with you,” you smiled, nudging your arm against his.

“Why?” Izzy couldn’t help but question you, couldn’t just let himself accept something nice like this.

“Because I like you, I’ve told you that,” you rolled your eyes but were still smiling fondly. “Now, any dietary requirements?”

Izzy frowned as he looked at you properly, your question throwing him off. “What?”

“I’m taking you out for food,” you reminded him.

“Oh, right. Uh, no dairy.”

“Got it!”

Even though it was exactly what you said you were going to do, a part of Izzy was still a little surprised when he found himself sitting outside of a little eatery with you, eating and talking. It was…well, it was nice. He felt comfortable.

Izzy offered to pay for the food instead of paying for your time, but you had tutted and paid anyway.

“I would have paid,” Izzy muttered as the two of you started walking through town again.

“I know, which is why I paid,” you sighed, coming to a halt. Izzy frowned, stopping as well and turning to you. Once he was properly looking at you, you spoke again. “Listen very clearly Izzy. I am not working right now, I am not doing anything currently that is related to my job, I am just getting something to eat with somebody whose company I enjoy.”

“...oh.” Izzy really did just need it all spelled out for him, didn’t he? You supposed it was fair, considering what your arrangement had been up until now. “Okay.”

You smiled at his acceptance. “Come on,” you took hold of his hand and started guiding him through town again.

As you walked, Izzy stared down at your intertwined hands. His mind raced, trying to fully comprehend what was going on, while just letting you lead the way. Was what the two of you shared real? Had it become something real or were you just humouring him?

Despite spending most of the time worrying about, well, everything, Izzy found himself actually having a good time. Enjoying your company, finding himself relaxing. It had all been going so well, until the usual nuisance appeared out of nowhere.

“Izzy!” an excitable blond man approached with a bright smile, making you pause. It only stung a little when Izzy pulled his hand out of yours. “Is this your recruit?” he asked.

“Recruit?” you frowned at Izzy, confused about who this man was and what he was talking about.

Your confusion was almost overtaken by concern when you got a good look at his face. The poor guy looked like he was about to have an aneurysm.

“Oh, perhaps Izzy hasn’t mentioned it yet,” the man cleared his throat like he was preparing for a speech. “I’m Captain Stede Bonnet, the Gentleman Pirate, of the Revenge and we are looking to recruit new crew members. We’re a little on the short side and we have sent the crew out to find any new recruits with potential.”

Oh, so this is Stede Bonnet. It made sense with the descriptions and complaints Izzy had uttered from time to time.

“It’s a pleasure, Captain Bonnet,” you nodded politely before turning back to Izzy. “So, am I your recruit, Izzy?”

“I…” He was shaking.

“Well, do you have any skills that would be useful on a pirate ship?” Stede asked, covering for, what he perceived to be, Izzy's poor social skills.

You and Izzy looked at each other, trying to get a feel for what the other was thinking. His eye twitched, you’re just amused.

“I’m great with knots,” you declared proudly. Izzy had to cough to cover up a startled laugh.

“Wonderful!” Stede’s smile widened. “They seem like a wonderful pick, I’ll let you finish up here. I suppose I might see you both back at the ship later on,” he nodded his goodbyes before continuing his path into town.

“Good with knots?” Izzy raised an eyebrow at you once Stede was out of sight.

“I am! Maybe I’ll show you one day,” you winked, earning a sweet blush from him.

“Let’s just move before Bonnet decides to come back,” he grumbled but you only laughed as he tugged you away by the hand.

Once Izzy felt that there was enough distance between him and Stede Bonnet, he began to relax and slow his pace. That’s when you decided to speak again.

“So you’re looking for new crew?” you asked.

“Edward finally came to his senses, realised that Bonnet’s crew is too small to properly maintain the ship. Even if they were decent fighters, we’re too outnumbered to conduct worthwhile raids,” Izzy explained. “Bonnet’s brilliant idea was to send the crew out at port to pick up any interested parties.” Of course, he thought he and Edward should be in charge of recruiting, with Fang and Ivan offering assistance. You know, since they actually knew what they were looking for.

“So, do you have an eye on anyone for the job?”

“Haven’t really looked around yet. We docked just before I came by your place,” he shrugged. You smiled to yourself, thinking it was just a little sweet that the first thing he did was come to see you.

“I am really good with knots,” you told him.

“Nautical knots?”

“Yeah.” He raised an eyebrow at you doubtfully. “What? I’ve met a lot of sailors,” you huffed, making Izzy laugh.

You laughed along softly, liking that your job doesn’t freak him out. That he can laugh about it just like you can, that he doesn’t get uncomfortable about. Still respects you and still accepted your invitation to dinner.

“I mean, if you’re looking for a new career, you could easily bluff your way into the crew,” Izzy shrugged. To be fair, he didn’t think they would be that difficult to fool.

You looked at him, trying to figure out if he was being serious or not. “Really?”

“Bonnet seems to like you enough, Edward would probably see through you but give you a chance anyway if Bonnet likes you. The crew would like you and you’d probably be a better pirate than most of them.” You really couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Izzy,” you spoke a little firmer than usual, bringing him to a halt. “Are you asking me to join the crew?” you asked.

“It’s your choice-”

“No, Izzy, listen,” you cut him off, needing a direct answer to a specific question. “Are you, Izzy Hands, asking me to join your crew. To sail on the same ship as you. Are you asking me to sail with you, as an actual deckhand, where you will see me every day?”

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other. Izzy processing exactly what you were asking and exactly what him inviting you to join the crew would involve.

“...yeah,” Izzy answered before squaring his shoulders, looking a little more confident when he spoke again. “Yes. I’m asking you to join the crew, if that’s something you would be interested in.”

Well, that was fairly direct. Still, you needed to know one more thing. “I have one question,” he nodded for you to ask it. “Was this, today, a date?”

“A date?” he repeated dumbly.

“I didn’t come out with you or spend time with you for money. Was today a date?”

“You’re the one who asked me to get something eat.”

“Okay, then, would you have liked it to be a date? A proper date.”

He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. You felt yourself deflating. Even if he did want that, if he couldn’t say it, you couldn’t join the crew. It wouldn’t be fair to you and you wouldn’t do that to yourself. You were just about to give up when he spoke.

“...yes.” The answer was quiet, making you look at him for some sort of confirmation that you had heard him right. He was blushing, his face a deep red, and was averting his gaze. “Yes, I guess I would,” he nodded, still not looking at you properly. There was…something like embarrassment in his expression.

“Izzy?” you spoke softly, shifting a little closer to him.

He looked at you then, determined but nervous. “I know it’s your job, I know I was paying you and it was just that. I knew I needed what I was asking for you but I guess I didn’t know how much I needed it. I have seen whores before, for the same thing…they were never as good as you. Thought you were just better at your job but began to realise that…that I just happen to like you more,” he confessed.

“I like you too, Izzy,” you smiled softly. “It was just a job, it was for a long time, we know better than to get close to clients, to buy into whatever they’re presenting. But I guess I just couldn’t help it with you, I grew fond, grew attached.”

Your little admission seemed to give Izzy the spark of confidence he needed to officially make the offer. “It’s fucking insane, I know that, but do you want to join the crew of the Revenge?”

“Yeah…I think I’d like that,” you nodded, suggesting, “and maybe we can get to know each other properly?”

“I’d like that too,” Izzy smiled back at you.

“Izzy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Izzy swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded, not trusting his voice enough for a verbal response. Maybe those kisses you had given him had been genuine, done out of your own desire rather than obligation.

You stepped closer yet again, closing the distance between you both. Your hands cradled his face as you brought your lips to his in a gentle kiss.

You hadn’t kissed him goodbye that last time because he paid you or because you felt you had to provide an experience, you were off the clock. You had kissed him goodbye, all sweet and lingering, because you wanted too. Just like you were kissing him now. Just because you wanted to.

Izzy kissed you back, not held back by the worry that you didn’t actually want him. You did want him. You wanted him and were choosing him. You held him and kissed him because he meant something to you.

Maybe it was because of that that he kissed you like he may never get another chance. You had kissed him before but this was different, this felt like the true first, those boundaries crashing down around you both. Allowing each other to know how you really felt.

When you pulled away from the kiss, you were smiling, hands falling down to his shoulders. “I guess I’ll have to pack so how about one last visit to my room before we head to the ship?”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Izzy almost felt like he was dreaming, like this wasn’t actually happening, as you led him back to the brothel. When the two of you entered, Val was in the main room but Mark wasn’t this time. She just grinned when she saw you, following you both up to your room.

“Thought you weren’t working!” Val teased, following you both inside. Izzy felt his face flush while you just rolled your eyes.

“I’m not!” you huffed. “Uh…well, it’s kinda sudden but there’s something I need to tell you…”

Val listened intently as you told her about your new plans, about how you were going to become a pirate. She had smirked and looked at Izzy now and again, knowing you had no real interest in pirating. That wasn’t the reason you were stepping foot on that ship. Of course, she expressed her concerns but supported your decision.

As you packed your things, Val was chastising Izzy and making him promise not to let anything bad happen to you. Izzy made those promises sincerely while you just laughed at her protectiveness.

Once she was satisfied that he wouldn’t let you get gutted on a raid or by an angry captain, she insisted on fussing with his hair until you were done collecting what you would be taking with you. You were pretty sure she was testing him in some way only she understood.

Thankfully, it didn’t take you long to pack the things you would be taking with you.

“Alright, you,” you batted Val away from a tense and flustered Izzy, giving him some space. “We’re leaving later, I want to say goodbye to everyone first.”

“You better and you better send letters,” Val scolded.

“Val!”

“I’m going!”

She barely got the words out before you had closed the door on her.

Izzy stood back with your bags as you said your goodbyes. Then men and women you worked with pulled you into embraces, pressed kisses to your face and the top of your head as they wished you luck and told you to write.

The Madam had embraced you, kissing both of your cheeks and your forehead before releasing you. She had always been a good and fair Madam, had always been good to you and you would miss her. You would miss all of them.

Said Madam had also snuck off to threaten Izzy with torture and death if he did wrong by you, he had taken it and promised everything he could. She must have believed him because she left his side without maiming him. Leaving him to watch you say your farewells.

You went back for a few more hugs before returning to Izzy’s side, telling him you were ready to leave. He insisted on carrying your bags for you. You had rolled your eyes fondly and let him carry them as he led you to the Revenge.

When you arrived and boarded using the gangplank, the crew was already gathered on the deck. Stede was standing beside Edward, looking rather disappointed.

“Iz!” Edward grinned when he saw the first mate, not faltering at the unfamiliar face beside him.

“Ah, at least somebody found a new recruit,” Stede huffed. The rest of the crew murmured apologies, having apparently failed their tasks.

“Unsurprisingly, I’m the only one who did the fucking job,” Izzy grumbled.

“Oh come on!” Lucius scoffed. “They’re a pirate but I’m not?” he asked knowingly. You just winked at him, making him shake his head.

“Lucius, please, be welcoming to our new crewmember,” Stede scolded, earning a dramatic sigh from Lucius.

“Welcome aboard! Let me give you the tour,” Stede was dragging you off before you or Izzy could even protest.

Thankfully, the crew didn’t have much to say to Izzy and started to busy themselves with idle chatter. Edward, on the other hand, sidled up to Izzy with a small smirk.

“Really, Iz?”

“Shut the fuck up, Edward.”

“I think it’ll be good for you,” Ed threw an arm around Izzy’s shoulders, giving him a friendly shake. Izzy muttered a string of curses, beginning to wish the sea would open up and swallow him whole.

At least the teasing felt worth it when you emerged from below deck, conversing with Stede. Whatever you were talking about clearly had Stede’s full attention, his smile growing as he animatedly contributed. Your smile was bright and friendly, but your expression noticeably softened when you looked over at Izzy. Yeah, it was worth it. He had made the right decision.

#israel hands x reader #izzy hands x reader #ofmd izzy #our flag means death izzy #ofmd x reader

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gotham-ruaidh · 3 years ago

Text

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass) || Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round) || Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger) || Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) ||| Also posted at AO3

—

Chapter 6B: Without You

Without you in my life // I'd slowly wilt and die But with you by my side // You're the reason I'm alive...

Soundtrack: “Without You,” Mötley Crüe, 1989 [click here to listen]

Six A.M. – Claire quietly shut her door and softly padded down the hallway toward the dining room.

The Ridge’s sleeping quarters reminded her of her college dorm – a long hallway of single rooms, with a shared bathroom at the end of the hall. Women were up here on the second floor – men were in a separate wing on the other side of the dining room, which with the therapy rooms and administrative offices sat at the middle of the large building.

As she entered the dining room, she smiled a hello at Glenna, a kind middle-aged woman who organized breakfast, among dozens of other jobs. Glenna had had a terrible addiction to pills – “just like you, dear, and I overcame it, so you can too” – and had found a home at The Ridge keeping the whole operation running.

“You’re up early,” Glenna remarked as Claire poured herself a cup of coffee.

Claire stirred in cream and sugar. “I haven’t been able to sleep.”

Glenna set down a tray of piping hot cinnamon buns. “It will be a while before you do. Remember, your body is still in shock. It will take longer than you want, to find a new rhythm. Be patient.”

“I will. Thanks, Glenna.”

Glenna gestured with her head toward the porch. “He’s out there.”

Claire frowned. “Who?”

Glenna smiled. “Who do you think? It’s none of my business – but you’re well-suited.”

Claire piled two cinnamon buns on a plate, her heart beating a bit faster. “There’s nothing going on between us. Besides, isn’t it against the rules?”

Glenna set one hand on her hip. “Not yet there isn’t. And since when did the rules ever stop either of you?”

Claire smiled and shook her head, already crossing the empty dining room.

As soon as she popped her head outside, she saw him – alone in the corner of the porch.

As she approached, she saw he had an acoustic guitar on his lap, strumming quietly, scribbling in a notebook.

“Good morning.”

He looked up at her, suddenly beaming. “Early to bed, early to rise, hmm?”

She held out the plate, and he took a bun. “I figured, might as well get up.” She sat down next to him, set down the plate, and took a long sip of coffee. “Do you always get up this early?”

Chewing, he turned back his guitar, plucking quietly at the strings. “Yeah. Being here is the first regular sleep schedule I’ve had in years. This may sound terrible – but I realize now that I’d forgotten how to fall asleep.”

She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug. “What do you mean?”

He tapped the side of the guitar. “I was drinking two bottles of Jack a day, Claire. I’d have it with breakfast, throughout the morning, before a gig, after a gig. I’d just pass out at some early hour, with some girl who I’d picked up at the gig or at a strip club after the gig, and then wake up sometime the next day. And when I wasn’t touring – I’d still drink a lot. Hang out with my friends, or with the band – go out, hit the clubs, maybe do a few bumps of coke. But it would always end the same way, passed out on a floor or a couch or, on better nights, my bed.”

She watched a blue jay flit from tree to tree, down below in the forest.

“I had so many chances over the years to wake up. It’s so clear to me now. There was one day when we were in the studio, laying down a new track – and I needed to take a break, so I’d gone to a smaller practice studio next door. With a speedball in my pocket. So I helped myself to it, and I don’t remember what happened next, but my producer tells me that a few minutes later I’d buzzed him on the intercom, and asked him for a gun so that I could shoot the men in top hats who were coming out of the speakers.”

Claire swirled her half-empty coffee cup. “I’d work three days on, three days off. It’s a punishing schedule – but I knew that going in. After a long day with several surgeries, I’d crash. Sometimes I’d have to be on call, so I’d sleep in this little room we had upstairs in the staff area. It had two sets of bunk beds and a shower – all a body needs. But I’d be so wired from the adrenaline – from needing to focus so much on the patients – that I couldn’t sleep, you know?”

He nodded. “I know. I know exactly what you mean.”

“The pills helped me sleep. That’s what I told myself at first. And I didn’t feel terrible when I woke up – especially if someone was banging on the door, giving me a five minute warning to get back downstairs. I could get all of the sleep with all of the alertness on the other end. But then…well.” She sighed. “Then it got to the point where I told myself I couldn’t sleep at all if I didn’t have the pills – even on my days off. Because I had to sleep, to make up for the sleep I’d lost when I was on call. And then I was taking them during the day, to calm down.”

He turned a new page in his notebook, pulled out a pen from behind his ear, and scribbled something.

“I guess you’re working on something new?”

He nodded. “Sometimes the music comes first. Sometimes it’s the lyrics that come first. But if I don’t write it down, I won’t remember it the next day.” He frowned. “Come to think of it – it must be because my memory was so shot from the booze, that I wasn’t even capable of remembering.”

He cleared his throat, and set down the guitar, and picked up a cup of coffee. “What do you think? You’re a doctor, after all.”

She smirked. “I’m a surgeon, not a neurologist. But it sounds plausible. Can you remember things better now, that you’re sober?”

He nodded. “It’s crazy. I just feel so much…clearer. In control. It’s good to be in control.” He took another bite of cinnamon bun. “Are you feeling that?”

She sighed. “I’m feeling. I didn’t want to feel anything for the longest time. But now I’m feeling…just feeling.”

Footsteps on the deck behind them – Rupert, shuffling in his bathrobe, blearily waving hello, clutching a gigantic cup of coffee.

A beat.

How to find common ground outside of their addictions?

“Can you tell me more about that song you’re writing?”

He set down his coffee and picked up the notebook, flipping back to the previous page. Set it on the table between them. Picked up his guitar. Looked down at his notes. Started to sing – his voice quiet, clear, strong.

Without you, there's no change My nights and days are grey If I reached out and touched the rain It just wouldn't feel the same

Without you, I'd be lost I'd slip down from the top I'd slide down so low Girl you never, never know...

Without you, without you A sailor lost at sea Without you, woman, the world comes down on me

“I don’t know where to go from there,” he said, continuing to play slow notes on his guitar. “Need more verses, of course. Maybe a space for a guitar solo. I don’t know.” He looked up at her. “What do you think?”

Rupert clapped and hooted from across the porch. Giving Claire enough time to find her voice.

“I think you’ve got a keeper there,” she said softly.

He held her gaze. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Play Freebird!” Rupert shouted.

They shared a smile.

Claire’s world tilted just a little.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be

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jackrrabbit · 5 years ago

Text

it will come back [pt. 2] /// Yandere Shigaraki x f!Reader

Summary: You have a bad habit of picking up strays, and the half-dead villain you find bleeding out in a dumpster is no exception. [Part 1] [Part 3]

A/N: Title from the Hozier song—“don’t let it in with no intention to keep it / jesus christ, don’t be kind to it / oh honey don’t feed it / it will come back.”

Tags/warnings: yandere, violence (not directed toward reader), crying, Shiggy REALLY likes you, reader needs a friend and a good night’s sleep, non-explicit sexual content. [In later parts: 18+, sex, other stuff]

He—Tomura—keeps visiting.

At first you think it’s because of the free medical care, and you wish you had the spine to tell him to suck it up and go see a professional. After a couple weeks turn into a couple months and his wounds fade into ragged purple scars, though, you start to think differently.

Within a short time Tomura has figured out your work schedule, and he does a decent job of not showing up after your long shifts. The unavoidable consequence of this is that he ends up monopolizing your precious days off, but you come to the realization about a month and a half in that you don’t actually mind. You like it. It’s like spending time with a friend.

Mostly you guys talk. It doesn’t seem like Tomura really has anyone to talk to the way the two of you do, but that’s probably just you projecting. It’s usually shallow stuff—TV shows you like, video games he plays, funny stories from patients you treated. Sometimes when you’re cooking for yourself, you make extra for him. (It happens a lot, actually, and at one point you bring up how much his appetite is costing you and the next time you see him he brings a bag of rice and makes you a porridge that crunches between your teeth when you try to eat it. You can’t finish yours, but he eats an entire bowl and insists that you’re being picky.)

Sometimes he sleeps over on the couch, but he’s always gone when you wake up.

The two of you skirt around the heavier stuff, and you know it’s intentional on his part. You have to resist the urge to ask him about being a villain—he’s all but confirmed it for you, and it’s human nature to be curious, isn’t it? In the same way you can’t help looking at a car crash, you want to poke and prod and find out what it is, exactly, that Tomura does for a living. That part of his life is suspiciously absent from your discussions—if you didn’t know better, you’d think he spends all of his time sleeping and playing games and breaking into your place.

On the other hand, you don’t want to know. Plausible deniability. You can accept criminality in the abstract, but you’ve treated too many victims of the bullshit hero–villain battle to be comfortable really knowing why Tomura avoids public places.

So you don’t ask about it, and Tomura doesn’t tell, and you don’t look up his name. And it’s easy. It’s nice. You’d forgotten what it’s like to come back to a home that isn’t empty.

And then one day when you get off a few hours early from your shift, you stop by a convenience store to pick up some snacks for yourself (hey, you’ve been working hard, you’re entitled to binge a little on foods that you’re afraid to look at the fat content for), and you think, Hm, I wonder if Tomura wants some.

[You: 7:49 PM] > Are you coming over today? [T: 7:49 PM] > Yeah why [You: 7:51 PM] > Getting snacks > Want some? [T: 7:51 PM] > No

[T: 8:12 PM] > When r u coming back to ur place

[T: 8:58 PM] > Hey where are you

[T: 9:39 PM] > (Y/N)?

There’s a man with a gun in the convenience store.

It takes you a second to process at first. You’re standing in the snack food aisle seeking out Oreos and debating the merits of Double Stuf vs. Mega when you catch the mumbled demand and the metallic clicking noise you’ve only ever heard in movies before. It’s a gun—you know that, but your mind dismisses it because it’s ridiculous. Guns are rare in hero society. People don’t go around robbing bodegas at gunpoint anymore.

(You should know better. You work in a goddamn ER. But you compartmentalize, and the crimes you see written across your patients’ bodies stay out of the realm of your personal life because you need them to.)

It’s only when you see the muzzle of a hunting rifle pushed up to the cashier’s sweaty neck that you really understand what’s happening.

You drop to the ground immediately, looking toward the exit but it’s shut and there’s some kind of metal…thing holding the door closed. The cashier mumbles a denial and you can hear him fumble around with the cash drawer for what feels like ages.

It’s real. This is real. You’re in the middle of a robbery. Where are the heroes? Why isn’t anyone doing anything?

God, you’re a hypocrite, cowering behind the aisle divider and waiting for someone to step up while the robber’s demands get increasingly louder and more frantic. He wants money, and the cashier (who, you remember, is a man in his sixties with hands that shake with Parkinson’s when he holds out your receipt) isn’t being fast enough.

“That’s it? There’s no more? Are you fucking kidding me, there’s gotta be a safe or something—“

“No! No, p-please, I’m sorry, this is all I have!”

You cringe, crushing your eyes closed as if that will make it go away. You’re surprised you can hear at all over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

“Don’t fuck with me old man, I know there’s more! Show me the safe or I’ll blow your goddamn brains out!”

No! You have to do something. You can’t just sit here. You’ve heard plenty of death threats from your patients (not to mention that one from Tomura), and you know the difference between a bluff and a serious warning. Maybe you can catch the robber off guard, try to pull the gun away? You stand up quickly, hoping against hope that you won’t regret this, but in a split second you see that the cashier has the same idea and he’s trying to pull the rifle out of the robber’s hand and—

BANG.

Something warm and wet splatters across your face.

///

Tomura is angry when you get back to the apartment. As soon as he hears your key in the lock he rises from your couch so he can grab your collar with three fingers, jerking your head up to force you to look at him. “Where have you been? Do you know how long I’ve been waiting—“

But he cuts short in the middle of his sentence. Maybe because he sees the look on your face. Or maybe he just notices the traces of blood you haven’t been able to wipe off.

“What happened,” Tomura says. It’s not a question. He adjusts his grip slightly so it’s not quite as punishing, but you hold still anyway.

You have to force your mouth open in order to speak, but when your voice comes out it’s more steady than you thought it would be. “It’s not my blood. There was a robbery at the store. The cashier got shot.”

“Oh.” He releases you and frowns. “That’s it?”

“Fuck you.” You push past him into the kitchen to get yourself a drink with trembling hands. Pantry’s out of shōchū, whiskey will just make you sicker—ahh, there it is. Baijiu. The glug glug glug of the liquor into the glass does nothing to put your nerves at ease, but you pour yourself a double anyway.

“Wait—wait.” Tomura’s hands twitch and rub over his arms like he’s trying to stop himself from grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you. “Calm down. Why are you so upset? Don’t you see this stuff every day?”

You do. You’re an ER nurse. There’s no injury you haven’t seen. But it’s not about the blood. “I...I knew him. The cashier. He was nice. He had a grandkid on the way. I—“ You bite your lip and down the baijiu in one gulp. It burns.

Tomura clearly doesn’t know how to comfort you; probably doesn’t even really know why you need to be comforted. What does it mean that death is so meaningless to him? you wonder. But you need someone to listen to you, clueless or not, and Tomura will have to do.

The baijiu is still bitter and hot down your throat when you speak again. “You know something? Know what they asked me when the heroes finally showed up and pulled us out of there, me and the corpse?”

“…What?” Tomura asks warily.

“They stuck a camera in my face and asked me if there was anything I wanted to say to the hero who saved me. Any words of gratitude I wanted to share,” you spit. Now it’s your turn to feel your hands making fists at your sides. Your fingernails scratch into your palms like the pain can be an outlet for the sudden overwhelming fury spilling over you. “They didn’t save him. They were too late.”

Tomura’s eyes widen, and through your curtain of anger you can tell he’s looking at you in a way he’s never looked at you before. It’s unlike him to even look directly at you, and when he does it’s usually in disinterest or half-sincere irritation. This, though…this is different. He’s watching you like a believer watches a prophet. You can tell—or at least some deep, ugly part of you that you hope is wrong can tell—that he’s trying not to smile.

“I hate this,” you say, and the first tear drips out of your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s awful. You don’t want to cry in front of Tomura. You don’t want to show him how weak you are. But before you can wipe it away, Tomura’s hand comes up and does it for you, smearing the tear over your cheek in a gesture that—for him—is oddly tender.

Then he hugs you.

It’s stiff and awkward, like he’s forgotten how to do it, but the intention is clear. His arms fold around your back, pulling you into his chest while his chin makes its way to rest on your shoulder. He’s leaning into you so deeply that your spine is arched back, and you stagger away from him only for him to step closer again to make up the distance.

“It’s not fair, hm,” he murmurs into your hair. His tone is the closest thing to sympathy you’ve ever heard from him, but there’s an undercurrent of excitement you can’t ignore. “They’re always too late, aren’t they? The heroes… And everyone will watch that video of you thanking the heroes, and they’ll think they’re safe too. They’ll keep going about their lives and think that nothing bad can happen to them because a hero will always be around to save them…but you and I know that’s a lie.”

It takes you a second to recognize the emotion that’s raising goosebumps over your arms while Tomura rubs circles into your back, but when it clicks you shiver because it’s fear. You’ve never really been afraid of Tomura before, even when you should’ve been. Does he realize he’s backing you up with how forcefully he’s pushing himself into you? The backs of your knees hit the arm of your couch and you topple onto it with Tomura following.

He holds himself above you on his hands, legs tangled with yours. His eyes are wild and he’s not even trying to suppress his grin now. You’re trapped lying on your back under him—pinned like a butterfly under glass.

“Get off of me,” you say as calmly as you can.

“It’s all a lie, all of it…” A hand comes up and strokes your cheek, rubbing with two fingers at a stray fleck of blood on your neck. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, but I’m so glad you understand…”

“Let me up now, Tomura.”

He holds still for a long moment—waiting, thinking, considering—and then sits up, still straddling you but loosely enough that you can scramble back away from him on the couch. Your heart is racing, but you try to slow your breaths so he doesn’t pick up on how scared you are.

“Don’t freak out. You’re no fun,” Tomura says, and you exhale a sigh of relief at how normal he sounds. You never thought you’d be so happy about him looking at you like you’re nothing.

“I think you should go,” you say carefully.

He rocks back on his heels and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you mad? I thought I could stay here tonight, like usual. Since I waited for so long.”

“I’m not mad. I just…want to be alone.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone tonight. Not after what you’ve been through.”

Oh, now you care. “Fine. Okay? Fine. You can sleep on the couch.” You’re too tired to argue any more, and you’ve never really been good at convincing Tomura to do anything he doesn’t want to. It’s a miracle he listened to you when you told him to get off you. Considering how often he breaks into your apartment, it’s not like you could keep him out anyway.

So he stays the night. He doesn’t bother you when you take a shower and go to bed, he just lies on the couch in his street clothes. When you wake up in the morning he’s disappeared like he always does, and for the first time since you met him you’re truly relieved that he’s gone.

///

You always thought it would take some level of courage you don’t possess to actually bite the bullet and look Tomura up. To do so would mean saying goodbye to whatever strange relationship the two of you have built over the months, and you’re just not brave enough to risk it.

Turns out it’s not courage that makes you type his name into the search bar. It’s cowardice. You’re lying in bed under the covers when you do it, and the blue-white screen of your laptop is the only light in the room. Your comforter is pulled up almost over your head like it’s a wall that can block out reality.

“tomura”, you enter into the search bar, but you don’t hit return. Instead, you look at the search suggestions.

> tomura shigaraki > tomura shigaraki league of villains > tomura shigaraki decay

Something about it sounds familiar. But you’re not ready. Still, after everything, you’d rather keep your eyes closed. You backspace and snap your laptop shut, and when you do your room is so dark that you think the emptiness might swallow you up.

///

[T: 5:52 PM] > Are u going to be at home tn

[T: 6:14 PM] > Hey check ur phone

[T: 6:42 PM] > Stop ignoring me > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N) > (Y/N)

[T: 6:46 PM] 3 MISSED CALLS [You: 6:50 PM] > I’m at work [T: 6:50 PM] > Don’t lie > you finished an hour ago

[T: 7:13 PM] 1 MISSED CALL [T: 7:14 PM] > You said you werent mad [You: 7:15 PM] > I’m not [T: 7:15 PM] > Then stop being a brat > im coming over > ill bring takeout

You’re nervous about seeing him, but in the two weeks since he pushed you down on the couch you’ve found yourself…missing him. Like it or not, he’s made himself a fixture in your life. So when you get home you’re brimming with anticipation, wondering who you’ll get when you open the door—the normal Tomura you’ve come to like over the past few months, or the one from that night. The villain.

But it’s just him. Good old Tomura, laden with plastic bags and containers of greasy fast food for the two of you to gorge yourselves on. You tease him for being cheap and he argues that you’re just a snob and everything seems so normal that you can almost forget the look in his red eyes when he told you that you understood.

Almost.

///

You probably have no idea how good you look when you’re crying.

Of the couple thousand views on the news channel video of your “rescue” from the convenience store robber, at least a tenth are from Tomura. Eventually he just downloads the video onto his computer so he doesn’t have to read the inane comments that the other viewers leave on the webpage. It seems like everyone but him thinks you should feel lucky that you were saved by a hero before the robber could get to you, too.

As always, the public are a bunch of shit-soaked morons. Reading the comments makes him angry, so angry he’s tempted to look into a few of these brainless sheep and see how lucky they feel when they’ve caught the attention of a violent criminal. But that wouldn’t be productive, so he saves the video externally and leaves the news website alone. It’s for the best. Besides, seeing the “views” counter on the website tick up and up by the dozen every time he refreshes is just another reminder that other people are watching this; other people are seeing how delicate and vulnerable and pretty you are with tears spilling out of your eyes and the cashier’s blood sprayed over your clothing.

Thousands of useless fucking NPCs are looking at you just like Tomura is. They’re probably thinking about how sweet you look, just like he is. And they’re probably imagining all the ways they can take advantage of your fragile emotional state, just like him.

You’re too trusting for your own good. Tomura used to think it was a virtue, and it is, but only when it comes to him. Whenever he thinks about how your face is slapped over a dozen different news websites for the whole world to see, he has to dig his fingernails into his neck to keep calm. It’s better when he can just watch the video and pretend he’s the only one seeing it.

And it’s not like not watching the video is an option. Tomura can’t resist your crying face. There’s a point around the three minute mark where your voice breaks in the middle of your statement, and sometimes Tomura skips there in the video just so he can hear that pathetic little sob and replay it over and over and over. Maybe it’s sappy, but Tomura really does feel his heart skip a beat at the way your eyes and nose are rubbed red from your misery.

How fucked up is it that he gets off watching you cry?

Would you be angry if you knew? You probably would, but you put up with so much from him already. Maybe you’d be okay with it if he told you he really and truly tried to hold out. The first dozen times Tomura watched the video, he refused to touch himself no matter how tight his pants got while you choked out your stilted answers to the reporters’ questions, but at this point he barely has to click “play” on the video before he gets hard and takes matters into his own hands.

At the end of the day, it’s your fault. Everything about you is so erotic, from your shaky voice to your pouty, bitten-red lips. Isn’t it completely normal to be aroused while looking at the person you like? And Tomura likes you, he really likes you. He doesn’t have any pictures of you, and with the high definition of the news channel’s video he can see every perfect contour of your cheekbones, every pore in your skin, every glistening wet eyelash.

It’s not that Tomura doesn’t feel sympathy for how upset you are in the video. He does! Not even just sympathy, even—he’s empathetic. He knows exactly how it feels to be let down by the heroes. How dare they tell you you need to be grateful while you’re still trying to wipe brain matter off your shirt? Always too little, too late. It’s not fair.

But if he’s being honest? As miserable as you are, Tomura is happy that you were in the store when that robber came in and that you had to watch a man you knew get his brains blown out in front of you. You need a wake-up call to lose faith in hero society. If you have to suffer some emotional trauma in the process, that seems like a fair price to pay.

And the fact that Tomura gets to jerk off to it? It’s almost like destiny.

➠ [Part 3]

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thegeminisage · 4 years ago

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birthday meta for the birthday boy <3

[this version of the meta is behind a cut. if you’d prefer the no-cut version, it’s here.]

a fun little fanon from Ye Olde Days of spn (when seasons 1-5 were airing) was that sam always had the absolute worst birthdays. a big part of this is because sam’s birthday is in may. supernatural tends to align itself with “real time,” meaning that they like to use either the date the episode was filmed or the date it aired as the in-universe date, even when two canon dates conflict each other. (they’re so intent on doing this that they pretended the gap years between s5 & s6 and s7 & s8 right out of existence - season openers also usually tend to pick up right after season finales in-universe but still somehow be set several months later.) that means sam’s birthday tends to line up with the airdates on either season finales or episodes right before the finales, which means that every time sam gets a year old, shit hits the fan.

here’s a list of things that did happen or could have happened on some of sam's birthdays:

0-22: we don’t have much in the way as far as concrete dates go for preseries stuff, but it’s perfectly possible sam walked out all that bullshit the day he turned 18, even if i prefer to think he left at age 19 as that aligns rather tragically with some adam-related canon.

23: we don’t have any dates for the end of s1/opening of s2 either, but it’s likely that sam’s birthday took place between 1.20 (dead man’s blood) and 2.01 (in my time of dying). he could have been doing anything from hunting vampires to saving one of YED’s special children to almost shooting his possessed father to getting hit by a semi to using a ouija board to talk to his not-quite-dead brother.

24: here’s where the real fun starts >:) sam died in cold oak in 2.21 (all breaks loose pt 1) and in the episode he says he’s 23. but according to the lore (extra-canonical material), dean made the deal to bring him back on his 24th birthday...

25: ...which means that on his 25th birthday, he was forced to watch dean get dragged to hell...

25b: ...except that sam had TWO 25th birthdays, because mystery spot took place in february, and sam lived in an alternate timeline where dean stayed dead for 6 months, putting him well past may 2nd. which meant that the first time he turned 25, he was actually getting tortured by gabriel. while his brother was getting tortured (or torturing someone else) in hell.

26: 4.20 (the rapture) took place in very late april/very early may (the wiki says may 3, but that’s just a guess), and 4.21 (when the levee breaks) picks up immediately where it left off. so it’s not only plausible but EXTREMELY LIKELY that sam was locked up in the panic room suffering withdrawals when he turned 26, dude

26b: ...except that in 11.17 (safe house), bobby and rufus’s half of the episode presumably takes place at the same time during season 4, and he mentions sam and dean are in reno?? so you know they could have been doing that instead.

27: we have no hard and fast dates for the end of season 5, but it’s my personal headcanon that sam’s birthday took place during 5.22 (swan song), and he beat the devil and leapt into hell on the day he turned 27 - because at this point, why not. however, his birthday could also have taken place during either 5.20 (the devil you know) or 5.21 (two minutes to midnight), meaning he was reconfronting his old college pal who turned out to be a demon brady, or helping bobby and a human cas destroy the factory with the croatoan virus.

28: there’s a gap year between s5 and s6, so sam’s 28th birthday took place while he was soulless, hunting with the campbell family...

28b: ...except spn likes to say “a year passed” without adding one to the calendar, so sam ALSO had a 28th birthday during the airing of s6. there’s some conflicting information about s6′s timeline, so this could have happened anywhere from 6.18 (frontierland) to 6.21 (let it bleed). sam could have been doing anything from time traveling to fighting eve to grappling with cas going dark side to rescuing lisa and ben.

29: sam’s 29th birthday almost definitely took place during 7.20 (the girl with the dungeons and dragons tattoo), during which he met charlie. in case you’ve forgotten, that was actually a great day for him - in a moment of true little brother antics and justifiable homophobia, he got to laugh at dean gay flirting with the security guard.

30: there was another gap year between s7 and s8, which means that sam spent the big three-oh with amelia richardson while dean and cas were in purgatory. he got to have a picnic!

30b: ...but since spn ignores gap years, sam ALSO had a 30th birthday during s8 (a big season for him). there isn’t an exact date for the episodes leading up to the finale, which takes place in late may, after sam’s birthday, so his birthday could have taken place in either 8.21 (the great escapist), where he nearly died of his trial-induced fever and confessed to dean that he always felt unclean, or during 8.22 (clip show), where he met sarah blake again after nearly a decade, only to have her die right in front of him.

31: the s9 timeline is pretty vague, but the best guess for this one is 9.18 (meta fiction), in which sam finally gets to confront gadreel, the angel who possessed him and killed kevin with his hands

32: the s10 timeline is also short on dates, so sam’s birthday could have taken place anywhere between 10.16 (paint it black) and 10.21 (dark dynasty). a few possible things sam could have been doing: dealing with a hunt involving soulless people, helping cas and bobby break metatron out of heaven’s prison, catching up with charlie and giving rowena the book of the damned, battling the cursed werther house (don’t click that unless you’ve seen the episode, the twist is TOO good), reuniting claire with her mom, or building charlie’s pyre.

33: the last quarter or so of s11 happens really quickly sequentially, every episode picking up soon after the last one left off, which means that sam’s birthday either took place at the very end of the season or the beginning of s12. it’s most likely he turned 33 either the day dean saved the sun and sam himself got shot and kidnapped by toni bevell, or a few days later when he was being held captive and tortured in her basement.

34: unfortunately, sam’s 34th birthday almost definitely took place during 12.21 (there’s something about mary). i was really hoping it’d be 12.22 so he could be kicking the bmol’s asses, learning lucifer was back, and hugging mary, but no...instead he was mostly likely learning that ketch had had eileen killed.

35: because of some weird canon, the timeline for season 13 is actually batshit insane and makes no sense whatsoever, which means sam’s birthday is really early this season - either during 13.17 (the thing) where he rescues his brother from a frisky tentacle monster or 13.18 (bring ‘em back alive) where he hangs out with gabriel and cas in the bunker. since that’s garbage, you’d be forgiven for ignoring canon and pretending sam’s birthday fell on one of the following episodes - 13.19 (funeralia) is very touching, as he and rowena clash and then make up with each other; 13.21 (beat the devil) has sam capturing lucifer, then dying and getting revived and captured by him; 13.22 has sam getting a little revenge by leaving lucifer for dead; 13.23, of course, has lucifer finally dying for good.

36: there’s no dates whatsoever on the back half of s14, so theoretically sam’s birthday could take place in any episode after 14.13 (lebanon). the likeliest and COOLEST candidate is for sam to turn 36 during 14.20, in which he shoots god himself point blank. other admittedly inferior scenarios include his stint as justin the 50s househusband, mary’s death, or putting jack in the ma’lak box.

37: we saw this birthday happen onscreen during 15.14 (last holiday) at a party thrown by mrs. butters. unfortunately, not too long after that, she wound up torturing him by pulling out his fingernails.

38: that’s this year! because the timeline of s15 is also so weird and vague, partially fucked up by covid changing the shooting/airing times, and because sam’s birthday is SO early in s15, it’s possible that he has another one this season, right at the end, or maybe post-canon, which means............................................

...................................................that he’s spending it with dean and jack and the newly revived eileen and cas, in the bunker or somewhere else he feels safe and loved :)

happy birthday, sam winchester <3 after all the unhappy ones...u deserve it

[spn masterpost]

#sam winchester #supernatural #liz's meta #liz's spn stuff #long post #never in my life have i had to fight so hard to post a meta #tumblr tried to delete this TWO TIMES

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nitewrighter · 3 years ago

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Engineer and her Soldier trope for the Touch prompts. Either Sojourn/Mina for Hand Holding (3,8,45,19,37). Like a budding relationship during routine maintenance for her prosthetics. Or Symmpharah for Kiss (9,48,4,3,6). Like their first time of intimacy taking place behind closed doors. (Also didn't get to answer this for last ask game, but Scandalous by Prince is a good song for Sym/Pharah

Ahh you know I love Symmarah but I'd never considered Sojourn/Mina! That could be some fun dialogue!!

3. cold hands in warm hands

8. squeezing hand for comfort and encouragement

----

It was late morning in Overwatch's cybernetic research lab.

"You know I'm extremely busy right?" Mina walked over with her multitool kit before pulling out her chair across from Sojourn and sitting down.

"I know you need to see human faces at least once a week," said Sojourn, leaning her chin in her other hand, her prosthetic arm extended on the table..

"Mm... seems excessive," Mina said crisply as she pulled several small pliers, and screwdrivers from the kit. Sojourn snorted.

"You could've shoved one of your labtechs with me," said Sojourn, smiling.

"And then you'd be back three days later saying they didn't do it right and we'd spend at least an hour doing calibrations."

"Is that so bad?" There was a warmth to Sojourn's voice, not a dismissal of Mina's time or effort, but a little quip of 'I like seeing you and I know you like seeing me, even if the only way to drag you away from your tinkering is more tinkering.'

Mina pressed her lips together before gingerly running her hands down the sides of Sojourn's forearm, pressing two asymmetrical catches, opening a panel in Sojourn's arm with a short hissing whirr and click. She huffed a little, "Well... I will say it's nice to work on something I know will work."

"Hitting a rough patch with the baby?"

"She's not a--"

"You're calling it a 'She' again."

Mina furrowed her brows. "To answer your question," she said a bit pointedly, as she worked, "I would say I'm still adjusting to the personnel shifts."

"Is this about the new security we gave you?"

"You mean the ex-con suspended agent who took one look at my monitor and said, quote 'What's with the matrix shit?'"

"Come on, he's not that bad--" Sojourn laughed a little.

"No... he's not.." Mina admitted, "I guess I'm just bitter that I feel like we're being put in the same basket.

"Mina, we've been over this--it's just a temporary assignment to keep Cole from sulking around the base and keep Reyes from sending him on any unsanctioned 'vacations,'" said Sojourn.

"And why is that my problem?!" said Mina, "If Jack actually put his foot down with Reyes and they didn't play this 'plausible deniability' tango, I'd be--" she caught herself and huffed, "When we ended the Omnic Crisis... I thought it was a new chance not just for me, but for AI. I thought everyone understood that we needed to know more about artificial intelligence if we were to prevent something like the Crisis from happening again!" she sighed, "But the further along I get in this project, the more I'm Doctor Frankenstein. Getting shoved to higher security labs. Everything classified. Everything quarantined. I... I keep getting this terrible feeling that once this project's finished she--I mean it's... going to be shoved somewhere where it can never see the light of day. But I can do good with this. I know I can do good with this!"

Sojourn glanced off. Her mouth opened for a few moments and she moved to say something comforting.

"I know..." Mina said with an eye roll, continuing to methodically work through the circuitry on Sojourn's arm, "With all the fear still going around about omnics..."

"Jack's just not sure saying that Overwatch is working on a top-secret hyper-intelligent experimental AI when the Crisis is still fresh in everyone's minds is the best PR move--especially with the Blackwatch mess with O'Deorain," Sojourn finished the thought, "If you want me to transfer Cassidy, though, I can take care of that--"

"No--" Mina tucked a stray bit of hair back, now soldering in the new artificial carpal tendons, "He's... actually helpful--I mean granted, not in any programming capacity but... the AI is remarkably receptive to him," she chuckled, "I guess she's excited to have someone to talk to other than me."

"There's that 'She' again," said Sojourn, listening to the quiet fizz of the soldering iron. With the nerve responses in her arm turned off for maintenance, she couldn't feel the heat of the solder, but to be honest, one of the reasons she came to Liao for adjustment on her prosthetics was the fact that, despite using engineering tools to maintain them, Liao always made Sojourn's prosthetics feel like her body, not just a piece of equipment that just happened to also function as an arm or a leg.

"She feels like a 'she,'" Liao smiled, now cleaning out any metal filaments that flecked the interior of the prosthetic during the maintenance, "Well with the proper security clearances, I could bring you by to meet her, sometime."

"I'd like that," said Sojourn, "Plus, then I can reassure Jack you're not working on any Ultra-killer-deathbo-GYAH!" Sojourn suddenly flinched hard, one eye squinting shut and the other watering in pain at a sensation that could only be described as '10,000 beestings on a funny bone that is somehow also a vibrating tuning fork.'

"...sorry, should have given you the heads up that I was re-attaching the nerves," said Liao, glancing up.

"And...I probably... shouldn't have said... the ultra-killer-deathbot... thing..." Sojourn winced out between gritted teeth.

"Oh I know you didn't mean it like you thought I was working on an ultra killer...anyway--I'm just saying stuff like that doesn't even phase me anymore," said Mina with a shrug, "But I appreciate the thought."

"Mm!" Sojourn's eye was still squinted shut in pain as she eked out a nod before clenching and unclenching her prosthetic hand with ease, "Works like new!" she squeaked out.

"The sting will fade, it always does, just give it a few seconds," Liao gently layered her hands around Sojourn's fist, the movement like a flower closing at night. "Breathe..."

Sojourn took a few steady breaths as she sank back in her seat a little, pushing the ringing memory of the pain from her mind.

"...I think I know the other reason you come to me," said Liao, lightly running her thumb over Sojourn's prosthetic knuckles, "If you went to the regular infirmary, all the recruits would find out you're a big baby."

"Oh that's just mean," said Sojourn.

"But I'm right," said Mina.

"But you're right," said Sojourn with an eye roll.

#Mina liao #sojourn overwatch #liaojourn #...i don't know if that's the ship name but it's the one that makes the most sense to me #'sarah is the nerve reattachment thing from FMA' yes yes it is it always from FMA #overwatch

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ellaenchanting · 4 years ago

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Hypnovember 2020 Master List

Now that I have awoken from my post-Hypnovember nap, it’s time to post my 2020 Master List! in comparison to last year’s entries, a lot of stories this year delved more into either more intense kinks or more of my intense personal feelings than my stories last year did. Sometimes writing stories is a bit like reading my own tarot cards in that way- letting an ambiguous prompt roll around in my subconscious and sometimes being surprised or amused or even slightly unsettled by what it turns into. I hope you will find something in this group of works that soothes you, that turns you on, that intrigues you, and that most of all provokes a response. If you do, I’d absolutely love to hear about it. :)

Copying one of my favorite @jukeboxemcsa ideas, I’ve also included a HypnoBS rating for every work about how realistic the hypnosis/mind control is in each work (IMHO). In this ranking, 1 means to is absolute bullshit and 5 is a normal Tuesday night (for someone).

Icons- 📰- story. 🔊- audio 💻- technology 😍- romantic 🌈- queer 😴- regular ole’ hypnosis 🛀- brainwashing and/or character in tub 👻- spooky 🐈- at least one happy pussy ❓- bad or reeeally questionable consent 👨‍🔬 -science! 🤪 -crackfic #-#sceneideas 😭-feeeels ⭐-author’s personal favorites

Day 1: Instant M/f 📰 😴🐈#😭

Choice quote: “Sean chuckled as he moved in closer. And closer. ‘I thought you wanted to know what it was like to be hypnotized, sweetheart. To follow suggestions? To have someone else take control? It’s not real control if I’m doing something you already wanted, now is it?”

HypnoBS- 5. Read the whole thing but- IMHO totally plausible.

Fun Fact- These are the same characters from last year’s Day 5: Poison.

Day 2: Coils F/m 📰 😴 💻 👨‍🔬

Choice quote: “Daniel rolled his eyes. ‘I bet you could hypnotize me with a bar of soap if you wanted to. That still doesn’t make me like spirals.’”

HypnoBS- 5. Maybe 4 because I don’t love the induction but- maybe you will? Also- oh no poor Daniel is so conditioned that he’ll go under to anything Jamie does! How hard for him. :(

Day 3: Staged Hypnosis (Stage) F/f 📰 😴 🌈 🛀 ❓

Choice quote: “No one needed to know she was a plant. A confederate. A stooge.”

HypnoBS- 1.5. This would collapse like a house of cards. It’s a fun concept though.

Day 4: Psychic F/nb 📰 😴 🌈 😍 👨‍🔬⭐

Choice quote: “Something about the hypnosis- being in and out of each other’s heads and in and out of each other’s bodies all weekend- made her feel like she and Tris had merged in some way. Like there was a new, deeper understanding between them now- a telepathic bond.”

HypnoBS- 5. Maybe a 4.5 if you’re recognizing some nre magical thinking here. But- I’ve definitely had this feeling and this kind of experience- and I hope some of you have had it/will have it as well. :)

Day 5: Visor F/multiple 📰 😴 🛀 💻 👨‍🔬 🤪#

Choice quote: “Besides, everyone knew stormtroopers were kinky.”

HypnoBS- 4.5. Some of the exact details would need to be changed and thought through more thoroughly, but I absolutely believe you could do something like this if you wanted to. (And if you do, you definitely have to let me know. I know some of y’all out there go to Dragoncon.)

Day 6: Pendulum F/y’all 🔊😴 👨‍🔬

Choice quote: This is a trick I first learned from a science book I read in 5th grade.

HypnoBS- 5. The real thing.

Day 7: Song Aliens/the human race 📰 💻 👻❓

Choice quote: “Anna didn’t know what she was singing.”

HypnoBS- 1. I hope. Why do the song based stories always turn out so creepy?

Day 8: Performance unknown/f 📰 👻❓😴# ⭐

Choice quote: “With each snap, the gears inside her doll body click click click clicked into action. She turned, jerky but graceful. She was determined to do well. “

HypnoBS- 5 (if part of a fearplay scene, which is my headcanon for this story)

Day 9: (Hot Under the) Collar F/f 📰 😴🛀🌈 🐈#⭐

Choice quote: “She was wearing her collar. She was aroused. It was as simple as that.“

HypnoBS- 5 With time, I think you could do this. Maybe a 4.5 for the 30 minutes thing- that might lead to a bit too much cramping.

Day 10: Gentle 🔊😴

Choice quote: “Just look into the spiral....”

HypnoBS- 5. I hope.

Day 11: Summoning Sappho (Summon) eventual F/f I hope 📰 😴🌈 🤪

Choice quote: “In fact, the only ideas left to try on their brainstorming board included ‘sexy alien invasion’, ‘sexy witches’, and this. Shockingly, at this point a sexy seance seemed the most practical.”

HypnoBS-1. Although stay tuned for Femme Flirt 2021.

Day 12: Plants unknown/m 📰 😴🛀#

Choice quote: “If he focused, Chris could feel that new suggestion also growing stronger and stronger, becoming more and more firmly rooted inside of him. “

HypnoBS- 5, with the right person

Day 13: Artifact F/f 📰 😴🛀🌈 ��‍🔬 ❓

Choice quote: “She fumbled through the contents when suddenly her hand found something unexpected from her past.A red lipstick tube. An artifact.”

HypnoBS- 4? There’s different ways of reading this story, but my headcanon is that the consent here is pretty dubious.

Day 14: Tail M/f 📰 😴🛀❓👻#

Choice quote: “It was no use. She could sense her tail was still behind her. She couldn’t shake him. She should have known he’d come for her.“

HypnoBS- Let’s say 2. Although I think this could work really well for a fearplay scene in an appropriate setting (where someone wasn’t actually left unmonitored with extreme paranoia).

Day 15: Serve F/m 📰 😴#⭐

Choice quote: “He had put his heart and soul into the dish.They were hers now.”

HypnoBS- As a scene? 5 (depending on the person). As a long term effect, much lower.

Day 16: Memory F/f 📰 😴 🛀🌈 😍

Choice quote: “Mesmera waited for Galaxy Girl at the door.”

HypnoBS- 4, you could do an induction along these lines but -1 for psychic powers

Fun Fact: These characters were originally featured in last year’s Day 19: Hideout.

Day 17: Toy F/f m/f 📰 😴 🛀🌈🐈 #

Choice quote: “Dolly hated to have Bad Manners. “

HypnoBS- 4.5. This is pretty deep into headspace, but I wouldn’t want to rule it out for the right person.

Day 18: Monster m/f 📰 😴 ❓😭⭐

Choice quote: “That kind of stuff wasn’t fair to think about here. It wasn’t everyone else’s fault that she was so warped.”

HypnoBS- 5. Ouch my heart. Poor young!Ella.

Day 19: Eyes M/m 📰 😴 🌈 😍

Choice quote: “Scott looked into his partner Brandon’s eyes. Brandon had hypnotized him so many times over the years in so many ways but- this was one of Scott’s favorites.”

HypnoBS- 5. Especially in a long term relationship like this. (In my pretend Hypnovember universe, these guys are some of the patriarchs of the hypnokinky convention scene and absolutely wonderful advice givers.)

Fun fact: The story of how these characters originally got together is in last year’s Day 12: Stage story.

Day 20: Possession F/f 📰 😴 🌈 😍😭

Choice Quote- “Things that were hard to do for herself during these times became easier to do as something owned by Thadra. Taking a shower. Getting up and going to bed at the right time. Making sure she ran once a day. Making sure she ate.”

HypnoBS- Errr....4 trending upwards. Although for this to be safe and healthy you’d really need to be checking in with a therapist and working on your continuing mental health at the same time (IMHO). Please do not get relationship advice from my porn.

Day 21: Snaps 🔊😴👨‍🔬

Choice Quote- “No, that one was up.”

HypnoBS- 5. I’m not sure quite how this translates to audio but this is the kind of shenanigans I pull with friends all of the time.

Day 22: Restrict F/f 📰 😴 🌈 🐈👨‍🔬

Choice quote: “’Hmm. By ‘weird’ do you mean ‘hot’?’ asked Zahara, lounging above her on the couch. Nikki nodded. She definitely meant hot. “

HypnoBS- 2. A month is a long time and this is a strong reaction. But- maaaaaybe would work for a bit, especially within these boundaries?

Day 23: Villain there’s a m and a f 📰 🛀👨‍🔬❓#

Choice quote: “They had been planning against that damned do-gooder reporter Lizzy Lampost for months and now they were about to finally have her in their clutches. “

HypnoBS-1. But you’re not reading this one for realism, are you?

Day 24: Drink F/f 📰 😴👨‍🔬🌈 😍

Choice quote: “’Leah,’ she said. ‘I’ve found a drinking game! This might be fun! Want to try it?’”

HypnoBs- 5. With the right person. (That part of the end might be a bit harder.)

Day 25:Worship: F/m 📰 🛀🌈

Choice quote: “After all, it wasn’t the time to work right now. It was time to worship his Mistress’s cock.”

HypnoBS- Someone on AO3 told me this fic just wrecked them. Lucky that person- this one’s a 5. Maybe not with everyone, but an awful lot of people should be able to do an awful lot of the activities in this story. :)

Day 26: Fey M/f 📰😴 😭⭐

Choice quote: “Humans do not know the spells they weave.”

HypnoBS- 1 Only true in that metaphorical way. (So- really, really true. But not factual.)

Day 27: Recording F./m 📰 🛀❓👻#

Choice quote: “It’s a recording, he reminded himself. “She’s not there. No one is there.”

HypnoBS- 2 At least, I don’t know how to make this happen (outside of a consensual scene).

Day 28: Obsession M/F 📰 🛀😍👨‍🔬

Choice quote: “Some guys had cars. Some had computer systems. Some had home brewing. But Mark’s obsession was Julia.“

HypnoBS- Oh gosh. Errr...2.5? Hard to say.

Fun Fact: This started as a one-sided scenario, then it changed, then it felt really hot, now it feels like a sweet silly sitcom premise. (If you want to read some episode synopses of this hypothetical sitcom, there are some brilliant ones here! Also- feel free to send me more!)

Day 29: Helpless F/m 📰😴😍

Choice quote: “’I want to be helpless,’ he replied. Juan felt his headspace changing. He threw himself into that feeling, trusting Josie to take the reins.“

HypnoBS- 5. Not a scene log, but pretty much How I Top.

Day 30: Awaken 🔊😴👨‍🔬

Choice quote: “Aaaaaand-awaken!”

HypnoBS- 5 Hypnotist BS- also a 5

Thank you all for reading these! Thank you especially to everyone who reblogged, wrote me comments, and generally supported me through this past month. I’m going to specifically single out @daja-the-hypnokitten, @wellgnawed, and @spiralturquoise for the encouragement- y’all are the best. :) I know this is a long post, but I’d really appreciate reblogs of it!

Also, I didn’t have time to contribute myself but- if you donate to Hypnokink for Trans Lives, let me know and I’ll write you an epilogue for any of these stories that you choose.

#Hypnovember 2020 #master post #me/my accomplishments #thank you all again for reading!#seeing people actually liking my stuff gives me a ton of energy to keep going #<3 #19746 words and almost an hour of audio #an entire month of my life :P #not a novel but definitely a novella

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shutupandshipit · 4 years ago

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Singing from the soul - Oneshot

Summary: 'If you're gonna tell them everything/tell them I'm a good kisser./Tell them all things you told me/in your desperate whisper./If you're gonna tell them everything/don't leave out the good part./Tell them the way that you broke my heart/when you told me that your missed her./Tell them I'm a good kisser!' Bakugou's voice was a pleasant warm rumble through the room.

Jirou wasn't sure how many people knew, but he had a great singing voice. Not as rough around the edges as his regular speaking voice, but more smooth like an old time jazz singer. She'd never admit it out loud, not to Bakugou at least, but she loved listening to him sing and often goaded him into it. In her room, he sang more freely than when they were outside which was just another plus to this weird arrangement that they had.

.....

Or where Jirou finds out who Bakugou's soulmate is, and has minor dilemma on whether she should tell him or not.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: T (for some choice words, but that’s it)

Author’s Note: The songs included in this fic all belong to their creators. Those songs are in order of appearance: -Good Kisser by Lake Street Dive -Bakugo Rap by Daddyphatsnaps -Love Like You by Caleb Hyles

They're all really great songs and they're all available on Spotify! Go listen to them! Also, since I was listening to it while writing/posting this, another great song that very much reminds me of these two is POV by Ariana Grande!

Jirou lounged back against the pillows of her bed slowly making her way through the day's homework. At the end of her bed, Bakugou's blond tufts stuck up just over the edge of the purple bedspread. Music thrummed through her room, quiet and unassuming as to not disturb their studying.

Normal business as usual.

She couldn't exactly remember when this had started, Bakugou knocking on her door to study and the pair of them sitting in companionable silence with only music to fill the space. Sometimes they discussed her music choice of the day or something that didn't make sense on their homework, but mostly, they were silent. Their time together was probably the only times Jirou saw Bakugou do anything quietly. It was relieving and honestly a breath of fresh air, and she thought that maybe it was the same for him.

Bakugou huffed, and there was the soft clatter of his glasses hitting the table as she finally glanced up from her book. His head was leaned back against the bed, heels of his palms pressed into his eyes. Silently, his lips moved, but they weren't moving along to the words of what they were listening to.

Reaching over, she turned down the volume on her radio to near silent. “What's the matter?”

“My soulmate,” Bakugou ground out, pressing palms into his eyes harder, “Keeps singing the same song over and over again. Fucking annoying.”

“What's the song?”

'If you're gonna tell them everything/tell them I'm a good kisser./Tell them all things you told me/in your desperate whisper./If you're gonna tell them everything/don't leave out the good part./Tell them the way that you broke my heart/when you told me that your missed her./Tell them I'm a good kisser!' Bakugou's voice was a pleasant warm rumble through the room.

It was good that his singing voice was nice though because his soulmate, whoever they may be, had a habit of singing for hours on end. Sometimes Bakugou could resist the pull, clench his jaw against the words trying to roll off his own tongue. Other times, he either didn't have the energy to fight it or just didn't care, and let them flow. When he was in her room, he rarely tried to force them down.

"Over and over and over again," Bakugou growled, still in the same position as before, "Like the song doesn't have any other lyrics or something."

"I've heard it before. I think they just like those lyrics. Maybe it's stuck in their head."

"Fucking fantastic."

Jirou smiled, reaching over to pat his spikes. He growled at her, but didn't move as she swung her legs over the side. “Is it really that annoying?”

Again, Bakugou growled. When he dropped his hands, it was only to reach for her music player on her bedside table. “Enough to need something to drown out the little fuck. Can't believe he's listening to something so annoying. I don't think it's stuck in his head, I just think he put it on replay.” He scrolled through her playlist before clicking out and going to the list of music they'd made together.

That was another thing that had become common, and it had happened after the music festival. Making music together. Unbeknownst to the others, Bakugou could rap and seemed to prefer it, though she'd gotten him to duet with her a couple times. His voice filled her room as he turned up the volume on the stereo.

“He?” Jirou asked curiously. She stretched her arms high over her head, back popping from neck to waist. “Do you know who it is?”

Bakugou ducked his head back towards his book, but she knew he was lying when his ears blushed red. “No, how the fuck would I know that for sure? It just wouldn't make any sense if my soulmate were a chick seeing as I'm gay.”

Jirou hummed, but thought about how soulmates weren't always exclusively romantic. They could be platonic. Kaminari and she had proven that when they'd figured out they were soulmates.

People could also have multiple soulmates, and Kaminari had proven that when he'd started singing someone else's song and she hadn't been compelled to join him. That had been a very strange and confusing day, but they'd figured it out. Kaminari was still looking for his second soulmate, but it didn't stop him from singing Jirou's song with her.

“A plausible reason,” she said, slipping her slippers on, “Do you want anything? I'm going to get a drink from downstairs.”

"The watermelon lemonade I made earlier.”

“Sure thing.” As she left the room, she heard Bakugou start in with the song he'd put on. She rolled her eyes, and closed the door.

Downstairs, her classmates were clustered in the living room laughing wildly. Stepping up beside Kaminari, she raised an eyebrow. “What's going on?”

Wiping a tear from beneath an eye, Kaminari gasped. “Midoriya's soulmate has got him spitting bars. It wouldn't be so funny if it were just normal rapping, but-” Another peel of laughter fell from his mouth, and he wrapped his arms around his stomach.

Jirou raised an eyebrow, and stepped closer to get a good look at Midoriya. His face was red from forehead to chin, mouth moving rapidly as he shielded his face with his arms. Her eyebrows jumped higher as she finally caught the words.

'Let me just tell you something/You don't want to fuck with me./Imma be number one cause bitch that's all that I can see./King of the UA/Everybody knows that I'm a G/Everybody knows that I will be/Top of the class/No rivalry-' He clamped his lips shut, but after a moment, the words were spilling out again. 'What I gotta do to prove I'm in another league?/I get stronger as I go/Don't give a fuck about fatigue./I'm a warrior without a challenge-' Curling in on himself, Midoriya hid his head between his knees. His words went muffled, and Jirou finally stepped away towards the kitchen.

Rushing, she grabbed two glasses and the jug of watermelon lemonade before booking it back upstairs. There was absolutely no way that Midoriya and Bakugou were soulmates. There was just no way. It was ludicrous to think about, to even consider. What kind of sick joke would that be for the universe to bind the two of them like that?

She bumped her door open with her hip and paused in the doorway to hear Bakugou still going for it. The song had changed, but a quick plug of her jack into the floor told her Midoriya's words still matched up perfectly with Bakugou's. She felt dizzy with the new revelations, confused even. It just didn't make any kind of sense.

Swallowing, she set the glasses and jug on the table. “Have you ever thought that your soulmate might be embarrassed when you rap? You're songs aren't exactly... clean.”

Bakugou glanced up, pausing.

Through the floor, she heard Midoriya let out a grateful sigh.

“Has my soulmate ever thought that maybe I get embarrassed when he makes me sing Ariana Grande or Blackpink for hours on end? Tic for tak.” He waved off her concern, glancing down at his papers again. “He'll be fine.”

Jirou rolled her eyes and poured herself as glass of the lemonade. “Oh, I'm sure. They'd have to be able to take a lot to deal with you.”

Bakugou's head jerked up. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what is sounds like.” She grinned, and he flipped her off.

…..

After that, Jirou made a habit of paying more attention to the pair more than normal. She wasn't normally one to insert herself into her classmates' business mainly because she didn't want them in hers. She was making an exception for these two, determined to figure out 1) how they couldn't have possibly realized it yet and 2) how it was even possible. They were the bad kind of opposites. They still barely got along, even after everything they'd been through. Their tolerance of each other had to do with necessity rather than want. They couldn't even agree on a drink to buy from the vending machine.

She'd watched an argument breakout between them when Midoriya offered to split a drink with Bakugou on one of the hotter summer days, but they'd never even made it to pushing coins into the machine before storming away from each other. She didn't understand it, but she wanted to.

So she started to pay attention. Neither of them had a habit of singing during the school day, both staying relatively quiet except to talk to friends or answer a question in class. Neither of them even hummed. During the day, there wasn't even a peep of musical notes.

At night when they were back at the dorms was a different story all together.

Jirou would often walk downstairs to find Midoriya and Bakugou whispering the words to the same song under their breath on opposite sides of the common room. Or pass each other with their headphones in, one singing loudly while the other's mouth barely moved. Or eating at dinner with someone playing music, and one would start singing followed closely by the other. Or Bakugou would be sitting on her bedroom floor singing along to something slow that had come on, and she would plug her headphone into the floor to hear Midoriya crooning the same song on the floor below.

It was honestly maddening. Now that she was paying attention, it felt incredibly obvious what they were. There was a voice in her head screaming at her to tell them, to reveal the truth to them, but even though she was invested, she was unwilling to meddle to that degree.

Leaning against the edge of her balcony late one night, she didn't notice the two bodies slipping across the lawn. It was late enough that the lawn was dark, all of the lights on the bottom floor turned off as well as the girls' side of the building. The sky was moonless, the dark expanse punched through with numerous stars and beautiful to a fault.

It was the only reason Jirou was still awake. Her eyes were trained on the sky, watching shooting stars pass in a never ending shower.

So, no, she didn't see the two bodies stopping in the middle of the lawn or fanning out the blanket that had been bundled under an arm or lying down side by side with their hands twined between them. She did hear them though, hear the first beginning threads of song. A quiet humming in the dark.

Jirou's eyes jerked down, easily finding the dark shapes in the grass below.

“Deku,” a second voice growled without heat, “You know I'm not a fan of that song.”

Midoriya's voice floated up from the darkness, soft and coaxing. “But I like singing it with you. Just once. Please?”

After a pause, Bakugou grumbled, “Fine, but you can't complain about what I choose next. And no crying this time.”

Midoriya's reply was to start up his humming again, a light gentle tune that after a moment, Bakugou picked up with his deeper base. Their voices were a harmony Jirou didn't think they could achieve, Bakugou with the deep smoothness of his singing voice and Midoriya's tentative but strong tenor. Listening to them was like watching a romance at the exact moment the main characters fell in love.

Their words filled the night, gentle and twining. 'If I could begin to be/half of what you think of me/I could about anything/I could even learn how to love./When I see the way you act/wondering when I'm coming back/I could do about anything/I could even learn how to love/like you-' Midoriya's happy little chirp of a laugh cut into their words, even as Bakugou kept going. 'I always thought/I might be bad/now I'm sure that its true!/'Cause I think you're so good/and I'm nothing like you!/Look at you go!/I just adore you!/I wish that I knew!' Midoriya jumped in, their voices twining together again if a little choked. 'What makes you think I'm so special.'

Jirou felt heat press in at the backs of eyes, and she pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her sniffle.

Bakugou's voice dropped away, and this time Midoriya sang as his voice trembled with obvious tears. 'If I could begin to do/something that does right by you/I would do about anything/I would even learn how to love./When I see the way you look/shaken by how long it took/I could do about anything/I could even learn how to love/like you. Love like you~'

Again, Bakugou joined in, and she could hear just how tight his throat had gotten as his voice deepened. 'Even though I can't compare/and I'm sorry if I stare/I just want to do everything./Maybe I could even learn how to love./ People say/this love is wrong/but all I want is to belong./I could say without any doubt/everyone should learn how to love/like you/love like you/love like you~'

They trailed off, and after a time, Bakugou whispered, “This is why I don't like singing this song. You always end up crying at the end.” In the darkness, she could just barely make out one form pulling the other in close.

“I'm sorry. I just love listening to you sing it. It makes me happy.”

“I know, that's why I do it even if I don't want to.”

'Holy shit.' Jirou's thoughts were a scatter of confusion and elation. On the one side, she was happy that they were together, that they knew about each other. On the other side, she was so incredibly confused on how they hid it so well. And on one last side, she was a little embarrassed to still be standing on her balcony listening to their private moment together. 'I should go inside. I should forget about this. I should congratulate Bakugou tomorrow about it.' She had too many thoughts and not enough brain capacity to deal with them at the moment.

Midoriya hummed, and she heard a barely audible, “I love you, Kacchan.”

'Definitely time to go!' As quickly and quietly as she could, she slipped back into her room and started closing the sliding glass door, but she still caught Bakugou's reply.

“Love you too, 'Zuku.”

#my hero academia #mha #bakudeku #dekubaku #decchan #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #jirou kyouka #Jirou POV #alt pov #one shot #my writing #singing from the soul #soulmate au #singing soulmate au

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bestworstcase · 4 years ago

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replies on this post ( @ngocthach4020, numbering mine ):

Counterarguments:

1 - While I do agree that Zhan Tiri does a good job making it seem like she does care about Cassandra, the fact that Cassandra trusted a total stranger for over a year in itself makes her intelligence dubious at best. Not to mention Cassandra never asks the total stranger who mysteriously knows this much about her for her NAME during all that time, nor tries to find out anything else about her.

2 - Rapunzel is the heir to the throne. Of course she’s going to get more recognition than Cassandra. Cassandra herself was given multiple guard assignments throughout Season 1, cheered on by the people of Corona even when she came second place to Rapunzel at the Challenge of the Brave, and trusted with leading the assault against Varian in the season finale. This isn’t even getting into how she has plenty of opportunities at Ingvarr or Vardaros.

3 - The people of Vardaros focused on Rapunzel despite preferring Cassandra over her, yes, but that doesn’t change how they treated Rapunzel like dirt and Cassandra seemed to LIKE that.

4 - In the song I’d Give Anything, Rapunzel does acknowledge she wronged Cassandra.

5 - Just because Cassandra has legitimate grievances, it doesn’t excuse her trying to murder people who never did anything bad to her, which she does several times throughout Season 3.

firstly: i mean this in the kindest way possible but none of these are actually counter-arguments to the point i was making, which is that cassandra has very good reasons for her decision to trust zhan tiri and be emotionally vulnerable with her in the house of yesterday’s tomorrow. #2 is the only one relevant to the subject at hand, #1, #4, and #5 all concern things that happen after the incident being discussed and are thus irrelevant, and for #3 it’s unclear to me what point you think you’re countering and also, i have no idea what you’re talking about.

but as with anything i have plenty of thoughts

#1: i have two thoughts about this one

the first is that this is, first and foremost, a writing issue. for whatever reason, the writing team was not interested in digging into cassandra’s character arc in s3, and they also were not interested in developing zhan tiri as a character, and they really were not interested in elaborating on the cass + zhan tiri friendship whatsoever. the end result of this lack of interest is that all of this character development is gestured at or loosely implied, and the vast majority of their relationship occurs off screen. we are shown their first meeting in relative detail, given a handful of brief glimpses that mostly comprise zhan tiri saying a line or two while cassandra listens and glares, and then given the end result of cass doing whatever zhan tiri tells her to do until a narratively convenient plot device is inserted to make her stop. the character development in this arc is extremely poor. no one is arguing that it isn’t.

however my second thought is that, as a consequence, “cass travels with this person for almost a year without ever asking her name or trying to find out anything about her” is not, in fact, canon. that’s a matter of interpretation. (eg: i spent the entirety of the first half of the season assuming that of course cassandra knew who zhan tiri was, my reaction to CR in this regard boiled down to “well if cass didn’t already know that was zhan tiri she certainly does NOW,” RTTS did nothing to change my mind, and i was legitimately taken aback when OAH confirmed that cass just didn’t know. all of this was a plausible interpretation because so little of the cass + ziti relationship actually develops on screen. there is SO MUCH information missing.)

the point being: the only canonical information we have regarding zhan tiri’s identity and cassandra’s knowledge thereof is that cassandra doesn’t learn zhan tiri’s true identity until OAH. this does not preclude cassandra pressing the issue and zhan tiri lying to her by telling her a fake name, or feigning ignorance (a la “i’ve been trapped in that house for as long as i can remember and i have no idea where i came from or who i was before then,” which is absolutely a plausible cover story given the kind of things tromus pulled off whilst team corona was trapped in the HOYT and that cass herself has very recent experience with magical memory loss), or masquerading as an aspect of the moonstone itself (which is at least plausible enough that a good chunk of the fandom theorized that that’s who she was in the early half of the season).

there is, frankly, no evidence to support interpreting cassandra’s “who are you?” as “i’ve literally never asked this question before” instead of “you told me things about yourself that i believed but it’s not adding up anymore so i’m confronting you on your lies” or vice versa, because... we just don’t know. i personally favor the latter interpretation over the former, because it makes more sense to me, but the text is unclear.

all of which is to say: the post was about why cassandra trusts zhan tiri initially, a questions which - as i said in the original post - is answered very clearly on screen. there is not enough canonical information about the development of their relationship afterwards to do anything more than speculative analysis, ie headcanon,��regarding how zhan tiri cultivated that trust. for what it’s worth my personal assumption is that zhan tiri continued to act as she does in RR, fostering the emotional connection between herself and cassandra, and that shortly after the stinger in who’s afraid of the big bad wolf (ie their second proper meeting) she gave cass some explanation of who she was and what she wanted. i also make the general assumption that they shared a lot of conversations during the long walk back to corona because it is ludicrous to imagine otherwise.

#2: cassandra is a commoner who was indoctrinated from birth with the cultural belief that the lives of the royal family are more important and have more inherent worth than her own. this only intensified once rapunzel returned to corona. cassandra exists in a system that chews her up and spits her out without so much as a thank you, and rapunzel is the center around which that system orbits. “rapunzel is the heir to the throne so of course she gets more recognition than cassandra, her servant” isn’t, in fact, a counterargument. that is exactly the problem. the world cass is in is inherently devalues her personhood. even her own father repeatedly prioritizes his duty to the monarchy over the wellbeing of his daughter.

in s1, cass is given guard duties which she is expected to fit around her already extremely busy schedule as a maid and lady-in-waiting to the princess, all without ever being made an actual member of the royal guard. she is given, in other words, all of the work and responsibility without any of the recognition, salary, benefits, or job security afforded to actual guards, and she is expected to do it during her scant time off. and she does it all with the constant unspoken threat of being sent to a convent against her will if she screws up looming over her head. that’s not... privilege or an opportunity, that’s flat out exploitation.

even in SOTS, she is only put in command of the assault on old corona because most of the higher officers of the guard are out of commission, including the captain. and this happens mere hours after her father forcibly sends her to a convent, which really underscores what little autonomy cassandra has in her life and how capricious and arbitrary any “opportunities” that come her way in corona are.

yes, she is better accepted in vardaros and the queen of ingvarr did at one point extend an invitation for her to join the battalion in ingvarr, but—again, that’s not really a counterargument. “cassandra would have to leave her home and move to a foreign kingdom in order to be treated with respect and live as her authentic self” is an enormous indictment of corona itself.

#3: the vardarans are less than receptive to rapunzel attempting to force her sunny demeanor onto them and react with hostile indifference when she persists even after being told—by multiple people including vex, quaid, cassandra, and iirc eugene—that her behavior was not wanted or welcome. they make their opinions known without making any attempt to soften the blow, but—with the one exception of “ya clod” lady—none of them harass or bully her. i’m not sure where you’re getting “they treat her like dirt” from. they treat her like people who are annoyed with having someone else’s culture jammed down their throats by some foreign princess, which,

cass, by the same token, enjoys being surrounded by people she “clicks” with and with whom she can just relax and be herself, and she repeatedly cautions rapunzel against trying to make the vardarans act, think, and feel like coronans... in other words, she advises rapunzel to be culturally sensitive. and she’s right to do so. cass doesn’t start gloating about being better liked until after rapunzel lashes out at her and makes a huge deal out of cass’s events being different / more in tune with vardaran culture than her own.

#4: things rapunzel does a full year after cass meets zhan tiri in the shell house are not relevant to the question of why cass trusts zhan tiri in the shell house and also lol no... she doesn’t? these are the lyrics of i’d give anything:

[RAPUNZEL] I know we've grown apart It breaks my heart in two I miss your company The closeness we once knew

I won't pretend to know Just what you're going through But I'd give anything for you Yes, I'd give anything to relive everything with you So if you find that you're in darkness or despair Though you won't turn to me Please know I'll be right there Name any sacrifice I'll pay the price that's due 'Cause I'd give anything for you Yes, I'd give anything to relive everything we knew Yes, I'd give anything For you

i don’t... know how to read an expression of apology or even just acknowledgement of wrongdoing into this song because it... isn’t there. this is the exact same sentiment rapunzel spends the entirety of s3 expressing, which is that she misses her friendship with cass and would do anything to get it back and she doesn’t understand why cassandra is so upset. and frankly it really. does not reflect well on rapunzel as a character because cassandra explains her grievances very clearly at the beginning of the season: “my whole life, i’ve been cast aside for you. no more,” followed by, you know, the entirety of crossing the line.

like even just... compare rapunzel’s lines at the top of crossing the line:

[RAPUNZEL] This has to stop now Whatever it is that you're going through We'll fix it together, me and you Just like we've always done

to her lines in i’d give anything:

I won't pretend to know Just what you're going through

there has been zero growth. zero recognition of the fact that cassandra has, by the time of i’d give anything, told rapunzel what she’s going through at least three times. (she laid everything out for rapunzel in the dark fortress after taking the moonstone; in gothel’s mirror room in TOTS, cassandra expressed her anguish over gothel’s abandonment and her feelings of inferiority; in OAH, cass used feldspar’s play to fumblingly express her difficulty sharing her feelings with rapunzel; and if you want to count the BVA rock telepathy and cassandra furiously screaming “i don’t follow your orders anymore!” in CR, that brings us to a total of five times that cassandra shares at least part of what she’s “going through” with rapunzel only for it to, apparently, go in one ear and out the other because by plus est raps is still like “what could POSSIBLY be GOING ON with cass.”)

the closest rapunzel ever comes to expressing her own wrongdoing is the mealy-mouthed “we both did things wrong” sentiment in OAH (“maybe you’re right and it is your fault, rapunzel... partially...”), which she then undermines by going essentially “but if you had just told me how you felt then none of this would have happened” (ignoring that cass... did... tell her how she felt... repeatedly... in s2...) and rapunzel acknowledging that it was probably annoying to deal with a sunny “flower child” when she was fresh out of the tower (which is true, but entirely glosses over her treatment of cass in s2). in the former instance it’s unclear what, if anything, rapunzel truly thinks she did wrong (certainly “not listening” isn’t it), and in the latter case she is apologizing for being ~too free-spirited~ in the first couple weeks after the tower which... wasn’t even the problem back then and certainly wasn’t the core problem in s2. and by her own admission in i’d give anything rapunzel still doesn’t even understand why cassandra was upset in the first place, let alone how she may have contributed to it.

like the utter dearth of development between cass and zhan tiri, this is ultimately a writing problem that reflects poorly on the character, rather than a character problem per se. for whatever reason, the writing team didn’t want to examine the legitimacy of cassandra’s actual grievances—which by extension meant that they couldn’t write rapunzel as having any awareness of those grievances, so the end result is cass obsessing over gothel and rapunzel spending the entire season baffled, just baffled, about what cass is so worked up about, all while sadly pining for the friendship they used to have and vocalizing a desire to get it back but simultaneously ignoring everything cass says about why she’s upset, because rapunzel listening to cass would require rapunzel to genuinely wrestle with her own role in what happened, which isn’t possible because that would loop us back around to all those legitimate grievances that the writers just didn’t want to (or couldn’t) deal with.

but tldr no at no point in the narrative of s3 does rapunzel genuinely acknowledge the actual things she did wrong by cass.

#5: i’m genuinely not sure why you think this is even relevant at all, unless you somehow read “cass did nothing wrong” into the argument of “it is both natural and reasonable for cass to trust the one (1) person who appears to give a damn about how she feels,” which i think says more about you than it does about me.

#rta

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toplinetommy · 4 years ago

Text

You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part Seven) - Tyson Jost

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Words: 7k

a/n: i want to thank everyone that’s been reading along so far, especially those that are reblogging and sending me messages, it means more than you think :)

August 2019 - Kelowna, British Columbia, CA

To say Tyson was nervous would be an understatement. He had just picked you up from the airport, coffee in hand for you due to the early flight, and now you were on the way to the Fabbro’s cabin for the week. The two of you chatted briefly, but your habits of talking everyday left little to no updates to give to the other. But now that the conversation has faded and the sounds filling both yours and Tyson’s ears was his summer playlist through the speakers, you noticed his insistent finger-tapping on the gear shift.

“Why’re you so fidgety?” You ask curiously, placing your hand atop of his to stop his movements.

His eyes flick to where your hands are touching on the gear shift, up to your face, and back to the road in front of him before answering, “Just excited is all.” His answer seems plausible because you were plenty excited to be here, but the small smile that quickly disappeared from his face has you thinking it’s just a cover-up.

“You sure that’s all?”

“Mhmm,” he nods tight-lipped. With his curt response, you retract your hand and turn your gaze back to your phone in your lap, clicking through your Snapchat stories.

“I’m really excited for this week,” you beamed, locking your phone. “And I’m really excited I finally get to meet your friends.”

“I am too,” he responds matter-of-factly as he looks over his shoulder before changing lanes and exiting the highway. “I’m going to warn you; they’re all obnoxious as shit when new people are around.”

“Tyson, I spend eight months a year around you and your teammates chirping, I think I can handle a few more hockey players,” you reassure. “Besides, have you met yourself?”

The chirp pulls a dry laugh from your best friend, “Ha ha. You got a sense of humor all the sudden, eh?”

It’s the last thing he gets out before the view of the lake to your right takes your attention away. Your jaw drops with a gasp at the rolling mountains and the crystal-clear blue water that flowed between them. You rolled your window down, deciding to fully embrace the clean Canadian air, a considerable change from the polluted, less-oxygenated air of Denver.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Tyson gazing in admiration towards you and turn up the radio before smiling out the window. The two of you spend the remainder of the car ride singing along to the songs playing through the speakers and Tyson pointing out any notable landmarks he sees.

As he pulls into the large driveway behind the multitude of cars and throws the car in park, your awe-struck gaze stays plastered on your face. You hop out of the car, turning your head to the back of the vehicle to see Tyson grabbing your duffel bag. You thank him, and he leads you through the front door of the house. It’s eerily quiet even though it’s nearing noon, and you look around the vast living room and kitchen before Tyson is leading you up the stairs and down the hallway to his bedroom. He had plopped your bag onto the bed, the one he told you you’d be sharing.

“Where is everyone?” You ask, taking the few steps to the window to look at the view out towards the lake. You spot a group of guys all in various spots of the backyard; one’s running off the dock and diving into the water, two girls are lying in the grass, and one other guy is walking around gathering several different water toys. “Oh, nevermind.”

“If you change into a bathing suit, we can go join them,” Tyson suggests as he appears behind you. “They already worked out this morning, so the rest of the day is free for whatever. We usually just mess around until we get hungry.”

You nod your head, turning around and heading to your duffel bag in search of a bathing suit. You pull out one of the many, Tyson laughing as you throw the variety of different colored tops and bottoms. You scoff, knowing he’s holding back a comment about your tendency to overpack. “Who’re the girls?” You ask, a hint of jealousy in your tone. Whenever the two of you talked about this trip, he had only ever mentioned you meeting some of his hockey buddies.

“Yeah, about that,” Tyson mumbles, running his hand over the back of his neck. “Mat’s sister ended up visiting, and uh, so is mine?”

“Tyson!” You exclaim, whipping your head to the side, throwing the lilac, two-piece bathing suit you had in your hands at him. He blocks it with his hands and hands it back to you.

“It was last minute!” He defends. “She really wanted to meet you, and she usually spends time out here anyways. It just fell during the same week!”

“Some warning would’ve been nice,” you gruff, folding the bathing suit in your hands. That’s probably why he was so fidgety in the car ride from the airport to the lake, you think. “I’m gonna go change.” You announce, making way to the hallway intending to search for the bathroom.

Tyson steps in front of the door before you reach it, essentially blocking you from leaving, “Hey, you’re not mad at me, right?”

He looks at you with soft eyes filled with worry. Your shoulders drop as you gaze back at your younger friend. “No,” you sigh out. “Just tell me next time, ‘cause it’s kind of a big deal.”

“Okay,” He starts, speaking more to himself than to you. “I’m sorry, though. You can change in here if you want.”

Once you’re done changing you open the door to see Tyson leaning against the wall. He looks up at you, and the way his eyes move from your face down to your bare legs makes your cheeks warm. He leads you out to the backyard, ready to introduce you to his friends.

“There she is!” The one with longer, shaggier, dark hair cheers. Tyson groans next to you and the small group of guys and girls all begin making their way over. “You must be y/n, I’m Mat, but you can call me Barzy.”

“And you play for the Islanders?” You ask, looking for confirmation as you hug him.

“Eh, you got yourself a girl that knows her hockey.” Mat chirps towards Tyson when the two of you pull away.

“And then you must be Dante, and you’re in Nashville?” You ask, unsure if you’re even correct.

“Yeah, but I’m still playing at school this year.” He answers as he accepts your open arms and hugs you in greeting. It clicks in your head now, and you remember how Tyson’s told you he’s still playing college hockey somewhere on the East Coast.

The blonde next to them introduces herself as Liana, Mat’s little sister, and the brunette next to her introduces herself as Kacey. You hug them both, letting your hug linger a bit longer on Tyson’s sister.

“It’s nice to put faces to the names finally, Tys talks about you all a lot during the season,” You comment, following everyone to the end of the dock. Mat dives headfirst in the water, and Liana is close behind him. Dante, however, stays next to you two, deciding to comment on his own,

“Probably not as much as he talks about you to us.”

A boisterous laugh comes from the water at the chirp, and Tyson seethes out a ‘shut the fuck up’ before he’s shoving his friend into the lake with a yelp.

“If they say anything about me, they’re lying.” Tyson rushes out before he’s running away, trying to avoid Dante, who’s getting out of the water to get his revenge. Tyson runs away, jumping into the lake on his own accord, and Liana comes next to you, her blonde hair dripping with lake water.

You spend a majority of the afternoon glued to Tyson’s side, just trying to make up for the time spent away from one another over the past few months. The rest of the group doesn’t seem to mind, and you make a mental note to talk to his sister and friends more for the rest of the week.

After spending hours under the sun that was shining brightly in the sky with no interruptions, your skin was warm and sticky from the combination of sweat and sunscreen, and your hair wet from the clear lake water. You’re more than ready to shower it all off and throw on your biggest hoodie and spend the rest of the evening outside.

Once you’re completely showered, and you’re in your extra-large UND hoodie, you make your way downstairs and outside to join everyone. Dante and Tyson are sitting around the fire pit while Mat is by the grill. He’s finishing up some fish from what you see as you pass by him on your way over to the empty Adirondack chair next to Tyson.

Dinner was spent casually around the small fire, the guys all sharing various stories from when they’ve played together over the years. It was almost like being back at the Rookie House in Colorado, just this time everyone was their age, and you were the oldest for a change. You could tell very early on why Tyson had a hard time coming back to Denver every fall.

As you finish your third drink, you go stand up, intending to head back inside to get a refill, “Does anyone else want a new drink?”

“Nah, I’m good. You wanna switch it up, though?” Mat asks, quirking his eyebrow and looking around for everyone’s reactions. You knit your eyebrows in confusion before everyone around the circle agrees and stands from their seats.

“Barzy can shotgun a beer in like six seconds; you have to see it,” Dante notes, nudging his paler friend. Mat lets out a laugh before he’s racing inside to grab new drinks.

“I couldn’t even tell you when the last time I shotgunned a beer was,” you admit as you all make your way back outside. The group passes the knife around, all piercing the ends of their cans. You go to grab the knife from Tyson, but instead, he hands you his beer and asks for yours, cutting out a hole for you. You smile and thank him and pass the knife down the circle. Everyone clanks their cans in the middle in a cheers before you bring the can to your lips and chug the cold liquid. You drop the can to the grass, a sour look on your face as you shiver from the alcohol.

“You did do that fast, holy shit,” You say, thoroughly impressed.

“He drinks like a fucking fish,” Tyson points. “You guys wanna play a drinking game?”

“If we play flip cup, I call Tyson not being on my team,” You interrupt. Tyson groans next to you, a dumbfounded expression on his face from your chirp. The rest of the group laughs and declines the idea. After a rowdy conversation, you all decide on playing Picolo, a group drinking game app you never deleted off your phone.

“Okay, so the way it works is you pass the phone around the circle, and you just follow the prompt on the screen. Each prompt will tell you who has to drink and how much. It’s really easy to understand once we start going,” You explain, typing in everyone’s names into the game.

“Sounds easy enough,” Tyson shrugs.

“Okay, first one. Tyson,” you turn to your friend sitting next to you. “Make up your mind: if you had to hand in a school project, would you rather Dante or Mat be in your group? That person gives out three sips.”

“Oh, easy. Dante,” He answers without missing a beat. Liana laughs, and Mat drops his jaw in shock. “What? He went to college, and you didn’t.”

You pass the phone to Tyson as Dante gives out his sips, giving one to you, Liana, and Mat.

“Drink two times if you’d told someone you loved them this week,” Tyson says. Everyone around the circle takes two sips, and Tyson passes the phone to Dante.

The six of you continue your game until the sun is long gone in the sky, and Dante is getting up to turn on the outdoor lights. The night ends shortly after that, you barely being able to keep your eyes open with your early morning of travel. Tyson follows you to bed, bidding everyone goodnight and silently glaring at them since he can see the wheels turning in his friends’ heads.

“I know you already said you were, but you’re sure you’re fine sharing a bed all week? I really don’t mind if you kick me to the living room.” He asks, looking for reassurance. You continue to dig through your bag before your toiletries before answering,

“Yes, Tyson. I’d rather share a bed than make one of us go sleep on a couch,” You look at Tyson as you finally locate the small bag. He nods his head in understanding before stripping his t-shirt off and going to the bathroom. You change while he’s finishing up, and you have to hold back your laugh as he double-checks that you’re changed before re-entering the bedroom.

He’s lying on the right side of the bed under the covers when you emerge from the bathroom, just like he does back at the Rookie House in Denver. You hop in bed next to him, bringing the blankets up to your armpits and opening your phone. After a few minutes of scrolling, you lock it and place it on the nightstand next to you.

“Thanks for inviting me, Tys,” You start, turning on your side to face him. “I’m already having a lot of fun, and it’s nice being able to get away from Denver.”

“I’m glad you were able to get the time off,” He responds, turning to his side to face you as well.

The next morning, Tyson’s spot in the bed is empty, and you assume he and the other guys are all participating in their workout. Making your way downstairs to the kitchen after you’ve fully woken up, you greet Liana and Kacey at the kitchen table. You pour yourself a matching mug of coffee, leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Did you guys eat yet?” You ask. “I can make breakfast.”

“I’d be happy to help,” Kacey smiles, standing up from her spot and moving around the table towards you. She opens the large fridge, pulling out the carton of eggs and the milk, while Liana behind you rummages through the pantry to get the pancake mix. Kacey’s in charge of cracking the eggs and Liana’s in charge of measuring out the stuff for the pancakes, and you’re focusing on the stovetop.

The three of you work in tandem, and before you know it, you have plates stacked high with pancakes and a pile of scrambled eggs. You bring the dishes to the table and sit down and begin digging in.

“So, how do you know Tyson again?” Liana asks, taking a sip of her coffee.

“We, uh, met in college. He’s actually not the only NHL player I’m good friends with.” You shrug. Both Laina and Kacey visibly tense, both protective of their older brother’s lifestyles. “I went to North Dakota, and I tutored the hockey team. I was a senior when he was a freshman, and I didn’t really see him much or even know him. Fast forward a few months later, and turns out he lives next to my coworker in Denver.”

“When Tyson officially moved to Denver, he called our mom and me to tell us about this-” Kacey starts before being interrupted by the three men barreling through the back door. Mat steals a pancake off his sister’s plate, which you barely notice because you’re too busy internally drooling over the way Tyson looks. He’s just wearing his running shorts, which are rolled up so you can see his thighs bulging out of them, and his shirt is draped over his shoulder. His torso and arms are glistening in sweat, the lines of his muscles defined, and the veins in his arms protruding as he rests his hands on his hips.

“Not telling any embarrassing stories, eh?” He asks the group but directing his gaze towards his sister, who just shoves another piece of pancake into her mouth.

“Do you guys want food? There’s plenty left,” You suggest, pointing to the plates still full of food. The guys accept their offer, finding empty seats and digging in.

“It’s not supposed to be cloudy at all today so I think the plan is just to spend the day outside,” Mat announces to the table. “We just have to go get fuel for the jetskis.”

“We have paddleboards, a kayak, two jet skis, and spike ball,” Tyson says, focusing on you. “Have you been on a jet ski?”

“I haven’t, no.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll drive you around,” Tyson assures.

A few hours later, you’re diving into the water, swimming over to where Tyson’s resting his arms on the yellow paddleboard. You splash him, making him jerk forward from the surprise burst of water. You swim to the edge, pushing yourself to kneel on it before gaining your balance and standing.

Tyson’s still got his hands on the end, helping you keep it steady. He shakes it slightly with a wide smirk, and you breathe out a small shriek. He does it again, and you bend over at your waist to catch your falling body with your hands.

“Tyson,” You warn harshly. “Don’t fucking do that.”

He just smirks once more, laughing as he uses his strength to twist the paddleboard, forcing you to fall off.

Once you emerge from the water, you brush your hair out of your eyes, glaring at the brunette who’s still laughing. You splash him in revenge, hiding the smile forming on your face.

“And you said I was the rude one.”

He shakes his head at you, now making his way atop the paddleboard, essentially stealing it from you. You take his previous spot, resting your arms on the edges using it to keep you afloat. After a few seconds, you decide to join him on it, shaking it a bit as you sit down on it.

Tysons takes a seat across from you, criss-cross applesauce just like you. You clasp your hands on either side of the board, attempting to shake it a bit to throw Tyson’s balance off.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, eh?” Tyson quirks.

You laugh, continuing your efforts to throw him off. Both of you let out loud laughs and occasional shrieks when you’re close to falling. In the end, Tyson’s athletic build is no match for yours, and you fall off every time you get back up. When someone yells that they’re starting to make lunch, you take that time to catch him off-guard, and you shove him off.

With Tyson’s face pressed against your shoulder blade and the left half of his body thrown over your back combined with the higher than average heat in the bedroom, you twist your face in frustration. You had gone to bed over an hour ago, Tyson joining you shortly after and falling asleep almost instantly. Opening your eyes, you decide the frustration of being in bed awake isn’t going to help you find sleep anytime soon. You slide out from under Tyson’s body weight as calmly as possible before grabbing the throw blanket and heading outside.

You close the sliding door quietly behind you, trying not to wake anyone in the house. You take a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air around you before glancing around the yard until your eyes land on the hammock towards the back of the yard, near the dropoff wall where the yard ends, and the lake starts. You lay down, staring up at the night sky, seeing the brightly lit full moon and the abundance of stars.

Moments pass before a soft ‘hey’ startles you and pulls you from your thoughts. Craning your neck backward, you see Tyson’s shirtless figure emerging in dark, the only light coming from the moon and the decorative lights on the fence.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologizes as he reaches you.

“Did I wake you up?” You ask in an apologetic tone, sitting up on the hammock, steadying yourself, so you’re not swinging too much. You scoot to the side, making room for Tyson to take a seat next to you.

“No, I had to go to the bathroom,” He answers smoothly as he settles next to you. “I was confused when I didn’t see you, so I thought I’d come to find you.”

“I know you’re lying,” you smile, settling back onto your back, so you’re lying next to him. “You avoided looking at me when you said that.”

“Ah, you caught me,” He jokes, moving his arm to wrap around your shoulders. You graciously accept the movement and rest your head on his bicep, using the toned muscles as a sort of pillow. “When you opened the bedroom door, it woke me up, but it’s all good, I promise.”

“Good,” you whisper, turning your eyes back towards the sky.

“You wanna talk about why you couldn’t sleep?” Tyson asks, breaking the silence.

“It wasn’t really anything. I just couldn’t sleep, so I was getting annoyed with being in bed. Also,” You turn your head to look up at Tyson’s face. “I was getting really hot, and you were honestly sweating so much, so that didn’t help, and it was kind of gross.”

Tyson pulls his head back, putting space between the two of you so he can look more clearly at your face, “When did you get so rude?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my best friend is this NHL player that chirps everyone he knows, so I’ve learned a thing or two,” You quip back without missing a beat.

“This guy sounds like a charmer, eh?”

You laugh at his statement, obviously fishing for some sort of compliment. You don’t give it to him, and he pulls you tighter into him. You twist onto your side, resting your head on his shoulder and placing your hand on his warm chest. You sigh out a heavy breath, closing your eyes momentarily.

“You were right, you know,” you breathe out, opening your eyes and focusing on your surroundings. The ruralness of the lake and the city surrounding it makes for a darker night atmosphere than you’re used to. You don’t mind, though, being able to see miles into the distance due to the clean air and being able to see more stars in the night sky than you could imagine.

“About what?” He asks, and to your surprise, he avoids the opportunity for a chirp.

“This place is beautiful, magical even.”

You think back to that one night over a year ago where the two of you drove out to the mountainside just outside of Denver, a night similar to the one you’re currently having. You hadn’t touched more on the topic of soulmates that often after, only talking about it when someone close to either of you had their soulmark appear. It seems like a lot’s changed since then. Jack had moved to Denver to be with Caitlyn, Gabe got married, Kerfy had finally gotten his long-awaited soulmark right before being traded with Tyson to Toronto, and Tucker had gotten his. With how close you were to Tyson, for some odd reason, the topic didn’t come up in conversation when it regarded yours or his soulmate. Part of you thought that after the situation with Aiden, Tyson just didn’t want to step on your toes when it came to your dating life.

“Have you thought about your soulmate at all since that time a year ago when we last talked about it?” You ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

He moves your head off of his chest, leaning upon his elbows. “You wanna go down to the water?”

You nod your head, stretching your arms above your head before standing to your feet. You leave the blanket on the hammock and follow Tyson the short walk down to the edge of the dock. He leans against the railing of the walkway, and you lean on the one opposite of him.

“I’ve kinda thought about it,” He starts, crossing his arms over his chest. “My soulmate.”

You raise your eyebrows in question, your stomach slightly churning at the thought.

“Not like who it is specifically, but just like, life when it does or doesn’t happen, I guess.” He shrugs his shoulders, crossing his ankles. “I haven’t really talked about it, but I’m pretty scared I’m not gonna find mine.”

His statement shocks you, and you tense your upper-body. This moment of vulnerability, moments you tend to be having more often than not with him, makes your heart double in size. How could the man in front of you genuinely think he may not have a soulmate? Sure, he wasn’t actively dating due to his intense focus on hockey, but he was one of the purest souls you’d ever met.

“Tyson Jost,” you start softly yet firmly, taking a step towards him. “You can’t possibly think there isn’t someone out there for you.”

Tyson huffs out a heavy breath, not sure how to accurately articulate his thoughts. You can see his eyes flick around from his feet out to the water. “It’s not that. I’m just so all over the place it’s hard to believe I’ll find her. When I’m in Denver, I’m not even there all the time, and when I’m up here during the summer, I’m in two different provinces between being with my family and training.”

“I think it just depends on how you look at it, ya know?” You start, treading lightly. “Like for me, I just think that the universe has a plan and that it puts people in my life at certain times for a reason. If that means I’ve met my soulmate and I don’t know it? Then oh well, I’ll figure it out soon enough.”

He took in your words, sticking his tongue out and wetting his lips as you spoke.

“You’re only 21 and you haven’t even hit the prime of your career. It’s gonna take some time, you can’t expect to just wake up one day and have your soulmark,” You continue. “Besides, wouldn’t you want to spend time falling for her instead of just being an out of nowhere thing?”

“I guess it’s just hard sometimes,” He mutters through a frown. “On the one hand, I see so many of my friends getting theirs already and on the other, I’ve seen a few where it didn’t work out in the end. What if the universe messes up?”

“Then you trust your gut. At the end of the day, only you can tell yourself who you love.”

Silence falls around the two of you while Tyson lets your words sink in. You bite your lip, thinking about this whole scenario; how could your best friend even be thinking like this? He was a confident, good-looking, elite athlete, with a down-to-earth personality. In your eyes, those were qualities only a girl could dream of their soulmate possessing.

“You remember your birthday?” You let out softly, disrupting the silence around you.

“Yeah?” He answers with knitted eyebrows, confused as to why you’re bringing up an event that was almost six months ago. Your heart raced as you felt the thumping of it deep down in your stomach as you mustered up the courage to bring up this topic with Tyson.

“Do you remember how you told me you wanted to kiss me and then asking me if I’d let you?”

Tyson’s eyebrows unknit at the memory flashing through his head. He stops himself from cursing under his breath and lets out a heavy ‘yeah.’

“Well,” you start with a shaky breath, taking a few steps forward towards him. You take hold of his hands and play with his fingers in between your two bodies. “It’s my turn to ask if you’d let me kiss you.”

You look from where your hands are linked up to his face as you go quiet, looking up through your eyelashes to try and read his mind.

“Is that even a question? You don’t even have to ask, fuck,” He answers, letting go of one of your hands to push his hand through his curls. “Of course, I’d let you kiss me.” Silence falls between the two of you momentarily as you gaze at each other before he’s grabbing your hips and pushing you across the small walkway of the dock until your lower back hits the opposite railing.

The stillness of the night sky around you brings your heartbeat back to a calming pace. You lift your hand to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb along the stubble that he’s left unshaved for the time being as you look into his eyes. He keeps one hand on your hip as he slides the other one up until it’s splayed against the side of your neck. You let out one more breath before he’s leaning down to bring his lips to yours.

Your calm heartbeat disappears almost as quickly as it came as his lips move along yours with ease. Your heart is pounding inside your chest, and your stomach is fluttering as you move your hand to run your fingers along with the short hair on the back of his scalp. The hand that’s resting on your hip moves to the other side of your face, fully cupping both cheeks in his hands.

As you run out of breath, you pull away, leaving a few mere inches between your faces as the two of you lock eyes. You’re breathless as you gaze up at him doe-eyed, the knots in your stomach tightening more when you lock eyes with Tyson. When your eyes meet, his soft facial expression turns to one with a smile that fills his face with glee, and he lets out a small giggle.

You pull him down to you once more with your hand, pulling his lips to yours. This time, it’s all teeth as the two of you can’t stop smiling long enough to kiss properly.

“Why did it take us so long to do that?” He whispers against your lips. You shrug your shoulders, not ready to fully answer the question, and lean in one more time to leave a quick kiss before you’re pulling away and tucking your head into his chest. Tyson rubs your back as you breathe his scent in; it’s a mix of lake water, leftover sunscreen from the day, and sweat from his sleep. The two of you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms for a few more minutes before you slightly pull away to yawn.

Tyson pulls away at your movements, keeping his hands on your back as he leans back down to brush his nose against yours. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

You lean up to place your lips on his for a few more seconds, pulling away slowly with a soft smile. He pulls you into his side and walks you back into your shared room for the week. The two of you didn’t find sleep as easily as one would’ve thought with your previous yawning. The night consisted of the two of shushing each other’s giggles in between quick, stolen kisses before you finally gave him a stern look saying it was the last kiss and falling asleep.

The next morning came quickly. Your eyes opened reluctantly, your mind feeling like it only got fifteen minutes of sleep. Tyson’s sleeping figure is still next to you for a change, and you gaze over at him, a smile forming at your lips. He’s got a few curls dangling over his forehead, and his cheeks are tinted pink from the excess of the sun the past few days.

You lightly scratch the side of his ribs for a few minutes before his face is scrunching, and his eyes are opening, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he smiles, pulling you into his front with the arm that’s draped over your side. He places a kiss atop your forehead and rests his chin there. “I was thinking we could go into town today? Just us two.”

You ponder the idea for a moment, continuing to scratch lightly at his side, “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

He pulls back and rolls over so he’s on his back and you lean upon your elbows over him. You look into his brown eyes, flecks of gold shining from the sunlight creeping through the curtains. His already pink cheeks turn a shade redder from your stare, and you bring a hand up to brush the few stray, floppy curls back over his head.

“We can get brunch at this place that’s on the lake,” he suggests, bringing his hand to rub over your bicep before tangling his fingers with yours. “It’s, like, 15 minutes down the road.”

“I’ll just get dressed and do my make-up, and I’ll be all good to go,” you smile.

“Perfect.”

An hour or so later, Tyson’s showered and dressed in a casual, white, long sleeve shirt and a pair of grey chino shorts. He’s sitting upright in bed, scrolling on his phone as he waits for you to come back from the bathroom dressed. You step into the room, heading straight for your bag to grab your sandals, and you sit down on the bed next to Tyson to put them on.

He watches as you, doe-eyed, as you stand back up to fix your denim skirt and strappy satin tank combination.

“You look really nice,” he compliments you as you turn back around, about to tell him you’re ready to go. Your cheeks heat up as you give him a tight-lipped smile and thank him.

The drive to the restaurant is quiet, full of the two of you bickering about what song to play and telling him you want the air conditioner on rather than the windows down, so your hair doesn’t get too messed up.

The two of you sit at a table outside, one closer to the railing that blocks off the edge of the patio. Even with all the one-on-one time you’ve spent with Tyson over the years, you can’t help but let your mind wander through anxious thoughts as you look over the menu.

You both order mimosas, and when you finally decide on getting french toast and set your menu down on the table, Tyson’s already staring right back at you.

“What?” You ask, a smile forming and a giggle escaping from your mouth.

“Nothing,” He shakes his head with a smile. “Nothing.”

It’s a bit awkward at first for you; you’re not quite sure what this brunch really is. It feels much different than any other time you’ve hung out with him, and you struggle to start a conversation. It feels like an extra weight on your shoulders, something you haven’t felt around him since the first few times you met him those few years ago.

Brunch passes by quickly, even though when you check the time on your phone, more than two hours have passed since you left the cabin this morning. Tyson picks up the check before you can even reach your hand out to grab it. You open your mouth to argue, but Tyson silently stops you, a stern look on his face with his eyebrows raised. He even declines your offer to pay for the tip. As you guys leave, he suggests going for a walk down the main street for a bit before heading back.

A block or two of you mostly oohing and aahing at the cute shops passes by, your hands brushing at your sides every so often. Tyson finally bites the bullet and grabs your hand, giving you a small smile when you look up at him. You return the smile, offering his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Have you found a new place yet in Denver?” You ask, regarding the dismantlement of the Rooke House since Kerfy got traded last month. “I know you still have a bit but have you narrowed it down at all?”

“Uh, kinda, I think so,” He answers. “It’s kinda hard because I can’t go see them, so I’m doing it purely based on pictures and what my real estate agent says.”

“If you want, I could always tour places with your agent?” You suggest, more with a questioning tone. “I can facetime you or something and give you my opinion and stuff.”

“Yeah, that’s actually a great idea!” Tyson exclaims. “We can figure it out a little more when you’re getting ready to go back to Denver. So far, I think I’m leaning towards Cherry Creek if you know where that is.”

“Yeah! That’s an amazing place from what I know. I think a few people I work with actually live there.”

“A few of the younger, single guys live around that area, too,” Tyson responds, swinging your hands between the two of you. Your stomach tightens slightly at the mention of the word ‘single,’ not too sure how you feel about that. The conversation dies down once again, and you continue walking until you hit the water.

You pull off your sandals once you hit the sand, and Tyson takes the pair of shoes from you without hesitation. Once your feet hit the edge of the water, Tyson’s pulling your back into his front, draping his arms over your shoulders. You turn your head, so your cheek is pressed against his forearm, breathing in a long breath.

Being able to be around Tyson during this time of the year was beautiful, relaxing even. It was a nice change to the normal pace of the NHL season when he was in Denver. You got to see a different side of him than you usually did, the side of him that was more relaxed and carefree. A side of him, you could get used to being around for years to come, you thought.

You turn your head further, so you’re entirely looking at him. You look up into his eyes before closing your own and leaning up to press your lips on his. Your lips move in sync for a brief moment before you remember where you are, and you pull away shyly.

He places a kiss atop of your forehead once you’ve pulled away, and you can feel him smile against your skin. “I’m not sure I can stop kissing you now that I know what it feels like.”

You chuckle lightly, pulling away from him, so you’re standing shoulder to shoulder. The back of your arm itches, and Tyson wraps his arm around your waist, squeezing your side gently. You shriek, playfully slapping at his hand before he pulls you so you’re side-stepped in front of him.

You hold onto his forearms before speaking, “It’s okay because I’m pretty sure I want you to keep doing that.”

Your stomach twists at your admission, Tyson, and you have a matching expression of joy and glee as he pulls you further into the water. You’re shocked at the temperature when the water crawls over your toes, and Tyson laughs. He pulls you in as a tiny wave crashes around your calves and grabs your face.

He leans in, leaving centimeters between your lips, “Good because I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.” You smile, your heart fluttering, and doubling in size before closing the gap between the two of you.

A vibration against Tyson’s thigh pulls him away, and he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, “Hey, Kace, what’s up?”

“I know you’re on a date with y/n, but I have to go to the airport in an hour and a half,” you hear the voice on the other line. He grabs one of your hands with his hand that’s holding your sandals and tugs you towards the beach. You smile to yourself at the word ‘date’ and wonder if that’s just what this was and if that’s why you felt all that extra pressure at the restaurant.

He had never explicitly used the word to describe what you two were doing this morning, but it makes sense when you think about it. It was his idea, and it was just the two of you instead of the whole group, he drove and paid, you were both dressed nicer than you had been all week, plus the hand-holding and kissing. Your train of thought must’ve gone longer than you thought because suddenly Tyson’s off the phone and talking to you. Even on the drive home, the two of you are holding hands over the middle console.

The remaining few days you spent in Kelowna consisted of just that. Quick stolen kisses when no one was looking and making out like teenagers when you finally had alone time. It was kissing each other goodnight and kissing each other good morning before spending the day with everyone as nothing had changed between the two of you. It was clearly feeling new things both in your heart and in your head for the other person, but neither of you decides to have a conversation about what it all meant.

tag list: @reavenedges-lies @oilers2997 @quinnsbxtch (let me know if you wanted to be added!)

#alex writes #ybtmastm fic #tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #nhl imagine

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years ago

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a simple romance — tsukishima kei

1.5k words | genre/s: fluff, 80s!au | warning/s: — | pairing: tsukishima x fem!reader

↪︎ in which you and tsukishima celebrate a simple anniversary for your simple romance

a/n: kinda plotless and just mindless word throw up because im a homeless romantic who’s whipped for tsukishima, plus it’s my 500 follower special ✋🏻😌

you and tsukishima always had quite the simple romance. the only factor that was not exactly simple was that it was tsukishima who confessed first one september day. it was early in the morning the moment the sky bled its onyx night sky into an orangey-dawn.

you had barely left the safe confines of your home when the tall blond that waited outside your door in the crisp autumn air had nonchalantly confessed. usually it was him and yamaguchi waiting for you, but you figured he made his best friend walk ahead in order to be alone with you.

it was quite surprising, really. you assumed that all you were to tsukishima was nothing but a friend, someone so annoyingly bearable that he only let you stick around because you made him bentos once in a while. and in a surprising turn of events, you accepted his feelings and the two of you have been dating primarily on the low.

having your relationship known wasn’t exactly your main priority and neither was tsukishima’s. especially considering that if his volleyball team found out, they wouldn’t leave you alone for a second without bombarding you about why you would end up with someone as salty as him. the funny thing was that you often asked yourself that as well, but with how simple your romance was, there was nothing more to answer that question besides the fact you liked being with him. so you digress.

granted, since your relationship was more or less a secret besides only yamaguchi being aware of this fact, you and tsukishima often had to see each other in away from the sight of others. most of the time is was behind closed doors, but sometimes, sometimes, very early in the mornings you two would have a sweet rendezvous somewhere behind the gym before spending the rest of the hours before school starts on the field.

with you being a member of the track team and tsukishima being in the volleyball club, the field seemed like the only plausible reason why the two of you would be there. every friday morning you two would come early just to run around the track with the cool morning breeze and the tweets of songbirds tweeted among the peaceful silence.

you and tsukishima walked upon school grounds with water bottles in hand and your walkmans in the other. you had recently gotten a new one for your birthday, the latest 1984 Sony Walkman that was progressively better in sound quality than your boyfriend’s old 1982 model, to which he stated, “how much better can it be when your music taste is trash?”

you rolled your eyes and ran ahead of him. he gets quite annoyed when you do that as he isn’t necessarily the fastest runner. the only reasons why he does these morning runs is to be with you, so you ditching made him put on that cute pout you can’t resist. besides, you would reward him with a heated make out session behind the gym or the storage closet in return.

ten laps around the track was all you two ran, occasionally making small talk on the most existential topics on whether or not aliens exist or the stupid hypothetical questions about a zombie apocalypse—to which tsukishima would tease you and say he would feed you to the zombies. but it wasn’t to say that sometimes waves of comfortable silence wouldn’t fall upon you two. you concluded that no matter what, you would always find yourself in this type of tranquil silence with tsukishima. you had even forgotten your boyfriend’s stares of admiration, rather, you didn’t actually know if his gazes were of malice, indifference, or adoration, but whatever it was you hoped it was something good.

despite dating for a year now, you still couldn’t tell the difference, but you knew deep inside your gut that was accompanied by the same butterflies that all he means is nothing but love. and you wished to show that love as today was your anniversary.

and to which tsukishima thought you couldn’t get more breathtaking than the last time you had been at each other’s companies just yesterday, it seemed he had been proven wrong. you were teeth stark against the moonlight, divulged in night torn howls of winds and slick with honor. even at your worst, with skin frayed with abrasions and scrapped knees, tsukishima still found light within your fondness. and right now, you were filled with ichor of charming homemade raptures. your boyfriend couldn’t fathom how beguiled he was for a girl he hadn’t thought of more than an add on to his friendship with yamaguchi.

after your run, you two found yourselves resting upon the bleachers near the baseball field. you rested your legs atop tsukishima’s as he fiddled with your walkman. your headphones were now rested over your boyfriend’s ears as he listened to your curated mixtape of songs you specifically listened to on your runs with tsukishima. the songs that you burned on it were special to you and him and to you and him only. the songs that reminded you two of your first date during the night when you breathed out against the late night’s mist, inhaling the stars as you and tsukishima walked hand in hand through the city—of his quips of banter, his wisecracks of pleasantries, even his annoyingly amiable witticisms that would often put you in your place of not being as clever as your boyfriend—had a special place in your heart.

your gaze, warm in admiration as you looked upon his handsome features, took him in like a breath of fresh air. he was bobbing his head lightly to the music. it made a smile melt upon your face as your thoughts were scattered by the wind (a mere light breeze) as you exhaled your silk promises. your bare knuckles grazed over his as your hand lifted to his face, running your hand through his messy blond hair.

within seconds, the mixtape clicked to an end to which tskushima kissed your palm messing at his hair as he sat up. “this is actually good,” he mutters. “perhaps your music taste isn’t as bad as i remembered.”

“that’s funny considering most of my past music taste was from you.” you jested with a smirk on your lips.

he scoffs playfully, pecking your lips quickly. “yeah right, the majority of your mixtapes were nothing but queen and abba.”

“please tell me you’re not trashing queen and abba,” you rolled your eyes and feigning offense, “they’re literally iconic.”

“if you added some mötley crüe or tears of fears, maybe it would be better.” tsukishima smirks, making you huff. “but it’s fine as since it is our anniversary today, i figured i would be nice.”

“do you want to give our gifts now?”

tsukishima nods as he smiles, “so i can listen to it throughout the day.”

your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, “how’d you know i was going to give you a mixtape?”

“mere intuition,” your boyfriend jokes, causing you to shake your head as you reached into your backpack’s front pocket. “i actually burned you one too.” tsukishima did the same as the two of you faced each other once more with mixtapes in both your hands.

your fingers brushed each others briefly as you two traded gifts. and despite contact between the two of you hadn’t been scarce, there was still that same spark and radiating warmth that would consume you two.

both had cute notes attached to it as you had both read it.

FOR MY LOVE: the first mixtape of yours that isn’t complete rubbish and the first mixtape given to you for your new 1984 Sony Walkman that you won’t stop talking about. i don’t have to worry about you liking these songs because i know you will since i know you so well. i’ve also come to notice that you like to mix severely opposite genres on one tape i.e fleetwood mac and metallica like an absolute monster. so i did that on this tape for your sake. i love you, idiot. —tsukishima kei

FOR MY BLONDIE: even though you hate listening to mainstream music, i couldn’t help but put on the latest from michael jackson, madonna, and some city pop because who else would i scream these songs until my throat is raw with? but besides that, i added some more of your favorites like twisted sister. i can’t wait for you to make fun of this mixtape because i know deep down it’s going to be one of your favorites because it came from me. i love you, dickhead. — l/n y/n

you two sit in silence for bit, doing nothing more but being in each other’s presence and embrace. letting the world before you continue to move as you looked at the tape’s songs. you were immediately struck with the feeling of the nostalgic nights with tsukishima, laughing in the dark at two in the morning of messing around and reassuring pats on the back. you two were quilted blankets and moonless nights, of warm sunspots on a cloudy day, and cherry blossom petals falling upon your hair without noticing. you were tsukishima’s cure to boredom and lack of sleep. you two were each other’s everything.

it was your simple romance.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima kei #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu oneshot #tsukishima oneshot #hq tsukishima

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spaceskam · 4 years ago

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i got a little time

a slightly last minute day 4 of @malexweek: free day! companion piece to my story in some other life! It’s not necessary to read that one first to understand this one since it takes place in the same time frame

warnings: mentions of torture, mentions of death, ptsd, childhood trauma, basically just proceed with caution

ao3

Alex knew a lot of things.

He was admittedly smart and open-minded. He tried his best to be logical and kind and fair. Granted, that kindness hadn’t really been extended to Michael Guerin lately, but he deserved it. Alex had no regrets pushing him away because he deserved it.

However, as his phone went off and he read the text Michael had sent out, his stomach dropped to the floor.

From: Michael

Hi. Sorry for the group message. Basically I'm leaving tonight. You probably won't see me again and if you do then I've failed. I didn't want to go without saying goodbye, but I also didn't want to freak you all out today when I came to see you. I know I've let you all down and I hope what I'm doing makes up for it. Thank you for being around me even though you don't like me. I'm sorry for all my fuck ups and for hurting you and for generally being a bad person. I hope it's better in another life. Love, Michael

Alex read over the message at least ten times, trying to make sense of it. His mind immediately jumped to the worst case scenario, but he couldn’t tell if he was just projecting or not. Either way, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore it under a good conscience. Especially when other people in the groupchat were asking what he meant and receiving no response.

“Hey, I gotta go,” Alex said to his date, the name of whom escaped him in favor of trying to make sense of what was going on with Michael. He didn’t wait for acknowledgement before he went to his car.

Alex threw caution to the wind, speeding to the junkyard. The more he thought, the faster he drove. He was buzzing with worry. What if Michael was leaving the planet in that stupid spaceship? Or, worse, what if Michael was leaving in a much more permanent way? Gone. Full stop.

He pulled up to the airstream at the same time as Isobel, both of them haphazardly parking and getting out of their respective cars as quickly as possible. The trailer was moved and exposing the manhole in the ground and all that did was make it more nerve-wracking. They shared a look and immediately went to pry it open.

Everything around them seemed eerily quiet. All the sounds that came with being outside seemed to be gone. No creaking, no wind, no nothing. All dead.

“I can’t feel him,” Isobel told him, her words soft and desperate. He spared her a look for a couple seconds before he just pried open the hole with all the strength he could muster.

It opened and, again, more eerie silence. Alex went down the ladder first, moving faster than he should. Working a ladder with one leg was still difficult, but this was Michael. Michael, the love of his life and who had been torturing. What if he went too far?

Alex hit the ground and Isobel did within the next second, having chosen to jump down. They both immediately noticed the giant arch that hadn’t been there the last time they were down there.

“Michael?” Isobel called softly as they slowly made their way around the bench. The arch was humming with electricity still and the place around them looked like it’d been ransacked. Michael was always messy minded, but this was a different level.

Which is when they spotted him laying on the ground unconscious.

“Michael!” Isobel said, immediately dropping to his side and tapping his cheeks. Something was stopping Alex from doing the same. It took him a second to realize what exactly kept him from doing that, but, once he noticed, he couldn’t not notice.

His hair was noticeably shorter, the curls tighter and only seeming to be disturbed by him falling to the ground. His clothes were different, a button-up shirt that was buttoned up all the way up and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows along with tighter jeans than the man he knew would ever wear. His body was even different, much slimmer in every way including his shoulders being at least a couple inches less broad. He looked like Michael, but he… wasn’t.

“Isobel,” Alex said cautiously, his eyes staying on the unconscious body, “That’s not Michael.”

“What?” she scoffed.

“Just look at it,” Alex whispered, “That’s not Michael.”

A terrified little gasp racked through her body and she covered her hand over her mouth as it seemed to click that it really wasn’t Michael. Alex started to look around, looking for something that might give him a clue for what the hell was going on.

The whole table was covered in nonsensical math and writing, everything disjointed. He had lined paper, but it seemed he disregarded them completely. Alex started to gather them in one stack so he could bring it all back with him so he could study it when he spotted one page in particular. It had ‘ALEX’ written across the top in unmistakable letters.

ALEX

If you’re reading this, then I’m probably gone. Which is good, I think. Good for you, good because you deserve not to have me ruining all the good things in your life. I’m only writing this because I needed to get some things off my chest and it didn’t really suffice in a text. So here it is.

I love you. More than anything in the world. All of the bullshit I’ve done and the mistakes I’ve made, I never stopped loving you. You’re the reason I made it this far in the first place I think. Every time I got too sad or things felt like too much or getting out of bed seemed impossible, thinking of you always made it a little easier. You’re my home and you give me hope and that scares the shit out of me, but it’s true. And it’s okay that I’m not the same to you. I don’t need to be.

I could sit here and write a whole five pages on how beautiful you are, but you know that I think that. You know that I’m convinced you could stop traffic. It seems a little unimportant to mention something as small as physical beauty, but you’re gorgeous. Every single little thing about you. Name something about you and I worship it.

Every song on the radio is about you. The sky rains for you and the sun shines for you. The world turns for you.

I think I might be insane.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I LOVE YOU. Today, yesterday, tomorrow, always. I’ll treat you better in a different lifetime.

Love, Michael

Alex took a deep breath as he looked over it a couple more times. His stomach was churning and he felt sick. What the hell did he do?

The not-quite Michael on the ground groaned, stealing Alex’s attention and reminding him what was going on. He folded up the note and shoved it in his pocket as he turned to help Isobel with whoever this was.

He slowly lifted his head and looked around. He was dazed and trying to piece it together. However, he seemed to wake up and he sat up straight, panic evident on his face.

“Did I do it? Where am I? There’s people here,” the Other Michael murmured to himself, checking himself for wounds. His chin was bowed to his chest and he kept talking to himself, kept asking himself questions, kept ignoring that he could ask the other people in the room. “Black boots, they didn’t have black boots. Jeans, they didn’t wear jeans. I’m not there, where am I?”

“Michael?” Isobel said. Alex wanted to reach out to her and pull her back so they could have this conversation in a more efficient way after they figured out what was going on, but that didn’t seem plausible.

The Other Michael froze at the sound of her voice and he slowly lifted his head. His eyes were bulging out of his head as he looked up at Isobel. He looked over her a few times.

“You’re Isobel?” he asked cautiously. She nodded slowly. Then he lunged forward to hug her, clinging onto her desperately. Isobel’s eyes drifted up to Alex’s, trying to figure out what to do. But, honestly, he didn’t know. He was way out of his fucking depth. “I could do it, I knew I could do it.”

“Do what?” Isobel whispered, eyes still locked on Alex in her fear and confusion.

“Fix it, save you,” he said, pulling away slightly, “Where’s Max?”

“Uh,” she said. Alex decided it was time to step in and figure out what to do.

“What exactly do you mean by save?” Alex asked. Michael turned his head to face him as if just remembering he was there and he looked Alex up and down. His entire face flushed a shade of red his Michael never did.

“I know him?” he whispered to himself before adding an “I know you?” a little louder. Alex nodded and his face got an even darker shade of red.

“Can you explain what you mean by save?” Alex repeated. Michael blinked a few times before he nodded.

“Right. So,” he said, looking around and taking every detail in. Alex could see the gears in his mind turning as he catalogued things in his mind. He was actually thinking before he spoke. That was new. “Okay, I think I must’ve miscalculated because of your ages. I didn’t go back in time. Or, if I did, I don’t remember it, but I would’ve remembered it, so I think I’m elsewhere. Are those notes?” He got to his feet easily and Alex noticed that he was at least an inch or two shorter than his Michael. He was clearly a grown man, but he was so small.

Michael sorted through the pages, his head moving slightly with his eyes as he read them impossibly fast. Isobel stood up and went to Alex’s side, taking ahold of his arm as a way to steady herself. Michael stopped his reading by tapping the table.

“Right. So, I know what happened. I was working on creating a time machine and so was he. I don’t think either of us were actually that wrong. By the looks of it, it should’ve worked quite well. I think the problem lies in the fact that we happened to do it at the exact same time in our respective timelines and it created a weird twist and we swapped places instead. The only way to fix it is to, again, do it at the same exact time. It’ll be a little hard to do on purpose, but I think we can manage,” Michael rambled, looking up at them, “I know he’ll want to come back. Here seems much better.”

“Better?” Isobel asked, eying him, “What’s it like where you’re from?”

Alex wasn’t actually sure he wanted to know. Michael had asked if he knew him here. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime where he didn’t know Michael. As much as he was an asshole, that seemed impossible.

“Um, well, you’re not there,” he said simply, still tapping against the counter, “Neither is Max. Where is Max?”

“He’s,” Isobel said cautiously, looking to Alex before looking back to Michael, “He’s dead.”

Michael stopped tapping.

“Oh,” he said, tilting his head, “What happened? Was it the doctors?”

“The doctors?” Alex prodded. Michael went back to tapping. He seemed to be twisting in his skin. Alex had the undeniable urge to get him alone and learn all of his secrets. Apparently that needed didn’t go away no matter which version of Michael he was talking about.

“The doctors, the ones who found us after the crash? Kept us, trained us, pushed us. Pushed until… Well, doesn’t matter, I got out. Did we all get out here? You know, both of you are very accepting of the alternate universe thing, I’m surprised,” Michael rambled, refusing to let them fully comprehend what he was saying about anything.

“Things are weird here,” Isobel said, stepping closer, “Go back to the doctors.”

“And you, how do I know you? Are you still called Alex? You dress different here and you walk different,” Michael quizzed. Alex raised an eyebrow. So he didn’t know him where he was from, but he knew how he dressed and how he walked? Michael’s face turned red again and he looked away. Not like he was making eye contact in the first place.

Before they could make any sense of the rest of it‒or even make sense of what he’d already said‒there was more noise. Liz and Kyle and Maria appeared on the ladder, all rushing in response to that goddamn text.

But this Michael, smaller and different, immediately changed gears as more people appeared. Alex spotted the way he shrunk in on himself as Liz ran to hug him. He didn’t hug back or respond. His panic visibly grew before something went off behind his eyes and they unfocused. Alex clocked that immediately.

“Liz,” Alex said, putting a hand on her shoulder and gently pulled her off him. She looked confused as he did so, but she noticed Michael’s discomfort. “Isobel, take Michael to the airstream so he can calm down and fill him in on what it’s like here. I’ll tell them.”

Which would’ve worked, but the moment Isobel tried to pull him that way, he freaked out.

“No!” Michael said when she tried to pull him to the ladder, “No, no, I can’t, no.”

Isobel let go of his arm and he pulled away completely, backing himself into a wall. He put his hands on his head and he instantly started whispering to himself, counting and breathing as he sunk in on himself. It probably wasn’t helping that everyone was staring at him like he didn’t belong.

“Okay, new plan,” Alex sighed, “Everyone else up, Isobel stay with him here.”

“What do I do?” Isobel whisper-yelled at him as everyone started heading back up the ladder without argument.

“Just sit with him. I’ll get an air mattress down here, maybe we can get him to sleep and we’ll figure it out,” Alex told her softly, his eyes going to the boyish, terrified version of the man he loved despite it all, “We’re gonna figure it out.”

“Okay,” Isobel agreed. Alex squeezed her arm and headed up the ladder to fill Liz, Kyle, and Maria in on the little bit they knew.

That letter burned in his back pocket.

It took less than 24-hours (for Alex, at least) that, as charismatic as this Michael had seemed when he first woke up, that wasn’t actually who he was.

He was quiet, reserved, and anxious. He talked to himself more than he talked to other people and he shied away from basically all of them as soon as the initial adrenaline wore off. He seemed to need isolation and familiarity and this… Well, this was a lot of change. All of which would’ve been, but Alex had heard him mention he needed his medication. It was concerning to say the least.

Alex and Isobel had been taking shifts to check on him which was hell on his leg, but Alex was determined to watch over him if only because he needed the real Michael back for his own peace of mind. However, the only way they were going to get his Michael back, was if this one was working out the kinks in the machine. Something he couldn’t do if they sent him into a mental break by making him stop all his medication without weaning off of them.

“Do you know all the medication you take?” Alex asked as he came down the ladder. Michael looked up at him from the air mattress. His eyes were tired and he was curled up in a ball.

“Yes,” Michael said softly, “35mg of paroxetine, 25mg of lamotrigine, 2mg of clonzaepam, 50mg of‒”

“Write it down for me,” Alex said instead, “I’ll get it for you.”

“You will?” Michael asked, almost like he was surprised. Alex nodded and gave him one of Michael’s notebooks and pens to write it down. This Michael took it graciously.

His handwriting was noticeably different from the scratchy handwriting of his Michael. It was boxy and childlike despite the words being spelled perfectly. Alex wanted to pry so bad. He wanted to know everything.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what exactly do you take all that for?” Alex wondered. He was no stranger to a long list of medications, but the Michael he knew would never. He was sure he’d rather pout over a vat of acetone than follow anything a doctor prescribed.

“You name it, I’ve been diagnosed with it at least once by someone,” he said, glancing up at Alex before diverting his eyes again. He did that with everyone. “Right now, I’ve got PTSD, anxiety, depression, and a couple other things, but it all seems to boil down to those three things, so.”

“Me too,” Alex said. Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “Air Force Captain. PTSD basically comes with the job.”

“Air Force,” Michael said to himself, “What led to Air Force?”

“And your anxiety, is it primarily when it comes to people or were you just generally overwhelmed last night?” Alex wondered as he took the list. He planned to shop through his own medicine cabinet before taking it to Kyle to see what he could get his hands on.

“Um,” Michael said, rubbing over his face, “I-I guess all of the above? Humans are too much. They think so loud and there’s too much with them, you know?”

Alex did not know.

“It’s easier to stay by myself. That’s what I do at home, I stay by myself. I get coffee, I go to therapy, I go home. I work from home. I do things from home.”

“You said we think too loud,” Alex said cautiously, “Does that mean you’re strong enough to hear my thoughts?”

Michael looked up at him, making eye contact for the very first time and it hit Alex a little too hard. There was something so distinctly off about him and something told him it had nothing to do with all the things he’d just admitted.

“I am not strong. I’m weak. That’s the only reason I’m alive.”

Alex stared at him for a long while, trying to make sense of what exactly he meant by that. He had a feeling it was one hell of a story. His whole life was probably one hell of a story. That’s typically how one ends up with a medication list that long.

“Right. I’ll be back soon and I’ll pick up some food.”

Michael pulled the blanket back over his head.

“What are we supposed to do with him exactly?”

“Take care of him.”

“This is so fucking weird.”

Alex rubbed his eyes as everyone spoke around him. It’d been four days of still just rotating shifts of checking on the not-Michael, slowly watching as he got stabilized and adjusted. It was taking longer than he wanted, but he knew he was just being impatient.

Not-Michael was still being tight-lipped about what his life was actually like, but, considering the context clues, Alex was stressing that his Michael was in a very bad place. A place where they pick up little kids and spend their whole life torturing them to the point that they try to build a time machine.

But, then again, his Michael tried to build a time machine too.

“Well, I was talking with him last night,” Isobel said. She was handling it better than everyone and it had everything to do with Michael being completely obsessed with her existence. Every time Alex saw them, he was staring at her like she was made of diamonds. “He said he works as an technical engineering supervisor from home, like he works for the government and stuff. The guy is smart. Like, makes our Micheal look stupid, smart.”

“He talks to himself, though,” Liz pointed out, voice a little hushed, “Like more than normal. Shouldn’t we be a little concerned that he’s just a ticking time bomb?”

“I don’t know, there’s people at Sunset Mesa that talk to themselves like that and they’re not crazy. I think it just comes from isolation,” Maria suggested.

“It also could be a side effect of his heightened anxiety,” Kyle said.

“But don’t smart people talk to themselves? Maybe he’s just smart,” Isobel said, shrugging her shoulders.

“Or maybe he had a shitty childhood, worse than we can even imagine, and it’s a coping mechanism,” Alex said sternly, causing all of them to give him their attention, “Or it could be any number of things all mixed together, but it doesn’t matter. We aren’t going to sit here and speculate and gossip about him. We’re going to give him time to adjust to his medications, adjust to the new setting. We just have to be patient and not treat him like he’s weird or crazy. He’s still Michael, just… extremely different.”

“But shouldn’t we know what we’re dealing with?” Liz said.

“Listen, I’ve read over Michael’s notes over and over and they don’t make sense. I understand some of it and I’ve researched some of the math that was past my understanding, but some of it is nonsensical at best. This Michael is our only shot at getting ours back, so we’re going to be nice to him and we’re going to help him,” Alex explained simply.

“You know, for someone who was pretty anti-Michael before all of this, you sure seem really eager to get him back,” Isobel said. Alex didn’t give her any kind of reaction to that.

They slowly but surely shifted their conversation back onto other topics and Alex eventually announced that he would see them later before excusing himself for the night. Like he had been for the last few nights, he made his way to the airstream. Other Michael had no idea that the airstream even existed since he refused to leave the bunker and his Michael probably wouldn’t mind him taking over the space, so that’s what he did. It made him feel safer, closer.

He changed into his night clothes and sat on the edge of the bed to take off his prosthetic. He needed to wash his leg and the liner, but Alex felt frozen in place. His head was heavy and his heart was aching and he found himself doubling over with a pillow in his lap, inhaling Michael’s scent and trying not to start crying.

It was more than a little difficult to process everything. Although Michael had only been gone for a few days, it felt like a goddamn lifetime. Alex had been overwhelmed with guilt and, any moment he wasn’t purposely distracting himself, he felt sick with it. The moment his mind relaxed, he’d just be drowning in self-hatred and anger and he had to distract himself again. He was fucking miserable and he just wanted Michael back. The right one.

Again, he played over the months leading up to this disaster. Michael had hooked up with Maria and was painfully mean to Alex all the while to the point that, when it crashed and burned, Alex felt no guilt being mean back. He pushed and he pushed and, when he saw Michael self-isolating and punishing himself, he pushed harder. Hell, that night, he’d purposely rubbed his date in his face, purposely told him to fuck off when he tried to say goodbye. It felt like it was all his fault.

The worst part was this was beyond his expertise. When normal people left, they usually just left the city or the state, not the goddamn dimension. This wasn’t something Alex could just follow him and apologize. This wasn’t even like he was dead and forcing him to mourn. This was hell. Did Michael know what this would do to him?

Alex kept the pillow under his nose as he grabbed the note again that Michael had left for him. He basically had it memorized by now, but he liked looking at it. He liked knowing that Michael didn’t hate him for being a dick. He loved him.

His eyes scanned over the words once again before he couldn’t take the tightness in his chest, so he quickly double checked that he hadn’t yet detached his leg before he stood up and went to go down to the bunker. He needed something and this was the closest thing he was going to get.

The Other Michael was sitting at the big table, looking between Michael’s work and a fresh notebook as he transcribed everything in a more cohesive manner. That alone gave Alex a little bit of comfort. Just… not enough.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a little breathy and obviously stressed. The Other Michael looked up at him, but he avoided eye contact by focusing his eyes on Alex’s shoulder instead of his face. Which, fine, fair enough. “So, I hate to be so pushy, but can you tell me how you live over there? It’s driving me insane not knowing what he entered on his own and, no offense, but you being so heavily medicated just makes me nervous about how he’s doing. I just need to know he’s not, like, being tortured.”

The Other Michael was uncharacteristically silent for a moment and Alex forced himself to be patient. He didn’t want to push, but he just needed to know. Eventually, Michael swiveled in his little chair to show that he was giving him his full attention.

“I live in an apartment in Manhattan and I work from home. As long as he’s figured out what my job is and is keeping up my work, then he should be fine,” he said. Alex swallowed harshly and looked around the bunker to try to think of something.

“Then what’s so bad about being over there? Because you seemed pretty sure he’d want to come back,” Alex said. Michael started tapping against the table again, murmuring to himself softer than Alex could hear. He decided it wasn’t even his place to hear those thoughts.

“Um, here, there’s Isobel and you and… others,” Michael said, his face turning that deep shade of red it seemed to always be when he had to talk to him, “Over there, it’s very lonely.”

Alex nodded, swallowing as he looked around again to find something to say. It was weird being here without Michael, without him showing off. Everything was wrong without him here.

“I have another question,” Alex said, which was an understatement, really, because he had a million, “How do you know me if you don’t know Liz or Maria or Kyle? If you live in Manhattan and you’re alone all the time, how do you know me?”

Michael’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red and he looked down at the table. Alex didn’t know what he was expecting him to say, but a part of him was assuming the worst. Were those “doctors” he mentioned actually military people? Did he know Alex because he was the son of one of them? But, honestly, that didn’t make sense because, if he was, he probably wouldn’t trust to be alone with any version of him.

“Um,” Michael said, still tapping away, “You live up in Manhattan too. And, I mean, I don’t know you over there. You’re a barista that I see sometimes and I follow you on Instagram, but we’ve never had a conversation.”

Well that was certainly not what Alex was expecting.

“I’m a barista?” Alex asked, suddenly more interested in this weird other version of him than anything else. Michael smiled for the first time and it was nice to see that he was getting more comfortable.

“And, um,” he said, breathing out a soft breath of air as his cheeks continued to darken, “A go-go dancer.”

Alex huffed a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. He couldn’t picture himself like that. The whole idea was laughable at best. He wondered if his Michael had discovered that yet. Did he find it funny?

“That’s…” Alex said, huffing a laugh as he leaned against the wall, “Insane. But I guess that could be fun in another life.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed, still tapping. They were quiet for a moment again as Alex tried to picture it. “What, uh, what am I to you here? There you… Well, he would never give me the time of day if I tried.”

Alex smiled sadly to himself. He only had disappointing things to share. Somehow, that story of what could be sounded a lot more hopeful than Alex’s story of what could’ve been. They’d slaughtered their past, burned any chance of a future.

But, still, there was no point in lying.

“We’re in love,” Alex admitted and Michael nearly fell out of his chair. Alex snorted a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve been on and off since we were 17, he’s the love of my life.”

“I-I’m so sorry,” this Michael said, guilt on his face. But it wasn’t his fault. Well, not really, anyway.

“It’s okay,” he promised, “We weren’t together when all this happened. Kind of in a fight, I guess.”

“Well, I assumed. Not even a fool would leave you willingly,” he asked. It was Alex’s turn to feel his blood run a little hot and he raised an eyebrow.

“You should definitely try when you get home,” he said, “‘Cause you probably have a better shot than you think.”

Michael shook his head and looked back down to his notebook. Alex instantly started wondering if they were any closer to fixing that thing and getting back to normal, but he knew they probably weren’t. That’d be too easy, too quick. Alex was never lucky enough to get what he wanted in a timely manner.

“But, basically, he’s alone over there,” Alex said, shifting the subject back to the one that was important, “Is he safe from those doctors you mentioned?”

“Yes,” Michael said instantly, tone clipped, “They’re all dead.”

“Dead?”

Michael whispered to himself, knee bouncing and finger tapping. He was closing in on himself and it was clearly a touchy subject. But, the thing was, curiosity aside, he needed to know. He needed to know what kind of universe his Michael was going into. He needed to know if he was alone and facing a threat that Alex couldn’t protect him from. He didn’t know why exactly he needed to know that, but… he did.

“You don’t need to tell me all the details,” Alex said, stepping closer, “But I would really appreciate a little bit of a rundown of what happened to you over there. I know you’re not exactly like him, but he’s curious. He’s going to look into things.”

Michael kept tapping and he looked up to Alex before looking back down. Alex wasn’t sure if he was like his Michael or not, but he had to assume he had some things in common. So, in an attempt to comfort him like he would comfort his Michael, he reached out and touched his shoulder. His head snapped in his direction, but he didn’t pull away. So Alex squeezed and rubbed his hand over his shoulder.

“Tell me.”

“Isobel, Max, and I were found in the desert of Roswell, New Mexico after waking up out of our pods. Found by people camping, I think, I don’t remember. The next day, though, we were selected to be a part of a study that was publicized as a study for kids who had escaped from cults at young ages,” Michael said, letting out a little laugh. Alex rubbed over his back, all bones beneath his shirt. “We were the only subjects. I-I don’t really know all the details, they obviously wouldn’t tell us what they were doing or why, but they said we were aliens and they were there to train us. And train us they did.”

“But it was torture,” Alex guessed. Michael shrugged.

“Wasn’t all bad,” he admitted, “They just pushed so hard. It was too easy to break, fight back as we got stronger.”

“What happened when you fought back?” Alex asked quietly, his fingers reaching up into his hair. Michael’s eyes closed and he leaned into his touch. It was too familiar.

“Depends,” Michael said, “How violent you were equalled how bad it was. I threw a bowl of oatmeal at a nurse and got six weeks in solitary.”

“Jesus.”

“Isobel threw a doctor off the roof, killed him. She didn’t tell me what happened, but she had scars everywhere.”

“And Max?”

“Max,” Michael said, smiling sadly to himself as he seemed to think back, “Max let it fester.”

“Oh?”

Michael’s head was tilted almost all the way back into his palm, completely unraveling in his touch. It was strange and new all at once. Alex felt more powerful than he could articulate and he couldn’t let go. So he didn’t.

Still, Michael shook his head a little bit and his eyes opened.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“Then tell me this,” Alex whispered, tilting his head so that all this small, intelligent, deceivingly powerful version of man he loved could see was him, “What are you capable of?”

“You really wanna know?” Michael asked.

“Yes.”

In the blink of an eye, any wall in Alex’s mind that protected him from psychic evaluation was destroyed, a whirlwind of chaos entering his mind, grabbing him by the metaphorical collar, and yanking him into some place else. Once he got settled into that some place else, Alex realized it was the desert.

Except, not just any place in the desert.

Alex found himself standing in the middle of the crash site, the sand around his feet ever changing. He seemed to be reliving every moment of history that happened in that spot. Flashes of a shattered spaceship, of violence, of military conspiracies, of angered voices, of cold rain on his skin after getting high, of making love in the bed of a truck on hot summer nights, of feeling alone, of future moments that he wasn’t allowed to fully understand. It was overwhelming and Alex felt obscenely overstimulated, every nerve in his body screaming, but his mind, his mind told him he was at peace no matter how much his body disagreed.

In front of him stood Michael, not his Michael, but Michael nonetheless.

“This is only a little bit,” he said, his voice in his head and outside of it and everywhere and nowhere, “I’m not a psychic, I’m not an explosive, but I was trained to be both.”

“You’re a telekinetic,” Alex said and Michael nodded.

“I can use my mind to separate muscles from bones and white blood cells from red without moving,” he said, “And I hate it. I was trained and built to be a weapon. I refuse to be a weapon.”

“I don’t think you’re a weapon,” Alex assured him despite the fear he felt. It was hard to not feel fear when he wasn’t in control. But he would survive.

“You’re scared of me,” Michael accused.

“No, not of you,” Alex told him and he was being honest, “Thank you for showing me this.”

“I hate what I can do,” Michael said, “I hate this. I hate being a weapon.”

Alex, despite his fear, stepped closer to him. He walked better here than in reality. He put his hand on his shoulder and slid it up into his hair. Was this manipulation? If it was, Michael knew and he didn’t mind, so Alex continued until he was holding him.

“Let me teach you not to hate it. Let’s use it for good. Let’s get my Michael back, okay?” he said. And this Michael nodded.

Soon, Alex was carefully put back into his own mind and they both unintentionally fell into each other, the mindscape draining them both for extremely different reasons. But Alex hugged him and he hugged him back.

They were much closer after that.

A few weeks later, things were agonizingly getting back to normal.

Liz went back to focusing on Max, Maria went back to focusing on the bar, Kyle went back to focusing on the hospital, Isobel went back to splitting her time with Max and Michael is allegedly even amounts. Alex was the only one that seemed to still be trying to fix this.

Well, Alex and Michael.

They spent most of the time in the bunker, considering Michael still refused to leave, and Alex was learning a lot about what could’ve been his Michael if things went different. He fluctuated between being completely silent to being really talkative and there seemed to be nothing that indicated which he would be. He’d be excited and loud one second and then, without warning, he’d shut down. Alex didn’t mind it.

They were rebuilding the portal from scratch basically. Other Michael’s theory was that his Michael fucked up the coding and accidentally created an alternate universe portal instead of a time machine and Other Michael created one that was applicable for both, so when they went in at the same time, it swapped them instead of going back in time. Alex could barely wrap his head around it, so he just took it as fact.

It was just slow and Alex only was getting a little bit of information at a time and he was becoming more and more interested in Other Michael’s past. He didn’t even want to know because of his Michael anymore, he was now just really fucking curious.

Context clues told him both Isobel and Max died before they were able to escape and Max died first, but he never told him how. Alex didn’t know how old he was when he got out or how he got out, just that they were cruel and he had to rely on Isobel and Max to stay sane. Alex didn’t know how all those doctors died, only that he went to therapy with the only doctor in the country who knew all of the details because he had been employed but left when he decided it was inhumane. He didn’t know how he got to Manhattan with a list of impressive credentials, only that he had a medicine cabinet that was obscene. He knew so little and he wanted to know everything.

“You know, if you ever want to leave the bunker for any reason, we can,” Alex said, “I know all the places in the town that people don’t go.”

Other Michael shrugged, tugging the blankets around him tighter as he whispered to himself. He did that on bad days. Alex had brought him more blankets when he asked for them and he cocooned himself in blankets and his own sweat. He said it put his mind at ease. To Alex, it seemed like some veiled attempt at replicating contact with another human. He was too awkward to actually offer despite their trip to his mindscape.

Isobel had shown him hers as a comparison and it was only when that happened that he realized just how much of a show off what Michael did was. She struggled even getting into his mind in the first place even when he was being open to her and, whenever she did get inside, she said it was literally impossible to coax him out. He was basically chained inside his brain. Michael was strong enough to break those shackles without any extra effort. It was impressive to say the least.

“Actually…” Michael said, voice small, “Tomorrow night, do you think you could bring me to see Max?”

“You want to see him?” Alex asked, perking up at the idea of getting him out and about. Michael nodded.

“I want to see the pod too. I haven’t seen one of them since, well, I came out of it,” he said, “Just not today.”

“Yeah, absolutely, we can go. You want me to ask Isobel to be there too?”

“If you could.”

“I can.”

By the time the next night rolled around, Alex gave him a little reassuring pep talk that they wouldn’t run into anyone. It was the middle of the night and he would be fine. A shoulder squeeze solidified their understanding and soon they were climbing up the ladder.

“Oh,” Michael said, “I… I didn’t realize we were beneath a junkyard.”

“Yeah, my Michael lives in that trailer,” Alex said. Michael nodded and took a deep breath. “Feel good to breathe fresh air?”

“Something like that.”

The drive out to the desert to get to where Max was was spent with nothing but the sound of his tires on the road and Michael murmuring to himself. Alex couldn’t tell if he talked to himself quieter when he took his medication or if Alex had just been so on edge when they first met that he seemed to be louder. It didn’t really matter, honestly.

They pulled up next to Isobel’s car. She was already standing outside of it, looking gorgeous for no reason as she waited for them and gave them that charming smile. She was doing good for a woman who had one dead brother and another brother who was stuck in an alternate dimension. Still, she hugged Other Michael like he was the real thing and Alex didn’t know who it benefited more.

Alex hung back for a moment as the kind of siblings walked in to see Max. Isobel had filled Other Michael in more on the logistics of his death before and how they were working on bringing him back to life. While Michael never offered to help, Alex had a suspicion that he probably could be extremely helpful. The problem was that he was scared of himself, of what he could do. All that did was cause Alex to have more questions.

He wanted to help Michael get more comfortable using his powers‒though maybe not as comfortable as his Michael was‒but it was easier said than done. He couldn’t be his therapist, but he could be his friend. So he just had to treat him nicely and hope he realized he wasn’t scary.

Alex leaned against the car and thought about his Michael for the billionth time. He was always on his mind, it was nothing new. Every day that past, it got a little more normal for him to be there and it hurt Alex each time. He was utterly terrified that he would never get him back. And, if he didn’t, what did that mean?

More importantly, if he did, what did that mean?

He missed him and regularly found himself dreaming about him, about them, only to wake up alone. Part of him was wondering if he should get used to this and try to find someone interesting to love. Another part wondered if he should settle for the version of Michael right in front of him who willingly melted into his hands.

Was that wrong?

Eventually, Alex pushed off the car and walked into the cave. Michael and Isobel were both zoned out as they stared at the pod Max was in from their spot sitting on the ground. He was pretty sure they were trying to reach Max in his mindscape to see if there was anything to salvage.

So Alex sat back and waited and wondered if this was the new normal.

“So, I know you’ve been rationing your meds.”

It’d been well over a month and Alex was ready to explode. Other Michael had apparently fixed the fucking portal, but he said they couldn’t try it yet because it wasn’t the right time. Alex was slowly beginning to think it never would be.

When he wasn’t in the bunker, he was with Max. He was still in the pod, but apparently his brain was working well enough that they could bring him into the mindscape. He was getting to know him that way and it seemed to make him feel better. Did it make Alex feel better? Absolutely not, but he was used to that by now.

Now, however, he was ready to be a little selfish and do something that was specifically to benefit him. And that meant learning more.

Michael looked up from the notebook he was always scribbling into and stood up a little straighter. Alex would never get over how strange his thin body looked in clothes that were baggy on even his Michael.

“So I got you something,” Alex said.

“Another prescription?” Michael asked. Alex huffed a laugh.

“Sorry, no, but,” Alex said, fishing the joint he’d taken off of Maria out of his pocket, “Maybe this will help?” Michael stared at it blankly, not a single ounce of recognition on his face. Alex laughed. “It’s a joint, you dork. Weed? Marijana? Satan’s gateway to your soul?”

A small smile formed on his face and it was infinitely more innocent than anything his Michael had ever done. Alex was charmed as always. There was just something about him that didn’t make sense. He was both horrifically tortured in his mind in ways no one could imagine while also being relentlessly innocent. It was fascinating.

“Can’t that make me worse?” Michael asked, focusing back on his notebook.

“I mean, possibly,” Alex said, taking a few steps closer, “But it helps a lot of people. Might help you.”

“What happens if I do react badly?” Michael wondered softly, almost like he could tell how close Alex had gotten to him. And, knowing him, he probably could. Alex bumped his shoulder into his.

“Then I’ll be right there,” Alex said. A deep blush rose to his cheeks like it always did and Alex couldn’t help the smile that took over his face.

Michael eventually dropped his pen and he followed him to the air mattress. They both sat down and Michael curled in on himself like always. Alex put the rolled joint between his lips and pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

“Wait!” Mciahel said. Alex looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Is it safe to do it in an enclosed space?”

“What, you’ve never heard of hotboxing?” Alex asked. Other Michael stared at him until he laughed. “Yes, it’s safe.”

He lit the joint and took a deep breath, trying to force it to calm him faster than he knew was logical. Michael watched him before taking it and trying to copy him. He coughed a few times and Alex laughed before showing him again. Eventually, he was able to take a hit without choking and they relaxed. It was strange to smoke with a different version of his Michael, but, then again, wasn’t everything strange with him?

“You doing okay?” Alex asked him. He nodded his head and Alex reminded himself to take the questions slow. He couldn’t jump right in with the prodding. “Good. My Michael thought he was so cool when we were young ‘cause he smoked.”

“From all the stories you’ve told, I can believe that.”

“Yeah,” Alex sighed, “I miss him.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said. Alex shook his head and took another hit.

“Don’t be,” he insisted, “But, uh, do you know exactly when it’ll be ready to go?”

“No,” Michael said. His guilt was obvious in his voice and on his face, but Alex still didn’t understand why. What were they fucking waiting for?

“You sure you’ll know when it’ll be time?” Alex asked as nicely as he could, “Like, what goes into the timing?”

Michael shrugged, “It’s a psychic feeling. I felt it when I came over the first time. It’s like things click because we’re mirroring each other. It’s like, uh, like Deja Vu, I guess, but a little different. I’ll just know because it’ll feel right.”

“Okay,” Alex sighed, “I trust you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Alex shook his head again. He did trust him. Granted, he didn’t really have a choice. Not trusting him meant not accepting his help. Alex took a deep breath as he tried to find a way to lead into the topic of his trauma.

“I just, I don’t know. He was with me through so much. So much bad shit has happened and I’ve had him through all of it, it’s hard to go through things without him, you know?” Alex said, tilting his head in Other Michael’s direction. His face got a little serious and he nodded, taking the world’s saddest hit from the joint.

“I know,” he whispered, resting his head against the wall, “I think about my Max and Isobel all the time. I wish I had them here with me.”

“Why didn’t they make it out with you anyway?” Alex asked casually. He knew why.

“Like I said, I’m weak,” Michael said, huffing a sad little laugh. Alex watched him, waiting for him to elaborate without being pushed. Eventually, he did. “Max was ridiculously strong and his specialty was electricity. We were almost 16 when he got in trouble again, he always got in trouble, and they, well, I don’t know what they did. I wasn’t there when they did it, but whatever it was set him off. He shut down the whole building we were in and I remember just hearing people screaming. One of the head doctors ran into the room I was in and grabbed me and we went into the panic room. We were in there for, like, three hours at least. When we came out, half the staff had been scorched to death, nothing left but ashes, and Max’s system had given out because of over use.”

“Jesus,” Alex breathed. Michael looked up, blinking away tears from his eyes and he swallowed hard.

“Isobel and I made a deal after that. We’d stick together. Be on our best behavior and wait for a way out,” Michael said definitively, nodding his head, “And we were. We kept getting stronger which they liked. Then they started letting us in on what the plans were. We were going to be military weapons. Who needs nuclear bombs when you can just introduce a pretty white girl to a foreign city and then have her single handedly annihilate all of them.” Michael shook his head and scoffed. “Neither of us bought into it, but it hurt to hear. Isobel got upset when we were 18 and said she refused which meant she got punished. But she fought back. I remember they dragged her away kicking and screaming and I just sat there and let them. I just… sat there and let them. I didn’t even try to help. She didn’t come back.”

“What do you mean she didn’t come back? What did they tell you happened to her?” Alex asked. Michael smiled sadly.

“They didn’t. If I asked, I got in trouble. If I said her name, I got punished. So I stopped saying her name,” Michael said. Alex started to feel really bad about trying to learn about this. “They started being really hard on me after that ‘cause I was the only one left.”

“How did you get away?” Alex asked softly.

“Told you, I’m weak,” he said, sighing and graciously taking the joint from Alex’s fingers, “I did what they said until someone else came in to help me. Dr. Wyatt snuck in to help me escape, but I was too scared. But he promised he’d help me, I just had to help him. He told me what to do. I just did the dirty work.” Michael moved his finger in a circle and tilted his head to the side as if to insinuate that he killed them all.

“Oh my God,” Alex breathed.

“But Dr. Wyatt put me through school and therapy and helped me get a job, got me out of New Mexico, made me a citizen because I wasn’t documented before,” Michael said, shrugging his shoulder, “So I deal. Even if I can’t talk to the gorgeous barista that has my order memorized.”

Alex tried to force a soft laugh even though his heart felt heavy with his admissions. It felt even heavier whenever Alex immediately started wondering what kind of testing they did on him. He was pretty sure he could keep those to himself, though.

On a happy note, though, this was more than Other Michael ever talked. Maybe he should get him high more often.

“Well, you’re talking to someone like him now,” Alex pointed out. Michael lulled his head to face him and, for the first time, made eye contact.

“I missed out on so much, though,” Michael said, “A childhood, social interaction, everything. I can’t go anywhere without thinking about it for days first or already knowing how it works. I eat the same things, I go to the same places, I do the same things. I got out of a prison, but I’m still so stuck in a routine that I can’t shake. You know I’m almost 29 and I’ve never even been kissed?”

Alex looked at every inch of his face, taking in every similarity and every difference from his Michael. He was so distinctly different. There was no confusing them for one another no matter how hard he tried.

“I can be your first kiss,” Alex offered. Michael’s face turned bright red and he looked away. “Seriously, I can. It’s not like it’d be weird. It would be more to, you know, get it out of the way with someone who has pretty much already kissed you.”

Michael swallowed and looked everywhere except Alex. Until he did.

“Okay.”

“And you’re sure?”

“Yeah.

Michael’s face was still red. Alex just grinned at him. This he could do. It wouldn’t fix all the bad things he dragged up, but it would be a happy little release at the end of the conversation. They both took one last hit off the joint before Alex stubbed it out and turned to the man in question. He reached up and put his hand on his cheek, feeling how he felt so hot it damn near burned his skin.

When Alex tried to press a kiss to his lips, he just met tense, overly puckered lips. He tried not to laugh as he sat there, hoping Michael would stop having his mouth like that. However, that didn’t happen and they both pulled away with a laugh.

“You need to relax,” Alex told him, laughing easily and using his thumb to rub all the tension out of his lips. Michael was so red he was probably about to pass out from lightheadedness.

“I wasn’t ready,” he laughed, lying through his teeth before he told the truth, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Don’t think about it too hard, just channel your inner Drew Barrymore and be kissable,” Alex told him. Michael’s eyes went comically wide.

“What does that even mean?”

“Oh my god, you’re so uncultured, we’re watching Never Been Kissed after this,” Alex said, scooting closer. Michael laughed genuinely for probably the first time ever and Alex took that as his sign. He closed the space between them again and it went a lot smoother that time since he was relaxed.

Alex led the way, but he took it slow and Michael followed at the same pace. Michael lifted his hand and gently gripped his arm, pulling him close. It definitely didn’t feel like his Michael. There was no big spark, no mind-numbing perfection, no desire to keep him there or his life would fall apart in his wake. But it wasn’t bad. It was like kissing a friend.

The kiss slowly ended and they stayed close. Alex was about to make a joke again, but Michael, surprising him for another time that night, spoke first.

“Can you help me with something?” Michael asked.

“You know I will.”

“Can you get me a dead car battery?”

Alex raised an eyebrow as he pulled away, but he couldn’t say no to his eager face so just said yes.

Within the next 24 hours, Alex found himself watching an impressive act. Michael used his hands as defibrillators. He didn’t scream like Max, he just focused and did it. When Max breathed his first breath of life again, Michael quickly turned his attention to the car battery. All of the negative energy that came from that was then transferred into something meant to hold electricity instead of letting it fester.

Alex didn’t have the words for how proud he was.

“Are you going to miss him when he’s gone?”

“Yeah, but I want the real Michael back.”

Alex dipped his fry into his milkshake, feeling extra tired. He’d been a little too okay recently. He and Other Michael were good friends and they talked a lot. Alex ended up telling him his life story out of guilt for prying out his and they bonded over their trauma. It was nice to have someone to talk to and who talked back and there was no pity.

But then it hit him that he was still very lonely and that note that was just a ton of I love yous still was beneath the pillow where he still slept in his ex-boyfriend’s bed after two goddamn months. So now he was sad and longing for Michael to be back even though he felt guilty for wanting to send Other Michael back to a place where he would be alone.

“What are you going to do when he comes back? Just act like you guys weren’t fighting before he left?” Isobel asked. Alex sighed slowly and shrugged his shoulders.

“No, we’re gonna talk. I’ve really learned how to talk recently,” Alex admitted. Isobel raised an eyebrow and he rolled his eyes. “I have.”

“With the Other Michael?”

“Yeah, with him,” he said, “Maybe that’s what he’s here for.”

“To teach you how to talk to another person?”

“Yes.”

Isobel just laughed to herself, but she didn’t argue. They both finished up their meal and started to head back to the bunker where Max already was. However, they were shocked when they got into the bunker and Michael looked at them with wild eyes.

“It’s time,” he said, “I can feel it, it’s time.”

And things moved too fast. Michael started turning knobs and Max and Isobel called Liz and Maria. It was all too fast, so fast Alex barely found time to grab Other Michael’s arm and stop him so they could talk.

“Are you gonna stop long enough to say goodbye?” Alex asked. Michael looked at him with wide eyes.

“But it’s time,” he said, “Aren’t you ready to get him back?”

“Yes,” Alex said honestly, “But you still have to say goodbye. I mean, we’ve spent two months together. Are you even ready to go home? Are you going to be okay?”

Michael gave a small smile and he nodded, eyes not quite on Alex’s but close enough.

“I’ll be okay,” he told him, “All I wanted was to see Max and Isobel again and I have. And this version of them is happier than the ones I would’ve met if I went back in my own timeline. So I think it was fate.”

“But aren’t you going to be lonely?” Alex asked. He didn’t know why he was asking. He didn’t know why it sounded like he didn’t want him to go. Michael just pulled him into a hug that Alex reciprocated easily.

“I think I’m finally gonna talk to that barista,” Michael said softly. Alex huffed a laugh and squeezed him.

“I hope it works out.”

“I know it will,” Michael insisted, “I’m meant for him like your Michael’s meant for you. I can feel it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’m a lot of things, but wrong is rarely one of them.”

With a laugh, Alex pulled away and did his best not to cry. He still wasn’t sure why he was so upset. It was just… so fast. And yet not fast enough.

Michael said his goodbyes and then, in the most unceremonious of fashions, stepped through the portal.

And another stepped back out.

Alex lunged forward to catch him, checking over his body for any sign that he was hurt and they clung to each other. It was unreal how much he could feel that it was his man just by the way his body felt against his. He missed him more than he had words for.

Very reluctantly Alex let everyone hug him too and, for the next few hours, just hovered close as they all caught up with him after only a few minutes alone. It wasn’t enough. He needed hours alone with him. Days. Weeks.

There was so much lost time and he was okay. He wasn’t taking this for granted again. He refused.

That night, they found themselves in the airstream and Michael immediately noticed that Alex had been staying there.

“That is weirdly romantic,” Michael, his Michael, said as he sat on the bed. Alex laughed and just reached out to touch his face. Michael leaned into it just like the Other Michael, but it felt different. It was different. This… this was cosmic.

“I love you,” Alex admitted.

“And I love you,” he said, tugging his hips down to his lap. Alex immediately kissed him and it felt like breathing again at the feeling of his lips. When they laid back, though, it was impossible to miss the crinkling of that note.

Michael reached for it and an embarrassed expression fell over his features as he realized what it was. Alex just took it and leaned in for another kiss. That note had kept him going for the last two months and he was going to treasure it. It was nothing to be embarrassed about.

“I’ve learned a thing or two since you left,” Alex said, “And one of them was all about talking through shit. Saw the other version of you do a lot of extraordinary things after talking through shit. So we’re going to do that, okay?”

“Okay,” Michael said, his tone telling him to continue.

“And in this note you said you’d treat me better in another life. Can’t it be this one?”

Michael stared up at him, something in his eyes that Alex couldn’t quite place. He hoped that he one day would be able to place it.

But, for right now, he was happy that he was home.

“It will be this one. But it’s you, Alex, it’s always been you.”

And, between him and the Other Michael, Alex knew it was the truth.

#malexweek20 #malex20 #malex fic #malex #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

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captainkirkk · 5 years ago

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(Submission by @firsttothedoor)

🌻(my god this got long) I read kyuuley’s comments on the fem Zuko post and NOW I can’t stop thinking about fem Zuko in the context of her family. I share the headcanon that the Fire Nation couldn’t give half a fuck about gender or sexuality, but does emphasize blood and class, so Zuko being a girl doesn’t change her status but does subtly change her relationships.

She’s even more intensely the apple of Ursa’s eye, this daughter who is so much like her. Ursa, the oldest royal family member who isn’t directly involved in the government or military, would likely be in charge of the household, and would teach that responsibility to Zuko, who struggles to balance it and the sudden weight of being Crown Princess after Ursa leaves.

Azula is her father’s perfect daughter, that never changes, but Zuko is so much like Ursa that Azula has the same unwanted yearning for her affection, which Zuko probably gives her more freely, actually. In canon, Zuko resembles his father, but here she’s a more even mix of her parents, and might wear her hair like her mother’s. Sometimes Azula feels sickly grateful for her sister’s scar, because it lets her make sure that’s not Ursa in front of her. On the other hand, to everyone except their father, Azula is the talented sister, but Zuko is the good sister, the one candid about her intentions and honest with her affections. She gets things Azula doesn’t know how to get without fear and manipulation - friends, loyalty, favors.

And here’s some unrelated fluff:

Zuko taking Yue on a dragon ride;

(How is Yue alive? Maybe something similar to lessons in tea making, where when Zhao tries to kidnap the moon spirit she manages to get her hands on the bag before he can try any shit and goes Full On Goddess on these bitches);

Zhao trying to be creepy to Zuko and then he sees Uncle and the crew in the background glaring at him with death in their eyes and, taking the hint for once in his life, he backs off;

June and Zuko circling each other like cats, Zuko is snarking, June is flirting, Iroh has no idea how this to handle this;

Song, watching a pretty girl brood on her porch after she physically carried her much larger uncle into the clinic herself: My Time Has Come;

Jin very carefully, with a lot of plausible deniability bc Ba Sing Se, asks Zuko out and has a grand old time watching this very beautiful girl be an absolute social disaster;

Ty Lee going to Zuko about trying to woo Azula, because half the world’s in love with Zuko, so she must know something Ty Lee can use;

Aang finally realizes Zuko is a girl their first training session after their Sun Warrior trip (like, he KNEW, obviously, but it didn’t click in his head before);

Zuko training Aang without a shirt on, so like just a sports-bra type thing and pants, and sitting to the side, in order: Sokka sharpening his swords and carefully Not Looking, Suki gazing appreciatively and moving on with her day, Toph Just Sitting Here Not Doing Anything What Do You Mean, and Katara scowling in Abject Victimized Fury (NO IM NOT LOOKING AT HER ABS I DONT EVEN CARE THAT SHE HAS ABS WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO ME ABOUT THIS GO AWAY);

Katara, when able to ignore Zuko’s Everything, is really excited to have a friend who is actually really into being feminine and who isn’t her brother’s girlfriend;

Katara and Zuko, Mom Friend Team (their Disappointed voices can get the Gaang to do anything)

Suki, at the Boiling Rock, watching Zuko fight her sister, fierce and deadly and determined and beautiful: …nice;

Toph makes Zuko carry her around after the feet burning, and she just laughs quietly and does it, and she’s so warm and strong and smells like smoke and fire lilies and - Toph, An Lesbian: This Was A Mistake;

Toph and Katara and Yue with Zuko, Crown Princess and Heir to the Dragon Throne, a deeply powerful woman even independent of her bending, who was never taught to be less than what she is just because she’s a woman, and who still refuses to make herself small to make other people comfortable the way they’ve been told they have to;

word going around the Lower Ring about this great tea shop with an absolutely Gorgeous server, but be careful, if you creep her out you will get punched and tossed out the door

Longshot staring at Smellerbee and Jet’s hearteyes over this (admittedly pretty badass) scarred, grumpy tea server and giving up on understanding his friends;

Zuko going through the worst stages of puberty BANISHED on a SHIP in the MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN with an uncle who had NO DAUGHTERS.

I love all of this?? Some thoughts:

In this AU, being born female almost seems like a positive change for Zuko, which I love. Rather than adding more hardships onto an already hard life, it allows the people around her to draw more parallels between Ursa and Zuko. The palace staff, the royal court - they see Ursa in Zuko’s kindness and clumsy grace. And Ursa may be a girl born to a humble coastal family, but you can’t tell me she didn’t secretly win the loyalty of many people in Caldera. After all, this is a woman cunning enough to intercept Ozai’s plan to kill Zuko and propose a new one so ruthless that even he couldn’t disagree. She would know how to make allies and keep herself busy.

When Zuko is banished, echoes linger in the palace. Ozai has always compared Zuko to Azula, but now, Azula hears the whispers of the royal court about how cold and cruel she is, how unlike her elder sister she is, and it makes her feel small and hard like a knife. She doesn’t need to be like Zuko, who was so kind that she got herself scarred and banished. Azula doesn’t need to be liked, after all: she just needs to be feared.

June/Zuko is glorious. June is having the time of her life flirting with this rough-around-the-edges princess, while Zuko easily falls into a sarcastic, antagonist rhythm with her. The UST is palpable. The crew rolls their eyes and just gets out of their way, while Iroh is so confused.

(And, god. I love Iroh but he didn’t have any daughters and he really wasn’t prepared to take a 13yo girl under his wing. Oof)

I love that Katara being attracted to a shirtless, sweaty Zuko and being EXTREMELY angry about is universal across the AUs. Very good.

Toph is so valid!! She is a baby lesbian thoroughly enjoying the gaang suddenly acquiring a strong, firebender-warm, scratchy-voiced princess. She is not subtle and she Does Not Care.

And a scene I have stuck in my head: Zuko addressing Yue without any hesitation, as a leader speaking to another nation’s heir, full of respect and strength and confidence, because this is the way it should be. Yue would be so enthralled by a royal who only doubts herself because she wants to do right by her people, not because of her gender. A woman who never questions her place among the world leaders. They would get along so well - and that’s not even including all the accidental flirting.

#submissions #reply #atla headcanons #long post ?#fem zuko #submission

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onthepageoftears · 5 years ago

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Kill Your Darlings Ch. 11 (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader) || Witcher

A/N: Hello all! I got a lot of feedback on AO3 showing a lot of excitement over the last chapter, so I’m kind of sad to say this one doesn’t have action in it. Don’t fret, there will be plenty in the future ;) Anyway, thanks for following along with this story, we’ve still got a-ways to go.

Your comments and feedback are always encouraged and mean a lot to me!

Summary: The past is more than just memories.

Warnings: mentions of killing/death, gore/violence, kidnapping, emotional trauma; intense gazes over the fire, jaskier and a child being cute, blushing ;)

Words: 2,550

Please Don’t Plagiarize My Work!

The darkness fell quicker than any of you were prepared for, and you all agreed that camping out the night in the forest would be the safest for Lilla. Traveling with a young girl in the woods at night, no matter how safe Toby said it was, was not a good idea. So, the three of you got to work on setting up camp — and by three of you, it was mostly just you and Geralt. Jaskier was focused on strumming his lute for Lilla to dance to.

The girl had come out of her shocked state quicker than you’d expected. Not long after the three of you were searching for a place to set up camp, her giggles were among the noises of the forest. Jaskier was keeping Lilla occupied, which you had to admit you were thankful for. Still, it was hard for you to imagine what the bard told you had happened: he saw the girl running from the camp and rushed towards her, grabbing her and carrying her off before she could get any deeper into the woods. The idea of Jaskier swooping the little girl in his arms without a fuss seemed less than plausible, but then you saw her clutching the doll that you made him hold, and it made sense.

“Jaskier, play another!” Lilla’s voice echoed in the night, making you wince. You were glad to see the little girl smiling, especially after her fear stricken face was embedded in your mind. Still, you didn’t know what was in these woods — bandits of the same group could still be lurking, searching for the girl they worked so hard to keep to themselves.

Jaskier must have caught your tensed features, because he instead sat against a nearby tree. “Maybe we should settle for now, yeah?” You let out a sigh of relief when Lilla sat down next to him, leaning against the same tree. You couldn’t help the way your lips twitched into a smile at how close the two had gotten in what seemed like minutes. Still, something tugged inside of you as you looked at the girl, wondering what happened to her while she was taken.

You tore your gaze away, trying to rid yourself of those thoughts. What mattered now was that she was safe, and soon to be home. You felt yourself grow antsy as Geralt started up the fire.

You kneeled across from him, throwing another stick into the growing flame. “The girl must be hungry. Maybe we should find her something—“

“I’ll go.” Geralt stood up without hesitation and grabbed his swords, his eyes determined and glinting in the light of the fire. It seemed like mere seconds before he disappeared through the trees, leaving before you could argue.

You cleared your throat, suddenly nervous to be alone with the young girl and the bard. You were never particularly good with children, but you also didn’t seek out their company.

“Excuse me.” You looked over to Lilla, whose doe eyes were blinking up at you, “What’s your name?”

That was the second time you were taken aback by the simple question. You sucked in a breath and settled against the tree just beside her, despite your inner protest.

“Y/N.” You jutted your chin towards the toy in her hands. “Does your doll have a name?”

“Madelina. After my mother.” She hugged it tightly, bringing her knees to her chest, “My mother is dead.”

You blinked quickly at her blunt words. Toby had mentioned that her mother had passed, so it wasn’t the fact that surprised you. It was the forwardness of the girl’s words. She wasn’t afraid of the truth, almost barely phased, which was something that was second nature to you ever since Rauf watched over you. You felt a tug at your heart that made you frown.

After a second, you responded, “So is mine.”

Lilla met your eyes once again, this time in a sort of — understanding. “I miss her. Do you miss your mom?”

You closed your eyes, fighting the swelling that rose in your chest, “Yes.” It was the simplest answer you could give, but it didn’t feel simple at all. You missed your mother, so much, and it made it even worse when you thought about it — which is why you were glad to hear the strum of the lute.

“How about that song, Lilla?” You opened your eyes once again to see Jaskier looking at you, just for a moment, before looking back to the girl.

She nodded her head, but instead of keeping her focus on the bard, she turned to you.

“Jaskier is a bard. That…man is—” She cut herself off, her nose scrunching as she forgot the name.

“A witcher,” You finished for her, an amused smile falling on your features.

She nodded, her eyes trained on you, “What are you?”

Your mouth opened to respond, but the words died on your tongue. You weren’t about to tell a little girl that you were an assassin. The word alone had a negative connotation that you didn’t think would be swayed even if you explained it to the child. Morals weren’t exactly easy to understand, even for most adults. Telling Lilla that you only killed bad people might be as easy as telling her what really happened to people after they died. You tried to come up with something else to say, but your brain fell short.

You were surprised to hear another voice interrupt your thoughts. “Y/N is…a spy.” Jaskier winked at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “There’s no better one I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of people.”

“Wow.” Lilla’s eyes widened as she looked at you, even more-so than when Jaskier previously told her the story of the dragon.

“Oh, but you can’t tell anyone.” Jaskier feigned a frown, his voice laced with a false sternness that made you nearly crack a smile. But you kept your stoic expression, your own eyes crinkling as you met his.

You cleared your throat, eyes finding Lilla’s, “It’s very important that you keep this information to yourself, Lilla. I trust you with that — and trust is…not easy to come by.” You found yourself looking back to Jaskier whose lips twitched into a smile.

“Especially from Y/N. You’re lucky if you get that. Really lucky.” His eyes stayed on yours despite Lilla stifling a yawn. You searched his eyes, the same eyes that you once wanted to see the light go out of. It was strange how much could change in a short amount of time, though it seemed like forever. And it was strange that this bard was alive because you were the one put on his assignment, that he had the witcher to defend him, that you didn’t slit his throat when you had the chance. And now here you were, sitting in the same campsite with a girl you had just rescued from bandits. Everything led to this moment, and would have lead to this moment, whether you expected it to or not.

You ripped your gaze from him as heat rose to your cheeks, instead moving your eyes to the still glistening fire.

Luck. It was luck, indeed.

—

It didn’t take long after that for Lilla’s eyes to grow heavier and heavier. She sat between you and Jaskier, who was playing a soft tune that was so soothing that you yourself were feeling its effects. You kept your eyes open, though, as Lilla descended into a calm sleep state, finally succumbing to the rest and leaning her head in your lap. As soon as she fell asleep, your eyes were practically glued open, determined to keep the child safe.

There was something about the small girl that made you want to tear off the limbs of anyone who hurt her. Maybe it was her age, or naivety — but part of you knew it wasn’t just that. She reminded you of yourself as a child, before everything seemed to fall in front of your eyes. You were like her — fearless, but still afraid. You learned it then — and you hoped Lilla learned now — that her father, her home, her stability…was something to hold onto. And to never let go.

“She likes you.” Jaskier’s voice startled you. In the dim light of the fire you could tell his eyes were closed as he leaned his head against the tree, but still, he was smiling.

You snorted a laugh, being sure to keep quiet as the girl snored lightly.

“She does.”

“She likes you too.”

This time Jaskier snorted. “Everyone likes me.”

“Mm-hm.” You allowed yourself to smile wide, shaking your head as you kept your eyes on the man beside you. He finally opened his eyes, just catching the end of your smirk.

“Where did you live? Before all…this.” He gestured to your body — you guessed he was referring to your armor, your lifestyle.

“Why do you assume I lived any other way?”

Jaskier rolled his head along the tree behind him to face you, his eyebrows raising in defiance. You couldn’t help but notice how bright his eyes shined even in a night like this one. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have saved this little girl.” He let his mouth hang open slightly, placing his tongue between his teeth as he waited for the argument he knew you couldn’t give. “So, where did you live?”

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. The bard was annoying, sure, but he knew how to get information out of people. You felt the nagging in the back of your head telling you to bite your tongue — but what harm could come from speaking vaguely of your past?

You clicked your tongue, avoiding Jaskier’s prominent gaze. “I lived in a small village. Not much different from this one. Only — it was smaller. Weaker.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows furrowed. “Weaker. Meaning not safe?”

“Meaning weak.” You sighed, the memories rushing back to the front of your mind. “The people weren’t ready for the world outside of the village.”

“Were you?”

You shrugged, looking down at the girl in your lap, “I was a child.”

Part of you wanted to kick yourself, the part that couldn’t get Rauf’s voice to quiet down. Being young doesn’t mean you can’t be strong, he’d say as your eyes brimmed with tears. Crying is weak. You need to be strong.

You shook the memory away, biting the inside of your cheek with a sigh. That was one of his many lessons that you still disagreed with to this day, though you wouldn’t admit that now.

“Your mother died when you were young, then?”

You snapped your eyes to the bard’s, the breath nearly being knocked out of you. He barely faltered, soft eyes meeting your cold ones with no fear embedded in them. You blinked slowly once you realized he had no malcontent, taking a deep breath as you looked away. Talking about yourself, about your past, was a bad idea. It was painful and only distracted you, especially when you needed to be alert.

You shook your head and ignored the bard’s gaze. It wasn’t something you wanted to talk about. It wasn’t something you were ready to talk about. So you didn’t. And maybe a little quiet would make him take the hint.

Of course, it didn’t.

“Did they hurt her?“ When you looked back at him, his eyes were on Lilla’s sleeping body — but the soft gaze he once had was angry, maybe even furious. You opened and closed your mouth, nearly taken aback by his features.

Finally, you responded, “I don’t know. She doesn’t have any bruises or marks—” Jaskier’s eyes met yours once more, his face returning to the one you grew to know — a warm gaze, though his features were still tense. You couldn’t blame him; your own eyes hardened at the thought of Lilla’s fearful face. Whatever happened to her, it was permanent. It was hopefully the most fear she would have to feel in her life, but even so, the memory would never fade away, not even when happier ones might be strong enough to replace it.

You sighed, shaking your head. “She’ll never forget this. Ever. And that’s much, much worse.”

Jaskier licked his lips and wiped a hand over his face. “I cannot even fathom—“ He closed his eyes, forcing the words out of his mouth. “I cannot even fathom what she will go through. What she has been through.”

You slammed your mouth shut, your lips forming into a tight line. The bard meant well, but something about his tone — his naivety — made you angry. From the girl, you would expect, but him? He traveled with a witcher. He had seen his fair share of what happens in the world, to people, to children. Maybe he was one of the people who chose to ignore the chaos around him, to live with the way people treated each other and got away with it. Maybe he never had to live through something like that, something so awful that you couldn’t sleep at night without nightmares plaguing your mind.

And maybe he was lucky for it.

You clenched your jaw, voice coming out harsher than you meant for it to, “She’ll get through it. She has to. We all do.”

The fire was dying now, embers slowly gravitating towards the night sky. You watched the fading flames flick towards the sky, reaching for more life.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was gentler than before, but in the quiet of the forest, you could hear it loud and clear.

Your heart beat aggressively against your chest as you turned to look at him. “For what?”

He searched your face, his concern-laced eyes making your stomach flip. “For whatever happened to you.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though you didn’t know if you had anything to say. Before you could find out, the sound of footsteps nearly made you jolt from your spot on the ground, your hand instinctively reaching for your knife. You let yourself slink backward when you realized it was the witcher, heart still beating rabidly against your chest.

“Caught some rabbit.” He said, sliding his sword back in its sheath. He was oblivious to the conversation he had interrupted, or even if he wasn’t, he didn’t care.

“She’s asleep.” You gestured to the girl in your lap despite the witcher’s eyes lingering on the darkness of the forest.

“Breakfast, then.” He looked at you, to the girl in your lap, then to the bard. You thought he might’ve rolled his eyes if not for his dedication to hiding most of his emotions. “I’ll keep watch.”

You would’ve argued, but something made you bite your tongue. Maybe it was Lilla’s sleeping body, or the way your heart was still trying to slow itself down. You ignored Jaskier’s eyes on you, despite the desire to look back. At this point, you just wanted to close your eyes and let the world fade away, just for a bit. Besides, the girl on your lap wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, and neither was the bard. And you didn’t know if that was a good thing.

———————————————————————————————————

there goes geralt always cutting their heart-to-hearts short :/

Let me know your thoughts!

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7-wonders · 5 years ago

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Lost In the Shadows

Summary: As a naturally curious person, the odd mannerisms of your elusive new boss pique your interest, making you determined to figure out who, or what, he is.

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: It’s a vampire Michael fic! I really hope you guys enjoy; feedback is always appreciated, and if you loved this I would love if you’d give it a like, comment, and reblog. Enjoy!

There’s something strange about your new boss.

Being one of the longest-tenured employees at Kineros Robotics, having worked in the R & D department for a whopping three months, you were initially relieved when Ms. Venable had told you about the sudden arrival of a new owner. You loved your work, and could think of no better job than getting to conduct experiments on new technologies to help paraplegics and researching artificial neuron studies, but the two men that hired you made it really hard to not think about quitting at least three times a day. Jeff and Mutt, the two coked-out oddballs who somehow managed to co-found a Fortune 500 company, had annoyed or harassed nearly every employee of theirs to the point of quitting within their first three months of work. You’re an anomaly, and if the pay and benefits weren’t so good, as well as the research opportunities, you would have long been out the door with the same people that you were hired with.

The announcement of a new owner was initially a welcome change to the company’s personnel. Maybe this owner would be able to put Jeff and Mutt into their places, and make them realize how to conduct themselves as the founders of such a prestigious company. Hell, maybe the new owner would even allocate some new funds to your R & D department so that you can finally purchase the new, state-of-the art projector that would allow you to create lifesize, 3-D, virtual models of your various research projects that you’ve had your eye on for a month now. Even Ms. Venable, the always stoic secretary whose only emotions seem to be apathy or disdain, manages to crack a small smile when she tells you the news. The long-gossiped about arrival of a new boss seems to be just the thing that will help boost employee morale and allow you to actually get some work done instead of having Jeff and Mutt pester you to see if you can build them a realistic sex robot (a request that you’ve denied multiple times).

Things seem like they’ll be great, and for the most part, they are. Jeff and Mutt hardly cause distractions for you now, and they approve almost any budget request you put on their desks. However, the constant look of fear that caused their eyes to dilate and widen, combined with the welcome lack of cocaine in the building, had you questioning what has gotten into the pair. Employee retention has never been higher, but so many of the newer employees walk around in a dazed stupor, only answering you if you snap your fingers in front of their faces or repeat their names. The common factor in all of this is, of course, your boss; the only question is, who the hell is your boss?

For such a dramatic change in the productivity of Kineros, you’re expecting a much larger authoritative presence than what you’ve seen. Indeed, this new boss is extremely elusive and never in the office. What’s striking to you is that there was never any official memo. No note, no email, not even Ms. Venable was able to gossip about who this boss was, simply for the fact that she couldn’t find out any information. Luckily, you’ve managed to become acquaintances with many of your coworkers, something the purple-clad secretary has never been able to accomplish. The details, while scarce, are enough to form a vague image in your head.

According to the dazed employees whom you now work alongside, the boss is a man called Langdon. No word on whether it’s his first or last name, because apparently he’s so intimidating that any question a person may have flees their mind at the sight of him. In fact, people forget most aspects of their encounters with Langdon, thanks to two possible reasons. The first is, of course, that he’s just so damn frightening that everyone’s brains develop some sort of short-term memory amnesia in an attempt to forget about what they just saw. The second which, from general consensus seems to be the more plausible, is that his beauty is so blinding that it’s impossible to remember what the conversation was about when one is staring at “those cheekbones!” Kineros has always seemed to have shallow assumptions and vapid materialism woven into its very core, so it’s not too surprising to hear that everyone is so dazed because they’ve got the hots for Langdon.

Langdon, it would seem, is the only topic that employees know how to talk about lately. Frankly, you’re sick of it. You don’t really care who the boss is, what he looks like, or where he is that’s so much more important than the business he now runs, so long as the company’s running and your paychecks are being deposited into your bank account on a regular basis. If he really wanted to make sure that Kineros was running smoothly, he would show his face around the office more in order to quell the rumors and prevent you from having to stop disoriented coworkers from applying two sources of the same charge and nearly blowing up the labs for the third time in a week.

It’s late on a Friday, which means that nobody, save the janitor and security guards, is in the building. While everyone else employed here bolted for the doors the second the clock hit five, you were just getting started with your more-important research. You like working when it’s blissfully quiet and you can move around while you think, pacing back and forth as you run over calculations or decide which millimeter difference would help your machine to work more efficiently. Lately, you’ve often found yourself in the labs until the security team has to ask you to leave so that they can finish their rounds. With all of the commotion over Langdon’s appointment, it’s been difficult to get much work done during a traditional work day.

You’re sitting at your desk, random pieces of paper cluttering the workspace around you as you attempt to work out the schematics for a new prosthetic hand you’re designing that would be controlled by a patient’s brain, when the sound of shoes clicking across the shiny floor has your pencil stopping in its tracks. It’s a foreign noise, especially at this time of the evening; both the custodial and security staff wear heavy boots, the footsteps of which you could recognize from a floor away. These are different--lighter, yet confident. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up before the door to the lab opens, and you tense before taking a precautionary sip of tea and slowly turning around.

The tea was a bad decision, causing you to nearly choke as you lock eyes with your unexpected visitor. You’re sure that you’ve never met before; surely you would remember someone as ethereal as this man? His face looks like it was crafted by the most renowned Renaissance sculptors themselves, all sharp angles and delicate features. His blonde hair flows to just past his shoulders, and his cold blue eyes (accented with a dark red eye shadow that’s perfectly applied to the inner corners) watch you with an intensity that makes you shiver. He’s dressed in all black, a stark contrast to the white decor of Kineros. A silk scarf hangs loosely around his neck, ornate rings decorating his slender fingers. Your eyes linger on the metallic talon ring that sits on his index finger, which looks sharp enough to easily slice through anyone or anything.

Although his delicate features give him the look of an angel, there’s something much darker that clouds his face like a summer storm. You’ve never felt as intimidated by someone’s mere presence as you do in front of this man, and you realize that this can only be the mysterious Langdon. He smirks as he watches you scramble out of your chair, amused at your clumsy reaction to his sudden appearance. You feel intensely scrutinized as he looks you up and down, his lip curling as you nervously tap your fingers against your leg.

“It’s--uh, nice to finally meet you, Mr. Langdon,” you stutter, mentally smacking yourself for how unprofessional you look and sound. You weren’t exactly expecting visitors tonight, hence the messy bun you pulled your hair into and your bare feet, heels having been kicked off as soon as your coworkers left.

Langdon takes calculated steps towards you, stalking closer until your heart is thumping wildly at the abrupt proximity. You don’t know it, but the scent of your blood as it rushes just under the surface of your delicate skin has his eyes imperceptibly fluttering in near-ecstasy. He’s been around for a long, long time, and tasted some of the finest blood that the world has had to offer, but it’s extremely rare for someone’s essence to sing its siren song to him in the way that yours does.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” he drawls, voice lilting and higher-pitched than you would have expected. It’s tantalizing, sweet, and teasing, everything that you would expect from this man. “A pity I have not been able to visit here sooner, but I have had...other matters to attend to, as of late.”

You find your head bobbing up and down at his excuses, realizing that you would quickly do anything that this man asked of you if it meant you got to hear him say your name again. The sound of your phone chiming, an alarm you had set to remind yourself to get up from your desk and get something to eat if you still hadn’t left the office (at least nobody could ever say that you underperformed at your job), snaps you out of the daze that Langdon’s presence had put you in. You narrow your eyes, refusing to let this man charm you into submission like everybody else at this company.

“What, did you buy another company just so you could arouse some more suspicion as the mysterious, elusive commander-in-chief?” Your breath catches in your throat, the words escaping before you can even think otherwise.

Langdon stares at you for a long moment, and you’re already bracing to pack up your belongings and leave before security has to drag you out of the building. Then, something unexpected happens. A slow smile spreads across his face, one that shows off his (oddly sharp-looking) teeth.

“Witty and a genius, then.”

“Hardly, but thank you, Mr. Langdon.”

“It’s Michael,” he divulges, and you get a warm feeling in your chest that only a select few are privy to this information.

Langdon--no, Michael, you remind yourself--glances over your shoulder at the rough sketches of your next projects that clutter your desk.

“Artificial neural pathways? That sounds like quite the endeavor.”

“It will be, but it’s an endeavor I’m excited to take on. We’ve only used artificial neural pathways in order to enhance computers, but why not use them to help people? They’re made to mimic human functions; if I can figure out a way to target specific areas of the brain and make them small enough for successful implantations, there’s no telling what we could accomplish. Think of all of the traumatic brain injuries that would be healed with these! We could, potentially, eradicate diseases like Alzhiemer’s and dementia.”

Michael, for whom empathy is not an emotion commonly felt, finds himself listening intently as you explain your ideas. Your face lights up as you talk about this passion of yours, making his chest clench almost painfully. He didn’t come here tonight to ‘meet’ some of the people under the Cooperative’s hierarchy, he came here to feed. The entire damn reason for showing up suddenly at Jeff and Mutt’s thirtieth-story office was to collect part of their payment that comes along with selling their souls, like allowing Michael to take over the company, further his plans for the end of days, and have free reign of a hunting ground that was teeming with blood of all different types and tastes.

There’s multiple reasons why Michael doesn’t allow himself to get attached to humans. For starters, their lives are all too short compared to his, and all too irrelevant. How can they expect to make any sort of a meaningful mark on their dull world when they have, at most, a few decades to live? Pathetic creatures, Michael’s always thought whenever he watches them; a predator stalking his prey. They’re so easy to fool, to charm and glamour until they’re basically baring their necks to him, begging him to feed from them. Humans are pliable, minds easily molded by any force stronger than a slight breeze.

You were meant to be nothing more than Michael’s next meal. The beginning of his hunt was so routine, it was almost comical how easy it was to waltz into your lab and work you into a daze. Your damn phone alarm had ruined it all, had snapped the spell that he had put you under and allowed you to face him head-on. As soon as your little backhanded insult reached his ears, he knew that he couldn’t go through with it. His kind is, unfortunately, prone to enhanced feelings. In addition to their physical abilities becoming heightened with the transformation, their emotions are as well. It’s one of their very few weaknesses, and one that may have just saved you from your death.

If it were any other day, any other person, any other occasion, intense rage would course through Michael’s body and the victim would be dead before they could even blink. Today, though, he’s slow to anger. Whether that be because he had just fed three days ago or because he’s actually enjoying this hunt, your remark catches him off guard. You have a fire within you that Michael hasn’t seen for some time. Even if he doesn’t cloud the mind of a human, they’re usually so taken by his beauty that they couldn’t even think to say anything remotely disparaging. He admires it, that fight, and it’s enough of a hesitation for that admiration to make him doubt his choice for today’s meal. After you explain how you plan to develop neurons that would save a person’s brain from the slow decline of disease, Michael knows that he can’t kill you.

Michael could, of course, still feed from you without killing you. Although it looks like the obvious option from an outsider’s perspective, it’s only feasible when the source is a willing party in this dark tango. He’s had a few of those partners in previous decades, but has been without one for the last twenty or so years. When hunting, like Michael is, there are only two options for what to do with one’s prey (after all, consuming a human in their entirety was lethal, the dead blood dragging his kind to their own deaths). Either the victim’s supply is drained for macabre leftovers, or they’re compelled to forget the entire experience.

Small-scale compulsions have no lasting effect on the compulsee, but forcing a person’s mind to forget hours upon hours of prior events leaves them in what’s basically a trance. They become sleep-walkers, only this is a dream they can’t wake up from. With their glazed eyes and one sentence answers to any questions that may be asked of them, they’re temporarily shells of their former selves as their minds try to comprehend and make sense of the sudden gap in memories. Michael can’t do that to you, can’t watch your brilliant mind be muddled just so that he can get a quick meal. Hell, he would just kill you, but something in him balks at the mere idea of such an act.

You stifle a gasp when Michael’s suddenly inches away from you, hand ghosting across your cheek and talon ring dangerously close to nicking your skin. His cyan eyes burn into you, as if he’s sifting through the deepest crevices of your soul. He smiles again, but this time it’s softer, like he knows something that you don’t.

“A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be here this late at night. Go home, (Y/N),” Michael whispers, head tilting while he watches every minor movement that your muscles make. Your brow furrows at his abrupt instructions and you tense, not willing to let this near-stranger tell you what to do.

“But I’m not done yet, and why should I even--”

“(Y/N),” Michael almost coos, eyes searching yours as he gets your attention and pins you to your place. You want to move and escape his grasp before berating him for his actions, but you can’t seem to even blink, much less look away from his gaze. “Go home.”

His words carry a different power this time around, and you start to gather your coat and bags as soon as he lets go of you.

For tonight, Michael will reduce himself to hunting on the streets, finding some vagrant to satiate his needs. He won’t kill you, not until he figures out how you managed to unknowingly find a weakness of his and exploit it to avoid your death. For now, though, Michael releases you from the building and watches you until the door closes behind you, making sure your stubborn mind actually heeds his compulsion. Even when you’re out into the cool night, you can still feel the piercing gaze of Michael’s chilling eyes on your back, closely watching your every move.

There’s definitely something strange about your new boss.

////////////////////////

For the next two weeks, you’re constantly on edge at work as you try to keep an eye out for Michael. You’ve attempted to figure out how he got you to leave so suddenly on that night, tried to find some logical explanation for the strangeness of that evening, but you just can’t. You’re a woman of science, one who finds solace in facts and figures. All of the collected data in the world couldn’t explain the enigma that is Michael Langdon.

The computer has become both your best friend and your worst enemy as of late. You’ve searched almost nonstop for some sort of an explanation, with nothing to show for it except for a few Reddit /nosleep boards with their made-up horror stories. It’s useless, you’re starting to feel, and you’ve spent far too many hours perusing the internet instead of focusing on your work. A direct consequence of this action, you’ve stayed late at work nearly every night that you’ve found your mind wandering. What had originally seemed to be a self-inflicted punishment, however, is starting to feel like a piece of a much larger puzzle.

Michael starts to become a familiar face around Kineros on the evenings that you’re working late. While he may just be an extremely productive night owl, it’s still a little odd that he’s only ever around during the later hours of the night. When you had asked Jeff and Mutt about it after your first encounter with Michael, they had both stuttered aggressively before unconvincingly telling you that “he makes his own hours.” You weren’t buying it at all, and their behavior towards the matter only made you more suspicious. Why did you only ever see this man in the late hours of the night?

The odd work habits were the main red flag, but others just kept popping up as soon as you realized that things were not quite right. You couldn’t help but notice that every person who shared the same dazed demeanor you had seen on countless others since the change in personnel had one other thing in common: they had all come in contact with Michael. You’d be working late, see one of your coworkers in the kitchen while you were both grabbing another cup of coffee, see Michael on your way back to the lab, and the next day that coworker would be walking around like a zombie. You’ve tried to convince yourself that there’s no correlation between the two situations, but the only other option would be some sort of poisoning that happens after-hours. Obviously that’s impossible, considering you haven’t been affected like the other employees have.

It’s childish and fanciful, the theory that’s placed itself in the forefront of your mind. However, what other conclusion could you come to that would explain the strange and unusual things that you’ve seen and experienced lately? Michael, this young, ethereal man who was able to have you completely under his spell with just the utterance of your name, managed to take control of a Fortune 500 company in a day. The odd mannerisms that others around you have displayed only began when Michael showed up here, not to mention the ever-present glass of what looked to be red wine nestled snugly between his fingers. You only ever see him at night, and he appears so suddenly and quietly that it’s as if he’s a ghost. Everything about him seems like a rose dipped in poison: beautiful, but deadly.

You’ve seen Michael helpfully calibrate your neutron spectrometer with simply a glance at the machine and some skilled handiwork. Even a professional repairman, with their specialty tools, would have required at least a week to get it to working condition. He even lifted the 300-pound piece of equipment like it was the weight of a newborn kitten, briefly making you think that it wasn’t nearly as heavy as you thought it was. That was quickly disproven when you tried to lift it after he left and couldn’t even move a corner of it.

You’re not some 15-year-old child anymore, which is what will make this conclusion so humiliating if it actually is wrong. You know what the realm of possibility is, and that even most things that belong outside that realm are still rooted in logic. That you would believe yourself to be the protagonist of some teen supernatural novel is almost ludicrous. You’ve eliminated all other possibilities, but Sir Arthur Conan Doyle himself once said that “once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” With all that you’ve seen, and all that you know, there can only be possible truth.

Michael Langdon is a vampire.

It’s not a conclusion that you’re proud of, but it’s the one that you’ve got. Nevertheless, the plan that you’ve formulated will either make or break you, and your career. You know that you’re the only Kineros employee in the building tonight, since Jeff’s ‘birthday’ (third one this year) warrants a massive party at his house that all employees are invited to attend. Most of your coworkers won’t turn down the opportunity to indulge in some of the finest drugs that the West Coast has to offer, and you’ve asked around enough to discern that you’ll be the only one here tonight. Since it’s a Thursday, Michael should, if what you believe is correct, be stalking the halls tonight in search of his next meal. Theoretically, predator will become prey.

You’re sitting at your desk, legs propped up on the table while you twirl a scalpel between your fingers. Although you could have already set your plan into motion, you’re hesitant. What if it doesn’t work? What if you just turn out to be some fool with your head in the clouds, making yourself bleed for no reason? Worse, what if it does work and you end up getting yourself killed? It’s now or never, you decide, and with a deep breath you dig the tip of the scalpel into the pad of your finger.

Michael��s head snaps up the moment that he smells the blood being spilled from four floors below. It’s impossible for his head to not be clouded with your scent whenever he’s in this building, the rich aroma so intense that he can practically taste it on his tongue. Now that your skin has been cut, you’re all that he can think about. He’s been desperate to control himself, has sensed your ever growing suspicion since your first encounter two weeks ago. He can’t let himself slip up, not after he’s been so careful for so long. The injury that you’ve sustained, however minor it may be, changes everything.

The door is flung open with such force that it rattles the hinges, your head snapping up at the disturbance. It’s been maybe 30 seconds since blood started beading at the tip of your finger, and it’s such a small amount that you’ve been preparing to injure another part of your body that will produce more blood. Michael stands mere feet away from you, looking positively ravenous. His chest is heaving as he takes deep breaths, and his eyes are locked onto your finger.

“I knew it,” you mutter in disbelief, brandishing the scalpel in front of you as a pathetic weapon. Dark veins have appeared like cracks under Michael’s eyes, which are now a startling shade of red and black. It’s obvious that he can sense your fear, can hear your heart beating wildly in your chest, when he smirks and shows off his pointy fangs.

“It was only a matter of time before you figured it out, hmm?” Michael teases, voice sounding even more exquisite than it normally is. “You’re not like the other employees here, oh no. You’re smart, and self-aware. You’re able to believe in things that seem to be outside of the realm of possibility, no matter how insane it may seem.”

“Stay back,” you warn when Michael starts to take a few steps closer, still staring at the blood that has welled on your finger.

“You think that little knife of yours could stop me?”

A loud gasp is the only noise you can produce when Michael is gripping your wrist in less than the blink of an eye. He forces the scalpel out of your hand, and it falls to the ground with a clatter. You can only watch as his tongue wraps around your injured finger, sucking and licking the blood and prodding the wound to produce more. Your knees grow weak as you watch the shockingly erotic scene play out in front of you, Michael moaning around your finger. He only pulls off when the blood flow stops, your cut clotting quicker than Michael can agitate the wound.

“I taste good to you?” You ask, watching him intensely as you snatch your hand back from him.

Michael licks his bottom lip, where some of your blood has pooled, before smiling ferally and nodding. “Absolutely divine, pet.”

Anger flares at the pet name, but that’s really the least of your concerns right now considering a fucking vampire is ready to devour you.

“You want more?” Michael nods enthusiastically. “Then you’re gonna have to sit down and answer my questions.”

“And what makes you think I won’t just drain you right now?” Michael drawls, quirking an eyebrow at your demands.

“You won’t,” you say confidently. “If you didn’t kill me that first night you showed up in my lab, there’s no way you’ll kill me now.”

Michael locks eyes with you for a long moment, a shiver wracking down your spine as you stare into those dark red eyes. You honestly don’t know if he actually would kill you, and you’re praying that you guessed right. Finally he nods, sitting in the seat that you occupied mere minutes ago. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding, hopping onto the desk to give yourself some illusion of dominance in this situation. He’s annoyed that you’ve flipped the tables on him, but that annoyance turns to rapture when you dig the scalpel into the fleshy part of your palm just enough to bring a drop of blood to the surface.

“Answer my questions, and I’ll cut enough to let you drink. Deal?” You wince at the pain of the blade piercing your skin, but push it to the side as you wait for Michael to make his decision.

“Yes, fine! We have a deal.” You remove the blade from your hand and wipe the blood against a cloth, making Michael groan at the waste.

“Oh hush, you haven’t even answered my questions yet.”

“Just what would you like to know?”

“First: how are you a vampire?” Michael leans forward in his seat, teeth glinting as the light hits them.

“Ah, but I am so much more than just a vampire.”

Michael then proceeds to tell you the Sparknotes version of his story, which spans almost 400 years. How his father, the fucking Devil, created him with the goal of ushering in a new era for Hell to reign on Earth. The idea was that an immortal Michael would be able to live among humans and constantly change and observe, like a chameleon, collecting information and discerning when the right time to end the world as it is known would be. Unfortunately, immortality comes at a price. In order to live forever, with enhanced abilities and as young as he is now, Michael must feed from the blood of humans in order to retain his youth. One life benefiting another, although you don’t really see how senseless killings would benefit anybody but the killer.

“If you can’t survive without the blood of humans, then why are you so obsessed with ending the world?” You ask finally when Michael’s finished telling you his history.

“It’s not so much ‘ending the world’ as it is weeding out those who are not fit for survival. Only the strongest shall survive, and the strongest will be given the honor to serve Satan and his creatures.”

“Cultivating your food source, then?” You snort at the sheer ridiculousness of his plan.

“We won’t have to kill when everyone is willing to offer themselves. Think of it as a blood drive. Only a couple of pints every few weeks, which is what they would sacrifice to remain alive and in good health.”

“Why do you believe you’re so much better than everyone else?”

“Because I am,” Michael says as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “I’m the Antichrist, (Y/N). I possess powers that your mind couldn’t even fathom. I could level an entire city with just the snap of my fingers, could bend you to my will with a simple glance.”

“That’s how you were able to get me to leave the building that first night,” you realize, Michael nodding in agreement.

“Very good, pet. It’s also why so many of your fellow employees look as if they’re sleepwalking,” he mocks, giving you half a mind to dig the scalpel into the side of his neck. “Don’t even try it. That silly little wound would barely harm me, let alone kill me.”

“Great, you can read minds too?”

“Yet another one of my numerous gifts.”

“This is...a lot to take in.”

“Obviously. It’s not every day that you meet a man such as myself.” Michael licks his lips, staring at the beating pulse point on your neck. “Now, I believe you promised me some of your blood after I did what you asked of me?”

“Wait!” What sounds like a growl rumbles from Michael’s chest as he rolls his eyes. “Why didn’t you kill me, that first night I met you? It’s pretty obvious now that I was meant to be your meal then, so why did you decide not to? Aren’t I a liability now?”

“You are,” Michael admits. “You could, theoretically, run to the press and spill my secret. But you won’t. I don’t know you that well, true, but something in me knows that you won’t.”

He’s right, and you hate the fact that he is. Even if you were to tell the media, would they even believe you, or would they just think you’re crazy? Michael hasn’t killed you yet, but it’s entirely likely that he would end your life if you tried to tell anybody. Vampire or not, you’re not a snitch. His secret, unfortunately, is safe with you.

“Alright, fine, I wouldn’t tell anybody. That still doesn’t answer my first question, though. Why didn’t you kill me on the night we met?” Michael hesitates, the first sign of any emotion other than a confident arrogance or intense hunger.

“I--vampires are prone to heightened emotions. What you would feel as a normal emotion, we feel that tenfold. I was so close to completing the hunt and draining you, but your alarm snapped you out of the daze I had you in. When you made fun of me for never being around, it managed to make me laugh. You didn’t know it, but you had bought yourself some time. After you explained to me your plans, and I saw the brilliant mind you possess, there was no way I could kill you. You’re the first human I’ve talked to for almost a decade that’s made enough of an impression on me to avoid becoming prey.”

“I thought you were going to end up firing me after I said that,” you joke, placing the scalpel down now that you know you’ve made it impossible for Michael to kill you. “Well, a deal’s a deal.”

Michael’s eyes widen, and his fangs nearly pierce his bottom lip, even as he’s smiling. “Is it alright if I bite you? It’s been so long since I’ve had someone willingly let me feed from them.”

He closes his eyes and shudders, the mere thought of getting to bite you already exhilarating.

“Um...yeah, I guess?” The speed at which Michael moves is dizzying. One moment you’re staring down at him, and the next he’s got your back pinned against the desk.

“I’ve had to cut back on my hunts here in an attempt to keep you from figuring things out, but now that the secret’s out, that won’t be an issue.” He breathes deeply, nose nuzzling against your neck. You gasp when he lightly nips your pulse point, licking the heated flesh thoroughly.

“I won’t, like, become a vampire or anything, will I?” Michael smirks up at you, red starting to make its way back into those blue eyes.

“There’s a very specific process to become a vampire. You have nothing to worry about, pet.”

“This is so fucking crazy, I can’t believe I’m going to let an actual vampire bite me,” you mutter, nervously laughing as Michael brushes the hair away from your neck.

“I should warn you that many people find immense pleasure from being bitten.”

“Why’s that?”

“When connected to a pulse point, my heartbeat begins to sync with that of whomever I’m biting. This connects us, basically, and is very pleasurable for both parties.”

“Hmm, so exaggeration is also a vampire trait,” you quip, staring up at Michael. “Just get it over with, please.”

You refuse to close your eyes or look away, not wanting to show that you’re actually scared of the situation. Michael leans over you, heavy weight pressing you down against the glass desk. It’s a little shocking when he starts off by gently kissing your neck, nipping and sucking like every person who’s ever given you a hickey before has. When his hair starts to tickle your face, you lean your head further to the side. Michael looks up from his position, and you’re startled to see just how rapidly red floods into his eyes and black veins pop out above his cheekbones. He smirks, shooting you a playful wink before letting his head drop back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

You yelp when he first bites you, two pinpricks that feel like a liquid fire easily slicing your skin and allowing Michael to drink from you. His hips keep your lower body from squirming, hand locked in your hair and arm on your shoulder to prevent your thrashing. A question of whether Michael’s fangs act as straws, or if he simply allows the blood to pool into his mouth, enters your head. However, all thoughts are quickly pushed aside when the near-agonizing pain suddenly turns to a blinding pleasure.

Michael moans at the same time as you, but it hardly registers over the sound of your own pumping blood roaring in your ears. You can suddenly feel everything; blood running through your veins and being drained by Michael, how his velvet coat feels against your bare wrists, and even how painfully hard he is against your thigh. If this were any other time, you’d laugh in his face and make fun of him to the point where he would love to kill you. Now, though, you’d be a hypocrite, for your own arousal pools between your legs. You’re extremely grateful that you’re unable to move, or else you’re pretty sure your hips would be bucking up into his.

All of your senses are clouded by Michael. The sight of him, eyes closed and teeth clamped over your neck as he drinks deeply from you. The sounds of him, consuming your blood and loudly moaning at the same time. The feel of him, pressed up against you much in the same way a lover would position themselves. The smell of him, that rich copper that you now associate with blood and something earthy, something you only smell when you’re around a precious antique. Even how you can practically taste what he’s tasting, can see the allure in your own sweet, yet tangy, blood.

All you can think of, all you want, need, is Michael. Michael, Michael, Michael. You chant his name like a prayer, hands itching at the need to wrap around his lithe form and pull him even closer to you. The intense pleasure is all-consuming, and you realize that you would gladly let him drink you to death if it meant your last moments would be spent in ecstasy.

Michael isn’t a new vampire, and knows all of the signs when it’s getting to the point that his victim is going to start losing too much blood. He can sense your heart beating faster, breathing quickening as your legs weakly kick from under him. It’s incredibly difficult, but he manages to pull away. He can’t resist his base urges, leaning in to collect the last few drops of blood from your puncture wounds before sitting up between your legs and licking his lips clean. You scramble up, lightheaded and so aroused that you’re pulsing between your thighs.

“That was--that--wow,” you stutter, clutching a hand to your neck. You cringe slightly at the feeling of your own heart beating beneath your fingers, Michael smirking and delicately cleaning his fangs with his tongue.

“Such pretty noises you make, pet. Not to mention just how delectable you taste. Best that I’ve had this century, surely.”

You silently curse when you feel your cheeks heating up, Michael smiling widely at the blush on your face.

“Are you done now? I’d like to go home now,” you discreetly shift your thighs, trying anything to stop feeling so hot and bothered.

“I get the feeling that you’re just as desperate for more, just as I am.” When he reaches down and palms himself through his slacks, you blanch and jump up.

“Goodnight, Michael.” The man in question stands, gleefully watching as you shakily gather your things.

“Goodnight, (Y/N). Rest assured, this is not the last time we will find ourselves in a situation such as this.” Somehow, you don’t doubt that at all.

///////////////

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