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soulmate-game · 3 years ago

Note

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #bio!mom Wonder Woman #Bio!mom Diana prince #bio!dad Bruce Wayne #Bio!dad Batman #idk what this is #but it happened #and it’s something

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thr-333 · 4 years ago

Text

Just Another Class Trip :)

Part 1

No, no ignore the smily face i assure you it means nothing foreboding, nothing foreboding at all.

Next >

---------

“It’s suspicious,” Marinette glares as they leave customs.

“What would that be, Mari?” Chloe yawns, not bothering to dedicate her limited remaining brain power apparently.

“Lila,” She whispers back, “She’s been so quiet all the way here,”

“What about how she weaseled her way into first class?” Chloe yawns again, sleep mask resting on her head.

“Or tried to steal your bag,” Kagami says with venom, her having saved Marinette from that disaster.

“Accused you of giving her the wrong flight time,” Adrien adds, somehow being full awake even after their long flight.

“Slipped metal into your pocket so security would go off,” Chloe downright glares at Adrien, but would never admit to the bags under her eyes.

“Came by and woke you up every time you fell asleep,” Kagami looks at her pointedly, shadows under her eyes being her only give away.

“Too quite,” Marinette whispers, the list going largely ignored as they approach the security scan.

“Just relax Mari,” Adrien pats her shoulder, not enough to break her concentration, “Lila will be so distracted by being in Gotham she won't have time for you,”

Adrien was wrong.

Of course he was wrong.

This is Lila they're talking about.

“Oh Marinette!” Lila all but yells as Marinette is placing her bag in a tray, “I’m so glad you didn’t go through with it,”

Marinette cringes, the security guards all looking her way as Lila dances off. She just sighs as she is escorted away by the airport security, to the protest of her friends and not much else.

“No sir I am not holding any firearms or weapons,” Marinette answers as monotone as possible, the security guard didn’t deserve her ire not matter how tiresome this was getting.

“We interview the source,” Oh no “Apparently you were discussing terrorist activities,”

“I was not sir, Lila must be mistaken,” Yep big mistake, I’m sure that's all it is , “I’m simply here for a class trip,”

“You’re wearing a bulletproof vest,”

Yeah probably should have left that one at home

“My parents are protective, they know how dangerous Gotham can be,” They were not fans of the horror stories Aunt Selina used to tell her from this city, “They insisted I have it as protection,”

While they most certainly wanted her to be safe the vest was more her idea. It was also more for enabling trouble than avoiding it. At least she was trying to be safe about secret crime fighting.

“Makes sense,” He sighs from across the table, checking through some paperwork, “You’re seventeen, here on a class trip right?”

“Yes sir,”

“Well if you’re here on a Wayne funded trip they probably did and extensive background check,” He pauses for a minute looking deep in thought, “Alright then, you can go,”

That seems kind of lax

“Are you sure?”

“We literally have super villains walking through here every other day,” True that, “You’re holding no weapons and have been endorsed by the Wayne's that's better than most people that have been in here,”

“Well if you’re sure,” Marinette stands awkwardly walking to the door as he waves her off, “Is there anything I need to sign, or…”

“Unless I want to fill out extra paperwork, no,” He seems so tired, Marinette wished she could get back at Lila for making his job harder.

“Have a good day then!” She smiles brightly, getting a small one in return.

She leaves, the security guards handing back her bag, fortunately not mentioning the miracle box or her Kwamis. She smiles brightly, even with Lila trying to ruin her trip she could still enjoy her time here in Gotham- and her phone buzzes with an Akuma alert.

With a sigh, Marinette ducks into the nearest bathroom, locking a stall behind her.

“Kaalki,” The Kwami zips out of her bag, “Tikki, Combine,”

With a flash of light followed by another she appears in Paris dropping Kaalki’s transformation.

She looks over the city, some Akuma attacking the Eiffel tower. At least they didn't seem to be the brainwashing type, she didn’t have Chat Noir there to help with crowd control.

With a flip she jumps, planning to kick the Akuma on the way down. They dodge and she lands in front of them instead.

“Well, well if it isn’t the bug,” The Akuma, in a horrible patch work costume mocks, a purple mask appearing over their face, “Hand over your miraculous!”

How about you come and make me Hawkmoth? I promise to stick that cane up your ass

Oh how she wishes she could say just that, but it wouldn't be very Ladybug of her. Why did the younger her have to have a stick up her butt?

“Not today Hawkmoth,” She says instead, making sure to put the practiced amount of enthusiasm into it, “Or any other day for that matter,”

“How are you going to save Paris without your little kitty cat?”

How are you going to beat me with that terrible fashion sense

Besides Chat Noir deserved a break. At least she hoped he was taking a break, he couldn’t tell because of secret identity reasons. It wasn't like she had any right to stop him, she was having a vacation in Gotham right now, and she was out all the time for work. She could manage without Chat for a while, he deserved that much.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect the people of Paris,” Ladybug remembers to answer the question.

“Hand over your miraculous now!” The Akuma lunges at her

I should have chosen a different persona

She dodges the beam of light that can’t mean anything good. Jumping back to get some distance.

Chat Noir had the right idea

She bites back the cutting remark on the tip of her tongue. Instead throw out her yo to wrap around their arm. The Akuma pulls it forward, sending her through the air. She leans into it swinging around to get a better vantage point, studying the monologuing Akuma below.

Maybe I can for Starling

She has created Starling as a vigilante identity to use in Gotham, if the class was ever in trouble. No not if, when . With a sigh she summons her lucky charm getting a table tennis paddle.

Although I’m only meant to use that identity as a disguise to protect the class

The only thing that stood out was the Akuma's hand, she'd have to gather more information before striking.

Maybe Starling can have a word or two with Lila, that could be fun

She drops down in front of the Akuma. They seemed to like monologuing, maybe all she had to do was probe a little bit.

“Why would you want to side with Hawkmoth?”

“This is my family's greatest heirloom it has been passed from generation to generation for centuries, some fool broke it and I was crushed having disappointed all my ancestors!” The Akuma holds up a broach type jewel, “But Hawkmoth- Hawkmoth brought it back and now my greatest and dearest treasure will forever be-”

Ladybug smacks it to the ground, crushing it underfoot.

The Akuma looks at her shocked, letting out a long drawn out gasp. Marinette does not meet their eye as she catches the Akuma. She throws the paddle she used to smack it out of their hand into the air to cast the cure.

I must be really jet lagged, I’m usually at least a little more creative than that, but it worked

She pretends not to see the reporters coming in for interviews, seeing the victim and their broach in one piece. She makes a speedy exit, needing to transport back to Gotham before the class get too ancy.

“I’m sorry the rented bus left a long time ago,” The attendant informed her, looking sorry for the dishevelled teen.

Marinette groaned, so much for running around the airport for thirty minutes with a dead phone. Thanking the attendant she sulks off to collect her bag instead, she’d have to figure another way to the hotel.

She spends another hour hunting down her bag. Chasing after leads of people who might have mistook it. Checking again with Airport security, who again pulled her aside for having a suspicious missing bag. Luckily the security guard before defended her, she brought him a coffee and two for herself.

“Maybe someone will return it?” Tikki whispers, her and Kaalki hidden in the folds of her scarf.

“It’s fine Tikki,” Marinette sighs, halfway through her first cup in under a minute, “I have replicas of all of them anyway, I’ll just grab some samples from the MDC fashion show,”

She’d have to stop by later, the outfits should have been transported last week along with most of her recent catalogue. The only problem was all the other necessities she lost. But that wasn’t a problem, she carried the miracle box in her backpack and that's all that really matters.

“And some of my… special outfits when we go back home,”

She had altered her current outfit to transform into her vigilante disguise. Her scarf pulled up and could be turned inside out into a mask. Her skirt could be transformed into a cape and hood combo. A zip down the middle of the skirt to split it for the cape and a zip up hood that lay flat along her skirt. She simply turned it inside out and wore it around her shoulders. Combined with a bullet proof vest it wasn't half bad, her belt full of weapons could always be hid under her skirt which was a big plus.

She sighs waiting for a taxi in the cold Gotham air, hating it more than most. Although she supposed superhuman strength was a fair exchange for extra cold fingers. Marinette fought to stay awake, she had also been holding Kaalki for so long she was starting to develop the ability to sleep standing up and would doze off randomly. Certainly helpful at times, but not right now.

“Hello,” Marinette is startled out of her drowsiness.

She looks at the hesitant young man before her, looking just as tired as she is.

“Hello?”

“Is something the matter?” Something sparks at the back of her mind, a feeling she often gets from Chloe whenever she is helpful.

Do I look that bad?

“Just a mix up with transportation,” She smiles, he clearly knows it’s fake.

“Do you need a ride?”

“No I’m-” She sighs, what could go wrong getting in the car of a random person in Gotham, “Yes, I do thank you,”

“Over here, I’m Tim by the way” He stifles a yawn, leading her towards a limousine, the door being opened by a driver.

“Marinette, here,” She hands over the extra coffee, “You look like you need it just as much as me,”

Tim looks at her like a god sent, taking the coffee as they reach the limo.

“Good call Alfred,” Tim whispers to the driver, slipping into the car.

“Hello miss, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” She shakes his hand, something stronger fires at the back of her mind, a true holder perhaps? But Chloe was a true holder right?

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” She smiles, trying to assess what miraculous would suit him.

“Best get inside Miss Dupain-Cheng,” She climbs inside at Alfred's behest, “Gotham is awfully cold for a Lady,”

She gets the feeling that is not chivalry.

“Where to Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Alfred asks, already in the driver's seat.

“Wayne hotel please,” She pulls her backpack onto her lap, still regarding Alfred suspiciously.

“Traveling alone?” Tim asks absentmindedly, still nursing his coffee cup.

“I’m here with my class, they left without-” No that's no good , “I got held up they went ahead,”

“Class… staying at the Wayne hotel…” Tim mumbles to himself.

“I believe what Master Tim is trying to ask is if you are part of the Martha Wayne foundation trip,” Alfred informs from the front seat.

“Yeah that,” Tim takes another scalding gulp of coffee.

“Yes I sent in the submission, I’m still surprised we got it,” Marinette had been thrilled at a trip to Gotham, it is where her Aunt Selina lives after all.

“You seem very responsibility Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Alfred complements, “Almost as if you could shoulder the weight of Paris,”

“I didn’t say where I was from,” Marinette tenses getting more than a little unsettled, he seemed to know something more.

“Not to worry, I have close connections with the Wayne's and was aware this years class was from Paris is all,”

“I see,” Marinette nods along, the possible meaning behind the comment still being concerning.

“We forgot your bags!!!” Tim suddenly yells, jumping up and making Marinette jump, they both curse in sync as they spill coffee on themselves.

“It’s alright!” luckily the coffee landed on her black tights, so no noticeable stains, “My bags were stolen,”

“Oh…” Tim relaxes back, “Wait… that's not alright at all!”

“It’s fine, I already have a plan to get some spare clothes and I just need to run to the store,”

“Right… to the Wayne hotel was it?” Marinette nods and Tim starts tapping away at his phone.

She fishes out some wet wipes from her bag, passing them to Tim, who looks confused until she points out the growing coffee stain. With a smile and a few more taps at the phone he takes them off her.

“Left behind and bags stolen, doesn't sound like your Lucky day,” Alfred presses, and he needs to stop, it could be chance, surely its just chance.

“I guess not,”

You don’t know the half of it.

“Well I hope the rest of your day is much better,” Tim bids as they pull up to the hotel.

“Thank you, and thank you so much for the ride,” Alfred opens the door for her to get out.

“Not a problem,” She waves them off, watching them disappear down the street.

They’re nice, probably wont ever get to see them again, thats a shame

“Dick! Holy fuck!” Tim kicks down the door of his brothers room, “I just met the nicest girl who's had the shittest day on earth,”

“First of all welcome back, how was your trip?” Dick greets hanging from the ceiling as Tim takes his desk chair, “Second, what are you talking about?”

“Met a girl at the Airport who didn’t have a ride, she gave me coffee,”

“That's enough to buy your loyalty,” Dick grins, Tim flips him off.

“Listen, she's part of that Martha Wayne Foundation trip and her class left her at the Airport!”

“What?!” Dick drops from the ceiling onto his bed, “Thats so dangerous, especially in Gotham,”

“Right?! She even had her luggage stolen!” Tim pushes the chair over to Dick, “And she was still so nice, even after an eight hour flight!”

“You said she was part of the Wayne foundation trip?” Dick asks, getting a nod from Tim, “Yeah, we are definitely seeing her again,”

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iphoenixrising · 3 years ago

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DickTim Week Day 4: Dark!Dick and Vampire!Tim

So. So. *Steeples fingers* this may or may not be the fic for you. Yet another combination prompt because the people on the Capes and Coffee Discord are fucking enablers. You know who you are.

Warnings for: captivity, blood-letting, missing-in-time Bruce

The hidden bunker is outside the city limits of Gotham, a perfect place to stay off the grid.

Officer Grayson makes the drive with the radio on WKKG, All Gotham, All the Time. He moves his head to the beat of the pop song blaring over the line.

The outside of the abandoned gas station looks positively deserted and if they were any more rural, tumble weeds would be rolling around the decrepit gas pumps.

Officer Grayson parks around the back of the building out of sight and grabs the paper bags from the passenger side, holds his cup of coffee in the same hand, whistles to himself as he gets out of the police cruiser.

A complex locking system on a seemingly outdated walk-in freezer opens up to an elevator that is decidedly the newest fixture in the place.

He hums the chorus of the pop song from the radio on the way down, small smile on his face reflecting back at him from the mirrored doors.

The underground is a completely different world.

Apparently constructed to be a bunker, the basement is lead-lined and spacious with all processes set-up to stay off the grid, perfect for his needs. He has a separate power supply, a separate HVAC system, a security system with nearly imperceptible cameras to make sure no one, no one gets close enough to the property without alerting him immediately.

And he certainly doesn’t want anyone finding his personal mission here.

Officer Grayson puts one of the grocery bags down on a table littered with notebooks and read-outs he’d left the last time after he’d gotten samples. He sips on his coffee as he walks around the first room, lit only by the emergency lights at the top of the low-slung ceiling, and turns on the power, turns on the lights in the rest of the bunker.

The beeps behind him are the locks resetting on the elevator, the only way out.

Dick is still humming when he passes into the next room, blocked on either end with thick, metal doors complete with a complex locking mechanism and impressive alarm system. The many tables in this room are filled with laboratory equipment, a biotechnician’s playground.

Half-completed analyses are still running on the impressive screens mounted overhead, status bar at 68%.

Five-gallon buckets under the tables with black Sharpie denote chemical names with dates scribbled hastily below.

Dick sips his coffee as he looks up at the running totals, makes mental notes, compares previous tests and results.

It’s discouraging, but Dick just sighs to himself. Of all vigilantes in Gotham, he’s the optimist, and he knows that each failure will just bring him closer and closer to success. He just can’t give up.

Bruce is counting on them.

With his coffee and bag in one hand, he lets the analysis churn, and enters his code in the next door, then places a palm print on the pad outside. Leans down so his eye scan can be completed.

Unlike the other rooms, the lights come on the second the door fully unlocks and opens to allow Dick entrance.

The reason for that is to turn on the intense sun lamps to further weaken the figure strapped down to the gurney in the center of the room, strategically lessening the possibility of an attack.

Dick puts the bag and his coffee down on the only table in the room.

“Sorry I didn’t come yesterday. Rupert Thorne had a big shipment planned and we were up late tracking it,” his voice is light and cheery, his smile wide and white. He comes to the side of the gurney, takes note of the slight burning smell that always seems to permeate the room no matter how much he tries to avoid it by making sure there’s always something between skin and pure silver. Struggling dislodges whatever he uses, so the result is the smell of burning flesh.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment, looking down at Timmy’s closed eyes and painfully pale face.

His frown deepens when Tim Drake rolls his head over to face the wall instead.

Silver chains wrap his arms, legs, neck, and torso, rendering him utterly immobile. Holy relics hang over the gurney as an added safety measure. He’s completely naked under a flimsy sheet.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” He asks softly. “I’m letting Alfred pick up Dami so I can spend some extra time with you today.”

IVs are grotesquely hooked into each major artery, set on slow drain. The multiple blood bags hooked under the gurney show the slow trickle as the bags fill to a crawl.

Tim’s violet-blue eyes crack open a sliver, but he doesn’t look away from the wall, away from freedom.

“That isn’t very nice,” Dick’s tone stays soft, yet firm. “You know what I’m trying to do here.”

The sound of Tim trying to swallow is heard over the soft mechanical beeping, the hum of working equipment. “You know how important you are to this, Timmy. I don’t like how you keep refusing to be a team player.” Dick pauses just a moment, eyes narrow, “is this still about Damian being Robin now? Because you know how many times we’ve been over this.”

Tim closes his eyes again, a muscle in his jaw jumps.

“Well, I think you’ve been sulking about it long enough,” Dick brusquely throws the sheet out of the way to show IVs, burns, and the network of complicated blood vessels below deathly pale skin. “You knew even before you went to Iraq my choices were the best for everyone, not just you.”

Dick checks all the leads, makes sure the drip is slow. He doesn’t so much as lift up the solid silver chains and nudge them with the cloth he keeps underneath, the point of it is to try and keep Tim’s skin from burning, temporarily cauterizing his veins and killing the supply. The last time the chains were displaced this much, Dick had made the mistake of lifting one, giving Tim enough power to bare his fangs and lunge. Since then, the chains have stayed put, only shuffled around a little.

“And if you would have just listened to me and stayed in Gotham, you wouldn’t have been caught by vampires in the first place. You know that, don’t you? If you would have worked with us at home, Ra’s would have never taken that much of an interest and led them right to you. Heck, you might still be alive and have your spleen.”

Shaking his head in frustration at all the events from last year when Bruce’s body was brought back, when the Battle for the Cowl had forced him to raise his hand against Jason again and break his heart over Little Wing again, when he knew Tim didn’t need any more mentorship, didn’t need the support and encouragement Damian did after losing their father, and the ultimate decision to let Tim decide his own future after Robin, when seeing Tim six months after his disappearance as a vampire in a cape, all of it had made the choice on how to handle this situation.

How to fix everything that had gone so horribly wrong.

Do what he had to do, try disseminating the secrets of immortality so they could bring Bruce back.

And like this, Tim is going to help him do it.

“But it’s okay,” he’s back to smiling again, “we’ve worked past all that, haven’t we, Timmy?” Dick is satisfied all the leads are fine and the slow flow unimpeded. He steps back to the bag on the table.

In one hand is a pint of O Positive. In the other, a Krispy Kreme with sprinkles.

Both their favorites.

“C’mon,” he cajoles after taking a bite of his donut, “it’s one of Steph’s extra pints. I know you’re going to like it.”

He holds the oozing bag to Tim’s averted mouth and patiently waits, nibbles on his donut in the other hand.

“Why don’t,” and the tone is hoarse, faint because Timmy mostly doesn’t really talk to him anymore, “you just kill me?”

Dick pauses mid-chew, blinking down at the eyes filling with bloody tears, the hitch in the chest that doesn’t really move anymore.

Dick swallows the bite, suddenly more like ash than icing in his mouth. “You know I can’t do that,” is more harsh than he means. “We don’t kill. Not even vampires.”

“Then let me go.”

“Can’t let you go out and kill people either, Tim, and I need the supply for testing.”

“This is torture. This is fucking torture and you don’t even give a shit about me anymore–”

With a flick of his fingers, a crucifix falls right on Tim’s chest, and the screams are awful, horrible, but that is probably never going to outweigh the smell.

By the time Dick finishes his donut, Tim is weakly writhing in agony and the screams have died down to soft whimpers, mouth open to show those killer fangs.

He dusts his hands off and pulls on a glove from the Nightwing suit under his uniform, gingerly lifts the holy item off, grimaces when tissue and flesh stick to it.

“Kill me,” Timmy whimpers. “Just fucking kill me.”

Dick scoffs and takes the chance to lean down, presses his mouth to Tim’s forehead. “You know I can’t lose anyone else,” is the softest of reprimands. “Don’t worry. Once I just figure this out, we’ll get Bruce back and he’ll help us reverse the turning. Before you know it, this will seem like just a bad dream.”

Dick presses another kiss to each eyelid, talking softly against the deceptively soft yet immortal skin. “And when you’re back to yourself, we can be together again. I’ll take care of you just like I used to, promise.”

Dick leans back up with a small smile on his face and familiar fondness in his eyes. He holds the bag up to Tim’s mouth again, ignores the red tears streaming down the pale face. “We’ll get there, okay? I’m close to the answers we need. I just need a little more time. But, I have to have samples to work with, which means you to drink, Timmy.”

Like usual, the pink tracks down his face stand out starkly in the false sunlight when Tim finally gives in and punctures the bag with his fangs.

#how is this my life #dicktim #dicktimweek2021 #dick grayson #tim drake #vampire!tim #dark!dick grayson #tw: captivity #this might not be for you #and that's okay #winter goes a little off the rails #because writing #my fic #my writing

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dabiboy · 4 years ago

Note

could you write a little nsfw dabi fic? I’ve been obsessed with him lately and I KNOW he has a corruption kink 🥵

My most sincere apologies, this one took me forever, I’m so sorry! Here it is the finished piece, hope you like it! 😭

Author's note: Regarding the tag list, I tagged the ones that let me know they're Ok with nsfw things, so if you want to be tagged in these kind of pieces let me know! I didn't tagged the ones I have written for all my works because maybe they can get uncomfortable or similar, so if you're not tagged here please excuse me😅

Corrupt Me [NSFW]

You had it all. A good job, a good position at the job, a nice apartment downtown shared with your boyfriend. He was a good guy, lame but a good one. Things with him were normal, nothing extraordinary. It was a common thing to have him on top of you one night a week, barely pleasing himself, and whenever you wanted to try something there was always the same excuse building like a wall between the two of you, ''I'm tired'' you even tried to get away from that perfect-dreamed-girl image you had and wore a nice set of lingerie, but he didn't care about it. And you ended up spending another night alone in the living room as he was snoring loudly in your bedroom. But that was Ok with you, because it was your life. Your perfect little life. Why should you ask for something else when you had everything?

But then, it happened.

You went to a bar, a hidden bar somewhere in town. It was you, your boyfriend and another couple of friends, it was all about to get some drinks and forget about the stress gathered during the week. You had ordered just a juice, how could you, Miss Perfection ask for something stronger? You couldn't, and you didn't. One because you were not used to drinking, and two because your boyfriend got mad if you tried to drink something stronger than a daiquiri.

Things were going smooth, until you saw him. A mysterious-looking guy sitting on one of the spots near the wall, his eyes clung to you as he inhaled the smoke of his cigarette. Despite the great number of nasty scars covering his face, and as you could see part of his hands, he was quite handsome. Was it his attitude? His clothes? Him? You couldn't tell, but right when he had smirked your friend's voice distracted you. Before leaving, you made a quick trip to the restroom, your friend was already out when you did, and as they were hurrying you, it was hard to notice that your wallet fell when you crashed with someone with the side of your body.

''Hey dollface'' The voice called, and if it hadn't been for the red light lighting the place, he would've laughed at your blush.

''Yes?'' You asked, feeling nervous when you noticed it was the scarred guy from earlier, he looked even hotter with less distance between the two of you.

''You dropped this'' He showed your wallet, holding it with his middle and ring finger. The man gave it back to you, and you felt like an idiot because you thought he was going to flirt with you.

''Thank you'' You said shyly, grabbing your wallet and leaving quickly as possible, leaving him with a cocky smirk standing behind you.

Two weeks went by after that. Two weeks and you couldn't stop thinking about the guy at the bar, his cocky smile, the scars that adorned his body, was it only his face? were more of them? Damn, even his voice, raspy and low, but still enigmatic and catchy, those three words keep resonating in your head. And when it was Friday again, you couldn't help it anymore. You told your boyfriend that one of your friends at work was dumped by her partner before their wedding and that she was waiting for you at a bar, he didn't oppose. Actually, it was as if he didn't listen to you because apparently, his Ludo game was more interesting than you. And he kept eating his cheese fingers as he lay on the couch.

You doubted, but you were already in the uber heading to the same bar, hoping to find him there. Even though you shouldn't. You shouldn't because you had a boyfriend, because you should be finishing reports for your job, you shouldn't because what were you doing at a bar at midnight on your own, but honestly? Maybe something deep inside you was tired of that life. And maybe, you needed a small push.

Once there, sitting at the bar you asked for a drink, a soft one because you didn't know much about the rest. Your eyes were looking around the place, trying to catch a glimpse of the person you were looking for, but there were signs of the mysterious guy. Guilt hit you again, and maybe the best option was leaving. You were about to stand up when a voice in your ears send shivers down your spine.

''Leaving so early, dollface?'' There it was. The same sensation as two weeks ago. It was him. You saw his back when he walked to sit in the tabouret in front of you.

''I...'' You doubted again. He was intimidating, his mere presence was intoxicating.

''You alone tonight? No lame-ass boyfriend around?''

''I needed to clear my head tonight'' You simply stated. ''And he... He is not lame'' Why did you reply that? Was it an intrinsic answer? probably. The one you were used giving.

''Oh, so you were having the time of your life, weren't ya?'' He smirked ''You didn't even laugh, pretty face. I think you're here for the second attempt'' He kept that cocky smile on his face, noticing the way you were looking at him. ''Why so tense, c'mon. Relax a little'' he took a sip from his glass.

''I'm not tense, should I?'' You asked, trying your best to look relaxed

''Yeah, sure'' He scoffed and rolled his eyes. ''The name's Dabi, by the way'' he moved to take another cigarette out.

And before you could notice, you were exchanging words with a stranger not so stranger. Dabi was all the opposite of your life, he was all the things you didn't do, the things that were forbidden, the ones that you avoid. thought about the man at home, about everything that was taught to you, to be good, to be perfect. If someone saw you hanging out with a man who had staples all over his face would've called you crazy. And maybe you were.

''I don't think you can take it'' Dabi had said ''You look too perfect, a badass life would tear you down.''

''Oh, is that what you think?'' You smiled, not even a bit drunk.

''Unless you show me the opposite'' He leaned forward, his hot breath tickling in your ear ''Why don't I corrupt you, Miss Perfect'' You felt your body covered in electricity, feeling things you've never felt before. He nibbled on your ear, slowly, and you could tell he was smirking.

And then, his lips were on your jaw, his hand resting on the opposite side of your neck 'I live nearby' you heard him say, and you? You nodded. That subtle touch felt like heaven, and there was no way in trying to hide it.

Before you knew it, you were walking with him on way to his place, and when you got there the only thing you could feel was the way he pinned you against the now-closed door, kissing you hard, not an ounce of shame. You felt the dampening on your panties from a simple kiss, what was with him? That was wrong on so many different levels, and a part of you wanted to go back home and keep living under those boring shadows of grey, but the other part of you wanted to stay there, and witness a whole different world, you wanted to stay.

''Aren't ya' going to call him?'' He whispered in your ear, turning around so his torso was against your back. ''Tell him you're not getting home tonight, doll'' You felt his smirk, and you were about to answer but a shy moan left your mouth when his hand got under your shirt.

''I think I should'' You managed to say under your breath and took your phone to dial him.

As you did, Dabi kept kissing your neck, biting it tentatively, and whispering dirty things in your ear as you spoke through the phone.

''Tori is very drunk and...'' You stop, his hand was right over your breast, massaging it at his will ''And... I came to her apartment, she can barely stand''

''She is a jerk, you see? That it happens when women do shits they aren't supposed to'' Your boyfriend said through the other side of the line.

''I think they enjoy a lot'' Dabi chuckled, and he unbuttoned your jeans, sliding his slender fingers in, you bit your lip.

''What was that?'' the other man spoke through the phone

''Nothing, the TV is on'' Your eyes were closed, and you coughed in an attempt of hiding a moan when Dabi slid a finger along your slit.

''So damn wet'' The scarred man said in your ear, setting your panties aside so he could feel you better.

''Sounds like a porn movie, hope you're not watching that Christian Grey thing'' Your boyfriend said again.

''No, it is just a music video. Listen, I gotta go, she's throwing up''

And with that and the last goodbye, you cut the call. Dabi lifted your shirt and tossed it to the floor, kissing your exposed shoulder. Your head fell back, resting on his collarbone as he kept moving his finger along your wetness. You could feel his crotch against your ass, he was already hard and you were a bit nervous. Without stopping his ministrations, he started walking with you towards his bedroom. In a brief moment, you skimmed the apartment. It was tiny, and it was very messy, but despite that, it didn't seem nasty.

At some point, your pants and shoes were off, and you didn't know if it was because of the heated situation or the fact that another man was seeing you in underwear but you were sure your cheeks were more than red. Your legs felt weak when Dabi started rubbing your clit in soft circular motions, breathing heavily in your ear. But suddenly, his hand was away from you. Turning around, you saw him. He was smirking, and he guided the same finger that was playing with you to his mouth, licking it clean, getting a sample of your taste. You sat down, and his eyes wandered all over your body, and you were not even fully naked yet.

''What, did the cat got your tongue?'' He asked ''You were so talkative at the bar, saying that you were not lame, that you could be a badass''

Dabi smirked, and got rid of his shirt right in front of you. He looked lanky with his clothes on, but now? You could see better what his clothes were hiding. Even though he was not muscular, his shoulders were broad, and despite the big burnt scars on his body, you could saw his abdomen was well defined, the same with the 'v' line that continued right under his pants. He got closer, and leaned down so he could plant a heated kiss on your lips, making you wish you could hold your breath for longer. A sound took you out of your thoughts, and even though you had your eyes closed you knew it was the sound of his belt, and then? His pants sliding down his legs. Once the kiss was over, he stood still again, and took his boxers down with no shame, on the contrary. A cocky smile was plastered on his face.

It was not the first time you've seen one before, but it was the first time in a few years you saw another one that wasn't your boyfriend's. And Dabi was thicker and bigger, the sight of it had you drooling, and you hoped you weren't being that obvious. He grabbed his length and pumped a few times, and you could notice something shining on the underside, and there they were. Three bars.

''First time you see a pierced one?'' He teased.

He kissed you one more time, the smirk never leaving his face. Dabi's hands went to your back, unclipping your bra and finally exposing your torso to his sight. You moaned shyly when his mouth was over your nipple, sucking it and biting it with the right pressure to make you squirm.

''I thought you wanted-'' You said in a low voice, biting your lip at his interruption.

''For you to suck me off? Yes, but that can wait you pretty thing''

After letting out a chuckle, he kneeled in front of you. A slap on your thigh made you whimper, and you obey at his command.

''Stand'' Dabi said. And his hands moved all the way up over your legs, getting rid of your panties and exposing your soaked intimacy. He licked his lips, and spoke again. ''Now sit back and spread those pretty legs for me, dollface''

You did as he said. And honestly, you felt the fear taking possession of your body. The last time your boyfriend was right between your legs, was more uncomfortable than pleasant. He was a brute, and he paid attention to everywhere less to the important parts, was that how it supposed to feel? Uncomfortable and even a bit painful? Your heart was racing, but then, it was like you were in heaven. He licked a stripe along your slit, focusing only on your clit. His movements were measured, and even though they were still a bit rough it was only pleasure filling your body. The vibrations of his moans made you shiver and moan, and in an instinctive reaction you used your hand to grab his head and pull him closer, making him smile against your core.

Dabi lifted one of your legs so he could place it over his shoulders, and the contrast of his cold staples and his warm mouth had you seeing stars.

He used two fingers to spread your walls, and that made him lick his lips.

''Look at that, what a perfect little hole you got there huh''

You felt a little bit embarrassed at his words, but then every thought clouded because his tongue was deep inside you, fucking you with no shame and making you squirm as he squeezed your thighs. You would have to come up with an excuse to explain the bruises.

He kept eating you out, switching from tongue fucking you to lick and suck at your clit with expertise.

What you didn't know, is that he was the biggest tease on earth, and when you were right on the edge he stopped everything, and stood up with a smile on his face. He crawled the two of you to the bed, using his knee to spread your legs as he whispered in your ear.

''The only way you're coming tonight, is on my dick''

He used a hand to align himself on your entrance, and he pushed his hips slowly. You? You threw your head back and let out a shameless moan, and it was the first time you heard yourself letting out such a sinful sound, and that made him smile. Dabi cursed under his breath, and he started moving quickly, making you bite your lip.

''Don't hold them back dollface, I want to hear you'' He said ''Let everyone know how good I make you feel, how bad and nasty you are''

He growled, and you forgot about everything. Your parents and their pressure of you achieving perfection? Gone. Your boyfriend being so lame and selfish? Gone. The people at your job asking you for more things and you wishing for a break? Gone. The only thing that you could think of, was how good he felt inside you, the way his abdomen looked every time he moved in and out of you, even the weight of his body on top of yours felt beyond good. One of your hands was on his head, tugging at his hair while the other was on his back, digging your nails at the strong sensations. Suddenly, you were not shy anymore. Moans were leaving your mouth, your hips were bucking against him following his fast and strong rhythm, crying out with each of his thrusts.

All of him was intoxicating, his scent, his voice, his body, all of it had you asking for more, not wanting stop. And Dabi was aware of it, he knew the impact he had on your body and certainly, he loved it. He loved he was corrupting such a nice girl. You opened your eyes, and try to make the words come out of your mouth, it was hard to hold them back with all of the emotions that were over your body, especially when you were feeling closer by the second.

''I'm- I'm on the pill'' You could say. And a devilish smirk appeared on Dabi's face.

''Does that mean that you want me to cum inside you?'' He scoffed ''Such a naughty little thing'' A moan left his lips as his thrusts became sloppier ''Scream my name, c'mon''

You couldn't do more than obey his demands, he had you wrapped around his finger. Your back arched and he held your hips, pounding relentlessly in and out of you, and by the way his cock twitched inside you you knew he was close too. You were about having an orgasm with a man that wasn't your boyfriend. And you were loving every second of it.

His naughty words were the perfect plus, and with them and his thrusts you felt that knot forming in your lower stomach, a feeling that you have forgotten.

''So close'' You said between panted sounds.

''That's it doll, cum on my cock. Don't hold back, c'mon'' he said, his face pressed against your neck, his sweat mixing with yours and his bites making you shiver.

It just took a few more thrusts for you to scream his name, digging your nails in the healthy skin of his back at the same time you felt his hot spurt deep inside you. Dabi moaned loudly as he kept his cock buried, finishing his release. Your entire body was shaking, coming down from cloud nine and processing everything that just happened. A gasp left your lips when he pulled out and rolled to the side of your bed, laughing a bit.

''Guess you were not a lame shit'' He lifted an eyebrow and you covered your face.

''Shut up, I'm not like this'' behind your hands covering your face, you were laughing. It was wrong, but it felt heavenly.

''What are you gonna say to the ugly little shit you call boyfriend bout' all of these'' His fingers were on your hips, touching the red areas that were probably going to become bruises. '' You should tell him how good I fucked you'' He chuckled and he rested on his side to kiss your neck again.

''I... I might just explain that I hit against something'' There was a slight blush on your cheeks, a mix of shyness and because of the previous events.

''I recommend you to find a different excuse, cause I'm not done with you yet'' He nibbled on your ear, and his hand grabbed your neck just a bit tightly ''Because there will be more bruises'' His voice was low, rough, and seductive. Almost compelling you.

''Really? Guess I will have to be creative, then'' You said surrendering to his charms. Everything felt more than good, he was addictive, and it felt like you weren't worried about stop being Miss Perfect. Those days were over.

''That's what I wanted to hear'' He smirked, and made you lift off the bed. He stood up, and leaned forward so he could whisper in your ear ''On your knees, princess.''

Tag list [open]: @waffleareniceandfluffy @axerrri @angelofdarkness1020]

#bnha+dabi #dabi #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #boku no hero academia #dabi headcanons #dabi imagine #mha dabi #dabi smut

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stray-kids-react · 4 years ago

Text

S/O likes enjoys writing/writing lyrics

Masterlist

...

Bang Chan

° You owned this special and locked diary for years, where you kept all your bottles up emotions and feelings in.

° One of those feelings evolving your long time crush on Chan, including the words 'Sexy, Cute, Inspirational, Hot, Prince, and A Literal Angel' all in quite a few pages. Luckily your now long time boyfriend has never seen these fangirl/boy paragraphs.

° Chan was all of those words, no doubt about it. But it is still hard to look at those paragraphs without cringing at how desperate you sounded in your mind.

° Chan however apparently loved your affectionate paragraphs, flipping through the pages as you walked through his studio door. Your heart sank as pure shock and terror rushed through your veins. No one wants their private thoughts to be read.

° The tips of Chan's ears were firetruck red, as a beaming grin flashed towards you. You noted that he read through the entire diary, knowing all the dreams and wishes you had that involved him. No skeletons were left in your closet anymore, it was bittersweet.

"So you really think I'm an angel who is also the sexiest person on earth?" he teased, cupping your face in his palms.

"Well duh, but you can't tell me you didn't think anything like that towards me-" You defended, cut off by his sweet kisses.

Lee Know

° Minho found out about your true feelings towards him while reading some song lyrics you wanted to show 3Racha.

° He needed to know who you loved and admired so dearly after reading this, constantly by your side questioning anything he could. After literal weeks of conspiracy, you couldn't take his suspicion anymore and admitted everything.

° You are now much more secretive with your songs that you've written, but that won't stop Minho from looking everywhere he possibly can. He is determined to find them.

° After so many large steps that were taken in your relationship, he wants to see how you truly felt throughout them. From the first date, first time, to the promise ring he fave you last week. Minho wants to say it's to tease, when it's truly because he loves you.

° He loved the way his stomach did kart wheels as his heart fluttered when he first read your words. He hasn't felt that amazing feeling in a while and needs to re live it, luckily for him he noticed a place he has never thought of checking.

"So kitten, you really want to marry me don't you?" he commented, a soft smirk across his glowing features.

"Why wouldn't I? You're you. And how'd you find those?!" you replied, tone changing as you saw how many he actually had.

Changbin

° Changbin was struggling to create a new song, he seemed to accidently make similar beats and lyrics to their past hits.

° You would sometime write up different songs when you were bored, but you never showed them to anyone thinking they weren't great. But Changbin looked in need of some type of inspiration, so you brought out your journal and placed it infront of him.

° His expression was unreadable, either about to thank you for the amazing inspiration or laugh at your cheesy words. You just wanted him to say something.

° Changbin began to smile shyly, showing you a page he just read over. That page happened to be the most recent and the one you completely forgot about. It was a draft about 10 different ways you could tell Changbin that you loved him.

° You really wanted it to be special when you would say it to him, but luck didn't seem to be on your side that day. You were at least glad that he was smiling, showing positive signs that he isn't feeling awkward or doesn't feel the same way about you.

"I love you too my adorable bean." He chuckled, pulling you into his lap as he held you close to his racing heart beat.

"I'm guessing he new comeback is going to be a love song now?" you teased, burrowing into his soft black hoodie.

Hyunjn

° Your relationship use to be a cat and mouse situation, one day you two were best friends and then the next you two were rivals.

° Your anger and frustration towards one another was simply a way to hide your true emotions. Both of you found each other attractive in and out, but were too stubborn to confess. That is until he walked into your room and pressed you up against the wall.

° Your rivalry left out the door once you started dating, the only ounce of it was left in the small playful bickering and teasing. Which happened every day of the week.

° You walked into the dressing rooms, noticing Han and Felix giggling as your presence became known. This wasn't a usual giggle of theirs, something was going on. You knew that for sure once you saw the way Hyunjin presented himself.

° A sly smirk across his lips as a couple crumpled peace of paper were in between his fingers. His steps were long and powerful, as he held his head up high while nearing you. This usually meant he found something to tease you with.

"I didn't know you liked me for five years, coming up with so many cute pet names if we ever dated." He teased, hiding his blush.

"First of all, you went through my desk without asking me. Second of all, I am whipped for you dumb dumb." You replied.

Han

° You weren't a very vocal person, having trouble expressing your thoughts and emotions through words everyday.

° That reason alone is also why people think you and Han are a perfect match. He helped you come out of your shell and be comfortable in your own skin. All of those actions sent your heart into a frenzy, finding there way into pages filled with emotion.

° Han knew about your habit of writing cute quotes on your palms and arms, or just randomly taking out your journal and starting a new page.

° He respected your privacy even if the temptation of knowing every little thought you have was very very strong, he held back and let you write in peace. However, when you dropped your journal without knowing. Han held it and the temptation took over.

° As you had a chat with Seungmin, he turned around from your eye sight and flipped through the pages. Many of them expressing how much you love him and how much he helped you without him even knowing. This effected Han immensely.

"Hannie are you crying?" you questioned, noticing the forming gloss over his sparkling chocolate orbs.

"Yeah, but it's happy tears. I just never knew how much you cared about me, and it makes me feel important." He explained.

Felix

° You cannot hide anything from this adorable koala, he knows you too well and can find anything you've hidden from him.

° You learned this the hard way when you asked him for help when forgetting where you left your journal, panicking since the last place you saw it was at Minho's. Felix knew you usually placed it near your bed and assumed it to be under the covers.

°His assumption was spot on, but you had no idea that he had found it yet. Felix took this advantage to skim through a few pages, smiling at the sight of his name in the book.

° His name was mentioned ever since the day you first met, January 7th 2017. He was written as this attractive aussie that had your knees weak, he laughed silently at the realization that you fancied him since the first day you met. He loved it.

° Felix walked out with the navy blue book tight in his grip, his ears a bright shade of red. You knew he must've read some sort of page about him, but you weren't nervous about it. It couldn't have been anything more cheesy than what you say on dates.

"I can't believe Han knew about your crush on me that entire time." Felix chuckled, shock filling his expression.

"And I can't believe you never knew how much I truly admired you." You teased back, kissing his freckle speckled cheeks.

Seungmin

° Seungmin met you at a library, you were working on a soft poem about not being able to find the right person.

° That whole meeting seemed like something right off of a romance movie or fanfiction novel. Writing about giving up on love as an amazing guy happens to cross paths with you. But both of you laugh at the whole cliché nature of your meeting.

° Seungmin loved how you wrote, taking him into the story each time. He felt so special whenever he found something referring to your relationship, feeling fuzzy inside.

° He liked to bring some of your poems on tour with him, reminding him to stay strong when being away from you. Letting him know that you'll always be there for him when he needs you, even if you are both countries away from each other.

° Felix once found his stash of poems that you wrote, he never teased him on it but would still smile excitedly at how sentimental Seungmin was becoming. Seungmin knew he was becoming cheesy and mushy, he hated yet loved it.

"Do you know how much you have effected me?" he questioned, tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

"Or maybe you have an addiction to me, ever think of that?" you responded, smiling widely as he rolled his eyes at your words.

Jeongin

° You worked under JYP entertainment to help create songs for different groups, Jeongin noticed you during his break.

° You rarely got to work with Stray Kids since they made 99% of their own songs, but that didn't stop Jeongin from trying to get to know you. It worked in his favor, since you began to develop a living in him after two months of hang out together.

° Jeongin likes hearing certain songs you create or in the process of being created, cheering you on and telling all of his members when you created a song.

° He liked to give you the credit and appreciation you rarely get, most of the credit going towards the artist who performed the songs you created. Jeongin wanted to let you know how proud he was of you daily, even if you got shy from it.

° Whenever you showed him different samples of songs you were working on, he'd dance in his seat with a beaming smile. Even when you were tired and wanted the day to end, his admiration and addicting smile would make your mood change instantly.

"I am just worried because JYP has been pretty harsh on the past few songs." You sighed, tired and frustrated.

"He literally wrote a song about women's butts. I'm pretty sure you're more talented baby." He reassured, patting your head.

#stray kids #kpop #changbin #skz scenarios #stray kids reactions #han jisung #hyunjin #jeongin #lee know #bang chan #skz reactions #skz fluff #skz ff #felix skz #skz seungmin

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years ago

Text

temerity

― the perfect job for an overworked, tired, and romantic you is obviously a stressful, demanding, but oh so aesthetic coffeeshop. your job only becomes better when a handsome redhead appears through the door with a loud bang, and you can do nothing but fall for him. or the five times kirishima orders coffee and the one time he doesn’t.

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pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, fluff, light angst, pining, coffee shop!au, modern!au, college!au, happy ending, five times he did and one time he didn’t trope

word count: 9,394

a/n: happy birthday to my beautiful love @ikinabi!!!! this was written for you based off of your favorite tropes including your favorite word, bet you saw this coming a mile away because my interrogation for this was absolute ass. also sorry for the angst, I couldn’t help myself! for the rest of you non-reds, this was a pretty damn fun piece to write. kirishima was modeled after how red sees him too, sorry. I haven’t typed that much in a single sitting in a long time, so it was p refreshing. like always, enjoy and leave a comment if you enjoyed ;-; (oh and thank you all for kiri coffee taste suggestions)

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O N E

Working in a small coffee shop isn’t exactly what you had once thought it to be.

For years you had been attending the small coffee shop just by your university. Most of your studying, homework, and late-night mental breakdowns had taken place in the corner of the shop, hidden from the sight of the patrons, which was conventionally the best spot for the strongest wifi.

You had been there so many times, having tried every single drink on their menu, and had gotten to know every worker there ― including the owners. So when the invitation to work there was brought up the one night you showed up in hysterics because you had lost your other job, it shouldn’t have taken you by surprise.

So now, in your final year of university, you stood at the counter. A textbook cracked open near the register light, the gentle coffee shop tunes playing merrily in the background. The intricate, familiar, and distinguished smell of both fresh and aging coffee beans with day-old pastries soaked deep into every centimeter of the room.

The coffee shop was typically slow at this time at night, most people, thankfully, choosing to keep their caffeine addictions primarily in the mornings. Or, as a student had once confessed, didn’t want to make your job more demanding, so they made their own caffeinated drink this late at night. Regardless, it didn’t matter; the morning and afternoon crowds at this coffee shop were busy enough for you to be grateful for this downtime, especially as midterm season was beginning to approach. With this upcoming season, you knew you would be pouring liters of coffee down red-eyed, broken-spirited, college students' throats in the coming days.

Humming, you flipped the page of your biochem textbook, information on amino acids and protein structure twisting in your mind. At the same time, you tried to absorb the chaotic, overflowing amount of information presented on a single page. With a pen to your lip, you frowned at the sentence, rereading phrases over and over again as you struggled to figure out just why Hydrogen formation was so important.

That didn’t last for too long, fortunately.

For when you were about to scream to your coworker who was hiding away in the backroom about how amino acids could go fuck themselves, the front door slammed open.

Despite the wooden door being extremely, almost stupidly heavy (to the point where there was a sign that clearly read: YES WE ARE OPEN, THE DOOR IS JUST REALLY HEAVY, outside), it crashed into the wall, causing a loud smack to rattle the shop. You, having been so absorbed in your studies, jumped at the sound. Your body flinched as a surprised shriek left your lips.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry! It said the door was heavy, but I didn’t think it would slam open like that!” came an apologetic and obviously embarrassed voice from the entrance.

Your heart was pounding with adrenaline. You focused your attention on the man who was frantically checking potential damages to both the door and the wall. All while he continued to apologize.

Red hair and red eyes are the first things you noticed about him.

Red hair that obviously was dyed, red, warm eyes seemed smooth and seemed to melt into sugary brown, and a rather large scar over his right eye that stopped just at his eyebrow. His smile was broad, exceedingly bright, albeit stiff.

Despite your pumping blood and the way that your fingertips tingle with your fear, a smile and laugh pressed to your lips as he fumbled to close the door behind him (although it was nearly closed by the time he fumbled for the metal brass door handle). Pushing up off the counter from where you were lying, you shut the textbook you had, waving off the new customer.

“No worries! Most people either overcompensate or can’t open the door at all,” you explained with a pinching smile, the laughter in your tone so noticeable despite your intent to keep your humor hidden. Your smile and softly thudding heart only seemed to increase stupidly as the red-headed man approached the cash register.

He was dressed horribly.

He wore an orange gym shirt, most definitely worn with age, and a bit too small on his… physique, navy blue basketball shorts that had white stripes on the side of his thigh, and black athletic crew socks with bright red crocs.

A living, walking fashion disaster.

“Um,” you stifled a teasing snort, “what can I get for ya?”

The man (was he a himbo? he seemed like he could be one through his appearance alone!) crossed his arms across his chest, lower lip jutting out as he read the menu under his breath with curious, wide eyes. His head tilted to the side, his gaze seemingly stuck on a single area of the menu, and with all the curiosity of the world weighing down on you at this one, very moment, you turned behind you.

“Anything catching your eye?”

“This is… uh, this is my first time in here,” he admitted, his gaze falling from the menu, catching your own eye when you turned back around to face him. His eyes were wide, clear as they were alarmingly honest; he paused for a bit before eventually adding, “actually.”

“Well,” you began, your own honest smile brightening on your face, “lucky for you, I’ve tried everything on this menu. Pick your poison, I can tell you what everything tastes like.”

His eyes widen in what you can only recognize as being overwhelmed, but you try to hide the way your smile is turning into a smirk when he begins to list out drinks.

Drink after drink he names, most of them being dark, black, bitter-tasting coffees, and you can see some hesitation in him with each name he lists.

“You don’t seem to know what kinda coffee you like, huh?” you eventually point out once he’s had you repeat the entire menu for the dark roasts the shop had.

“That would be embarrassing if it wasn’t for the fact that I’ve never had coffee in my life before,” he laughed partially in embarrassment, but much more in some underlying mirth and energy, he seemed to easily hold. Energy that seemed to warm your chest more than any cup of coffee on a cold morning. “I’m what you could call a coffee virgin.”

Now that got a snort out of you.

“Okay, coffee virgin,” you teased, immediately grabbing a kids' throwaway cup behind the counter. “You should’ve started with that!”

“I didn’t want to come off as uncultured! I mean, I’m down at the university, the uni down the street, I’m a university student myself! But being twenty-one and never having coffee before? It just seems… I don’t know so unmanly!”

All while he was confessing the reason as to why he had never in his life had a single cup of coffee, you had poured the simmering black coffee that he was most interested in into the cup. It was filled with only a small amount of the black, bitter liquid, just enough to give him a good taste of the drink. Placing the kids' cup in front of him with a satisfactory thunk, you grinned up at him.

His hand was pressed to the back of his neck, an almost shameful look on his face with just the smallest blush brightening his cheeks and ear tips.

“I think it’s cool you’re a uni student without a coffee addiction,” you smile earnestly, pressing the kids' cup closer to him. “Shows a different kind of man that you’re able to handle a workload without a caffeine drip.”

If you didn’t know better (and honestly, you didn’t, you were probably projecting the weird stranger crush you had seamlessly formed on him), you would have said he forgot how to speak. He clears his throat, his embarrassment fading into a small, soft smile, and he picks up the cup.

“Thank you for the sample.”

He takes a drink of the warm liquid, and immediately he seems to crush the paper cup in his hand, a suppressed hysteric of coughing spluttering past his fisted hand on his mouth, tears springing into his eyes. You yelped in surprise, hands fluttering out to smack him on the arm in a failed attempt to reach his back.

“O-Oh my god!” he eventually wheezed, his eyes staring down at the crushed cup as if it was some sort of vermin, a creature that had no use being alive but still pitied it. His other hand wiped at his lips as to rid of its taste. His head snapped back towards you, his eyes wet with betrayal from both his thoughts and taste buds. “Can you do something, not this at all?!”

You purse your lips for a second, thinking about just what could suit his apparent dislike for bitter, black coffee. With a single idea in your head, you leaned forward onto the counter, a smile back on your lips.

“Do you like cinnamon rolls?”

He blinked.

“Who doesn’t?”

“For here or to go?” you asked, head tilting to the side before you eventually remembered that the shop was closing in a few minutes. “Actually, it’ll be to go!”

“O-Oh, okay!”

“Can I get a name?” you asked, your hand grabbing the paper cup and a sharpie to write his name. There was no reason for you to write down his name; he was the only person in the shop right now.

“K-Kiripima,” he answers with wide eyes and red cheeks. Your eyebrows scrunch.

“Kiripima?”

“No! I’m, oh my god, this is so unmanly of me,” he bemoaned, his head shaking. “Kirishima Eijirou! I’m Kirishima Eijirou!”

The pealing laughter that erupted from your mouth stood no chance at being silenced. And so with an embarrassed nod of your own, you pressed off the counter, writing his name was the neatest writing you had, before setting off.

You worked fast behind the counter, making the specialized drink just for the blushing himbo of a man before you, well, at least until he interrupted your chain of thoughts and actions.

“Biochem, right?”

Placing the cup where the steamed milk machine was, you turned to look at Kiri(p)shima, who was pointing at your textbook with an all too familiar look on his face that told you he recognized it.

“Unfortunately,” you smiled at him, eventually shrugging. “I also go to the uni down the street.”

“Aw damn, sucks I’ve never seen you there before!” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck when he glances up at you from the textbook before looking back down. “I took this class last semester!”

“Oh? Who’d you have?” you asked, continuing on with your work, your suspicion of him being a himbo slightly dwindling.

“Chaney!” he responded, and you looked over at him; you had him this semester, too. “It was the worst! I dropped out the first week! Didn’t help that I thought biochem was a split biology and chemistry course… teaches me not to listen to Kaminari and Mina… ah, I mean, my friends!”

Himbo indeed.

Laughing at his flux in judgment, you placed the steaming cup of sweet, sweet coffee in front of Kirishima, hands pressing onto your hips as you did so.

“How about this?”

You watch as the redhead grins at you, picking up the cup of coffee and drinking it despite your last second squeak that it was probably way too hot to be consumed.

“HOLY SHIT! This is so much better! It tastes just like cinnamon rolls! Bro, you have some serious talent!” Kirishima yelled, his eyes not quite as bright, but his smile definitely still as warm. “How much will it be?”

“On the house,” you admitted with a shrug, your cheeks warming with his look of disbelief. “I took your, uh, coffee virginity away and nearly killed ya, it’s the least I could do!”

Kirishima narrows his gaze on you, his smile softening in tandem while he looks over at the menu again, taking another stiff sip of the coffee.

You watch as he takes his wallet out of his pocket, and with a little effort, pulls out two thousand yen.

“For the next few customers then, yeah?” he smoothly states, already moving back towards the door long before you could demand that he come back and take his money with him.

“Hey!” Kirishima yells, his hand had opened the heavy ass door with no problem or strain. “What's your name?”

“Why?!” you yelled back despite your instincts screaming at you to tell him your name.

His grin stretches so widely you take notice of his glinting, almost abnormally sharp canines from the counter.

“So, I know who to blame for my caffeine addiction!”

You laugh.

“Y/l/n y/n,” you smile, your stomach flipping at the way he seems to brighten with that information. “I promise that’s my real name too, no mess-ups.”

Kirishima laughs, red staining his face.

“Guess we can’t all be as amazing as you, huh?”

You didn’t get the chance to even scream in your fluster because he was already gone. The heavy wooden door closed by the time your coworker emerged from the back, an all too curious look on their face.

“What was that?”

You shrug, a smile stretching further on your face.

“Hopefully, a new regular.”

T W O

“Kiripima!”

If there was a way for you to not giggle at the way Kirishima nearly slammed the door through the wall in his shock embarrassment, you would have liked to know.

“My name is Kirishima, y/l/n!” he yelled back, his cheeks the same color as his spiked hair. “I mean, if you want to call me Kiripima, that’s okay! It’s just… my name is Kiri-shima!”

“Sorry, sorry, Kiripima was too cute to resist!” you admitted with a smirk, your body leaning forward, elbows pressed onto the counter, hands pressed against your cheeks. “What can I get for you so late at night, Kiri-shima?”

Kirishima smiles broadly, his hands sinking into his pockets as he walks over towards you and the counter. He’s dressed much more normally today, he wore black jeans that are slightly dirty with some sort of white powder, and his shirt is a crimson red. It’s tight against his biceps but fits him much better than the last shirt he wore, and on the fabric right above his heart, lays a simple print: FATGUM’S GRUB.

“Nightshift, unfortunately, finally caught me this week!” Kirishima sighs, his shoulder-shrugging but the smile remaining just as firmly on his face. “It’s no biggie, though; it’s for one of my bros who needed the night off!”

“Oh, so you’re an everyday hero?” you tease, enjoying the way that he grins wide enough to show off his sharp canines before it humbles into an embarrassed smile. “How manly of you.”

“Nothing anyone else wouldn’t do,” he mumbled, his gaze falling to your shoulder in his embarrassment.

“Alright, alright, if you say so,” you relent, sighing softly before straightening up and smiling up at the red-haired man who was busy taking in your menu once again with significant hesitation. “What can I get for you this time, Kirishima?”

Kirishima’s eyes glinted over, a laugh once again rumbling in his chest before he sighed, “What do you suggest for me, y/l/n?”

And so, at nearly ten p.m., you stood behind the cash register, Kirishima’s coffee long since given to him, and the two of you were intently talking, laughter and enthusiastic yelling being exchanged fervently.

You learned his name was Kirishima Eijirou; he was twenty-one years old, born and raised in Musutafu. You knew that while yes, he most definitely a himbo (something you confirmed with strategic questions, and not straight up asking him), he was an engineering major! He played a ton of sports but seemed to prefer heavy contact sports, rugby, and soccer being his top choice of sport. You even found out that this man (who often used the term manly in a way that meant ‘approved by Kirishima’) was the biggest fan of the old movies and comic book hero Crimson Riot. You figured this out when he pulled out his phone to show you a picture of his new goldfish and accidentally revealed his lock screen being him and the famous actor behind the superhero.

“You’re telling me you’ve NEVER seen an All Might movie, but you’ve seen ALL the Crimson Riot movies?!” Kirishima yelled, his arms shooting out past the counter to grab you by the shoulders, shaking you intensely with the biggest, goofiest smile on his face.

“Be careful with your coffee!” you squealed, trying to keep his elbow from knocking over his cup that had still gone untouched.

“Y/L/N!” he exasperated, pulling himself in closer to you, his eyes wide and bright, quickly drowning you with his radiant energy and overwhelming enthusiasm. “Answer!!!”

“Oh my god! Yes, Kirishima! I have never seen an All Might film but have seen every single Crimson Riot film!” you confess, your cheeks hurting from your laughter, and growing sense of embarrassment because everyone in the world has seen the All Might movies!

Hell, even people who weren’t from Japan had seen them all!

The movie superhero was a blockbuster smash with every movie they did!

“Why not?! How not?!”

“Because my dad never let me watch them growing up because the guide warnings,” you wheezed, your stomach cramping with your laughter, your hands grabbing onto his sturdy ― and holy fuck, were they sturdy ― biceps trying to ease his excited(???) shaking. “Besides, my dad is a hardcore Crimson Riot fan; he would have a heart attack and die if he heard that I went to go watch an All Might film.”

“Holy shit,” Kirishima breathed, a glazed over glee washing over his face in some euphoric bliss. “Your dad… is so manly, I think I could marry him.”

Your laughter only grew when Kirishima wiped tears from his eyes, and you patted his arm in your condolences.

“I think he would not take to someone claiming to be the biggest Crimson Riot fan!”

Kirishima grin only grew, “Bet he wouldn’t!”

You tilted your head, your smile becoming a bit lopsided, ready to take that bet right there, right now. You knew your dad was most definitely still awake at this time.

But the words never got to pass your mouth because as soon as you opened your mouth to speak, a loud ringtone interrupted you.

You also hated the fact that you recognized the ringtone to be the Crimson Riots theme song.

Kirishima’s warm hands pulled away from you, his overeagerness abandoned as he pulled out his phone and pressed it to his ear without checking who was calling.

“It’s Ei, talk to me.”

The nickname of his first name caused your stomach to flip, his smooth baritone voice easily sending shivers down your spine. Still, with the mention of such an intimate nickname… the chill crawling down your spine, teasing every nerve in your system, was inevitable.

You watched Kirishima’s face. The way that he easily took in the words of whoever was on the other side of the line. The smile on his face remained if only muted just a bit as he agreed left and right with whoever was on the other side.

“Nah, I can get there in a few! Don’t worry about it, Fat, I normally show up early to shifts regardless, I don’t blame ya! Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah! Yeah! See ya soon!”

Disappointment blossomed in your chest, the horrible feeling of having to say goodbye to a customer who had only come in twice! Twice! Most times, you never wanted to see any customers, even some regulars, more than once in your lifetime! But again, there had been no other customer in your life as a barista that had been as kind, friendly, and hot as Kirishima.

“Well, I gotta go now,” Kirishima softly sighed, his lips pressing into a half-smile, his eyebrows scrunched together in his (maybe) reluctance to leave. “Fat, er, my boss, got overloaded with the late-night munchies, so…”

“Time for the fanboy to leave?” you finished for him, your fingers looping into your apron, your eyes glancing at the clock that showed you that you should’ve been cleaning up five minutes ago.

“Yeah, sadly!” Kirishima laughed, his hand grabbing the coffee and pocketing his phone as he made his way to the front door. You followed after him, ready to lock the door after him in case some desperate customer tried to come in. “Well, thank you for the coffee again! I gotta see just how much you know about the greatest superhero ever the next time I drop by!”

You smiled.

“Next time?”

Kirishima paused for a bit, “Yeah, next time!” he pushed through the front door, and you watched as he exited the shop, his body turning so he was looking at you while he walked backward. “I told ya, y/l/n, it's pretty unmanly of you, but you got me hooked on caffeine!”

There was no time for you to argue otherwise because he turned on his heel just as quickly and began jogging off to his own job.

“You’ll close up by yourself?” your bitchy coworker asked, and you startled, seeing that she was also pushing past the door. “You kept us over way later because you can’t stop flirting with the customers, which by the way, is against protocol.”

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah, whatever, bye.”

T H R E E

“Next in line, please!”

It was busy.

As you had once thought many, many weeks ago, the midterm season had finally come with full force, and it was horrible. There were at least four crying college students found in any of the studying rooms the shop had from sun up to sundown. Some of the students were found soaking their tears onto the worn leather sofa, some moments from dying on the plenty of counters and tables.

On multiple days there had been students who stayed the entire day, drinking whole pots worth of black coffee when they were ordinarily sweet coffee drinkers. You had to give some freshmen girl a tight hug the other day who was seconds from taking a W on her transcripts because she absolutely could no longer handle her math class. You had the unfortunate time of giving a student the news that no, today was not Thursday, it’s Friday, so yes… they missed their midterm for a professor who would refuse to reschedule any missed exam.

But it wasn’t all too bad.

Kirishima had been showing up practically every day now; he would order a pastry every time, opting out of a drink by showing you his three-liter water bottle. It was nice to have someone like Kirishima around (partially because you usually worked with a younger coworker,) who was both strong and sweet. He wasn’t majorly concerned about his midterms, stating that he had study groups with his friends and had been on top of his game and only came to the coffee shop to do light personal studying. So, during your mad dashes to make the 2,783rd cup of coffee within your shift, you couldn’t help but glance over at Kirishima, who was comforting crying students. When they weren’t crying, and you weren’t desperately trying to appease the caffeine raged customers, he chatted with you, seated on the counter by the coffee counter.

Having him around so much was actually both making your day better and much, much worse. On the one hand, that meant that since you were paired up with coworkers you didn’t get along with, you had a fantastic company that literally made the nights go by so fast as you and he became closer and closer friends. But, on the other hand, it also made your once attraction to him, having been solely based on physical looks to bleed over to personal traits, and you wanted to cry with every poor attempt of flirting that flew over his head.

However, you did get to learn that 1. he did, in fact, dye his hair red because you had the privilege of seeing his black roots. And that 2. despite his phone being filled with the craziest metal and rock songs, he really only listened to a playlist buried in his phone that was filled with soft acoustic guitar and sweet bubblegum pop songs. It was great.

But it was no time to think about your tall, red-headed crush. You had much more pressing issues with the large coffee crowd in front of you. It was rush hour, and since you were scheduled for tonight's shift, they asked if you wanted more hours for today since they were training someone new.

Obviously, you had agreed.

You had forgotten the horrors of rush that included sleep-deprived, caffeine-infused insanity of students coupled with the ever-demanding adults with jobs that they very much needed to return too. It was always horrific.

But you for sure never expected to see your crush before you.

“Kiri!” you smiled, the smile on your face was one of pure exhaustion and joy of seeing your friend crush. Your gaze quickly dropped away from him, your eyes returning to the paper cups you held, writing in their orders and name as quickly as you could. “How can I help you?”

Kirishima visibly gulped, and you froze a bit before setting down the large order on the counter for your coworkers to eventually get to. You knew by the pile-up on orders you would be switched out with the new hire after Kirishima and the person behind him.

“I, uh, I need to ask you something!” Kirishima spoke sharply, his arms stiff at his side. His usual kind and gentle smile on his face is mechanic and dull. He was… he was sweating? Pity filled your stomach; maybe he had done terribly on a midterm.

“Do you need a new coffee rec?” you immediately ask your mind on the set menu behind you, trying to come up with a coffee just sweet enough for the charming man in front of you. “You haven’t had a drink in a while, I don’t remember what you had last, though.”

“No, not that! I have a… well, I have a confession!” Kirishima tries again, his body somehow becoming even stiffer as he nods his head in growing speeds. “Yup! A confession!”

“Would ya hurry it up, kid! Some of us got work to get to!” came a crabby voice from behind Kirishima, and you winced, looking past your crush to the eldering man who looked like he was eating and shitting stress every day for the past three years.

“Sir, please calm down, it won’t take too long,” you frowned, not at all happy with the sheer impatience of the customer. You turned back to Kirishima, an apologetic look on your face. “But a confession? Okay, well, actually… I have one for you as well!” Maybe you could get yourself to confess you liked him?

But the old man’s interruption seemed to have calmed Kirishima down significantly, who snapped out of his haze.

“Sorry, sorry!” he apologized to the man behind him, bowing deeply for his troubles before facing you again and laughed. The palm of his hand hit his forehead as he groaned lowly. “Sorry, this is so unmanly of me, y/l/n! I mean, I shouldn’t even be doing this because you’re working, but I finally… I just…”

He trailed off, and you found it impossible to follow his train of thought, something you weren’t too bad at doing.

“Just what?”

It was with that the world seemed to still.

The noise of the busy coffee shop, the hustling of your coworkers, the chattering of the studying students, and business calls going mute as you stared up into Kirishima’s red, comprehensive, honest eyes.

“Well, it’s just that I, um, I--”

“Listen, kid,” the man behind Kirishima snapped at him. “I have twelve minutes to gather my drink and make it back to my meeting with my executive board. And you’re holding up the damn fucking line! Make up your mind on what coffee you want, because you’ve been in this line with me for almost ten minutes, order it and pay! Let’s get moving!”

“Sir!” you gasped, horrendously mortified a customer was acting like that! “That’s incredibly rude! He hasn’t even been here for a minute!”

“It’s actually been three!” he sneered.

You opened your mouth to retaliate, not at all positive if it had been three minutes because by god did you get lost in Kirishima’s eyes.

“No!” Kirishima interrupted you before you could begin, and you looked up at Kirishima, who looked like a kicked puppy, and that sent your heart into a whole series of palpitations you didn’t know would happen with him. “It’s fine, sorry, I got worked up… um… one of my best bros likes his coffee black, and well, I like it now too. A regular black coffee, to go…”

You didn’t even get a chance to say anything, Kirishima slipping the exact amount of money for the drink before disappearing into the crowd.

Your sight narrowed when it befell onto the old man who looked proud of himself, “Finally! Now, let me see what you guys have! I don’t know what I want!”

F O U R

Kirishima was late.

So late, so very, very late.

He checked his phone for the time yet again, somehow praying that in the last time he had checked his phone (which had been three seconds ago), the time hadn’t shot forward by ten minutes, and by the spirit of god had maybe, possibly rewound by ten minutes. He only hoped that he wouldn’t show up too late today; he actually needed something with caffeine to keep him awake today.

But he saw the coffee shop straight ahead, the small white light by the front door still buzzing and bright with the illuminated: OPEN! sign. Kirishima barreled through the front door with now practiced and known strength, his forehead sweating profusely, and his heart hammering in his throat.

“I’m… here!” he panted, his eyes finding yours as you were cleaning up the counter with a disinfecting liquid and cloth.

He had seen you yesterday, but still, seeing you at the counter, your gaze on what you were doing was like an arrow to his lungs. He looked at you in his personal slowed downtime, the way that the halo of frizzy, curly, flyaways from your hair gleamed softly with the backlight, the warmth of your skin, the gentle flutter of your eyelashes as you looked up, and he was met with the depth pool of your warm eyes.

Beautiful.

His eyes fell onto your lips, and noticed they were moving ever so slightly, and he realized that he couldn’t hear what you were saying.

All the tables had been wiped down, the chairs by the table turned upside down, laying on the tabletops. The floor still streaked with what was definitely a mop, and guilt bubbled in his stomach. You were closing up, and by the looks of it, were nearly done as well.

Kirishima paused, he was here one minute before closing, and he froze. The heavy wooden door closing behind him with an awkwardly loud thud that only seemed to thunder in his ears as the world finally caught up.

“―anything?”

Kirishima blinked, his cheeks exploding with heat.

“What?”

He hadn’t heard you utter a single word.

He watched the way your lips pulled into an endearing, yet slightly exasperated smile, your eyes rolling.

“Did you want anything?” you repeated, hands placed on your hips in a taunting, near commanding way. “Coffee’s still on the pot, so if you want anything, let me know!”

“Did you already clean up?” Kirishima asks, his eyes falling to the floor to find the different wet streaks on the tile and avoid them if his shoe was dirty. He stops when he sees the cleaned and cleared coffee counter, and guilt floods him. “It looks like you’re mostly cleaned up; I don’t want you to get things dirty again, it’s okay.”

“It’ll take me five minutes tops to clean back up!” you retort, hands already moving to grab a to-go cup for him to have.

“No, no!” Kirishima exclaims, moving back towards the door as fast as he could. He didn’t want to cause you more work, and if anything, he would just wait for you to leave the shop, and he would simply walk you back to your apartment! That seemed like the more manly thing to do, right? “It’s okay! I’m okay! I’ll live without a cup!”

You snorted, slamming the cup onto the counter with definitive intentions, “Don’t be ridiculous, coffee addict!” you pointed to the spot before the cash register, pen in hand as you readied to write down his order. “Come. Don’t be silly! Can you turn off the open sign for me, though! What do you want?”

“I feel bad,” Kirishima frowns, turning off the neon light per request before turning back towards you. His hands stuffed into his pockets. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No, I don’t have to,” you say with a grin and a roll of your eyes. “But since I’m the reason your addiction is a thing, I’m more than happy to deal with the consequences, Kiri.”

There’s a beat, and Kirishima walks to the counter, his lower lip jutted out in a small pout, but the energetic smile painted on your lips melts his pout into a smile immediately.

“What do you suggest?”

“Café de Olla.”

His face scrunches at the so, very not Japanese words that come from your mouth.

“Cafe de la what?”

He watches your smile brighten by a tenfold, enjoying the way your eyes easily glitter with your mirth as you turn away from him.

“Café de Olla,” you repeat again, and he can only assume it’s Spanish. “It’s a Mexican coffee, that one of the transfer students we hired from Mexico introduced us to!” Kirishima watched as you went to a small pot of coffee, put a cleaned ladle in, and eventually poured in a slightly steaming cup of dark coffee. “I can’t remember the ingredients, but the main one is cinnamon! I know you like cinnamon, and since you’re a big boy black coffee drinker now, I think you’ll like it!”

Kirishima missed the teasing look on your face when you placed the truly dark coffee in front of him.

“Um,” Kirishima nervously laughed, staring at the cup of dark liquid before him. He hated black coffee. “Are you… are you gonna put any sugar or milk in it?”

“Nope! Drink up, handsome!”

Kirishima whimpered at both the nickname you had been calling him as of late and the coffee before him. Eventually, he picked up the warm cup, not at all deceived by the warm, sweet aroma of the cup of coffee in his hand ― the black coffee had smelled sweet too. Not one to back down, especially as you were in the process of cleaning up for the day, he took a hesitant, gentle sip of the coffee and froze.

Despite the bitter, dark persona the steaming cup gave, the liquid was sweet.

Very sweet.

It was light in its spice, warming him gently, and giving him a world of flavors he hadn’t been aware of. He drank the rest of it eagerly.

“Good, right?!” you exclaimed excitedly, having caught onto what Kirishima already knew to be his unmistakable likeness. “I wasn’t too sure of it at first either! I mean, I don’t really dabble with straight black coffee, but this just hits differently!”

Kirishima placed his sample down, the back of his hand rubbing his wet lips, his smile wide and excited. He couldn’t believe he actually liked a cup of coffee! “That was SO good, fuck! I didn’t think I was going to like that! Can I have a cup of this?”

He watched as you nodded your head excitedly, more stray pieces of hair falling out of place, framing your face even more as you grabbed the cup and made due to filling it up. Kirishima watched you the entire time you filled his cup up, his fingers blindly holding his bills of cash to give to you.

‘I’m going to do it,’ he thought as you placed a lid on the cup.

‘You got this!’ he encouraged himself as you walked over, handing off the warm cup into his hands. He softly smiled at the feeling of your warm, soft fingers brushing familiarly against his own.

‘DO IT!’

“Y-Y/l/n―”

“Babycakes, are you done out here?!” a voice hollered, and Kirishima stilled when a face emerged from the back. “I’m exhausted and ready to go!”

He watched as a tall girl with green eyes and brown hair emerged from the back room, her arms stretched precariously over her head, stepped into the bar. And the world slowed when her arms quickly enveloped you.

It was then that he remembered what you had said yesterday. The way that your face morphed from apologetic to bashful, the fluster in your eyes, and the way you bit your lip nervously as you said you had something to confess to him… was she… your confession?

“Ami!” you spluttered, and Kirishima watched the way the girl who was draped over your body, much taller than you were, smile at you endearingly as you, in your fluster, failed to get her off. “Kirishima ― a customer is here!”

The word customer echoed like a bell in the world's deepest cave in Kirishima’s ear.

He was just…

He was just a customer, after all.

His smile faded from a genuine one to a phony one as he watched your coworker/girlfriend fight you on showing affection, and eventually, you won.

“S-Sorry about that!” you stammered, trying to fix your outfit, your hair chaotically was undone. His throat nearly sealed off when your pristine eyes locked back up his; he felt light under your gaze, but oh, so, cold. “You were saying?”

“Just… um, thank you!” Kirishima mustered a feeble laugh, his hand grabbing the coffee in his hand, and without so much as a goodbye, he left the coffee shop. Your echoing salutation doing nothing but making him nauseous as heartbreak overtook him.

F I V E

The last time you had seen Kirishima, you served him the café de olla during that night, which was weeks ago.

By weeks you meant nearly two months; finals season had just finished.

Despite your obvious disappointment in not seeing the one person you were enamored with, you reasoned with yourself with every disappointing redhead who would enter the coffeeshop that you had never asked for his phone number, and he was an engineering student. He had to be busy.

Even if he wasn’t busy, you tried to reason, your brow set in a knit position as you washed the ceramic cups in the sink, he had every reason to never show back up again. He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything…

Thankfully, you heard the all too familiar sound of the front door being opened, and now with new company policy, you called out in greetings.

“Welcome!”

You quickly patted your hands dry on your apron, knowing that your coworker was on break at the moment, and turned to the entrance of the shop, and froze.

It was an all too familiar head of bright red spikes.

“Kiri!” you exclaimed happily, rushing over to the register with a bright, wide smile as you restrained yourself from flinging over the counter and hugging him tightly. Of course, that would have been both unprofessional and probably pushing the boundaries of your friendship/one-sided affections. “It’s been so long, how are you?!”

Kirishima stood on the other side of the counter, his hands shoved into his blue hoodie pocket, his eyes for the first time ever almost empty, the smile you knew he wore almost religiously, nowhere to be seen. In lieu of the smile, were lips pressed into a stout line, his face puckered just slightly enough as if he had smelled something sour moments before.

What was going on?

“You okay?” you ask, your once outstretched arms retracting into yourself, seeing that he was not reciprocating your movements. Your head tilted. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, Ei,” came a new voice. “Is something wrong?”

You almost startled when a girl with curly, pink hair seemed to appear from behind Kirishima. She had eyes of liquid gold, and a teasing smile on her face as she nudged Kirishima. “What’s going on?”

Your stomach flips in unwelcomed jealousy, your teeth biting the inside of your cheek in hopes that the girl wouldn’t catch on.

When the seconds felt like minutes of silence, the girl merely sighed, her attention focusing onto you with a look of slight mischief.

“Please excuse my friend―” you relax with the f word― “we’ve been friends since grade school, and he’s never been like that! Maybe he caught a bug during breakfast?”

“Mina…” Kirishima spoke softly, not quite a warning, not quite a whine.

“You must be the famous ‘y/l/n,’ I’ve heard so much about you!” the girl ― Mina ― exclaimed excitedly, her hands grabbing yours while nodding excitedly. “When I heard that Ei hadn’t gone for coffee in so long, I obviously had to force him to come! That and he totally made one of our friends throw away my coffee, and I need the coffee in my bloodstream to survive my dumb classes!”

The one-sided tension between you and Mina expelled quickly.

“Kiri hasn’t been here in a while, but I’m sure he’s got his reasons,” you defend your crush, your smile soft as you traded your locked gaze on Mina to look at Kirishima, who weakly, barely, horribly returned the smile. “But I can definitely help with the coffee! What can I get for you?”

“Good question…” Mina sighed, her eyes studying the menu with practiced skill.

Eventually, Mina ordered a chai tea latte with an oat milk substitution, a pump of caramel, and two shots of espresso. She squealed with delight when you placed her order in front of her, and maybe had you not been excited to get Kiri’s answer, you would have noticed the way his friend strategically walked towards the door to give you two your space.

“So, how can I help ya, handsome?” you ask, your smile back to full power, although a bit shy, unaffected by the brick wall of a man before you. “We’re out of the café de olla right now, but if you don’t mind waiting fifteen minutes, I can make you a fresh batch!”

That’s a lie, the pot of Mexican coffee is still completely filled, ready for Kirishima should he want it. But you were selfish; you were trying to get him to stay longer.

“Nah, that’s okay,” Kirishima shakes his head. “I don’t wanna bug ya. I’ll just take a caramel latte, no worries.”

Disappointment rams through you, but you try your best at hiding it.

“Oh, okay! I’ll get that started for you!” you try to chirp, grabbing a to-go cup and beginning the relatively short task. “How’ve you been?” you ask, trying to initiate old conversations.

“Good.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear! How were your finals? Mine was terrible! I had a professor who forgot what time section we were, so not only were we given only thirty minutes to finish the exam, but there was no compensation for his mistake!”

“Wow… that sucks. Mine were fine.”

“Nothing crazy happened?”

“No.”

“Um, okay… well, did you see that the animated Crimson Riot movie is out?!” you ask, pathetically hopeful that the biggest conversation card you held right now would give you something better than these simple, halfhearted responses. The movie had had no promos, just a message from the local theaters that it had been made and to come and watch it.

“Yup.”

…

“Oh, that’s cool! I just found out this morning when my dad called me! I’m not near home, so I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come and watch it with me?”

You froze. Was that a date you had asked him out on? It was, wasn’t it?! Your face exploded with heat, your fingers trembling as you poured the finished hot coffee into the cup.

“...I’d rather not.”

Oh.

“T-That’s okay! I’m sure I can find a friend or something to go watch it with me… or I’ll just wait until a holiday to see it with my dad… if it’s still out.”

“Hopefully, it’s still out by then,” Kirishima muttered, his face refusing to look at you, his eyes buried into his wallet as he handed you the change for his drink. “Thanks.” he rushed, grabbing his cup and turning on his heel.

“What’s wrong with you?” you manage to ask before you can keep your mouth shut, but you can’t help it. Your chest aches with his dismissal, with every sentence he spoke that horribly and effectively shut you down before you even had a chance. In the end, it seemed that your hurt feelings won out your need to be polite. “Did something happen? A-Are you okay? Did I do something?”

Kirishima freezes in his path.

“No, nothing happened.”

That was not the answer you were hoping to get.

“Then why are you acting like this?” you ask, your voice bordering a desperate plea for an answer.

For the past many weeks, you had never once thought that he had been avoiding you, ignoring you. You thought that maybe he had just been busy with his personal life, too busy with school and work to spare his free time entertaining you at work. But even if you were disillusioned with your admiration and feelings for him, you knew the two of you were friends. You had to have been friends!

Silence.

“What’s going on?” you ask again, your voice feeling small and weak.

“Nothing,” Kirishima reiterates, his head turning so you both looked at each other through the corner of his eyes. “Nothing happened, I just… couldn’t show up.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like being around you, not anymore.”

Those words wash over you like freezing water; they’re harsh, cruel, and mean. His face twisting up as if he was some snarling, upset animal. He didn’t want to be here, his face screamed, he felt like some cornered, caged animal.

Muted anger and heartache wash over you, your head nodding numbly as you laugh humorlessly. You had been the problem.

“Sorry for… for making you feel obligated in showing up,” you whisper, your soul feeling as though it was leaving your body, your face twisted in the horribleness in his words.

I don’t like being around you, not anymore.

He wasn’t even apologizing… he’d meant it… didn’t he?

Kirishima moves to walk away, his eyes glazed over similarly to your own, but you’re not done. Not quite yet.

“You know,” you manage to speak out, your voice starting off paltrily, an almost chuckle tickling the back of your throat, humming deeply in your chest. He stops. “This entire time, you always boasted about being ‘manly’… about being chivalrous and a decent human being. For the most part, I’ve always agreed and thought that you were manly, chivalrous, and a more than decent human being but now… I can’t believe you. You really came all this way after two months of avoiding me to tell me that you would never be showing up again? That the reason for you not returning was because you’re sick of me?”

He’s silent for a bit, and it's then you notice the tears falling down your face, “Thought it was manlier to tell you I wasn’t coming back then to stop showing up without a reason.”

“You already did that!” you snapped, suddenly piercing, thundering anger running through every cell of your body, raising the hair on your body. “You’re being a complete fucking dick now, Kirishima! For what? At least before I thought it was because you’re busy, but no, you just had to tell me it was because of me! Oh my god?! To think I have a crush on you?! That I was ready to confess to you the next fucking time we had a moment together?!”

You felt hysterical, his reasoning jumbling and twisting in your mind, not at all feeling coherent, and your blazing feelings that were now biting you in the ass… you wanted to make him feel guilt most of all. With tears falling bitterly, angrily down your face, you stared at Kirishima. He was finally facing you, looking you dead on with emotion-filled eyes and a gaping fish mouth ― opening and closing pathetically.

“Get out,” you spoke with a serenity you were not quite feeling, your finger thrust toward the front door.

“Y-Y/l/n―”

“I don’t want to hear it,” you laugh bitterly, no longer wanting to have whatever it is that he wanted to say.

He was just a customer, not a friend, only a customer.

You didn’t need to be his friend anymore.

“Get. Out. Now.”

You didn’t wait for him to leave, turning on your heel, you walked to the backroom, not daring to return to the front until he left.

You’d forgotten how much rejection hurt.

O N E

Whoever said heartbreak was healed with a wild night out, a pint of ice cream and crying had clearly been built differently from you.

One wild night out with your friends, two pints of ice cream, and thirty crying sessions later, you were still sulking as you simply existed. You weren’t even sure why you were overreacting either?! He had been a crush, not a boyfriend!

Lord save you for whenever an actual reciprocated lover dumped you, you were probably never going to recover. Still, you couldn’t let it affect you all that much; you were still going about your day as you usually would, just… sulking.

“You’re a blessing in my life,” your coworker sighed as she came out from the back, her hands moving to release her hair from her bun, her purse slung against her chest as she continued to thank you. “I promise you the next time we work together, I’ll clean up on my own!”

You shake your head, waving her off as you dried some of the dishes lying about.

“We aren’t busy, and there’s no one here, I’ll clean up just fine!” you laugh, glancing over your shoulder to look at her. “Just buy me a pastry tomorrow or something. I’ve closed on my own many times, I’ll be fine! There's no coffee demand this late at night anyway!”

“Fine! I won’t forget! But don’t complain if there’s more than one pastry!”

“Oh my god, LEAVE!” you yell, blindly pointing at the door for her to leave, and you hear her resounding laughter as she finally does go.

“Oops, sorry, welcome and excuse me!” you hear her exclaim as she steps out, and you turn around, already knowing that it’s a customer.

Taking your coworkers' welcome as the company greeting, you merely shouted out that you’d be right with them as you finished washing ― you were almost done with them anyways. Finally done, you turned around, eyes on your thighs as you dried your hands on your apron.

“Alright, how can I help…” you froze when you caught sight of familiar, warm red eyes. “...you.”

Kirishima.

He looked at you with blushing, puffed cheeks, his eyes full of mixing, swirling emotions that you probably couldn’t handle to hear (especially if he had come to yell at you). You don’t know what to do, merely looking at him before sighing.

“The usual?” you ask, moving to get things as smoothly and effortlessly as you could (you had been yelled at for your emotional outburst by your boss).

“Uh, actually, no. I’m okay,” Kirishima spoke up as soon as you pulled out a paper cup, and you stopped, looking at him with your best attempt at dull, emotionless eyes.

“What can I get for you then?” you try again, hating the way that you want to smile at him, to pretend that nothing happened two weeks ago; that this was his first time back.

“I have to confess something,” Kirishima states, his fingers fisting into his ridiculous mismatched athleisure clothing. “I actually really, really, really hate coffee…”

You blinked.

You hadn’t expected that confession.

“Um, okay? Well, then can I make you some―”

“I’m not quite done, sorry,” Kirishima apologized, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in his embarrassment. “I hate coffee, and I don’t like being dishonest, but really, I feel like I’ve been lying to you this entire time.”

“...what?”

“I told you at some point that I had come into this shop by coincidence, but that’s not true! I’ve been passing by for months before stepping foot into here! I had always seen you working through the front window, and you just… you captivated me from that very moment, but I’ve been too weak, nervous, and totally unmanly and could never build up the courage to come in! It took me a year to build up the courage to come in ― which is why I nearly broke the front door that first day! I was so nervous about messing up; I just overexerted my strength!”

Kirishima laughed, his hands raking through his spiked hair, and you could only stare at him as the gelled hair began to fall under his ministrations.

“See, the truth is, I’ve liked you for a long time. Like a long time. And then, when I came in, and we became friends, I only fell for you even more, and I’ve been trying to work up the courage to confess to you! But every time I tried, something bad happened! Like the grouchy old man in the line, how you got sick and couldn’t work! But a true man doesn’t give up until it’s over… and I thought that girl who was hugging you and kissing your cheek that one day was your girlfriend, so I gave up! But the thing is, I was a coward, so fucking unmanly that I couldn’t be around you without you being mine! And so I left because it hurt… but it hurt not being around you, so Mina brought me here! But then you said… you said you liked me back, and unless you’re in a polyamorous relationship, there’s no way for you to have said feelings and confess them to me like that!”

He stopped, his breath frantic, panting, and you could only look up with him with a mirrored breathing pattern despite your quietness.

“I’m here because I’m tired of being weak and unmanly. I’m here because I have deep feelings for you, and I want to ask you out!”

You’re silent for a bit, the temerity of his words loud and clear in your ears, ringing with the need to be addressed. For the first time since he had walked out of your life for the first time, a warmth bubbled in your chest.

“You know,” you whisper, your eyes locked with his, the tears in your eyes freely showing. “This coffee shop does, in fact, have tea?”

“Wha―?”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish the curious ask, your hands grabbing his shirt and bringing him close, his nose brushing against yours but your lips hovering below his own.

“Can I kiss you?” you whisper, your eyes falling to his lips for a second before coming back to his eyes that shone brightly, vividly, excitedly.

“Please?”

Your lips found themselves pressed against his, and the two of you stood there, leaning against the counter by the cash register. Lips passionately, smoothly, deeply pressing against one another as electricity traveled slowly down your spine as his hands pressed against your ribcage. When you pulled away, his eyes fluttered open after yours, and he had the brightest, dumbest smile on his face.

“Would you like to go see the Crimson Riot movie with me?”

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha

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ascottywrites · 4 years ago

Text

AO3 History

That list that I, for some reason, think is valid enough to share. My personal Ao3 History.

Saddle up. The inner interests of my brain are kind of all over the place.

The Basement by My_Write_Life (Wip: 25/? | 40,696) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Stiles doubles back to the Argent’s house to free Erica and Boyd before making it back home. In which Stiles, not forgetting all about Erica and Boyd very much remaining in the basement saves them, Derek and Peter killing Jackson does make him go through the process of rebirth but he is brought back human and not a werewolf. Allison and her family go through the very legal repercussions of abducting three teenagers and Scott and Stiles friendship is put on hold because of that. Derek’s still the alpha.

Strip by Fessst (Wip: 12/? | 54,439) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

"Singletail whip. Your favorite, isn't it?" Red. Stiles felt nauseated as he bent over the bench. Red. The tremble only increased when his wrists and ankles were secured with leather straps. Red. He heard the Dom behind him give a sample crack of the whip in the air. Red. This would likely pierce his skin. So fucking Red. "What's your safeword?" Red. "Stiles?" "The... the stoplights, Sir."

When Your Back’s Against the Wall by A_Diamond, Michicant123 (Complete: one-shot | 11,976) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Fifteen years ago, the country of Beacon was shaken to its core when three slaves murdered most of the royal Hale family and one of the politically powerful Argents in the course of a single night.

Six years ago, Stiles Stilinski was forced to grow up fast and hard when his dying mother, herself a freed slave, left him at the head of an abolitionist revolution.

Two months ago, beloved princess-to-be Allison Argent was assassinated; three weeks ago, Stiles was caught and charged with her death.

Five hours ago, he was sentenced to serve the remaining Hales—tyrannical King Peter and reclusive Prince Derek—as a slave for the rest of his life. In a palace where the only people who may hate him more than the king are the ever-present family of the woman he’s convicted of murdering, the best he can hope for is that death will only be a few torturous years away.

Caution: swallowing dick may lead to injury - memoirs of a size queen

raeupchen (Complete: one-shot | 7,115) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

“Derek, can you give me my phone? I want to document this memorable moment,” Stiles said, before making grabby motions in the direction of his phone. Derek – unable to deny the other man anything – gave him the device before sitting back in his chair. He only raised one eyebrow when he saw what Stiles was up to. Apparently ‘documenting this memorable moment’ meant for Stiles to take a selfie and post it online. He showed Derek the picture with the caption ‘Dick sent me to the ER’.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep (Complete: one-shot | 1,423) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated Teen and Up]

"It’s been five months," Derek says darkly. "Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks."

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Cornerstone by Vendelin for foreverblue_navy (Complete: 6/6 | 83,738) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Suffering from PTSD, ex-Marine Derek Hale moves back to Beacon Hills to open a bookshop and find a calmer life. That’s where he meets Stiles, completely by accident. Stiles is talkative, charming and curious. Somehow, despite the fact that he’s blind, he’s able to read Derek like no one else.

The Triskelion Mafia - Volume I by JamesAlexander (Complete: 10/10 | 20,834) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Derek Aletto saw his family being killed in front of him. Years of ruling the underworld of the organized crime were flushed down with the flames and the shot of a gun. Sixteen years later, under the name of the Triskelion Mafia, the family is back, leaded by Derek. He keeps his most trusted people close, for the Argento family is forever watching, trying to usurp Derek's prestige among the hidden world of New York. And everything seems to go according to plan, until the Argentos set an ambush for Derek's consigliere, Lydia Martini, and in the middle of the rush for survival, she ends up bringing Stiles along with her to the family's hideout.

tipping scales by jdphoenix (Complete: 2/2 | 3,810) Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.: BioSpecialist [Rated Teen and Up]

An early morning emergency wakes Jemma and Grant.

Slick As A Baby Seal by Faradaze (Wip: 52/? | 131,098) Game Of Thrones: Brimund TarthBane [Rated E]

Tormund is in love/lust. Brienne is repulsed, then intrigued. The story begins shortly after Brienne arrives at Castle Black. This is my interpretation and expansion of the greatest ship that never was. Spoilers for GoT season 6, canon divergent as of season 7.

Rich Man, Poor Man by TyReed (Complete: 10/10 | 58,055) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated M]

During a first date gone horribly wrong, Stiles Stilinksi realizes that the snarky guy he's been asked out by is actually Derek Hale, an heir to Hale Industries, one of the most profitable companies in the entire world. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in the son of a teacher and a cop, a loser who spends all weekend watching movies in his pajamas, and who is also possibly one of the biggest dorks on the Internet.

At the same time, after screwing up their first date horribly, Derek Hale realizes that the funny guy he's asked out is Stiles Stilinksi, the warmest and kindest individual he's ever met in his life, with a family just a loving and caring. Who is, for whatever reason, interested in a guy who screws up everything he does, lacks any semblance of a backbone, and who is possibly one of the biggest history dorks in all of the United States.

These rich and poor men will come to experience a taste of each other's lives, and learn where the real blessings in the world can be found.

Bonds of Blood, Bonds of Family, Bonds of Love by TyReed (Complete: 10/10 | 44,003) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated M]

After being beaten up by a door, werewolf Stiles Stilinksi finds himself bonded to Derek Hale, of the Hale Noble Bloodline. For a scrawny, wimpy, Tainted Bloodline werewolf, Stiles runs away, embarrassed and humiliated as he worries about bringing shame to the Hale Family, and even more shame to himself. Because the Nobles and Tainted just don't mix, never have, never will.

Except, things aren't exactly what they seem.

With the help of the (meddling) Hale family, his adoptive (meddling) human parents John and Claudia Stilinksi, and one very persistent Alpha Derek Hale, Stiles might come to see himself as more than just the blood that runs through his veins, and open his heart to find the happiness, friends, pack, and the family that he'd always wanted.

Matenapped by xcaellachx (Complete: 12/12 | 36,671) Teen Wolf: Sterek [Rated E]

Alpha Derek Hale has known Spark Stiles Stilinski was his mate for over six years. The traumatized Spark had killed the rogue alpha who tried to kill his friend so many years ago and was still scarred by the experience. Now, Stiles was settled in as a magic shop owner and Derek was ready to claim him for his own. The ritual of matenapping was an old but accepted tradition and Derek had his den ready to receive his mate. It was time.

Stiles Stilinski thought Lydia was insane for thinking the sexy alpha wanted to matenap him. He was damaged by his past and determined to stay single so he didn't harm anyone. He kept his magic tightly leashed and couldn't believe that anyone could want him. Not a murderer. Even when the wolf came to see him and touched him gently, winking at him and looking at him longingly, he just couldn't accept it.

Very soon, Stiles wouldn't have a choice but to believe it. Derek was taking his mate and bringing him to his mating den where he would court and woo him until he couldn't help but fall in love with him.

(A/N: This is a lighthearted fic for the most part. This isn't an evil kidnapping/fall in love with your captor type. Not very serious at all, to be honest. Enjoy!)

**I could have sworn I had more eclectic tastes but I guess in 2018 I was firmly about the Sterek.

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hermannsthumb · 4 years ago

Note

What if Hermann had a daily reminder set on his phone to “Kiss Newton” and that reminder went off right after a big fight...

heehee.....

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Newton has a habit of interrupting Hermann at random intervals of the day when he feels he needs attention, which should really come as no surprise to Hermann (having known the man long, long before they entered into a romantic relationship, after all), though it does not make him any less of a nuisance for it. It’s especially a nuisance to someone like Hermann, who really does not like interruptions or deviations from his routine. He makes his hourly agendas days in advance—breakfast, work, lunch, brief five minute period of self-pity, etcetera—with little to no room for sporadic events. Certainly Hermann could account for Newton, and he technically does to a certain extent (usually tacked on at the end of the day under the all-encompassing title of private time), but Newton can hardly be expected to keep a schedule.

He likes to do things like hold Hermann’s hand while they do paperwork—which extends the whole process considerably, on account of how distracted Hermann gets—and come up from behind Hermann and hug him while he’s at his chalkboard, and derail their strictly work-related conversations over meals to become long arguments instead, and even—most of all, in fact—kiss Hermann when Hermann’s in the midst of doing the most innocuous tasks. Like scrubbing a mug at the work sink, or sharpening a pencil. Newton finds they make Hermann irresistible, apparently.

“Not now,” Hermann finally sighs one day, when, standing at his chalkboard, he feels one of Newton’s hands settle on his waist in that tell-tale fashion that means Hermann’s either about to be spun around into an impromptu slow dance, or Newton is going to kiss him. Hermann has time for neither. “Really, Newton—I’m quite busy.”

“Good. I am, too,” Newton says. He presses up against Hermann’s back, and Hermann feels the curve of his grin against his skin. “I made you coffee. Come take a break with me.”

“Break. As if,” Hermann snorts, even as he shivers again with the little kiss Newton plants behind his ear. “I know what you have in mind, Newton. I’m too busy for that right now.”

“Too busy to kiss your boyfriend?” Newton whines.

“I have a schedule,” Hermann says.

“A schedule that doesn’t include kissing your boyfriend?”

Hermann turns, though is unmoved in the face of Newton’s pout. “I told you this last week. I’ll be more than happy to— What are you doing?” he trails off, as Newton suddenly reaches into his pocket and draws out his phone.

“Updating your schedule,” Newton says. He taps in Hermann’s passcode (which Hermann had not been aware Newton had guessed) and then taps around a few more times in Hermann’s calendar app. “And… here.” He tosses the phone back to Hermann: he’s created a new daily event, 2:30-2:45, Kiss Newton.

It’s 2:29 now. Hermann feels invisible seconds tick away until his phone begins to vibrate. Newton waggles his eyebrows. “Well, come on,” he says.

Hermann rolls his eyes, but he pulls Newton in by his tie nonetheless. He’s nothing if not punctual.

The alarm, it turns out, was set up to be reoccurring, and for the next week and a half Hermann is startled out of his concentration time and time again by his phone suddenly lighting up and ordering him to Kiss Newton. Newton, on the other hand, is never startled by it: he’s ready and lurking by Hermann’s workspace each time, broad grin on his face, hands shoved into his pockets. It’s no matter what either of them had been doing up until then—he’s always there, and ready. (“I know how important staying on schedule is to you,” Newton tells him.)

Hermann can’t complain about it. Chastely kissing Newton for ten or so minutes is, regrettably, a very bright spot of his day.

Of course, Newton and Hermann’s relationship is tenuous at best. Even a week of good days can’t prevent their inevitable mutual blow-ups over the pettiest little things. By the following Tuesday, they’re screaming at each other over one of Newton’s kaiju samples, of which Newton is convinced Hermann managed to stealthily move and hide from him. “It takes two of us to wheel the damn things in here in the first place, you moron,” Hermann shouts. “How the hell could I have moved it alone? And even if I did, where would I have hidden it?”

“I don’t know,” Newton shouts back. He’s rifling through the storage closet, tossing cans of instant coffee and boxes of disposable work gloves behind him, and making a great big mess of everything. A majority of the rest of the laboratory is in a similar state. “I’m not the one who hid it. All I know is that I came back from lunch and it was gone.”

“I was at lunch with you!”

“But you left before me!” Newton says. He turns on his heels, throwing his hands up in the hair. His face is red with anger. “You could’ve—”

“In five minutes?” Hermann says. He tosses his chalk to the ledge of his board and seizes his cane, halfway to waving it at Newton in anger. “They probably wheeled it away as a bloody health hazard. I don’t know why you’re so certain—”

There’s a knock on the laboratory door. Three maintenance workers stand in the doorway, Newton’s missing kaiju sample in its tank between them. Hermann deflates. “Dr. Geiszler?” one of them says. “We had to wheel this out earlier when we came in to fix the A/C because it was in the way, and forgot to bring it back—sorry.”

“Oh,” Newton says. He drops his arms; the red flush of his face slowly creeps away, only to be replaced with an embarrassed blush. “Right.”

“Where should we put it?” the man says.

“Uh,” Newton says. “Just—by the sink is fine. Thanks, guys.”

The group move to replace the tank in silence, and Hermann watches Newton in silence, too, with nothing but a scowl. He waits until they’ve left to speak. “As I told you,” he says, calmly, and turns back to his equations. “I never set foot on your side of the laboratory.”

“Hermann, look, I’m—”

But Hermann ignores him. After a few unsuccessful moments of repeating his name with half-arsed apologies, Newton returns to his work, too.

At 2:30, Hermann’s phone buzzes.

His heart sinks when he realizes the time. Kiss Newton. Bugger. He shuts the alarm off quickly before Newton can hear it, too, but he’s not sure if there was even a chance of it; Newton is wholly absorbed in his dissection, and doesn’t so much as flinch at the sudden flurry of motion across the laboratory. Kiss Newton. He doesn’t think either of them are up for it today.

Kiss Newton. Hermann bites his lip.

Newton inhales sharply when he feels Hermann come up behind him, though he’s silent when Hermann plants a small kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry I was cross with you,” Hermann murmurs. He goes back in for another kiss to the cheek, and Newton turns his head to the side just enough to catch Hermann’s mouth for a proper one.

“Don’t,” Newton says. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I’m sorry I yelled at you over some stupid sample.” He kisses Hermann again, briefly. “I was being dumb.”

“Oh, we both were,” Hermann says. He smiles. “Will you come to the couch? We’ve only got ten minutes left in our break, you know.”

Newton grins back, and sheds his work gloves to take Hermann’s hand.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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the-firebird69 · 2 years ago

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John remillard is sheriff it's rude to you and reckon you you are not going to make it and it did it again the same routine and had him defecate in public and it is a misdemeanor has to be witnessed by law enforcement and was not and we know because he was hidden and we don't have anything else to say he's not admitting here. It's not easy to anything I said but really you're trying to threaten them for global conquest and having to take a poo and we get rid of you cuz we can see you cuz you're saying it out loud and you threaten other stuff which is worse and you see it around surgery and to harm him and we go after you. Just not really illegal it's not his property so once he's fired they're going to take the tape down

Thor Freya

What a wimp and a crazy person and really you people are nothing to stop threatening them and you got separated you're walking around weakest crap playing a huge guy he's got super strength right in front of everyone as if you can't do something to stop you it's ridiculous there's just sit here and watch it so we can get at you you're aggravating the s*** out of us or walking it out of this it's obscene a joke. He knows you do it to us you harm me this you're always the space with this huge enemy he'd rather waste yourselves than do anything that's understood you don't even understand the math don't even have a calculator. Here it is he's after him to get a motorcycle he won't says it you proceed blind arrogant swine. We stick you now pull you in loser trump

Tim d.

I saw it outrageous he's dead. Sherrif tomorrow tried ok left and ohhh he's an idiot and dead wow ok wow. She's doing the job he's saying it..no. is. We hit him ok.

Mike tew

We saw it awful crew then we walk him do diagnosis. See he's our King ours ok

Frank Castle hardcastle

Duke Nukem Blockbuster it says it too and sleep in a dumpster that's been decontaminated cleanse and is sealed and has a fresh air supply and what's the point and it's not hot that's what it is and we worry about it and we know the same but really but boy these people take the case is tomorrow the event is tomorrow we hope so he's out of control there's a complete jerk

Today they're firing tons and tons of them and their little show isn't going to help them. Delaware 10 individuals who went out and we noted who they were a little bit and to gather people from the Miami area and come across Florida four of them have passed away and we started with ten houses. Five houses went out and four houses returned it's another round today during the day and then state it too. It says he's treated badly it's not a team member you guys want to take over and don't know anything about life and you don't have friends you don't have real family it's ridiculous to do that to someone the bag of f****** idiot and we are aware of that and it's absolutely true. They treated like a little more honest treated like a stranger and don't care you're not going to go anywhere cuz it's not really what works. Jason's going with you you carry all the tools in and out of the truck do the work he's just going to stand there and talk to his people on the phone and blow it up your ass you know it's not life it's not even spying it's ridiculous s*** that's b******* and I bet he doesn't do that but boy it's close our son says that and yeah that's what they're like so they can't see what other people do and a whole bunch of them are dead on the field. They're taking off right after breakfast they say and after that song they can't stand it and no it's not the singing like our son thought and daughter.

We're cleaning up the mess and we have to but he says I'm probably just get a sample you know how to do that sort of so we're after it you want to see how and it's not a mystery but it's going to take a while and we tested the other one didn't see it apparently noon in Case by noon.

There are other things happening here in punta Gorda being announced it and give Thor Freya a break, there are several people who are getting fired from their jobs here and John remillard is one it's a five remaining jobs in each town and the sheriff's position is sheriff prumel and he's not trying to his own and holding it against him and he's not kind to our son and he doesn't have a good reputation it's not working. I'm taking it out on him but really the max are and if they're planning to do it it's the Year of the cat and you got it from Vietnam and saying the Vietnamese to it but they found it it's the second one for real and they're not worried about it they should be but that's how it goes in the back world. It's not only him it's about 8% more to come up to about 94% from 85 so it's about 9% roughly and somewhere in there and they plan on doing it today the government positions in all of Florida any plan on doing it pretty soon. It's a lot of positions yesterday and the day before they went after married and controller positions and today they're going after the sheriff the police fire departments councilman and other service positions such as head of public works and head of other departments and they're replacing them with Max and we are filling underneath rapidly and foreigners are grasping at jobs too. You're stating that they don't want to put money into a facility of ours or things so senses when I just duplicate it it's the idea it's not necessary to rip it off it's going to be there throughout the duration and this is not a bad idea keeps order and clones don't want it. And it stops to John hopefully to a degree. And these positions are huge they're important and you see them on TV all the time they haven't touched the state legislature is not true this overlap of characters now they haven't touched the state legislature or the federal legislature but it was talking about state governments so far it's not true these are public jobs and throughout the country they should reach 70% including federal jobs and the Senate and Congress to the last. And they're doing it almost completely upside down and it's to send a message to them that they know how it works and then it's ridiculous and it is they don't have people who think in their own and yeah it's similar across the board but okay. And there's some other things going on too but this is a huge day and it's a very sad day for a lot of people these positions are of power and a lot of power in this area along with those spots are the military which is in Florida and elsewhere too but here in Florida they're going to try and push them out of all the bases all at once at the same time it's a huge number of bases

More shortly

Frank Castle hardcastle

I got something to announce too we have a lot of stuff going on today and it's more than people want to talk about and it's more than they want to look at but it's happening they're trying to get in here again unsuccessfully do not very good at and they're getting hit they're getting laid out and a lot of them are getting hit really bad you don't have time right now for TBI and it's happening they don't have the energy to recuperate and it's happening let me see it's difficult today would be terrifyingly bad for warlock didn't try and leave a lean on her son heavily hospital jail all sorts of things will start to work now here we need more people more facilities we had to do it last night and for his request and still not enough we need a lot more here and pronto so I'm ordering it now

Duke Nukem Blockbuster

We're following through and doing it too and a lot of it and we're assessing it now

Olympus

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finnishcrimestory · 3 years ago

Text

The lake Bodom murders

On 4th of June 1960 vocational school students Maila Irmeli Björklund (15) and her friend Anja Tuulikki Mäki (15) accompanied their mutual friends Nils Wilhelm Gustafsson (18) and Seppo Antero Boisman (18) and went camping to the shore of the lake Bodom, located in Högnäs Espoo. It wasn't a long time after the murders that happened in the Tulilahti camping site (only one year) so the parents of the girls weren't exactly happy to let their daughters going to the trip, but they let them go on the last minute. They went with the boys’ motorcyckles and set their camp and tent near a local beach. They hung out and went to sleep around 12 am. After only couple hours of sleep however they woke up and at that time the two guys went fishing. After that they all went back to sleep.

Little is known what happened next, but on 5th of June early in the morning someone attacked the youngsters hitting them in the head with something heavy and blunt. Boisman and Björklund were also stabbed, Björklund over 10 times. The murderer stabbed them through the tent fabric. The primary cause of death for Boisman, Björklund and Mäki was skull fracture. Nils Gustafsson was able to flee from inside the tent, but the killer hit him on the head possibly with a rock. He was the only one to survive the attack but he had multiple fractures on his skull as well. Gustafsson was found laying on top of the collapsed tent and he spent weeks in a hospital and made full recovery.

The victims were found on the next morning after people started to arrive at the beach. Gustafsson was alive like previously stated, but he was barely conscious. The police was quickly on the scene and during the same day they were able to conduct multiple stop checks and the biggest ever terrain exploration around the area. During this exploration the police were able to find 88 wanted people but were unable to find the killer.

The victims were missing their belongings, including their wallets and some of their clothing. Some of the clothing and shoes belonging to Gustafsson were found about a half a kilometers away from the scene, hidden away behind a rock. Other belongings and a jacket belonging to Boisman were never found during the investigation.

The murder weapon was never found. Gustafsson told the investigators that after they went to sleep he doesn't remember anything. There were eye witnesses, but what they were able to see were just some movement on the shore. 14 year old Olavi Kivilahti saw a blond man wearing a light colored shirt walking past the camp about 50 meters away, but Olavi was nearsighted and he wasn't wearing any glasses so his sighting is questionable. The police received over 50 notices of the blond man to the end of July but none of those resulted in an arrest.

After some time had passed and the police still had no idea who had murdered the youngsters, they decided to hypnotize Gustafsson. It was conducted on 2nd to 5th of July 1960. The 14 year old boy Olavi was also hypnotized couple times. During the hypnosis both of them described the suspect and drawings were done based on the descriptions, but it didn't lead to anything. Gustafsson described a man who cut a hole on the tent and hit them with a knife and with a metal pipe.

The description for the killer was: aged around 20 to 30 years old, not young nor old, height about 173-174 cm (5'8), normal body type (heavier than Gustafsson though), round face, red cheeks, long blond hair combed back, normal ears with round earlobes, high wrinkled forehead, big eyes (color unknown), straight nose (not long nor short), normal light eyebrows, bold lips, strong jaw, short neck, white teeth (unknown if some are missing), big and thick fingers; special characteristics: pimples on forehead and cheeks. Clothing: plaid shirt with black buttons (buttoned up all the way), shirt contains many colors, at least black and green.

Suspects

Pauli Luoma

At first the police were searching a man that had been spotted in the area carrying a bag belonging to the victims. He had black beard and he was walking with a bicycle. He had also been spotted coming out from the forest wearing a bloody shirt. He was Pauli Kustaa Luoma, a runaway from a labor camp who had an alibi for the night. He had been in Otaniemi, Espoo during the murders. Otaniemi is 19 kilometers (11 miles) away from the lake Bodom which is about 23 minute trip.

Pentti Soininen (b. around 1945, d. 1969)

At the end of 1960, 24 year old Pentti Soininen confessed while in Kuopio prison that he murdered the youngsters. During the murders he was 15 years old and it was true that he had been near the lake during the murders, because he had run away from approved school. The police interrogated him but they did not give much weight to his confession. Soininen was described as a psychopath who could act in a very peculiar ways especially under the influence of drugs and alcohol. Soininen had a long list of crimes under his name: thefts, assaults and robberies. Soininen committed suicide by hanging in Toijala train station while he was being transferred to a prison in 1969.

Valdemar Gyllström (b. 1909, d. 1969)

Karl Valdemar Gyllström was a suspect for a long time. He was known to hate campers and he often acted aggressively. His nickname was "Kiosk-man" because he apparently had a kiosk. He drowned himself to the lake Bodom in 1969 and people said he confessed murdering the youngsters before this. His neighbor told that he had said: "It was me who killed them". Gyllström had apparently filled and closed his well on his yard couple days after the murders and that led to his house and yard being carefully searched. However nothing was found, though it is possible all the stolen belongings had been discarded. Gyllström's son-in-law has been told to be certain that the murder weapon lies at the bottom of the closed and filled well. According to the police, Gyllström had an alibi for the night, an alibi that had been confirmed by Gyllström's wife. His wife had told that she had been up all night and according to her, Gyllström hadn't left the house. However, shortly before the wife died she told that Gyllström had threatened to kill her if she told the truth. What truth? Who knows.

Hans Assman (b. 1923, d. 1998)

One of the most known suspect was German-born Hans Assman, who has also been suspected to being a KGB spy. On 6th of June 1960 Assman was brought to Helsinki surgical hospital where he acted in a very weird way. People in the hospital also noticed how unkempt Assman was: his fingernails were very dirty and his clothes were full of red stains. Assman lied to the hospital staff the reason for his condition but he told the truth about his way of living (he lived about 5 km (3 miles) away from the lake). He also pretended to being unconscious and he was aggressive and nervous. Assman's description reminded a lot of the description of the suspect. When the news informed the characteristics of the suspect, Assman cut his hair short.

Jorma Palo who at the time worked in the hospital as an amanuensis was very certain Assman was the killer. Many people from the hospital's staff also agreed with Palo. The police met with Assman very briefly and they did not want to discuss with the hospital staff. They also did not take Assman's stained clothes for inspection. Palo later wrote three books about the murders and about Assman. Former detective inspector Matti Paloaro connected Assman to five other murders as well, among them the murder of Kyllikki Saari and even the death of minister Penna Tervo. Assman was a perfect match for the description given by Gustafsson and Olavi. However according to the police Assman had a perfect alibi. It wasn't revealed for the public that time though, because it had a sensitive nature.

The documents about Assman became public in 2005. According to them Assman had been with his girlfriend during the night. She lived as a subtenant and her landlord and -lady saw Assman sitting eating breakfast in the morning. The documents verify that then 36 year old Assman did spent the night in the apartment (located in Helsinki) during the murders. Assman had had this affair going on for years (he had a wife). Assman slept in the same bed with his 33 year old girlfriend. The bedroom door had been open for the entire night and no one noticed Assman leaving at any point during the night (apparently if he would’ve left, it would have been noticed). Assman woke up at 9 am and at that time the murders had already been committed and the first passerby's had noticed the collapsed tent. According to the police the red stains on Assman's clothing were paint that he had used while at work. Jorma Palo was the one who suspected Assman being a KGB agent and that he was being protected. The police has been saying that Palo's books were pure fiction.

Two people fishing

The two young men who were fishing on the lake during the murders were never identified. They never came forward to the police even though it was asked multiple times. What was weird is that the two men left the fish they caught behind. Nothing is known of them.

Nils Gustafsson

44 years after the murders in 2004 the lone survivor Nils Gustafsson was suddenly arrested as a suspect. The blood samples gathered from the tent supported Gustafsson being the perpetrator. The police also informed that DNA technology revealed things that couldn't be found back in the 60s. However during the trial nothing significant was uncovered from the samples.

Gustafsson has been saying he doesn't remember anything about the murders since the day one and that hasn't changed. He thinks he got brain damage from the attack and that resulted to amnesia. During the trial an important point was to find out whether the blows to his head were strong enough to result to amnesia. The prosecutors tried strongly to belittle the injuries Gustafsson suffered and they claimed he exaggerated them.

According to the prosecutors Gustafsson and Seppo Boisman had been drinking on the night of the murders and then started to have an argument. The prosecutors also claimed that Maila Björklund had turned down Gustafsson's sexual advances and this would've led to Gustafsson losing his temper. The claim is supported by the stabbing wounds on Björklund's body: according to the coroner she was stabbed 15 times.

The district court excluded all the charges on 7th of October 2005. According to it nothing proved that Gustafsson murdered his friends. They disqualified the jealousy claims also. They excluded everything because the eye witness sightings were pointing to an outsider perpetrator.

The investigation and trial got a lot of attention but Gustafsson was freed in 2005. The prosecutors did not complain about the verdict to the court of appeals.

Gustafsson gave one very rare press conference. During it journalists were very aggressive with their approach and pointed out the illogical things in the things he had said: it was weird he claimed he didn't remember anything but at the same time he remembered that he for sure wasn't the one who murdered his friends. Gustafsson didn't explain himself further though, he stated: "I am innocent and that's that."

The National Bureau of Investigation had an investigator who testified something very interesting. He claimed that after Gustafsson had been arrested he had said: "What is done is done, I got fifteen years", which was seen to be a confession. This testify wasn’t told immediately though, it was only told during the trial. Gustafsson himself said he doesn't remember saying anything like that and if he did, it was simply a joke. The district court stated that it wasn't investigated properly. They also said: "The fact that the saying did not lead to any action points to the fact that even if Gustafsson would've said it, it wasn't a confession and even the investigator who heard it in the first place did not think that way either during the time."

To this day the murders are still unsolved and it is believed by many Finns that they will never be solved.

#bodom #the lake bodom #murder #Finland #Finnish #unsolved #true crime #the lake bodom murders #history #finnish crime

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saphie3243 · 4 years ago

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First Solstice

For my Secret Snowflake @tomtenadia

Nesta spends her first Solstice sober in Illyria, unable to bring herself to brave the inner circle celebration for a second year in a row.

Word Count: 5500+

Read on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28297182

There was something soothing about a room being so crowded it became hard to breathe. Better still when the music was so loud you can’t hear yourself think. Best when bodies are grinding, booze is flowing, and something to smoke is being passed around. Everyone was here for the same reason, everyone wanted a distraction. Amren had made several comments that she couldn’t believe Nesta got males to go home with her when she smelled like sweat and a distillery. She apparently didn’t understand that everyone smelled the same at places like this.

The band was better than usual. The music was… actually good. Maybe that’s why the bar was extra packed today. Or maybe it was because Solstice was tomorrow and no one wanted to think about all the ways they’ve disappointed their families this year.

Disappointing. The male she dragged into the bathroom was just that. He wasn’t even worth the time she wasted not getting another bottle of wine. She didn’t even let him finish before booting him out and stumbling back to her favorite stool. The bartender knows her by now and has mulled wine waiting.

It’s warm and more mulled than wine. She nodded to him. They know how to take care of her here, she certainly spends enough. Leo is decent enough to warn her off of the less than savory types that might be interested in more than even she was willing to give. She sighs back into the glass. Why she felt the need to judge herself when tomorrow she was going to get 5 times over from Feyre and insipid little family was why she needed another glass.

She turned around in her stool, facing back out, watching the crowd move in a formless mass. This band had changed over. The new one wasn’t nearly as good. Several months haunting bars and clubs to all hours in the morning had provided Nesta a proper sampling of Velaris’ bands, and, in her mind, gave her a liberty to criticize as she saw fit. This crater-faced crooner was pitchy and couldn’t move a room if he winnowed them. That earlier one had a woman out front. She was unusual for a Fae. She was beautiful, yes, but she wasn’t the wispy waif most fae women were. She was tall and built, covered in a layer of extra fat that filled out wonderful curves and jiggled when she danced. But that wasn’t what made her remarkable. Her voice took your heart by the ears and pulled you into the emotion she wanted you to feel.

“Weird compliment, but I’ll take it.”

“Lor-Cass said you weren’t going home this year,” Emerie placed the breeches she was folding into a pile of identical wares.

“I didn’t go home last year, either,” Nesta swished the black liquid in her cup as she reviewed the ledgers. Last Solstice only served to remind Nesta how much of a stranger she was to her own family, to Feyre’s new one. She would never be able to call that debacle “going home.” This year, however, she could avoid Velaris. Being banned from the city meant Feyre no longer had the ability to force her into attending farcical family meals, no matter how pissy she was about it.

She closed the books with a sigh and placed them back into a drawer. “Numbers look good.”

Emerie moved her pile of pants over to their shelf. “Thanks for looking over them, I haven’t had anyone to check my math since dad.” Nesta nodded and pulled out the books and notepads Emerie kept hidden with her accounting ledgers.

She leafed through to the furthest marked page. “You didn’t get much further last night,” she commented.

“Ah, no time, had to process a big shipment.”

“It’s fine,” Nesta muttered. 5 words underlined. Not the most, not the least. She reviewed the best-guess at the words definition in Emerie’s notebook. Most were correct. She added pronunciation guides next to some. “Macabre means bloody, gruesome.”

“Why is there an R in it?”

“Because the gods are cruel.” She heard Emerie’s answering laugh. “You’re doing well though. We can probably move on to actually writing.” She didn’t really think it would be that hard for Emerie to learn to read and write. She ran this business - she was clearly whip-smart, just uneducated. It could easily be remedied.

“In the meantime, can you answer the orders?”

This little arrangement worked out nicely. Nesta lended her books and made her literate, meanwhile she would help out with store correspondence and would review the books. Reviewing the books was less about checking Emerie’s math - that she had a natural understanding for - and more about making sure each transaction had sufficient notes.

She took another sip from her night-black liquid. The best part of Illyria, in her mind, was this coffee thing. It didn’t grow locally, needing a warmer climate for the source plant to thrive, but it had become a staple in the tribes as a way to keep troops moving with minimal sleep. Hot and bitter, it really shouldn’t have been as pleasant to drink as it was, but she found herself unable to stop.

“When does Lo- Cass head down south?”

“He should be meeting everyone Solstice morning and be back the day after.”

“What are you going to do?”

Stare at the liquor bottles he filled with water to tease me. Drink my weight in coffee and stand outside Devlon’s house at 2 am sending waves of power over the door to fuck with him until some asshole walks by and works up the balls to ask me back to their place - or die of exposure. Whatever’s first.

“Not sure, why?”

“Would you… I don’t know… want to spend tomorrow with… me?” Emerie had approached the table, tapping her fingers with each phrase. Nesta looked her up and down. If it was anyone else, she would have thought Cassian put her up to it. But she was also alone for the holidays, and Nesta knew that was probably a much bigger deal for the Illyrian than it was for her. She had mentioned once that she didn’t have many people since her father died. Adding in that Emerie didn’t do anything she didn’t want to do... If she was asking, it was because she wanted to spend this day with Nesta.

She smiled at her friend, “Come over whenever.”

___

Dinner was hot and ready when she came in. Cassian always made sure that their meals were piping. His own way of combating the awful wet cold of Illyria. She had to wonder if part of it also had to do with keeping the fires low in the house.

Nesta kicked off her boots by the door and carried them to the fireplace. She set them down next to Cassian’s - the secret to warm feet, he’d said. Their coat rack was also by the fireplace for similar reasons. She gently felt the socks left hanging there- warm, thank the Wall. She pulled off her damp knits and left them in a pile on the floor while pulled on the fresh clothes. They went up to hang immediately after.

“Do you need to take every peg? Emerie’s store is only 5 minutes away,” Cassian called from across the house. He was standing in the kitchen with two bowls of stew.

“Five minutes flying, 25 walking,” she turned to him. “Through a foot and a half of snow.”

She pointed to the bottom of her dress and the crust of ice that had formed there. He grimaced.

“I would have picked you up if you asked.”

“Unnecessary.” She pulled the dress over her head and left it to hang on the coat rack. After months of living together, they had long overcome the initial discomfort with mild nudity. Not that she was anywhere near naked. She still had the chemise that ended at her knees, her wool sleeves, her knitted belly warmer, and a double layer of wool hose. She was more covered than either Amren or Morrigan on any given day. Finally in only dry clothes, she marched over the kitchen and took the bowl from Cassian.

Four months of living with Cassian in Illyria was… surprisingly easy. The mountains were peaceful, simple. The way of life here is more similar to the human society she grew up with than the magical speed of Velaris. Emerie was a pleasant discovery. She still wanted a drink, desperately, but the biting cold had a similar numbing effect if you stood out in it long enough. The worst part was being dragged out of bed at dawn for “training”. Though her training was less about learning to fight herself and more about standing around the training rink terrifying males while Cass tried to teach little girls to throw a punch.

Coincidently she hadn’t gotten laid in 4 months either.

“As much as I love seeing you in your underwear, you do have very nice, very warm leathers.”

“Bite me,” she said as she shoveled food in her mouth. She had made it this long avoiding putting those damn things on. She wasn’t going to cave now. No matter how much imagining the fur lining made her whimper.

He smiled down at her, making a point of flashing his teeth. “Gladly.” Whatever mischief was running through his thoughts cleaned itself up as he changed subjects. He was the other surprise. The animosity between them was turned down to a polite simmer. Oh they still bickered, and they flirted. They never said it, and God willing never would, but any edges of disgust in their banter had long been smoothed by fondness. “Az will be picking me up at 7 tomorrow. If you change your mind about coming with me, be ready to go then.”

“I won’t,” she answered, choosing not to tell him that she would be spending the day with Emerie.

Surprisingly, he didn’t push.

“Oh good, you’re up. I’m making breakfast, if you want.”

Nesta woke up in a bed that was far too clean to be her own. Her head ached, her throat was dry, and she was naked. She sat up and took in her surroundings. This room was not hers. She had less furniture and more piles of shit everywhere. She was trying to figure out how she got there when the door opened and a woman came wandering in.

Nesta recognized her as soon as she spoke and finally recalled the night prior. She was the singer for that band. They chatted each other up at the bar for hours, getting progressively drunker. By the time the bar closed they stumbled home - going to hers because it was closer. They jumped each other as soon as the door closed. It was a new experience for Nesta, being with a woman. And it was good. The singer sounded as lovely when she came as she did when she belted.

Staying for breakfast would be nice. Something real in her stomach to soak up the alcohol was very needed. And if she played it right, there was a chance for as lovely a morning as there was a night.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Nesta waited until her partner had left the room before she pulled on her dress and snuck out the window.

Lovely wasn’t what she deserved.

___

No training didn’t mean that Nesta didn’t wake up at first light. It just meant she didn’t need to get dressed. Part of the initial torture of first arrival was learning that Cass put her in an east facing room with larg windows on the walls - and refused to let her have curtains. Privacy apparently wasn’t as important as making sure she didn’t have oversleeping as an excuse.

She swore at the sun, as she did every morning, and felt around in the bed next to her. Before getting out from under the covers, she pulled on her fluffy robe. This little trick she learned back in the hut. Sleep with the clothes you’re going to wear if you want them to be warm in the morning.

She trudged out to the main room and kitchen, beginning the process of preparing breakfast. Another rule of the house, if you are up first, you cook first. Same for dinner and coming home. Lunch they were on their own. There was a housemaid when she first arrived, but… she didn’t last long. She found the tea kettle and set about making hot water while she poured oats into bowls. From their icebox - a box they just left sealed outside to let winter keep cold - she pulled out a package of cured bacon. The kettle whistled, and she used the entire batch to steep the coffee. The next round of water was for the oatmeal.

The shadows between the windows grew and darkened. Before he even stepped out, Nesta greeted him.

“I’m making coffee. Get a cup if you want some.”

“Thank you. I’ll take bacon, too, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s Cass’s money,” she answered, adding three more pieces to the griddle.

Azriel was the only one from Velaris that visited with any sort of regularity, mostly due to how closely he needed to work with Cassian. He would come up about once a week for updates or meetings or to winnow Cass somewhere. He had begun to make a habit out of arriving early to chat with Nesta. Sometimes he just came up to hang out with them. He probably only came up to spend time with Cassian, but since she was usually around, they included her.

No one else from the Inner Circle bothered to visit. Rhysand and Feyre came up once, but that… did not end well. Elain felt too guilty to come see the sister whose banishment she had consented to. Morrigan wasn’t even on the island, so it wasn’t a surprise she didn’t stop by. And Amren… Amren was keeping her vow to not speak to Nesta until she apologised to Morrigan. Something Nesta still didn’t think she needed to do.

Morrigan spent 4 nights a week at a gay bar. How the fuck was Nesta supposed to know she wasn’t out?

“Elain asked me to bring this,” he conjured a set of books and hand-knitted socks into existence, placing both onto the table while pouring himself a cup. The books were tied together with ribbons and decorated with small bows, clearly meant to be her Solstice present. The socks - well, Elain had taken up knitting sometime in the last year and had Azriel deliver a pair every time he visited.

“Why didn’t she just ask Cassian to bring it back with him?” Nesta scooped some brown sugar into her oatmeal.

The ever so slight blush on his cheeks told her what his answer did not. “She wanted to make sure you had a present for the holiday.”

“Because she knows how much I care about holidays,” and it had nothing at all to do with you leaving from her room this morning and it seeming convenient at the time. They wanted to be discrete, and Nesta accepted that - no matter how bad they were at hiding it. She poured in the hot water into her breakfast and stirred. “Any messages with that present?”

“The bacon looks done.”

“Azriel.”

He sighed. “No.”

Nesta tightened her jaw and moved the bacon from the stove to a plate, allowing him to have a piece. She wasn’t sure if she was more pissed that he didn’t have a message or that she was still hoping he would. Either way she was going to play it off. “I’m surprised they didn’t have you hock me about going, too.”

Az cocked his head. “Cass made it pretty clear you weren’t ready for that.” She snapped up at him.

“And what was his barometer for knowing if I was ready?” She sneered.

But Az only shrugged, well accustomed to playing referee for Cassian and Nesta by now. “You not wanting to go.”

Nesta was still thinking about Azriel’s answer by the time Emerie came over. She couldn’t decide if Cassian was being a presumptive ass or if he was being genuinely considerate. He had a habit of being both interchangeably. Like when he finally made his way to the kitchen, fully dressed and demanding breakfast. He added in some last minute jabs about coming back early if she got lonely as Az winnowed away with him. And even through the mocking tone, the message was clear. “If you don’t want to be alone, just say the word and I’ll come back.”

He still didn’t know she was spending today with Emerie then.

“Do you not own any decorations or do you just not like them?” she asked, looking around the room.

“What decorations?” Nesta strained in her thoughts, there was a lot of extra shit in Feyre’s living room last year…

“Solstice decorations.You know, candles, holly, garlands,” Emerie explained. It sounded like what Feyre had up - and what most of Velaris had up - but in all honesty she was not sober enough last year to make the connection that it was for the holiday and wasn’t just some seasonal nonsense. Emerie squinted at her and placed a wrapped box on the table. Presents!

Fuck. That’s right. Fae exchange presents on the Solstice.

“I honestly don’t know.”

Emerie squinted at her. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Nesta shrugged. “Humans don’t have holidays.” At most they had festivals, but they were distinctly not holidays, just an excuse to drink and dance with as many strangers as possible. The closest thing they had to a formal holiday was Treaty Day, and even that was not the intimate affair this seemed to be. She hadn’t even heard of a Solstice dinner until Feyre asked her to go last year.

“How do you not have holidays?” she asked.

“Holidays used to be very dangerous days to be human.” There were plenty of horror-stories around the suffering of human slaves on religious days. Whether they were being traded as gifts or killed as sacrifices... even if the stories were exaggerations, it led to whole-sale rejection of everything religious by human society.

“So you know nothing about solstice?” Emerie placed a hand on her hip.

“It is the longest night of the year.”

Emerie made it her mission to instruct Nesta on the finer points of an Illyrian solstice. First and foremost, every 5 years it was the last day of the Blood Rite. The theme of doing battle still continued in the other years, most tribes had hunts or tournaments for the men to mark the occasion. Women were expected to work the day to prepare for the night. The night of the Solstice was the only true peace Illyria ever saw. Solstice nights were for feasting, music, and dancing. Fighting after dark was strictly forbidden. Gifts were expected between families, friends, and especially rivals. It symbolized an acceptance that though Illyrians may compete with one another, they were still members of one army.

“Does this tribe have a tournament?” Nesta asked. Cassian hadn’t mentioned anything about it, or a feast afterwards, but he might not have thought her interested. Or ready, she thought ruefully.

“Devlon hosts a melee tournament. Puts all the entrants in the ring together and waits to see who comes out. The large feast at the end is prepared by entrant’s families,” Nesta knew she meant women in those families, “For the entrants and their families. Dad didn’t enter, so we would just watch the tournament and then spend the night at home.”

“Do you want to watch the tournament this year?”

“Yeah but you’re still in your pajamas,” Emerie laughed.

She watched by the door as Nesta dressed in her warmest clothes. Watching men fight on her day off wasn’t exactly Nesta’s idea of a good time. But Emerie wanted to go. And Cassian had tried to make the decision of whether or not she should go by not telling her about it, so that in and of itself made her want to go. Because neither were entering, and certainly neither were cooking, they wouldn’t be able to attend the feast after. But that’s just as well. A night back at the house with hot drinks and Cassian’s pantry seemed just fine to both of them.

The tournament took place in the training rings. Normally the 5 or so rings were roped off from one another, allowing different ages and skill levels to train separately. But today Devlon had taken down the separators, providing an obnoxiously large space for his melee. But it was needed. It seemed every one of Devlon’s soldiers signed up for the tournament. About 200 competitors, ranging from small boys to grown men. There were even some father-son pairs helping each other warm up in the ring.

Outside the rings, there was yet another crowd of voyeurs. Women and girls taking breaks from their preparations to watch, the merchant families - like Emerie’s, and the men too old and frail to compete anymore. Standing at the head of it all was Devlon, a poor-man’s Cassian. He caught wind of them walking up and immediately flared at the sight of Nesta before turning back to the tournament. Being a witch in Illyria had certain perks. Devlon’s apprehension being only part of it. The crowd parting for them, allowing them to stand at his side and have the best view, was another.

“Soldiers!” Devlon called as he stepped forward. All 200 men turned to him at attention, well trained by now. “You know the rules. No siphons, no weapons, no flying, no killing. You fall, you’re out. You yield, you’re out. You get knocked out of the ring, you’re out. The last men standing at sunset wins.” He raised his arm in the air, making it visible to all. He took one last look around the ring, took a breath, and dropped his arm and stepped back as he bellowed, “Lay on!”

The chaos was immediate. One of the younger kids, there without a father to hold them up, fell immediately. The rest were at each other's throats, kicking, punching, wrestling. Part of her was worried that the battle-royale would be too similar to the war. But without the clang of steel and the geysers of blood, she found this was more similar to the crowded dance halls in Velaris. Devlon, now standing next to the girls, kept his eyes on the mock-battle as he spoke. “I thought you’d be with Cassian today.”

“And miss a battle royale? Honestly Devlon, do you know me at all?” She smiled at him, relishing how he flinched at her grin. “Can’t help but notice none of the girls are competing.”

His jaw tightened. “The Solstice melee is not training. It’s tradition.”

“Now you said the same thing about the girls training, too, did you not?” Nesta had no interest in ever learning how to fight herself, and didn’t really care if girls trained or not. But there was a difference between choosing not to do something and not being allowed to do something.

“If Lord Cassian wants to insert his views here as well, he should be here to do it himself.” The harsh words were undercut by the bead of sweat racing down his cheek. He wasn’t wrong. That was part of the reason Cass was stationed up here full time. Changing the rules around women required full time intervention. In Nesta’s mind, it also required more input from the women, but that was a discussion for another time.

“Maybe next year,” Nesta yawned. She watched the battle progress. After the initial early eliminations, they had plateaued into a minor stalemate. Some alliances also became clear. Groups of friends or families fighting together, watching each other’s back, catching each other before they fell. She didn’t cheer as the crowd or Emerie did. Rather, her and Devlon seemed to be the only calm people there.

Then… something odd happened. One of the teenage boys fell suddenly. He didn’t seem to get hit particularly hard, for one. And secondly, he didn’t get back up. Both Devlon and Nesta leaned forward, looking closer. She saw it first, sniffed it out. Blood. The boy had been hit in the side and was bleeding from the wound.

“Devlon,” she said very carefully.

“I know, I didn’t see who did it.”

“We need to get him out.”

“His friends will get him out.”

She held her breath, watching. No one came. She hadn’t been watching him particularly, but she didn’t remember him teaming up like the others. The way they walked around him… “He doesn’t have friends,” she snarled. Even Emerie gulped as Nesta’s anger stirred the well of her power. Cass told her stories. Back when the shakes and cold sweats were unbearable, he stayed up with her and told stories, trying to distract her through it. Trading one dark truth for another. She told him about watching her mother die, he told her that he was alone for years until Rhys. A bastard that was left to fend for himself, potentially to die if he wasn’t strong enough. From the way they walked over this kid, he was the same. She needed to get him out of there. He was bleeding out and no one was doing a damn thing about it.

“We cannot interfere with the melee,” Devlon said, “it’s against the rules.”

“So is weapons, but someone clearly has a knife,” she spat. Devlon didn’t say anything to that. He just kept scanning the make-shift battlefield, searching. “There!” he shouted, and his green siphon flashed. Another teenager was plucked into the air by his wings. He kicked and thrashed, a small knife in his fist. Devlon pulled the kid to him, releasing his magic’s grip and decking as asshole as he got in range. The boy went down with just that one hit.

But the first boy was still out there. He was still bleeding out. Alone in a crowd. He was going to die. He was going to die in this little mock battle where killing was strictly forbidden. Was this why Cassian didn’t tell her about it? Did he have holidays like this? Did older boys gang up on him and try to kill him without anyone noticing? Was he left alone to bleed on his own?

“Nesta!”

Emerie’s voice was farther away than it should have been, and muffled by a crowd of idiots fighting with one another. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got here, but Nesta was standing over the fallen boy. As they registered her presence, one by one the soldiers stopped. “The witch.” “It’s the witch.” “Why is the witch here?” She ignored them all, kneeling down to the injured. He was pale and grimacing, having lost a lot of blood - still losing it, actually. The knife had gotten him just below the ribs, catching who knows which organs. Without another word she picked him up, allowing his head to rest against his shoulder and his body to rest on her torso.

She turned back to Emerie and Devlon, one watching with concern, the other pissed as hell. She stepped towards them, slowly, carefully. She didn’t want to jostle the kid’s injuries more than necessary. No one came near her as she walked out of the ring. At first she thought it was the same as the audience, that they were simply afraid of the witch. But a glance around gave her a different answer.

Her power extended around her in a sphere, creating barriers of ethereal flowing silver. The grass around her withered and died, and no man here wanted to see what would happen if they touched the walls of silver flames. When she got to the edge of the ring, the rope touched her power and rotted to nothing. She didn’t know how this boy still lived in her arms, but he was still breathing- barely. She spoke to both Devlon and Emerie.

“He needs a healer.”

“I’ll find Marta and have her meet you at the house.”

Nesta nodded to her friend and turned to walk the familiar path to Cassian’s house, her power dying down as she crossed the threshold.

Marta arrived at the same time she did. They set the kid down on the kitchen table as the old woman got to work. The boy did get stabbed, but only in the liver. It took longer than Nesta would have thought, certainly longer than the battlefield-healing she remembered from the war, but Marta was able to stabilize him and stitch him up. She left them with instructions to make sure the boy didn’t get infected or pop a stitch in the night.

“Not how you planned to spend the Solstice, I’m guessing?” Nesta asked.

Emerie tilted her head, “No but seeing every warrior in the village piss himself is worth it.” She slumped down on the couch. “We have a moment, want to open your present?” she gestured to the box on the table.

“Y-yeah, just let me grab yours.” Nesta ran back to her room. She grabbed the stack of books Elain bought her, still wrapped from this morning. Definitely a faux paus, but she would never know.

Nesta came back out with the present and set it in front of Emerie. “Happy Solstice.” The look of awe and excitement was worth it. As Emerie began to untie the books, Nesta began to unwrap her present. Under the paper was a long, thin box. She unlidded it to find a set of leather and wood hair pins - Illyrian style hair pins, made to not get cold in winter.

“Thank you,” she said, still admiring the etching on the leather thong.

“I’d thank you but, I think mine goes to Elain.”

“What?” Nesta whipped her head up to see the first book open on the table and Emerie holding a hand written note. She was clearly reading it but let Nesta snatch it from her anyway.

“So should I let you borrow the books or-”

“Shush.” Emerie laughed and paged through the first novel as Nesta read the note.

Dear Nesta,

I know you are still upset with me, and with Feyre, for sending you away. And you are right to be upset. You were there for me, after the Cauldron and after Grayson. You held our family together after Feyre left. And when you needed us, needed me, I didn’t know how to help.

I don’t know if it is the power or just my own knowledge of you, but I knew there was nothing I could do. I knew that if I tried to help, I would only fail. And that is not an excuse. Fear of failure does not make not trying ok, but it is what I did. And I am sorry.

I know putting this in a letter hidden in a book is still the coward’s way, but I don’t think I could face you if I didn’t apologize first. I hope to have Azriel take me for a visit after the Solstice if you would have me.

Your sister,

Elain

___

They stayed up most of the night, playing cards, reading, and watching over the boy. Nesta had planned to stay up the full night, but using her power that day and waking up at 6 am had taken its toll. She found herself drowsing into her cards. Around 3am, Emerie sent Nesta to bed, agreeing to stay up and keep watch. Nesta’s head barely hit the pillow before she was out.

She woke in darkness. Not odd for her. Waking up in the middle night was fairly common. But when she looked to her window, she saw that it was not night. There was sunlight shining behind the makeshift curtain someone had thrown over her window. She pushed herself up. Who?

“You’re up.”

She turned her attention to the chair on the other side of her bed. Cassian sat there, watching over her with an indecipherable expression. She sat up.

“When did you get home?”

He ran his fingers through his hair. It was down and knotted, unusual for him. There were bags under his eyes. “Last night, before dawn. Az brought me back,” he brought his hands together and looked at her. “Emerie told me what happened. You lost control again.”

“How’s the boy?”

“Petros is fine. I moved him to my room to sleep off the rest of the potion the healer gave him.”

“That’s good.”

“No, you couldn’t,” his hands gently reached out and lifted her face to look at him. “Why couldn’t you?”

Cassian moved to the bed, sitting next to Nesta. “You lost control for him.”

“I-I couldn’t just let him bleed out,” she explained, staring at a spot on the bedspread.

Because he reminded me of you. She didn’t know if she said the words out loud or not. But Cassian’s answering kiss was so soft, so gentle, so sweet, she didn’t care. She responded to his kiss in kind, her hand cupping his face, finally feeling those perfectly chiselled cheekbones. His tongue passed over her lower lip and she opened for him, inviting him deeper. She met his tongue with her own and wrapped her hands around the back of his head, pulling him closer. He grinned through the kiss, gently placed his hand on her shoulders, and pushed her back down on the bed.

It was the first time Nesta stayed for breakfast after.

___________

Tagging potential readers:

@perseusannabeth

#secret snowflake #Nesta Archeron #Nessian #Cassian #post Acowar #post acofas #elain archeron #emerie #Nesta and Emerie will be besties if it kills me #Nesta and Cassian adopt that kid.#Potato-burp is ask-able tumblr #so that one is in the exchange.#but my writing goes here so here we are #never posted fic directly to tumblr before.#weird

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madpanda75 · 4 years ago

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“Taking Chances Part 9: Love, Tequila, and Ice Cream”

And we’re back!!!!! So to give you a brief recap, Rafael and the reader left the Carisi house in a huff after the reader gave Sonny “the slap heard around the world.” Find out what happens next in this latest chapter. Words are said, sexy times happen. It’s fluffy, smutty fun....for now 😉💕

NSFW: Sex by the fireplace! Can ya’ dig it??? 😜💥🔥

Rafael adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as he drove across the Verrazano Bridge. Occasionally he would glance over at you sitting in the passenger seat with your head down and your hands gently folded in your lap.

Rafael cleared his throat. “So should we go to my place or yours?”

You grunted out a monotone syllable in response.

“Ok, your place it is,” he said with a sigh, turning on the blinker and making a right turn towards your apartment.

Once back at your place, you immediately went to the living room and started a fire. Your apartment may have been a shoebox, but the wood burning fireplace was a definite perk. When you first moved in, the notion of a struggling artist pouring her heart and soul onto the canvas beside a roaring fire seemed romantic and bohemian.

While you stroked the flames to life, Rafael stood there with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Cold night, huh?” He inwardly cringed at having been reduced to commenting on the weather.

“Mmhmm,” you replied.

“Two syllables. That’s progress,” he thought. Maybe by the end of the night, you would utter an actual word. After several minutes of deafening silence, he made yet another feeble attempt at conversation. “Your mom is a wonderful cook.”

“Hmmm,” you grunted.

“That’s it. I can’t take it anymore.” Rafael crouched down next to you and took your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were still shiny with tears, your nose bright red.

It was the first time since leaving your parents’ house that you had looked at him or even acknowledged his presence apart from the occasional mumble. “I know this afternoon was a complete disaster, but I can’t take this anymore. Please say something. Anything.”

Your bottom lip quivered before blurting out, “He cheated on me!” As soon as the words escaped your lips, you crumbled into a heap on the floor, sobbing.

Rafael gathered you into his arms, running his hands through your hair, rocking back and forth. You clung to him, wetting his brand new Tom Ford dress shirt. But neither of you could care less. After all, he knew what it was like to be betrayed. Once you calmed down, he asked, “So tequila or ice cream?”

“Both,” you replied with a hiccup and a very loud unladylike sniffle.

Rafael got up and walked over to your kitchen to grab the bottle of Tequila Ocho Reposado you had hidden in your cupboard behind the cheap stuff before rummaging in your freezer for the pint of Haagen-Dazs’ Chocolate Chocolate Chip. He smiled when he saw the post-it note you had left on the frozen dessert.

“This ice cream is the personal property of Y/N Carisi. DO NOT TOUCH OR PREPARE TO MEET A VIOLENT SUDDEN DEATH!”

He handed you a spoon and a glass. “Why do you have a death threat on your ice cream?”

“Sometimes Teresa or Gina crash here after partying or a bad date. They’re notorious for stealing my secret stash of junk food.” You pulled the cork out of the tequila bottle with your teeth and drank straight from the bottle.

Several smooth swigs of alcohol and an unfortunate brain freeze later, you and Rafael sat in front of the fire and swapped war stories. Although he had briefly mentioned being cheated on by his childhood ex-girlfriend, Yelina; tonight he shared more with you than he ever had with anyone. How heartbroken he was. The humiliation. How after such a betrayal he wondered if he ever could trust someone ever again.

Likewise, you felt safe enough to stop skirting around the ex situation and finally tell the truth about Theo. “We were supposed to go to some bakery in Staten Island to sample cakes for our wedding, but Theo told me he wasn’t feeling well and asked if we could reschedule. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.” You snorted a laugh as you scraped the last bit of ice cream out of the container. “How stupid was I?”

“Hey, don’t talk about my girlfriend that way.” Rafael wiped away a spot of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream on the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Later on that day, I came home with some ribollita and tea.”

“Ribollita?”

“It’s an Italian bread and vegetable soup. My mom would make it for us whenever we’re sick or sad,” you explained.

“When I walked inside, I saw a trail of clothes and heard a girl’s giggle coming from down the hall. I followed the sound, opened the bedroom door, and saw him with Lacey. The 21 year old bimbo who worked at the dry cleaners down the street,” you said in such a bitter tone that Rafael could feel the acerbic bite in his bones. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.

“It had been going on for months. Apparently, she had been doing way more than spot treatments and pressing his pants. I dumped the soup on his 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, threw the ring at his forehead, and left. He never followed me. He never fought for us.” You shook your head and took another shot of tequila when your phone began to buzz and dance across the floor. It was your brother. Since leaving your parents’ house he had called ten times-- a new record for him.

Rafael watched as you shut off your phone and tossed it over to the couch. While Sonny was not his favorite person by any means, he knew how important your brother was to you. The last thing he wanted out of this relationship was to come between you and your family. Not only did he firmly believe they would despise him for it, but above all else he had a gnawing fear that you would resent him for driving that wedge. “You know, you’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”

You scoffed, “I never want to speak to Sonny again. I hate him.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

You rolled your eyes. As usual Rafael was right, but that didn’t mean you had to give in and be the first person to offer an olive branch. Sonny was a colossal jerk and he needed to learn a lesson.

“He’s just looking out for you,” Rafael continued. “In his own sick and twisted way.”

You arched a brow at your boyfriend. “So how much did you overhear when Sonny and I were in the kitchen?”

Rafael shrugged and averted his gaze, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the pattern on your rug. “Not much. Snippets really.”

“So pretty much all of it?”

“Pretty much,” he confirmed. “Did...did you ever love him?”

There was a pregnant pause before you responded. Rafael stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker, unable to face you. Of course he already knew the answer was yes. You were a hopeless romantic. But the idea of you loving another man, planning a future with them, made his stomach knot up.

“I thought I did once. But it was different. I can see that now.”

Rafael nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the ice cream carton and bottle of tequila to take back into the kitchen. “How so?”

“Theo and I grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts. The only reason we got engaged is because that’s what people expected of us. It was the next step. But looking back, I realized I was complacent and complacency does not equal love.”

You glanced over at a picture on the coffee table of you and Rafael. You had taken it one lazy Sunday morning in bed, Rafael was kissing your cheek, his bed head sticking out in all directions while you were laughing hysterically. What the picture didn’t capture was that he was tickling that one spot right under your ribcage. You smiled fondly at that happy moment frozen in time. “Love should be scary. It’s taking chances. It’s thrilling. I never felt that with Theo. I feel all those things when I’m with you. I love you.”

Rafael walked back into the living room, completely stunned by your declaration. “What did you say?”

“I love you?” you said with a shrug, feeling a wave of nerves. Perhaps you had jumped the gun.

Rafael plopped down on the rug beside you. He had realized early on in the relationship that he loved you, but always chalked it up to indigestion and brushed his feelings aside. He never believed you would reciprocate so soon. “Are you sure?” He turned towards you and cupped your face. “This isn’t just the tequila and ice cream talking. You’re not drunk or on a raging sugar high?”

You giggled and mimicked his movements, cupping his cheeks. “I promise I am not under any influence of any kind. I love you, Rafael Barba. With every fiber of my being, I love you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek which he brushed away. “I love you too.” He leaned forward and captured your lips with a kiss. Parting your mouth with his tongue, his touch was gentle yet commanding. Your toes were beginning to curl.

A heat crept up your body and you started to undo the top few buttons of your dress. Out of the corner of his eye, Rafael spied a flash of emerald green against your skin and stopped his ministrations.

“What’s the matter?” you asked out of breath.

He ignored your question and tugged your dress aside a little more, revealing the silk emerald green corset. The corset that you had taunted him with when you invited him to lunch on Sunday. The corset that he had envisioned ripping to shreds with his teeth.

You giggled and blushed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “With all the drama, I forgot I had this on.”

“You mean...you wore this to church?”

You slowly nodded your head. “And to my parents’ house.”

Rafael was already rock hard, but now he was on the brink of coming in his pants at the mere thought of you wearing this sinful lingerie underneath your demure dress all day-- piously praying at St. Thomas; helping your mother with her marinara sauce in the kitchen. “Stand up so I can see you better,” he gruffly commanded.

You obeyed and slowly went back to the task of removing your dress. “Stop,” he said and replaced your hands with his. “Let me.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest at his request. A tiny whimper escaped your throat as he peeled your dress off. Rafael’s hands were trembling with each button. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked before, but this time felt different. He was nervous. Locking eyes with you, he could see you were nervous too.

Once your clothes were shed, he drank you in from head to toe--from how that particular shade of green complimented your skin, to your hard nipples poking through the silk and lace, all the way down to the black thigh high stockings connected to your garters. “Eres perfecta,” he whispered, his eyes half-hooded with lust as he began to take off his clothes.

You grabbed his hands, effectively stopping him. “Allow me.” You arched your brow and began shedding layer after layer. You took your time, running your hands over his exposed flesh, feeling his firm muscles beneath your palms.

Completely lost in the sensation of your fingertips against his skin, the clanging of his belt against the floor brought Rafael back to reality. His boxer briefs were the last to go. With a flirty snap of the elastic, you rid him of his underwear, his hardened cock springing free. He toed out of his socks and stepped towards you, nudging his clothes out of the way.

You stared at each other for a long moment-- your chests heaving, bodies pulsating. The tension between you both was electric. Not wanting to wait another second, you pressed yourself against Rafael, kissing him hard, nibbling on his bottom lip. He returned the kiss with vigor. You could feel his throbbing erection weeping onto your inner thigh, brushing against your lace-covered pussy.

In awe of this beautiful man in your arms, you began to work your way down his body, laying wet wanton kisses across his skin. “Oh Y/N, please,” he whimpered. Hearing him beg, you raked your teeth against his nipple, a particular sensitive spot for Rafael. He gasped in response.

You smirked, reveling in the fact that you had reduced him to a begging, quivering mess. Kneeling before him, you took his cock in your hand and teasingly flicked your tongue against his slit.

Rafael groaned at the sight of you looking up at him with big innocent eyes and a wide welcoming mouth. From this angle, he could see the way your garters rested on the luscious curve of your ass.

You wrapped your lips around him, swirling around his crown as if you were sucking a lollipop, tracing every vein.

Rafael threw his head back and groaned, “Ay Dios mío.”

His cock felt hot and heavy in your mouth, you relaxed your throat as you slowly swallowed him down, pushing his head past your tight ring of muscle. Your nose was tickled by his trimmed pubic hair. He held your head there for a moment, relishing in the sensation.

You smacked his ass and grabbed a handful of his flesh before pulling off him with a pop. “Fuck my mouth, mi amor,” you purred while stroking his length. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it.”

He wrapped his hand around your long locks and fed you his cock. “You naughty little girl,” he growled before thrusting. “Going to put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned. Tears were running down your cheeks as you gagged around him, taking everything he had to give. You loved when Rafael got rough. You craved it. Giving him pleasure brought you pleasure.

One of your hands reached up to massage his balls while the other reached in between his legs, pressing down on that strip of skin between his cock and his ass. That was all it took for Rafael to come undone. His cock swelled and released. His warm seed splashing against your tongue. Rafael came so hard, he was practically bent in half, clutching the mantle, grunting over and over again. You sucked him dry, not stopping until he gently pulled you off his sensitive cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled. “You have a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked, wiping away some of your smudged lipstick.

“I nearly had a heart attack just now, what do you think?” He had an evil glint in his eye and took several steps towards causing you to scoot back. “I think I need to repay the favor. Don’t you?”

“Only if you insist.” You laid back down on the floor in your most seductive pose.

Rafael knelt down. “Oh believe me”-- he grabbed your legs and pulled you towards him causing you to squeal in surprise--“I insist.”

He ran his hands across your body, pressing against your form through the silk. Wanting to repay you for your earlier torment, Rafael took his time disrobing you--tugging at the laces of your corset, unsnapping your garters, peeling your stockings off. There wasn’t an inch of skin left unattended from the crown of your head down to the arches of your feet.

You couldn’t catch your breath. “Payback is a bitch,” you thought as he sucked a mark onto your right hip. Rafael saved your thong for last, opting to tear it off you with his teeth.

He parted your folds, revealing your glistening pink pearl, stroking your soft, wet, sex. You spread your legs wider, feeling his hot breath on your pussy, arching your hips toward him. He clucked in disapproval. “So impatient.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

Unable to resist any longer (after all, he was only human), he began to worship your core. Offering his tongue as a prayer as he swirled around your lower lips and traced patterns on your clit.

You grinded against him. “More,” you pleaded.

With a loud squelch, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. “You have such a perfect little pussy. I love it so much”--he playfully bit down on your inner thighs-- “and it’s all mine. Isn’t it?” With an intense, heated stare, he spit on your pussy. The sensation of his saliva on your swollen clit caused you to jump.

“Yes, it’s yours,” you wailed.

“That’s right,” he cooed while slowly making concentric circles on your bundle of nerves, watching how his spit mingled with your dripping juices. “And you’re gonna come all over my face, aren’t you?”

You arched your back and gasped. “Oh God, yes! Yes!

“Shhh, that’s my good girl,” he said with a smirk before devouring you once more. Your moans of “More” and “Don’t stop” spurred him on.

With his mouth wrapped around your clit, he penetrated you with his fingers, stroking that spot deep within you that drove you insane. One crook of his finger had you coming with a shriek.

Feeling your core pulse against his tongue as he fucked you through your orgasm unleashed something savage within him. He buried his face against you, groaning, his lips and chin completely coated in your arousal. Already hard from eating you out, he rutted against the rug, desperate for some relief.

His tongue was relentless while he fucked you with his fingers until he ripped another orgasm from you. By the third time you had come, you melted onto the floor. And yet you wanted more. With Rafael, it was never enough.

You pushed him off you and straddled him, kissing him with such fierce passion he toppled back to the floor. “I want to show you how much I love your cock.” You nuzzled your nose with his before sitting up and dragging your center against his length. Hovering over his cock for a moment, you lowered yourself onto him.

Rafael grabbed your hips to keep you in place as he rotated his pelvis, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock. Your whole body shuddered. Digging your nails into his chest, you began to rock against him.

Rafael groaned, watching you fuck him. “Look down, querida. Look at how fucking sexy you look riding me.”

You followed his gaze down to where you were being impaled by him. Biting back a whimper, you experimentally flexed your muscles, squeezing against his cock. Rafael choked out a sob which only encouraged you to speed up your movements.

You lifted almost completely off him before slamming back down.

Flames licked at your flesh as you continued to bounce on his cock. Rivulets of sweat dripped off of you, one drop running down your chest. Rafael sat up and caught it with his tongue, holding you close as he latched on to your nipple, suckling against the hardened bud before repeating his actions on your other breast.

Your bodies worked in tandem, pushing and pulling. You were reduced to a wild animal, clawing at Rafael. Red streaks covered his sweaty skin. He loved it, wanting nothing more than to be claimed by you, his own ethereal goddess.

“Rafael!” you cried out in a hoarse voice. He cut you off with a searing kiss.

“I love you,” he moaned against your lips.

“I love you too.” Tears began to run down your cheeks. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears, pressure mounting. You were too far gone by this point. Can you die from pleasure? Oh...but what a way to go.

He pulled back, forcing you to lock eyes with him. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slack, panting and whimpering with every thrust. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. This was beyond the physical. Your souls were melding, transforming one another.

You simultaneously erupted, swallowing each other’s moans and grunts, stroking each other through your respective releases. When you finally floated back down to earth, you collapsed on the floor, your bodies still connected.

“Holy shit,” you sighed.

“I know,” Rafael panted.

“If I knew saying ‘I love you’ would lead to mind blowing sex, I would’ve said it a whole lot earlier,” you teased.

“I knew you were only after me for my body.” Rafael let out a breathless laugh and tickled that one spot on your side. Exhausted and not in any hurry to move, you both laid there as the fire weakened until only a few dull embers glowed.

You nestled against his chest, having never felt so happy. As cheesy and cliché as it sounded, you wish you could stay that way forever. That is until the events from earlier in the day came floating back into your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do with your family, especially Sonny.

But that wasn’t a question for tonight. Right now you were perfectly content being wrapped up in your own little world. Just you and Rafael.

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tirednerd2012 · 3 years ago

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I have an idea if you want to write something REALLY angsty. Suppose Ian is taken by someone who has knowledge of potions? But their knowledge is on the extreme side, and they believe that because Ian is a wizard, his body has magical properties, so they want to experiment. It starts off small: a lock of hair, a sample of blood, a nail clipping, etc. But it gets worse, and their goal is to drain and dismember him so they can use his body parts for potions in the future.

Guys, this has some serious torture in it. Lots of mentions of blood and has some heavy parts. Please don't hate me because Ian goes through absolute hell in this. Read with caution if you must.

Ian felt like there was something off with his new math teacher. The guy was always studying him, asking him questions and making sure Ian knew every answer. Maybe he wouldn't think much of it if he did it with the other students, but his attention always seemed to be on Ian. It made him insanely uncomfortable.

He mentioned it to Barley and his brother said to be cautious about it, but as long as he didn't harm Ian, it should be okay. He didn't sound so confident about it, but Ian decided to let it go.

"Ian, can you see me after school? I need to talk to you about your test," Mr. Clarke told him.

"Uh, sure, is everything okay?" he asked.

"We'll talk about it after school. Have fun at lunch," Mr. Clarke sent him off.

Ian walked out of the classroom feeling sick. He thought about texting Barley, but decided against it. No need to worry him. He told him that he would be late because he had to meet with a teacher and Barley responded that was fine, he had to pick up some books at the library for his homework anyway.

He thought again, but knew Barley would try something and get them both into trouble. Besides, it would only be 10 minutes alone with the guy, what could go wrong?

Apparently a lot.

Ian went there after school and his teacher smiled at him.

"Ian! Good, don't worry, this won't take too long. You actually did incredible on your test," Mr. Clarke said. "It seems like your magic isn't the only thing special about you."

"Uh, thanks? So, why did you want me here?" Ian asked. He knew his friends had gotten hundreds on the test, so it wasn't like he was the only one who did well.

"Oh, I needed an excuse of course," Mr. Clarke responded.

"What do you- dude, what's your deal?" Ian snapped. He tried to make his way out, but Mr. Clarke grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the wall. Ian fell and Clarke tied his arms together.

"Let-!" he tried to scream, but Clarke put a gag in his mouth.

"You see, Ian, a wizard's body has magical properties. Your blood is rare, but so is everything about you. And I can use it. I just have to get you back to my lab," he said. Ian tried to struggle, but Clarke was stronger than he looked. He picked up Ian's phone out of his pocket and dropped it on the ground. Then he brought something out of his pocket and brought it to Ian's face. "When you wake up, you'll be part of my greatest experiment."

Everything faded as his body felt limp.

When he woke up, he was strapped to a metal bed. Beside him was a table of sharp, steel tools. He was in his underwear and surrounded by IV bags and needles. He tried to get up, but the straps held him in place.

"Struggle all you want, kid, you're not going anywhere," Mr. Clarke's voice rang. Ian looked over and saw his math teacher beside him with a smile.

"Who the hell are you!?" he demanded. "Let me go!"

"I'm just... someone who knows a lot about potions. Been using them by entire life, actually. My father brewed them and taught me everything he knew," he explained as he got a needle ready. "There are powerful potions that can be made from a wizard, but they went extinct, until you, of course. Your father kept himself hidden, and you should have advised you to do the same."

"Look, man, my step dad is a cop and my mom and brother are crazy, they'll find me and make you sorry," Ian warned.

"There's not going to be anything left of you once I'm finished."

His voice was cold and taunting. He brought the needle up to Ian and despite how hard he struggled, he filled several tubes with his blood. He puts it on the table and then cuts some of Ian's hair. Then he took everything he collected and went to a table on the other side of the room.

Ian tried screaming bloody murder, but the man seemed unaffected.

"Ian, you are in a soundproof room hidden away in my basement. Scream and cry all you want. You're going to scream, but no one will hear you. No one is coming to save you."

"What are you going to do to me?" Ian asked. His throat tightened and he was shaking. He wasn't sure if it was from fear or the cold.

"I'm going to collect what I need until there's nothing left. The real treat awaits when I go for your heart, but we have plenty of time. It's going to be painful as hell for you. I would offer something to ease it, but I can't have anything in your system that could ruin the potions."

"You're going to go for my heart?" Ian asked, tears threatening to spill as he continued to struggle. He felt his wrists starting to rub raw under the thick, leather, but he didn't care.

"Yes, and unfortunately for you, I'm going to have to cut it out of you while you're alive. Keeps it fresh," he answered and sent Ian a smile that told him he wasn't really sorry about that detail.

"My family will find me. My brother knows I met with you after school and he's not going to stop until he finds me," Ian warned. "Barley may seem like a nice guy, but whatever you do to me is nothing compared to what he's going to do to you."

"Really? Well, I don't see him here," he said. Ian watched him pour his blood into the bowl and then think to himself for a moment. "Maybe I need something else."

He walked over and grabbed a pair of pliers and ripped one of Ian's fingernails off. The Lightfoot cried out and the man smiled, towering over him.

"I'm really going to enjoy our couple of weeks together," he said. He drew more blood, until Ian's left arm stopped giving him. "We have time, Ian, don't worry. I won't kill you yet."

Ian would rather have died than continued to go through this hell.

Three days. Ian had been missing for three days now. Barley was about to lose his salvation. He destroyed that entire school looking and cussed everyone out when there was no Mr. Clarke the creepy math teacher.

He never should have brushed it off. They found Ian's cellphone in the math room, but apparently Mr. Clarke didn't work for the school, even though multiple students and even some teachers say he had been there. He even broke into the security office and turned off all the cameras.

His mom cried with him. He held her and promised her they would find him. He wouldn't stop or give up. Even Corey was flying around searching. Colt had multiple search parties and warrants, but everything came up empty handed.

"Did you hear about Ian? Still missing," he heard someone at the gas station say. They hadn't seen him come in.

"Honestly, do they think he's still alive?" another girl asked, but then hushed as Barley walked past to the register. He filled up his van and went back driving. He drove until it was 3 in the morning, answering all of his mom's calls.

Colt pulled up beside him as he stopped the van and cried. Now it was 4 days.

"Barley, go home. You need rest."

"I can't sleep."

"I'll continue the search," his step father promised.

"Colt, you don't get it. I can't sleep without seeing him, alone and by himself," Barley snapped. "I can't find him anywhere. He's just gone and he needs me and he told me he got these weird feelings from this teacher and I ignored it. He warned me about this and I ignored it!"

"Barley, stop!" Colt snapped, opening the car door and Barley collapsed to the ground. He was exhausted. He couldn't keep doing this. He needed to find Ian. "This is not your fault, do you understand me?"

"But-."

"No buts! This is not on you. You can't burden yourself with that. You listen to me and you listen good, we are going to find him," Colt cut in. Barley had never heard him this serious before. "You're right. Ian does need you. But he needs you at your best, not when you're too tired to actually think and help find him. Go home and sleep. I will keep the search going and if I find out anything, you and your mother will be the first people I tell."

"I just want him back, Colt," Barley said, trying to stop his tears.

"I know and we're going to get him back. He'll be home soon."

Ian didn't know if he could keep going. Clarke cut the tip of his ear and then laughed at Ian's pain. He didn't even know how long he had been here. He tried to hold on to hope, but he didn't think it was going to help.

"You know, maybe that brother you talked so highly about is glad you're gone. Sounds like you cause him nothing but trouble."

Ian wanted to tell him that he was full of shit. He didn't want to believe it, but he did. Barley wasn't here. Was he looking? Ian wanted to say yes, but the pain was all he could focus on.

Clarke was giving him just enough to keep him alive. Everything he needed was in the IV.

"This one is going to hurt, Ian," he warned. He had a butcher knife in his hands and Ian still tried to struggle to no avail. He placed a towel down and then held Ian's wrist.

"What are you doing? Stop! Stop!" Ian begged, but he knew nothing would come of it. He heard a crunch and his hand felt like it was on fire. He screamed and Clarke stopped the bleeding. He looked up and saw his left thumb was gone.

Ian cried and he wanted Barley there. He felt like a small child crying out for his brother in the middle of the night again, but Barley wasn't coming this time. His brother had no idea where he was.

He was going to die.

After two more days and more searching, Barley slept, passed out from exhaustion to the point where he couldn't go on anymore, but he only saw a house. He was able to walk in it and he felt drawn to the basement. He followed his instincts and was led downstairs to a secret door. He opened it and saw Ian, strapped to a metal table. A lunatic was hovered over him with a butcher knife and cut his left thumb off.

Ian screamed in pain and Barley screamed in horror. The man wrapped Ian's hand and then walked over to the table and threw it into some kind of concoction. Barley went to Ian's side to see a sight he never wanted to. Ian, covered in cuts, with an IV in his hand. He had the tip of his right ear missing and he was sobbing in pain over his latest injury.

"I can't wait to cut your heart out, Ian. Once I complete that potion, I will be powerful. I will have your abilities, plus some strengths that you haven't had enough time to master," the man said. Barley would kill him. And the last few moments of his life would be hell.

"Barley," Ian cried.

"I'm here, Ian, I'm here," Barley said, but his little brother couldn't hear him.

"Keep crying for him, he's not coming, Ian," the man said. Ian continued to cry to himself, mumbling Barley's name until he passed out.

Barley was pulled out of the dream and woke with a jump. He looked around and grabbed his keys. He knew where Ian was. He ran out of his room and saw his mom asleep on the couch. Tears stained her cheeks.

"I'll be back, Mom," he promised, softly. "I'll be back with Ian."

He drove as fast as he could. The house from his dream was just a block over and Barley hated himself more. Ian was right there the whole time, but he had no idea. Barley stopped the car and busted the door open. He listened. Nothing.

He looked around the house, but no one was there. Then he remembered the basement. He held his sword in his hand as he made his way down. Sure enough, he found the door in the back. He busted it open and saw the man from his dreams and Ian on the table.

"Barley!" Ian cried out in relief. His brother looked worse than he did in Barley's nightmare. Barley could see his ribs. Ian was covered in bruises and cuts and so much more that Barley felt like he could be sick.

He looked at the man and six days of worry, anger, resentment, stress and heartbreak unleashed itself.

"I'm going to fucking kill you for this," Barley snapped. He didn't even recognize his own voice. The man seemed terrified, which he should have been. He tried to get away, but Barley gripped his sword and pierced the guy's chest. "Not so fucking tough when someone's strapped to a damn table, huh?"

"Barley," Ian called and they locked eyes. He took out his sword, now covered in blood, and walked over and undid all the straps. Before he could do anything else, Ian threw his arms around Barley's neck and sobbed.

"Ian, it's alright. I'm here now. You're safe. I'm here. You're safe. He can't hurt you," Barley promised, wrapping his arms around Ian as well. They both cried in each other's arms. Finally, Barley collected himself and pulled away from Ian, but kept one arm around him as he called Colt.

"Barley? I still don't-."

"I found him. He needs an ambulance. 165 Mushroom Street."

"But that's right-."

"Right down the black, I know. Long story. But, um, Colt, I think I killed the guy who took him," Barley said, looking over at the body of the bastard who hurt Ian. Ian still hadn't let go of him and Barley didn't complain. He wanted to rip that IV out of his arm, but he didn't want to make it worse. He needed the paramedics.

"It's alright, I'm on my way. You did it in defense. No one's going to blame you for that bastard's death," Colt said, trying to sooth him. But Barley was surprisingly calm. He was in a stranger's house. He just fucking killed a guy. But Ian was back. He was right in his arms. Barley could feel his heartbeat and the way Ian hung on to him.

"Get here soon. He has an IV in his arm and needs medical attention," he said, but they hung up the phone on each other. He held on to Ian like he was his lifeline.

"You found me," Ian said.

"Never stopped looking for you. I-I think you actually found me somehow," Barley said and explained his dream.

"I remember that. Barley that was days ago, but I wanted you at that moment maybe I did a magic thing. Did you really not sleep for two days?"

"Don't worry about that," Barley responded.

The paramedics arrive and soon enough they were on their way to the hospital. Ian was admitted. His mom ran in and hugged Barley while they waited.

"Barley! Oh my gosh, my boys!" she cried as she got to him.

"Mom, they're treating him now. He's going to be okay, though."

"How did you find him?" she asked and Barley explained the dream and then leaving immediately. She shook his head and cried again as she held onto him.

"He's going to be alright, that's all that matters," Barley responded.

A few hours later, they were able to see Ian. He had been bandaged up and connected to several tubes and IVs, but he was alive. He was there and alive. They spent several hours with him, but eventually their mom allowed Barley to stay the night with him.

"Barley, can you please get some sleep?" Ian asked. They were both exhausted, but Barley was afraid if he closed his eyes, he would wake up and Ian would be gone all over again.

"You need sleep," Barley responded.

"So do you," Ian said. He reached out and put his hand on Barley's arm. He looked at his older brother with dark circles under his eyes and he felt like he could cry all over again. "Come on, please. For me?"

"Are you seriously worried about me right now?"

"You haven't stopped shaking since you found me and you-we both saw what you did."

"I had to be sure he wouldn't hurt you again."

"And trust me, I get it. I would have done the same, but we have to keep ourselves together right now. There are going to be more threats. We need rest now."

He hated the idea of more threats coming after his little brother, but he knew that it was true. He nodded and adjusted in the chair right beside Ian. They both fell asleep, but apparently when their mom came to check on them in the morning, Barley had his arm out over Ian, as if to protect him from anything that came near his brother and Ian had his hand on the arm.

#barley onward #barley lightfoot #ian lightfoot #ian onward #onward #onward pixar #whih

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