#its not like. fluttery flickering if that makes sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stevethehairington · 3 years ago

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smoking has always been a good ice breaker, in eddie's opinion, a good way to get loose around someone and let all the awkward pre-getting-to-know-each-other jitters out.

so he invites steve over one day to smoke with him. it's towards the beginning of their newfound friendship, and eddie figures it'll be a good way to ease into it.

it goes well, in the sense that the joint mellows them both out enough that they're able to just talk about anything and nothing, and the ice is officially, properly broken.

eddie keeps inviting steve after that. and it's around maybe the third or fourth time they're hanging out, smoking that eddie notices it. notices the way steve's eyes keep flickering down to his lips. the way he'll catch himself and look away, but it won't last long before his gaze is back, lingering. at first eddie thinks maybe steve is just watching the joint. but when it keeps happening even after eddie has passed steve the joint, he reevaluates. eddie doesn't make a comment about it, but he does make note of it. files that piece of information away for another time.

the next time they smoke together, eddie notices it again. it makes something in his chest feel a little bit buoyant, that it wasn't just some one off thing. so this time, he lets himself look back. watches the way steves mouth wrap around the end of the joint, watches the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips, watches as he speaks, as he forms words and lets them loose. he isn't sure if steve notices or not.

it isn't until the next time they're smoking together that eddie decides to do anything about it. the joint is nearly at the end, and eddie stubs it out in the ashtray between them. steve is sprawled on his back on eddie's bed, one hand behind his head, the other resting against his stomach. he's just staring up at the ceiling, blinking slowly, basking in his high. until eddie shifts on the bed, inching closer. the movement has steve's head lolling to the side, to see what eddie's up to. they're nearly nose to nose like that, and steve doesn't flinch away from the closeness. just breathes and blinks, and then his eyes flicker, down to eddie's mouth and back up to his eyes, so quick eddie would have missed it if he hadn't been paying attention. he takes that as the permission it is, and slowly, slowly, closes the distance. his nose does bump into steve's, mouth hovering just before steve's, waiting for the rejection, waiting for the "what the fuck man?", waiting for the shove away. but none of that comes. what does come is steve's mouth, pushing forward to press against eddie's.

the kiss is honey sweet and molasses slow. it starts off a little tentative, just lips slotting together, steve's bottom lip fitting perfectly between eddie's. but then steve's mouth falls open, just a little bit, just enough, and eddie takes advantage, presses in, bites down on steve's lower lip and earns himself a fluttery gasp. his tongue eases across the bite, soothing, and licks in.

steve shifts on the bed, rolling towards eddie, and his hand comes up to tangle in eddie's curls.

there's nothing but the soft, wet sounds of their mouths together and their gasped breaths filling the room, and the low static of the record that had come to its end well before this started.

when they eventually pull apart, steve's lips are redredred and glistening, a little bit swollen and a lot enticing. eddie feels out of breath in the best way possible. there's a deep flush to steve's cheeks, and a few strands of his hair droop into his eyes. he flops onto his back, eyes trained on the ceiling once more. his chest rises and falls, quick, until it slows to normal again. beside him, eddie watches. waits for the moment to splinter - it usually always splinters.

except it doesn't. steve just props his head against his arm again and goes, "you want to smoke another?"

they do, and he doesn't say anything about the kiss. neither does eddie. it's like it never even happened.

steve doesn't bring it up, not when they see each other next, at a group outing to the wheeler's basement for board games and pizza with the kids. he doesn't bring it up when eddie swings by family video to rent a few horror flicks. he doesn't bring it up when they run into each other at the store.

so the next time steve comes over to smoke up, eddie decides to not bring it up either. whatever.

except when the joint burns down to the end this time, steve leans across eddie's torso to stub it out into the ashtray, and instead of settling back into his space on his side of the bed, he cups his hand to eddie's jaw and tugs him in for a kiss. it surprises the hell out of eddie, but he doesn't stop it from happening. does quite the opposite in fact.

and it's like, after that, a dam breaks.

every time steve comes over to smoke, it starts with a joint and ends with the two of them lazily making out in eddie's bed. every single time.

and eddie knows it's nothing more than skyhigh making out. that he's just a warm mouth for steve's drug addled mind and body to turn to. he knows that it's not anything steve would want to do if he were stone cold sober. he's not like that. not like eddie. doesn't seek this sort of thing out outside of this. eddie thinks he's okay with it. he likes steve, but he values his friendship too. and if this is the only way he can have steve without completely losing him, he'll take it. it's probably a little bit pathetic, but he can't help it.

most times they make it through the entire joint before one of them initiates, but more and more frequently, steve has been plucking the joint from eddie's fingers when it's only three quarters of the way through, or sometimes even when it's barely halfway gone.

eddie doesn't think anything of that, until there comes a short stretch of time where steve isn't able to come over for a while, and they don't get high together for like a week and a half.

steve calls to tell him that he's finally able to come over for that joint and that he'll be there later this evening.

when the telltale knock come, eddie throws the door open, holding up the joint and his lighter, a greeting and some cheeky comment about it on the tip of his tongue. but before he gets the chance to share it, steve is crowding into his space, hands coming up to frame eddie's face, and then he's kissing him.

and it absolutely knocks eddie onto his ass. metaphorically, of course. in reality, steve has backed him into the kitchen counter, pinning him there with the full press of his body as he kisses him like he's a dying man in the desert and eddie is the last drink of water.

it takes a moment for the engine of eddie's brain to kickstart again, but once it does his own hands come up to grip steve's waist, holding him there against his body, and his mouth returns the kiss, just as fervently.

when steve finally pulls back, time slows back down. the confidence steve entered the trailer with seems to recede a little bit, but it leaves something softer in its place. "hi," steve says,

eddie's head is spinning. "that was... that was some way to say hi," he laughs.

"yeah well," steve starts, shrugs, meets eddie's eyes again. "i missed you," he says, knocking the air out of eddie's chest once more.

"you missed me?" eddie repeats, like maybe he'd misheard. then adds, "or did you miss my weed?"

steve blows out a laugh through his nose and shakes his head. "i mean, yeah maybe, sure, i missed your weed too. but i missed you."

eddie wonders if steve maybe got started without him.

"dude, are you high?" he blurts out.

steve's brows furrow, and the smile on his face falters a little. he glances to the right, then to the left, and steps back, as if he'd only just realized how close he was to eddie. how he's still pressed up against him.

"i'm not high," steve answers. "why?"

eddie chews on the inside of his cheek, debating how to approach this. best to just rip the band aid off, right? "it's just... we don't," he points a finger between the two of them, "we don't really... do that... y'know?"

"do... what?" steve asks, confused or just trying to get eddie to say it.

eddie clears his throat and winces a little. "uh, kiss," he grits out. "we don't really kiss."

steve blinks at him.

"i mean," eddie continues, "not when we're not, y'know," he draws his hand through the air above his head and makes a whistling noise like an airplane, "sky high."

"oh," steve says, ducking his head, but not before eddie sees the scarlet creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

steve stares down at his shoes for a few moments, and eddie lets him, lets the silence fill the space between them until it's thick.

finally, steve looks up again. he looks worried, almost scared, like whatever he's about to say could have repercussions neither one of them may be ready for. he opens his mouth anyways. "do you... do you want that, to be something... something we do? when we're not high?"

eddie's heart jumps to his throat. he watches steve with round eyes, trying to get a read on him, trying to see what the safest bet is here. he can't fucking tell. so he puts up his shield, deflects. "do you?"

steve swallows. his tongue darts out to wet his lips. he watches eddie right back. then he kind of laughs. just a small chuckle, and it seems like he's laughing at himself, more than anything. then he steps forward, back towards eddie again, toe to toe. he still looks nervous, but there's something steely about the look on his face. steve's always been good at that. at being brave. "you have to know, i haven't exactly been coming around for your weed, eddie," he says.

and eddie's hears him, but he isn't sure he really hears him. not right away. if steve wasn't coming here for the weed then what the hell was he coming for? it certainly wasn't the riveting conversation. or the fantastic interior design. or the - oh.

his realization is obvious in the amusement that paints itself onto steve's features. and eddie feels a little ridiculous, because every time he imagined something like this playing out it was never like this. he was never the one waiting to be filled in.

he points a finger between steve and himself, the question balancing on his tongue, but steve is already nodding. and taking another step closer, back into eddie's space.

"you don't care about the weed?" eddie repeats.

"i really don't," steve says, leaning in.

"you... you want to kiss me?" eddie asks, and he feels a little dizzy from it.

"i really want to kiss you," steve confirms, breath warm against eddie's cheek.

"jesus christ," eddie mumbles, overwhelmed.

"you can just call me steve," steve teases, and his nose bumps into eddie's. "i'm going to kiss you now, if that's alright."

and it's like eddie's brain finally decides to wake the hell up, because his arms move to curl around the back of steve's neck, fingers sliding into his hair, and he uses the newfound leverage to pull steve in and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.

and as much as eddie loved kissing steve amongst the clouds, kissing him with a clear head is twice as good. it's like everything that had been muted before is now in full technicolor, crisp and sharp and so so good. steve's mouth is warm and soft, sweet and clever. his kiss sends tingles down to the tips of eddie's toes. his hands burn through the fabric of eddie's shirt, and eddie craves his touch.

when they finally part, eddie can't help the laugh that bubbles up as he knocks his forehead against steve's, resting there.

"so," he starts, tipping back just enough to properly look into steve's eyes again, "does this mean we're on the same page now?"

steve laughs too, grin splitting his face. "i'd say so."

"cool," eddie says, "really really cool."

a quiet settles between them now, but this time it isn't uncomfortable or awkward or weighted. it's comfortable, easy, punctuated with the way they're just smiling at each other, like they're both taking it in that this is happening.

and then, "so, wanna get high and make out some more?"

"fuck yeah, let's do it."

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #mack writes #macks ficlets

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silkylious · 4 years ago

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Limbo (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: bakugo katsuki x female reader warnings: heavy angst, eventual tiny bit of fluff at the end

omf this request is so nice i feel so bad that my writing is literally garbage in this, but thank you sm for requesting this!! <3 and im so sorry if i didn’t do your request justice (i legit hate my writing here :’))

To say the state of your relationship was unbearable would be the euphemism of the century.

Your thoughts often ran amuck, always hopelessly crawling back to that one despaired curiosity; wondering if he shared the same sentiment about your wishy-washy “friends” status as you did. He probably didn’t. That’s the seemingly unshakable brick wall that would inevitably dead-end your lovesick daydreams, each and every time. Though when his roughed-up hands linger on your skin a millisecond too long, when his steeled stare melts, hard rubies morphing into blazing lava pits, threatening to mar your very heart and soul with their scorching intensity –you’re not exactly certain you’d mind that– that’s when a flicker of something ignites within you. Hope, longing, doubt. Whatever it is, it terrifies you. Because you’re agonizingly aware of what that entails. He’s got you hook, line and sinker, but torturously he refuses to do anything with that. Almost like pulling someone in for a hug then abruptly and without explanation stopping midway, he keeps you at arm’s length. Not too far, not too close. And how that cycle destroyed you.

Katsuki was the type to jump into action and ask questions later. Except a lot of the times when these questions pertain to his own emotions, he didn’t even try to answer them, opting to shove them to the corners of his psyche, collecting dust, steadily accumulating until they become too much to ignore and he (sometimes quite literally) explodes. It’s a vicious loop that he could never break away from, he’d even come to find a sordid comfort in it. His coping mechanism was by no means healthy, far from it, but he’d grown familiar to the toxicity.

Katsuki couldn’t make heads nor tails of his feelings for you. Whenever he impulsively threw himself into the lion’s den that was your affection, caught in the moment, in the glimmer of genuine adoration in your eyes, he never came back the same. A piece of his heart would irreversibly split off and reside in the palm of your hand, he was scared that nothing would be left of it, that he wouldn’t be able to regain his bearings until it was too late. You so effortlessly juggled with his feelings, all with a single smile, it scared him that you had so much power over the fluttery sensation in his chest and yet, in the moment, it felt good. It felt so good to indulge in whatever fucky feeling was messing with his head, to let you hold him in the depths of obscurity with all prying eyes shut and what little words exchanged hushed. It felt so alleviating to feel skin on his own (for once not in battle), gentle, comforting but not coddling. It was unspoken between you that you were both more than friends. You knew it, he knew it. Neither of you ever mentioned it. What neither of you knew, however, was how far the other’s feelings ran.

But as high as your silent love made him feel, he crashed back down into the concrete when he was left to his own devices. Without your intoxicating scent, distracting touches fogging his rationality, Katsuki had all the time in the world to overthink. And overthink he did. His pride picked apart the delicate flowering in his heart, ripping it petal by petal until nothing was left but a garden of beautifully withered leaves, a condemnation to what he considered a weakness.

Katsuki was a taker by every sense of the word. Basking in your wispy adoration, only to brush you aside in favor of focusing on academics once he’d had his fill of your love. It was sickening.

Maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t outright confessed to him, maybe that’s what soothed the overbearing guilt that crawled up his throat whenever he saw that dejected face of yours, the one you made because of him. If your feelings for him ran deep, surely you would have said something by now, at least that’s what he thought. Or more precisely, that’s the excuse his mind conjured up in hopes of easing his conscious, trying to convince himself that self that yes, he was hurting you, but at least he wasn’t hurting you that bad. He was infinitely aware that this doesn’t put him in any sort of moral high ground, nor does it justify his actions, but, again, it was a last-ditch effort to relieve his anguish if just by a little bit, even if he knew that excuse was bullshit.

Surely he knew, there’s no way in hell someone as hawk-eyed as him didn’t notice the tyranny he held over the porcelain pitter-pattering of your heart, didn’t notice the fleeting, love-filled glances you sent his way. This was getting ridiculous, you were starting to believe he was taking some twisted sense of pleasure from your heartache, but he wouldn’t do that, right? He didn’t derive some sick kick out of having you indefinitely under his thumb, at his beck and call… right? A few months ago, you would have answered those uncertainties with a resounding “No!” defending his cruel behavior till the bitter end. But now…

Now you weren’t so sure.

And yet you still found yourself in his dorm, on his bed. It was supposed to be another study gathering, but one thing was glaringly missing. Y’know… the gathering. Kirishima was out training and he hadn’t bothered to invite the rest of his brain-dead, self-proclaimed squad. And that’s how you found yourself alone. With your best friend and secret crush. Just dandy.

Your hands were restless. Pulling at the seams of his blanket, cracking your own fingers, picking up your pencil for a brief moment of concentration, answering one or two questions only to drop it back on the mattress again and fidget some more. Katsuki wasn’t fucking blind, and your unease was ticking him off. Though he surprisingly hadn’t said a thing about it just yet, he was clearly nearing his wit’s end. His silence didn’t prevail for much longer, the meek sigh and not so subtle glance you chanced his way being his tipping point.

“What.” It came out as a statement, a demand rather than a question. What was he demanding? He hadn’t thought of that yet, his temperamental limbs already taking the wheel and pressing on the gas without a destination in mind, just being short fused for the sake of it. Was it even his place to be making demands in this situation? Katsuki knew the answer to this one like the back of his hand, a solid no.

“What…?” You really had no idea what Bakugo was expecting with a question like that. He still had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“The hell’s got you so jumpy?”

“It’s nothing…” It was a lot more than nothing, that’s for sure.

“Don’t lie to me, (name). What the fuck is up with you?” Ah, there it is again. That look. His words were as cut-throat as ever, and his mouth was still pulled into that seemingly permanent scowl. But his eyes conveyed something that was whole worlds asunder from his harsh tone. Golden brows furrowed as they usually were, though unusually upturned just the slightest bit. You despised that look. It ensured that you’ll forever be caught in his grasp, forever there for him when he never spared you the time of day.

Your lungs constricted by a force of gorgeously wretched agony. Katsuki wasn’t fair when he bared his soul to you like this, it filled you with such fervent euphoria that torrefied its way through your being, singeing your veins with luminous infatuation. And it hurt. Because you knew he’d cage himself right up as soon as the moment of vulnerability perished.

A crystalline sheen permeated your vision. This wasn’t going to end well.

“I said it’s nothing,” Your voice raised. You hadn’t meant for the words to be as frosty as they came out, but it seemed like your subconscious was utterly done with the tedium of heartbreak he keeps putting you through.

“What is fucking wrong with you? I was literally just asking why you were being so goddamn obnoxious today and then you go and make a big fuckin’ deal out of nothing!”

“Well, maybe I’m just fucking tired of giving you everything I have and getting nothing in return, Katsuki!”

Your chest rose and fell with each scalding breath that entered your lungs. The blood through your veins was pumping. Never had you been confrontational, and your sudden outburst wasn’t exactly welcome to your system. You wanted to vomit. This was not how you wanted things to turn out, you absolutely needed to leave, distance yourself from the emotional strain he was inflicting on you.

Without taking notice of the panicked glint in the cherry red of his irises, you bolted out of the suddenly claustrophobic room, leaving Katsuki to stare at his agape door before flickering his unfocused attention to your supplies still laying on his bed.

Katsuki erupted time and time again, with you being as patient as a receiving end could ever be. It’s specifically because of your godly patience that he never considered what he would do once you erupted.

With your back sliding down your dorm room door, and little friction stopping your descent, you wondered and maybe even wished he’d call after you, come banging on your door with bristling apologies on the tip of his tongue. However, the jarring reality was very clear to you. You’d decided on that day, with your head buried in your tear-stained pillow, that these were the last tears you’d ever shed on him, that you were going to put him through the same wringing hell he’d put you through.

You were going to ignore Bakugo Katsuki’s existence just like he’d periodically ignored yours.

The following week had been bleak at best and excruciatingly bitter at its worst for the both of you. It was so strange having to adjust to the absence of the other, even if your company more often than not had been a quiet one, it was company nevertheless. The most grueling part though, was your shared friend group. They’d noticed that something was obviously awry, but since neither of you said a thing about it, they decided it would be best if they didn’t either. The awkward dead silences during lunch were still purgatory to behold. But after a few more slow paced days, the sun seemed to shine bright again. For you, that is.

You didn’t realize how much of your schedule revolved around Bakugo until he was completely out of it. How much time you spent with him, dreading him, thinking about him… him, him, him. He’d consumed your thoughts from the first sparks of dawn till the hallows of dusk. You had so much free time now that he was out of the picture, it was crazy. The more time you spent on yourself, on your hobbies, getting to know other classmates outside of your immediate friend circle, the duller the ache in your chest. Until it was but a static buzz. Yet you couldn’t deny that, with time, your fury had mellowed out, leaving behind a cold loneliness you couldn’t elude whenever your aimless stare landed on him, almost like it was drawn to him by muscle memory.

He was the exact opposite.

You’d think the throbbing within him whenever you finally gazed his way then instantaneously looked in the opposite direction would knock come modicum of sense into his stubborn head. But nope. And seeing you thrive without him only cemented what he already knew. He really was no good for you. So much so that it barely took anytime for you to readjust to the lack of him in your life, and not only did you adjust, you were the best he’s ever seen you both mentally and academically. In the first week of you ditching him completely, his bruised ego kept him for reaching out to you, but now, seeing that elated grin on your face –the one that had been gradually dwindling over the past few months– he didn’t want to take your newfound happiness away, he’d figured he’d done you more than enough harm already.

Heart heavy with reluctance, Katsuki made the decision to give up on your relationship. Deciding to wordlessly cheer you on from the sidelines and watch you bloom, flourishing into the person he robbed you of being for a chunk of your life, though whenever your spring hit, it would be without him. Until some day in the future where his pride wasn’t as suffocating, where he could genuinely, wholeheartedly repent his grievances and only hope for your forgiveness.

Kirishima never took Bakugo for a quitter, hell would freeze over before he even thought such a thing. So this was certainly a shock. What was even more shocking – and overwhelmingly concerning– was the fact that Katsuki had willingly, on his own accord confided in him, and he’d, in his own roundabout way, taken accountability for being a gigantic douche to you. As much as the redhead respected his friend’s decision to stay clear of you, he couldn’t help but wish you’d just talk to one another for once. Kirishima really was a saint, having to listen to two idiots ramble about how much they miss the other.

“Listen, man. I know you feel bad and all that, but maybe you should just talk to her? I’m sure she’d like some closure on this just as you do, even if that doesn’t mean things will go back to the way they were.” Eijirou tried to reason, praying to whatever higher being out there that Katsuki would just get the fuck over himself and communicate with you.

“Fuck no. That’s not fucking happening, shitty hair,” Kirishima rolled his eyes at the oh so affectionate nickname, thoroughly done with his best friend’s melodrama. Welp, I guess there’s only one thing left to try. He heaved internally, mentally and physically preparing himself for Bakugo’s tantrum.

“Well, you know that if you won’t talk to her, others will, right? I heard some guys saying they’re gonna ask her ou–”

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t give a rat’s ass who asks her out!” He definitely did. Eijirou hid his smile. Checkmate.

“Whatever you say, dude.”

Later that day, three distinctly powerful knocks woke you up. Needless to say, you didn’t think that night would end up with you and Katsuki staring each other down, seated on your bed at one in the morning. Words got stuck in his throat, so he just… noiselessly watched your face, as if trying to telepathically ram his constipated emotions into you, in hopes that you’d make sense of them. Obviously, that didn’t work.

“Did you come banging on my door at one in the morning just to stare at me, Bakugo? I mean I know I’m pretty but still–”

“Shuddup.” Not really the best thing to say to you after weeks of radio silence. You were about to make another salty remark, but he opened his mouth first.

“I fucked up,” The fact that he was acknowledging he was at fault was… something. But that wasn’t nearly enough to pay off the debt off turmoil he’d caused you.

“No shit.” You replied without missing a beat. The ice that tinged your words caught him off guard, but he really shouldn’t have been surprised. He sighed, knowing he’d have to strip himself of everything, including his pride (especially his pride) down to his very core, to have a go at a second chance.

And so, he did.

He poured his everything out for you to observe, without an ego film distorting his words. Syllables reeked of muted agony, he really had rid himself of anything and everything that wasn’t his deepest soul. He finally offered you himself just as you had done countless times before. Katsuki swore that his heart would –and always has been– explicitly yours, he’d roar that fact at the constellations above if you so wished him to. And while it would take a while to heal from coruscating blisters he’d inflicted, you were more than content mending and welting your heart with his.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugo angst #this is so bad :'))#i kinda gave up at the end fuck #i literally hate this so much whats wrong with my writing #is it just me or does it suck idk #im going night night

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baalzebufo · 3 years ago

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those moments, sweetheart

woke up at 3am the other night and couldn’t sleep due to my brain overacting, so I decided to write it out. ended up with this saccharine kazumaji. it’s a lot more stream of consciousness than my usual stuff, but I figured someone else might enjoy it and I need to get better about posting my writing. contains two happily retired old men living on the beach together. they kiss

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But he allows it. Allows Kiryu to plant another kiss against his forehead, too. It’s a tenderness that’s foreign to him. It feels like love. Love.

---

Warm. Clammy. The heat of Okinawa sticks to him like the drip of the grape popsicle that rolls down the line of his chest. It's a suffocating heat that he still isn't used to- it's only been a month. Hopefully he adjusts. He's always been adaptable.

Majima kicks his foot into the burning sand and recoils it back to the safety of the shaded porch. The view from their house on the beach is nothing short of breathtaking, but with the heat suffocating him like this, Majima can barely open his working eye to appreciate it. He scratches the red line on his face- still working on getting rid of that eyepatch tanline. He's been wearing it less here, at least at home.

Home. The word leaves an uneasy aftertaste in his mouth, and he suckles the grape ice to wash it down, to replace it with artificial sweetness. Still it refuses to settle with him. Leaves his stomach fluttery and tossed like the waves a hundred yards from their shore. Maybe in time it will come to him- he hopes, at least.

His fretting thoughts are interrupted then by a soft yawn and the sounds of bare feet padding on wood. A shadow falls behind him and years of violence rear their head- he aches then to turn and strike before the knife sticks his ribs, to gouge and claw and show that he is worthy of the names given to him, a dog ready to bite. But he swallows that down, too. Holds himself. This is not Kamurocho. He is safe.

Kiryu lands heavy on the porch next to him, exhaling softly with the effort, still blinking the sleep from his eyes. Majima looks, runs his gaze up his body. His skin has taken to tan much quicker than Majimas- already he can see a dusting of freckles on his shoulders from the sun and Majima yearns for nothing more in that moment than to kiss them, to trace constellations between them and map Kiryu's body like an uncharted sky. He holds that urge down, too. Later, perhaps.

Instead Kiryu smiles at him through a haze of sweat and his hand finds Majimas, laying limply at his side. Fingers entangle and Majima cannot help himself. His head slumps, rests there on the shelf of Kiryu's shoulder and nuzzles. An arm wraps around his shoulders and pulls him tight. Its sticky, a little unpleasant, but welcome. Words find Majima’s tongue at last.

'Ya okay?'

Kiryu simply hums, the rumble felt in his chest. His hand creeps up to brush the back of Majima's undercut, freshly shaved. It tickles, and he squirms under the touch- headbutting the side of Kiryu's chin lightly, he snorts. Kiryu rumbles something again, and it resonates as a purr to Majima, calming him. His eye feels heavy.

'Goro?'

Oh- he hadn't even realized he was drifting. Kiryu had asked him a question and he hadn't even heard it. Majima looks down at the purple liquid dribbling down his hand from the last dredges of his popsicle. He brings it up to his mouth to lap at the sugar.

'Mm- sorry, Kaz. Ain't used to this heat. Makes me dizzy.'

'I know…'

Guilt. The unspoken sorry. Majima can't help but sense it in his voice. That tiny flicker of doubt- maybe he should never have taken Majima out of the life, maybe he shouldn’t have brought him so far from home and implored him to set aside the years of facade he built for himself. Kiryu feels selfish in this. Selfish in anything that brings him joy, really. Majima decides then and there he never wants to hear that in Kiryu's voice again- never. Never allow him to feel guilt over this. He turns to face him, and takes Kiryu's cheek in his hand.

The sight makes him wish he still had two eyes. Kiryu, glimmering and sun-kissed, his face soft and smiling. Majima used to think Kiryu couldn't smile. He's been doing it much more since they moved here. It suits him, Majima decides. His brow relaxed and the sun catching off his eyes and glittering like the waves, casting the gentle swoop of his eyelashes onto his cheeks. The faintest hint of a wrinkle, a laugh line. Majima's heart swells with something he still struggles to believe in.

'Hey. None of that.' He chastises softly, no venom in his voice. 'Got plenty of time to get used to it, yeah?' Plenty of time- all the time in the world, now. It's a prospect Majima still finds scary, living past 20. Living for anything beyond a reason to throw it all away. But nothing so scary he can't overcome it- that they cannot overcome it, together.

Kiryu smiles. There it is again.

'Thank you.'

He turns to kiss Majima’s wrist and he decides in that instance, no- and leans forward to meet his lips instead. Even feeling the upwards curl of Kiryu's lips against his- it makes him giddy. Lightheaded, and not just from the heat. The kiss tastes like grapes- it tastes like Majima. It tastes like Kiryu.

Soft and gentle, it ends quickly. Majima almost whines when Kiryu pulls away, much too used to chasing his kisses, to aggression even in his romance. But he allows it. Allows Kiryu to plant another kiss against his forehead, too. It’s a tenderness that’s foreign to him. It feels like love. Love.

Majima swells with it. Had he ever been in love like this before? He has loved, certainly- a desire for companionship, for normalcy, for something to protect. But not like this, not so fully. In such a quiet moment sat on the porch of their shared house with the sea lapping at their shore and their daughter asleep soft in her bed and their, their, their. Together. Majima had always thought himself stronger alone and only now does he see how wrong he was. They can stand alone and shoulder their burdens but together, they are unbreakable.

Kiryu runs a hand through his own hair, the sweat sticking to his forehead. He exhales heavily, and pulls himself up. Moving slow like the tide. Unhurried- nowhere to be, nothing to fear. He holds a hand out to Majima and he takes it without thinking. It’s instinctive, now.

'Let's go inside.' Kiryu says, and Majima simply nods. No other words needed, really. Hands still joined, Kiryu still smiling, grape juice still dripping from Majima’s palm. He’s home.

#kazumaji #goro majima #kiryu kazuma #yakuza #fanfiction #i need a writing tag tbh i want to post more #im way more nervous abt it than my art so i dont post 99% of it #despite the situation this was written in im quite fond of it actually #i should. make an ao3 sometime to post these properly instead of shovin em here #regardless #enjoy some very sickly sweet old men #they deserve nothing but happiness

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 4 years ago

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Silva Lining (Saul Silva x Reader) Chapter 5

Warnings: Mentions of blood/swearing

Word count: 2.2k

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-Unknown POV-

“Y/N! Y/N, wake up, it’s not your time yet. There’s much to be done! Dangers are close. They won’t be able to stop the danger without you. You must wake up, for you are the key to it all, you hold the dragon soul.”

-Saul’s POV-

“Where the fuck is she?” Saul screamed out, partly because he was in pain from his wounds, partly because he’d just seen the girl he loved fall like a sack of bricks to the ground with blood gushing from her mouth and nose. A couple of Specialists had helped to drag Saul to Mr Harveys lab, he’d been there for all of 20 minutes when he regained consciousness and started flailing around like a mad man, the only thought on his mind, you. He’d passed out when he watched you fall through the portal, only to wake up with the professor poking and prodding at his burned one wound. He couldn’t help but scream in pain, the infection spreading through his body, crawling through him like he was covered in thousands of ants. His veins black, filled with the dark disease.

“Saul, she’s fine, she’s in the medical wing, in a secluded room, i’ve had to suspend her body in a comma like state for the time being.” Farah stroked Saul’s head as he lay getting his wounds tended. She could see the pain and shock flutter across his face. “She will be okay Saul I promise, it’s just a precaution while her powers regenerate, she should be awake by the end of the day.” Farah looked at him sadly.

“You know? How?” Saul could tell that Farah knew about his and Y/N relationship, but how? For how long?

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. How long have we known you Saul? We’ve seen the way you look at her, the burning desire you have to always protect her. God, if I wasn’t mistaken i’d even say sometimes I can physically see the energy between the both of you. You’ve never looked at anyone like that in the years i’ve known you, not once.” Ben smiled and Farah frowned. Saul couldn’t believe that both of his friends knew and yet, they hadn’t done anything about it.

“Please Farah, i’m sorry, I never wanted to keep it a secret, I didn’t meant for it to happen, it just did.” He placed his hand over his heart, worried that now the secret was out, things were about to change and not for the better.

“Mate, you don’t have to worry, your secret is safe with us. We just want you to be happy, you can’t help who you love.” Ben finished cleaning the wound and helped Saul lay down fully, patting him on the shoulder.

“I need to see her, Please, you should have seen what she did out there, it was scary, amazing, i’ve never seen anything like it before. She looked so fragile Farah, please I have to see her.” Farah patted Saul on the hand, explaining that Y/N needed rest and so did he, it wouldn’t be a good time and a good thing for him to see her the way she was. He tried to fight it he did, but before he could fight any more, the medicine Ben had given him started to kick in and the world faded into a blur of colours and objects and eventually, nothing.

-Your POV-

You groaned. What a weird dream you’d had. Your eyes flickered catching glimpses of a fluttery sparkly, silver force surrounding your body, then they closed again, your body still tired from your excessive use of magic.

They opened. Again, the same fluttering force surrounded you, it felt almost warm, powerful, like a battery, charging you, regenerating your life force. The sky outside was lighter now, but your eyes still fluttered, closing for a second time, your body still not ready to awaken.

It was light again by the time your eyes opened all the way and open they stayed. The fluttering force field of energy was replaced by black tendrils of your magic wrapped around yourself like a cocoon. You reeled them back in and winced as you sat up, your throat dry like sandpaper. You saw movement from the corner of your eye, then a glass of water was handed to you by a familiar pair of hands. Silva. His eyes were still tinted with black, he looked tired and his face was pale. Taking the water you drank greedily then set it to the side, you couldn’t help the sob that escaped your lips, Silva moved you over and lay down on the bed with you taking you in his arms, you didn’t fail to notice the wince he gave when he lay down. He was still infected. He was your safety blanket, your safe haven, your home and he was dying.

“How long was I out? How long has it been?” Saul kissed your hair, his other hand tracing circles on the skin exposed on your hip.

“You’ve been in a coma for a week Y/N, I thought i’d lost you, Farah said you would have been awake by the end of the day, when you didn’t come round, we feared the worst.” He nuzzled your hair with his nose, breathing deeply, holding you a little tighter, happy that you’d finally woken.

“You’re still infected? Why haven’t they killed the burned one yet.” You sat up slightly craning your neck to look at Saul, he sighed and his head fell into the crook of your neck.

“Sweetheart, the problem is a lot bigger than we initially thought, there wasn’t just one burned one, there’s a whole group of them.. fighters killed one this morning, but as you can see, it wasn’t the one that got me.” Your jaw clenched, gritting your teeth to hold back the tears.

“I won’t let you die Saul, you can’t leave me, you’re all I have in the world.” Your arms wrapped around him tighter and you snuggled down, listening to your mans steady heartbeat.

-Later that night-

After the morning spent with Saul, after him telling you that Farah and Ben knew about your relationship and they were going to keep in hush hush, you were given the all clear and were aloud to leave the medical bay. It hadn’t taken long for you to get roped into going to the Specialists party, and you couldn’t help but notice the stares and smiles people gave you in the hall, which you later found out was a new found appreciation for your powers and the fact you saved Silva from a worser fate.

The party was in full swing but you didn’t feel like drinking, just incase anything happened to Silva, you wanted to be able to help if it came to it. He had reassured you that he would be spending the evening with Farah and Ben, reminiscing about the days when he trained at Alfea, telling you that he was one that started the annual Specialist keg party, but that was apparently a story for another time.

Looking across the crowded room, you noticed Sky wasn’t drinking either. He was looking around, then caught your eye, suddenly making his way towards you. All of a sudden you were scooped up into a hug, by the taller Blonde guy. You laughed shocked and awkwardly hugged him back.

“You saved him, you got him out of there, thank you.” You smiled. “I always knew there was something between you two, he never shuts up about you, you make him so happy.” You blushed.

“God it seems that everyone knows about us when we were trying to keep it a secret the whole time, is it really that obvious?” He laughed and shook his head, his har falling in front of his eyes slightly.

“No, only the people who know Saul best, so now that me, Headmistress Dowling and Prof Harvey know, I think your secret is safe.” Sky leant against the brick wall, taking a look around the room, a slight frown on his face. He still had a lot on his mind. Stella was across the other side, she noticed the two of you talking but all she did was raise her cup and nod in your direction, knowing that nothing would ever happen between you and the guy she loved.

“Y/N, he’s dying you know. You’ve been out for a week so you won’t have been able to see the difference. He was better at the start, he’s just gone down hill from here. He didn’t want me to tell you but he tried to tell me goodbye earlier, just incase things went wrong, he didn’t want to worry you. We have to do something.” Well shit. Way to ruin the party mood you thought. Your heart felt like it was squeezed in a vice, your stomach tied in nots and all the air seemed to leave your lungs. It was really that bad? You knew that something had to be done, and that’s when you and Sky came up with your plan.

It was around midnight when you met Sky at the edge of the barrier. Accompanied by Bloom? You didn’t ask.. the more the merrier you guessed, you needed all the help you could get and you knew that for some reason Bloom was able to sense the Burned Ones near, it was like having your own sniffer Fairy, you snickered to yourself which landed you strange looks from the pair.

To say you were nervous was an understatement, you’ve seen first hand what the masters are capable of, but you also knew how much you were capable of, your powers sometimes making you feel untouchable. Bloom had lead you into the middle of the woods, she could hear it. It wasn’t until you saw the red eyes and heard it’s cry that you jumped into action. The three of you were pushed back, you hit the floor with a thud, the wind knocked out of you.

“Close your eyes!” Stella? You turned and caught a glimpse of her before you closed your eyes. Even behind your eyelids you saw the forrest come to life with the light of Stella’s powers. Great, now it really was the more the merrier, you should have known that your roommates would come to the rescue, you were grateful, but you also feared for their safety.

Stella and Musa helped you stand while Bloom hit the monster with the force of of her fire powers, Aisha hit it next sending the thing crashing to the floor where Sky finished it off with his sword. You winced, noticing you’d bumped your head on a rock when pushed back, blood matted in your hair, but you’d live.

“I don’t think its dea-“ Musa started but never got to finish her sentence when the burned one burst into pieces. You all turned slowly when you heard the pissed off voice of Headmistress Dowling.

Walking back in silence was weird. You still had a shit eating grin plastered on your face though. What if this was the one? The one that had got Saul. He’d be saved. You practically ran with Sky when you got to the barrier. Both of you walked cautiously through the green house doors, Ben was taking off Sauls bandages, you felt like you’d been holding your breath for hours. Letting Sky go in first, you felt a little dizzy, so tried to catch your breath.

“You are an idiot, a stupid, impulsive, reckless idiot!” Well, he sure did sound like the old Saul you know and loved.

“Is it better?” Sky asked in a frantic voice. You held your breath again. At this rate, you’d be able to give Aisha a run for her money at swimming with the amount of breath holding you had going on.

“Don’t smile at him” Ben laughed as Saul told him off and you peaked your head around the door to see Saul and Sky hugging. Happy tears ran down your face, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You coughed a little to gain their attention. Saul’s face flickered with a load of emotions, anger, surprise, happiness, love… then worry as he noticed the blood matted in your hair.

“I had some help.” Sky pat Saul on the shoulder and left the room, giving your shoulder a pat too. Ben noticed you and took it as his cue to leave and give you both some much needed privacy. Then it was just the two of you.

“Before you say anything I know it was stupid I know, I just couldn’t stand back and watch you die!” You’d barely pushed yourself off the edge of the door before Silva was in front of you, hand on the side of your face, drawing you in for a kiss that made you almost grateful that you didn’t have wings because the feeling he gave you in that kiss, would have had you soaring up into outer space.

“So, you’re feeling better then?”

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Okay so I feel like this is slightly filler? IDK. I just hope you guys enjoy it, I can't believe the amount of support i’ve been getting over this story... im so grateful you don't even know! Let me know what you think in the comments... what you think should happen next, what you like/don't like.

Chapter 6 pt1 ------- CLICK HERE

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lifeofkaze · 4 years ago

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An Art of Balance #34

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: The penultimate chapter everyone, can you believe it? How far we’ve come together. Just as a little heads up, I will be uploading the last chapter of this story (🥺) in one go with the epilogue. So if you happen to see the epilogue first, know there is a ‘little’ (totally not little) chapter still waiting for you.

Thank you to everyone who let me borrow their OCs, I did a little round up of everyone in this chapter. Lizzie’s wonderful friends are belonging to:

Katriona ,KC’ Cassiopeia: @kc-needs-coffee

Judith Harris: @judediangelo75

Ira Janda, Julian Bennett: @slytherindisaster

Azariah Steele: @cursebreakerfarrier

Henry McClarnon: @thatravenpuffwitch

Also massive thanks to my favourite girl @the-al-chemist for helping with the structure and reading over. You know I love you 💛

Word Count: ~ 5.600

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Chapter 34: Victory

“Hufflepuff is this year’s reigning Quidditch champion!”

Murphy hadn’t even finished shouting into his megaphone when Skye, Lizzie and everyone around them erupted into screams of joy. Skye flung her arms around Lizzie’s neck, hugging her mid-air, half sobbing, half shouting “We did it! We did it!” into her ear over and over again. Lizzie didn’t even have any words to articulate the rush of emotions running through her all at once. She felt euphoric, happy, exhausted and unbelievably relieved that her plan hadn’t backfired on them. Syke was right, they had really done it.

They had won the House Cup.

Still hugging and jumping up and down on their brooms, Lizzie and Skye were slowly drifting downwards, landing roughly on the soft grass. The impact almost knocked them over but they couldn’t care less. They were basking in the cheers coming from the hollering stands, their grins so wide their cheeks were hurting.

Lizzie could see Skye’s father and Professor Sprout giving them standing ovations and even Professor McGonagall was clapping, albeit not as enthusiastically as the rest. Murphy was beaming from ear to ear, remaining silent for once and letting the team have the full attention of the crowd.

One after the other their teammates were landing next to them. Lizzie found herself hugging Judith and even Everett in her enthusiasm; all of their animosities were forgotten over the raw joy of achieving their incredible last minute win. In this moment what had happened wasn’t important anymore; the only thing that counted was that they had reached their common goal and the Cup was theirs.

And then, all of a sudden, Orion was there, his eyes shining with pride and a beaming smile on his face. He swept her into an embrace and spun her around, neither one of them caring the slightest bit what anyone else might be thinking. Lizzie was laughing as she held onto him, feeling nothing but elation; she couldn’t imagine a more perfect moment.

Orion sat her down and Lizzie was swaying for a moment, feeling slightly dizzy from being spun around, too much sunlight and the feeling of Orion’s arms around her. Still smiling, he raised his hand to her face and cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her flushed skin. The expression in his eyes was so soft as they found hers, the butterflies exploding in Lizzie’s stomach seemed to fill her up completely; the fluttery feeling combined with the adrenaline rushing through her body made her feel as if she was still flying.

He opened his mouth to say something when a sudden movement to their side made both of them turn their heads; Judith and Skye had sneaked up on them and were on the verge of upending a giant barrel of butterbeer over their heads. Lizzie tried to move out of its way immediately, but Orion quickly got hold of her wrist and pulled her back.

“You’re staying right where you are,” he laughed before the ice cold liquid was hitting them. Lizzie shrieked and closed her eyes as the butterbeer washed over her face and found its way down the back of her jersey. She buried her face against Orion’s now soaked Quidditch robes and could feel the vibration in his chest as he laughed. She couldn’t help her smile widening as he held her even closer.

“I knew you could do it, Chaser,” he whispered against her hair.

Lizzie pulled away and smiled up at him; a light giggle escaped her as she was taking in their drenched state. “We did it all together.”

Orion gently brushed a strand of wet hair out of her face. “As a team.”

She covered his hand resting on her cheek with hers, her eyes finding his again. His long, dark hair was just as soaked as hers was, but he obviously couldn’t care less. Lizzie’s eyes flickered down to his lips for a moment; the soft smirk forming on them made her hold her breath. Her wish to kiss him right here and now was close to overwhelming.

But before she could give in to it, her gaze flicked over Orion’s shoulder to where she could see the members of the defeated Gryffindor team lying in the grass. The misery they were radiating was a stark contrast to their own overjoyed celebration.

She could see Julian comforting a broken looking Henry; Azariah was lying on his back, staring into the sky with a blank expression and the two Chasers were silently talking between themselves, shaking their heads in disbelief.

Charlie was sitting apart from them; his head was hanging low, his windswept red hair obscuring most of his face. The rest was hidden his hand covering his eyes, while the other was still clutching the Golden Snitch, that was gleaming in the sunlight.

The sight of her friend's devastation felt like a jab to Lizzie’s heart. Her face twisting with sympathy, she placed a hand on Orion’s chest and gently pushed him away. He followed her gaze with a slight frown, before he nodded in comprehension.

He inclined his head in Charlie’s direction. “Go to him; he is in need of a friend right now.”

Lizzie knew she should go and it wasn’t like she didn’t want to; she just didn’t want to let go of Orion again so soon. Sensing her hesitation, he gently nudged her forward.

“Go,” he repeated. “We’ll have our moment later.”

Finally breaking free of him, Lizzie walked past her teammates and towards the Gryffindors. She stopped by every one of them for a moment, either trying to cheer them up or offer some words of comfort. When she reached the lone figure of her best friend, she stopped and knelt down beside him.

“Hey.”

At the sound of her voice, Charlie raised his bleak eyes to look at her for a moment. “Congratulations, I guess,” he managed to croak out before hanging his head again.

“Thank you,” Lizzie answered sincerely. She put a hand on his forearm, squeezing it gently. “You put up an incredible fight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this before.”

Charlie shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe it. “Didn’t help much, did it? You won, we lost; there’s no way of talking around it.”

“It could have gone down either way; it was a matter of seconds.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I can’t believe I caught the Snitch only one bloody moment too late.” He choked out a bitter laugh and held the golden ball up for her to see.

“Looks like it’s me who gets the consolation prize in the end.”

He looked past her to her laughing teammates. “What are you doing over here anyway, champ? Don’t tell me you’re ditching your team for us moping lot?”

Lizzie sat down next to him onto the grass and nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m ditching my team for a friend who could use a bit of comfort right now,” she responded with a smile.

Charlie’s eyes trailed from her towards the Hufflepuffs again, who were busy hoisting a laughing Orion up on their shoulders.

“Even him?”

She had followed his gaze and nodded. “Even him.”

Charlie huffed but gave her a small grin, nonetheless. “That means a lot, Liz, thank you. But you deserved to win this time; you more than anyone.”

Lost in thought, Lizzie had been watching Orion celebrating with their friends. It was only now that she saw Charlie had been watching her in turn. Not sure if he was still talking about the match, Lizzie blushed a deep scarlet that almost matched Charlie’s robes; her flustered state made him grin mischievously.

“You’d better watch out though, pineapple,” he teased her, “there’s always next season. I’ll be damned if I let you defend that title; we’ll make sure the Cup gets back to where it belongs.”

Happy to see Charlie’s fighting spirit return, Lizzie dipped her head back and laughed. “Not if I can help it, Weasley!”

She scrambled to her feet and offered Charlie her hand. “Do I see you at the party later?”

It was a tradition to celebrate the closing of the Quidditch season with a big outdoor event down by the Black Lake. Generally considered one of the highlights of the years, it wasn’t only for the members of the winning House but for everyone in the school. As it was the last chance to have a bit of fun before the stress of their exams would take up all of their focus, most of the students had been looking forward to it for weeks.

Charlie, however, didn’t seem too thrilled at the prospect. He looked Lizzie up and down with a sigh.

“Would you accept a ‘no’ for an answer?”

“No,” Lizzie chuckled.

“Then I don’t think I have a choice, really,” Charlie smirked before wrapping his arm around her shoulder to march her back to her team. “I’ve got to celebrate my favourite badger girl, after all.”

Lizzie was probably one of the last ones left in the castle when she was finally able to make her way down to the lake. The sunlight had turned from bright to golden and was painting the landscape around her in an alternating pattern of light and shadow.

After the potion Ira had given her had worn off, the bone crushing hug from a sobbing Penny had made the pain of her injury flare up again with full force. When her knees had buckled from the sharp sting, Orion and Ira had been adamant she’d go to the Hospital Wing at once; her ribs had hurt too badly for Lizzie to even consider objecting.

Madam Pomfrey had been miffed when she had checked her up, muttering something about “This bloody Quidditch business” under her breath. To Lizzie’s relief, Ira’s initial assessment had been right and her ribs weren’t broken after all.

“I’d much rather you’d have come straight to me, Miss Jameson,” Madam Pomfrey had declared sternly. “Teenagers,” she had sighed,” always think they know better.”

She had been watching Lizzie reproachfully while preparing the ingredients for another painkiller potion, which was supposed to get her through the night.

Before she had left, Lizzie had made sure to check up on Brian; as it turned out, he wasn’t allowed to leave the Hospital Wing due to a mild concussion. He was miserable about not being able to celebrate with the rest of them, but otherwise he seemed to be alright.

“Kiss the Cup for me, will you?” he had asked her with a laugh as she had been about to leave.

Lizzie’s answer had been cut short by the scolding look of Madam Pomfrey, who had appeared by Brian’s bedside. “I thought there was an event you were desperate to attend, Miss Jameson,” she had chided her, albeit with the hint of a smile. “If you don’t want to spend the night here alongside your friend, you had better leave now before I change my mind.”

As she was walking along the path that would lead her to the Black Lake, Lizzie was enjoying having a little time on her own. It was a welcome change to the busy moments after the match, when her housemates had flooded the pitch and congratulations had been passed all around. It gave her the opportunity to let everything sink in.

They had won; they had really, actually done it.

Her team had come out on top; even after all the mess that had been going down this year, they had managed to get a grip and pull each other through. Lizzie felt overwhelmingly happy; never before had she been so proud of her team, of Skye, of Orion, even of herself.

She remembered the feeling of weightlessness when Orion had picked her up and spun her around; neither of them had cared about anyone else in that moment and it had felt so right; today, everything was feeling right.

Lizzie smiled to herself as she reached the shoreline, an unmistakable bounce in her steps. Whatever the evening might be bringing, she was looking forward to it; she had earned the right to just enjoy herself for a change.

When Lizzie heard two voices calling her name, she slowed her steps and turned around. It was Andre and Charlie, undoubtedly headed into the same direction as her. Tapping her foot in mock impatience, she waited for them to catch up.

Andre smiled brightly when they reached her. “Look who it is, Charlie.”

“The reigning Quidditch champion,” Charlie continued, now in a decidedly better mood after he’d had time to stomach the match. “May we escort you to your victory party?”

Both boys went up to either side of Lizzie and linked arms with her as they marched her along. She had to giggle at their overly solemn expressions.

“You may,” she laughed. “But why are you so late?”

Charlie rolled his eyes and jerked his head in Andre’s direction. “Someone needed to get dressed properly.”

It was only now that Lizzie noticed the giant badger on Andre’s blue shirt he was wearing under his jacket. She raised her eyebrows in astonishment and chuckled.

“That’s a really nice gesture, Andre, but that’s not quite the right colour.”

Andre merely shrugged, however. “I’ve got to uphold some housepride at least or else Erika might kill me.” He glanced down at his newest design. “That one’s risky enough as it is.”

As expected, the party was already in full swing when they arrived. Several stalls had been set up at the shore of the Black Lake and the houselves had given it their all to provide them with delicious food and drinks. They were all centred around a giant bonfire that was blazing brightly in the slowly descending darkness of the evening.

The stalls were decorated in yellow and black banners, as were the comfortable looking seats that had been grouped together all over the place. The image of the Hufflepuff badger was a common sight wherever Lizzie was looking. To add to the atmosphere, numerous strings of fairy lights had been put up in between the branches and down the stems of the trees.

The place was packed with laughing and chatting students; Charlie and Andre went to get something to drink and Lizzie found herself wandering around the site, looking for any sign of her friends.

She spotted the familiar strawberry blond head of KC over to the side of the bonfire. She was sitting in one of the cushioned garden chairs with a bottle of butterbeer in her hand. Her head was dipped back in laughter at something Rath had just said; knowing the tall blonde girl, it had undoubtedly been some wry remark about the course of the game.

Where KC was Murphy was never far and sure enough, he was lounging in the chair next to her. He was gesturing wildly towards the two girls with sparkling eyes, confirming Lizzie’s suspicion that they were indeed still talking about the match.

Sitting next to Murphy, Orion was attentively listening to the ongoing discussion. He was looking as deeply relaxed as Lizzie had ever seen him. As if sensing someone’s attention being on him, he turned his head. As their eyes met, a smile tugged at his lips and he motioned for her to join them with the smallest movement of his head. The shift of Orion’s focus didn’t escape KC; she nudged him with her foot before bending over to him and whispering something into his ear, making Orion laugh and shake his head.

Lizzie felt a smile forming on her face. There was nothing she would have liked more than heading over to her friends right now. For the first time since she had arrived at Hogwarts last September, she felt completely certain of what she wanted; it was as if reaching their shared goal today had cleared her mind of all the doubts that she had been carrying with her.

But there was one thing she had to do first. Although it was incredibly hard to do, she turned her back on her friends and scanned the crowd for a different face.

After a moment, Lizzie spotted who she had been looking for; through a gap in between several groups of people, Lizzie could make out the familiar figure of Rowan. She was on her own and - just like Lizzie herself - she seemed to be searching the crowd as well. When their eyes met, they started walking towards each other.

“I’ve been looking for you!” both girls exclaimed simultaneously when they had reached each other, before they burst into laughter; it felt easy and carefree, almost like it used to be.

“Congratulations on winning the House Cup; you were amazing!” To Lizzie’s surprise, Rowan hugged her tightly. “Penny, Tonks and I were almost dying watching you play; what a match!”

A touch of worry flickered over her face as her eyes dropped to Lizzie’s ribcage, where the Bludger had hit her. “How are your ribs? Ira told us they’re bruised pretty badly.”

“She’s right, but nothing’s broken or anything,” Lizzie shrugged. “Madam Pomfrey gave me another painkiller potion for tonight, but it will probably hurt like hell tomorrow.”

Lizzie didn’t want to talk about her injury right now. She thought about how the whole school must have seen Orion embrace her after the match; Rowan must have done so, too. Lizzie was sick and tired of this ridiculous fight with her; she wanted to sort things out with her friend once and for all.

She took a deep breath. “Listen, Ro, we need to talk.”

Much to her surprise, Rowan responded immediately. “Yes, I know. That’s why I’ve been looking for you; I wanted to apologise.”

Lizzie had already opened her mouth to reply when her brain registered Rowan’s unexpected words. Not knowing what to say, she blinked in confusion.

“You want what now?”

Rowan’s gaze dropped to the ground and she rubbed her arm uncomfortably. “When that Bludger hit you and you were hanging from that banner, I was so scared for you,” she muttered quietly, her eyes still trained on the tips of her shoes. “I mean, we all were, of course; Penny even nearly cried. But Orion was there to help you immediately and even from the Hufflepuff stands you could see how afraid he was for you.”

Rowan raised her eyes to meet Lizzie’s. The different emotions shining in them were hard to pinpoint; it was a mixture of sadness, resignation and, strangely enough, something resembling relief.

“And seeing the two of you after the game was over…” Rowan’s voice trailed off and she swallowed the lump in her throat. “It’s just so obvious how much he cares for you.”

Lizzie slowly breathed out, not quite daring to believe what she was hearing. “So you’re not mad?” she asked tentatively. “I promised you to stay away from him after all.”

Rowan sighed. “Yes, and you did. I’ll be honest with you, I really thought if we could just pretend like none of this had happened, it would make me feel better; and maybe even make the two of us better again, too. I was so hurt and angry at you; you are such an admirable person, Lizzie, so many girls want to be just like you,” Rowan sniffed and her voice broke slightly, “I just didn’t want you to have him on top of it.”

Lizzie felt her own voice becoming breathy. “You don’t have to be like anyone else, Ro; you’re perfect just the way you are.”

But Rowan shook her head and pressed her lips together. “No, I’m not. I deliberately hurt you to feel better about myself. But it didn’t work, I only felt bad for asking something horrible like this from you and making all of us unhappy in the process.”

Her shoulders slumped as she hung her head. “I acted like the worst friend imaginable, I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Lizzie asked incredulously. “If anyone should apologise, it’s me. I never should have risked our friendship like I did, I should have been honest with you from the beginning.” She laid her hand on Rowan’s arm and smiled when she lifted her head again. “Believe me, Rowan, no matter what you think, you’re always important to me.”

She hesitated to go on and gathered her courage before she continued. “But Orion is, too,” she said timidly. “It’s not for show or about wanting to be with someone I’m not supposed to be with. I really care about him.”

“I know,” Rowan sighed and pushed her glasses up her nose, “I guess I was more intrigued by the idea I had of him than by him himself.”

An encouraging smile formed on Rowan’s face. “But you, Lizzie, you know him, the real him. Not the Quidditch captain or the guy who loves broom balancing and nebulous answers, just him. And believe me, you matter to Orion as well, anyone can see that; you two belong together.”

Not knowing what to say, Lizzie took a step forward and threw her arms around her best friend’s neck. “Thank you.”

She was more than relieved when Rowan returned the hug. “What for,” she laughed before letting go again. She placed her hands on Lizzie’s shoulders, turned her around and pushed her forward.

“Now go and find him before I change my mind.” Rowan’s eyes swept over the crowd and a concerned frown appeared over the top of her glasses. “I need to check on Tulip and Tonks, they were talking about tinkering with some firecrackers earlier.”

She adjusted the Prefect badge on her jumper, gave Lizzie another smile and quickly vanished in the crowd. Lizzie watched after her for a second before she turned around as well.

Just as she started walking towards where Orion was still sitting with their friends, Penny jumped on her out of nowhere grabbing her arm.

“There you are!” she squealed. “Where in Godric’s name have you been?”

Lizzie wanted to reply but didn’t get a chance before Penny forcefully dragged her towards a big group of people standing close to the central bonfire. She was constantly babbling with excitement. “He is here, Lizzie, can you believe it! Ethan Parkin is here. At our victory party! This is incredible, he is incredible, all of this is incredible!”

She tugged at Lizzie’s arm impatiently. “Come on now, he has been asking about you several times already!”

As they were approaching the huge crowd that had gathered near the blazing fire, Lizzie could make out Ethan and Skye standing at its centre. The House Cup was sitting next to them on the grass, its silver handles decorated with black and yellow ribbons. The giant trophy was coming up higher than Skye’s knees; when Madam Hooch and Professor Dumbledore had handed it over to Orion at the ceremony on the pitch, Lizzie had been able to see how he had momentarily struggled to lift it over his head; Lizzie and Skye had only managed to do the same when they had tried it together.

Now, Skye was glancing down at the Cup every now and again, still unable to believe she had finally achieved what she had dreamed of ever since. Her father, on the other hand, paid the glinting trophy no mind; his hand was resting on Skye’s shoulder, his face beaming with pride. He was talking animatedly to his awed onlookers; Lizzie could see Skye was blushing and trying not to roll her eyes. She sighed inwardly; Ethan Parkin was probably talking about his favourite subject: himself and his illustrious adventures with the Wigtown Wanderers.

But when Penny pushed them through the crowd towards the front, Lizzie was surprised to hear that Ethan Parkin wasn’t gushing about his family’s club after all; instead, he was recounting the course of their match in such painstaking details it could have put Murphy to shame. He took a special joy in painting all of Skye’s free throws, goals and special manoeuvres in the brightest colours to the adoring masses; her last move in particular had him bursting with pride.

“If you ask me, that Keeper stood no chance from the moment she got her hands on the Quaffle,” he was declaring just now. “It’s a special technique my Skye has, Parkin family secret, of course; just knew she wouldn’t fail her shot.”

He interrupted his monologue and his eyes lit up as they discovered Lizzie. He nudged Skye with his elbow.

“Look who’s here, Skye; seems like we finally found your missing mate. Wondered where you might be at, lassie.”

Lizzie motioned to her ribcage. “I had to go and get my ribs checked.”

“Aye, that one looked like it hurt. I know what a Bludger to the rips feels like, but let me tell you, a good player always pulls through, no matter what.”

He clapped a heavy hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “Well done, lass, you did a fine job out there. You lot can learn from this one,” he proclaimed to his fans, still squeezing Lizzie’s shoulder. “Takes some strength of character to recognise when your teammate’s abilities are greater than your own; right decision of Lizzie to pass the Quaffle to Skye, it was the key to their victory.”

Like Skye before, Lizzie was trying not to roll her eyes. “If you say so, Mr. Parkin.”

“How often do I need to tell you, call me Ethan.”

Lizzie smiled noncommittally. “At least one more time, Mr. Parkin.”

He laughed jovially and turned to his fans again, recounting some other detail of their match; Lizzie wasn’t even listening anymore. Using her father’s distraction, Skye took her chance and pulled Lizzie away from the crowd for a moment.

Looking back over her shoulder, she rubbed her neck in embarrassment. “Sorry dad’s so enthusiastic. Don’t listen to him boasting about me, you were smashing today.”

“As were you,” Lizzie smiled.

A smug grin stole onto Skye’s face. “Yeah, we did quite a good job, didn’t we?” Seemingly out of nowhere her expression turned serious again. “But don’t you think I don’t know what you were doing.”

Out of nowhere Skye nudged Lizzie’s shoulder, maybe a bit more forceful than she had meant to.

“Ouch! What was that for!

Skye ignored Lizzie’s complaints. “You were at your favourite distance for that last goal; you always make that shot.” She set her index finger onto Lizzie’s chest to accentuate her words. “Don’t you ever dare to risk a win like that again, you hear me, Jameson?”

Before Lizzie could say anything in her defence, Skye had hugged her tightly. “But thank you anyway.”

Lizzie grinned when Skye abruptly let go of her only seconds later. “What’s that now, Parkin? Are you going soft on me or what?”

Skye huffed and laughed out loud. “You wish, Jameson!”

With a last genuine smile at her friend, Skye returned to her father’s side. Lizzie couldn’t help but smile to herself taking in the scene. Despite all the pressure he had put his daughter through, knowingly or not, Ethan was now looking down at Skye with overwhelming pride; Lizzie wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Skye being happier than in this exact moment.

She stayed with the Parkins for a little while longer until Lizzie felt it wouldn’t be impolite to leave anymore. She was tired of Ethan’s constant droning, even if it was about Quidditch.

Lizzie was impatient to finally get her chance to talk to Orion now, but when she turned to the place her friends had been occupying earlier, she found it deserted; none of them was anywhere to be seen.

Not really knowing what to do, Lizzie started aimlessly strolling around the party, hopping from group to group, chatting with all sorts of people here and there.

So many happy faces were smiling at her as she moved through the crowd, congratulating her and clapping her on the back. Even her Gryffindor friends were seemingly enjoying themselves in this cheerful environment.

Lizzie could see Azariah laughing with Charlie and Andre, his arm draped around Ira’s shoulder; the curly haired Hufflepuff had her head resting against him and smiled from time to time. A bit further on, Julian and Henry were joking with each other, both raising their butterbeers in her direction when they saw her walking by. Sitting a little more secluded from the rest of the crowd, Lizzie could even spot Judith and her boyfriend Talbott; she was surprised to see the evasive Ravenclaw boy make an appearance at such a busy place, but then again, judging by the adoring looks he gave his girlfriend, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Judith.

Upon seeing all of her friends so relaxed and happy, a warm and fuzzy feeling was spreading inside Lizzie’s chest. As she leaned against a tree and took a sip of her butterbeer, however, she couldn’t help but feel a bit lost without having one of her own close friends to talk to.

Completely lost in her thoughts, the sudden sound of a familiar voice close to her ear almost made her jump out of her skin.

“Looking for someone, Chaser?”

Turning around, Lizzie found Orion standing behind her with a smirk on his face. Trying to ignore her wildly beating heart, Lizzie broke into a smirk of her own.

“What makes you think I’m looking for someone?”

“Aren’t we always looking for something or the other?” he responded casually, but the smile on his lips was mirrored in his eyes..

“I guess you’re right,” Lizzie mused, “but the someone I’ve been looking for is rather hard to catch tonight.”

Orion laughed quietly, the warm sound making Lizzie’s heart skip a beat. “I take it you’re drawing from your own rich pool of experience. You’ve been as elusive as a beam of sunlight this whole year; always visible, but impossible to get hold of.”

“Well, here I am.” She sighed in mock exasperation and rested her elbow on Orion’s shoulder. “But alas, the one I was looking for isn’t.”

Orion chuckled, clearly unimpressed by her teasing. Lizzie fought to not lose her composure as she felt his hand on her back, his touch giving her goosebumps all over.

“Is that so?” he whispered into her ear before drawing back again. “I fear you’ll have to make do with me.”

Lizzie tilted her head and grinned. “I think I can live with that.”

The atmosphere between them felt different; even when they had been nothing but friends, they had never spoken to each other in such a light, teasing manner before. However, this new dynamic felt completely natural. All the tension and strain that had hung between them for the better part of the year had vanished into thin air; Lizzie was loving every second of it.

Her breath hitched as she felt Orion adjust his hand on her back, his fingers grazing lightly over her spine.

“In fact,” he conceded, “Rowan mentioned you were looking for me.”

Surprised, Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “She did?”

Although Rowan had said she was alright with it, Lizzie was still glad to see that she had actually meant it. The thought of not having to lie to anyone anymore felt wonderful and strange at the same time.

“I’m as surprised as you are. I take it, the two of you were finally able to make peace?”

Lizzie sighed with relief. “Yes, neither one of us was what you’d call a perfect friend lately.”

Orion’s smile grew softer. “Perfection is a matter of perspective, isn’t it?”

Unable to think of a witty response, Lizzie’s cheeks blushed a deep scarlet and her eyes dropped to the ground. The atmosphere had shifted yet again, and she could feel the butterflies dancing in her stomach; she wasn’t entirely sure whether they were stemming more from nerves or excitement.

She was spared an answer, however, when a high, whistling sound suddenly cut through the air, directly followed by a mix of shrieks and laughter. The unmistakable cackling of Tonks and Tulip was clearly discernible above it; Lizzie recalled Rowan’s concern about seeing them meddling with some firecrackers.

Unimpressed by the commotion, Orion shot her a sideways glance. “What do you say, let’s leave the crowd to themselves and their fireworks for a bit?”

Lizzie tore her gaze away from the colourful sparks erupting over where the two troublemakers were undoubtedly working their magic and smiled at him.

“Sounds like a good plan, Captain.”

They left their spot under the tree and moved through the crowd that was flocking towards the commotion. Orion was walking in front of Lizzie, quickly gaining ground on her as the stream of people was thickening.

Breathing in deeply, Lizzie gathered her courage and lightly placed a hand on his arm before he was out of reach.

“Wait for me, will you?”

Orion looked back over his shoulder and waited for her to catch up with him. When she was closer, Lizzie let her hand travel down from where she had touched him to his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. Her heart was beating frantically as she felt the slight pressure of his fingers against the back of her hand.

Neither of them saw the surprised looks they were attracting as they broke free from the crowd, nor the badly contained smiles of their friends as they passed them. And even if Lizzie had noticed, at this very moment, she couldn’t have cared less.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #orion amari #rowan khanna #skye parkin #charlie weasley #lizzie jameson #aob #art of balance #the quidditch squad #penultimate chapter #can you believe it #I still can't believe it #get ready for the final one #I cried writing this chapter #surreal

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three-gulons-in-a-trenchcoat · 4 years ago

Note

Okay but imagine Sophie and Keefe being forced to hide out in like a little storage closet for hours to avoid the Neverseen or their parents or something. The whole time they have to snuggle up together and he is just relentlessly teasing her because he can sense her emotions and knows she is enjoying the cudddling

The Great Gulon Incident 2.0

words: 3.3k

[notes: this is a long one! really really sorry that this took so long to get out but it's here now! I really like how this one turned out :) although the title isn't very creative heh]

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“We shouldn’t be doing this”

Sophie had mumbled those words under her breath at least five times at this point, but this time it seemed to catch Keefe’s attention. He glanced over at her, a smirk resting across his face.

“Aw come on Foster, live a little! Tell me the last time you pranked someone, especially Forkle.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, eyeing the bag he had slung over his shoulder wearily as it jostled around, “You should be more careful with those.” she hissed, “have you forgotten you're carrying around live, stinky bombs?”

Keefe snickered quietly, making his footsteps softer as they neared the Foxfire gates, “Don’t worry, I know how to handle these guys, I happened to learn a few from the supposedly very handsome boy who caused the Great Gulon Incident.” He winked as he said the last part, and Sophie scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Keefe had hailed her last night, asking if he could leap over for some “important business”. Sophie had been expecting something more along the lines of actually serious but learned that he instead had wanted to snag some of the gulons that were residing at Havenfield.

“And why exactly do you need ten gulons Keefe?” she had asked him, raising an eyebrow.

Keefe resembled the look of a pouting child as he twiddled his thumbs, “It's been ages since I’ve pulled off a good prank Foster,” he whined, “I think I'm going through withdrawal! The least you can let me do is led a few stinkers for the cause.” His eyes resembled a cute baby alicorn, and Sophie felt her resolve slowly chipping away.

Eventually, she threw her arms up in the air, sighing loudly, “Fine” she grumbled, holding up a finger when his face broke out in a wide grin. She tried to ignore the flickering flame in the back of her chest, itching to cause mischief, but ultimately gave in, “You only get five gulons, Keefe…. and I want to come with you.”

Keefe grinned wider, if that was even possible, and quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, leading her to her desk, “I’m so glad you agreed to help the cause Foster!” he brandished a notebook out of thin air, “Now let me show you the plan….”

She was snapped out of her memory when Keefe shoved the sack of gulons at her, nearly knocking her off balance.

“Ah- sorry, I just need to unlock the gate” Keefe quickly apologized as he pulled out what looked like a keycard and swiped it over a sensor next to the doors. He tugged the hood of his black cape over his eyes and face, stepping in front of Sophie slightly as if to block her from view.

“What's wrong?” Sophie asked, frowning when Keefe all but shoved her into the doorway and through the large crystal halls.

“Sorry,” he said again, “There are security cameras hidden behind the large pillars.”

Sophie smirked, “How did you manage to figure that out?” she asked, handing him back the bag of gulons.

Keefe huffed quietly, “I found a map of the security cameras when I was pulling a prank on Dame Alina last year.”

“You really think far ahead in your plans,” Sophie remarked, following Keefe down the hall. She could have sworn his ears turned pink, but that could be a trick of the light.

It wasn’t long until they reached Magnate Leto’s office, and Keefe used another keycard like before in order to get inside. His face seemed to light up slightly as he untied the cord and gently opened the top of the bag. He leaped back quickly, gently tugging on Sophie's arm as the creatures toppled out of the bag, looking very disgruntled.

One of them let out a large burp, emitting a green-gray gas that had Sophie curling her lip and coughing slightly.

“Come on,” Keefe said, tugging her back slightly, “This is the part I wouldn’t stick around for.”

Sophie let Keefe drag her into the hallway, a giddy feeling settling inside her gut as Keefe shut the door, rather loudly.

They locked eyes, and Sophie felt a laugh bubbling up in her throat, Keefe seemed to have the same problem. Sophie clutched her stomach as a giggle made its way up out of her mouth, she quickly slapped a hand over it, her eyes wide. Keefe laughed at her expression, nearly doubling over.

“Come on.” he wheezed, grabbing her hand, making her blush slightly, but she was too busy trying to contain her laughter that she didn’t pay any attention to it.

They raced down the twisting halls, letting their laughter out freely as their footsteps echoed around the crystal halls.

They slowed slightly, still giggling quietly. They didn’t even notice that their hands were still entwined.

Then Sophie heard it.

Footsteps.

They froze at the same time, fear flashed across Sophie's face, and Keefe's eyes darted around, looking for an exit as the footsteps drew closer. They couldn't run towards the footsteps, but they also couldn’t run back where they came, since it would bring them back to the very stinky office.

In desperation, Keefe yanked Sophie towards the first thing he saw as the elf rounded the corner, closing in.

He covered her mouth as she let out a quiet yelp, pressing her against the wall of a supply closet as he dragged the door shut with his foot. They both flinched when it clanged loudly next to their ears.

Sophie locked eyes with Keefe, who has hunched over her rather awkwardly, trying to keep one hand over her mouth, and one over his own to stay silent.

“Are you certain you heard footsteps?” A voice asked, and Sophie's eyes widened at the same time as Keefe's. They knew that voice.

“I also heard laughter.” Lady Zillah said, and Sophie could hear her walk closer towards their door, the shadow underneath the crack growing larger. She glanced at Keefe, who had panic pacing in his eyes.

“Maybe you just thought you heard something,” Tam said through a yawn, making the shadow stop, “I mean, it's almost dawn, shouldn't we be locking up for the night aways? I’m getting pretty tired.”

Lady Zillah sighed, and Sophie inhaled sharply when the shadow grew slightly closer.

The mentor turned away, “Fine, but we are practicing even more tomorrow night got it?” Sophie breathed out harshly, hearing Keefe do the same.

“Whatever,” Tam grumbled as the footsteps silently retreated deeper into the school, presumably towards the gates.

Keefe finally let his hands fall away from both of their faces and Sophie took a deep breath of air, blinking a couple of times to adjust to the darkness.

“That was close.” They both said at the same time.

Keefe slightly huffed with laughter, nudging past Sophie to get to the door, “We’re lucky we weren't caught” he admitted as he reached for the handle, “It would've been worse than The Great Gulon Incident.”

“Ah, so are you finally admitting that you were the one who did it, Keefe?” Sophie asked teasingly.

She waited for him to reply, but he stood frozen, his hand on the doorknob.

“What's wrong?” Sophie asked, just now noticing how small the supply cabinet seemed. A bad feel brewed in her gut.

Keefe turned slowly, slight panic, with a little bit of guilt etched across his face as he sucked in a breath, “We may or may not be locked in a supply closet.”

Sophie felt her face drop, and she rushed past Keefe (which only took about a step) and tried to turn the doorknob, but to no avail.

She let out a puff of laughter, partially disbelief, that she had somehow ended up in this situation, with Keefe of all people.

“You alright there Foster?” Keefe asked, his breath ghosting along her neck, making her shiver.

She remembered hearing about a game that humans would play. Seven Minutes in Heaven, where they would lock two people in a closet like the one they were currently stuck in, and in seven minutes those two people could do anything they wanted until the time was up.

She pushed the thought out of her mind quickly before Keefe could notice her shift in emotions. He raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to say something.

“Can’t we just bust down the door with telekinesis?” Sophie said quickly, her voice slightly more high-pitched than usual. She cleared her throat, her stomach dropping when Keefe shook his head.

“Two things,” Keefe said, holding up his hand with one finger raised,“ One, these doors are made of a crazy strong metal, like, as thick as the doors at Luminaria, that's why it was so loud when it shut, and before you ask, no, I have no idea why the doors are so thick, they just are.”

“Second,” he said, holding up a second finger, “The security here recognizes when a door is unlocked, or when a door is, ya know, exploded from the inside.” he mimed an explosion complete with sound effects and Sophie rolled her eyes.

It fell silent, and Sophie stared at the ground, “So” she hedged, “We can’t get out of here.”

Keefe shook his head, “Not until morning, all of the doors unlocked at around six, which is normally when all the mentors arrive.”

Sophie dragged a hand down her face, trying to ignore the panic and sudden other emotion she was feeling.

Embarrassment maybe? No, that didn't seem right, it seemed almost fluttery, and she tried to stamp out the feeling before Keefe felt it, but she saw his eyes flicker.

She swallowed thickly.

“Are you sure?” her voice squeaked slightly, and she cleared her throat quickly.

Keefe's eyes seemed to glow slightly in the dim light, and it was then that she realized how small the supply closet was. Sophie and Keefe's feet were touching, even though they were on opposite walls.

“Oh, I'm sure,” his voice had dropped an octave, and Sophie felt her cheeks flush. He moved slightly, pushing himself off the wall and positioning his leg in between hers as he leaned next to her ear, caging her in with his elbows braced against the wall behind her, “What's wrong, Foster? I’d say you almost seem nervous.” his tone was different, deeper, it lacked its usual teasing tone.

Sophie found it difficult to breathe, and when she did take a shaky breath, it didn’t help, because all she got was a lung full of Keefe.

He smelled cool and minty, almost like the peppermint bark that her human family used to make around the holidays, with a hint of the ocean, no doubt from the white foam waves that he said he swam in every morning. Sophie suddenly felt herself imagining what he would look like after swimming in the water, with his hair flat against his head, and sweat curling around his jawline and his shirtless chest-

STOP! her mind screamed, forcing herself to shred the image from her brain and frantically trying to stop her emotions from getting even more out of control.

She could feel his breath hot against her neck and she shivered as she felt his lips curl into a sly grin. She forced her eyes to look dead at the wall in front of her, certain that if she glanced at Keefe, things would definitely go south, not that Sophie would be complaining-

Stop. her mind growled again, more firmly, as if bating this other, more feral Sophie with a wooden bat into a dark corner of her mind. Shoo! Come out later, when you’re not stuck in a supply closet with one of your closest friends who can also tell what you’re feeling at all times.

Keefe's right hand came up to her hip, and she shivered again, partially from well, the fact that his hand was on her fucking hip, and partially because the supply closet was getting really cold.

“Are you cold?” Keefe's voice was right next to her ear, allowing her to hear that he had a deep timbre to his tone that Sophie had never noticed. And she’d be lying if it didn’t make her legs feel like they turned to jello.

“Y-yeah.” She breathed, hating how she stammered.

Keefe pulled away from her, and she naively thought that it would better, now that she could actually breathe and not inhale his intoxicating scent.

But oh how she was wrong.

Because when Keefe pulled away, she could see his eyes, and his jaw, and his biceps, and his lips, and she hated how her eyes quickly dropped to his lips. But could you really blame her?

Yeah, feral Sophie got another smack with the bat.

She shook her head, pulling away slightly as Keefe removed his hands from the sides of her head. He kept his leg between her thighs, and Sophie pretended not to notice as she shivered again, hoping the cold could be blamed for the pink on her cheeks.

“I told you to bring a cape, Foster.” The teasing tone was back and Keefe finally, finally, took a step back, removing his leg from between hers.

She actually felt like she could breathe again.

“I didn’t think we would get stuck in a freezing supply closet.” Sophie retorted, bringing her hands around her chest, looking away.

Keefe sighed softly, and Sophie glanced at him right as he draped his cloak over her shoulders, pinning it in place with her Ruewen crest that she carried everywhere, even if she wasn’t wearing a cape.

Keefe said something after that, but it was drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Because if she thought that Keefe leaning over her in his scent was overwhelming, she severely underestimated what being wrapped in his cloak would do to her.

She didn’t realize what she was doing until she did it. Bringing the hood to her nose, she took a deep whiff, savoring what his scent felt like in her nose. And wow, she had never felt this safe before.

She snapped out of it suddenly. God Sophie, what are you doing? furiously trying to act like she was trying to warm her nose and not try to sniff his cape like a fucking weirdo.

She glanced at him.

He stared at her, a mixture of amusement and- was that almost pride? No, it couldn’t be that. Sophie felt her face turn pinker. To get away from her mounting embarrassment, She chose to look away from what was causing it.

“W-Why are the supply closets so cold at night?” she asked, blaming the slight stumble in her words as an act of the cold as she averted her eyes from his piercing blue ones.

Keefe blinked, wrapping his arms around himself right as Sophie realized how cold she must have just made him.

“Foxfire gets cold at night normally, so it's not like I didn’t expect this, which is again, why I told you to bring a cape.” he gave her a pointed look and Sophie scoffed.

She was about to reply when a full-body shiver racked Keefe's torso, making him clench his teeth.

She frowned, beginning to unclasp her crest from the cloak.

“You don’t have to-”

Keefe was cut off when Sophie stepped forward and flung half of the cloak over his shoulders. Sure it was slightly cramped, and it caused Sophie to be squished into Keefe's shoulder, but she wasn’t exactly complaining.

Keefe stood stiff for a moment, then very gingerly wrapped his left arm around her waist, pulling her slightly closer and causing the cloak to cover her more. He bent his legs, tugging her down slightly so that they were now sitting on the floor, and unfortunately for Sophie’s poor little heart, in a very compromising position.

Sophie was sure her face was practically maroon as she awkwardly straddled Keefe’s lap, and she looked anywhere but him as he readjusted the cloak.

“You can turn around if you want,” Keefe said softly, his ears slightly pink, “It would probably help the cloak to cover you better.”

Sophie nodded mutely, shifting around in the blond's lap until she was sitting comfortably against his chest, her racing heart didn’t slow down as Keefe stretched out his legs, almost touching the other wall, and let her do the same until they were practically miming the same position.

Keefe's hands were still on her hips, and she could feel her skin burning from underneath the thin fabric of her tunic.

“Is this ok?” Keefe asked, his voice was softer then she had ever heard, and he sounded slightly unsure of himself.

“Yeah, this is fine.” granted, it came out a little more breathy than Sophie was hoping for, but hopefully Keefe couldn't feel how fast her heart was still pounding in her chest.

But oh how he could.

Keefe was eternally grateful that Foster didn’t manifest as an empath. Because if she did, he would be screwed.

His heart felt like a stampede of mastodons as Foster shifted again, bringing her legs slightly closers to her lap, which caused her to fall further into Keefe's torso.

Over the years of living with his father, Keefe had learned how to hide his emotions behind false smiles or jokes, and right now he was grateful that Foster didn’t turn behind to look at him. And he prayed to whatever god was up there, that she couldn’t feel his hands shaking as he readjusted the cloak again, shamelessly giving her more of the fabric for her to curl closer into.

And he’d be lying if he wasn’t absolutely preening at the way Foster looked in his cloak. Pride swelling in his chest as she sighed slightly, seeming to get over her initial embarrassment and burrow into the folds of the black coak.

Of course, there was the other part of his brain, which was screaming over and over, HOLY FUCK YOUR CRUSH IS IN YOUR LAP THIS IS A ONCE IN A LIFETIME CHANCE WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST STARING GO KISS HER YOU ABSOLUTE DUMBAS-

“Keefe?”

He hummed slightly, and Sophie could feel the vibrations from where she was curled on his lap.

“How long do you think we’ll be stuck in here?”

He shrugged,“ at least for a couple more hours I’d guess.”

She felt his head lean forward, and she squeaked when his hands came around her hips instead of tucked into his side. He hesitated for a second, and she felt her face burn, trying to ignore the fact that they would be in this position for a few more hours.

Suddenly she felt his chin on her shoulder. His breath fanned across her right ear and cheek. Sophie fought not to shiver because she doubted Keefe would believe her if she told him she was still cold.

“Why?” Keefe questioned, and Sophie could hear the timbre of his voice again, vibrating next to her ear.

A voice in the back of her mind told her that she should be on the other side of the room, frantically trying to hide her flustered emotions from the empath, but…

She sighed, leaning her head against his, feeling his eyelashes flutter next to her cheek as she closed her eyes, “Just wondering.” she mumbled, a small smile creeping onto her face as Keefe pulled her slightly closer under the cloak.

Keefe echoed her smile, tugging her back against his chest and bringing his hands across hers. A slight blush tinged his cheeks, but he could feel her emotions against his chest, and they were…

Flustered, yeah. But also… calm, and almost, soft.

Exhaustion pawed at the teens. And Sophie found herself burrowing further into Keefe's chest. And Keefe found himself curling closer into Sophie.

They could deal with the aftermath of this prank later. Right now? They were comfortable, warm, and happy.

____________________________

#sokeefe #sophie foster #keefe sencen #kotlcprompt #kotlcwriting #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kotlcfanfic #kotlcfanfiction #ask #ask me anything

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purg2tario · 4 years ago

Text

sparks - megumi fushiguro

megumi fushiguro x gn!reader

in spite of how much he loved you, he knew pushing you away would keep you safe.

lowercase intended! word count: 3800

fic playlist on spotify: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Qc6oUOFiWYKj9syyt9BQ1

- thank you so much to @oumashuui on tiktok for beta reading and editing this fic, i wouldn’t have finished it w/o you <333

if it were any other day, he would’ve ignored you. he did it for your own wellbeing – or, at least he liked to tell himself that, - and he didn’t see any real problem with keeping you at arm’s length. with the lives you both lead, one of curses and bloodbaths with the safety of humanity resting on your shoulders, it was better this way. he could see you every day, still. he could see you and know in his heart that he felt this chain keeping you two together, he would never leave your side as long as he had a choice, he would never sever that tie and try to escape from your company. you were just there, just close enough that he could protect you and yet far enough away that the chain dangled, far enough away that he felt he could keep you in his life without ruining yours. it wasn’t that he believed he would treat you badly or that he would ever even try to harm you; it was that he thought that with him, you would be stuck, that chain would no longer be your connection, it would become a prison. you could never be free and spread your wings, become as great as he knew you had the potential to be, if you were tied down by the hindrance he perceived himself to be. he would only hold you back, because you cared too much... he cared too much too, so much so that it was better to keep you his friend and alive than keep you all to himself and risk losing you, losing it all.

he wanted to stay with you, but how could he?

he only dreamt of softly pressing his lips against your forehead, holding you close to his chest and telling you how deeply he cared, how he would never let anyone, or anything, hurt you and how he would love you for forever and the endless days that would follow.

“well it’s sweet that you remembered the recipe,” you stated, holding a rice ball as maki and inumaki continued to eat quietly. they evidently didn’t have much of an opinion on the recently deceased friend, itadori.

“sweet, but when did he even teach you this?” nobara added, quirking a brow at megumi, who until then had been spaced out, stoically sat as he remembered yuji, pondering your previous remark. it took everything in him to keep his smile to a polite and non-ecstatic one. still. even still, he couldn’t help the wistful tone that flickered in his voice when he replied.

“does it really matter? i cooked it and his recipe is still delicious, we’re just remembering him,” nobara rolled her eyes and kept her mouth set in a tight line for a while, not wanting to press the subject too hard. she knew how the blow of itadori’s death hit the three of them, especially megumi. he watched him die, an incident which she was falteringly grateful to have not been a part of.

megumi glanced back at you, who was now joining the tree kyoto sister school sorcerers in silently enjoying the food he’d served. something was oddly reassuring about watching you eat. it meant you were taking care of yourself, keeping yourself strong and healthy, keeping yourself alive. a calming warmness fell around him - knowing you were okay meant everything to him.

a profound, guttural feeling of absolute adoration for you kept him anchored and as level-headed as he seemed to be. you were here, not risking your life fighting off roaming nightmares that crept out from under his bed, born from the trepidation of losing you to a monster he could not save you from.

________________

you weren’t on a mission, and at last, there was no immediate cause for concern for a brief moment. you could all breathe, finally nobara could go and sightsee as she wished to, everyone could release the weight that had unknowingly tensed their shoulders and relax their fists for one afternoon. nobara wandered the streets of tokyo, watching them through her phone as she held it in awe, recording every building and photographing every inch of a market she found. meanwhile, you put some time away for megumi, you wanted to keep his head up and keep him thinking as positive as possible. he and itadori were good friends, from what you had gathered. he always seemed to only talk to you as much as he needed too, enough to not seem rude or like he wanted to escape you. as disheartening as it might’ve been, it didn’t stop you from being friends with everyone else. it wasn’t exactly by choice, if it wasn’t for them first approaching you it would definitely be a different story.

“you want to go where?” megumi frowned, tentatively glancing out of the window as if he was checking that he wasn’t going insane, and it really was the middle of autumn. “it’s freezing...”

“i know that!” you stitched your brows together in back at him, insulted that he thought you were that incompetent. “it’s not like we’re going swimming! just for a walk...”

he quirked a brow, “you want to travel all the way to the beach, get on the train and everything, just for a walk?” at this point megumi knew how suspicious he was being. they’d been to the beach not too long ago, at this point his desire to be away from her was coming on a little too strong. his eyes briefly caught your features and for a moment his heart ached, the slight look of defeat gracing your expression sent his gut whirling. you nodded, deflated by his rejection. it stung in a different way to what you were used to with him. this impaled you straight to the core, why was he being so stand-offish? every chance he got he would turn you down, but you two would speak daily and seemed to be friends... it’s like he was only talking to you out of courtesy, not because he wanted to.

maybe he was too polite for his own good, he couldn’t even be clear of his own feelings toward you.

“meet me in the city,” he suddenly said, stopping her dead in her tracks. she whipped around to face him, a bewildered and unnaturally happy gleam to her eyes. but he was already walking away, down the hallway until he turned a corner and swiftly disappeared from sight. it was almost cool, and left you in awe, until his tousled black tendrils appeared once more, and his midsummer midnight eyes properly met yours for what might’ve been the first time ever. “specifically at sendai nights, the restaurant, uhm, please,” and with that, he was gone again.

for a moment you stood perfectly still, catching your breath at the moment that, for you, still hadn’t passed. he met your gaze. you saw him, and he saw you. had that ever happened before? he’s always looking at the ground, or at least anything that wasn’t you. he didn’t even do it when he shook your hand at your first meeting. perhaps it was just a him thing? but even so, he saw you.

________________

“thanks for meeting me,” you turned to see megumi approaching you from behind. he wasn’t in his jujutsu tech uniform, it was replaced with a loose jacket over a hoodie and shirt. he was still clad in black, though, so it wasn’t too shocking. what did seem unusual, however, was his lack of eye contact again. perhaps your encounter earlier that day was a fluke. the moment never left your mind though, recalling how you sank into those deep inky pools resembling the ocean at night in a manner of seconds. a fluttery, almost uncomfortable feeling hadn’t shifted since he’d left you in the hallway, standing statuesque as you tried to register everything that’d happened.

“technically i invited you out,” you remark, “you just changed the plan a little,” megumi’s breath formed a cloud in front of his face as a short laugh escaped him. he looked down at the sloping street he’d just climbed to meet you, and nodded in its direction. you followed him as he turned to return to the bottom of the hill and make your way to the train station. “but you’re welcome,”

something warm snaked between his arm and side, and megumi looked to find your arm linked with his, his hand in his pocket and yours gently holding his elbow. your tentative grip gave away your hesitance, if not how you were trying to keep your body as far away as possible while keeping your arms interlocked. his face softened, you didn’t need to do him any favours to try to make him feel comfortable. with you, he was at his calmest, he felt as if he could take one step upward and float through the air. almost like that one movie you loved so much, the one with the sorcerer who walked through the air with that girl. he didn’t really pay too much attention to the movie, his focus was on you and how happy you looked. he wished that you could stay like that forever. he could only wonder whether you could ever be that happy if you were with him.

“aha, sorry, i’m just cold,” you awkwardly chuckle, further loosening your grip on him. all of a sudden, before he could think about what he was doing, he’d clamped his elbow down on yours, firmly but tenderly pulling you into his side and into his warmth. his body heat immediately eased your shivering.

“don’t apologise, y/n...” he began to say, keeping his eyes firmly on the street in front of him. with you so close his senses were heightened. this, the way you were, how close you were, sent him into a frenzy - every passer-by was suspicious and he couldn’t get rid of the thought that he never wanted to let you go.

reaching the station wasn’t long, in theory, but to two individuals silently walking arm in arm and barely breathing as to not disturb the peace, it took forever. standing on the platform with megumi positioned only a few feet away as you sat on the bench behind, both of you awaiting your train, the air was thick and icy. neither of you had spoken a word since he told you not to apologise, for a minute you wondered if he was secretly a cursed speech user. that idea soon faded as you watched him scouting out the train tracks and surrounding platform, his eyes on everyone else standing in close proximity except you. it was as if he was searching for something, someone, and that any sudden movements would send him flying in rage. with his eyebrows stitched together, a worrisome look ghosting his eyes, he looked quite beautiful, if you were being honest.

the train arrived after a while, and still neither of you spoke a word, you spoke in nods and slight hand gestures. you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t nice to just silently enjoy his company for a while, as usually the two of you would have the world on your shoulders and your lives on the line but now, you could just be together. which is all you both wanted, whether you were aware or not.

“i’m sorry if i sounded demanding earlier,” the silence was broken, “it’s just me, aha,” his apology was met with silence, except the gentle rock and roar of the train moving from station to station, “but, i, really you don’t have to apologise, i don’t mind...”

“don’t mind because you want to link arms with me or don’t mind because you’re being polite?” you wondered. megumi’s face suddenly contorted in confusion. oh no, had you said it out loud? more questions arose as he shifted slightly closer to you on your shared seat, his arm lifted and coming toward your face. you closed your eyes, tight, thinking maybe when you opened them he would be in the same seat as before and not saying anything.

the closer he loomed, the more your heart pounded. his hand reached the beanie you were wearing, and from it he retrieved a crispy fallen leaf, one that must’ve fallen onto you when you were making your way to the station. a brief and partly forced laugh left you as you tried to focus on the leaf he retrieved and not on how close he was to you, and how he was staring at the side of your face. to him, every curve of your side profile captured him, you were like an art piece in a gallery. he may have stared too long, as he noticed your somewhat sudden uncomfortable demeanour.

“you know,” he said, almost in whisper, “i don’t want to make you feel that way, uncomfortable i mean, i just, it’s not my intention...” your face softens at his words, which he automatically mirrored, “i just, you’re nice to look at, is all...”

“for someone who hadn’t looked me in the eye until a few hours ago i find that hard to believe,” you found yourself speaking words without meaning to, though you found you weren’t embarrassed. you could say anything around megumi, that’s just how he made you feel. he did seem taken aback, though, until he laughed it off. little did you know it was only to keep the awkwardness at bay from such an upfront question.

he knew what his answer was. the rest of the journey to the beach, the two of you kept talking quite a bit, to both of your surprise, but not a single second passed that megumi didn’t drink everything in about you. as every second passed, his walls were lowering but it was as if you were already clambering over them at your own pace. he supposed you probably were intrigued by him. how could he fault you for that? he did keep himself a mystery from you, for your own safety.

_______________

your train finally fell still at the station. just as the doors gave way to the fresh air of the coast so close by, megumi took your hand in his, a brave move on his behalf, and led you out and down the stairs to the street below. with your hand in his, you could feel how rough they were. intricate scars riddled his palm and fingers - despite them, his grasp was gentle and made your chest tight; you’d never felt safer in such damaged hands.

he looked back to send you a reassuring look as he pulled you through the crowds of strangers, him being the only familiar face, his hands being the only ones you could trust. he looked at you then, his inky eyes piercing into yours. you couldn't help but think - you’d never seen such dark eyes with so much light in them. under fluorescent street lights the two of you navigated your way to the coast, until finally you saw the horizon, the sun bathing the ocean waves and the sparse clouds in dappled sunlight. you instinctively squeezed megumi’s hand in excitement; a quick glance down and megumi found your hands completely interlocked with no hopes of wiggling free. it was perfect. his eyes trailed up your arm until he met your mesmerised face gazing into the distance. his heart rapidly beat against his ribcage, every thought was slurred by the intoxicating idea of you, just holding and being near you was enough to send his mind racing.

“oh my god,” you whispered, entranced by the exchange of light and glittering waves before you, an oil painting for a sky above you, it were as if you were trapped in a dream. your head turned, a wide and breathless smile gracing your lips, and for a second time you met megumi’s eyes. your smile faltered purely out of embarrassment, you were so unbelievably close and the distance only seemed to grow smaller by the second.

the feeling was so strange; it stretched throughout your whole body. it was overwhelming, yet made you feel complete. it had no bound nor length nor depth; it was simply absolute. it felt as though you were engulfed in flames, yet you were completely safe at the same time. it felt as though someone has given you peace. it felt as though your heart was dancing around your chest; and a hole, you were never aware was there, had been filled. you felt so light, like you’re on top of the world yet your heart is constricting and it feels as if there’s no oxygen in your lungs.

your lips meet, your eyes close, and time stops.

in the moment of the kiss you both were your purest and most vulnerable selves.

in your embrace the world stopped still on its axis. there was no time, no wind, no ocean crashing into the land. megumi’s mind was at peace. how could it be that he hadn't felt your love for what it was before? pure. unselfish. undemanding. free. now, he felt it all crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. it was gentle and heavy all at once, almost as if you were releasing it all at once. he felt your body press in, soft and warm. ths was the love he'd waited for, prayed for. he inwardly thanked whatever force had brought you together and hugged all the tighter.

breathless once more, you pulled back finally, “oh my god,” you whispered, again. the two of you laughed, never letting the other go from the embrace you’d found yourself in. megumi made eye contact, and your heart ached, that wasn’t going to lose its effect any time soon. he gently stroked your cheek, his thumb caressing it with a touch like a butterflies wing. he suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself, you were both entangled and the closest you’d ever been.

“what happened to keeping you safe?” he wondered, helpless to the urge to kiss you again and again until he couldn't anymore. looking at you then, everything was clearer than it had ever been before, it all took on a newfound clarity, as if he’d been watching the world through a smoke screen until that moment. what’s different? what’s changed and left him completely unable to keep his feelings at bay any longer? every question he asked himself only caused more to arise. until finally you snapped him out of his thoughts, pressing forward and tenderly grazed your lips against his cheek, and it was as if you knew how he was feeling; like you could hear every question flowing through his mind. somehow, you could feel his whole being twist with the sudden mind numbing fear that he may have just ruined everything.

“y/n…” he started, eyes tracing your wistful face. everything about you seemed to have changed. “i.., i thought that by pushing you away i was keeping you safe… we, we fight curses everyday together, risk our lives, and look what happened to itadori! i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you the same way,” by then the two of you had separated, you were walking toward the shoreline. he looked back to see you intensely staring at the ground, as he tried to push out the thought that perhaps you were laughing at him and were trying to hide it. “but i’ve realised, i, uh… i’ve realised that maybe i don’t have to,” you whip your head up to look at him, he’s still looking at you and he’s waiting for you to catch up. even in the most insignificant ways, he was always there for you - he wouldn’t go anywhere without you anymore. he wouldn't - no, he couldn't. he needed you by his side.

“what do you mean?” you ask quietly, now strolling down the shore, hesitating but longing to hold his hand. megumi stared out ahead of him, not quite sure if he really was brave enough to look you in the eyes when he said it. if he could fight and exorcise curses, he could look someone in the eye and tell them how he really felt.

“i want to keep you safe and protect you no matter what,” he stated, “and i don’t want to do it from afar anymore…” he stopped in the sand, his body tensed and mouth dry, and offered out his hand in spite of how clammy he could feel it getting. your eyes didn’t leave his for a second as your fingers brushed gently over his palm, until they tangled with his and the two of you tightly bound yourselves to one another. it felt right. “i want… i want to be by your side, for as long as you’ll have me…”

“everyday is the same… i see you and i keep falling in love with you, each time is harder than the last. every time the feeling gets deeper, more profound. there isn't a thing i wouldn't do to keep you safe. ” his gaze is now set on the horizon, the sun nestled behind the waves. you haven’t spoken yet, or even moved since he started speaking. now, he was well and truly petrified of facing you.

“but what about you?” your voice tears his focus from the ocean. there you were again being selfless. he questioned what you meant, but his thought was interrupted by your voice cutting through the air once more. “what about you? you’re talking about keeping me safe but what about you and your safety? i care about your safety too, it’s not just you…”

had he been unintentionally selfish? he hadn’t even considered how you might’ve felt about his well-being. he was so dizzy with his love for you that he had only thought about whether or not you would reciprocate his feelings. “i, i didn’t think about that…” he admitted, now somewhat ashamed. your shoulders dropped, of course he didn’t. he worried too much about you to focus on himself.

“i know… but, i mean,” you clutch his hand reassuringly, which seemed to startle him, “if you really do plan on staying with me forever, then i suppose i can worry about you, if you won't worry about yourself.” the corners of your lips turn upwards, and he sighs with intense relief. everything about him unbound itself and relaxed completely in your clasp. your free hand chose to roam his ivory cheekbones and into his navy curls. he smiled crookedly at you, with eyes that were somewhat glossy, but he withheld the urge to cry quite well; instead opting to kiss you once more.

#megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #gn!reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jjk #megumi gif #jujutsu kaisen fic #megumi fushiguro fic #sparks by coldplay #x reader #anime #fluff

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scullydubois · 4 years ago

Text

Only the Light: Ch. 21

Hello, here is my ‘I didn’t plan for updates to take two weeks, but it always works out to two weeks’ post, right on time. Almost finished with this journey, thank you for sticking around <3

As Mulder helps care for his ill partner and her child, he enlists the Lone Gunmen to investigate the circumstances surrounding Scully's diagnosis. He and Melissa pay a visit to the three men, then Mulder gets an unwanted surprise back at apartment 42.

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

As Scully’s world has shrunk, the amount of love in it has grown. This is small consolation for the hell she’s enduring, but it is the only antidote. She realizes this now that she’s staring down the abyss: all the knowledge in the world won’t save you, and wealth is nothing but a false comfort. What will live on are the parts of herself she’s left with others. Her goal for her remaining time, however long that may be, is to hold tight to those she loves...not to slip away until her heart stops beating.

This is hard when she already feels like less of herself. She’s doing chemo twice a week at Georgetown, and it’s brutal. She knew it would be...her only other choice is to get that gravestone of hers re-engraved.

Meanwhile, Mulder pushed all other work aside to get in contact with the Mufon women. It only took him one day to do so, but Scully doesn’t know that, and for now, she doesn’t need to know. He’s keeping what he’s learned so far to himself...Betsy Hagopian is dead and has been since shortly after Scully saw her. Penny Northern is sick and not responding to treatment. A handful of other women, abductees like Scully, have developed rare cancers too.

It’s not something he knows how to talk about, such despondency. His world has always hinged on hope. That’s what his work on the X-Files is to him, one big leap of faith toward his sister. Or was, before Scully came along. It’s not that she diverted him from Samantha...no, she turned a very personal quest into something larger than him. Or her, or any one person they worked with. She pared it down to its core value, its overarching mission: the truth. Because the truth may hurt at first, but given time, it heals. And it is the only path to healing. This is what he’s learned from her. And now, he’s got to do everything he can to pass the revitalized world she’s shown him onto her.

The arrangement falls into place without any friction: Missy handles the chemo run on Monday mornings, and Mulder leaves work early on Thursdays. Emily spends Mondays with her grandma, and Thursdays too when Missy works the night shift.

Thursdays become something of a spiritual day for Mulder. The hours of approximately 3-10pm are spent doting on his partner--in her apartment, and then his car, then the hospital and his car again, and finally, back to her apartment. Mama Scully brings Emily back around eight, and if Missy’s not home, Mulder gets the honor of the bedtime ritual. The domesticity of it all tethers him to reality, maybe for the first time in his life. He’d give anything to change the circumstances, but it’s humbling to feel--for once--that he belongs on Earth.

It is on one of these Thursday evenings that Mulder could swear he feels his whole life trailing behind him, leading him to the present. The end of the year is creeping up in its usual fashion, which means the outside world is a blanket of darkness before the stoves of countless suburban homes have even been started. Having settled her comfortably into bed with a pile of pillows, Mulder carries his partner a glass of water and pulls the wastebasket to her side; this is their routine now.

“You doing okay?” he asks, lingering as she takes a sip of water. It will soon be time to make himself scarce so she can sleep.

She nods, gurgles a garbled affirmation. Mulder turns to go, and her heart leaps to her throat. “Will you stay?” she spews, embarrassed by her need.

“Of course.” She’s unaware, apparently, that when he leaves it’s for her, not him. He approaches her bedside, lowers himself carefully beside her knees. “Any particular reason?” he murmurs, examining the sunken spaces beneath her eyes.

“I just...wanted to talk to you,” she says, and Mulder thinks there might be a bit more color in her cheeks than there was yesterday.

“Okay.” He leans in and sweeps a strand of hair off her forehead so lightly that Scully doesn’t even feel it. She’s apprehensive about being touched these days, and he has taken this knowledge to heart. She is grateful, and to show the extent of this feeling, she strokes his hand, allows him to take hers in his. He runs his thumb over each finger as they continue.

He wants to ask what she’s thinking about, what it is that has so graciously extended his stay in this room. But he knows that she’ll get to it, that she has nothing to keep from him now.

There’s a sincere serenity on her face that he’s never seen. And after a minute or two, she begins. “I didn’t think it could happen--and it certainly doesn’t make much sense-- but right now, I am happier than I have ever been.”

A string on Mulder’s heart, tightened to its prime, bursts without warning.

She caresses the back of his head. “It’s so trivial, Mulder. So much of what we call life isn’t living at all. Or at least not the important kind.”

He lifts his gaze, eye contact conveying more than he could with words.

“But I’ve thought about the parts of my life that are living, and all of them, in some way, come back to you.”

Mulder shakes his head, feeling too flattered. “That’s not true…”

“You can believe whatever you need to,” she whispers, “but it is the truth, and I am eternally grateful that you happened to me.”

He tries to cough away some tears, which works about a quarter as well as he hoped it would. “Hold on, little lady.” He pats her hand in response to her smile. “I think you happened to me.”

Scully’s chest flutters in laughter. “Did I?” These subtle things have always been so important to them.

“You walked into my office, remember.”

“Well, I guess it would depend on who changed the most due to the other’s influence then,” she reasons.

Mulder just gives her a look.

She smirks. “Okay, so maybe I happened to you, but you…” she chews her lip, and this could be any other day of any other year if she weren’t bedridden. She picks out her words-- “You completed me.”

Mulder spills forward, finding his footing and spinning into the middle of the room. “Holy fuck Scully, are you trying to kill me?”

“We’ve been searching for the truth. That’s the truth, Mulder. I wanted you to know.”

He sets his jaw. He won’t burst into tears in front of her, not when she has all the reason to cry and yet has been so strong.

“You should get some sleep,” he tells her, hoping to expedite his exit from the room.

“I will. And it’s okay to be sad, but not for me. My life is as whole as ever.”

He nods, though he doesn’t agree (what’s new?). He knew Samantha for eight years and has been sad for twenty. He’s known Scully for half that--so he gets at least a decade of mourning.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, resting his hands on the door frame. “I’ll bring Emily in when she gets here.”

“Okay.” She closes her eyes, smiles. “Love you.”

“Love you too, DKS.” He blows a kiss and slips out, heat flooding to his face. This is the first time she’s said that unprompted, and is that what the threat of imminent death does to you? Pries you open?

He wonders. Whose love is saving who?

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

The primetime line-up is flickering over the television when Mama Scully arrives with Emily, passing her granddaughter to Mulder like the family heirloom she is. They exchange a few words in short breaths, reserving the air supply for their dear Dana. Mama Scully agrees to come see her daughter this weekend rather than interrupt her much-needed rest now, and Mulder is suddenly single parent-slash-babysitter; the specifics elude him.

Perfumed with baby powder from her grandmother’s overly enthusiastic hand, Mulder concludes that Em needs neither bathing nor changing. She doesn’t seem very keen on sleep either, seeing as how her little voice keeps calling out Moldy! and her little fists clobber his shoulders. Still, he will keep his promise. He carries her into the room she shares with her mother, stepping lightly lest the floorboards creak.

As he circles the bed to lay the child beside her sleeping mother, he winces at the mess in the trash can. Good thing he moved it into place though Scully had seemed okay. He hadn’t heard any retching, and it saddens him that he wasn’t there to hold her hair back. He settles Em into place, makes a mental note to rinse the can on his way out.

Her characteristically light sleep lightened further by her illness, Scully stirs from the shift of Emily’s weight against the mattress. She rolls toward the free side and flutters her eyelids open. Her smile is reflexive.

“Hello baby girl,” she purrs. She lays a hand against her daughter’s polka-dotted onesie. “Did you have a good day with Grandma?”

Emily answers with some fluttery babbling and gropes for her mother’s nose.

“I don’t think she’s very tired,” Mulder remarks, hands in his pockets. He smirks. “We should really find out what your mother feeds her.”

Scully pulls her lips into a grin, exhibiting a great deal more effort than she did just moments before. She blinks, rubs her eyes, and seems to go out of the world for a second. Then she sets her gaze on Mulder and speaks dreamily--”Will you tell us a bedtime story?”

“Oh!” Mulder scratches his chin, having expected his dismissal. “Do you think that would help…?”

Scully presses her head into the pillow. “I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep until she does.”

That is a yes, served with some condescension.

“Okay, well, let me think.” He perches on the side of the bed. “Regrettably, I did not get my degree in bedtime stories.”

“Just say what you know,” Scully mumbles. “We’re the only ones listening, and the goal is to put us to sleep.”

“I hope that’s not a comment on my conversational skills,” he teases, smoothing the sheets.

Again, there’s a look of otherworldliness from his partner. She is somewhere else.

“Go on, tell us a story,” she hums, her surprising lack of impatience attributable to an equal lack of wakefulness.

“Let’s see…” He stretches out, perching on his elbow by Scully’s feet like she did in the first motel they ever stayed in. Emily sits herself up and grasps for him. He laughs, lets her latch onto his fingers.

“There once was a little girl who loved horses and bugging her brother,” he begins. “Now, I’m sure she sounds like just about any little girl out there, but I promise, she was as unique as they come.”

Scully closes her eyes and tilts her head back to listen.

“She always said she wanted to be a butterfly when she grew up so she could spread her wings and fly. And her parents would scoff and tell her that would never be possible, but she believed. She believed it would happen.”

Emily babbles along, adding her own colorful commentary.

“I know, I know right?” Mulder muses to the little girl. “The parents were such jerks.”

He tickles Em’s stomach, then remembers that he’s supposed to be helping her go to sleep. He kisses her temple and begins stroking her knee, hoping to achieve a hypnotic rhythm.

“And so one day, this little girl...well, this little girl got to go on an adventure. She left behind her house and her family, and she got to go up to the sky and see the stars, and it was everything she wished for.”

Scully opens her eyes slowly. Mulder’s focus is centered on Emily, who stares up at him with the awe of a museum-goer seeing the Starry Night. It is as if they are the only two in the room, and this gives Scully great comfort, for she can imagine them having a life after she is gone.

“The girl’s family was sad because they didn’t know where she went. The girl’s brother missed her the most, but it was okay because the girl was happy. She got to fly through the sky like a bird or a plane, and she achieved the dream that her parents thought would never come true.”

Em’s breathing begins to slow into sleep. And thank god, cause he’s running out of story to tell.

“Lay down, little girl.” He guides her onto her back so she can drift off without difficulty, then clears his throat softly.

“Some say that if you see a light in the night sky, that’s this little girl, floating among the stars, living her dream. And her brother, well, he’s pretty fond of that thought. He just wants her to be happy.”

Silence falls over the room like a throbbing sensation of unknown origin. Emily’s eyelids struggle between open and closed, and Mulder knows she will soon be out. Scully’s baby blues, meanwhile, peer at him with such unflinching intensity that he suspects she has fallen asleep like that. It is haunting, but it becomes much less so when she blinks and he realizes that she’s looking at him, that she heard the whole story.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers, half expecting her not to answer.

“It was beautiful, Mulder. Samantha lives on.”

He smiles from his eyes...oh, of course it was obvious, his little tribute to his sister. Scully said to work from what he knew, and this myth is something he’s used to keep himself going since his family realized that there would be no happy reunion with Sam. He’s happy to share his fantasy; such escapes are needed now.

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

Melissa’s heart leaps when she opens the apartment door to an empty living room. The TV drones out its slapstick laugh track, contributing to the ominous atmosphere. She’d expect to see Mulder taking up a restless refuge on the couch, or maybe sneaking a late night snack to Em. Her sister should be fast asleep by now, her little world able to slacken its hold on her. Unless she is no longer afforded such luxury…

Missy rushes toward Dana’s bedroom, her purse still on her shoulder. In the doorway she slows as her eyes adjust to the lack of light. And thank goodness because three silhouettes catch her eye; a medium one buried under the covers, a large one strewn diagonally across the bed, and a small bump barely visible on the far side. A snore of unidentifiable origin is the only disturbance. Missy smiles to herself. All the missing persons are accounted for and well. She can continue with the blissfully bland routine of her night.

She washes her face and brews some chamomile before settling on the couch with the week’s issues of Mad Magazine and Vogue. Yes, she contains multitudes. She’s up to the Spy vs. Spy comic when Mulder strolls in, yawning.

“I guess my bedtime story was effective.”

“Mmm.” Missy scoots her mug over so he can prop his feet up. Dana hates feet on furniture, but she’s got a child in the house now, so she’ll have to let go of those judgments. “How is she?”

“Oh shit.” She’s jogged something in his memory. “I meant to grab the trash can on the way out.”

Missy knows what this means. “I’ll get it in a second.”

Mulder nods in silent gratitude, relaxes back into his spot. “She seemed livelier than usual when we got home.”

It hits him that he said home, not back. And well, it is Scully’s home. What about him? He sleeps on the couch and he doesn’t pay rent...that’s how he lived at Oxford, though he gets the feeling that it’s not as evergreen at thirty-three years old.

These days, he only goes to his place on Sunday nights to get (what he considers) a week’s worth of clothing--two work outfits (hey, he never really sees anyone but Scully anyway) and one casual outfit that doubles as pajamas. He bought a bunch of fish feeding tablets so all he has to do is drop a few in on Sunday and the fish are set for the week. As far as he can tell, at least. None of them have floated to the top of the tank yet.

“And Em is all good?” Missy confirms.

Mulder nods. “Your mom takes good care of her.”

“I think I know the answer to this, but do you want some tea?” Missy asks, flashing her mug.

“No, no, save it for yourself.”

“Alright.” She flips a page in her magazine. “Just let me know when you’re ready to kick me out. Since I’m kind of in your bed and all.”

“I should be telling you that,” Mulder counters. “You don’t mind me staying here, do you?”

“Not at all.” Missy lays the magazine on the table. “It’s important that you’re around.”

“Really?...For what?”

“For who,” Missy corrects. “Emily needs you to give her balance, and Dana...she just needs you. You’re the safety net under her tightrope.”

“Oh.” This metaphor grounds Mulder better than gravity ever has.

Missy seems to sense this and takes the opportunity to profit off his vulnerability. “So what’s gone on between you?” she asks, an eyebrow arched.

Mulder squints at her. “Huh?”

“I keep waiting for Dana to kick you out or get irritated about you being around all the time,” Missy says with honest simplicity. “But instead, she lets you take her to chemo and fall asleep in her bed…”

“Well, I think the former is more ideal than the alternative, which is that I watch her child,” Mulder replies. “And I fell asleep on the bed, not in it.”

“Okay.” Missy sips her tea, keeps her eyes on him.

It’s pointless for Mulder to try to keep secrets anymore. He wrings out his hands. “If you must know, when you dropped her off at my apartment after her appointment, we... came to a mutual understanding.”

“Ah.” Missy is not surprised by any of it. Of course it happened. Of course her sister hasn’t mentioned it.

“Why are you just asking about this now?”

“Cause I expected my suspicions to be proven wrong, and that hasn’t happened.”

Mulder nods, taps absentmindedly on his knee. “Actually, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” She’s intrigued. The enigmatic Fox Mulder, divulging on his own accord.

“Don’t get excited, it’s not good.”

Damn. Missy reels herself in. “About Dana?”

“About what happened to her or...what is happening to her. It’s about the Mufon women.”

Missy curls her legs beneath herself. “You reached them?”

He nods. “Well, Penny Northern’s hospice nurse picked up when I called. She’s got stage four tumors throughout her body that migrated from her nasopharynx.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah. Apparently most of the other abductees have cancer too. And Betsy Hagopian--the woman who Scully saw in the hospital last spring--is dead.”

Missy’s gaze drops to the floor. “So the invasive procedures that the abductors did are killing these women.”

“One doctor’s treating them all--he’s supposed to be a specialist--but it doesn’t look like he’s having much success.” Mulder pauses, his mouth partially open.

“What?” Missy presses.

“The Lone Gunmen and I have been looking into him, and we think that he might have been involved in the abductions.”

Missy barrels forward. “You think he did this to them on purpose and now he’s letting them die?”

Mulder nods solemnly.

“Well, we have to stop him. We can’t let any more patients go to him, especially Dana…”

“I know. I’m going down to see the Lone Gunmen tomorrow after work if you want to join me.”

Missy contemplates. “I have the lunch shift tomorrow, so I could. What would we tell Dana?”

“I’ll say that Skinner is keeping me late to go over some paperwork. You could say whatever, she’s not going to question you.”

“I hate to leave her alone for so long, but...yeah, we have to do this.” She leans back, takes another look at Mulder. “You might just save a lot of women, you know.”

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

Missy feels unseen eyes bore into her as she and Mulder approach the basement entrance of a helter-skelter building. She doesn’t recognize the part of town they’re in, and she doesn’t ask.

Mulder hits the button on a call box beside the door. Before he can speak, a voice leaps out at them.

“Howdy Mulderoony.” Mulder recognizes it as Frohike’s voice. “Glad to see you made it safely.”

A variety of locks and chains are undone, the door pulled open.

“Join our ménage a trois,” Frohike says, ushering them in.

“We can’t stay long,” Mulder tells them, squinting as he adjusts to the darkness of their realm. “You guys forget to pay the electric bill or something?”

“We’re conserving electricity,” Byers says, a shadow in the corner of the room. “It’s good for the environment.”

“I didn’t realize the environment was on your list of concerns.”

“It should be on everyone’s list of concerns,” Byers throws back matter-of-factly.

Mulder slides his hands into his pockets. “Touché.”

Ringo comes forward from the darkness, his hair as tressed and greasy as ever. “Well lookie here. Dana Scully in the flesh.”

Frohike inserts himself between them. “You can’t be serious, pool boy. That’s not her, I’d know her anywhere. It is, however, an equally lovely woman.” He takes Missy’s hand and kisses it. “My lady.”

Missy participates with amusement until Mulder brushes Frohike aside.

“Okay boys, lay off. This is Scully’s sister Melissa. And I believe she’s taken.”

Frohike bows. “A lucky man.”

“Woman,” Missy corrects.

“Oh. Excusez-moi."

Tucked in the darkness, Byers scoffs at the childish antics. “Come on, let’s cut to the chase. Lives are at stake.”

“I’m glad to see someone has a brain around here,” Mulder quips.

Ringo pats Mulder’s shoulder. “Not all of us got a full-ride to Oxford, but hey, I’d say we’ve done pretty well for ourselves.”

“Calm down, Ringo. You’d still be the smartest member of the Ramones.”

Like an unleashed dog, Ringo lunges forward, and Byers and Frohike pull him back. They are quite used to this.

“You can insult me, but never speak ill of the Ramones!” Ringo growls.

Mulder puts his hands up, smirks at the permission he’s been given. “Happily.”

Missy clears her throat, her amusement wearing thin. She’s like her sister in this way.

Mulder gets the memo. “Right. Can the trash talk, we’re here to catch a criminal.”

“If he is, in fact, a criminal,” Byers remarks.

Missy frowns. “Haven’t you proved that?”

“We’re connecting the dots, but we haven’t completed the picture yet,” Byers replies.

Mulder circles around to Byers’ monitor. “What have you got?”

“This doctor, Scanlon, isn’t just an oncologist,” Ringo begins, as if Mulder asked him. “His name is associated with the Lombard Research Facility.”

Mulder and Missy both give him a look. More, more!

“A high security medical research center in Allentown,” he clarifies.

“We’ve hacked into some of the security cameras,” Frohike tells them. “We’d have to get in to see for ourselves, but the activity is rather suspicious. The same men, in and out, at odd times. Whatever they’re storing in there, it’s significant.”

“Then let’s get in,” Mulder emphasizes. “You be the eyes and ears, I’ll be the legs.”

Ringo nods. “We’re working on it.”

“We need to observe their weekend patterns before we make any moves,” Byers insists. “We don’t set up our missions to fail.”

“Fine, but as soon as you’ve reached your confidence threshold--”

“We’ll call you,” Ringo promises.

“What are you expecting to find?” Missy asks, frenzied. “Will it help Dana?”

Frohike drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s the plan.”

Byers nods. “We can’t be sure exactly what we’ll find, but the connection is clear: Scanlon was involved with the abductions, and he’s exploiting these women for his own benefit.”

Melissa shivers involuntarily. “It’s amazing that you’ve figured this out.”

Ringo twirls a pencil through his hair. “We have a lot of free time on our hands.”

Mulder takes a shot at the mini-basketball hoop they have, misses. “And you’d better use it all to implicate Dr. Scanlon’s ass.”

Frohike does a two-finger salute. “Aye aye captain.”

Mulder thumbs toward the door. “Now we’ve gotta get out of here before the smell sticks to us. Scully will know exactly where we’ve been,” he smirks.

“Can’t argue with that.” Frohike shows them to the door. “Give the lady my regards.”

“Will do.” He turns back, exchanges a serious glance with each man. “Sort this out, boys.”

Just as quickly as they came, he and Melissa step out of the chambers and ascend back into the sun’s dominion. Entrusting those three with the well-being of a woman they love so much is far from ideal, and yet, they’re throwing all their faith into it.

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

Mulder slides his key into the door of apartment 42 shortly after seven on Sunday evening. He hasn’t been in for a week, and yet a vivid scent of...smoke sticks about the place. And a wrinkled mess of a man to go with it.

The old man lifts his chin. “I’ve been expecting you.”

Mulder is no longer naïve enough to be taken aback by Cancer Man’s ambush. He shrugs and slides his coat off. “Well, you are in my apartment.”

“I’ve heard that your partner is very sick,” CSM says, his steps so clunky that Mulder wonders whether the downstairs tenants will complain.

“What grapevine did you get that from?...Or are you the one growing the grapes?”

“It saddened me to hear. Agent Scully is a valuable member of the Bureau.”

Mulder nods. “You here to pass on your condolences? Cause I’m pretty sure you could just send a card.”

“I’m here to propose a solution...The doctors say your partner’s sickness is incurable. This is not true.”

“Smarter than the doctors, are you?”

“In this case I am.”

A bitter laugh rises from Mulder. “So I’m supposed to believe that you were involved in sickening Scully, yet you want to save her?”

“We all have our regrets.”

“And I have no reason to trust you.”

“Upon learning about her child, I feel a deep need to intervene.”

“Mmm.” Mulder begins to pace. “And by learning about her child, do you mean when Scully’s ova were removed and fertilized without her knowledge? Because I have a hard time believing that you didn’t know a thing about Emily until Scully got custody.”

“Certainly I did not foresee Emily ending up in her mother’s custody.”

“What was the purpose then, of Emily? To terrorize a woman by taking away her bodily autonomy?”

CSM shrugs. “That’s not my area.”

Mulder scoffs. “Okay you old freak. Tell me how to save Scully’s life or get the hell out of here.”

The wrinkled man folds his hands. “She had a silicone implant removed from her neck. Put it back in.”

Mulder freezes. “Are you serious? That’s your miracle cure?”

CSM nods. “It is the only way to save her life. Removing the implant is what caused the cancer in the first place.”

Mulder steps forward, getting in the old man’s face like a middle-school bully. He’s ready to throw a punch--honestly, ready to kill the man--if need be. He could do it. Easily. He could.

“What does the implant do, Cancer Man?”

“Believe it or not, it is meant as a sort of inoculation. It offsets the negative effects of any tests performed during the...time away.”

“Uh-huh, and what do you get from it?”

“Who says I get anything from it?”

“How else would you know that she had it removed?”

“I am everywhere, Agent Mulder.”

Mulder loses his thinly-veiled calm, wraps his hand around the man’s saggy neck. “You fucking pervert, I’ll kill you! I’ve killed a man before just like this. Tell me the truth.”

“This is the truth,” CSM wheezes, not intimidated by his rapidly deteriorating air flow. His cold, hard eyes stare into Mulder’s. “You wouldn’t kill a man over nothing, would you?”

Mulder squeezes harder, his fingers gripping the man’s pulse. He watches the light drain from his victim’s eyes. All the old bastard does is smirk at him.

Angered by this more than anything, Mulder releases the man so suddenly that his bony body is thrown into the wall. He keeps his footing, stumbles forward.

“Get out,” Mulder growls. When he doesn’t respond, Mulder pokes his finger at the door. “Get out now!”

CSM dusts himself off and walks out, the pompous smirk never leaving his face. Mulder slams the door shut behind him.

There are certain truths he cannot escape. If Scully has made him believe in Heaven, CSM has made him believe in Hell.

#sincerely hope i did the lone gunmen justice lol #also i feel like this chapter is...a normal episode amount of angsty instead of the slow paper cut of the last chapter #the x-files #only the light fic #missy and scully fic #txf #txf fic #fox mulder #dana scully #melissa scully #mine #eww this looks weird w/the tumblr update!!#read it on ao3 lol

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psalloacappella · 4 years ago

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poco a poco

Day 5 Prompt: Lover’s Quarrel // “You never listen to me.”

@sasusakublankperiodweek

Ao3 | FFN | ↓

Underneath the dense foliage of a magnificent, custodial beech tree, they sit quiet for a bit, apologizing without moving their lips — in the buzz of insects, the nostalgic trilling of toads, the whispering of tree leaves.

Sasuke watches her in profile; then, with an unexpected tenderness, tucks her hair behind her ear, dark eyes on the split skin of her cheekbone.

The sound Sakura makes isn’t quite a scream, but it startles Sasuke enough for him to pause in his foraging task. Reaching for a benign fallen fruit nestled in the grass, her reaction seems theatrical on its face and now he’s distracted by the glistening, bright nettles getting in the way of securing the bag.

“Don’t—!”

It makes sense in an instant: The alarming shade of orange they possess, an alien glimmer and dance about them. He scoffs and has a thought that immediately reminds him he’s occasionally stupid, Ah, plants don’t move like this —

And though Sakura’s never possessed his level of speed, she’s already yanking him out of the brush as the alcove swiftly aims to trap them in.

They tumble backward, Sakura bodily pulling him along without tapping the wellspring of her true strength; they’ve played that game, and he’s intimately familiar with the shiver a grown man feels dancing down his spine when a fissure snakes beneath the earth under his feet.

Tangled up in one another and already catching angry mutters, he’s sure he’s missed something he doesn’t understand and she’s about to tell him exactly what it is.

Well, he’d never have it any other way.

Kneeling on her haunches, she roughly clears her vision of stray hair and levels a gaze, green-glass and sharp, that could slice and feather him as a mandolin.

“Are—you—blind?”

“Not quite yet.”

Sasuke never knew her eyes could get quite so wide, and he considers the merits of keeping his witty comebacks to himself.

Something draws his gaze, though, and the amusement sinks as fast as it came. The thin line, a surface split in the skin dashed across her cheekbone, doesn’t seem to impede her anger roiling along as a volcano, folding in on itself and furthering its validity as a runaway chemical reaction.

“If you touched it, we need to extract the poison right away,” she says impatiently, speaking through gritted teeth. Luckily that’s only a side-effect of her fury, rather than the cut.

“Sakura—”

“Come here—”

“Your face!” A spark of his own surfacing out of guilt and irritation; there’s no way she’s unaware of the poison now coursing through her systems in a chaotic melee, seeking whichever biological home feeds it best.

Her response is to yank him by the hand, turning his arm at the elbow and spreading his fingers.

“I’m fine!” he barks.

“All it takes is a tiny way in, Sasuke—”

“And what about you? What do we do?”

“I’m asking the questions, here.”

“I’m not your patient out here, you know,” he snaps, indicating the forest clearing.

“Then maybe stop trying to act like one!” The rouge of her anger lights up the cut in her face with an odd white rim, and Sasuke catches the sinister gleam from the split in her skin from a passing moment in the shifting canopy.

Orange.

“A color that bright — gods, I can’t believe you—”

Ripping her belt from the waist and unfurling it with a snap!, a motion saturated with ire, her hand hovers for a second or two, fingers bouncing in rapid thought, before plucking a vial and fluttery gauze from the pack.

“Tell me what to do,” Sasuke growls.

The response is savage muttering, and he’s so sure he catches something like that’s some Naruto shit and handsome-stupid. No stranger to her temper flaring bright and subsiding with haste, but his helplessness makes it difficult to keep his dumb mouth shut.

“Sakura!”

“Concentrating.”

Emerald, soft and with an incandescent, almost mystical texture and glow. There’s something about her skill that roils his gut into abstruse knots of anxiety threaded through with intimidation, spun through with tight, woven pride. In contrast to the coarse and hackneyed way in which he’s healed or handled injury in the past, cowering in caves and sweating out lonely fevers and even the way he’s used another body, sinking his teeth in to rob an unknown and murky power from another vessel.

But her behavior jerks him back to the present as she squeezes venom from her fucking face into her stupid glass vial and he absolutely cannot believe he’s watching this from the woman he loves, as she gently coaxes it to the surface and manages not to spill a drop despite the shakes settling into her limbs.

“What do I do, Sakura? Tell me.”

She corks the vial with aplomb and offers nothing but a heavy sigh. “Please gently put this back in my waistbelt.”

Now it’s his turn to stare, and though she blinks in the moment his eye flickers and flares to crimson life, it doesn’t frighten her like he thought it might.

“You’re annoying.”

She frowns, and the gentle glow around her fingers brightens a bit. “How could you touch something so bright? Is something like that ever not poisonous?”

“Then what about you? Acting like it’s not a big deal!”

The shrug she gives him makes him clench his jaw, closing his eyes for a moment. Not quite a praying man, but most of the things that are destined to pass his lips will only escalate their bickering.

“There’s nothing to be gained from panic,” she says quietly. “I’ve learned this many times, now.”

And though she’s not and has never been stone cold, he can see the bobbing in her neck after her heavy swallow, the deep breath, the search for calm as the glittering orange comes away in her glowing hand, suspended in-air as the formless shapes of ink blot tests, losing it’s luster as she flicks her fingers and it dissipates into the wind. Harmless.

“And anyway, I’ve played with poison before.”

Grey pallor receding from her face, she smiles at him in a small and faint way that prompts him to ask, again,

“What do I do?”

She exhales, shoulders slumping, body relenting to the aftermath of adrenaline rush by losing its strict form. “Can you help me?” She nods at a nearby tree. “Need to sit for a moment.”

Miles from home, it seems their paltry disagreements last for the better part of years, but when they’ve burnt out, twinkling out as tiny stars, they know they’re never angry for long.

Sasuke watches her in profile; then, with an unexpected tenderness, tucks her hair behind her ear, dark eyes on the split skin of her cheekbone.

“You haven’t healed this.”

Emerging from what seems like a deep reverie, she nuzzles against his fingers, absorbing his touch.

“I shouldn’t do that with you,” she says, eyes glossy. The threat of tears. “It’s what I do in an emergency — you learn it’s simply not about you, that you’re the one in charge. They’re scared, so you put away your fear and feelings.” Her eyes swivel to him, offering an apology and asking forgiveness. “They need you to lead, and so you do.”

Why she hangs on the notion that he might not forgive her, that she needs to ask even silently, he’ll never be able to parse, given the grace he’s been extended from his loved ones and above all of them, her, so many times over.

“You should know how to do this.” Voice firm, a statement rather than a suggestion. Head still resting against the venerable tree trunk, she continues. “Even basic skill could go a long way.”

“You’re not suggesting—”

“I absolutely am!” she interjects. “What if you need to heal someone and I’m not there? What if I’m incapacitated, and it’s me?” Taking him by the shirt, she pulls him a little closer to drive home the solemnity, the gravity of what she’s implying. “In the future, in a life with new loved ones . . . what wouldn’t you do for them?”

Sasuke’s eyes flicker from her intense eyes to the cut on her cheek, the discomfiting orange glimmer long gone, but the injury still resolutely present.

“Great men,” she whispers, “have died from many benign, simple things.”

Here is what he’d never confess: She adores him and believes in him more than he deserves. The idea that he’s a good man, a talented one, possessing an unshakeable compass when his narrative has proven, in his view, the absolute opposite.

That nearly every day, his instinct is to sink into shadows that tug at him, but right on cue she emboldens him to step into the light.

“You should do it,” he says quietly, aiming for a dissuading tone. “This is your face, I don’t want to hurt you.” Again. As always.

“I trust you.”

“I can’t do it now, like this.”

“You never listen to me, Sasuke-kun.”

She takes him by the hand — he can feel the warmth of the green glow he’s observed many times, relieving bodies of their healing burdens and broken bones; has seen it used on his good friend, an old sensei, a child’s skinned knee here, an elderly’s poor joint there. A body brought back to life, snatched from the void’s edge of an unknown thing they’ve yet to explore.

And for an otherworldly instant that unwavering devotion is reflected in the eyes he’s woken up to for days and weeks now: Unshakable belief reflected back to him, a second in which he sees himself as she always does.

“And I’m telling you, you can.”

#SSBlankPeriod2021 #SSBPDay5 #sasusaku #psalloacappella:SSBP

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oftherainn · 4 years ago

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Lamentations of a Short King [January 6, 2021]

IN PROGRESS

Rainn rests the tip of his helmet against the little crook between Aly’s neck and shoulder, keeping his arms firmly and securely around him as he feels the rush of cold January air around them as they ride through the city, probably all scenic and shit or whatever...like he really cared in the moment, a stream of breath exiting his nose like...fuck, Jesus, was he really going to let some lady he didn’t know from a rando ass store live rent free in his head? It’s Free Real Estate...the stupid meme causing an audible snort to move through him in spite of it all, even though...he feels the edge of a thought that was Unproductive and Contrary to the shit he was working on begin to creep into his headspace like devilish tendrils...along with the kinda eugh he was already feeling that day, feeling that itchy kinda...eugh in his own skin beating through his consciousness even as...taking a deep breath, focus on what You Can control...you can Control how you React to it...how you Think about it...his internal consciousness sounding less like the calming voice of his therapist and more like...Michael, for whatever reason, before the thought of Michael makes him remember what Jada said about Thee Christmas Suit (tm), the mental picture of That kinda sorta making him feel at least a little better, or at least a bit distracted, but it Worked, ha....before he hears the sound of the bike stop, moving to take the helmet off, sure he had some (not, Rainn, not) god ugly helmet hair as he...looks up at Him and like...bleh, tries to push the thought on the fringes there in the moment out like...shoo...as he...as he...he’s with You, stupid...he reminds himself as he quickly puts the caveat on the Thought that it was like...an endearing kinda stupid like...Two Halves of a Whole Idiot but like he was ??? Both the idiots ?? The whole momentary line of thought kinda deflating like a balloon in how little Sense it made in the moment before he tries to Reframe it, Reframe, yeah, that coming more clearly in Her voice, taking a kinda sorta...solace ?? in it, yeah, as he takes the original seed of a Thought and just...You’re a Good Person. If you Weren’t a Good Person, you wouldn’t be so worried about how Bad you are. And yeah, you’ve Made Mistakes, but it’s about owning them and growing and like...what’s Good Now, and like...this is good, really good, Fuck what other people say, he...internally ted talks himself or whatever...before realizing he was looking up at Aly with like...that (not) dumb little smile on his face because he was feeling that whole...warm, fluttery mmm kinda...nice shit...so gay, ha, he chides himself as he tries to not look so fucking...gay for him in the moment, kinda...hopping off all casual...like...yeah, even as a little...half smile kinda flickers up on his lips because, yeah, he was fucking gay for him, feelings, grosss, he teasingly admonishes himself even as he lets himself Feel it as he goes up on his tip toes for a kiss like the Short King he was or whatever, an internal dry snort moving through him, make Daddy (read: Blackbear, plus TMG) Proud, a few little notes of the song trilling through his thoughts as he...mmmmm, feels Good and Nice and Warm, and just...Loved, or some gay shit, what the hell ever, slowly, kinda reluctantly...finally drawing back as he moves to grab the Candy and other little treats for the fam out of the back thing that was like a trunk but not really a trunk as he moves to gesture his index finger towards альоша, damn, a (not) dumb little warmth turning over through him at the Full Government Name in his thoughts and just how...fucking cute? It was...honestly...ha, as he does his best like...Serious Face, holding his gaze like he meant Business, “Now don’t you do anything I wouldn’t Do,” he reminds, even as a little chuckle breaks through, Do not Did, very important Loophole, as Uncle G would say, before the little half smile makes its way back onto his lips like it lived there Rent Free as he takes in the Aly Smile, That One, that just like...radiated warmth and light and made him feel so fucking gay, giving him a little salute as he walks backwards a few steps, watching him leave before turning around to head into Jess’s building after putting his mask on, hoping that the whole crew was home, because he was bringing some Quality Shit, yeah, getting that little !! of like...excitement for them to open the little Holiday gifts he had worked with Aly, альоша, to put together, hoping they’d like them and it could just be a nice little token of just how damn much he appreciated them all and everything they had done for him, a little bit of...warm gratitude and appreciation flooding through him, as the little smile flickers onto his lips again as he texts Jess to let her know he was there and...yeah.

#( * rps. )#( * in progress rps. )

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supergraphicultramoderngirl · 5 years ago

Text

i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you

summary: cyrus and tj are childhood best friends. tj’s there for him when cyrus comes out to his family and it doesn’t go well, he watches him grow up and be proud of who he is, and he may or may not fall in love in the process. the only issue is, he’s not nearly as proud of himself as cyrus is. and yeah, cyrus is always gonna be there for tj, but now, a recent college grad, he’s done hiding. will they make it out together?

word count: 6.2K

(hey so i kinda accidentally deleted the whole thing and lost all of my formatting so other than the major flashbacks the previously italicized things aren’t anymore and it bugs me too but just like,, deal with it)

taglist: @citrus-thelonious @heart-eyes-kippen @danceacademys @kippenmittens @vi-the-best-you-can @tjskipping @simplycyrus @luzawithoutu @lizzybeth-eleventyseven @green-lemonboys @oblivioustj @theobligatedklutz @nineteenohtwo @theconfusedravenclaw @i-swear-its-just-me @bambiandambi @isisisak @fallout-of-my-chair

“TJ?” Cyrus’ voice shook, cracking from the tears, but whispered from fear of his parents overhearing.

TJ may have been asleep before, but he sure as hell wasn’t now, hearing that tone in his best friend’s voice. “Cyrus? What’s wrong?”

His tone remained hushed, even less stable than before, “Can I stay over at your house tonight?”

TJ glanced over at his clock. 2:38am. Why now?

“Please,” Cyrus choked out.

TJ didn’t even hesitate in answering, “Of course. Come in through my window, okay?”

Not even ten minutes later, Cyrus crawled through the window and stood for a moment before body racking sobs erupted from him. It was painful to watch, and TJ wanted to burn alive whatever could’ve possibly made him feel that way. He didn’t deserve that. He never could.

Cyrus collapsed into TJ, who gripped him like he was falling off the edge of the earth. He knew for a fact then that he would always be there to catch him.

But Cyrus was gone before TJ woke up that morning.

———

“Hey,” TJ caught up to Cyrus while walking in the hallway towards their history class. To say that he was scared for his friend after what happened the night before was an understatement. “Are you okay?”

Cyrus laughed incredulously, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He hoisted his textbooks closer to his chest.

TJ furrowed his brows. “Last ni—“

“I don’t want to talk about it.” The look on his face was something terrifying. His lips were pressed into a tight smile, but his eyes told three stories at once. They told him to shut up, they told him he was angrier than TJ had ever seen him, they told him that he was still aching, still crushed from whatever happened.

“Okay,” TJ spoke slowly, “but you know I’ll always be here for you, right? No matter what’s going on?”

Cyrus’ hard visage almost melted for a second, like he wanted to cave in so badly, but after a flicker of fear sparked in his eyes, he shifted his gaze to his feet and continued walking.

“Yeah. I know.”

———

“What do you mean you’re ‘not gay anymore’? That isn’t exactly something you can just switch on and off, you know,” Buffy retorted, bewildered by the words coming out of her best friend’s mouth. Andi sat beside her, equally surprised and confused.

“I mean, I’m not gay anymore. It was a mistake, I probably just judged my feelings wrong or something,” Cyrus mumbled, then sighed, straightening up in his seat. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, alright?”

“Too bad, because something obviously happened if you went from total heart eyes with Jonah and TJ and running away after kissing Iris to suddenly being straight, so spill,” Buffy pushed back, trying to make sense of her friend’s behavior.

Andi leaned forward, taking his hands in hers. “Look, Cyrus, you don’t have to tell us anything, but we’re here for you no matter what, okay? We’re always gonna be here for you.”

His eyes grew misty despite not losing their closed-off demeanor, and he threw them a watery smile. “Thanks. I...” he trailed off. “I want to tell you, but I can’t. I want to tell you so badly, you know.” He stood up then, grabbing his coat. “I’m just gonna take off and head home,” he paused, “see you guys later.”

Andi and Buffy shared a worried look, shoving their baby taters away from them a bit.

They lost their appetite.

———

Sophomore year just began, and yet TJ was swamped with homework already, which became his primary focus on his walk home from school. This explains why he ran directly into someone while trying to think through his schedule, and how the hell he was possibly going to handle math this year.

TJ quickly moved to apologize, “Oh, sorry— Cyrus? Hey, what’re you doing?”

Cyrus gave him a tight-lipped smile. It’d been two years since they last talked, two years and a little bit more since that night. “I’m on my way to Andi’s,” he explained.

TJ looked down, squinting. “With two suitcases and a duffel bag?”

Cyrus nodded, yanking his jacket to cover his torso more. “Yep.”

TJ grew even more obviously concerned. “Is everything alright?”

Cyrus closed his eyes and took a terse sigh. “Everything is fine, TJ. Mind your business, please.” He shoved past the taller boy, making his way to, presumably, Andi’s house.

•••

“For two years, I’ve let you all do this to me. I’ve tried to be the mediator, I’ve tried to repress it all, but for god’s sakes, you’re all the therapists here! This is your job! Not only as a therapist, but as a parent, you should support and be there for your kids!” He took a sigh. “This is not just something I’m confused about, alright? This is a part of me that I’ve known for years, and a part of me that I’ve had for even longer. You don’t get to choose what parts of me you want around, you get all of me, or none at all. Take your pick.”

His mother closed her eyes, while the other three adults stared at him with disdain and pity, something you should never be getting from your fucking parents. “If you’re going to choose to continue living this way, then I guess we’re forced to say none at all, Cyrus.”

Cyrus’ hand shook as he pointed at her. “You are not forced in this situation, Mom. You are the one making a choice, not me.”

“Just make this easier on everyone and start packing your things,” his father interjected.

Cyrus did so, body-racking sobs overtaking him all the meanwhile, reminding him of the first time he’d tried to bring this up around them, the last time he had his rock still around.

The four adults watched him leave, they watched as he stopped himself in the doorway and turned back to say to them. “If you really think I’m going to hell, I’ll see you all there.”

The door slammed shut, and yet it was the most silent moment that house had ever had.

•••

Two weeks after their run-in, TJ spots Cyrus waltzing into school with a pride pin adorning his typical polo shirt.

Cyrus may have been proud of himself, but TJ was almost prouder.

———

The first time Cyrus got a boyfriend was when TJ really noticed it. The weird aching yet stabbing feeling in his chest, that wait, something is wrong here feeling.

That green-eyed monster feeling.

Had TJ thought it was weird he’d never really gotten a crush before while all of his friends would talk about girls all the time? No, maybe he was just a late bloomer, he presumed. Did he feel off whenever one of his teammates comments on how hot a girl is and he can’t bring himself to understand why he thinks that? No, he probably just didn’t think that specific girl was cute. Right?

Did TJ notice a weird fluttery feeling, a swoop in his stomach, something his friends only associated with their girlfriends, every time he saw Cyrus as of late? Hell yeah, he did.

And it was terrifying.

When Cyrus got a boyfriend, it made it even worse. Especially when everyone kept saying that they were shoe-ins for homecoming royalty, and that they would be the two to make it all the way past college, that they were perfect for each other. Especially since this was the period of time that Cyrus chose to become better friends with TJ again, because he “missed his company”.

Yeah, okay, guess he’ll just deal with it then. Right?

———

The universe was now obviously out to get him. That had to be it.

Two more years passed, TJ’s crush didn’t let up, and neither did his guard. He remained heavily in the closet, and was prepared to stay there for potentially the rest of his life. It’s not like people wouldn’t support him, I mean, there’s only two homophobic assholes at their school and TJ could definitely handle them, plus, his mom seemed pretty open-minded with things. The whole concept to him was just terrifying. Too many layers of different.

Anyways, two years passed, and TJ received a text from his best friend that would either ruin or save his life.

Him and Cyrus got into the same college. Cyrus’ boyfriend did not.

The universe had to be fucking with him, at this point, like come on.

———

TJ’s night before graduation was surprisingly filled with pints of ice cream and cheesy romcoms that were easy to make fun of.

Oh yeah, Cyrus’ boyfriend broke up with him that day, something about not wanting to deal with an LDR, and that he wasn’t expecting it to last, anyway. Naturally, TJ stepped in to his role as best friend and offered a place for him to sleepover.

After Cyrus threw popcorn at the screen in anger for the third time that night, he huffed and grabbed the remote to pause the movie. “I’m over this. I can’t watch this anymore. It’s unrealistic.” He looked over to TJ, who was already looking back at him. He always was, wasn’t he? “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

TJ shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never been in a relationship,” he pointed out.

Cyrus sat in thought for a moment, drying tear stains shining from the glow of the TV. “Oh, wait, wow, you’ve never been in a relationship. Why the hell have you never been in a relationship?”

“I... don’t know,” he replied, but as he looked at the boy in front of him, he realized he knew exactly why.

It had always been him.

•••

A small brunette boy walked up behind the sandbox timidly. He asked with a small voice, “Can I help you make sandcastles?”

The blonde boy already sitting in the box, knees already covered in sand, turned around to see the other boy. “Yeah, of course! Do you wanna make the moat?”

The brunette boy nodded and knelt down to play with the blonde. From a distance, some of the blonde’s friends pointed and laughed. “Look, Kippen’s playing with the baby!”

As the brunette’s face dropped, the blonde knew then that he would make sure he never felt sad like that. He turned to look at the boy and said, “Don’t listen to them, they don’t know what they’re saying. They’re just a bunch of butts.”

The brunette laughed, and the blonde already loved the sound. “I’m TJ.”

“I know.” The brunette threw him a small smile. “Cyrus.”

•••

“I don’t know, TJ, something just feels off, you know? Like, I should like her, she’s my girlfriend, but I don’t know,” Cyrus ranted.

TJ internally huffed. For some reason, he always hated it when Cyrus talked about his girlfriend, Iris. He didn’t exactly know why. “Maybe you just don’t like her, Cy.”

“But she’s exactly like me! She’s like the perfect girl! And yet, nothing,” Cyrus rambled, exasperated.

“Maybe that’s why. I mean, they do say opposites attract, right?” TJ shrugged.

Cyrus squinted at him in thought. “Maybe.”

TJ couldn’t help but notice that the two of them were almost complete opposites and yet they were the best of friends.

•••

To say that TJ was jealous was an understatement.

That day was the third day in a row that Cyrus blew him off to hang out with Andi and Buffy. It was obvious he had a crush on one of them, and that’s why they had so many closed meetings. It had to be. He had just broken up with Iris, maybe he realized he actually had a crush on one of the two girls he’d grown close with over the course of middle school. TJ just wanted his best friend back.

TJ slammed his locker door shut with a huff, turning to nearly run into a confused Cyrus. “Hey, what’s wrong, Teej?”

TJ closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s nothing.”

Cyrus only grew more concerned. “It’s obviously something if it’s bothering you this much.”

TJ sighed. “Do you like Andi or Buffy?”

Cyrus’ eyes widened. “No, of course not! What in the world could possibly make you think that?!”

“You keep blowing me off for them,” TJ replied in a small voice.

“Ohhh,” Cyrus’ doe eyes widened more in realization. “Believe me, TJ, there is no way that I like either of them. I just really needed to talk something through with them.”

“What could you talk about with them and not me?” TJ asked.

“School project, that’s all. I’m really sorry for blowing you off, TJ,” Cyrus replied, patting TJ’s shoulder, then making his way to class.

———

College was underway, and with more and more work piling up and super conflicting schedules, TJ and Cyrus drifted apart again. It wasn’t intentional this time, at least, they just didn’t have enough time to see each other.

Despite not being around each other anymore, TJ still watched Cyrus thrive. He watched Cyrus join the college’s GSA and soon become president of it, he watched Cyrus put out his first short film as it quickly became a big hit, he watched as Cyrus’ film became a stand out piece in a local film festival— the first one to feature a gay main couple, and he watched as Cyrus headlined his own float for LGBT+ members of the film industry at their local pride parade. He watched Cyrus come into his own.

And yet, TJ was still trapped himself.

He studied education with a minor in history, he was a star player on the school’s basketball team, and he had a few friends. A couple friends. A friend. A roommate. Who was gone half the time with his girlfriend.

He wanted to be out, god knows he wanted to be out so badly. He wanted to confront and yell at himself, asking, why the hell aren’t you being who you are?! What’s your excuse?! Why’re you such a coward?!

Because if he truly lived as he was, maybe he would be that much happier. Have some actual friends. Do something other than work.

But god knows he couldn’t do that.

So he watched Cyrus do it instead.

———

They graduated.

TJ had a job now, he’d become a guidance counselor at a middle school maybe ten minutes away from Shadyside. Not exactly his intention going into education, but it worked well enough.

He couldn’t help but think that a certain brunette would be much better at breaking down young minds than he would be, but that certain brunette was debuting his first major film in a local theater that weekend. It was a memoir type story, about his life. TJ was too busy to see it.

It was mid afternoon in late October when it happened. TJ had been walking to his apartment, headphones in, when he ran into a stranger walking the opposite direction. He turned to apologize, “Oh, sorry— Cyrus Goodman?”

The man turned to look at him. “TJ Kippen?”

TJ smiled. “Hey, long time, no collision.”

Cyrus gave him an easygoing smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

TJ shrugged his jacket on more, the cold biting at his spine, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I heard you’ve got a movie coming out this weekend?” At Cyrus’ proud nod, he continued, “I know how much you’ve loved doing that stuff. I’m really proud of you.” You have no idea how proud I am.

“Thanks, TJ,” Cyrus replied, his countenance only growing softer. Then, suddenly, he grimaced. “I guess we lost contact again, huh?”

It’s not like I wanted to. “Yeah.”

“How about I get your number and socials so that doesn’t happen again?” Cyrus said, an apparent teasing lilt to his voice.

TJ smiled softly. “Of course.”

———

Within weeks, the two became inseparable again. Yeah, they had busy schedules, but they were adults now. Priorities.

And apparently, these priorities included binging Netflix on a Friday night and ordering pizza at Cyrus’ house.

Everything that had happened between the two of them over the course of the time they had reconnected reminded TJ so vividly of the last two years of high school, it was like his giddy schoolboy crush had come back tenfold, like he had his favorite elementary school buddy back. They had both matured, sure, but they were still the same. They were still TJ and Cyrus. Attached by the hip.

“Everything on here is shitty, let’s just talk,” Cyrus suggested, turning to face TJ while they both sat on the couch.

“Okay,” TJ shrugged. “Talk about what?”

“Don’t know, didn’t think I’d get that far,” Cyrus joked, the two of them sharing a small laugh.

“Any boys?” TJ asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Cyrus shoved him with his elbow, laughing, “What is this, a middle school sleepover?”

“You didn’t say no,” TJ teased.

“No, there are no boys,” Cyrus replied, rolling his eyes. “What about you, any girls catching your eye lately?”

TJ laughed, mildly nervous now, the same as he always was whenever the topic of girls came up. “N-no, no girls.”

Cyrus scoffed, mouth full of pizza. “Please, a guy like you’s gotta have tons of ladies falling all over you.”

TJ shrugged again, more falling in on himself now, “I guess, I just don’t like any of them, though.”

Cyrus raised an eyebrow. “Did you have a girlfriend in college or anything either?”

TJ shook his head, crossing his arms to hide his now fidgety hands.

“TJ, have you ever even liked—“

“Cyrus, just... drop it.”

Cyrus just furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed the remote. “Ohhh...kay.” He switched it over to Hulu and picked a random show for them to watch, the comfortable silence from before having shifted into one of tension.

———

To say TJ was nervous was an understatement.

Why was he so nervous? He had no reason to be this nervous. He had 23 years to prepare for this moment, and yet he was still fucking nervous. His hands shook as he slowly took a seat on a park bench, the one nearly twenty feet away from the swing set. Their old swing set.

TJ had arrived 20 minutes earlier than he asked Cyrus to meet him, as an attempt to try and calm himself down. So far, it wasn’t working, all he could think about was how horrible this could end; how once he said it, he could never go back. It would be real.

Cyrus, being Cyrus, got there ten minutes after TJ did, slowing his pace of approaching when taking in TJ’s nervous state. “Hey, Teej, you alright?” he asked, taking his seat next to TJ.

“No,” TJ mumbled.

“I know you wanted to tell me something, but if it stresses you out this much, you don’t have to,” Cyrus said, placing his arm on his friend’s shoulder. He removed it quickly, however, when TJ flinched away. “D-did I do something?”

“No,” TJ jumped to respond. “I just, I don’t know why I’m so nervous about this, I have no reason to be, I—“

“But you are, and those feelings are valid, alright?” Cyrus said softly, as if approaching a small animal. TJ hated it. He wasn’t some fucking bunny, why couldn’t he just say it?

“Cyrus,” TJ started almost breathlessly, then took a deep sigh, looking at the ground. “I’m gay.”

“Teej.” Cyrus took TJ’s hands in his, forcing him to look back up at him. “I am so proud of you, you know that, right? I know how hard it is to come out and say it— no pun intended. Thank you for trusting me with this,” he continued, a soft smile ever present on his face.

“Of course I trust you,” TJ replied in almost a rasp. “I just feel bad that I never told you earlier.”

“You know when it’s the right time, TJ.” Cyrus let go of his hands then, and TJ did his best to mask his disappointment as he leaned back in his seat. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you known?”

•••

“Don’t listen to them, they don’t know what they’re saying. They’re just a bunch of butts.”

•••

“I mean, they do say opposites attract, right?”

•••

“I know how much you’ve loved doing that stuff. I’m really proud of you.”

•••

TJ closed his eyes. As long as I’ve known you. “I don’t know. Maybe I always have. Just didn’t wanna face it, I guess.”

Cyrus looked down at the ground, at his feet, nodding. “I can understand that.”

TJ looked over at Cyrus, not moving his head, and seconds later Cyrus did the same, causing them both to break out in small laughter. “Hey, now we can watch gay movies together and I can tease you about boys!” Cyrus quipped.

TJ laughed along, the two boys leaning into each other with their shoulders, and TJ tried his best to hide the small blush appearing on his cheeks.

Maybe coming out wouldn’t be that bad.

———

So maybe coming out was that bad.

It wasn’t him, necessarily, instead it was his sister, Amber. She’d brought her girlfriend home to introduce to their parents the past weekend, and apparently it hadn’t ended well, considering TJ heard nothing about it until he visited home the following weekend.

“What do you mean I shouldn’t talk to my sister anymore? Did Amber end up in jail or something?” TJ asked, sitting by the kitchen island while his mother made herself a salad.

The woman set the small knife in her hand down on the counter and turned around to face TJ, a horrifyingly icy look etched into her eyes. “Did you know that she was a homo?”

And that’s when his heart dropped into his feet.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and hoped to god that his mother didn’t notice how his face paled at her statement, saying, “No, I had no idea.”

He stared back down at the marble on the kitchen island, memorizing every crack and crevice held inside while his mother talked about who knows what— it all sounded muddled as if he was underwater to him, and he quickly escaped the confinements of the house that no longer felt like home after dinner, pulling the excuse of having lots of extra work to do out of thin air.

That’s what it felt like he was breathing. Thin air, less and less and less of it. He was suffocating.

———

Cyrus and TJ grown a lot closer since TJ came out, their glances just a little longer and their smiles just a little softer, and their Friday movie nights almost became a unspoken mandatory thing. But Cyrus noticed that TJ had been more closed off that past week, and it especially showed when he came over to watch some movie that Friday. They settled down to the couch, but significantly further away than usual.

“What, are you not going to let me use the blanket tonight or something?” Cyrus teased with a small laugh.

TJ almost snapped out of whatever dazed state he was in and tossed Cyrus the other end of the blanket with a “Yeah, sorry.”

Cyrus looked him up and down, then put the TV remote back on the table. “You know what? No movie tonight. We’re talking about whatever the hell is throwing you off.”

“Cyrus, I don’t wanna talk about it,” TJ sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Okay, fine,” Cyrus replied, turning his body to face TJ completely. “Then we can talk about something else.”

TJ knew what he was doing, they would talk about something else and then he would pull his psychoanalyzing shit and maneuver the conversation to what was bothering him because it’s not good to bottle things up. He knew that. Maybe TJ did wanna talk about it, but he couldn’t.

“Fine, whatever.”

Cyrus fiddled with a tassel on the blanket. “Any boys?” he asked, causing TJ’s breath to hitch.

Yeah, you, but it’s not like you or anyone else can ever know that.

“TJ,” Cyrus whispered, putting his hand on TJ’s, “talk to me.”

Goddamnit.

TJ looked up into Cyrus’ eyes, trying to say something, anything, but he was frozen still. At least, he was until he noticed Cyrus looking at him with the same intensity he had. He found himself leaning in and Cyrus doing the same, the closeness almost becoming overwhelming.

“Cyrus, I—“

And then they were kissing.

It was perfect, really, the feeling was amazing and the massive choir of anxiety that seemed to hover over TJ all the time lately faded in the background for a minute. He let himself enjoy it, because the second it was over, he would have to deal with it all, with all the consequences that come with it.

After Cyrus pulled away, TJ’s eyes remained closed before slowly fluttering open. Trying to form a coherent sentence at Cyrus’ expectant gaze, the best thing he could come up with was, “Are you pitying me?”

Cyrus grew an incredulous face. “What? No, TJ, I like you.”

I like you.

Oh my god, he likes me.

“I like you, too, Cy.”

The two boys shared a soft and private smile, before Cyrus mumbled, “So, what does this mean, then?”

TJ shrugged, “I don’t know, what do you want it to mean?”

Cyrus looked at him with an incredibly adorable hopeful smile that was hard to look away from. “Boyfriends?”

Ah, shit.

Cyrus obviously could see his face drop at the word, notes by his “What?”

TJ sighed. “Cyrus, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to ask me that, for any of what’s happened today to happen. But...”

“But what? What’s the problem?” Cyrus scoffed.

“I’m still not ready for any of this. I thought I would be, I mean, I should be by now, but I’m not. I can still barely say the fucking word out loud, let alone have a public relationship and ask someone else to deal with my bullshit fear. I really, really like you, Cyrus, but there is no fucking way that I can be any form of out right now. So unless you’re cool with, like, a secret relationship, then I can’t let anything happen right now, no matter how much it devastates me.”

Cyrus just sat in silence in front of him, eyebrows furrowed in thought. TJ watched him as the warmth slowly drained out of his eyes and was replaced with ice, the one face he never thought he would see from the brunette. Cyrus started speaking, a steady yet terrifying tone to his voice, “You think I haven’t been waiting for this, TJ? Are you kidding? I’ve liked you since, like, middle school. But I can’t do that for you, I can’t have a secret relationship. I’m not going to shove myself back in the closet just because you’re scared. I did that for way too long for too many people, and there’s no way I’m doing it again. I’m too proud of who I am now to do that.” Cyrus scooted away from him on the couch, biting his nail, before adding, “I hope that one day you are too.”

“Me too,” TJ whispered, before quickly gathering his things. “I’m gonna head out.”

“I think that would be best,” Cyrus replied quietly, tone filled with disappointment.

Shutting Cyrus’ front door felt like severing a limb.

———

Two days later, TJ got an email.

It was an automated email, from Cyrus to a bunch of his closest friends, inviting them all to watch a filming of a scene for a movie he was directing. Cyrus probably forgot to remove him from the list after what happened. He wouldn’t still want him to come, would he?

He decided to go.

He showed up the next day to the set mid-scene, probably ten minutes late, and immediately took note of Cyrus sitting in his chair. He looked drained, paler than usual, irritated. TJ hates that it was probably his fault.

He stood a distance away from the rest of the standing audience, spotting Andi and Buffy across the room, older than he had last seen them but still just as lively. Andi had grown out her hair to her shoulders with a few blonde streaks in it, and Buffy donned business attire, a large briefcase next to her suggesting to him that she’d arrived there from her job. He wondered what they’d ended up doing with their lives, but he was snapped out of his reverie by Cyrus’ exclamation.

“Oh my god, are you kidding? Can’t you see the level of emotion this monologue is supposed to have? Do you need me to act this out for you?” Cyrus shouted, getting up. “Here, give me the script,” he continued angrily as he marched toward the actor, who handed him the script fearfully.

Cyrus began reading, fully in character, not taking his eyes off the paper at first. “I know it’s gotta be hard for you, right? I mean, you have all these expectations to live up to, most of which come from your own head. I know you’re scared, Tyler. But don’t you think that I am, too? I’ve got expectations, too. I have so many people that hate me for who I am without even knowing who I am. I used to be so fucking terrified of it all, for god’s sake, my parents hated it too. But I’m proud of myself now. I don’t hate it anymore, I can’t hate something I can’t control. You can’t either.”

Cyrus looked up from the paper, locking eyes with TJ. TJ didn’t think those eyes could possibly get any deeper.

“You could be up here with me, above all of those shitty high school bullies and annoying parents and idiot strangers. I know that you have it in you, Tyler. You should give yourself the ability to be whoever the hell you want to be. You deserve to be yourself, don’t you understand that?”

Cyrus took a step forward. He was speaking to TJ now, it was obvious to anyone watching. But for some reason, it felt like no one was.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

And damnit, TJ broke.

He stormed out quickly, not angrily, but instead trying to hide the free flowing tears dripping off his face.

Inside, Cyrus dropped the script, saying quietly while moving to follow TJ out, “Uh, just excuse me for a minute.”

TJ had made his way well down the sidewalk, but Cyrus caught up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. TJ whipped around, wiping his face, to which Cyrus responded softly, “You came.”

TJ closed eyes for a moment before mumbling, “Of course I came.”

Cyrus launched into a ramble, “TJ, I didn’t mean to make that about you, I just’ve been so hung up over this, the movie isn’t even related to what’s going on and, god, I’m sorry I didn’t remove you from the goddamn email list, I—“

“You were right, though,” TJ interrupted.

“What?” Cyrus froze.

“You were right.” TJ took a step closer to him. “I shouldn’t be afraid anymore.”

“But what about what you said? About not being ready?” Cyrus whispered, also inching closer to him.

“I’m still not, Cy. I’m terrified,” TJ admitted, “because once I face it, it’s real, I can’t hide it away anymore.”

“Oh.”

“But,” TJ continued, taking another step forward, “if you’re willing to wait just a little longer, I will be ready. I just need time.” At Cyrus’ speechless gaze, he added, “I promise it won’t be another ten years, though.”

“TJ, I’m not hiding again,” Cyrus stated, the most sure he’d been this entire conversation.

“You won’t be.” TJ took a hold of one of Cyrus’ hands. “Just be there for me like you always have been, and I promise you, it’ll happen. I like you too much for it not to.”

“You promise?” Cyrus asked in a whisper.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” TJ replied, his voice raspy and smile soft and small.

Cyrus closed his eyes, sighing. “Alright.”

“Good.”

———

“How about we do something different tonight?” TJ suggested, only two weeks after he made his promise. He had a plan to fulfill it that night.

“What, do you want to watch Hulu instead of Netflix or something?” Cyrus asked, confused.

“No, I mean, let’s go to the movies,” TJ suggested, a wide grin on his face.

A hesitant smile slid its way onto Cyrus’ expression. “You never want to go out, why?”

TJ shrugged, the grin not leaving his face. “Thought it could be fun.”

Cyrus squinted, then smirked. “Drive-in?”

“Like you even need to ask,” TJ scoffed. “Let’s go.”

•••

They had pulled into the lot playing Love, Simon and Booksmart, a hazy glow setting the mood as dusk settles over the crowd. Small fireflies dot the sky, and Cyrus watched them with amazement. TJ looked with amazement too, but not at the fireflies, instead at the brunette boy next to him, wrapped under their shared blanket in the trunk of TJ’s car.

It was in that moment that TJ really got a good look at him; maybe it was the streetlight making his hair glow with a golden tint, or the way the moon reflected in his eyes, but he noticed something here never really had before. There was still his classic smile and the same cheerful brown eyes, but he was no longer the person that TJ had met long ago in middle school. He had grown into his figure, no longer lanky like he was in high school and stood only an inch shorter than himself. He wore less button ups than he used to, especially those with patterns, and TJ couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a cardigan. He held himself differently than he used to, as well; he seemed more confident, less falling into himself and more chin raised up with somewhat of a sense of pride. He wasn’t the person TJ had gotten to know. He had changed, and TJ got to witness it, he got to see him truly come into his own.

He realized then that this was his chance to do the same.

“Cyrus?” TJ whispered, causing the brunette to tear his eyes away from Simon having a heart to heart with his mother.

“Hm?”

TJ’s voice was caught in his throat, not knowing what to say, where to start, and it was apparently enough for Cyrus to notice, as after a beat, he asked quietly, “Is there something you wanna tell me?”

“Yeah,” he rasped out, inching his hand ever so slightly towards Cyrus’.

Cyrus scooted closer to him, took TJ’s hand in his, and intertwined their fingers. “Then say it.”

TJ’s hand was practically burning, and if he turned his head just a smidge, their faces would be a mere inch apart. It was as if every molecule in his body, every force in the universe was screaming at him to just do it, just say something. “I can’t,” he whispered.

“Why not?” Cyrus asked, matching tone, and this caused TJ to turn his head.

The two boys looked at each other for a moment, as if they were both mapping out every detail of the other’s face, committing every scar and freckle to memory— that is, until TJ shifted his gaze down to Cyrus’ lips, for only a moment, a millisecond.

That must’ve been what did it, what made him snap, because then they were kissing.

It was nothing like the first one, really. The first one was questioning, a puzzle piece sliding into place, figuring out that yes, this is what I want. But this one, this one was passionate, it was I never want to lose you again, it was you’re what was meant for me this entire time, I need you, I love you...

Okay, maybe a little early for that one.

Regardless, it was perfect, and he could see the slight fear in Cyrus’ eyes when they pulled away.

“I have never wanted anything more than to be with you, Cyrus. You know that, right?” TJ mumbled, slightly out of breath.

Cyrus nodded, taking a long blink.

“And, I...” TJ looked down, fiddling with his fingers. He continued, “I’d love to be your boyfriend, if you’ll take me.”

Cyrus smiled at him, almost blinding, filled with affection and pride. He nodded, throwing his arms around TJ’s neck in a tight hug, and TJ held him back just as tight.

———

TJ never told his parents, he never felt like he needed to. He never told his parents when him and Cyrus had started dating, and he never told them three years later that the two of them had gotten engaged. Which is why some may have found it odd that he sent a wedding invitation to them with no warning. Needless to say, they never RSVP’d.

It might’ve been weird to that same some that neither of the two men’s families were at the wedding, no parents of either groom present for slow dances, only many, many friends that they had made throughout the years, old and new. But it was perfect to them. It was theirs.

#andi mack #tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #my fic #my writing #fic #jtky universe

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secretblog1212 · 5 years ago

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Fuck, Marry, Kill.

So this is kind of really shit but I can’t figure out how to make it not shitty so here you go folks. XD sorry. Pretty much more High Steve with Robin just chilling with hints of sad because oof. Not a ship, they just friends.

The store was empty for the first time in three, long, trying, and teenage filled hours. Needless to say Steve and Robin were dead on their feet as they closed up shop.

Robin was quick to lock the doors, and Steve sped threw mopping the ‘poop deck’, otherwise known as the shops front. Chairs were flipped and scoops were washed at record speed. Robin was about to grab her purse when Steve stopped her.

“Hey Rob, I was wondering if you wanted to smoke tonight? We could just throw a movie in or something.”

Well that was new. Not that she didn’t know Steve smoked every now and then, but she’s never been invited before. They had been getting closer over the summer, so it kind of made sense, and hey, if he was going to offer it out for free who was she to say no.

“Sure, just let me go home and change first, meet you at yours in about an hour?”

Steve’s smile was damn near blinding. He nodded along eagerly, and they split off, Robin heading to where her mom was picking her up and Steve to his car.

After five minutes of small talk Robin decided she couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Hey mom, I was wondering if I could hang out at a friends house tonight. They’re having a movie night, I know it’s kind of last minute but I thought it might be okay since I’m off tomorrow anyway.”

She hummed in thought, “Who’s house is it?”

“The boy I work with, Steve, I’ve told you about him before.”

“He won’t try to get in your pants?”

Robin couldn’t hold back her laugh, “Not a chance, he knows I like girls mom.”

The elders face lit up, “Oh of course then Honey, I’ll drop you off whenever your ready and maybe he can take you home tomorrow.” She relented, relaxing back into her seat.

They pulled into their driveway and Robin made quick work of showering and getting comfy close for the night. Clad in sweat pants and an old band t-shirt she threw her still wet hair up in a messy bun and gathered her favorite blanket in a bag. Down stairs her mother was watching the end to the nightly news.

“Ready Mom!”

The brunette turned and did a once over of her daughter. Concluding that she was appropriately dressed for a sleepover she picked her purse up from the coffee table and the two made their way out the door.

A quick drive later and they were pulling into the Harrington’s long driveway, the first floors lights sprinkled to show where exactly Steve was.

Her mom wished her well and Robin made her way to the doorbell. Soft chimes sounded through the house.

The double doors were yanked open to reveal none other than Steve Harrington himself, ushering her inside and waving to her mom as she pulled away.

“Welcome, welcome to the wonderfully cozy Harrington residence. We have two of fifty rooms occupied, my bedroom and the living room, feel free to pick either to get fucked up in.”

Robin eyed the blank walls of the too clean house. It just wasn’t Steve at all, it seemed empty? Lonely? Like some Hallmark mansion, just not realistic at all. Down the hall she could see the flashing glow of a television and pointed. “There.”

“Living room it is then.” Steve hummed with a soft nod. “That’s where I got everything prepared so I was hoping you’d say that.”

God he was a dingus.

There was a large L shaped couch in the middle of the room, a TV facing it against the wall on top of a dresser like stand, and a coffee table littered with snacks, movies, and a few blunts between the two. Given the stack of blankets already pulled out Robin assumed that tonight was going to be filled with warm, cozy cuddling and lazy conversations.

She wasn’t complaining though. She plopped down on the bouncy cushion and reached to flip through the movie choices.

“Anything in mind Harrington?”

“Nothing particular. They’re mostly horror though.”

That raised an eyebrow, hadn’t he already had enough horror in his life already? “You a big fan of horror then?” she asked.

Steve just kind of huffed then chuckled. “My dad says a real man doesn’t watch musicals or romance stuff. He only allows ‘manly’ movies in his house, don’t you want to watch a manly movie Rob?”

Robin just rolled her eyes and mumbled. “Wouldn’t know good movies if it hit him.” But she loved a good horror movie herself, she grabbed the copy of Nightmare on Elms Street and waved it in Steve’s face. “Pop her in then buddy.”

A minute later and they were situating blankets across the two of them as trailers flickered across the screen. Really Robin thought five blankets was a little excessive but Steve seemed to think it was lacking. He leaned forward and grabbed the pre popped popcorn, a lighter, and the first blunt of the night.

Ever the gentleman Steve gave her the first hit. She held it in her mouth, coaxing it down her throat while he took his own puff. After a few seconds she opened her mouth and let the smoke find its own way out, floating from her mouth and into the air like a cloud.

Steve was not as patient or content to see the slow going process, after a few seconds he blew the air out like flames from a dragon's mouth.

They traded it back and forth, watching each other’s different tricks as the drug slowly took effect, till the movie started up, their eyes glued to the screen.

Something Robin realized fairly quickly was that Steve was not a fan of horror movies. She could feel him slowly pressing further against her, flinching when things got too jumpy. She couldn’t blame him, besides if she could help comfort him through this one then she could find at least one happy movie to put in next, right?

After a particularly gruesome scene she decided she couldn’t wait that long. You might be thinking, why doesn’t she just say she wants to change the movie? Well, the thought didn’t even cross her mind. Instead she moves in with a quick distraction.

“That Nancy Thompson is pretty cute right?”

Steve stares up at her for a few seconds before nodding. Hell yeah she was cute.

“And that Glen dude, any character Johnny Depp plays is going to be eye candy.”

“Yeah.”

Good. If she had him talking then he wasn’t paying attention to the movie.

“Quick! Fuck marry kill, Johnny, Nancy girl, or Tina?”

He stuttered for a few seconds, his mind wrapping around the character selection. “Umm, kill Tina, Marry Johnny and fuck Nancy?”

Robin couldn’t help but laugh at how unsure he sounded.

“Hey well how about you?”

“Mmm,” she paused to think. “Kill Johnny, Marry Tina, fuck Nancy.”

The game kept up with characters before moving onto people they knew in real life. “Clair Burk, Tommy H, and Carol.”

Steve huffed long and hard for that one, taking another drag before even contemplating. Robin thought about her own answer as well, Clair was pretty cute, and surely Carol would have some redeeming qualities. Tommy was a nice guy if you caught him around the right people, but prone to violence, she’d have to go with “I’d marry Clair, fuck Carol and kill Tommy.”

Steve actually laughed at that one. “Understandable, understandable. But get this okay. Fuck Tommy, kill Clair, Marry Carol.” He was quick to continue when Robins head jerked to look at him, eyebrows raised. “I’ve known them for a super long time, right? So marry Carol cause we could just act like friends, and like I know you like girls and all but Tommy is kinda cute. He has freckles Rob, freckles. And he’s super strong-“

She stopped him before it could get graphic “Woah woah woah keep it PG, I don’t need a full description of how you’d want him to give it to you.”

They’d cycled through most of the kids in their grade that they both knew by the time the credits started to roll.

Steve sat up and stared her down, excited not unlike a golden retriever.

“Wait wait wait okay okay. So. Watch, sleepover with, or dinner with, kid addition.”

Color her intrigued. She gestured for him to continue. “Okay So Mike, Dustin and Max?”

The kids had grown on her since that night at the Mall, she’s like to think they were all friends. “Okay so watch Max, Sleepover with Dustin and Dinner with Mike.”

Steve burst into laughter.

Fine, if he was going to just laugh at her she’d give him something to laugh at.

Robin turned to face him and reached to grab ahold of his side, squeezing away at the fleshy skin. “Oh your going to laugh at me? Well you have a better idea Dingus?”

Steve’s laughter doubled and his hands grabbed onto her wrists. No matter how hard he tried to squirm to the other side of the couch he was stuck. Their legs had gotten tangled in the many many blankets about an hour ago, and neither had the motivation to unstick themselves.

Boy does he wish he had.

“I was lahaughihing cause mihine is the sahahme! Ihits the sahame.”

Oh. Well, no reason for her to stop. “Yeah, cause Mike's a shithead and gets in trouble, of course it was going to be the same! But now look at you Stevey, Hmm let me think of one.” She slowed down for a second, focusing in on who she would pair up. “How about Lucas, Jane, and Will? I won’t stop tickling you till you answer.”

I Steve kicked out as she moved her way up his ribs, digging between the bone. Somehow he ended up with his back against her, trapping himself.

“Wahahtch Lucas, dineher with Jahanehe, Wihihill sleheep ohover!”

She slowed down her fingers, not quite stopping but changing to fluttery touches that left him giggling.

Steve’s arms felt heavy and all he could think about was the tingling of her nails over his stomach and neck. He let his hands drop into his lap and threw his head back onto Robins shoulder.

“It feheheels weirherd.”

Robin leaned down to his ear to tease the poor boy. “Do you mean it tickles Steve?”

The boy nodded, hiding his blush in the crook of her neck.

“Come on, you can say it buddy. Tick-le, easy peasy.”

Steve burrowed deeper into her neck, hiding himself away from the word.

“Fine,” she huffed. “If you won’t say it then at least tell me that you like it. It’s kind of obvious at this point.”

He only leaned further onto her, probably hoping to disappear.

“Well that just confirmed it Dingus.” She cooed.

She kept up the light touches till Steve’s face had lost some of its pink. He was still squirming occasionally when her fingers strayed a bit to close to his side, and he rolled himself so they were chest to chest.

If she was wondering what kind of stoned Steve would be before she had her answer. He was touchy and clingy when high, and it somehow fit perfectly even with his previous bad boy routine.

His breathing evened out and he was fully slumped against her.

Robin stretched as far as she could for the remote and a bag of chips before laying herself back down. Now that Steve was actually asleep she could try and really watch the movie. What were best friends for if not being a pillow anyway?

#steve harrington #cuddly steve #steve and robin #high steve #robin buckley #high robin #tickles #ler robin #just best friends #stranger things #st #tickle fic #fic

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thepartyresponsible · 6 years ago

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happy halloween! here’s halloween fill #10. this one is for @arsenicjade, who asked for hauntings/ghosts + jason.

so here’s jason todd, haunting dick grayson.

don’t worry. it’s a benevolent haunting. but it is, like all things bat-related, emotionally fraught and unnecessarily complicated.

Hauntings are serious things. Sometimes dangerous, always inconvenient. Bruce picked up a poltergeist once that screamed every time he closed his eyes and threw knives whenever he walked through a kitchen. There was no rest in the Manor until Alfred and Dick conspired to sneak in a psychic to banish the thing.

This haunting, though. It feels like something else.

“Dick,” it hums, crackling at the edges of discernable frequencies, simultaneously almost too low and too high to hear. “Prodigal sons come home.”

“Could you not?” he asks, as politely as he can. “I’m busy right now.”

“You’re dying,” it says. It’s impossible to tell how the spirit feels about that, if it feels anything at all.

“Well, you’d be the expert,” Dick says, as he hauls himself farther away from the edge of the building and presses his back against a helpful gargoyle.

It’s December, and it’s cold, and Dick wouldn’t have gone out tonight, except Bruce found Jason’s Christmas stocking earlier, and Dick had taken off on patrol so fast he hadn’t even bothered to suit up all the way.

Which is too bad, really, because the body armor would’ve stopped most of the knives.

“Call Bruce,” the voice says.

Dick’s eyes slide closed. He breathes. It’s cold up here, and getting colder. He should call Bruce, tell him to come pick him up before he loses consciousness.

Bruce is going to have a fit if Dick dies too. He’s going to fill the Cave with monuments to his dead. He’s going to do more of that thing he’s been doing lately, where he just stares off into the middle-distance and doesn’t answer when Dick says his name.

“Dick,” the voice repeats. There’s a hum and a shift, and Dick feels sunshine on his face, the warmth of a crackling fire filling him up from the pit of his stomach, radiating outward. “C’mon, Nightwing,” the voice says, “be a hero. Save yourself.”

Dick gasps, jerks fully awake. The energy feels electric, like he just pressed his tongue against the biggest battery in the world.

“Batman,” he says, fumbling for the comm. “Need some help. Got a bit stabbed.” He lists the location, hears the first murmur of Bruce’s reply, and then sags back against the gargoyle, going quiet and frozen and fuzzy all over again.

“There you go,” the voice says. The warmth fades and blooms, like a tide, like a heartbeat. “Don’t fall asleep, Dick. Stay awake.”

Dick blinks his eyes open. There’s a figure crouched over him, small and slender, a smear of reds and greens and shadow. The figure flickers, disappears entirely if Dick looks at it straight on.

“Who are you?” he asks, because he owes this spirit a favor. “What d’you need?”

He’ll help it, when he can. When he’s better. Help it find whatever it needs to move on.

“Gotta save some people,” the figure tells him. It echoes, sounds like a child speaking. Sounds, somehow, almost familiar. “Gotta make him proud.”

Dick breathes out. His head falls back against the stone, and he concentrates on the warmth, because the cold feels like it might kill him. “Well,” he says, with a smile, “can’t help you there.”

Dick’s never been haunted before. Not personally. He’s distantly aware that he shouldn’t be flattered by it, but the spirit seems nice enough. Helpful, even. It comes and goes, and Dick can’t track how often it’s around, because most of the time it seems to lack either the interest or the strength necessary to show itself.

It mostly announces its presence by saving his life.

There’s one time in Blüdhaven when a man tries to shoot him and get walloped across the face, hard, with his own gun. There’s another, in Gotham, when a particularly clever assassin cuts Dick’s grappling line, and he doesn’t realize until he’s safely on the ground that there’s absolutely no tension on the line and nothing that could’ve been holding him up.

And then there’s the time the Joker corners him in a warehouse, and he’s wounded and bleeding, lying on a tricky piece of scaffolding and trying not to make any noise. The spirit keeps flickering beside him, and, if he concentrates, he can hear small, scared noises that sound like the ghost is crying.

“You’re okay,” Dick says, softly. “He can’t hurt you. You’re already dead.”

“I don’t want to watch him kill you,” it whispers back.

Dick swallows and breathes out.

“I don’t want to,” it says again, low and miserable.

“I can’t,” it says, fitful, fervent, growing louder.

“I won’t,” it says, and it’s a growl this time, low and hateful and demonic, rising into an unholy shriek of rage that seems to shake the whole building.

The Joker is dragged out by his throat and thrown so hard that he crashes into a parked delivery van a block and a half away.

“Thanks,” Dick says, but the spirit’s faded to almost nothing. There’s a spark of red and green, and then Dick doesn’t see it again for weeks.

Dick tries not to think about who the spirit is likely to be. Or who it used to be, anyway. Some days that’s easier than others.

The first night Tim Drake suits up and hits the streets of Gotham, something hurls the Bat-Signal off the roof of GCPD. It hurtles all the way to the ground and crashes into a dumpster. No one is hurt.

“I think there’s another poltergeist,” Bruce tells him, later. “There’s been activity in the Cave, too.”

What he means, Dick eventually learns, is that, on the first night Tim wore the Robin suit, every pane of glass in Bruce’s macabre monument to Jason was blown out, and the suit itself was ripped to shreds and scattered around the Cave like trash in a storm.

The spirit is restless afterwards, and Dick can’t walk into a room without every single piece of paper flapping and spinning and, sometimes, flying straight up into the air. He sets off smoke detectors for a week straight.

“Okay,” Dick says, “you’ve gotta calm down. I can’t work like this.”

The spirit mutters at a frequency he can’t quite hear. It says the same thing, over and over again, voice rising like it’s being hurt but never resolving into something he can understand.

“I want to help you,” Dick says, as the spirit cracks every egg in the dozen he brings home and breaks his coffeepot and tears up the only picture of Bruce in the apartment.

“You can’t let him make you this upset,” Dick says, finally, patience breaking. “It doesn’t do any good. He won’t even fucking notice.”

The spirit goes dormant, and everything around Dick goes silent and still and lifeless.

The spirit comes back a little over a month later. It seems subdued.

“Hey,” Dick says. “If you’ll tell me what you’re waiting around for, I’ll help you with it.”

“Not going to,” the spirit says. Its voice is faded and fluttery, like wind moving through dead leaves in winter, like the pulse of someone slipping away.

“Not going to what?” Dick asks.

There’s a buzzing sound reminiscent of the faint drone of insect’s wings. Dick feels something cold brush against the back of his neck, and he doesn’t flinch, but it’s a near thing.

“Stuck,” it says. “Tried to sleep,” it murmurs, “in the coffin.”

It gets caught on that phrase for a while, mutters it over and over while Dick drinks his coffee and eats his cereal. “In the coffin,” it says, low and quiet. “In the coffin, in the coffin, in the coffin.”

“It’s ugly down there,” it says, sudden and sharp and clear, right up against his ear. It feels like breath against his skin, cool and faint, unnatural. He shivers.

“Well,” Dick says, squaring his jaw and trying to keep the discomfort off his face. “You can stay with me as long as you need.”

“Thanks, Dick,” it says, and those words sound loud and familiar, sound exactly like something that was shouted years ago by a boy on his birthday, unwrapping a present from someone who should have been around more, should have looked after him, should have protected him.

“Thanks, Dick,” it repeats, caught in another loop, and it says that over and over again as Dick walks to work, every step an echo of gratitude Dick never really earned.

The spirit haunts him for three and a half years. Dick grows so used to its presence that he develops a sense for it. Prolonged exposure can do that. John Constantine swears he can smell a ghost from seven blocks away, and Dick’s nowhere near that sensitive, but he gets a feel for hauntings.

He knows the girl down in Records is haunted by something malevolent, but her steady, steely eyes suggest she’s aware and working to contain it as best as she can.

His own spirit usually feels like the projected warmth of a hearth fire and something else, something that isn’t noise or pressure but both at the same time. It’s that odd, liminal sensation, the in-between of ears about to pop after a drop in altitude. Dick doesn’t realize how used to it he is until he wakes up one morning, and it’s gone.

The spirit dissolves like dew, and it does not come back.

Dick starts having nightmares of being buried alive, but, when he crawls his way to the surface, he’s in Jason’s grave, not his own.

“Dig it up,” he tells Bruce. “Dig it up, or I will.”

“What are you talking about?” Bruce says. “Did you hear something? Did someone say--”

“I’m saying,” Dick says. “I’m saying that if you don’t dig up that grave, I’m doing it myself.”

When they dig up the coffin, it’s empty. Bruce falls right into the newest mystery, and Dick goes home with a bottle of Bruce’s whiskey and tries not to think about what kind of magic could be done with the bones of a former Robin. He drinks until the warmth of the whiskey settles over him like the spirit that’s gone missing, and he tries not to think about how that spirit would feel, if someone hauled up its body and made it into a monster.

When he wakes up the next morning, the window’s open, and Jason Todd is sitting on his kitchen counter, finishing off that bottle of whiskey.

“Hey, Dick,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like he’s been here every morning, kicking his heels in the air and downing booze he’s definitely not old enough to touch.

“Jesus,” Dick says, shoving himself up off the couch. “Jason?”

He’s older than he used to be. There’s an achey, fragile look in his eyes and a defiant set to his mouth. He sets the whiskey bottle aside and slides off the counter, and his feet hit the floor with a new, ominous weight.

“He put a kid in our suit, Dick,” he says. There’s something slightly otherworldly about him, like maybe he’s not fitting so neatly back into the cage of bone and skin. “He put a kid in our suit and left the Joker walking. I was rotting.”

“I know,” Dick says. “Jason--”

“You shine,” Jason tells him. He rubs at his eyes. He shifts and feints, heels of his palms pressed hard into his eye sockets. “Did you know? It was dark back there, and I couldn’t find Bruce. Couldn’t even see him. But you’re so damn bright I could see you from anywhere.”

Dick moves forward carefully. “Jason,” he says, again. “How’d you come back?”

“Body’s been walking for a while,” he says. He thumps his fist against his chest, too hard, doesn’t even seem to notice he’s hurting himself. “Talia dropped the body in the Pit, dragged me back in here.”

A Lazarus Pit can make anyone crazy, and Dick’s heard horror stories of spirits coming back into bodies they’d abandoned. It’s a hard thing, being caged again. People forget about gravity and physics and pain, can’t remember how to translate thirst and hunger. They walk straight off of rooftops still thinking they can fly.

“Kid’s bright, too,” Jason says. He drops his hands away from his eyes. They’re bloodshot and empty, and Dick’s struck by the bizarre, disorienting idea that this whole time, somehow, Jason’s been haunting himself.

“I’ve got,” Jason says, brow furrowing up, hands curling into fists at his side. “I’m dark too, just like him. It’s in me. It wants things even. Wants things fair. Wants to kill him, Dick.”

Dick catches his breath, and Jason looks up at him, miserable and scared, just a lost kid spat up on a shore he doesn’t remember, breathing with lungs he hasn’t used for years.

Someone should’ve found a way to make this kid better, instead of finding a way to make him useful.

“I want to kill him, Dick,” Jason says. “I want to kill Bruce.”

“Yeah, Jason,” Dick says, “sometimes I want to kill him, too.”

Jason sags, shoulders slumping, neck bent at a strange angle that’s going to leave him with a muscle ache if he doesn’t get it straightened out soon. The skin around his eyes is bruised, and there are scabbed-up scratches all over his hands that should’ve been washed out hours ago.

Jason used to know how to take care of himself better than any kid Dick’s ever known. Better than any kid should have to.

Jason’s lost. But lost is better than dead. Dick can fix lost.

“C’mon, Jay,” he says. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

Jason wavers, balance shifting. He catches himself and overcorrects, and then huffs out a soft breath and wraps his arms around himself. “Can I stay here?” he asks. “Just for a couple days? If I go back to Gotham, I have to be something else.”

“I told you,” Dick says, as he goes into the kitchen and finds the least stale box of cereal, pulls the milk out of the fridge. “Remember? I told you that you can stay as long as you need.”

Jason stares at him, eyes blank and unblinking, exactly like someone who’s forgotten the purpose and execution of facial expressions. After a long, uncomfortable moment, he slowly bullies his mouth into a decent approximation of a smile. “Thanks, Dick,” he says.

It sounds nothing like that kid Dick used to know. There’s very little about the teenager standing in his living room that looks like that bright-eyed kid who died in uniform.

But that’s alright.

Dick’s spent the last three and a half years clocking everything Jason missed, counting all the good days he got to live while Jason was in the ground. There’s a faint, horrifying idea in the back of Dick’s head that the reason Jason could never move on was that Dick was never ready to let him go.

However death-rattled and spirit-shocked he is, Jason standing in his living room is a miracle. If there’s an admission price to coming back, Dick will find a way to help him pay it.

He slides the bowl of cereal across the counter. “Eat up,” he says. “You’ve got a lot of catch up on.”

#writing #fic #fill #spooky season fic #jason todd #dick grayson

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