#no no I can’t make another AU you can’t do this to meeee | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kuiinncedes · 3 years ago

Text

relight that spark

jatp au - chapter 1 - part 2/15? - 9,385 words

the prologue/part 1 (tumblr link) if you missed it!! (ao3 link) :D

so obviously this is pretty slowly updating already and it probably willll get worse 🤪 i might post the next part in like a week tho, it's not a full "episode" chapter and i already have it fully written and i'm pretty happy with it 😗✌️

this chapter is pretty long and i apologize for that bc i know i get annoyed when i have to stop in the middle of a long chapter and then my phone like loses my spot or whatever lakdshgjfs but idk how else to do it so .. just have my apology lol sorryyy <3 the next "episode" chapter is looking to be longer tho sdlkhglsj

LASTLY BUT NOT LEASTLY A HUGE MASSIVE FUCKING THANK YOU TO MEG @neversatisfiedwithlife FOR BETA READING THIS FOR MEEEE AND BEING SO SUPPORTIVE AND WONDERFUL LOVE YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SM 💞💖💓💗💕

chapter title and lyrics in this part from "wake up" from the julie and the phantoms soundtrack (whichhh if you haven't heard it... you should listen to it after reading maybe 👀)

plot and a lot of the dialogue from julie and the phantoms so like credit to all those creators and writers 🤪

warnings for this chapter: grief, mentioned character death (regarding kurt's mom)

read below the cut or here on ao3!! <3

2020

There’s a deep-seated weight of dread in Kurt’s stomach that he’s unable to ignore for the entire morning.

His last chance at the music program -- he needs to play again today, for the first time in over a year, or he’s done.

It’s all he can think about all day. He makes it through his first few classes, somehow, walking through the halls almost mindlessly, thoughts far away and only worrying about what he’s going to do, barely paying attention to who he’s almost running into, because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

It almost feels like last year again, when school started and everyone knew and everyone was staring at him in the hallways, even though he knows that they’re not right now and he knows most of these people couldn’t care less about him not being able to play at this point, but in his head it feels like they all know, like they’re all waiting, waiting and watching for him to play again and sing again.

He has been, too, for over a year.

He stops at his locker to wait for Mercedes before going to class.

“We’re gonna get tattoos together,” comes her familiar voice out of nowhere.

Involuntarily, Kurt smiles a little, turning to Mercedes. “Umm…?”

She shrugs and smiles back at him. “You know, when we’re adults and out in New York together or something. Just -- you know, at some point.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, silently saying, where the hell did this come from. Mercedes raises both of hers as if to say, answer the question. “Just curious,” she adds out loud. “Could start planning them now.”

He chuckles. “Of course. I’ll get all the matching tattoos with you.”

Grins and silent agreement pass between them and they both turn toward the lockers, a welcome break in the slowest part of the day, the voices and noises of other students filling the air.

“I know you don’t want me to ask, but…” Mercedes starts slowly after a moment, and Kurt nods his head in acknowledgement; he knows what she’s going to say. “Do you know what you’re going to do today?”

He puts some books in his backpack, mainly for something to do. “I’ll know in the moment,” he says, somewhat truthfully. He could just say what he thinks will happen, which is nothing. But Mercedes can see right through him anyway, so might as well stay somewhat positive until it happens. Or rather, doesn’t happen.

Mercedes sighs a little. “Mrs. Harrison said today is your last chance,” she tries, leaning on her side against the lockers.

“I know, I was there,” Kurt says lightly, letting his eyes scan the contents of his locker a tenth time. Mercedes reaches over and squeezes his hand lightly. Her eyes tell him that she’ll stop talking about it for now, and he squeezes back gratefully.

The conversation with Mercedes has really helped, though; it always does. If he’s going to spectacularly embarrass himself in front of his music class, and probably for the last time, at least he’ll have Mercedes there.

She sees it in his smile, and she sends it back. You always will, is her silent whisper.

A sharp, cheery voice pierces the air and makes them both turn their heads, and the uplifted mood from the conversation with Mercedes disappears when Kurt sees none other than Quinn Fabray, in her Cheerios! uniform, complete with a tight ponytail and perfect smile as she hands out what appears to be flyers to passing students, who are immediately won over by her status, closeness, sweetness. Finn Hudson lingers behind her with his guitar case and his own stack of flyers that he’s not handing out nearly as enthusiastically.

“Spirit rally Friday!” Quinn’s saying as she all but shoves another flyer into the face of a nervous freshman who takes it and scurries away, doing a double-take once they pass her. “Come see the Cheerios! do their new routine, and my group, the Unholy Trinity, perform our brand new original song!”

“What’s she handing out?” Kurt whispers to Mercedes. A corner of his lip quirks up despite the general unpleasantness of seeing Quinn.

“Desperation?” she answers with a small smirk. When Kurt turns back, Quinn is in front of him. He holds back a grimace at her fake smile and cheeriness.

“Hey, guys!” she chirps, as if they’re just any two other students at this school. “Here you go, my group’s performing at the spirit assembly on Friday!”

Kurt flinches back a little as a flyer appears much too close to his face and he takes it instinctively, holding it lightly in his fingertips. It truly looks like something Quinn designed -- perfectly professional, impressive, eye-catching -- and he can’t say it looks bad, as much as he might want to. He eyes Quinn over the top of the flyer.

“I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” Quinn continues, that smile still on her face, and there are the claws, Kurt thinks as he resists the urge to rip up the flyer right in front of her.

“Oh, my gosh, Quinn, thank you!” Mercedes says in an exaggeratedly sweet voice, clearly -- or at least clearly to Kurt, and likely Quinn as well -- imitating the specific tone of voice that Quinn takes, and Kurt stifles a laugh.

“Oh my gosh, Cedes, don’t bother coming!” Quinn says with a wide smile, turning away with a whip of her ponytail to continue pushing her flyers.

Kurt looks back at Mercedes, mumbling, “She did not just call you Cedes,” while Mercedes crumples up the flyer in her hands.

“Well, she did,” Mercedes says. Kurt can see the anger behind her eyes and he raises a concerned eyebrow. “I’m fine. She just… you know.” She dismisses his silent question.

“Yeah.” He loops his arm through Mercedes’ and they head down the hallway, almost running into Finn not three steps from Kurt’s locker.

“Oh, hey, sorry guys!” he says with a sheepish but genuine smile that contains all the warmth missing from Quinn’s. “Did you -- I guess Quinn already got -- ”

“Yep, she got to us,” Cedes says quickly, steering Kurt around Finn. “Thanks, Finn, bye!”

“Please tell me you are over him,” Mercedes says when they’re in a quieter area at the end of the row of lockers. Kurt realizes he’s staring and quickly looks away.

“Yeah, I am.” Mercedes looks at him skeptically and he insists, “I am, promise! You just… don’t find a nice jock like him around here that much.”

She nods, satisfied, and raises her eyebrows meaningfully. “You know they’re going to get married and have a bunch of demon babies.”

Kurt’s jaw drops open slightly and he laughs. “You can’t say Finn isn’t a sweetheart.”

“Only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby,” Mercedes says matter-of-factly.

“What… it’s a dominant gene?”

“Of course.” Mercedes turns back toward Quinn and raises her voice. “Demon!”

The two of them push against the wall, hiding behind the end of the lockers, when Quinn snaps her gaze back. Kurt can’t hold his laughs in this time, and he feels a little bad about it, but… considering what Quinn’s done to them, he can let himself and Cedes get away with it.

“There’s that smile,” Mercedes says gently as they gather themselves. “Now let’s go prove everybody wrong.” She pulls him toward the music room and slowly but surely, the sickening feeling in his stomach returns. He sits down next to Mercedes and just breathes. She squeezes his hand again.

Mrs. Harrison starts class soon after they arrive, getting into the last of the progress performances which are both a chance for the students to show off to their classmates, and also a checkpoint for participation in the music program, which is the part Kurt’s concerned about.

He barely hears as Finn finishes his drum solo and everyone claps and then Mrs. Harrison is calling his name and he’s standing and walking to the piano and oh god.

“Take your time,” Mrs. Harrison says gently.

That’s all he’s been doing for almost a year, just taking his time, but nothing has come of it. He sits down slowly, opening his music in front of him but it’s like his eyes don’t see the notes and just gloss over the page. He looks down at the keys, sets his fingers in place reluctantly.

It’s been so long that the keys almost feel foreign under his fingers when they once were the most familiar thing in the world. It’s been so long that he barely remembers how the song should go and why did he think he could just do this, it doesn’t matter how good at sightreading he’s always been. It’s been so long of him locking the memories in a chained and padlocked safe in the back of his mind and he’s terrified of playing again being what opens it because playing and singing and music has always always meant Mom, and she’s gone which he still sometimes forgets and it always hurts like hell to remember again, so letting himself remember so much more will only make reality that much worse. It’s been so long and what if he’s forgotten, what if he opens himself to the memories just to find that they don’t exist anymore?

It’s been so long; it’s been over a year, but doesn’t that mean he should be fine by now?

He knows avoiding the memories hasn’t been the best idea, but right now he can’t think of anything he could have done differently, can’t linger and regret his choices because he feels so vulnerable and exposed finally sitting at the piano in front of his whole class for the first time in a year, and the choice is right there and maybe he could do it but not in front of everyone his brain screams, and he can almost feel Quinn’s sharp, judging, so far from friendly gaze fixed on him and that is what breaks it, that is something he definitely can’t take and he pulls his hands back with a short inhale and the whirlwind in his mind stops and he can mostly breathe again.

It’s been so long.

Heart still pounding, he gets up and apologizes to Mrs. Harrison because she really has tried to help him and he appreciates it but he still can’t, and Quinn makes some comment and Mercedes fires something back but he doesn’t hear any of it, he just has to leave.

He knows Mercedes follows him out and she calls out his name when he’s halfway down the stairs. He’s started crying at some point and he doesn’t know when. All of it is just such a mess and so present in his mind; he was so close to music again, to Mom, but he’s not ready. He’s scared.

“Kurt,” Cedes calls again, quieter, her voice soft and choked, pleading. “Come on, please. Come back… and show them you can sing .”

He turns to look at her at the top of the stairs. “I can’t,” he says, voice rough with tears. “I’ve tried, for over a year I’ve tried…. I’ve tried for Dad, I’ve tried for Mrs. Harrison, fuck, I’ve even tried for Quinn.” He gives a short, bitter laugh as more tears spill down his cheeks.

“I’ve tried so hard for you.” He gestures up to her, voice breaking. “I’ve tried for Mom.” He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a breath. “And I’ve tried for myself.” Mercedes is also crying a little now.

“For over a year, I’ve tried,” Kurt continues weakly. “But I just -- I can’t. Not… not now.”

He runs down the rest of the stairs and out the door, and he knows he just got himself kicked out of music, knows he just ruined everything.

From mercedes 💖, 2:04 pm:

Are you leaving?

From mercedes 💖, 2:06

Tell me when you get home. I love you

To mercedes 💖, 2:08 pm:

i will, at the park for now

From mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

I’ll bring your stuff around later.

To mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

thank you

To mercedes 💖, 2:11 pm:

i love you. i’m sorry

From mercedes 💖, 2:12 pm:

Nothing to be sorry for, just take care of yourself okay?

From mercedes 💖, 2:13 pm:

Give yourself a hug from me until I get there to do it for you

“Hey, kiddo, how was your day?” Burt asks as he walks in, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder who’s doing homework at the kitchen table.

“It was okay,” Kurt responds with a small but hopefully convincing smile to hide the worry eating away at him inside, because if the school’s already contacted his dad about today, about Kurt ruining his last chance…

“I gotta go again in a bit,” Burt says, taking a drink of water. “Some guy really needs a car fix by tomorrow morning, but I’ll be done by dinner.” Kurt nods, some relief flooding his veins. He turns back to his homework.

“Oh, another thing,” Burt says and Kurt stiffens again. “I wanted to come and check in with you -- I talked to a real estate agent today, and they said if we’re serious about selling the house, we need to take some pictures and stuff, clean everything… and I was wondering if you’re up for cleaning Mom’s studio?”

Kurt’s immediate surprise and hesitance must show on his face even as he tries to keep his composure, because Burt quickly assures, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, I promise; we have time. You know I just -- I wouldn’t even know where to start in there.”

Kurt smiles a little. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “I can try tonight.”

“Awesome.” Burt ruffles Kurt’s hair, which from anyone else other than maybe Mercedes would not end particularly well, but Kurt just laughs and tries to brush the loose strands out of his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Kurt. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Kurt exhales slowly as his dad leaves again.

Cleaning out the studio means having to confront exactly what he’s tried to avoid for a year. The disaster that was music class today doesn’t make him feel better about it… but at least this time he’ll be alone -- none of the pressure of having to live up to the standards of well-meaning teachers or aggressive ex-best friends, none of the pressure of having to play at all, especially from the competitive nature at school. And… maybe he needs it.

Moving from here will only help you move on. Kurt’s aunt’s words echo in his mind. A part of him recoils at the idea of leaving his childhood home -- leaving the spaces his mom used to inhabit and her light and energy used to fill to the brim -- and starting over, someplace where there are none of those memories… he can’t tell if that’s a good thing. It feels like more of the running away that he’s been doing for a year, and he wonders if it really will solve anything.

But maybe he does need it. If staying in this house for the last year hasn’t helped, a change would be good, right?

Turning back to his work, he takes a deep breath and starts planning dinner in his head. He’ll tackle the studio after dinner’s ready.

To Dad, 7:39 pm:

dinner’s done, i’ll be in the studio

Kurt takes a slow breath as he opens the doors to the garage.

It’s not that it’s his first time in the studio after his mom died -- someone had to water the plants -- but he kept any interaction with the rest of the room minimal, so it still feels different to take in the full space instead of just rushing to the plants in the back with his head down. It always came with some guilt; it felt like the least he could do to keep some life in the studio when he could barely even bring himself to enter, let alone fill it with music as it needs to be.

He walks in slowly, some apprehension tickling the back of his neck, trying to stay calm. The familiarity is almost overwhelming this time as he looks around, actually taking in the room. The guitars on the wall, the couch and table, all of his mom’s decorations and knick-knacks. The chairs on the ceiling, story told with a fond smile from his dad about his mom wanting to decorate in a fun special way even while 7 months pregnant. The plants in the back, flourishing in front of the wall of windows positioned to let in the sunrise beautifully, not that Kurt has seen it happen recently.

And the grand piano -- in the center of the room, covered with a sheet, neglected for over a year. Kurt pulls it off now absentmindedly, letting the fabric pool over his feet. He takes a deep breath even though he probably just filled the air with dust, and goes over to the bench. He doesn’t open the lid, not yet. Some sheet music is on the seat and he places it on the piano without looking, sits down and gently touches the fallboard, inhaling shakily, not opening it to reveal the keys but just… remembering what it used to be, what it used to -- still means….

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut, “that I haven’t been here.”

With his eyes closed against the dark emptiness of the room, he can almost forget. It’s too easy to think that when he opens his eyes, his mom will be there, and she’ll be writing a song with him, or she’ll be playing, or they’ll just be talking…

Before the idea can flood his mind and leave him reeling when he returns to reality, Kurt stands and looks around the room again. There really is a strangeness to the place now. What used to be so comfortable and an extension of home -- sometimes even more home than the main house -- was always warm and brimming with emotion and joy and music and life -- now cold and dark and hollow, quiet. The familiar bones have an unsettling foreign emptiness around them. It feels wrong.

It needs to be filled. But… Kurt can’t do that.

He misses his mom -- always, but it’s amplified in this space that was always hers. He misses the feeling that the studio used to bring, that spirit that is now dimmed and suppressed. Covered, but still there. He can feel it like a gentle heat behind his skin. Not bad, but overwhelming, and he just….

The loft, Kurt decides suddenly. He’ll start with the loft. There aren’t memories and emotions so confusing and thick there that he’s barely able to avoid it, to push his way through with no energy left to untangle and understand. The loft is just full of random old stuff that his mom wouldn’t throw out and his dad teased her about.

So the loft first. And then he can ease into the rest when he’s more ready. After all, his dad did say they have time.

It’s significantly dustier in the loft; old instruments and random bags full of clothes are scattered and piled across the floor, his own electric keyboard propped up against the wall. Kurt stands on the stepladder a few steps below the actual loft floor, looks around a little, his eyes landing on a CD case lying on the ground -- black with a simple stark white word design: Sunset Curve. He picks it up, eyeing it thoughtfully, brings it back down to the main floor and decides to put it into the old CD player.

He doesn’t really know why he has such an urge all of a sudden. He’s listened to some music, but not nearly as much as before, and has actually chosen to listen to music only a handful of times since his mom died.

But… the studio needs music. As an apology for a year of neglect, and as a goodbye, he can let this music redeem the studio’s spirit a little, fill what he’s left hollow.

And he doesn’t want to be alone in the silence with his memories while he’s going through everything, even just in the loft. As something completely unfamiliar and random, this can give him the distraction and none of the pain. At least, that’s the plan.

Stepping down from the loft stairs, he glances at the picture in the CD case as he opens it -- a band of four who all look like teenagers, staring seriously into the camera -- he doesn’t get a good look at them, just slides the disc into the CD player and takes a seat on the couch.

The opening song starts strong with a gritty guitar riff and a 1, 2, 3! counting the band in. Despite himself, Kurt starts nodding along to the beat. It really is a great song, unique and upbeat…

Then some kind of… panicked screaming makes itself heard, first quietly and he thinks it could be part of the song, but it crescendos and gets unbearably loud --

And then there are three strangers appearing out of thin air before his eyes, screaming as they fall to the ground heavily. Kurt would wince at the sound of the impact --

That part’s certainly unlike any CD he’s listened to before.

He’s frozen, heart hammering and eyes widening as he stares at the three strangers picking themselves up off the ground, taking in their surroundings a little…

“How’d we get back here?” the middle one -- a shorter guy with black hair -- says breathlessly.

Kurt screams.

It’s not his finest moment, but three complete strangers just appeared in his mom’s studio, seemingly just popping into the air, and he can’t say he’s never been superstitious in his entire life or that he isn’t drawing immediate conclusions -- supernatural conclusions, fucking ridiculous conclusions. He doesn’t love that he runs into his dad on his way back into the house which may have also involved a little yelling about seeing ghosts (ghosts who screamed back, for the record), but he makes it to the safety of his room and texts Mercedes frantically, who doesn’t respond.

“Come on, Cedes,” he hisses to himself, shooting off another text. “Answer me!”

A knock from his doorway startles him and he just barely manages to hold back a shout, turning to see his dad leaning into his room hesitantly.

“You okay?”

Kurt gives him what must be a hysterical-looking attempt at a reassuring smile, all wide eyes and clenched teeth. “Yeah, no, totally fine, sorry for -- scaring you,” he replies choppily, tone not even convincing to himself. “Just, um, practicing for a school play.”

Burt definitely doesn’t believe him, but nods slowly anyway. “Well, I’m gonna go clean up -- ” He gestures over his shoulder with a grease-covered hand. “Dinner in like, ten minutes?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Kurt says shortly, forcing another smile and a thumbs-up.

As soon as the door closes, Kurt turns back toward his window and tries to get a glance of the studio, but it’s blocked from this angle by the trees in their yard. Apprehensively, he heads back to the garage, thankfully not running into his dad this time, phone in hand and thumb hovering over Mercedes’ phone contact.

When he goes in, it’s empty; no sign of anything out of the ordinary happening.

He scans the space warily, feeling jumpy and nervous, but nothing happens and he mumbles, “I know I saw something, I’m not crazy.”

He hears a soft popping noise and then, “Well, we’re all a little crazy,” from behind him and he turns with a sharp gasp.

“Oh, my god, who are you?” Kurt yells, maybe a little too loud because the black-haired boy winces slightly and all three of them step back a little. “What the hell are you doing in my mom’s studio?”

“Your mom’s studio?” the black-haired guy scoffs. “This is our studio!”

The tall blonde guy bounces forward. “Yeah, like, the piano’s new, but -- ” He looks to the right and his face lights up. “My couch!” he calls, running over and jumping straight onto it.

The girl -- hair black and in braids -- rolls her eyes. “Not your couch, Sam.”

The blonde -- Sam? -- sits up indignantly, stabbing a finger in the cushions. “Hey, I spent more time on this couch than any of you. Pretty sure it’s mine at this point.”

Kurt just watches them with wide eyes, jaw hanging open, with absolutely no idea what to do.

“But these aren’t our instruments,” the black-haired guy says warily, looking around. At some point he and the girl have linked arms, Kurt notices. He watches as they all take in the studio, faces getting increasingly confused and worried. Kurt raises an eyebrow that apparently can go higher than it already is.

“Because… it’s my mom’s studio…” he manages to say again, mind still whirling at the hurricane of new and completely nonsensical information.

“Can you just -- give us a minute?” Sam says, jumping over the coffee table to join his friends. They turn away to talk in a huddle, and Kurt stands awkwardly as they talk in failed attempts at hushed tones.

Tina’s trying to ignore the pounding of her possibly-only-theoretical heart -- she’s dead, how can she even feel a heartbeat -- as she watches Blaine and Sam talk to the… living person in front of them. Sam makes his usual comment about “his couch” and Tina snarks back with her usual response and it gives her some comfort, some familiarity even in this studio which should feel like home, has for so long, and it still does to an extent, but everything here is suddenly different.

The comment does send the strange boy’s attention back to her, though, which she doesn’t really like. Blaine wraps an arm around hers and she squeezes his forearm in gratitude. He did that a lot when they were alive -- knew how and when to offer her his touch to reassure her a little.

At least there’s something that’s still the same.

At least her boys are still the same.

She tries to focus on Blaine’s arm in hers, on Sam’s dumb comments as he comes bounding back to them, hissing, “Guys, what is going on here?”

Tina shrugs. Blaine whispers, “Who is he?”

“He can hear you,” the person in question says pointedly from behind them, but Sam ignores him and says, “Maybe he’s a witch.” He looks up, pointing. “There are chairs on the ceiling.”

“There’s no such thing as witches,” Tina hisses.

“Are you sure?” Sam shoots back. “Because I used to think there was no such thing as ghosts!”

Tina swallows. “That’s fair.”

“So we’re going with witch?” Blaine asks.

“No!” Tina waves her hands at both of them. “No, come on. You guys are just -- he’s probably just overwhelmed, okay? Let someone with a softer touch handle this.”

Maybe “softer touch” wasn’t the right phrase to use in this instance, she thinks, but she really just wants answers and figures she might as well be straightforward. “Why are you in our studio?” she asks, maybe a little too aggressively, stepping up to the alive stranger.

He looks down with a shocked expression and Tina realizes she accidentally got close enough to touch him -- or… pass her hand through his, partially. They both watch as he brings his hand through hers again. It’s a weird feeling -- warm and kind of tingly, or like she’s putting her hand through water.

“Oh my god,” he says, eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

Tina raises their eyebrows a little. “Okay, clearly you don’t -- clearly, he doesn’t get it,” she says, addressing the guys behind her. She turns back to the stranger, gesturing to herself and the others as she explains, “We’re ghosts. We’re just three ghosts, and we’re really happy to be home, so… thank you for the flowers; they really brighten up the room.” She tries to smile at him.

“We’re actually in a band called Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up, stepping up to flank her on the left.

“Tell your friends!” chimes Sam on her right.

“Last night was a really big night for us,” Blaine says, a little sadly. “It was gonna change our lives.”

Tina whispers, “Uh, I’m pretty sure it did.” Blaine huffs and elbows her gently.

“This is freaking me out,” the stranger says, shaking his head as he takes something from his pocket.

“What is that; what are you doing?” Blaine asks.

Alive Stranger looks up, fingers still touching the face of the object. “It’s my phone -- nope, stop talking to them! There’s no such thing as cute ghosts,” he says, seemingly to himself.

Sam gasps. “Think we’re cute?” He raises an eyebrow, making one of his insufferable Sam faces; Tina almost laughs.

The boy looks up again with wide eyes, gaze flitting to each of them as if watching for a reaction, swallowing and going back to his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Tina asks, trying to see the side facing him because that doesn’t look like any phone she’s ever seen.

“I’m googling Sunset Swerve.”

“Sunset Curve!” Blaine, Sam, and Tina correct him at the same time, Sam drawing a curve in the air with his finger.

The stranger laughs nervously, staring at them with wide eyes and then back at his phone. “Okay… so there is a Sunset Curve.” He swallows again. “You guys did die. But not last night.” Tina’s stomach drops a little; Blaine and Sam get closer.

“Twenty-five… years ago,” the boy finishes, a confused look in his eyes.

Tina barely has time to register this before Sam says, “That’s impossible. All we did after we floated out of the car was go to that weird dark room where Tina cried.”

Her mouth drops open. “I wasn’t -- I -- we -- ” she squeaks, voice jumping up an octave. “I think we were all pretty upset,” she says, but she supposes Sam is right.

He pats her back and doesn’t have a chance to respond again because Blaine steps in, “That was just for, like, an hour, though. We just showed up here.” Tina and Sam nod.

“Look,” the living one says, finally turning his “phone” toward them. They lean forward to see a screen with a photo of them -- and Artie, Tina thinks distantly; she feels his absence acutely and it spikes through her chest -- taken for their summer tour, and a bunch of small text around it that she can’t read, a bold headline at the top reading, Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Tragedy. “I’m just telling you what my phone says,” he explains. “You guys died in 1995. It’s now 2020.”

“So this is the future?” Sam asks incredulously as the boy pulls his phone back. Something else sticks out in Tina’s mind, though.

“So -- it has been twenty-five years,” she says, pausing to gather her thoughts. “I have been crying for twenty-five years -- how is that possible?!”

“You’re a very emotional person,” Sam reasons.

“I am not!” she insists, but the tears already pressing in the back of her throat want to prove otherwise. Distantly, she reminds herself that she’s with her friends who’ve seen it all and she doesn’t need to hold back, but the presence of this complete stranger also overrides the ease of her relationship with the guys. Sam rubs a comforting hand over her shoulder, and she swallows the tears down.

Alive Stranger shakes his head. “I gotta go… eat dinner,” he says slowly. He turns back around once he’s walked past the three of them and says, “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn’t your studio anymore. You have to leave.”

“But we -- ” Blaine starts, starting to go forward but a sharp glare stops him and he clears his throat. “We didn’t even get your name.”

“It’s Kurt,” the stranger snaps.

“Cool, I’m -- Blaine,” Blaine says hesitantly. “And this is…”

“Sam, hey.”

“Tina, how’s it going…”

“Ba-da,” Blaine sings weakly, gesturing his hands in front of them like he’s presenting them to Kurt.

They all watch for Kurt’s reaction, but he just sighs and leaves the studio. He leaves the doors open, probably to remind them that they technically just got kicked out of their studio -- or, Kurt’s mom’s studio -- someone’s studio, but really it’s been their home for so long…

“Kurt seems nice,” Sam says cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Tina turns to him. “Did you miss the part where he kicked us out, or…” she says drily. Sam shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Okay,” Tina mutters, turning to wander around the studio some more. If they’re going to be kicked out, she wants to spend as much more time as she can here.

Kurt’s mind is a storm. He doesn’t know where to start with this new information -- with an evening that took such a sharp turn from reminiscing and sad and somewhat painful into just… something so completely different and unexpected.

Dinner Kurt can do. He can put the craziness of ghosts aside because dinner is easy, dinner is simple; dinner is important.

His dad has already set everything out so Kurt takes his seat across from him, sending a not-completely-true nvm everything’s fine, sorry for worrying you text to Mercedes, who finally got back to him at some point when he was distracted…

Distracted talking to ghosts.

“How’s it going?” Burt asks as he sits down and it takes Kurt a second to remember he must be talking about cleaning the studio, and not actually about ghost musicians.

Ghosts don’t exist. There are no ghosts in the garage. Don’t think about ghosts.

“It’s good,” Kurt says, poking at his food a little. “I’m starting with the loft.”

Burt smiles. “Those old instruments need a home.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, returning the smile. “Mom would like that.”

The instruments probably belong to some ghosts, Kurt realizes, but… nothing he can really do about that. And that’s if the ghosts can even touch objects.

They eat in comfortable silence for a while and then Burt sets down his fork. Kurt looks up apprehensively.

“So I got an email from the school today,” he starts. Kurt fiddles with his fork and drops his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay, Kurt, I’m not mad,” Burt promises.

You should be, Kurt thinks -- all that money spent for him to audition for and attend the music program, and for private lessons and sheet music and piano maintenance, just for him to throw it all away.

“I know those classes can be hard,” his dad says, and Kurt almost can’t take his gentle tone, feels guilty about it even though he appreciates it. “But… you still like music, don’t you?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe?”

“I know the memories are hard, believe me, Kurt. But, every time I see you, I see Mom, you know? And I love that, I really do. Maybe, if you give yourself a chance, you can, too.” Kurt looks up hesitantly to see his dad’s gentle, loving expression and eyes slightly glassy with tears. Looking down again, he swallows, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I will. I’ll try.”

Because what he said to Mercedes earlier on the staircase is true, but… he’ll always try harder for his dad.

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Burt assures him. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Kurt smiles and almost starts eating again, but music suddenly blares from outside, startling both of them, Kurt barely holding back a loud swear.

“What is that?” Burt says, getting up but Kurt rushes to reassure him, saying quickly, “I must have just left the CD player on in the garage! It’s fine, I’ll go get it!”

He runs back to the studio where the ghosts are still there apparently, and have somehow gotten instruments from the loft and set everything up to start playing, and play really loudly -- and it honestly sounds good but Kurt can’t focus on that because they’re going to disturb the entire neighborhood and get the cops called on them for a noise complaint and what is he supposed to say -- no officer, it was just the three ghosts in the garage being idiots, sorry?

Kurt yells for them to stop but it’s useless; he can barely even hear himself over how incredibly loudly they’re playing. Blaine, on an electric guitar that Kurt remembers seeing in the loft, turns and sees Kurt, walking towards him and finally playing one last chord when Kurt makes a horizontal cutting motion with his hand, and Sam, on the bass, follows, Tina playing one last short drum roll, looking up with a wide grin.

They all look… alive, Kurt thinks, despite literally being dead, so different from the confusion he left them with -- relaxed and loose and faces lit up, the energy flowing through them almost visible. If he didn’t know they were ghosts and made of air, he’d expect to be able to reach out and feel them, breaths hot and fast from the exertion and adrenaline, skin warm and slightly sweaty, hearts beating strong like the steady percussion of their band.

It reminds him of how music used to make him feel.

“Cut it out!” Kurt snaps, trying not to raise his voice too much. “The whole neighborhood could hear you! I thought I told you to leave!”

Blaine looks back at his bandmates, bewildered. “People -- people can hear us play?”

“Yes!” Kurt says exasperatedly. “My dad heard you from inside!”

“… What did he think?” Blaine asks after a moment. Kurt opens his mouth for an irritated response --

“Everything okay in here?”

Kurt whips around to see his dad in the doorway and smiles with wide eyes. “Yeah! I just -- had to turn off the CD player,” he lies.

People have told Kurt before that he’s a good liar; he really hopes that’s true after the evening he’s had -- he's having.

Burt’s attention is elsewhere, though, seemingly forgetting about the chaos from just a moment earlier. “Wait, is this the junk that was in the loft?” he says, excitedly eyeing the instruments and… the ghosts that he can’t see.

“Junk?” Blaine exclaims. Tina stands up, her eyes on Burt, drumsticks gripped tightly in one hand.

They all watch apprehensively as Burt weaves through the instruments, even going so far as to rattle Tina’s cymbals and tap the drums, much to her horror. She fixes Kurt with wide, urgent eyes, to which Kurt just shrugs and gives her a helpless look. Hey Dad, actually, the ghost drummer wants you to stop, so…

“Hey, this stuff’s in pretty good shape,” Burt says excitedly. “Maybe we can make a couple bucks, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees weakly, mostly just watching as Tina fails to push Burt away from the drums.

“I like the song you had on,” Burt says, finally stepping away from the instruments. Tina rubs down a cymbal with her sleeve.

“Sweet! We’re Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up.

“Tell your friends!” Sam says, to a fond eye-roll from Tina.

“It’s just an old CD I found,” Kurt says, ripping his attention from the ghosts.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re listening to music again,” Burt says sincerely. “Out here, you can play whatever you want, whenever you want.” He waves his hands out on either side for emphasis, going through Sam and Blaine’s bodies. Kurt chuckles weakly.

“Oh,” Sam says, looking down at where Burt’s hand was in his stomach just a moment before. “That’s nice.”

“Stay out of this,” Kurt hisses.

“Sorry, Kurt, I’m just trying to help -- ”

“Oh! No, not you, Dad,” Kurt says quickly. For fuck’s sake -- “Just -- just give me a minute -- ” He starts pulling his dad toward the door. Burt stops him and says, “Hey, we’re gonna figure out this music program thing, okay?”

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt says with a smile, and gestures for him to leave.

Once Burt is out of sight, he turns back to the ghosts.

“Wait -- ” Tina waves her drumsticks around a little. “So -- only you can see us, but everyone can hear us?” Kurt nods in confirmation. “What kind of ghosts are we?” Tina says.

“Who cares, dude!” Sam says, stepping up to Tina’s drum kit with a grin. “People can hear us play!” The three exchange fist-bumps as Blaine says happily, “We might be dead, but our music isn’t.”

“And Kurt’s dad likes our music!” Sam cheers.

“He’s a dad, it doesn’t count,” Tina mumbles, smiling and pushing Sam playfully when he turns to her with an offended look.

Confusion and annoyance bubble up inside Kurt along with something like anger at, just, all of it and he groans and says loudly, “Why can’t you guys just be normal ghosts? You know, go hang out at an old mansion or something! I hear Pasadena’s nice!” and turns to leave, slamming the door on his way out.

He just… has had too much going on today. He needs to -- ignore his homework and the problem with school and maybe just sleep in for the next two days. That would be really nice.

He’s so caught up in his head and he jumps and yells when a ghost appears in front of him with no warning.

“Don’t do that!” Kurt exclaims.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine says quickly. “ -- You do know how rad this is though, right? People -- people can hear us play!”

“Yeah, good for you,” Kurt replies, a little too harshly. “It’s just that I’ve had a really, really, awful day. I’ve gotta go.”

He walks past Blaine just to turn around again when he says, “I’m really sorry you had a bad day.” Kurt nods; he can tell Blaine wants to say more, so he waits.

Blaine continues slowly, “I just… three ghosts just found out they had a bad twenty-five years, and then they find out that the one thing they lived for in the first place, they can still do. So you can kick us out, but -- we’re not giving up music. We can play again; that’s a gift no musician would ever turn down,” he says earnestly, eyes wide and almost pleading.

That hurts in Kurt’s chest a little more than it should and he looks down again to avoid the passion and excitement shining clearly in Blaine’s eyes, in his voice, in his words. He swallows down the feeling that statement unearths inside of him, but suddenly his bad day is at the forefront of his mind again -- his bad year.

That’s a gift no musician would ever turn down … some musician he is, then. But he already knew that.

Blaine says softly, “You’ve gotta know that. Clearly your mom is into music.”

Kurt swallows. “Was,” he says, monotone and quiet. “She passed away.”

He hates that it’s become easier to say; he wants to either spit the words out or break down sobbing but he manages to keep his voice steady. (In the back of his mind, he wonders why he just told that to a random ghost he just met. Maybe he’s just going crazy. He’s literally talking to ghosts, after all.)

Blaine’s face falls. “I -- I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Yeah, we -- we didn’t know,” Sam says quietly. He and Tina have also left the studio, standing on the other side of the low wall separating the garage area from the pathway back to the house. They look up with sympathetic eyes and Kurt looks away from them too -- can’t meet any of their wide, well-meaning gazes right now.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses. “Sorry I got mad.” The ghosts are thankfully looking at each other now, seemingly silent conversation passing between their glances. “You guys are pretty good,” Kurt says, trying to change the subject and lighten the atmosphere.

Blaine raises an eyebrow, turning his gaze back to Kurt. “‘Pretty good’? You know that’s just, like, 25 years of rust being dusted off, right?”

“Do you play, too?” Tina asks.

“No, no, I don’t play.” It’s not exactly a lie anymore but it scrapes in Kurt’s throat with his haste to answer. “That’s all my mom’s stuff in there.”

“She’s an amazing songwriter,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, she was,” Kurt answers. “Wait… how do you know?”

Blaine opens his mouth, glancing at the others for a second. “We found a song on the piano,” he says. “If it’s hers… your mom was really talented.”

Kurt nods. She really, really was.

He feels like he doesn’t have the energy to say it again, so he just stays quiet. Somewhat awkwardly, he turns to leave, sensing the end of the conversation and part of him desperately wanting to just leave and not have to see these ghosts again….

So Kurt surprises even himself when he pauses and turns back to face them. “I guess,” he starts, and their gazes snap back up to him. “If you need a place to stay… you can stay in there.” He nods toward the studio and the ghosts’ faces light up. Kurt can’t help but smile back. “There’s a couch that turns into a bed, and in the back there’s a bathroom with a shower, if you still need any of that stuff.”

“Awesome!” Sam exclaims quietly, earning an elbow in the side and a questioning look from Tina. “What? Dude, I just really like showers,” he defends.

Tina rolls her eyes. Kurt takes a breath, raising his hands to gesture vaguely at the three of them. “This is just… too weird.” He nods to himself, finally leaving this time, leaving the ghosts to… do what they will.

The fact that there are ghosts in his mom’s studio…. Maybe there’s a chance that Mom knows them -- sent them, he thinks… but decides to not get his hopes up. She’s gone and he needs to just keep it at that.

What he really wants is to tell Mercedes, but he doesn’t know how.

What would you say if I told you there were three ghosts living in my mom’s studio? Kurt thinks on his way back to his room.

You’d say I’m crazy.

It’s some point in the night; they figured out that they don’t need to sleep -- can’t sleep, it seems like, which is honestly really annoying in Tina’s opinion because they’re ghosts with literally nothing to do for too many hours at a time -- so they’re just hanging out in the studio, with the lights outside giving them a little visibility through the garage windows, but it’s kind of nice to just sit in the dark.

Tina has been on the couch with Sam, lying on their backs, heads in opposite directions, legs pressed up against each other. Sam’s bass is unplugged, laid on his stomach and extending over Tina’s legs. He plucks out notes and Tina accompanies with a soft beat using just her hands and body parts as instruments. Sometimes it’s a familiar bassline -- a Sunset Curve song rehearsed or performed or recorded before -- and they also hum the harmonies that they know, and sometimes they improvise -- Tina storing the good bits in her mind for a future writing session.

Blaine is in the loft where they hoped a light could be on and maybe go unnoticed. Tina assumes that he’s writing; he always was when they were alive. And of course, now he has 25 years of dark room and relative nothingness to catch up on writing about.

It feels like another quiet night from when they were alive, each of them with an excuse to escape their homes for the night, and they’d all crash here, filling the studio with soft music and noise. Blaine would stay up writing and sometimes singing while Sam and Tina (and Artie) would try to sleep, telling him to stop humming, or, since the main house inhabitants who would care about the noise were rarely there, they would sometimes join along with him and make it a Sunset Curve midnight rehearsal.

They’ve never had the best sleep schedules anyway.

Tina giggles quietly as she and Sam play into nothingness, both parts running uncontrolled and unable to get back on track. They both stop and Sam starts playing a familiar line -- parts they’d worked out before with bass, drums, and both guitars, but never actually put into a song. Tina waits for a moment to come in with her part.

She’s nearly startled off the couch when Blaine poofs down beside the couch with his guitar and starts his part. Tina starts laughing -- probably too loud but they’re pretty sure only their music can be heard anyway -- and slides off the couch to sit on the ground, picking the drumming back up on her legs.

“You guys wanna check out this teleportation thing?” Blaine asks, playing the challenging guitar riff meant for electric guitar messily on his acoustic without a pick.

Sam sits up and puts his bass to the side. “Absolutely,” he says. “Where’re we going?”

“I have an idea,” Blaine says, setting his guitar down. He pulls Tina up and extends a hand out for Sam. “I think I can take you guys with me.”

“What?” Tina squeaks, but a second later, she’s sitting far above the ground, outside, on top of the marquee of the Orpheum. “Oh my god,” she mutters, looking down dizzily at the people passing by on the sidewalk. Her body tingles with a weird uncomfortable energy for just a few seconds before it fades.

“Yes!” Blaine laughs, kicking his legs up excitedly. “I mean, I know being a ghost isn’t our first choice, but it sure is easy getting around!”

“Easy for you, maybe!” Sam cries on Blaine’s other side. “I lost my shirt on that one!”

Tina looks over and sure enough, Sam is shirtless. She stifles a laugh behind her hand. “Like that’s a concern,” she pipes up, but Sam’s shirt appears right as she says it. They all laugh and sit in silence for a moment.

“So why’d you bring us here?” Tina asks, looking out across Hollywood Boulevard, the new and old buildings and shops, the people and cars of the future. The light of the Orpheum’s neon sign shines in her periphery, same as it did on a night twenty-five years ago. “Just another reminder of where we never got to play,” she says wryly, turning to face Blaine on her left, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, Blaine.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you guys, it’s not over yet!” Tina reappears on the sidewalk right below them, almost losing her balance and falling through a person walking past. She shoots a glare at Blaine for teleporting them with no warning again, but he just grins back and starts down the sidewalk, Sam following. “Let’s see how many places we can play tonight, yeah? Check out the music scene of the future? And no trouble getting into those clubs anymore!”

Tina laughs, falling into step with them. She watches Sam walk straight through someone going in the opposite direction and doesn’t realize someone is in her way, which shouldn't be a problem, until she bumps into them.

She feels them.

“Hey!” she says involuntarily, turning to see who it was -- another ghost? A tall man with a cape and top hat nods at her with an acknowledging and almost menacing gleam in his eye, then turns again and walks away.

He could see her, he could touch her -- he has to be another ghost, right?

“Tina, you coming?” Sam calls. She swallows and takes one last look, the other ghost having disappeared among the other people on the sidewalk, before turning and running to catch back up with the guys.

“I just ran into someone,” she says, a little breathless -- she doesn’t know if that’s from running, which she doesn’t think she can actually get breathless from, or the fact that she ran into someone.

“Another ghost?” Blaine says.

“I mean, it has to be, right? Uh, Kurt -- Kurt can see us but he can’t touch us…”

“And his dad couldn’t either,” Sam adds.

“It must have been another ghost. He looked like a… performer, or something.” Tina wrinkles their nose a little as she remembers his whole get-up, completely out of place among what she’s seen so far of 21st century street fashion. (But then again, so is she, and her friends.)

“… I guess we’re not alone, then,” Blaine says, breaking a short bewildered silence.

“We’re never alone!” Sam exclaims, walking between them to throw his arms around Blaine and Tina’s shoulders. Tina laughs and grabs his forearm, mystery ghost forgotten for the time being.

Blaine responds with a grin, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Kurt wakes up earlier than usual the next morning. He thinks he still has school -- he doesn’t know how being removed from the music program works, but no one told him not to come and besides, he does have non-music classes to keep up with, even if he doesn’t necessarily want to. He gets ready as usual, leaving breakfast out for his dad, and there’s still half an hour before Mercedes should be getting here.

Perfect. There’s something he needs to try by himself… for himself.

He heads out to the studio with his things, a fluttering feeling in his stomach, but it’s different from the feeling before he tried to play in class yesterday, like the butterflies had turned to stone and were rolling around inside him, weighing him down and making him nauseous. This time it’s promising, hopeful, familiar -- butterflies fluttering normally, peacefully.

The room is empty when Kurt pushes the doors open and drops his backpack by the entrance.

“Guys?” he calls hesitantly, to no response.

He wonders if he should be worried about where the ghosts might be, or relieved for if they really did leave after all, since that is what he wanted… but he realizes relief is not at all what he feels at that possibility.

But if the ghosts aren’t here, then all the better for what he wants to do, so he decides to ignore their absence for now.

Kurt walks up to the grand piano in the middle of the room, thinking. There’s something… something deep loosening in his chest -- something about Blaine and the others and their intense passion for music that is so different from the intense judgment and competition at school that made it so impossible for him to play yesterday.

The way Blaine had talked about music…

The one thing they lived for in the first place -- they can still do.

A gift.

Kurt spreads out the sheet music that he found yesterday, just placed on the piano lid without a glance and it’s still there, so Blaine and the others must have just taken a look at it. He recognizes his mother’s handwriting, achingly familiar and beautiful in a minimalistic way, the neat notes and lyrics, clean and legible even without the help of staff lines. His heart stutters and he gasps a little as he reads some of it -- he recognizes the song. Something his mom told him she was writing when she got sick.

Kurt used to be so involved in her songwriting, but as she got worse and Kurt grew away from the piano (and from his voice), he never asked about this song.

She’d finished it.

Here’s the one thing I want you to know, you got someplace to go…

And he needs to hear it.

His fingers tremble slightly as he places them gingerly on the keys over the starting notes of the song. It feels completely different than it did yesterday; he doesn’t know if it’s the lack of teacher and students watching, the insanity of yesterday evening in between, the song itself… but the stones turned back into butterflies and it almost feels like it did before….

He wants to play, to make music. For the first time in a year, he actually feels like he can. And he needs to.

And if -- when -- it unlocks the memories… he thinks he’s ready.

Kurt takes a deep breath and plays.

#i somehow added like 25 words in my final edit just now lol #idk if anyone really cares but suspend ur disbelief at kurt singing julie's songs XD #i definitely know it probably would not work with her songs as is #they have Very different voices i am aware but i'm also too lazy to do anything about it so . they can be adjusted #to fit his voice right lol i just have no idea how that works 🤪 i just play piano and even then not really 🥴#so just like imagineee lol #i love how in the last part i said what would be endgame in this fic but like #damn i don't have any idea what's happening past what happens in the actual jatp show and #even then idk what's gonna happen within those bc it's not exactly the same 😂#lol but those ships Will probably like #have hints or something if that makes any sense laksdhgdjfs anywayyyy #kurt and the phantoms #my ficsssss #glee fic #glee #idk how i tag things lmao i think that's good enough XD #DRUMMER TINA DRUMMER TINA DRUMMER TINA #oh my god it's finally happening skdghsdhdkghdhjfhgjfgh #i've been working on this since my family went on vacation at the end of june so like two months fuckdghjfdkl #anyway lol hope y'all likeeeee 🥺💖#omg we're at 79 pages of google doc total lol

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bittybattybunny · 4 years ago

Photo

Good day it’s a new au time cuz BRAIN ROT BRRRRR

Anyhow it’s a “MCU” but not kinda au

big thanks to @doodleimprovement for dealing with my word vomit over this au lol iamsosorry

Ru is a tech company CEO giant with his daughter Harriet (his business partner is his former wife who wants nothing to do with their kid) and adopted the recently orphaned Kaya Solaria after she helped stop a mugger in the alley way (well. Spider King did but her mask got hit off by a bullet and Ru saw it was just a kid and stepped in)

Working on running a company, raising his 6 year old as well as a super powered 15 year old (Kaya actually has Spiderman’s powers, King came after the fact and is tied to how she lost her dad) he ends up getting injured on a business trip after he was taken captive. Upon return he decides to try and ‘be a hero’ as a means to get his eldest to stop sneaking out (she has guilt over her dad dying so tries to be a hero to make up for it despite Ru asking her to wait until she’s 18 at least) he figures if he can get the world (or at least their city) safer, she can rest at ease (cuz he’s a good dad and just wants her to... be a kid. not try to be more than a kid) he uses the Alias “Thorned Snatcher” (as his last name is Thatcher)

Vanessa however wants his new tech as she thinks its the key to a new weapons future and nearly kills Ru when she rips the reactor from his chest. Thankfully he had his old model still and his secretary (Eclipse) and daughters get home in time to help him. he knows if he doesn’t stop Vanessa things will be even worse for his family.

During their fight, he’s knocked down and nearly stops there to tired, but hears his daughters crying for him, specifically for the first time since he adopted her Kaya calls him “Dad”. He knows he needs to keep to his goal and if Vanessa is left free he failed a father.

He manages to get up with the Help of Eclipse who joined the fight, having stalled Vanessa hand to hand despite Vanessa’s weapon suit (sus eclipse is sus) and he’s able to fight again and put an end to her.

he gives Kaya a stipulation when they are waiting on the cops, he’ll let her fight crime, but only when he’s with her.

and thats the first part of this au eve (second bit deals with miss secretary past. A woman who is able to give Kaya a sore hand with a high five despite kaya can stop some extensive things (likepeterstoppingbucky’sfist) and went toy to toy with Vanessa with just a hub cap. Hrm. Cap. Cap. Captain...?)

I actually wrote up when Ru met Kaya. It’s a lil fast pace but I did it on purpose.

“If ya just hand ova ya wallet and yer valuables, you and yers can get out of here with a scar on your little faces.”

Arulius sighed as he heard the mugger and moved an arm to push his 6 year old behind his back. He gently gestured to his watch with a finger, to which she tapped a button on to call their bodyguard, Florence.

“I’m afraid I really don’t have time for this. Harriet has a dance recit--” Arulius clicked his tongue when the gun was pressed up into his neck.

“I’m bein generous, man.” he pressed it further, pulling the hammer back.

“That’s not very polite! Did your dad never tell you not to stick your shooter in people’s faces?” Came a laughing voice. The mugger gasped when black webbing stuck to his back and pulled him to the ground.

Standing perpendicular to the wall was the dark-suited figure, glowing white eyes and jagged smile laughing.

“D-Dad! Dad, it’s Spider King!” Harriet giggled as she hung onto her dad’s leg. He scowled and went to step back.

“YA FREAK!” The mugger tried to fight against the restraints, the primed gun going off in the hero’s direction.

There was a hiss as the masked figure fell off the wall with a solid thud. Arulius scooped Harriet up, only stopping when he saw the vigilante's face, the bullet having knocked her mask off.

“A… A kid?” he grimaced. Why was a CHILD attacking a mugger? Before he could open his mouth to speak there was a hissing.

“N-No King don’t! I’m fine! I’m fine!” the teenager gasped as the black claws she had tore off in slimy chunks, lunging at the mugger. She winced with the crunch as his hands were removed and she paled some, shaking.

Arulius shielded his daughter’s eyes.

“BOSS!” The red head came barreling down the alley, a bit too late when Spider King tried to grab her mask.

“Stop.” Arulius ordered her. She looked up with frightened gold eyes. The tentacles retracting up her sleeves, “wait a moment.”

“Oh gross!” Florence shuddered as she moved to get the mugger up, the man an incoherent mess, “you do this?” she asked the teenager whose temple was bleeding.

She said nothing and gripped her arms as she tried to process. She blinked when tiny hands went to her cheeks.

“BIG SIS IS SO COOL!” Harriet giggled. Her father was talking on his phone.

“I-I’m.. No…” she looked away ashamed, “Y-You… I’m… I just… wanted to help…” she began to sniffle, “I-I didn’t mean for king to…”

“He hurt Sol. Bite back.” The snake-like creature peeked from the girl’s collar.

“I-I told you no biting h---” she placed her hands over her mouth and scurried to her feet, violently vomiting into a trash can. She panted some. Tensing when a hand rubbed her back gently.

“Yes. yes. He shot his own hands off in his confusion. Must be high.” Arulius was standing near her now as he spoke on the phone, “My guard was able to restrain him. Yes. yes I’m fine as is my daughter and the teen he was attacking. Mmhm.”

She flinched when he scowled and tilted her head up, “scratch that, looks like the teen got a bit hurt, but we’ll treat her. Yes. yes. I’ll leave my guard here.” hanging up he shifted his phone to his pocket before licking his thumb and wiping the blood away. She winced.

“O-Ow don’t! That stings!” she whined as tears pooled in her eyes.

King hissed and went to bite him but stopped when the girl sniffled. He nuzzled her cheek as Arulius let go.

“Come on.” he pointed towards the black car that pulled around, “let’s go and then I’m calling your parents.”

She gripped her arms and stood firm, “T-Thanks for calling the police b-but you better f-forget you saw me, Mr. Thatcher.” she chuckled nervously, brushing black hair from her face.

“You know who I am?”

“O-Of course I do! Who wouldn’t?! Thatcher tech is my dream job!” she gasped, “I-I was a-at your summer program--” she covered her mouth.

He clicked his tongue, “the one for highschoolers?” he asked. She whined and moved to run but bumped into Florence who huffed.

“Give me your parent’s number.” Arulius sighed.

“I… I don’t…” she chewed her lip. She was quiet.

“Where do you live at least? I’ll drop you off.” he shook his head.

“PARK!” King chirped.

“Hush!” She fretted.

“The park? You live in the park?” Harriet asked as she stood near the teenager’s legs, “That’s not fun!”

“W-well i-I couldn’t stay at m-my apartment…” The teen frowned. She winced when she was pushed towards the car. Whining and trying to deflect she found herself sitting in the back. Harriet crawled in and grinned as Arulius sat in the passenger’s seat.

“No parents. No house. Now I get why a damn kid is running at muggers.” he rubbed his temples with a groan, “name?”

She was quiet.

“I’m not calling you ‘spider king’ name.” he asked a bit firmer.

“S-Solaria…” she mumbled, “K-Kaya Solaria…” she wiped the tears with the back of her gloves, “A-Are you going to turn me in?? I-I don’t mean any harm Mr. Thatcher! I-I promise! I-I normally do fine!!!”

“How old are you?” He opened the window and put a cigarette in his mouth and leaned out as he lit it up. “Under 18 if you were at the company summer program.”

“I… I turned 15 last month…” she admitted ashamed.

“You’re a few years older than me!” Harriet beamed, “I’m 6!” she grinned.

“I’m more like a decade older…” Kaya chuckled nervously. She looked at the tech company CEO. he had pulled a laptop out and made another annoyed click with his tongue. She winced.

“Your father…. Gabriel Solaria?” he leaned back, “the journalist?”

She nodded.

“Damn shame. He was a decent guy. His stories were interesting.” he flicked through the news reports as Florence got in the driver’s seat.

“Done with the cops?” he asked, “stop by the courthouse.”

“Huh?” she started the engine, “courthouse.”

“P-Please! D-Don’t turn me in! I-I’ll b---”

“I need to grab some adoption papers.” he gave a smirk and looked back at the crying teen, “Since it seems Harriet's getting an older sister. But no more crime fighting.” he shifted to cross his arms and put his feet on the dash. “15… fucking 15. You know what I did at 15??”

“Built a rocket engine that was able to lift a treadmill?” she stated with a small smile.

He blinked and snickered, “okay, yes but I was also just. Going to sch--- do you go to school?”

“I-I’ve been attending school still.” she scratched her cheek, “Um… Subcon Public high…” she sank back in the seat. She jumped when Harriet sat on her and protectively put her arms around the younger girl. She shifted her seat belt around her as well when Florence pulled into traffic.

“Well you’ll have to transfer. Is that an issue?”

She shook her head, “U-Um mr. Thatcher… what… are you planning?” she asked softly.

“Adopting a lost child, and making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.” he snickered, “Any school you want to attend?”

“I… i you can’t! Y-You just met me!” she gasped in shock, “I-I’m a freak! I’m an accident! I-I have an alien!”

“Meeee” king stated proudly with a cackle.

“Yes but you know what I see? I see a scared kid who’s trying a little too hard.” he scoffed as she stared, “and we’re going to grab adoption papers, then I’m ordering pizza. Any allergies?”

“EAT EVERYTHING,” King laughed.

“Perfect then.” Arulius huffed, “and you can call me Arulius. Since I guess calling me dad off the bat would be weird.” he began to type on his laptop.

She sat there in confusion. She’d simply gone to help someone. And now her idol was adopting her. Her. a mutant spider freak with a parasitic alien.

She reached and pinched her cheek and whined.

Arulius caught this in the rear view and began to cackle loudly.

“Sorry kiddo. You’re awake.”

“B-But why are you just adopting me and not turning me into a lab or something?!” she asked fearfully.

“Dad’s nicer than he looks~!” Harriet giggled, “Can you shoot webs?”

“Mmhm.” Kaya shifted her gloves off and removed the cuff under her sleeve, “its um. An artificial webbing actually, unless King is the one shooting it. He has a gooey webbing.”

Arulius peeked and reached a hand back. She frowned before handing the cuff to him.

He turned it over in his hands with an impressed whistle, “you construct this?”

She nodded, “I-I like engineering and I figured it’d be useful when king’s tired, i-it’s bio degradable too! But really strong!”

“That's how you swing around right?” Harriet asked with sparkling eyes, “What else can you do?!”

“Well I can walk on walls.” Kaya sighed, “I’m pretty strong too? I can lift a car if I focus. I can move fast?” she frowned, “I’ve never really… tho-- STOP THE CAR!” She gasped.

Florence slammed on the brakes as the truck at the intersection sped by.

“There’s um that. Normally I can semi tell something can happen.” Kaya frowned, “s-sorry for yelling.”

“No, by all means!” Florence laughed, “So. Spider King huh?”

“W-well it’s cuz I’m spider-esque and then King.” she pet the alien who chirped.

“What’s his deal?” Arulius asked but got silence, “alright another day then.”

Florence parked the car as Arulius got out.

“Wait here,” he stated and Kaya just gave a nod. He threw her web shooter back and she caught it with wide eyes, “You’re grounded from crime fighting until you’re 18, but I won’t take your web shooters.”

“Ah… okay…?” she blinked as he shut the door and headed up. She leaned into the seat and just sat there. Very confused.

“Can I call you big sis? Or kai??” Harriet asked the older girl.

“Oh… um… I guess you can call me whatever….”

“Kaya’s a cute name.” Florence chuckled, “Crime fighting though. What a hobby.”

“I… I just wanted to help people…” she admitted softly, “I have these abilities so I thought I needed to…”

“Can you swing with me when we get home? We have a big tree in the yard!” Harriet giggled, “can you sign my daily bugle of you??”

“I’d rather not…” Kaya chuckled.

“Sleepy.” King huffed.

“Exhausted,” Kaya admitted as she shut her eyes. She barely registered she’d fallen asleep.

After a bit Arulius returned with the needed paperwork. He blinked and smiled as he looked in the back seat. The superhero passed out, his daughter sleeping against her.

Kaya’s arm rested around Harriet, and even King was putting his head on the girl.

“Well, not the oddest thing I’ve ever dealt with.” he spoke softly as Florence started the car once more. He flipped through the papers, “seems people had no idea she was on her own. Thought her uncle had her but turns out he lied and was just taking the financial support.” he grumbled, “there’s some messy hearings but I think I can just. Pay it off.” he looked back and gave a smile, “hey free babysitter.” he snickered.

------

He tapped his foot as he crossed his arms with a huff.

“Kaya.”

She looked away ashamed.

“What did I say?”

“No webbing in the house unless you’re watching.” she mumbled.

“And then why is the house covered in webs?” he asked with a twitch of his eyebrow.

“I-I was just playing with Hattie!” she defended. She huffed and he smirked. She seemed a bit more settled in if she was copping an attitude, “I-I’ll clean it up! I promise Mr. Thatcher!”

“Arulius. I told you, use my first name. You’re my kid now you know.” he sighed and headed inside.

She stepped aside and rubbed her neck, looking at the floor, “I-I can’t just… call you your name… that’s rude…”

“You’re my kid now, it’s weirder if you keep calling me “Mr. Thatcher” I’m not asking you to call me dad but.” he chuckled.

“THOT!” king sang loudly as the teen’s face turned red.

“I-I didn’t teach him that! I swear!”

#sketch #digital #ahit au #crossover #ahit prince #ahit snatcher #ahit hat kid #kai #mcu #this has been my brain rot today #btw i have eclispes half figured out as well #she just didnt really fit much into this post cuz its more focused on the family aspect #did y'all know marvel was my 'first' fandom?#like my first ever oc was a superhero oc based on marvel and dc back when i was a kid #i still have her i just dont use her much

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blushie14 · 4 years ago

Text

Drawn To You [Skephalo]

Soulmate AU? …You know what? Heck yeah! Soulmate AU! This will be fun! For this AU, whatever you write/draw on yourself appears on your soulmate. Let’s go!

Growing up, Zak has never communicated with his soulmate by writing on himself. In fact, he felt indifferent about the concept of soulmates for most of his life.

He’s seen a few people who got lucky and actually met up with their soulmate. It’s pretty rare to find your soulmate while you’re young. Most people however can’t find their soulmate that easily, or choose not to write to their soulmate for whatever personal reason.

Now this didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested in finding his soulmate. It’s not like he didn’t care. He never really had anything to say. Besides, whoever his soulmate was never contacted him either.

Zak simply has never felt the need to interact. Not until recently that is. He has been wondering what would happen if he actually tried to write to them.

Some of his friends have shared stories of how they got their soulmate’s number or how their soulmate reached out to them first. It has got him thinking about it a bit.

If he wanted to write on himself to contact his soulmate, what would he even do? Would his soulmate even write anything back? What were they even like? This person who is supposedly destined to have a deep connection with him is probably a complete stranger right now.

So Zak questioned himself, what should he do to capture his soulmate’s attention?

Then Zak had this… crazy idea one day when he was bored. He grabbed a couple of sharpies, went to the bathroom, looked into the mirror, and removed the sharpie cap.

It was a normal Tuesday afternoon. Darryl was going to do a late night stream, but he decided to stream a little early this time with face cam. It was a chill stream on the idiots smp, even if he was the only one online right now. It was pretty nice so far.

“Okay, VanessaTheMuffin! Fifty dollars is too much! Thank you for the dono, but no! Stap it!” He restates the donation out loud. “Do I know if Skeppy is going to get on the smp today? Well um..” He thinks for a moment while scratching the upper part of his lip.

“I am 95% sure that he’s going to join me later on? He might be doing something else at the moment… I wonder what he’s doing.” He hummed to himself before having an idea. “Ooh! Do you think I can build a little Skeppy statue right here?”

He was about to look at the chat before another donation appeared. When the donation was read out loud, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

Lovemepls donated 5 dollars: Yo homie what is on your face lol

“What? What do you mean?” He looked at his chat which was moving surprisingly fast. Trying to read some of the comments, it seems everyone has been saying similar things.

SilverGalaxy: Uhhh you got a little.. somethin… Maddyisadork: A wild mustache appeared! DeezVibez: MUSTACHE LMAO

“Mustache?” He took a moment to open his stream on another tab and was bewildered at the sight. A mustache was messily drawn on him with sharpie above his upper lip. “The fudge?! What is this?!”

Darryl covered his mouth in confusion. “How in the world did- ..Where did this come from?!” Puzzled, Darryl couldn’t connect the dots on how this mustache suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

He felt this strange itching sensation around his left eye, similar to the sensation he glossed over earlier above his upper lip.

Rubbing his left eye, he looked at his facecam again. “AH! Oh my goodness!” Darryl freaked out when a drawing of a monocle around his eye faded in right before his very eyes. “What is going on?!”

Tumbling Croissant: OMG AHAHAHA ADoseOfLove: Wow your soulmate has great taste! Memesnotfound: Aww your soulmate is drawing on you lol

That’s when it clicked… His soulmate.

“My soulmate is.. oh my goodness.” Darryl didn’t even know what to say or think. He has never heard anything from his soulmate before. Then the one time they decided to reach out to him, they decided to draw on his face?!

“Is my own soulmate seriously pranking me!? They even had to do it while I was streaming out of all the muffiny times!” He sighed. “I’m so done.”

Darryl chuckled a bit after the shock and confusion faded. It’s true that he was a little annoyed, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find this even a little funny.

AwesomePeter23 donated 10 dollars: Your soulmate is something special lol. I already love them and I wanna see them draw more.

“No they- Don’t say that! This is unacceptable!” Darryl crossed his arms and pouted. “I’ve never met my soulmate before, but whoever they are I hereby declare them a complete raggamuffin!” He shouted out and suddenly felt the tip of his nose itch.

“I swear if they added something new..” Once again he looked at his facecam and found a red dot drawn on his nose. “Oh come on! Are you flipping serious?!”

Pyro_Plays: CLOWNBOYHALO!!! OwOStawws: PFFFT ComradeinArms: WRITE THEM BACK PLEASE I BEG

“You know what? I’m grabbing a pen.”

Zak was staring at the mirror laughing at himself a little. “This is so stupid. I look so stupid! Why am I doing this?!” Despite questioning his life decisions, he thought about what he should draw next.

He reached for a marker in order to make himself look more clownlike until he felt his left hand itch. As he was scratching his palm he found writing on his hand.

“WHY!? >:0”

Zak couldn’t help but burst out laughing at this. The fact that they decided to draw a little emoticon just made this even funnier. “Oh my god what have I done?!” He grabbed the sharpie and giggled while writing out his response.

Meanwhile, Darryl was still streaming, looking at his left palm. A message appeared on his arm and he read it outloud.

“Because I wanna make you look pretty?! What kind of excuse is that?! I- This little rapscallion! I can’t believe them!”

King Kitty donated 5 dollars: You lookin fabulous there bad!

“You are all muffin heads..” Darryl grumbled. He wrote a little angry emoticon on himself in response to his soulmate. To his surprise he didn’t get a response back, but Zak suddenly texted him that he was going on teamspeak right now.

“Oh great. Guys, guess who decided to show up?” Darryl smiled and covered his face. “Is this even a good time or not? I don’t even know!” As soon as he moved Zak into his teamspeak, he could hear him giggling far from his mic. “Hey Skeppy. I’m streaming right now, and you aren’t going to believe what happened to me!”

“Bad I did something stupid.” Zak said quickly as his giggles died down.

“Oh wow, what else is new?” He laughed a bit. “Okay sorry Skeppy, I was just joking.”

“Wooow, okay. I was gonna ask you for help but now I’m-”

“Nonono Skeppy you know I’m just kidding please don’t leave.”

“I know! I know, but Baaaaad I think they’re mad at meeee.”

“Who’s mad at you? What did you do?” Laughter poured out from Zak before he responded. “What did you do Skeppy?!”

“Can you help me make them not mad? I actually don’t know what to say next all they did was send me a dumb emoticon thingy.”

“Yes. I can help Skeppy. Can you just tell me what happened?”

“Okay So- You know how I said that I’ve never written to my soulmate before?”

“Uhuh? Wait..” Darryl gasped. “Did you?”

“Yes and I did what was probably the stupidest thing I could’ve done.”

“Oh my goodness, what did you do? I mean, it can’t be as silly as what my soulmate did.”

Zak’s eyes widened in surprise. “You heard from your soulmate already?!”

“Uhh.” Darryl looked at his face again and just laughed a little. “Yeah, they recently did. What did you even say to them anyways?”

“Oh I didn’t really say anything to them at first. I kinda… I kinda drew on their face.” He nervously laughed.

…Wait a minute.

“You.. You what?” Darryl’s casual light hearted voice suddenly turned soft and serious as a look of disbelief was on his face.

“I drew some things on my face and then they got mad at me. I said something else afterwards but-”

“Waitwaitwait.” Darryl’s heart was starting to race, but he needed to confirm this before he got his hopes up even further. “What did you draw on them? I need to know.”

Zak got confused for a moment before answering. “Uhhh well I made them look like they had a mustache. And then I drew the monocle to go with it. After that I just drew a teeny little red dot on the nose… I was running out of ideas.”

Everything went silent as Darryl stared at his screen, red in the face. He was looking at the chat and surely enough it had exploded as everyone was losing their minds.

“Bad? …Are you there?”

Mashyapotatoes: OH MY GOD NO WAY! NO WAY!!!!! Disoriented Vine: Well shit this is actually happening?! Amber: WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!

There was almost too much for Darryl to process. His soulmate drew on his face live on stream. His soulmate unknowingly revealed himself to him AND thousands of fans. His soulmate has no idea why he’s suddenly so silent.

His soulmate… is Zak.

The situation was so unbelievably ridiculous. Darryl, being overwhelmed with shock and delight he just.. broke down into silent laughter, leaning forward as he covered his face with both hands.

Zak, still being confused and oblivious to the situation, got concerned. “The heck? Bad?…Are you okay?! What happened?! I actually can’t tell if you’re laughing or crying!”

Darryl couldn’t really tell either. He sat up for a moment and tried to speak, but to no avail as he started laughing again, facing down on his desk with a thud.

“Oh my god.” Zak laughed a little. “Seriously, what happened?! Are you okay?!”

Darryl eventually calmed down enough to barely speak. “Skeppy, look at my stream!”

“Okay? Why?”

“Take ONE good look at my face! ..And then you’ll see why!” He shouted out.

That was when the realization hit Zak as he felt his face warming up “No… There is no way that-..” He has never searched anything up so fast in his entire life.

When he saw Darryl’s facecam, Zak burst into hysterics when he saw the same thing drawn on Darryl’s face.

“Look at what you did to me Skeppy! Look at what you did!” Darryl shrieked, laughing and facing down on his desk with a thud once again.

“NO- DUDE- NO FUCKING WAY!”

Darryl, being in hysterics as well, barely muttered out a “language.”

“AND THE ENTIRE STREAM JUST- OH MY GOD NOHOHOOO!!”

“Skeppy whyyy!! …I look ridiculous Skeppyyyy!!”

It was complete hysteria for 2 minutes straight until both of them finally started to calm down, taking deep breaths.

“Oh my god, dude I-” Zak spoke out. “I don’t even know where to begin.. you’re my soulmate! What do you even think of it!?”

Darryl sheepishly smiled. “Actually I.. I’ve always kind of secretly hoped that it would be you.”

“..Really?” Zak asked in a soft tone, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“Yes! I-” Darryl looked at his stream. “Hang on a second. Sorry guys, I’m gonna to stop streaming right here. Maybe I’ll stream again later and if not, tomorrow. I hope you all understand.”

ImForeverScreeching: Awwwww nooooooo PenguinRaven: Awww! Yeah we understand! <3 Lemon_Lime49: I just got back, why does bad look like that?

“Byeeee!” Darryl ended the stream.

“Dude, everyone on every social media is going to explode. What have I done?!”

“Oh my goodness you muffin head. I’m already silencing my Twitter notifications temporarily.”

The both of them chuckled and stayed silent for a moment. Zak was letting it fully sink in that Darryl is his soulmate. “I’m.. finding it really hard to believe that it’s you..”

“Why? ..Are you not happy about it?”

“Wh- NO! Nononono, I’m happy I’m VERY happy about it.” Zak quickly made that clear. “I just never thought that it would be you! I’m really happy that it’s you though. I cannot think of anyone more perfect..”

“Awww Geppy!” Darryl smiled. “I’m really happy about it too. Like, you have no idea how happy I am. You may have been such a muffin head, but you’re always my muffin head..”

Zak giggled a bit. “I really really want to see you now..”

“Me too.. Wanna plan to meet up ASAP?”

Two weeks have passed since it’s been revealed that the two were soulmates, and it was pretty wild. As they predicted, the information spread like wildfire in the fandom. Skephalo shippers definitely had a field day with that too.

Zak and Darryl took a break from making content only for a few days, but were talking to each other even more often. They slowly went back to making content and started telling their fans they were finally meeting up.

After planning everything out, Zak got on a flight to meet up and stay with Bad for a week. As soon as he departed from the plane, he felt a little nervous but extremely excited.

He roamed around the airport looking for Darryl. A few minutes went by until Zak felt a familiar itch on his left palm and looked to find a message.

“Hi <3”

Zak quickly looked around him until he saw Darryl smiling and waving in front of him. He smiled wide and started to run excitingly towards him. Darryl was surprised for a moment before raising his arms, bracing for impact.

“Skeppy!” Zak almost tackled him as he wrapped his arms around him as Darryl laughed and hugged back.

Skeppy giggled. “Did you really bring a pen with you just so you can write hi as soon as you see me?!”

“Hey, I thought it was fitting okay? You muffin head…” Darryl pouted.

Zak didn’t move away from the hug. He melts into the embrace, hugging Darryl closer as he spoke out softly. “Well.. hi..”

Darryl smiled and stared at Zak as a warm and comforting feeling washed over them. He didn’t want to let go and just wanted to keep him in his arms forever. “Oh my goodness, you just got here and I already don’t want you to leave in seven days..”

“Nooo, don’t think about that right now! I’m just happy to be here now..”

“Yeah..” Darryl wrapped his arms around Zak even more. “Me too.”

[End]

#skephalo #badboyhalo #skeppy #fanfiction #my writing #soulmate au

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exorcqism · 1 year ago

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘”

𝐂𝐖;; mature content. afab!reader, stoner!choso, non-curse/sorcerer AU, no uses of y/n. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓;; choso had just gotten home from work, a pocket full of tips as usual. the male was pretty tired and he was ready to relax. he remembered that you wanted to watch a horror movie with him, so he made sure to make himself look less tired, swallowing his pride and fighting with his emotions. all for you. but once again…he can’t bring himself to do it. but what happens when he sees you with another man?

₊❏❜ ⋮ part two ⌒

. ݁ ࣪ ، ⌗ masterlist

⌗ ˖⃗ 穿血 — 𝒕.𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 @sad-darksoul @aiyaaayei @a1-ic3

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 2.2OK

dark mode recommended

do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; ya don’t know how happy i am. my pretty princess choso is okay and now he havin girl problems in the story 😭 im glad ya liking this though. hope ya enjoyyyy. reblog to support meeee and if you want more :D (also lmk if you wanna be tagged for possible upcoming parts if i decide to continue)

another note: GO READ THIS and request more storiessss,, my writers block is kicking my ass

“come on, get to it,” choso clapped, trying to get yuji to make his way upstairs. the little boy sighed, getting off of the couch and going upstairs with his older brother still following.

“can’t i stay up for a couple more hours?” itadori tilted his head, looking up at choso. the male sighed.

“you have school and you need to be in bed,” choso advised. though, he was correct and he was just trying to help yuji, he wanted to keep up his plans with you instead of leaving you to watch the movie on your own. “i have a doctors appointment in the morning also. we should be going to sleep.”

“wait why, are you okay?”

“i’ll be okay. it’s just an annual. and you have one coming too, so be ready for that.” choso smiled at his little brother’s consideration for his health. the male picked yuji up and decided to tickle his sides, making the boy laugh loudly.

“okay, now get to bed,” choso announced abruptly, putting the boy back down onto the floor. like before, yuji threw his arms around choso, telling him good night and running up to his room.

after that, choso would take a shower, deciding that he’d wash his hair also. once he finished, he’d dry himself off, shivering from the cold air hitting his skin as he walked back to his room.

back in his room, choso would close the door and start to clean up. making his bed, reorganizing his closet and tossing out things that he deemed useless at the time.

he’d pull the towel from around his waist, leaving him exposed for a moment before he’d quickly put on some clothes. his usual grey joggers. he didn’t even bother putting on a shirt.

choso plopped down onto his bed, finally happy that he could relax. it wasn’t long before his eyes started to close and he drifted off to sleep.

the day’s events quickly faded into nothing but fragments of his memory. even his promises slipped his mind. the male was lying on his stomach, hugging his pillow as if he had nothing to worry about in life.

then it hit him.

his eyes snapped open and he quickly sat up on the bed, remembering you. choso just groaned. he didn’t want to think of you right now. especially when he was just trying to fight his emotions.

you were probably staring at your screen with a slightly disappointed expression when you realized that choso stood you up after nervously agreeing to watch a movie with you.

maybe you weren’t disappointed. you probably had a boyfriend to replace him if he didn’t follow through with his plans with you. he didn’t even know why he was so hung up on you. you had the poor boy losing his mind.

choso was eyeing his laptop that was sitting on the desk, thinking if he should do something to satisfy his worries—if he should call you again.

‘call her? i said that i would do it.’ he thought. ‘no, don’t do that. you’d be wasting your energy. she probably has a boyfriend….you got played…like a fucking idiot.’

choso was now staring at the ceiling with his music playing, smoking a blunt while tears of frustration began to form in his eyes.

he had never been in love before. if the concept was ever brought up to him, he’d shrug it off and not participate in the conversation because he doesn’t know what it feels like to be in a relationship.

this whole situation was upsetting him. it hadn’t even been a week yet and feelings were swelling up in his mind. maybe if he just skipped his break or kept quiet, he wouldn’t be feeling like this.

suddenly, he hears his door opening. as the entrance of his room opens, the smoke from his joint slip out.

“are you okay?” yuji asked. choso looked up, following the voice and tracing it back to his little brother. the male sighed and just took a drag of his joint.

“go to bed, yuji…” he mumbled.

yuji climbed into bed with choso and sat beside him. “how come you’re crying? i never seen you cry before.”

“i—no, you’re too young to understand it. i don’t wanna tell you and you don’t get it.” choso took a drag of his blunt again before wiping away his tears.

yuji went silent for a moment before speaking up again. “i can still listen. just tell me what’s wrong.” the small boy offered. choso looked down before taking a breath.

“i like this girl so much…” choso began, “but every time i wanna interact, i get nervous and i always think about the worst case scenario. another thing, i don’t have time to be in love with anyone. i’d probably be a horrible partner anyway.”

“was it the lady at the store?” yuji asked.

“yes…”

“i knew it. you do like her,” yuji smiled, “um…i think you should still talk to her. she’s really nice—and she smells like strawberries.”

‘how do you even remember that?’ choso grimaced.

“she probably has a boyfriend. it doesn’t matter…”

“did you ask her…?”

choso flushed, “no, i didn’t ask. i don’t wanna ask personal questions to somebody i just met…it’s weird.”

“ask her,” yuji said.

choso sighed and nodded, taking in the advice.

a week passed by and choso had been thinking for a while. no call from you and you got nothing from him. it was radio silence in both directions. it made him feel worse but better at the same time.

tonight, the male was working, showing off how good of a bartender he was with that stale expression on his face. this was the first time he had actually shown off his skill because he was terribly shy.

from a distance, he noticed you walking in with another guy. he wanted to laugh because he already knew that would happen.

‘i was right. my intuition almost never fails.’

choso started to feel the irritation rising up in him despite his dead expression. his body was hot with anger but pain because he knew he couldn’t react like the way he wanted…

because you weren’t together.

the slit across his nose that he was so insecure about, neatly covered with a bandage began to bleed. the thick crimson fluid streamed down his cheeks like tears and slowly down to his lips.

his fingers were stained with the crimson fluid once he touched his face. he quickly made his way to the bathroom, trying not to be seen by anyone.

he stared at himself in the mirror, blood still streaming down his face and hitting the counter as he desperately tried to clean the mess off of his face.

suddenly the door opens. choso covered his nose again with a tissue when he turned around and spotted you walking in. the two of you made eye contact.

“what happened, are you okay?” you walked up to choso and you were about to take him by his wrists to move his hands that had been covering his bloody nose but it was obvious that he didn’t want you to see that.

‘please don’t…’

“nothing—it’s…just a nose bleed.” choso was still covering his nose, blood now streaming down his hands, making a bit more of a mess. you managed to move his hands, revealing the cut that he was so insecure about. you could see his cheeks reddening out of embarrassment now that you seen the one thing that he had been hiding from the world.

you would grab some face wipes from your purse and you bring choso down to your level to wipe the crimson fluid from his face, flinching as the cool wipe traveled over the bridge of his nose.

“sorry,” you whispered.

“no, it’s fine…i think.” choso replied lowly.

“are you sure this is just a regular nose bleed? this is so bad. i never seen somebody bleed this hard unless they busted their ass on the sidewalk.” you comment as you take a bandage out and sticking it onto the bridge of his nose like before.

“it happens all the time, i’m fine.” he replies. “that’s part of the reason why i keep it covered up.”

choso looked down and realized that you were holding his hands now but it was only because you had been wiping the blood off of them.

“you should probably go home, right? you don’t wanna have blood everywhere and then you pass out.” you say. “that’ll be a bit embarrassing."

when choso heard your giggling to lighten up the mood, he smiled a little—it was an awkward smile. the male didn’t smile too often in public or in general. the action felt so foreign to him.

“yeah, i think i’ll go home for the night,” choso says. “and i’m sorry i didn’t call you the other night…i just got-” he stops talking, thinking of a proper word to say. choso didn’t wanna tell you the whole truth just yet. “i just got wrapped up in my head that’s all. i overthink a lot.”

“oh, no. it’s okay, i understand. i was looking forward to talking to you again but i didn’t wanna be a bother because you just seem like a busy guy. always working and taking care of your little brother.” your hands slowly release choso’s and once again, you’re making eye contact with him. you blink when you find yourself looking at his lips.

“yeah…that too-” choso mumbled, “thank you for understanding. i mean, we haven’t spoken for a week, i thought you’d be mad at me.”

“no, i’m not mad.” you said, a bit stunned that he would even think that you were angry at him. “it’s my fault, i probably should’ve checked on you sooner instead of leaving you to your thoughts.”

“i don’t really mind is okay.” choso mumbled.

“hey, how about we do that movie night tonight? i haven’t watched it by myself yet.” you offer, smiling a little.

“you aren’t gonna have that guy there with you, right?” he said quietly. you look behind you and smiled.

“nah, he’s just a friend. don’t worry about that, we’ll have our time together.” you assured. behind your reply, you were a bit surprised to hear him ask about the guy you came to the bar with. though you didn’t have any feelings towards the guy, he definitely liked you.

hence why you’re on this “date” with him….

“i’ll see you after work, then.” choso said and you nodded.

“aw, i thought you were going home.” you teased.

“i gotta feed the house,” choso replied as he began to walk towards the bathroom door. “i can’t come home empty handed.”

and with that, he exited the bathroom.

eventually, you do the same, waving to choso as he made drinks at the bar area. he’d pause for a moment to wave back at you, making you smile.

later that night, choso gets on facetime with you again with a cigarette between his lips. he had on a white shirt with a pair of basketball shorts. his hair wasn’t tied up like he had it all the time. it was down.

the two of you were watching a movie called ‘pearl’, which you suggested because you wanted to have an arsenal of movies before your night ended. you didn’t wanna just watch ‘midsommar’ and hang up.

“she fucked her momma up, not gone lie.” you comment as you watched the movie. choso was pretty immersed, eyes wide was he watched the murder of the main character’s mother.

“yeah…that’s kinda fucked up.” choso mumbled. the male threaded his fingers through his hair and took a drag from his cigarette, trying to keep himself awake.

“oh! that reminds me,” you start, pausing the movie just as the next scene began to play. “there’s a halloween party next week because you know….doesn’t that sound fun? you wanna come?”

“oh—no, i can’t. i have to work and the neighbors aren’t gonna be able to watch yuji because they’re going on a trip and they won’t be back until the second week of november…i don’t have anyone to take care of him.” choso explained, his answer prolonging as more reasons to not go to said party started to come up. you smile at his reaction.

“come on, kids his age will be there. it’s not like it’s a full on adult party. the kids’ll be upstairs and we’ll be downstairs having our fun. and you told me your boss is a chill dude, he should be fine with you calling off.”

“well—well, yeah, i guess but i don’t have a costume and i don’t go to parties. it’ll be awkward and i’ll wanna go home and—”

“choso,” you interject, “it’s okay. just stick by me and when you feel the need to, you can check on yuji. and you have time to find a costume, trust me. so…do you wanna come?”

choso put the cigarette back between his lips and sighed, rethinking all the possibilities and the pros of going to this party.

“um…yeah, sure. i’ll come.”

“good,” you smile before unpausing the movie.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

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novantinuum · 4 years ago

Link

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (I have upped the rating in consideration of sensitive topics I aim to depict later on.)

Words: 6.4K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which history is written on the walls.

Some of my other fics have been showing up in the tags when I use the link post option, so I’m doing an experiment this time. Fingers crossed it shows! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

Chapter 12: Beta, Part 3

Having long since heeded Ruby’s advice to take a mental break, Steven sits criss-cross with his back pressed against the hodgepodge aquarium. If you ask him, this position is a two-in-one miracle, allowing him both an unobstructed view of the doorway, and sparing him from the deep rooted horror of the creepy dismantled plush still floating an aimless arc through the tank. He loves Peridot to death, but good golly, this latest meep morp is deeply unsettling. He shudders at the mere thought of its water-logged stuffing oozing out from the seams, and then— inhaling deep through his nose— steers his focus back to the phone clasped tightly between his fidgety fingers.

Back to the story, you doofus.

With nothing better to do for the moment and a hyperactive mind to satiate, he’s finally started to read the Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic that Connie sent him a link to a few days before. True to her words, it’s super, super good. Well written, great characterization, and best of all, the author keeps throwing in hints of future romance between Lisa and Archimicarus! Considering that, he’s almost surprised Connie likes this fic so much. She’s normally not much of a shipper. To be fair though, romance definitely isn’t the point of the story. Instead, it’s an AU focused on the mystery of the main character’s origins.

He can’t help but let out a sympathetic sigh as— in chapter 5– Lisa tries to calmly explain to her fellow Stonehearth Coven members that somehow her father, the revered founder of the coven, used to be a prince of the wicked Arcane Court. Most of her once-close friends don’t swallow the news well. As a result, Lisa is left alone to seek the truth of her father’s past, with no allies except her trusted familiar at her side. Lip quivering, he presses his thumb solid against his phone’s screen for a while, as if yearning to reach a healing hand beyond the barrier between fiction and reality and let the young witch know she’s not alone, that he sees and supports her. He makes a mental note to thank Connie profusely for sending along this really good fic, and presses on to the next chapter.

He’s halfway to the end of it when Peridot returns.

For someone who appeared super frazzled by Lapis’s terror-struck outbursts the last time she stood at his side, she sure seems fit as a fiddle now, walking with a slight bounce in her step as she crosses past the fence line and onto the property. At least, he assumes she is. He can’t help but immediately doubt this assessment when she spots him sitting against the inner wall of the barn with that piercing focus of hers and bounds through the doorway like a Gem fleeing the apocalypse.

“Steven, Steven, Steven, Steven!” she cries as she runs to his side, flapping her arms urgently.

Practically tossing his phone to the ground to free his hands for combat, he leaps to his feet so fast that his head grows woozy. His rose-thorned shield shimmers into tangible existence in front of his barred fist.

“What, what is it?” he exclaims, the pounding of his heart devolving into an untamable cacophony as all his darkest fears rear their ugly heads at once. “Is- is it Lapis? Did she leave anyways?”

“Uh, no…?”

“Or, or, or- are we under attack?!”

“Steven, I—“

“Who’s here for me this time?” he blurts, grabbing his friend’s shoulders. “Is it Homeworld? Jasper? The Diamonds? Tell meeee!” he whines, roughly shaking her.

“I- No one? It’s no one!” Peridot exclaims when her head finally stops jostling back and forth under his force, waves of confusion coloring her expression. “I’m… just happy to be back?”

His cheeks burn red as he drinks in her obvious statement and eventually catches his breath. He lets go of her. “O-oh,” he stammers, willing the shield floating before him to disappear into glimmers of light and desperately wishing he could do the same at this precise moment of existence. “Okay. Glad to see you back! Did, uh… did you find Lapis?”

She nods in confirmation, but visibly deflates a little at the reminder of her roommate. “Yeah, she’s perched in a tree in the woods. She said she wanted some ‘alone time,’” she emphasizes with air quotes.

Steven clasps his fingers together in front of him as he lets this news sink in, digits tussling without end for the most comfortable alignment. Bleeding heart that he is, he hates the idea of letting anyone be alone, especially after a revelation this jarring, but he must admit that he himself found some comfort in solitude the night his human half took for the beach, inert diamond in hand. If anything else, it was nice to retreat from all the noise, to allow himself the opportunity to form his own opinions about the situation. Perhaps it’ll be beneficial for her, too.

“That’s understandable,” he says, glancing out the barn door towards the forest his friend is taking refuge in. “She’s been through a lot.”

He squats to pick up his phone from the floorboards then, frowning as he notices a fresh crack on the glass at the corner of the screen. Knowing that— despite his desperate desires— there’s nothing he can do to fix this right now, he shoves it in his pocket and pushes against his knees to stand up. The bottom of his shirt catches on his arm as he does so, briefly exposing the unfamiliar facets of his rotated gem. Peridot’s brows nearly shoot above the upper rim of her visor.

“So,” she begins, nodding towards his stomach. “Your gem.”

With a tired sigh, he tugs his shirt back down. Boy, does he already know where this conversation is heading, and boy, is he sick of having to walk everyone through it. “Yup,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ and getting ready to deploy the exasperated eye roll.

“All this time everyone thought you were a hybrid quartz, but now you’re telling me…”

“...that I’m actually a dia—“

“...that I, Peridot, certified Kindergartener, a skilled specialist on every variety of Gem to ever exist, was wrong??”

“Hold on, what?”

She holds her hand over the diamond emblazoned on her chest as she passionately continues, wholly oblivious to Steven’s bemusement. “I was the brightest Gem of my cut back on Homeworld, and yet somehow I mistook a perfectly formed diamond for a quartz! Ah, hahahah!” Eyes glinting with what he can only describe as a borderline feral energy, she moves to clutch at the sides of her head, thick tufts of lemon yellow spilling out from between her fingers. “Oh, my stars. I’ve lost my touch!”

“Wait, who’s out of touch?” Ruby’s curious voice chimes from nearby. Overjoyed to see her again, Steven whirls to face her with a huge grin as she enters the barn and lounges against one of the support beams, propping a hand on her hip.

“I- it’s nothing important,” Peridot mutters, flushing as she smooths her hair back into place.

Immediately making note of the hint of shame dancing across her features, he nods. “Yeah, we were just chit-chatting! Hey, how’s Amethyst doing, though? You went to talk to her, right?”

Ruby huffs in frustration at the mention of the quartz Gem, grinding her boots against the floor so hard that for a second he’s genuinely concerned she might spark a fire under her very feet. “Tried to. But then she slashed her whip towards me and said I couldn’t help her, so ‘go away!’” she exclaims, throwing her arms in the air. “Can you believe it? I’m trying to provide some love and support, and she, she just- tells me to scram!”

“Aw, that’s not very nice,” he says with a frown, feeling his heart pulse in sympathy as she begins to pace back and forth across the wooden slats, grumbling under her breath.

“What’s her problem today, anyways?” Peridot asks, crossing her arms. “She’s usually much more amicable.”

Steven nibbles at the inside of his lip as he considers the concerning downward trajectory of Amethyst’s recent behavior. Sure, she can sometimes get snippy when she’s in a bad place, but this past week her outward attitude has built into a continuous problem. He himself has been on the receiving end of her acerbic words more than a few times, such as that afternoon they goaded each other into a duel at the Sky Arena, and that barbed retort she pierced him with at the fountain. Then there’s her fight with Pearl, her resulting emotional seclusion, today’s callous treatment of Peridot, Lapis, Ruby…

He desperately wishes he could pin all the blame for this on a single person, a single event, (because oh, wouldn’t that make his life so much easier), but when he tracks the evidence of her unrest it becomes blindingly clear that her problems began long before Rose’s betrayal was revealed.

“Well, beyond all the, uh… latest stuff, she’s been super insecure about Jasper,” he offers. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet with his flip flops rhythmically clapping against his heels, he rummages his brain for the easiest way to explain the root of the situation. “Basically, Jasper took Amethyst out in a fight a week ago, and ever since that she’s been training super hard a whole lot. I think she’s desperate for a rematch, to prove she’s good enough.”

“Wait, wait, wait—“ The green Gem holds her hands out, palms open. “You’re telling me she’s got an inferiority complex about Jasper? With where she came from?” She lets out a raucous peel of laughter, holding her sides. “Oh Amethyst! That’s ridiculous! She was made way better than that clod.”

He squints at her inquisitively, crossing his arms as he tries to make sense of the interesting new conversation thread that just flowed out of her mouth. “But what do you mean, where she came from? Isn’t she from Homeworld, like you?”

Ruby freezes in place upon hearing this question, clear worry threaded through her creased browline. Her mouth bobs open as if she’s gearing up to answer his question, but amidst her hesitation— a timidness that, the more he thinks about it, is bizarrely out of place from the bold, confident Gem Steven’s gotten to know from all the other times Garnet’s unfused— Peridot beats her to the charge.

“Pfft, are you kidding? She emerged right here from Earth, and not even from its good kindergarten!”

He slams his hands against his cheeks, internally reeling from this revelation. “There’s other kindergartens?”

“Well, sure! There was supposed to be one in every facet. Until the rebellion put a swift end to the Diamonds’ colonization efforts, that is,” she adds quickly, adjusting her visor. “There’s Amethyst’s Prime Kindergarten in Facet Five, but there’s also the Beta Kindergarten in Facet Nine. And that piece of work is where Jasper was made… poorly!” Giggling in excitement, she rapidly shuffles her feet beneath her. The glimmer of light reflected in her eyes is bright enough to rival a distant star. “You guys have to see it!”

Steven balls up his hand at his chin, deliberating. He has to admit, after the recent emotional upheaval that he now can’t help but associate with this place, he really likes the idea of spending time somewhere other than the barn.

“Huh. Might be worth asking if she wants to check it out,” he says with a shrug. “Ruby, you in?”

The Gem in question nibbles at the corner of her lip, humming low under her breath as she considers his offer. A small bead of sweat hangs above her brow. Sporting a good natured grin, he nudges her in the side with his elbow, hoping he can cheer her up a bit.

“A little more time with your favorite Steven and Peri? Eh? Come on, you know you wanna!”

“Do it, do it!” Peridot chimes in, pumping her fists up and down.

He eagerly joins in with her rallying cry, and in no time at all they’re both circling around their friend chanting those very words. Ruby stands center with her arms crossed and her back erect, desperately trying not to break her stoic facade with a smile. It’s ultimately futile, of course. After all, no one can resist the good ol’ Universe charm forever!

“All right, fine, fine, I’ll come,” she finally acquiesces, and with a smirk, plants both her hands on her hips. “After all, someone’s gotta keep an eye on all you trouble makers!”

Now that Ruby’s officially on board, the trio ventures outside to find Amethyst, Steven and Peridot giggling as they begin to skip around the perimeter of the barn side by side, arms linked together. Brushing a few flyaway curls out of his face amidst the comforting breeze, he glances over his shoulder when they reach the first corner to make sure they’re not leaving their friend in the dust. And thankfully she’s right on their tail, but he can’t help but notice her enthusiasm seems muted. He presses his lips together in concern. Does she not want to go with them? Is he only forcing her into this? His stomach twists with guilt as he ponders this quandary further. It’s not his intention to be pushy, but maybe— between coercing Amethyst to take a break and accompany him to the barn, begging Lapis to stay, and now, nudging Ruby to come to the Kindergarten— he’s only being selfish and manipulative about all this. He thought he was bringing people together, but what if he’s wrong? What if he’s only straining relationships, tainting the already tense atmosphere, making everything worse?

(What if this is the same sort of excuse his mom Rose used to make?)

With Amethyst slashing her whip at a few old rusted cans in the clearing before them, however, there’s no time to waste drowning within what-ifs. It’s like that day he learned about Garnet’s future vision for the first time: if he lets himself get tangled up in the possibilities he’ll never truly live. He sighs under his breath, lips pursed. Of course. Garnet’s right even when she isn’t here. As much as he’d love to go crazy psychoanalyzing the impact of every solitary step he makes, at this point he’s made his choices and whatever happens, happens. It’s time to live now.

Initially, the purple Gem is rather indignant at the idea that the three of them were gossiping about her behind her back— eyes clouded with hurt— but once Peridot explains that the point of their proposed Kindergarten field trip is to check out Jasper’s no-doubt lame hole, she blinks away her bitterness and seems to eagerly climb aboard.

“Sure, why not? ‘S not like there’s anything more fun than roasting your enemies.”

“I strongly agree,” Peridot says, nodding with pride.

But before the newly expanded Shorty Squad can begin their journey, there’s something Steven really needs to address. Something that’s been troubling him all day. Nervous butterflies filling his stomach, he leans up close to his sibling-in-crime and whispers so the others don’t hear:

“Amethyst, can I talk to you for a bit before we leave?”

Her expression curdles, but thankfully, unlike in Ruby’s unfortunate account, she doesn’t make a move towards her whip to push him away. Instead, she meets him with a gaze so hardened and difficult to read that his eyes can’t help but drift away, perhaps a little intimidated by the intensity of this contact.

“Yeah, I guess,” she mutters eventually. She flicks her wrist up at the other two, gesturing for them to get a move on. “Go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

Ruby and Peridot nod, the red Gem with a good deal more sympathy drawn on her face, (but for him or Amethyst?), and promptly set off towards the warp pad. He continues to watch until they disappear beyond the curve of the grassy hillside, both conversing comfortably. The last he hears before the warp shoots its cyan stream of light into the sky is a hooting laugh from Ruby. Despite how non-ideal this visit has been so far, he can’t help the smile stretching across his cheeks, or how his chest grows all warm and fuzzy. It’s really nice to see Peridot getting along so well with the others now. She’s made such huge strides in the past few months.

Something metallic clangs behind him. Flinching, Steven whirls around. A crumpled, abused soda can lays overturned by the side of the barn. Amethyst— arms crossed tight just under her gem and her hair more spiked and untamed than usual— glares at that poor hunk of tin as if it’s solely to blame for all of this galaxy’s problems. She moves to lean against the barn’s outer wall and peers at him expectantly, like a troubled child expecting judgement from a parental figure.

“So. You wanted to talk,” she says, tone clipped.

“I… wanted to be honest,” he mutters, threading his fingers together as he grasps for how best to word this. “Amethyst… I know you’ve been going through some hard stuff lately. I know everything that’s happened in the past few days doesn’t help. But you’ve been so inconsiderate of like, everyone here.” He swings his arm in a wide gesture towards the barn. “Peridot and Lapis didn’t deserve the way you treated them earlier.”

No response.

Steven frowns, and— a glimmer of quiet frustration bubbling deep within him, the sort he’d never admit to out loud but can’t help but harbor whenever he catches wind of small injustices that he can never seem to fix— scratches an burgeoning itch at the nape of his neck. He… oh stars, he’s going about this completely wrong, isn’t he? He’s being too confrontational. Hmm. Maybe he should try a new angle. Time for take two.

“I know you only acted that way because you’re hurting and don’t wanna think about it,” he continues, “but please, you don’t have to box your emotions away like that. I wanna help. I wanna listen.”

Slowly, gently, he moves to place a hand on her shoulder. It feels like a small victory when she doesn’t shift upon his touch.

“Believe me, you’re not alone in feeling this way.”

Again, nothing. She’s not even looking at him right now, and her jaw’s locked. Even her form feels tense under his fingers, with hard light pulsing back and forth under her illusory skin at an alarmingly unusual pace.

He sighs, gaze dropping towards the ground, towards the battered can she kicked aside earlier. “I’m worried, y’know? But... I understand if you’re not ready to talk… about Jasper, and—“

“Oh, hoh! That’s rich!” she explodes suddenly, jerking her arm away. “You seriously wanna bury your head in the sand and pretend this is just about Jasper?”

He tiptoes away from her rush of anger, eyes growing puffy. “I—“

“You wanna know how I feel, Steven? About your mom, and the whole awful mess she made? Do you really? ‘Cause I don’t have a single CLUE what I should feel anymore!”

Amethyst pauses for breath amidst her tirade, briefly locking sight with him with a glimmer of hurt reflected in her violet irises, showing that deep underneath all those twisted layers of anger and resentment she’s just another scared, abandoned Gem like him.

“Rose was everything to me, okay?” she says, throwing her palms wide for emphasis. “And all this time, I thought she was the one Crystal Gem who could be real with me. The only one who wouldn’t sugarcoat things or treat me like a baby. ‘Oh, you’re perfect the way you are, Amethyst!’” she coos in a fake, silky-sweet voice, cupping her cheeks as she openly mocks the very Gem who gave her life so he could exist. “You’re such a strong little quartz, you mean so much to me!’ Hah!”

She pauses to force a bitter laugh, clenching her hands into insufferably tight fists.

“And wasn’t that just a huge load of silt,” she spits, staring off into the rosy distance as if it were but a cruel mirage, the pain more than evident in the taut features of her face. “All along I thought she was this great, faultless person, just like you did. Except she wasn’t. She’s a liar, like everyone else. I’m worthless, just like Jasper said… and Rose knew it.”

Hesitantly, compassionately— heart breaking for the internal struggle she’s caught within, a struggle he intimately relates to— he tries once more to reach out in comfort.

“Amethyst…”

She sniffles, wiping away the leaking fluid pooling at the corners of her eyes.

(She does not, however, brush him away this time when he wraps his arms around her torso and nestles his head against her chest.)

“Just— forget it, okay?” she says after a quiet moment’s embrace, gently stepping back from his affection. “It’s whatever. Come on, Peridot and Ruby are waiting for us. Let’s dump this joint.”

__________

Ruby quietly shuffles across the loose soil, directing her eyes as low to the ground as possible to avoid having to stare at the Beta Kindergarten’s steep cliff walls. Red sandstone, Peridot proclaims a few feet away to their newly arrived sightseers, whirling in place with her arms extended wide. We’re lucky this place hasn’t blown away. Beta, am I right?

Steven manages a soft laugh at this. Amethyst continues onward with her arms crossed, unimpressed. But Ruby herself? Well, she’s the only Gem here who can say she crossed this infamous swath of sedimentary rock at its very beginning, on the day of emergence. The others may choose to laugh about how soft and unideal the soaring sandstone cliffs are, or about the uneven exit holes and curved walls, but in her opinion it’s no laughing matter. She’s seen firsthand how deadly even a so-called ‘imperfect’ Homeworld soldier can be. Even Garnet barely escaped with her gems intact.

Nervously flexing her fingers at her side as she tries not to dwell on that tragedy, she flashes her gaze upward, daring to catch even a passing glimpse of the top of the vast canyon. In an instant her vision swims with endless pillars of rusty oranges and reds.

Everything on this planet might as well tower over her without Sapphire. The once-welcoming arms of their temple? Monolithic. The vaulted ceilings of the beach house? Her eidetic memory can’t help but remind her of her early days spent marching through Homeworld’s diamond sized hallways with the rest of her squadron, patrolling the same route for well over five hundred cycles straight. The kicker? The Diamonds never had any reason to visit the shipment sector in person, anyways. The hallways were only constructed with such high ceilings to remind any Gem passing through of their rightful place under the Authority.

Over two hundred years, she adhered to their twisted rhetoric. Two hundred years of allowing everyone and everything around her to make her feel small, like she only existed for a singular purpose. Two hundred years of ignoring the tug of dissatisfaction at the core of her gem because of the misplaced belief that orderly subjugation under the Diamonds was simply the rightful pattern of existence. Then, in a beautiful bloom of light… she caught a glimpse of true freedom. And for the five thousand seven hundred years after that, Garnet didn’t feel quite so small anymore. She felt capable, confident, satisfied. Aided by Ruby’s physical strength and Sapphire’s future vision, she finally dared to challenge Homeworld’s rhetoric. She dared to live for herself.

Sighing under her breath, Ruby touches her fingers to the place in her right palm where her missing gem is, tracing the triangular shape of its illusory facets.

There’s no use arguing; Garnet was a better Crystal Gem than she can ever hope to be on her own. And now, because Rose just had to go and manipulate all of them, there’s a strong chance she’ll never get to be Garnet with her Sapphy ever again. Which means that until further notice, she’s stuck like this: short, stubby, and woefully insecure. Hah! Figures. All those years spent fighting against Homeworld’s warped notion that Gems had stagnant purposes and couldn’t grow beyond their stations, and now it’s as if she’s been dumped back at the beginning, like the past five millennia never happened.

It’s a cruel irony.

And yet it’s no crueler than this awful place: a cradle of birth manufactured as a tool of war, a Gem’s very existence leeching the life out of this once-fertile ground. The scars on the walls tell a mournful story, and as Ruby slowly trudges after her loved ones, fingers numb and fidgety in the wake of haunted disorientation, she can’t help but wish she wasn’t present for its prologue.

“Ruby…?”

Her sight trains on one of the tilted exit holes closest to ground level, on the messy silhouette it provides. She remembers this one, in fact, Garnet watched her emerge. She was a carnelian. By Homeworld’s standards, an imperfect one. That doesn’t matter, though. None of Homeworld’s lies matter. Running on nothing but the primary orders she was incubated with, (it wasn’t her fault, it was the Diamonds’, she reminds herself with a bitter growl), that Gem still emerged to poof three fellow rebels on sight. If Garnet hadn’t been so quick to retrieve their gemstones, they might have been shattered that day. Many of the others assigned to her squadron weren’t as lucky. Inhaling shakily, Ruby pauses to trace her fingers across a raised ridge in the rough, brittle sandstone.

“Hey, Ruby!” his energetic voice calls again, snapping her out of her intense focus like a fusion splitting in half.

“Aaaah!” she cries, swinging around and pulling both fists up in defense. Her hands uncoil rapidly once she catches a glimpse of that cheery yellow star.

Aw, scrap! she chides herself, repositioning her feet solid on the ground to regain some sense of internal balance. Damned startle reflex.

Unfazed, Steven grins boyishly, skipping a few steps away from the rest of the group to join her by the cliff wall. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Amethyst and Peridot are watching now too, she realizes, her brief but audible outburst thoroughly diverting their attention from their Beta Kindergarten roast session. Their quizzical glances pin her in place, her hard-light form heating in embarrassment as she struggles to organize the flow of her emotions in a way that might make sense to anyone beyond a fellow ruby. She scrunches up her nose and considers her next words carefully, attempting to strike the proper boundary between what is and isn’t appropriate to say in front of a half-human child. Stars knows Amethyst, Pearl, and herself haven’t had a great record with that over the past few days.

“Just thinkin’ about Sapphire, mostly,” she admits, offering him a saddened shrug. “Can’t seem to stop that, even half a world away.”

“Speaking of that... Why did you run after us?” Amethyst asks in a notably less cranky manner than earlier, lightly kicking at the dirt with the toes of her booties. “You never said.”

“Y’know, I…” She pauses, pressing her hand to her chin. “I’m not sure. I spent days waiting in front of the temple door. And eventually, I guess I figured that if she’s gonna make me wait no matter what, I might as well do something with myself until then. ‘Sides, I didn’t want to be lonely,” she adds, suddenly feeling just as small and vulnerable in front of all of them as her timid voice sounds.

She felt lonely enough when she ran away from home a few days ago, tears streaming in messy rivulets down her face, utterly spurning their attempts at comfort so she could pretend she was anything else than powerless amidst this nightmare. She never wanted to split, not at all. She begged Sapphire to give their relationship another chance, to believe in the strength of their love more than the fear of a diamond’s control, but tragically, her partner couldn’t hold up under the pressure. If one individual doesn’t wholeheartedly want to be Garnet, then Garnet cannot exist. They can’t synchronize. It’s simply the nature of fusion. And given her love’s avoidance, refusing to so much as leave her room to begin with, Ruby’s beginning to lose hope that their fusion will ever exist again. The crippling isolation that realization affords is the worst form of loneliness she can imagine.

Thus, the least she can do at the moment to mitigate these all-consuming feelings is to get off her butt, leave the temple, and ensure she’s surrounded by loved ones.

Peridot steeples her fingers together in front of her chest. “Well, what if you moved in with us?” she offers in a meek tone at first, her expression brightening as she continues to explain her idea. “The barn’s got plenty of room, and with two roommates you’d never have to feel lonely again!”

Steven’s dark irises practically sparkle. “Aww, Peridot, that’s super sweet of you to offer!”

“Wow, thanks,” she replies earnestly, puffing out her chest in a rush of personal pride. “I do try!”

“Yeah!” Ruby says with a hesitant laugh, scratching at the back of her neck. “That sounds amazing, but…”

“You should do it, Ruby!” he encourages, bouncing up and down on his sandaled feet amidst his excitement. “You should totally move in with them!”

“D’ya… d’ya really think so?”

“Yeah! It’d be like your very own vacation, but you’d only be a warp away!”

“And you’re sure you’d be fine with it? Y’know, with everything at home all…” She blows a juicy raspberry, jabbing her thumb down.

Amethyst serves her a big shrug. “I ain’t got a problem. Go crazy.”

“There’s no need to worry about me,” Steven says, smiling evenly. “I only want what’s best for you. And if you think not staying in the temple all the time would make you feel better, you should give it a try!”

Her concerned glance drops on the young half-Gem. Sure, it’s very compassionate of him, actively choosing to care so deeply for everyone’s emotional needs all the time, but home life for him hasn’t exactly been nurturing and hospitable lately. He already lost one of his pillars of stability when Garnet unfused. Pearl and Amethyst are at each other’s necks again. Sapphire hasn’t emerged from her room for days. Greg’s… doing whatever it is Greg does when he’s not hanging out with his son, probably keeping his distance from Gem business as usual. So with all that in mind, even if temporarily living apart from Sapphire is sure to be a beneficial move for her personal well-being and sanity, is now actually the proper time to consider a change in scenery? She purses her lips.

“I’ll think about it.”

Peridot lets out a sharp squeal of delight, apparently ecstatic about the prospect of possibly gaining a new roommate. Ruby can’t help but grin at this response. In truth, if she didn’t have to consider the well-being of Steven and the rest of the Crystal Gems, she’d say yes in a heartbeat. After all, she’s never gotten the opportunity to make many decisions on her own. Heck, she’s never gotten the opportunity to do much of anything on her own. Every time she’s unfused within the last five thousand years, her priorities have always been about what Sapphire would want, what Sapphire would do.

Well, what about Ruby, this time? Aren’t her desires important? What does she want?

Long term… she has no clue. But right now? She’d prefer to avoid dire reminders of old sorrows at all costs, thank you. So when Peridot declares that she’s 99.9% positive she’s found Jasper’s exit hole, Ruby declines to join them in their roast session. She never came here for sightseeing, anyways. She came here as their lookout. Just in case. She’s never trusted this awful tear in the ground one bit, and she’s not about to start now.

Running instinctively on old programming she was incubated with, she creeps deeper between the narrow mouth of the cliffs and summons her gauntlets at her side. Sure, so maybe they’re not as daunting in their size as Garnet’s, but they can still pack one heck of a punch. She’s still good at punching on her own, yeah? Hopefully? Stars, it’s been so long since she’s gone solo for more than a few measly hours.

And then, at the cliff base in front of her, she spots the most unusual exit hole she’s seen in this miserable canyon yet. For one, it’s low to the ground, like Amethyst’s. That fact alone is enough to set off alarm bells in her head. On top of that, its silhouette is almost comically wide and indistinct, not resembling any cut of Gem she’s aware of.

“Huh. That’s different,” she murmurs, pacing closer to investigate.

Maybe an off-color topaz could punch a hole as wide as this? But… no, no. That can’t be right. Hard light coursing wildly through her form, Ruby dissipates one of her gauntlets and runs the tips of her fingers across the crumbly inside surface of this hole. A few granules of sandstone break off upon her touch and clatter against the ground, and she jerks her hand away as if touching impossibly cold ice. Something about this feels... wrong. To be fair, she’s no expert kindergartener like Peridot, but she’s pretty confident the interior of exit holes should be smooth, with striated rock layers extending all the way back. Instead, this bizarre scar in the cliffs almost seems like—

“It’s dug out,” she says, eyes widening in dawning horror.

Which means they may not be alone in this rusted relic of a Kindergarten after all.

Her body suddenly feeling staticky and unbalanced amidst all this damning uncertainty, she tiptoes away from this mysterious feature, slowly at first, and then— as the fear begins to bubble up within her core like boiling water transformed under her power— transitioning into a sprint. We’re not alone, she repeats to herself in a harried mantra. Not alone. Not alone, we’re not alone, we’re—

Ruby’s foot catches on an uneven lip of stone jutting up from the ground, and she quickly plows headfirst into the coarse dirt, promptly ending her terror-stricken flight.

“Ow,” she whines as she recovers from this fall, rubbing at the side of her head. Not only is she a little dizzy, but her surroundings are made further hazy amidst the overbearing sunlight pounding indiscriminately upon the ground floor of this canyon. It’s enough disorientation to allow the jumbled code of her gem to begin to play tricks on her. For one, she swears she can hear this low, timid skittering, like thick claws rhythmically scraping against rock. Second, she’s half-convinced she can feel a surplus of physical vibrations radiating from the cliffs surrounding her. Squinting, she shields her eyes under a raised arm so she can begin to gain her bearings again. The blinding light recedes.

The red Gem gulps fearfully amidst the burning colors of the harsh sandstone landscape. “Wait, is that—“

She’s stumbled her way into a massive clearing, lined on all sides by stacked rows of holes physically dug into the sheer walls. Each opening is barred by a number of thick metal rods, stripped from the legs of the injectors that once incubated this hell in the first place. The thoughtful engineering imbued in this setup is impressive and terrifying all at once. Ignoring the tangible tug of hesitation at her core, she pushes herself back on her feet and creeps towards the closest cage to investigate further.

“Uh, you guys?” she calls loudly as she walks, the unusual curves of this canyon an undisputed blessing as they carry her message back to the others.

“Yeah?” Amethyst chimes back, her voice notably distant. Too distant.

“We’ve got, um—” her hand glides across one of the bent, rusty bars— “a bit of a problem here?”

“What?? Speak louder, we can’t hear you!”

Before she can even prepare to reply, a fur-covered monstrous creature leaps from the shadowy abyss of its prison and snaps its tusks at her. She yells, jerking her hand away from the cage and stumbling a few feet back. Her brow creases in abject confusion as she attempts to process what she’s seeing in front of her. It’s… it’s a corrupted Gem? This one’s most definitely a quartz; she recognizes the faceting, as well as the distinctive fur-covered quadrupedal shape of its corrupted form. But why on Earth is it being trapped within a cage in the middle of a defunct kindergarten instead of being placed in a bubble’s comforting stasis? The ground beneath her feet grows noticeably warmer as a rush of impassioned anger surges through her hard light form. She grinds her teeth together, flexing her fists at her side in the name of this cruel injustice. Caging isn’t part of Crystal Gem protocol for a reason!

Unfortunately, the horror show continues as her gaze passes over each and every cage in this clearing, finding scared, thrashing, corrupted Gems in almost all of them. Fluid builds up at the corner of her eyes as they scream and wail at her, riding a fresh wave of cacophony spurned by that Gem she spooked just a moment ago. How could anyone ever build such an awful place? And why?

Heavy, assured footfalls suddenly bounce across the acoustically encouraging slopes and surfaces of this ravine, magnified tenfold in their wake. Ruby gasps, wasting no time in ducking behind a tall rocky formation at the mouth of the clearing. That’s definitely not Amethyst or any of the others. It sounds too large, too bulky. She kneels low so she can still peek over the topmost layer of sandstone, a knot of dread coiling within as the footfalls continue to grow louder. Groaning, she clutches at her head. The unknown, the impenetrable shadow of the future… stars, it haunts her more than loneliness itself.

And then, the specter of her history reveals herself, making Ruby’s tangible form stutter in the sheer terror her appearance affords.

Jasper— her opponent, her nightmare, the Rebel Slayer herself— emerges from a plume of rising dust at the edge of this populous arena and enters the game.

#su #steven universe #ruby #amethyst #peridot #su fanfiction #my writing stuff #crack the paragon

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bakugous-bbygirl · 4 years ago

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~Circus Princess~

Bakugou x f!reader

Hello hello, today I have a circus au, because the Bakusquad is filled with clowns, I hope you enjoy and please feel free to send in requests!

Warnings: swearing, (a lot of dumbass)

When you were younger the circus had always filled your heart with wonder. Every part of the circus has your eyes running to catch every single piece of amazement.

So when you got older you ran off and joined the circus for yourself. When you first joined you had no idea how much better your life felt and all the new friends you would make.

You got close to your fellow acrobatist Mina first, then she intorduced you to her friends and that’s how you all came to be so close.

One by one you spent more and more time with your new friends and felt yourself falling more and more in love with your new home.

“Hey babe can you help me out carring this stuff to the main tent?” You smiled at Mina as you hopped from your bed “of course!” You regconized the box as Bakugou’s favorite knife set. You learned after a fit he threw at kirishima for dropping them on accident that he was very serious about his babies. No way were you hearing that yelling fit so you made sure to keep an extra firm grip on the box. “So Mina, how was your date last night?”

“A joke! He didn’t even pay for our food! He just looked at me like some idiot! Ugh when will I find a good guy who likes meeee!” Mina groans and leans on your shoulders as she walks “get off goof ball your gonna make me drop bakugous knives.” You bring the box closer to your chest as Mina begins to try and take the box from you. “Ah come on no ones scared of him. Your grown dummy!”

You and Mina went back and forth for a while when trying to walk to that tent. Neither of you worrying about the consequences of if you dropped the box. But minas big hands had gotten in the way and the next thing you know you feel the box hit your foot.

Hard.

“Ah! Damnit! Oh my god that hurts!” You fell to the grass and gripped your foot in pain. You never experienced a pain surge through your body like this before and you remember screaming out serval more swears that you would have never imaged you would say. You don’t remember much after that but you remember Mina grabbing your arm and some other people running over.

You wake up in your tent from a stinging sensation coming from your leg. “Hey..hey hey she’s moving guys..hey y/n..how you feeling?” You look around seeing Mina, kiri,denki, Sero and the man you were worried about, Bakugou all standing over you in concern.

“Fuck, Bakugou I’m so sorry I dropped your knives..” you move to sit up but all you feel is a tense pain in your leg. “Ah shit..” Bakugou puts his hand on your chest to push you back down. “Don’t move dumbass. It’s just a bunch of knives. How’s your foot feeling?” Denki leans over to look at you. “Yeah your foot is like, swolen to shit.”

“Dumbass don’t tell her that!” Sero pushed denki so he falls over then turns to you in a nervous stare. “Your foot isn’t that bad.” Kiri then hit Sero on his neck to make him stop talking before it got worse. “Don’t talk about the foot at all guys! I’m sure she feels it...” “you guys are the biggest clowns I’ve ever met. And we literally work with them.” Mina sits next to you on the bed and rubs on your arm. “Your foots fine we had the doctor look at it...it’s going to be swollen for a few days but you’ll be okay..” you nod a bit and try to look at the foot. “I wouldn’t do that dumbass..it looks gross. And the doctor already wrapped it.” No one hit Bakugou for his comment on your foot.

You ended up falling asleep while everyone was trying to talk to you. Your eyes felt heavy and you just fell asleep. You woke up to Bakugou shaking your arm a little too rough for your taste. “Come on dumbass, wake up, I got some food for you.” You move slowly and rub at your eyes “I want to apologize again for dropping your knives Bakugou..” all you hear is a chuckle as he set the plate on your lap, He moves to sit at the end of the bed to talk with you. “It’s not a big deal. It was an accident. Mina told me what happened.” “I still feel really bad..I know you really love those knives..”

“Their objects dumbass. Your more important than them. I’m more worried about your foot. I know you really like staying here. I would hate for something to take that away from you.” He was right. You loved the circus. It felt like home. Better than home. It felt like a place to belong..”why did you start working here?”

“It felt right. All my friends were joing so I followed. Then I started to like my stay here and figured I should keep staying. Can’t let those dumbasses outdo me.” You giggled at his comment and begun to pick at your food. You still felt a little bad so your hunger was honestly gone. “What about you? Why are you working here? Someone pretty like you could be whatever she wants.”

Was that a complement? You feel your face heat up slightly but you hide it in your hands. “I-I just loved the circus when I was a kid..so I really wanted to give that same feeling to others..that wonder..the joy..I want other young kids experience that..” Bakugou gave a grunt of agreement while nodding his head. “I hear that. My mom never really brought me around the circus. I was bad enough as is.” You giggled again at the blonde boy. Who knew when you got past his tough guy act he was actually kinda funny?

It’s not uncommon for people who work together to grow feelings for one another. And you were no diffrent, you thought Bakugou was really handsome, and that’s why you wanted to take such good care of his things. You know it was something he cared for and didn’t want him upset at you. Little did you know for the longest time Bakugou has been trying to come up with ways to spend more time with you. From practicing the same times you practice with Mina, inviting you to his tent to talk about ideas, anything and everything this boy could come up with to get you around him.

Conversation came naturally between you two so it felt strange that all of the sudden both of you had nothing to really say. Both your minds just felt blank. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, just diffrent. Bakugou probably decided that it didn’t make sense to sit in silence and moved to leave, however, “wait..” you gripped his jacket carefully and looked up at him like a child. “Just stay..? My foot really hurts and I don’t want to just go back to sleep..” Bakugou didn’t say anything. Just sat back down and held your hand in his.

And that’s how the both of you stayed for a good chunk of time. Bakugou’s presence was enough to make you feel better about your foot, him holding your hand helped slightly too, he was gentle as he rubbed your knuckles. His calloused fingers running over your smooth and dainty ones.

“Does it..feel like shitty or whatever?” Bakugou was trying to be serious but it just came off as a silly question that both of you found yourselves laughing too. “That was such a dumb question..” “I know I know...this talking thing is hard around you..right now..”

You tilt your head gently as to ask why. “Not in a bad way dumbass..it’s just..” he sighs and moves his hand from yours to rub his face. Your not going to lie, you already missed his warmth. “I..sorta..maybe really like you and don’t want to screw this up..” Bakugou’s face begun to mirror yours while you both heated up from embarrassment. Did he really just confess to you? “You..wait..I’m sorry..what?” The blonde rubs his back in a uncomfortable way as if he’s not sure of his own feelings. “Your just..really beautiful you know..? And smart..and your always happy to be here and you communicate so well with those idiots..I just..want to call you mine okay..?”

You look down at your lap for a few seconds as your brain tries to process what all was just said to you. “Ah fuck..I’m sorry I-“

“Okay.”

“Sorry come again?” Bakugou is in the middle of standing up so he’s in this sort of weird half crotch position, clearly stunned by your short cut answer.

“I said okay..I-I would like to be yours too..If that’s okay..” you trail off a little on the end but Bakugou pays no mind to it. All you get his two firm arms wrapped around you tightly.

“Yeah..yeah it’s alright with me stupid..”

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loverontheleft · 4 years ago

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Aftercare

AU with single PFTW/quarantine Brendon. Fluff and implied smut.

Brendon x reader. Warnings: So...we’ve (@beautiful-tragic-fallout) created a points system for smut.

0.25 for handjob

0.25 for fingering

0.5 for blowing him

0.5 for going down on her

0.75-1.0 for sex, vanilla

1.5-2.0 for sex, advanced positions

3.0 for bondage, spanking, other kinks, or public sex.

This has a score of technically 0...they talk about rough sex in general, spanking, and fingering/oral though...along with a Daddy/Kitten kink and my usual warning for language.

Word count: 3.8k

-||-

“Mmmmm,” Brendon sighs, collapsing on the mattress next to you. You giggle and scoot closer, loving the spread of pink flush across his skin. “I need a shower.” He pauses, running his fingers along your own flushed and glistening skin. He grins up at you. “We need a shower.”

“Noooo,” you protest, shaking your head vehemently. “No. Not yet.” Brendon props himself up on one arm and raises an eyebrow. “No,” you insist with a playful pout.

“You seem pretty firm on that,” he comments, rolling onto his back so you can cuddle into his side. You nod and tip your head up for a kiss. Brendon delivers and smiles down at you tenderly. “Hi Kitten,” he whispers, and his eyes, when he says this, reveal just how precious you are to him.

“Hi Daddy,” you chirp, puckering your lips for another kiss. “More pweaf.” The words come out slightly garbled from your refusal to abandon your kissy lips. He laughs and cups your face in his hand and kisses you gently. Yes, you think to yourself. His kisses are everything. If you could only ever kiss him - he could probably find a way to get you off with just a kiss. You press closer into the embrace and run your hands up through his long hair. You love his hair like this. Long and unstyled and perfect for tugging.

When he groans into your mouth, you know he’s sold on postponing the shower. He just doesn’t know why yet. The kiss is sweet and gentle; both of you are pouring all your affection into it. “Now tell me, Kitten,” Brendon mumbles against your lips, “why you’re so against showering.”

You wrap your legs around his waist and cling to him, hands still working through his hair. “Because,” you reply, pausing to rest your forehead against his, “we need to do aftercare.”

Brendon’s brow furrows in confusion for a split second as he processes this, and then his eyes go wide. “Love, I didn’t mean to hurt you - was I too rough? Tell me what hurt and I’ll - never again - I’m so sorry, Kitten- I didn’t think-“

“Not for meeee,” you cut him off, waving a hand in the air as if to get rid of his worry. “For you.”

Brendon pauses again, obviously trying to think through this one. “You’ll forgive me,” he says finally, “I hope, because, thanks to someone’s,” and he kisses your nose lightly, “tight cunt, I’m thoroughly fucked, and I can’t quite keep up with you mentally. But - for me? Kitten, you weren’t exactly...rough with me. So I don’t need-“

“See,” you cut him off again, kissing him gently. “Aftercare isn’t just for rough play. It’s for all play.” Your knowledgeable tone is his clue; Brendon relaxes, drops his concern, and rolls over so that you’re both on your sides and face to face. This is your “Deep Life Talks With Kitten” position, and it’s one of Brendon’s favorite non-sexual positions. You both scoot in so you're nose-to-nose, and you tangle your legs together while his hands move over your back.

“Someone’s been doing some reading,” he comments, rubbing his nose against yours affectionately. “Teach me something, my brilliant girl. You know I love your seminars.” You beam at him and give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Gladly. So...aftercare is predominantly associated with the BDSM scene and within that community, Dom/sub play, right? But it doesn’t have to be, and honestly, it shouldn’t be. Aftercare essentially is taking time with each other to come down and check in and build intimacy.”

“Build intimacy?” Brendon sounds confused, and your eyes go wide as you realize that he thinks you think your intimacy is lacking.

“Noooo, Daddy, we’re fine. Our intimacy levels are -“ you pause to kiss him and scritch at his hair, and he relaxes against you. “Top tier. Our intimacy is everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m just talking in general. But I was thinking while I was reading - we’re so good about doing aftercare whenever you’re rougher with me- which is when I need the care. But what about when you’re sweet and tender and giving to me? What about when I want to give it to you?” You let the question hang in the air. Brendon grins a little and starts to tell you that he’s fine when you groan and cut him off with another long kiss.

“Kitten, that is the third time you have interrupted me. If you keep doing it, I’m gonna have to put you over my thigh and spank you,” he mumbles as you deepen the kiss.

“I’ll take that risk,” you murmur back, giggling when he nips at your mouth lovingly and calls you his naughty Kitten. “Aaaaanyway,” you continue with a smile, pulling back and tugging at his hair affectionately. “We always do aftercare for me when you’ve been rough with me, which means that I’ve been sweet and good and giving for you. So why shouldn’t we do the same when you’re sweet to me? Aftercare isn’t just about taking care after being rough,” you tell him, snuggling in closer. “It’s also about checking in and processing and showing appreciation when someone’s giving. And you,” you shift onto your back now and spread your legs a bit, “were very sweet and giving just now. And I want to show you how appreciative I am.”

“I see your logic,” Brendon tells you, nodding with a faint smile. “I’m game. You’re in charge. Aftercare the shit out of me, Kitten,” he says as he rolls onto his back and luxuriates in the feel of the cool, soft sheets under him.

“Yes, Daddy,” you say promptly, climbing on top of him and kissing him softly. “We’re gonna start with some touching to establish a connection between the physical and emotional.” Your hands trail down his body and meet his eyes.

“You’re still wearing your metaphorical glasses, Kitten. Still in seminar mode. It’s hot. Keep talking.” Brendon grins up at you while you laugh and lean down to kiss him. You’re moving your hands over his stomach and chest in slow, soothing circles and pressing lightly against his abs. “That feels - good,” Brendon sighs.

“It should. You tense up from all the thrusting. Hopefully you won’t be as sore tomorrow after this.” Your voice is low and soothing, and Brendon closes his eyes; he’s on the verge of bliss. You keep talking. “Thank you for being so generous and giving of your time and effort and body.” He cracks a smile, and you giggle, reaching farther down to caress his post-orgasm softening cock. “You’re a wonderful lover, and I’m so grateful for the moments we share. I love you so much, and our sex is...well, it’s more than just physical.”

Something in his eyes changes and softens even more than when he usually listens to you. You know he’s enjoying this - not in a sexual way. Just in a human-to-human, lover-to-lover way. You keep going. “When we have sex, you aren’t just - it’s not just a physical release. We’re together in that moment in every way, and I feel so close to you in every way. You are so attentive and indulgent of me. I know you prioritize my pleasure, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. You make me feel like I’m the only person in the world who matters to you at that moment. You give yourself to me wholly, and I recognize how lucky I am. I love you very much.” You bend down to kiss him again, and he wraps you in his arms and holds you tightly.

“I’m the lucky one. I love you, Y/n,” he whispers, stroking your hair. You murmur it back to him again. You’ll never get tired of telling him.

“I always feel so relaxed and satisfied and safe with you. You don’t just prioritize my pleasure- you prioritize my well-being. Even when push me to new levels, I know I can trust you to take care of me. I love you. I love being close to you like this. No sex required. You make simple cuddling deeply intimate and special.” You snuggle down and rest your head on his chest. “You’re my favorite, Brendon. I’m entirely yours.”

“You’re my favorite, Y/n, and I’m completely yours,” he whispers back, kissing the top of your head. “I won’t even spank you later for calling me Brendon when you know I’m still Daddy,” he teases as he squeezes you affectionately.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he adds, laughing when you feign innocence. “Now come here, my naughty little Kitten.” He draws your mouth to his for a gentle kiss. “Love kissing you. Love you,” You preen under his embrace and continue to trace your fingers over his cock. “That feels nice,” Brendon whispers into your hair.

“I’m glad,” you whisper back, kissing his chest and rubbing the tip of his dick gently with your thumb. “I want you to feel good.” Brendon sighs, and you can feel his body sink deeper into the mattress. “That’s it,” you soothe. “Just relax for me. You gave me so much and worked so hard. Just relax and feel. Not trying to get you hard again. Just trying to touch and appreciate.” When you can feel his breathing slow, you trail your hand back up over his tense stomach.

“You’re good at this,” Brendon tells you in a low, raspy voice. “I’m feeling very...appreciated.” You smile, and he grins back at you. “I just love seeing you happy,” he whispers. You kiss him gently before sliding out of his lap and rolling over so he can be the big spoon. “I also love holding you like this,” Brendon mumbles, letting his fingers wander over your bare skin.

“That’s good,” you reply, eyes closed. “Because I love being held like this.” You’re both resting comfortably in the silence; his lips are pressed to your neck, and your fingers are entwined with his on your stomach. “I love that we can just...be,” you say after a moment.

Brendon nips at your shoulder twice, and you know that’s his Cuddle Code for “say more right now, you naughty and-slash-or sexy thing,” and you giggle.

“I mean - sex as a concept is great. Our sex specifically is incredible. But sex only gets a couple so far. I know too many couples that are basically roommates who just happen to fuck. They’re not really partners. They can’t sit in silence and enjoy each other’s presence. You and me...we understand and appreciate each other. We take care of each other. We work together in and out of the bedroom.” You falter. You’re pretty confident he understands, but he did say earlier that his brain was thoroughly fucked. Then it hits you - the way to make it make sense. “Okay- so. We can just lay here like this and not have sex or even say anything but still communicate and be on the same page. The silence isn’t something to conquer. These couples that aren’t partners...the silence is awkward. Intimidating. Sex is sex and actual intimacy is rare. You and I - our intimacy is part of everything, including sex.” You exhale, emotion evident in your next words. “What I’m trying to say is - they don’t have a Cuddle Code.”

Brendon pauses - you can feel his mouth drop open against your shoulder. “They don’t have a Cuddle Code?” He says in a voice that reveals his combatting disdain and concern. “How the fuck does that even work? Okay - do they have something similar?” You shake your head. Brendon is indignant now, but you know it’s not directed at you. “Well that’s just stupid. How does he know that she’s feeling vulnerable and in need of extra attention and love and lots of snuggles when they’re spooning? Or that she’s just stressed and all she needs to really feel better is for Daddy to get down there and eat her pussy? And - and - how does she know that he needs her to just keep talking because the sound of her voice makes him feel safe and grounded? How does she know Daddy is still so into her, and it’s not her fault at all, but sex just isn’t going to happen right then and he’ll make it up to her later? How do they -“ he trails off as his processing catches up with his feelings. “Oh. They don’t. They just don’t communicate like we do, do they, Kitten?”

“No,” you say in a small voice. “They don’t.” You push back against him lightly and wrap his arms tighter around you for a brief moment before releasing. He knows the Code.

“Commere, my love,” Brendon whispers, turning you in his arms so he can wrap you in his embrace after lifting your thighs up to his hips. “My sweet little empathetic Kitten.” He nuzzles the top of your head. “My soft, sweet, tender love. You feel everything, don’t you? I love that about you. I really do - you know that, right? I love that about you. You aren’t afraid to feel. The opposite of sensitive is not brave. I mean that. I think you’re so brave to let yourself feel. And that’s what you mean by us just being. You and me...we can just be ourselves, huh? We make it safe for each other just to feel.” You nod. “Yeah. We have our own little world, don’t we? And it’s just Daddy and his perfect Kitten.”

His voice is a soft purr in your ear, soothing you. “We’re a team, me and you. It’s always going to be us, my love. I’m always going to be by your side and on your side,” he promises, kissing your forehead. You nod against his chest, and he squeezes you gently. “That’s why the silence doesn’t bother us. Because we’re both at peace with the other. It’s not - we’re not trying to maintain an image or play a role or whatever. We’re just us and we’re comfy because our feelings are safe and respected and we both know the other is always going to be on our side.”

“Yes,” you squeak, agreeing to all of it, and Brendon smiles when you give his collarbone a quick kiss. He knows it’s your Cuddle Code for “all is well. Proceed as normal. I’m good - just getting my shit together. Thank you. I love you. I adore you.”

“I love you too, Kitten. So much. But it makes me sad - what you said about other couples,” he says finally. “That there are people who aren’t as happy as us. I know we joke that we invented Cuddle Code, but I guess I just always thought...well. I don’t know. I've been with you and only you for so long now. I guess I just got used to us. I assumed every couple was on our level. I want everyone to experience the love I feel for you and the love I receive from you.” He sighs now.

You lift your head and he brushes a hand through your hair. “I know,” you agree. “It’s hard, isn’t it? But...we can only control ourselves and we’re both happy. So...let’s keep making me happy and complete the final step before we shower,” you offer hopefully, sitting upright. “Food?”

You roll your shoulders back and Brendon smiles. His little badass Kitten. He’s in awe of you. You feel so much and just keep on going- you just roll your shoulders back, fix your hair, and keep going. “You had me at food,” Brendon declares, shifting and trying to get up.

“I’d hope so,” you tease, grinning at how easy he makes it to bounce back. “It was the last word I said. You stay here. I’ll be back.” You climb off the bed gracefully, knowing Brendon is watching as you bend over to pluck his t-shirt off the ground and wriggle into it.

When you get back into the room, Brendon has propped himself up with two pillows and the sheets are tangled down around his waist. He’s got a hand behind his head and he looks completely blissed out with his eyes shut. You falter in your step; he opens his eyes and looks concerned. “I’m good,” you reassure him. “You’re just so...hot. Hair all messy, face and chest flushed, arms looking like - that…” you trail off when he laughs softly. “Don’t laugh at me,” you pout playfully.

“Oh, I’m not laughing at you. Don’t worry. Now, come here, my sweet Kitten,” Brendon coaxes. You set the bowl on the bedside table and crawl into his lap. “There’s my best girl.” He kisses you softly and you melt into his touch. When you part, he looks over at the small bowl with some interest. “What’d you bring us?”

“Yogurt with granola and berries,” you tell him, running a hand through his messy hair. “Something light. Just a little recovery snack.” He nods and gestures for you to pass him the bowl. “We share,” you tell him. “You probably figured that out from the one bowl and one spoon. But it’s also more than that.” Your tone turns reverent. “It’s also the Speaking Spoon.” Brendon gives you a curious look and you smile. “We feed each other. And whoever is holding the spoon gets to talk while they feed the other.”

“Are there any rules for what we can talk about?” You love that he just accepts this. He’s always so supportive in the big and little ways - even down to your impromptu implementation of the Speaking Spoon, which you definitely just made up.

“Nope,” you say simply. “No rules. I mean...preferably the topic is the sex that just occurred, if anything needs to be brought up in a safe environment, but anything low-stress is encouraged. I’ll go first.” You take a spoonful of yogurt and bring it to his mouth. “I loved how you fingered me while you licked my clit- that felt so good. Then when you started curling your fingers deep in me while your tongue rubbed my clit? Made me come so hard- I love you. Please keep that combination in the permanent rotation. That’s a go-to move right there.”

“Mmm definitely,” Brendon agrees as he swallows. “Loved seeing you lose control like that. Whining and wiggling and coming...” He takes the spoon from you and offers you a bite. “I also loved how you were such a good girl for Daddy—keeping those pretty legs spread open for me. I know it was difficult; you like to squeeze my head with your thighs while I work. But you know I love the view. Thank you. You sounded so sweet, and looked so good, Kitten. Made my cock so hard.” He hands you back the spoon, and you accept it.

“Well, it’s easy to be good for Daddy when he treats me so sweetly. Especially after you made me come twice - and that was before you even got inside me. I love that breathy moan you make whenever you push into me - it makes me feel so wanted.”

“You are wanted,” Brendon murmurs as he feeds you another bite. “You are wanted and loved and cherished and appreciated. You know I absolutely adore and worship my Kitten. I’m very devout. I try to pray at that altar between your thighs at least once daily.”

“Mmmmm,” you hum in gratitude. “Well, you know it’s mutual. I love touching you and your cock.” You pause. “I’ve never asked before, but that’s what this time is for so...you don’t mind me touching you when you’re not hard, right?” Brendon laughs and shakes his head.

“I love you touching me any time and all the time. I’m much more sensitive when I’m hard, so you touching me when I’m soft is so nice. I get to really enjoy your touch and the attention. When I’m hard, it’s so good but I’m also trying to balance arousal and - well, this really lets me just appreciate how sweet and caring my girl is. Plus, it’s good for the ego,” he says with a soft grin. “Knowing you like my dick even when not hard and not inside you.”

“I love your dick all the time,” you say softly as you reach down between your bodies to palm over his cock. “This conversation was brought to you by aftercare.” You give an exaggerated thumbs up with your free hand (holding the spoon) and Brendon laughs out loud, calling you his favorite dirty dork. He takes the second-to-last bite you offer him before taking the spoon and holding it to your lips.

“You’ve made very good points about aftercare, my love,” he tells you. You nod as you swallow and Brendon sets the bowl and spoon back on the bedside table. “We’ve always been good at the physical aftercare when I’m rough. The coming down and the cuddling - but I like the idea of always doing it. I love- the talking is so nice. Now though...I want you. Your attention and focus to my cock is making me hard again and I’d bet anything that your pussy is getting wet. I want you so badly. Does your guide to good aftercare say anything about a round two?” He grins and tugs you closer gently so he can kiss you again.

“It says,” you whisper against his lips as you shift in his lap to tug the sheets all the way down, “that it can happen. And if it does, to go with it because sex is great. Just be sure-“

“To practice good aftercare the second time around too,” Brendon concludes, trailing his hands up your thighs. You nod and he gives you a wide smile. “Well, I think that can be arranged. You know I want you. Do you want me?” You nod eagerly, and he kisses you sweetly, laughing when you cling to him. “Is that a yes, Kitten?”

You giggle and nod as he grips your thighs with his warm hands and rolls you both over so he’s hovering over you. You run your hands through his hair and bring him close for a long, heated kiss.

“Fuck yes, Daddy.”

first photo by me (@loverontheleft) and second by @1-800-hallelujah. Do not remove/repost/re-anything without crediting.

#brendon urie #brendon urie smut #brendon urie fanfic #brendon urie imagine #brendon urie fluff?#brendon urie fanfiction #brendon urie come fuck me #I'm asking so nicely #he could fuck me any way he wanted #first time using a daddy kink heyyyy #I know he doesn't like being called daddy but he probably doesn't want to have sex with me either so let's not get picky about stuff k

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