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roseharpermaxwell · 1 year ago

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Bite-Size Drarry - Under 10k (Part Two)

Pausing my RWRB reading (I have an ask about firstprince fics too and I’m working on it!) to answer this, which is the nudge I’ve needed. I’ve done this for Dramione before (under 5k), but I especially love tempting readers to Drarry.

Short works are the unsung heroes of fandom. They don’t get enough love, which makes me so sad, because you definitely don’t always need 100k to deliver a stunning story. These are your bedtime stories, your palate cleansers, your individual serving sizes of serotonin. It’s okay to enjoy these even if you only read slow burn 100k+ fics, I promise. Live a little!

This is a sampling of some amazing favorites, but I’m always reading new things and will add to it regularly. If you find something you love, I know the author would love to hear it, and so would I! Take a deep dive into their work to find other gems.

Here's Part One if you missed it.

Bite-Size Drarry - Under 10k (Part Two) below:

Yours, Draco by @drarrytrash. T, 3.5k. MCD All that's left are 15 letters, and then those are gone, too.

Let Me Count the Ways by @thebooktopus. E, 3.5k. Intimacy comes in many forms. Draco wants to explore them all with Harry.

Thunder Moon by @maesterchill. E, 3.6k. Just like the first rumbling growls of thunder in the skies, a 'thunder moon' is a harbinger of storms and turmoil. During this rare night in July, many wix notice an increased difficulty balancing heart and head, instinct and morality, and even their own desires versus the wishes of their loved ones.

For those who have been bitten and turned, like Harry Potter, this struggle is magnified tenfold.

When his mate is attacked, will Harry be able to face down the monsters in the shadows, and inside himself... for the man he loves?

Perfectly Imperfect by @phdmama. E, 3.6k. Harry is about to have sex with Draco Malfoy. The only thing that’s weird about that sentence is that it’s not weird at all.

Re: Harry’s Crush by @lettersbyelise. T, 3.7k. Ever get that feeling you're being talked about behind your back? Harry doesn't, he's too busy being stupidly, obviously besotted with the guy in the lab downstairs. A fic where the interdepartment betting war at the Ministry gets out of hand, Millicent and Hermione get scheming, Harry Potter ends up wearing black eyeliner, and everybody ends up getting more than they bargained for. Companion piece: Featherlight, T, 1.3k.

Let’s go dip it low (then you bring it up slow) by @andithiel. T, 3.7k. Draco was not prepared to run into Potter in a Muggle gym, especially not a provocatively dressed, dancing and flirtatious Potter.

Absurd by Blowfish_Diaries. E, 3.7k. When Draco discovers a kink that Harry's been hiding from him, he has no choice but to explore said kink, right? Right.

Do You Want to Bet on That by phdmama. E, 3.7k.

Are you ready now by phdmama. E, 3.7k. 8th year. Truth or Dare. That's it. That's the fic.

Limits of Earth and Sky by @jackvbriefs. E, 3.8k. Again and again, Draco Malfoy returns to the public eye only to attempt the most challenging broomriding feats Wizarding Society has to offer. Again and again, Harry Potter watches him do it and wonders why.

Come As You Are by @peachpety. E, 3.8k. If asked, Harry Potter would categorize his high school senior year as normal: football, friends, and one devastating crush on his tutor, Draco Malfoy. When presented with an opportunity to help Draco, Harry rises to the occasion. Unfortunately, so does his dick. Sparks fly and alarms blare… and the Hogwarts Owlz Gossip twitter feed blows up.

Or: the one where an inconvenient erection brings them together.

Fruit Stand by @drarrily-we-row-along. M, 3.8k. Harry never skives off of work; he's never taken a day off, not even when he's sick.

But today is the day. He goes off for a drive and comes across a farm stand that changes his life forever.

Matching Pair by @the-starryknight. T, 3.8k. Harry Potter was possibly the last person Draco had expected to find standing at the foot of his favorite portrait at the Tate Magique. And yet, there he is, looking incredibly fit and monopolizing the attentions of the portrait. It's not bloody fair.

sink your teeth in by @softlystarstruck. E, 3.8k. Harry, or the wolf, or the wolf-that-is-Harry, is possessive. But he's trying not to show it.

Draco, though? Draco wants to be wanted.

Small Things by seefin. G, 3.8k. The Death Eaters went to the village early one morning before anyone was awake, and now the village is empty, apart from the Aurors, and the Order, and several now-stray dogs that sleep in an open garage on the side of one of the oast houses.

August by @wolfpants. M, 3.8k. Summer, 1998. Harry Potter arrives at the Manor to return Draco's wand. The problem is, he keeps coming back.

The Metamorphmagus Needs a Bath by @aprofessionalprotagonist. T, 3.9k. Despite doing their best to avoid each other, Draco and Harry are tasked with babysitting Teddy Lupin... together. That's not going to be awkward at all.

Under Your Skin by @p1013. E, 3.9k. He initials another section and flips the page. Being a junior Auror is a lot more grunt work than he expected, and the paperwork isn't even the worst of it. He's also managed to catch intake duty. It's getting close to 2 AM, there hasn't been a single arrest brought in tonight, and he's still got another six hours before his shift is over. Rubbing a hand over his face, he prays for something, anything, to make the interminable evening better.

Oxygen by Maesterchill. T, 4k. Draco doesn’t smoke. Except when he needs to breathe.

Watch Out (here I come) by phdmama. E, 4k. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Hermione mutters, her smile never faltering. “Harry, stop it.”

“Stop what?” Harry mutters back, not looking away from the grey eyes narrowed in his direction, as the man himself mouths what? Harry gives up on the punch and signals the bartender, asking for whiskey.

“If you’re going to eyefuck Malfoy, I’m going to go find Ron for a dance,” Hermione says, turning to set her glass down on the bar behind her.

The Waking Lights series by @magicalrocketships. T, 4k. Draco Malfoy ends up reinventing himself. On Instagram. And TikTok, as it turns out.

rawhide on your polish series by softlystarstruck. T, 4k. Draco acquires a new interest in Muggle Studies.

Two Lies and a Truth by phdmama. E, 4.1k.

Eyes on Me by Saras_Girl. T, 4.1k. Harry cannot dance. Will not? Better not.

Cupboard Love by @shealwaysreads. G, 4.1k. Harry’s life, and love, in food.

Still Waters by @iota. M, 4.1k. Coincidence brings Harry to the same alpine lake as Draco for summer field research, kicking off a month staying in a shared tent, endless opportunities for swimming and self discovery, and maybe a little studying too, if Harry has time.

in his hands by p1013. E, 4.2k. Draco’s got a bit of a thing for a certain part of Potter’s body. No, not that.

To Be Honest by shealwaysreads. M, 4.2k. Malfoy’s not fucking anyone. Harry’s curious. He’s just curious.

A Gentleman of Good Conceit by MaesterChill. M, 4.2k. Harry worships me, hungers for me. Facts are facts. What's also a fact is that I'm egotistical, an utter snob, and totally impossible to live with. But then, when has the impossible ever stopped Harry Potter?

Thirst by @fluxweeed. E, 4.4k. The path of Malfoy’s scent is obvious; Harry hasn’t fed for days, so his senses are sharp. Deadly. And Malfoy smells so good.

dive (and have no fear) by @callmegri. T, 4.5k. Draco Malfoy loves baths, but has no access to bathtubs. Harry Potter loves his friends, and has many of said bathtubs. It makes perfect sense to call Draco over to have a bath. ...Right?

Even Children Get Older by @lou-isfake. M, 4.5k. It started with don't wake the baby.

Good For You by @dodgerkedavra. E, 4.5k. Draco has only ever wanted to be a very good boy. He has no intention of blurting that out to Harry Potter at pub night.

But It's Better If You Do by louisfake. M, 4.6k. “This is exactly where you like me, isn’t it,” Malfoy mutters hoarsely in his ear, and Harry hears the unspoken beneath you, defeated. Harry laughs softly, lowering his arse onto his lap. The burlesque!Harry fever-dream oneshot that nobody asked for.

Tastes Like Soap by InnerLilith. E, 4.6k. Harry goes to the foam party hoping to finally have casual sex. Draco goes to the foam party expecting yet another night of casual sex. Harry and Draco do not have casual sex.

Passably wrecked by @tenthousandyearsx. E, 4.6k. “Potter,” Malfoy says, sitting down next to him at breakfast. “I think we should have sex.”

Lucid by @dracoladon. E, 4.7k. Harry's not sure what makes him harder; listening to Draco talk about astronomy, or shagging Draco so thoroughly that he can't talk at all. Both, probably.

Amber by @slytherco. E, 4.7k. Despite his numerous flings, Harry's thoughts keep circling back to Draco, only half-aware of his perpetual draw where they're not strangers, not-quite friends, but definitely something. When they both get played by the same person, Harry and Draco find a way to get back at him, and maybe get something extra out of it as a result.

When The Party's Over by @sweet-s0rr0w. E, 4.7k. Parties aren't quite so much fun when you're accidentally bonded to your sworn enemy. At least, that's what Harry thinks at first...

Sports Star by @moonflower-rose. E, 4.8k. Life as a professional Quidditch player involves a strict routine, and more hydration than Harry could have imagined. He's happy to follow the rules, but he does keep one little strategy to himself, his secret to success on the pitch.

Unfortunately, that secret is about to be exposed to Draco Malfoy.

As Easy As That by Moonflower-Rose. E, 4.8k. Trust Potter to be the target of a rogue bonding spell from a crazed fan. Trust Draco to try and leap in front of it.

Still Warm, Still Warm by @tsauergrass. G, 4.8k. The oranges ripened and grew heavy; the branches dipped under their weight. They picked some for breakfast every morning: Harry twisting the fruit off with a snap, Draco carefully tugging each one off.

Harry peeled an orange and handed a wedge to Draco.

Their fingers grazed, and Draco took it. The tender flesh; if he pressed just a little harder with his fingers, it would burst into a juicy mess.

Harry is up to something. Why else would he keep giving Draco presents?

Dinner and Diatribes by @ohdrarry. E, 4.8k. Socialising isn't Harry's thing. Draco does his best to help.

And if his idea of helping is a touch skewed– well. Harry isn't complaining, is he?

Game On by @pennygalleon. T, 4.8k. Draco blows Harry a kiss and the press goes nuts. Harry suggests they use this to their advantage.

City by the Bay by @caitlincheri28. M, 4.8k. Draco Malfoy had made all the wrong choices. After his time in Azkaban, falling in love with Harry Potter over parchment and ink, he decides he must attempt to make the right ones. Even if it means sacrificing his heart.

Dirty Fucking Dangles by p1013. E, 4.8k. The first time Harry watches Malfoy skate to the blue line, Harry can't drag his eyes away. His footwork is insane, and Harry's captivated. It doesn't hurt that when Malfoy takes his helmet off, his blond hair is plastered to his head like burnished gold and his eyes are the same color as an Alberta sky in midwinter. It doesn't hurt that Malfoy skates like he was born for it, that his puck handling makes Harry's breath catch, that when Malfoy scores—top shelf, hard enough to knock the goalie's water bottle off the net—he grins like a sunrise, too bright to look at and warm enough to make Harry sweat.

Float by @shiftylinguini. E, 4.9k After a night out, Harry wakes up feeling like he slept on concrete, like his body's made of sand, like he accidentally pissed on his housemate the night before.

Because he did accidentally piss on his housemate the night before.

Ferrety Little Mouths and How to Snog with Them by fluxweed. M, 4.9k. “I don’t think the size of your mouth has much to do with how good at kissing you are. People with ferrety little mouths can be good snoggers too.”

“You’re clearly an expert. You’ll have to teach me.”

sending my love all over you by @cavendishbutterfly. E, 4.9k. Draco figures out he’s got a praise kink. Harry figures it out faster. Or: five times Harry talks Draco to orgasm and one time Draco tries returning the favour

Fading in Love by Andithiel. E, 4.9k. Draco’s Dark Mark is fading, and everyone thinks he’s up to something. Everyone except Harry, that is, since he’s been too busy keeping his fuckbuddy situation with Draco a secret.

Continued in Part Three! (And here's Part One, if you missed it)

Give the authors some love! I also adore hearing if you found a new favorite fic or author.

I’ll be regularly adding to this, so if you’re seeing this as a reblog, feel free to check my Master List of Recommendations for the most current list. If you see yourself and you’re not tagged, or I've got a broken or misdirected link, please let me know!

#drarry fic rec #drarry fanfiction #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #drarry

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ichorai · 3 years ago

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crying ; eddie brock.

track two of DEAR SCIENCE.

pairing ; eddie brock x vigilante!gn!reader ft. venom

synopsis ; society’s busted and we’re all wearing rose-colored glasses.

words ; 1.5k

themes ; comedy, mild action

warnings / includes ; profanity, lots of blood, violence, serious injuries, one mention of getting drunk, venom and reader are bffs, venom is an annoying little shit, 90 day fiance is mentioned twice LMAO, this fic is basically just the three of yall bickering constantly <3

main masterlist.

There were always those scenes in movies where the main character sat up somewhere high, staring out at the city below them, and made some sort of offhand comment about how beautiful the view was. The fact that you thought the city still looked like trash from all way up here probably meant you were a side character of some sorts. You didn’t quite mind that. The streets always stank of piss and puke and weed, but you supposed that was home for you.

You and Eddie were perched atop the scaffolding of a half-completed tower, observing the sun bleed out over the sky as it descended below the horizon. Having freshly slunken away from an alley fight, you were bleeding profusely from several orifices—dried blood caked the entirety of the bottom half of your face and you’d acquired a nifty new stab wound to your abdomen. It should’ve concerned you that it was slightly more laborious to breathe than usual, which led you to believe you had a fractured rib. Fuck. It’s not like you could go to the hospital—a vigilante with no name had no business in a place like that.

Eddie, on the other hand, looked perfectly fine (or, as fine as he usually did, which wasn’t very fine at all). He was unscathed due to the lovely fact that he had a literal goo parasite living inside him, but you supposed you couldn’t complain. He ate like trash and would barely sleep an hour a week, so you weren’t really sure who was worse off at the moment.

With a wheezing sigh, you took a bite out of the sandwich Eddie split with you.

“Why the fuck is there egg salad in this?” you snarled while shooting Eddie the dirtiest look you could muster, drawing your legs in towards your chest so you could rest your chin on your knees. “I’ve told you a million times by now—that shit is disgusting.”

Eddie grunted around a mouthful of his half of the egg salad sandwich. “It was all they had left. Just eat it, I don’t want you to starve.”

With a disconcerted groan, you ripped off another chunk and chewed angrily, ignoring the clicking sound in your sore jaw. God, you were so tired. Were your eyes slipping shut or was that your vision growing darker? You honestly couldn’t quite tell.

“Why don’t we go back to your place and watch a movie, hm? I’d invite you to mine, but Venom trashed the place. Punched me in the face with my own fist!” he chuckled dryly, but there was genuine irritation behind his words. Then he sucked at his own teeth with a scowl gracing his worn features. “I think I need to go see the dentist soon.”

“You were being rude! It was so uncalled for! I made waffles for you!” you heard Venom’s gravelly voice grumble. They really did bicker like an old married couple.

Eddie burst out into another squeaky tangent—now something about how Venom never respected his boundaries, god they were such a pain to work with—before you felt yourself slump forward and everything went pitch black for a moment.

“I swear to god, if you bring up Anne one more time—I… Y/N? Buddy, are you okay? Oh, there they go.”

You were, in fact, not okay. Taking a dozen blows to the head definitely wasn’t good for your physical health, was it? Not to mention the faceful of concrete, the stab wound, and that really annoying pain in your jaw. You began teetering dangerously from the railing of the tower, before you were slipping off to the side, and you were going down, down, down…

Until a slimy black tentacle arm wrapped around your midriff, and you were swiftly dragged back upwards. A gasp startled itself from your throat as you were ripped from the haze of unconsciousness, eyelids shooting open. Oh, your sandwich was falling off the edge of the tower. Whatever, it’s not like you’d miss it, anyways. You felt bad for whichever poor soul would inevitably smell like egg salad for the rest of the day.

“Ugh, fuck,” you groaned, slapping Venom away from you with a pinched frown. “Stop squeezing me so tight, I think I broke a rib.”

“A thank you would be nice,” the alien muttered lowly. Your scowl only deepened, and you flipped him off angrily. “You know I could drop you off this tower and have you killed easily, right?”

A sardonic leer stretched your bloody lips thin. “You like me too much to do that.”

“That’s true. You are my friend. Even though I tried to eat you when I first met you.”

A huff of a laugh bubbled from your lungs at his words. “Yeah, and I still have yet to hear an apology from you.” Venom remained blissfully quiet, and you hummed in satisfaction. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, big guy. You’re a shit friend, but you’re a friend nonetheless.”

The dark limb that had extended from Eddie’s back retracted back within his body and Eddie rolled his stiff shoulders with a grunt. “Anyways, as I was saying,” he said nonchalantly, as if you weren’t on the precipice of tumbling to your death just moments ago, “we could watch some crappy reality TV if you don’t have any movies you wanna see. 90 Day Fiance makes me feel better about how much of a mess my own life is.”

“Glad to see you’re being honest with yourself,” you snorted, elbowing him in the side. “But, sure, I’m down. It’ll try to keep me awake, anyway. If I pass out again, I might not wake up again.”

“Don’t say that,” Eddie hissed. “I can’t believe you sometimes. I specifically told you not to come with me this time, and what did you do? You came with me!”

Guffawing, you gruffed out, “That’s what she said.” When Eddie’s scowl only deepened, a shrug lifted one of your shoulders upwards, but you regretted the motion immediately when a jolt of pain coursed through your arm. Carefully, you set your limb back down and fixed your partner with a pointed stare. “You know what, Eddie, you’re not my therapist. Kindly shut the fuck up. It’s over now. Besides, you needed me. If I wasn’t there, you and Venom would’ve been fucked!”

“They’re right,” Venom’s gnarled voice admitted.

“Thank you.”

“Stop encouraging them!” Eddie shrieked indignantly.

“Might I remind you that you’re just as much of a vigilante as I am?” you asked. “We may be fucked up bastards, but society would be fucked without us. We’re all just wearing rose-colored glasses, blind to our own sins. Ugh, what am I even saying? I need to get drunk.” Your eyes slid shut again. “God, I’m so tired. Just… I’m just gonna lie down and go to sleep, okay? G’night guys.”

“No!” Eddie barked out, panic twinging his words. “No, no, no, you stay awake! Venom, slap them. Stay awake, Y/N!”

A cold fist slammed into your cheekbone and you half-groaned, half-sobbed as you crumpled into the scaffolding, cursing out a storm. Pain blossomed all over your face and you spat blood onto the wood, eyes barely pried open.

Eddie was all over you in an instant. “Oh, fuck, oh God, I’m so sorry! Are you okay? What the fuck, Venom? I said slap them! Lightly!”

“You didn’t say lightly,” Venom said, unsure why Eddie was making such a big deal out of this. You were just punched, like, a million times today, what was the issue with one more?

Faintly, you could feel Eddie’s arms haul you up to your limp legs.

“Jesus Christ. Okay, c’mon, you’re okay, let’s go back to your place. No hospitals, yeah? Are you sure?”

“No hospitals!” you hacked out, mouth tasting an awful lot like copper.

“Eddie, they’re getting blood all over your jacket.”

“Not the time, Venom!”

“I really like this jacket, Eddie.”

The sky was dark now, and it made it hard for you to see anything as you stumbled along with Eddie. “I like this jacket, too,” you slurred, despite not being able to see the article of clothing and not at all remembering what it looked like.

“You can have it, buddy,�� Eddie said, patting your back lightly. “C’mon, I’ll take care of you.”

After a beat of struggling silence, you heard Venom choke out apprehensively, “I’m sorry I hit you.”

It hurt to smile, but you did so nonetheless. “Like I said,” you rasped, “you’re a shit friend, but you’re a friend nonetheless.”

“I like you better than Eddie,” Venom commented, which made you hoarsely cackle and Eddie balked angrily. “You’re not a pussy.”

“Thanks, Venom.” After a moment’s hesitation, you added on, “But if you hit me again, I’ll murder you in your sleep.”

“I don't need sleep, but fair enough, little human,” the alien easily said. Then, following a lengthy pause, he asked, “Eddie, what is 90 Day Fiance?”

#eddie brock x reader #marvel fanfiction #eddie brock fanfiction #eddie brock angst #eddie brock imagines #eddie brock drabbles #venom x reader #eddie brock scenarios #venom fanfiction #venom imagines #venom drabbles #venom scenarios #marvel x reader

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cryptiql · 3 years ago

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smoke signals

pairing: dabi/m!reader

warnings: smoking, mentions of anxiety and abuse, but otherwise okay. please do not read forward if any of the listed warnings might trigger you in any way, and stay safe <3

words: 6.5k

a/n: this is my first ever mha fic and the fact that i decided to do dabi first shows i have some massive balls but i'm giving it a try! if he seems ooc at all or i get some facts wrong, please lmk and i'll fix them. (heavily inspired by smoke signals by phoebe bridgers—would recommend listening to it or any of her other songs while reading)

dabi found the meaning of life in a simple strum of chords; a melody twisted by melancholy tunes that resonated deep within the gates of his mind. they haunt him—either by breaking his conscious from a much needed rest to bring him tossing and turning in the damp air of the loft, or making sure that he stayed wide awake during the late hours of the night and well into the creeping day. the lyrics are so surreal that he has to sit down and contemplate their meaning like an english teacher would to the color red, but they're painted saccharine and drip with honey flowing from the mouth that sings them and he hates it. he hates that he's wasted moments better spent wrecking havoc just to understand that stupid little ditty that clings to his heart like a leech. but this song did not come from his own craft—no.

dabi had known the putrid stench of sweat and vermillion blood when the flames licked at his skin, breaching the coarse flesh of his palms to rain hellfire upon all those who dared oppress him. he could weave lies with knots that would take years to unravel, and set whole cities ablaze with a mere finger. clawing oneself from a well built to drown them in their trauma does tend to leave scars on ones hands, and dabi's body was practically a canvas for mutilation, so he could consider himself an expert on the matter. he could attempt to make such a song by strapping in with his many hours of free time and diligent persona, but his hands were not made for music; neither delicate, sonorous tunes or dark, grating strains. they were made for war.

so if anyone had asks, "no" is his answer. "i don't play." and yes, it is while he's drumming a rhythmic beat that he claims this to be true, but the last thing he thinks about is donning a set of drums during his free time. he's far too distracted by the image of your taper fingers curled around the neck of your guitar to consider anything else.

the gentle but keen plucking of chords startles him from yet another ridiculously long-winded spiel by shigaraki, and dabi swallows a strangled groan behind his grinding teeth. it's in his head, now, and so far the only thing that has succeeded in reaping it from his memory—if only for a few minutes—is the blood stained battlefield that he's found himself fighting on far too many times this month alone.

what's he complaining about, though? it's not as though he minds getting down in the dirt. in fact, he's ecstatic to dig his claws into any gruesome ordeal so long as it benefits him in some way, so why is he so invested in this little to and fro game of twenty questions with the likes of you; someone as significant in the world as a paperclip without paper to hold? why come back, despite there being nothing in it for him besides a series of migraines?

not from you, a voice answers from inside. you're an absolute pleasure.

dabi nearly snarls at the confirmation that his own mind is turning against him, and as he does this, a plume of smoke erupts from his lips, billowing and curving to create intricate patters before dissipating into the atmosphere. a second time. a third. a fourth drag from the cigarette has completely obscured his face from anyone's view, and he relishes in the instant of privacy it gives him. however, it has also blocked him from seeing everyone else in the room, and while he normally would have considered that a blessing, it appears tomura has had enough of it.

you get headaches because you smoke too much, comes a second voice; yours, scolding in a way he'd only expect from a worried mother. dabi only has a split second to register it before shigaraki's head pokes through the fumes, red eyes alight with rage and lips pulled back into a snarl.

"would you quit doing that inside? it's fogging up my brain and i can't think straight." he grates.

"strange—i assumed there wasn't a brain in there to fog up in the first place." tomura's nostrils flare and dabi's pride spikes.

"besides, you came in here and looked directly at me as i was smoking—why didn't you ask me to stop then?"

"i was telling you with my eyes, idiot. you should know when it's time to either take it outside or put the damn thing out. there are ashtrays for a reason, and not everyone here wants to inhale that shit." he interrupts their intense staring contest only to wave his hand to clear the smog. now he can see the rest of the league clearly (oh joy, he thinks) and gives an indignant grunt when spotting toga at the bar table, covering her mouth and nose as a pitiful aim to block her lungs from the smoke. twice, who had unfortunately used up the last pack of his own cigarettes that morning, leans forward to take a whiff, exhaling soon after with satisfaction.

kurogiri stands at his usual spot behind the bar, seemingly unaffected as he idly scrubs away at grime infested glasses, while sako lounges at the opposite end of the room. his mask is on, leaving dabi to wonder if it's been like that all day, or if he just recently put it on to better fend off the fumes. he doesn't really care, whatever the case.

after a beat of silence, dabi wets his lips to respond, a lopsided smirk growing on his features.

"oh, i'm sorry your frail body hasn't adapted to a bit of vapor in the air. and with that flakey skin of yours, it's no wonder you're extra sensitive—"

shigaraki's hands come flying through the next waft to slam against the tabletop where dabi's feet lie, causing it to wobble and creak in protest. the ravenette doesn't even flinch as the harsh, raspy words are spat in his face.

"if you're not going to pay attention, then leave. actually, i'd prefer you do that either way."

and dabi would have happily disregarded his request if not for the faint ringing in his ears, rising higher and higher before receding back into his skull like the tide. a scowl morphs its way onto his once vacant expression as he puts pressure on his temple, rubbing softly where his eyebrows knit together. just for today, he'll indulge his so-called boss's whims. the piercing screech that emits from below when he pushes his chair back does nothing to help with the ever-growing headache, but it hardly matters now that he's headed out the exit. he's able to catch the last fragments of shigaraki's raving before the door closes, leaving him to stand amid the tumult of the city in all of its glory.

the alleyway is dark with looming shadows, but people are still milling about, so dabi considers himself lucky for already being dressed in his disguise. he flips his hood up, pulls the surgical mask over his nose and quickly slides on his sunglasses for good measure before slipping out into the traffic, sometimes going with the flow and then weaving past those moving too slow for his liking.

right now, his patience is a mere thread; hair thin and on the edge of snapping whenever someone bumps his shoulder. their negligence is infuriating, and he's tempted to roast them into a charred, mangled mess then and there—the consequences of blowing his cover be damned—but by some miracle, he manages to refrain from doing so. it takes about five minutes for his temper to shorten to the length of a matchstick, and he knows that one more shove will be what strikes it. dabi pauses for a moment to crane his neck, allowing the sea of people to flow around him like a stream to a rock as he searches for an alternative route. it appears as though he'll have to take his chances with the crowd until he hears the repetitive ringing of a bell and a man's voice calling for passengers to board. public transport was risky, what with him being a menace to society, but he can't possibly be the single most shady dressing person on the train, right?

he wouldn't bother answering his own question when daylight was burning, so dabi pushes himself from the swarm and leaps for the streetcar just as it begins pulling away from the stop. there's a shuddering jolt before the passengers settle in for their departure, and as his palms squeeze the metal railing in response, he notices the peeling red paint clinging to the car's exterior and finds himself staring at it for a ludicrous amount of time, not thinking about anything in particular.

the rickety trolley is semi-packed with civilians, none of whom regard his presence with anything more than a noncommittal glance. good—that makes his job ten times easier. to his chagrin, it runs over more than a few opposing train tracks or crudely paved bumps in the road, and this causes the whole cart to jostle before stilling completely, the process repeating itself over and over.

the knowledge that his trip to the outskirts of town is a short one is the only thing that calms his nerves.

when dabi finally arrives at his destination, the sun is gradually descending from its peak in the sky, and the clouds are more like wispy tufts than the luscious, cotton candy lumps they were just hours earlier. overhead, the baby blue hues turn to shades of opal; a forewarning of rain. the feelings of irritation and malice from earlier are still bound to him like chains that threaten to snap him in half when drawn too tight. the crippling weight causes his feet to drag along the gravel path at a sluggish pace, his own hot breaths fanning against his face from behind the mask. if anyone actually lived out here and they were to see him, their first impression would be that a living corpse had just waltzed onto their property. it was just his luck, then, that you were the only person out here, and by extent, the only one not deterred by his appearance.

even so, dabi's mind kicks into gear. was this a good idea? he doesn't even know why he came here—he just needed a place to blow off steam and his body had already made the choice on its own. this isn't any different from all the other times, though, and he can't ignore the fact when it sits in the pit of his stomach like an anchor. you're always the first person he goes to at times like these (dabi subconsciously rules out the man working at the local 7/11 who sells his liquor cheap, though he's still appreciative of the bottle to numb his thoughts). that tells him more than he wants to know.

your house is quaint, like those old country cottages he sometimes sees pictures of, and squats on a large, grassy mound of earth surrounded by heaps of rocks and sand from the neighboring beach. it merges with a towering lighthouse, and dabi notes that there must not be any sailors due to make port yet, otherwise the light would be on. the second thing he takes in are the flowerbeds sitting under your two front windows, and how they look withered and close to death.

"i wanted to add some color, but i can't keep plants alive for shit." you had said, huffing in amusement to yourself as you tended to the weeping alliums. "succulents are the only exception."

a small pot of them sits on the windowsill, but they seem to have gotten to big for it; the rubbery leaves spilling over the cracked rim. he hardly registers how much of a stalker he must look like until he stands on your welcome mat, peering through the dirty glass panes to find you nowhere in sight. the lights aren't on, so he can only see the outlines of furniture when bands of light stream in to reveal them.

sitting back on the balls of his feet, dabi curses under his breath. it's not like he was expecting anything. how was he supposed to know whether or not you were home when you had no way of telling him?

"jesus, patch!" a shout startles him from his brooding, but he doesn't let it show as he looks towards to ocean. you're hauling yourself over a large rock to wave him over, wearing a familiar grin. so that's why he couldn't see you. dabi makes careful work of leaping over jagged stones and threatening to bake any nosy seagulls as he makes his way to where you sit, with your favored instrument slung over your shoulder. the ghost of a smile graces his lips when he recalls how you would have scolded him for being mean to the birds, but that was before last week.

"pesky fucking bastards—they keep shitting on my music sheets!" another seagull waddles into your vicinity, only to squawk in distress as you shoo it away with your foot. "i wonder if this is natures way of telling me to quit while i'm behind. . ."

after breaching the treacherous terrain and nearly scraping himself in the process, dabi squats on the stone beside yours, looking up at you with hooded eyes. you meet his gaze with nothing short of merriment and a shake of your head.

"if someone had seen you, you would have been arrested on the spot for being a peeping tom." you chuckle, combing a hand through your hair with a smirk. "what? you lookin' you catch me in the nude or something?"

dabi scowls, choosing to ignore the question rather than give into the bait. as if i would be satisfied by looking at anyone but you in that state. he swats the air as if it would drive the notion from his mind like a bothersome fly.

"in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere? i'd never get caught."

"aw, don't be like that. if you really wanted a peek you could've just asked." the mocking tone in your voice spurs him to smack your thigh, which earns a hearty laugh in reply.

"ooh, don't treat me so roughly, or i might begin to like it!"

dabi has had more than enough experience with your flirtatious tendencies, and he feels he should have gotten used to it by now, but his heart still clenches every damn time. the worse part? he can't say that he minds. you don't give him a chance to respond, but dabi hasn't a clue what he would have said, so he lets you continue, watching intently as you rifle through your bag to fish out a guitar pick. shifting into a crisscross position, you perch the guitar on your lap and begin tuning the strings, idly talking about how uneventful the past days have been. dabi pretends not to have heard that it was because he wasn't there to visit, and instead gives his attention to the lighthouse in hopes that you won't see the faintest of reds dusting his ears.

five minutes pass before you actually start playing, and even then, it's only a few experimental notes here and there that help you build towards the perfected melody.

it's too sweet for his taste; dabi swears that's why his stomach turns so ferociously and prompts him to lean against the boulder to his right for some sort of stability. he won't even humor the idea that it's because of the way your lips twitch into a near half-smile before melding back into a concentrated frown the moment you strike a wrong cord. an embarrassed flush captures your cheeks as you study the music sheets, briefly pressing down on them when a sudden breeze flutters the pages. the pencil that was once tucked behind your ear now sticks out from one corner of your mouth, a flash of pink and orange melding together when you go to absentmindedly gnaw on the wood.

many more minutes fly by, and you've long since abandoned the new tune just to pick up an old one. dabi's back straightens at the first set of strings you pluck, and he recognizes them as the same ones that have been playing on repeat in his head since the day you met.

dabi's heart hammers in tune with every footfall that slaps against the pavement, tearing through the small pools of water that grow with every second. it hasn't stopped raining since the chase began, and there isn't an inch of him that hasn't been soaked through. still, something good must come from this little dilemma—the burning sensation that clings to his arms has almost settled down. the silhouettes of trees merge with inky blackness when he blinks, and he reaches with trembling hands to wipe the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes.

a yellow square of what assumes to be light shines in the distance, contrasting wildly adverse to the darkness that sweeps him up from under his feet and pushes him forward. the sound of police sirens has been reduced to a mere memory in the time that was running, but he isn't about to risk going back to the league's base in fear of a stakeout waiting to get the jump on them. besides, why stop there when the possibility of shelter awaits him?

the bottoms of dabi's shoes are slick with mud, and blades of grass have snuck their way under the cuffs of his jeans to scratch at his skin. the sensations paired with the numbing cold are beyond uncomfortable, but he won't have to worry about that once he gets inside—that being if the person inside doesn't put up a fight.

he'd expect them to be mad if they did anything except that, no matter how welcoming the house looked. dabi's instincts tell him that someone out this far from the city doesn't a have a lot of connections, and thus killing them wouldn't cause an uprising if it were needed, but the minute he grips the doorknob, a thought occurs. if they have a quirk, its power could level my own or even surpass it. . . he grits his teeth. but like hell i'm going to let them win.

the hesitation vanishes in an instant as dabi turns the knob and thrusts himself inside, wielding a blue flame in his dominant hand to further illuminate the room. the wind is so fierce that it pulls the door shut for him, and the villain finds himself staring down the unperturbed figure of another man, perhaps around his age, hunched over a stove and glaring at a steaming kettle. they lock gazes, and almost immediately, the kettle gives a high pitched whistle. you look away first, lifting the pot and turning the burner off whilst opening the cupboard overhead to pull out two mugs, both of which adorn ugly christmas-themed patterns that dabi wishes he could forget ever seeing.

his glare hardens when you move to the table in the far corner and begin pouring what he assumes to be tea, taking one cup into your own grasp and leaving the other at his own disposal. your one mistake is grabbing your phone from the counter, but when dabi's flame enlarges, you hold your arms up in defense. then, before he can even formulate a proper threat, you toss the phone to him. he catches it easily and observes the dark screen, masking his astonishment with a more sinister expression.

the only other move you make is to drape yourself across a cushion on the window seat with an acoustic guitar in hand. you look more relaxed by the second despite being cornered by a dangerous criminal, and dabi has to refrain from voicing his shock when you address him with an almost bored tone.

"if the tea isn't to your taste, there's more in the cabinet. shower is down the hall to your left, and there's a spare bedroom upstairs to the right. do whatever the hell you want, just don't burn the place down or touch my freddie mercury records."

dabi is stuck to the spot for one of three reasons, he determines. one, your attitude has surprised him into a stupor that not even hiw own will can break. two, his refusal to believe that you're handling this situation in a calm manner is really just his defense mechanism kicking in, and he won't move until proven that you won't do anything when his back is turned. and three, you're quirk is similar to that of madusa's and you've successfully turned him into a fleshy mannequin.

"if you're worried about me calling the cops, what you're holding is the only working phone here. the power is out due to the storm, so my landline is dead, and the nearest form of help is a crippled old widow five miles west. i'm not going to risk running when i'm up against someone with a quirk."

dabi considers everything said, but never once allows his fire to dim. he took the surrounding area into account while making his escape, and he can see the landline is in fact out of service, so the male's assurances checked out. hell, the light source that guided him here was nothing but an old-timey oil lamp. the fact that you're quirkless does him a great amount of good as well.

with cautious steps, dabi makes a beeline for the bathroom, but he stops halfway to stare at you again. you respond by quirking a brow and kicking your feet up, something akin to mischief in your guise.

"i can take the shower with you since you're so afraid i'll make a break for it." you drawl, and dabi snarls, a fowl cuss bubbling in his throat as heat crawls its way up his neck.

"why, with a blush like that you might not need any drying off~."

dabi decides that he's had enough and storms down the hall, already peeling off his dripping clothes and and silently promising that he'll burn the guy to a crisp if he so much as tries to catch a peek. he can hear you calling out in hilarity even as he slinks into the shower and attempts to drown you out with the static-filled haze that captures his senses.

"the name's, y/n, by the way!"

try as he might, dabi had never been able to keep from coming back. now the reason why has been revealed to him on a silver platter, and he won't even spare it a glance.

your soft singing snaps him from his reminiscing as he stretches his legs, stifling a groan when something pops as not to disturb you. while digging through his pockets for a cigarette, he stops momentarily for fear of forgetting how to breathe when he lays his sights on you. you're in your own little world; everything else—him included— seems to have disappeared as you play from the heart. you need no standing ovation, no adoring fans or fantastic lightshows. you've said it once, that fame and glory mean nothing to you, and that you have all you could ever want or need right here, nestled in the beachside view of what you call home.

"and i have you." a cool breeze ruffles your dirt stained overalls as you reach up to wipe a bead of sweat from your forehead. the sun beats down on you, never shining half as bright as your smile, and the shore kisses the boulders with waxing and waning waves of aquamarine; frothy, foamy masses washing up with it to carry lone strands of seaweed. "otherwise i'd go mad without your company."

okay, that was lie. the truth is right there, practically spitting in his face how much of an idiot he is for trying to deny it, and dabi is glaring right back at it. he feels like an impatient kid on christmas eve, sneaking glimpses of gifts under the tree and feeling like he's committed a felony after getting caught. and you do catch him.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" there it is—that stupid nickname. it's always been laced with mirth when you call him as such, but now it's replaced by genuine curiosity. and is that a hit of concern he hears? you study him with pursed lips and stony features that gradually morphs into that of concern when the silence stretches on. dabi forces himself to sneer at you, and something stirs inside his chest when you don't flinch.

he hates it. he hates you.

dabi nods to the sky, a guarded noise building in the back of his throat as he tugs on his earlobe.

"s'gonna rain." your jaw visibly clenches, but you humor his evasive habits just like you always have, looking to the clouds, which have darkened considerably in the last hour or so. it's around this time that the weather patterns become more unpredictable, but you've noticed the distinct lack of rainfall in spite of the gathering storm brewing overhead. you could sit out here for a while longer without much activity in the sky, and it would take more than a little shower to drive you inside, especially when you finally had the chance to enjoy some quality time with dabi. you notice the way his shoulders droop and the tension from his facial muscles all but disappears when he sits amidst the smell of fresh salt water and unpolluted air—the weight of his past slowly but surely ebbing away. you'd like to hope you have some part in that. oh god, do you ever hope.

you plead to whatever omnipresent being above that he's not just here to hit a blunt without getting reprimanded for it, or that he's making these daily visits out of pity.

"nah. it's been like this for a little while—looks like a storm will hit, but then it passes before it even begins." you sling the guitar back over your shoulder and gather up your music sheets, eyeing dabi from your perch. you're challenging him now, and normally you would never dare force him to speak if he didn't want to, but something about his aura is off. you can sense it in his words; the very air he breathes; and it compels you to hold him close, if only he would let you.

"so, you gonna tell me why you're avoiding the ques—" a deep rumble interrupts you, and dabi lets out a sigh of relief that you're thankfully too distracted to hear. a single drop of water hits your nose, followed by another, and another, and—

"you were saying?"

"oh shut it." you don't get to finish speaking, for a crack of lightning strikes the far end of the beach, scattering sand in every direction. you just barely manage to scoop up your belongings before sliding from the rock, but your footing betrays you and send you stumbling to the ground. dabi is there to catch you, wasting no more time in hauling you to your feet and rushing you as carefully as possible through the jagged maze. he can't refrain from smiling when you splutter a string of profanities pass poorly hidden laughter, an unmistakable "FUCK ME!" spilling into the cold evening when you accidentally stub your toe on a particularly sharp stone. it's pouring within seconds, and no sooner do you reach the doorstep do you both realize how sopping wet you are.

the last thing you think of is your chattering teeth, however, when you see dabi's spiky tufts of hair dripping with residue and his electric blue eyes gazing into yours. what you do think is that for the first time in your painfully ordinary life; your twenty three years of mediocrity and progressive isolation from the world around you; you have found the single person who understands your struggles and has chosen—for some unfathomable reason—not to abandon you. you wish you could say your parents were the same, but you also have scars from a distant childhood that brought you to this place.

this old lighthouse is your home, yes, but dabi is your sanctuary. he might as well be a god by how often you worship him from afar, wondering if ever you'd be so lucky; so eternally blessed; as to call him yours.

you don't register that he's opened the door to let you both inside until a cozy warmth envelopes you. no, wait, that's dabi's fire. it should terrify you that the same man who threatened you with those flames is now at arms length, but you trust him not to hurt you in any way, and so you lean into the gentle licking of heat on your skin, humming in content as your shivering comes to a halt.

dabi's fear of burning you diminishes when you flash him a grateful smile, a whisper of thanks echoing across the walls and pummeling his heart without resistance. he averts his eyes with a curt nod, a feeling like molasses weighing down his tongue and drowning the words he wants to say.

"you're welcome." is all he can muster.

half an hour later, your guitar is drying by the hearth and the two of you are huddled on the window seat, nursing cups of coffee and watching the storm in a comfortable silence. you haven't blinked in a while, meaning you've wandered off the tracks of consciousness as suspected, and pretty soon, you start singing quietly to yourself; the deep crooning used as background noise to your aimless meditation. dabi nudges your calf with his foot and is rewarded with a brief quirk of your lips and a nudge back. he doesn't have the patience nor the brain power to decipher how long this goes on for, but it doesn't matter.

this is fine. the image of red hair and a tall, intimidating figure invades his train of thought, and dabi curls inwards on himself. this is fine.

but it's not.

trembling, he places his mug on the table before retracting back into his seat, clasping his hands together. he tries visualizing the ties of his life coming together to form a rope. the fingers on his left—memories from his past—linking together with those from his right—memories made with you. his palms connect, bringing instant relief with the knowledge that he's here now, practically nestled between your legs, out of harms way. you're both fine.

dabi takes the swelling anxiety and pretends to crush it within his fist; clenching and unclenching it until his peace of mind returns.

"penny for your thoughts, patch?" you ask again, still in somewhat of a trance. this time, dabi answers.

"why do you call me that?"

you're caught of guard, half expecting him to ask why you haven't turned him in to the authorities. you've seen him without his disguise, you know his name, and for the past eight months you've been socializing with him like normal human beings do. that's more than both of you could have said in the past. of all the burning questions, he chose that one? "i've heard 'patchwork' and 'staples' and just about everything in between. why shorten it to patch?"

you gape at him, opening your mouth, then closing it, and so on. the pitter patter of rain against the window has ascended into relentless pelting. it sounds like gunfire to dabi; assaulting his ears in floods; but to you, it's nothing more than a waterfall hindering your view of the ocean. the deep breath you take seems to put more suspense in the atmosphere than needed, and it makes dabi's heartrate quicken for an entirely different reason, yet he makes no sign of stopping you.

"because my first thought whenever i see you is how much you remind me of a doll." oh. what?

you can tell by dabi's reaction that that wasn't what he was expecting, so you gesture for him to wait. he isn't sure he likes the forlorn expression you're wearing.

"typically, when kids first get a doll, they treat it like glass and make sure to tend to it with love. other times, doll owners are reckless and tear them apart just to stitch them back together like nothing happened. you use that camouflaged to blend in with the public, and i'm lucky enough to see what's under it. . .but sometimes i wish you'd keep the mask on so i don't have to see you upset."

upset? a fizzing sound erupts from his palms that he struggles to put out. he's not upset.

"don't try to hide it. you're always scowling when you think i'm not looking, or when you forget i'm even here, and i know it's because someone broke you without the intent of fixing you up."

once more, red clouds dabi's vision, and he moves to stand up.

"you had to clean up after their mistakes because no one else would, but instead of reusing the bits and pieces of your old self, you burned them. you destroyed any and all evidence of who you used to be and now you're patching yourself together with parts that aren't your own, because you don't want to hold onto what happened. though, something tells me you still haven't let go, otherwise you wouldn't be so angry."

"you don't know that!" he snaps, but he knows it's not true.

your hand closes around his wrist, and dabi recoils with such strength that it yanks you from your seat. dabi doesn't want you to let go, no matter how much he thrashes in place, because the sensation of your skin on his grounds him. somehow you know this, and you give a comforting squeeze to his pulse.

"but that's not all i see. because dolls are beautiful, and it's the ones who still love them after they're broken that they need the most. no one's told you they think you're beautiful, have they?"

dabi shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze even when you cup his cheek with your free hand tilt it towards you. every touch is filled with hesitancy; feather light and more intimate than anything dabi has ever witnessed, let alone experienced personally. with the way you hold him like he's water in your hands, your eyes overflowing with a love he hasn't known in forever, dabi knows he won't find another feeling like it. you're not the embodiment of good—at least not by society's strict standards—but at least you can sit there and say you've committed a crime. you've never bloodied your hands by hurting others, much less gotten a thrill from doing so, and that's why he pulls away. he has to, because dabi is a harbinger of war, and if he holds you any closer it will only be to kill you.

he says something; a snarl mixed with a broken plea that he prays will make you stop; and you do. his silent victory doesn't last for long, though, because then you're using both hands to cradle his face and fuck, the pads of your thumbs grazing his scars feel like heaven. "won't you let me be the first?" how could he say no? how, when the taste of honey and whiskey is so addictive that he's already drooling into the kiss and willing to beg for more; when your mouth slots perfectly with his and dabi begins to wonder if he's stumbled right into the scene of a cliché wattpad story. the idea causes him to huff out a growl, and although neither of you can talk, he can imagine how strongly you must want to poke fun at him for the action. he can feel you smirking—the smug little bastard you are—and dabi ponders how long it will take to reduce that attitude of yours until you're submitting to him.

not yet. he chastises himself, completely unaware that you're currently thinking the same thing. dabi kneads the flesh of your hips through your jeans while you comb your fingers through his hair, gasping sharply between bruising, wet kisses and keening when he leans down to nurse your lips with soft pecks afterword. you're still trying to process the fact that you've coerced this devious criminal into making out with you in the pale glow of your seaside residence, but for the moment, you need not concern yourself with the details. you've forgotten all about dabi's ego and how this whole situation is no doubt feeding its flames. his grip on your waist is making you too delirious to care.

"fuck." dabi's breath is staggering when you finally pull back, an aura of clarity and desire hanging between the two of you.

"y-yeah. . .that was. . ." you can't produce a word, or even a paragraph to describe it. you know you're going to hit yourself later for admitting such a banal phrase in the midst of what could be classified as your very first kiss, but that is neither here nor there, and you would rather suffer an agonizing death than let dabi find out that he stole your first. you're too preoccupied envisioning all the other firsts to come, so you don't notice the way he stares at you like some precious jewel, but his fingertips brushing your bottom lip succeed in snapping you out of it.

"hm?"

dabi goes quiet, contemplating what to say as the thunder moves abroad and the rain comes to an end, leaving the house in a numbing state of tranquility.

"why not call me doll, then? it'd be easier."

you chuckle in response, playing with the hairs at the base of dabi's neck and making sure not to miss the way he melts into the affection. "i thought that'd be moving too fast." and dabi; still drugged from your kiss and what he can only hope is love; rasps out a genuine laugh, cupping your jaw with a tenderness that makes your knees weak.

"you offered to take a shower with me the night we met, and you think a nickname is moving too fast?"

you stick your tongue out at him, and dabi resists the urge to grab it, even if it's just a bluff.

"would you have let me call you that anyways?" you ask, something hopeful ridden in your tone. dabi feigns consideration as he looks to the ceiling, snickering when you smack his chest. eventually, he murmurs what you audibly hear as "brat" before resting his forehead on yours, an impish glint in his gaze.

"no."

you turn your chin up at him, giggling when he nips at the skin. dabi knows just as well that your attempts at escaping him are halfhearted, so he encircles his arms around your waist tighter, delighting in the flush that paints your cheeks.

"then i think i'll settle for my love, or darling, if that's alright with you."

dabi can't fend off the blush for his life, but he's not afraid if you acknowledge it. he can get you back easily, and he plans to. "fine by me, doll."

#⛓.dabi #dabi x male reader #dabi x reader #anime x male reader #mha x male reader #touya todoroki x male reader #my hero x reader #my hero x y/n #boku no hero x reader #x male reader #bnha x you #dabi fluff #dabi angst #dabi imagine

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potter-imagines · 4 years ago

Text

Meadow (George Weasley x Reader)

Prompt: Hi, maybe fred or george (you can choose) and the reader are spending the afternoon in a flower meadow together? (sorry for my english, it's not my first language)🙈😊

Notes: okay I'm sure spring break isn't a thing at hogwarts but for this write, it is . hope you enjoy !!

Warnings: none, just a lot of fluff cause everyone loves george

Word Count: 3.5k

Spring break was winding down to a close as early April broke through. New life was brought to fruition as the snow from the harsh winter evaporated into the ground. Outside the grounds of the Weasley’s home were fields and fields of open land. Flowers sprouted in every step creating a kaleidoscope of colors. Those tumbling plains seemed to extend for miles beyond the horizon. Just beyond those grassy hills and slopes was a large, secluded meadow.

It was the early hours of a Saturday morning when a pair invaded the area far before the sun began to rise. The meadow Y/n and George had been occupying seemed to be the perfect location to view the birth of the new season. The perfect spot to enjoy each other’s company. Soon they would be ushered back to Kings Cross and board the Hogwarts Express- George for his last time and Y/n, well it certainly wouldn’t be her last time, no matter how hard she dreamed it was. The topic of George leaving Hogwarts was one the couple tip-toed around. Break was only two weeks but that meant two extra weeks for the pair to be together. With the school year tumbling to an end, George would be leaving school soon with his brother to start his dream and Y/n would be stuck needing to finish her last year at Hogwarts alone. The girl was a year below her boyfriend and although it never caused any friction for the pair, the gap was finally giving them issues.

In George’s mind, arriving to his last school year was both an accomplishment, and a burden. As excited as he was to finally leave those stone walls that held him back, the last thing he wanted was to leave her behind. It didn’t make any of the pain easier knowing that he’d be leaving alongside Fred earlier than the rest of their classmates. Y/n had been the only other living soul Fred and George had filled in on their grand exit plan. They needed someone to keep guard and be a lookout so who better than the one person they trusted not to run their mouth.

There was a heavy smell of earth in the air, mixed with the faint odor of new growth. The vivid green leaves and the cheerful colors of the blossoms are a feast. Flowers popped up from the soiled ground and the fruit hanging from the trees were starting to come to life.

The couple had spent a good portion of their break at the secluded meadow. In a way, it became their little secret spot. Not that it was a secret location by any means. Fred and George had discovered the meadow a few years back when they had ventured miles away from the burrow. The boys were always adventurous, especially when Molly and Arthur finally allowed them free range outside the family home when they were eleven. There were miles and miles of tall grass and woodland that made it easy to get lost. Of course with Fred and George, losing their way was never a worry. When the boys stumbled upon the breathtaking meadow, George seemed to be the only one interested in their find. Fred had wandered off into the section of forest they entered through, his attention captured by a group of baby deer camouflage in the woods. For years George would wander back to the meadow on his own when he needed a break from the loudness of his siblings or grew tired of Ron trailing on his coattails every turn. He promised himself he would keep the spot to himself, let it be his own private sanctuary. This plan ran smooth for a few years before George made the exception to break the rule for one person only.

But for now, the two could only take advantage of the time they had together and they didn’t intend to spend a second apart. It looked as if Y/n and George had stepped straight into a storybook. The grass was Eden-green and thigh-high to a thrush. A neon-blue ribbon of river ran through the ground in a squiggle line. A party of bright yellow ducklings scattered in the calm water, small quacks filling the air. Chirping and sweet songs from the birds made that feeling of Spring become a reality. Buzzing bumble bees and wildflowers sprung along the land. The sounds of nature engulfed the girl whole as she melted into the soft grass.

“I could stay here for the rest of my life- away from people, away from the world. It’s peaceful.” Y/n hummed softly. Her large doe eyes observed the clouds that formed a perfect line-up in the baby blue sky, as if they were boats safely moored in celestial harbour. Peeks of sunlight seeped in through the cracks in the fluffy clouds casting a shimmering light as they danced slowly by in the sky. Just a moment before she was listing off all the animals and objects she saw in the sky. Now she was considering the thought of staring at them forever.

George stole a quick glance down where she laid in his lap. Strands of her h/c hair flowing across his legs and hands. It tickled against his skin as a light breeze swept past. Her abrupt words had caught him off guard. He had missed the sound of her voice for the last hour, although adored the trance-like state of happiness that she was in so he was constantly biting his tongue to keep his thoughts from pouring out. Now that she was somewhat back to earth, he was eager to chat. Tilting his head in her direction George raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah?” He questioned.

A smile graced her lips as she nodded in confirmation. The land was beautiful, unlike anything she had seen. There certainly weren’t any meadows with such serenity as this in the city of London. For once in her life she could hear the sound of her heart beating in the quietness of the open land and she loved it. No cars honking, no crabby cityfolk shoving their way through crowds, no taxi drivers screaming at pedestrians to move, no bright lights, just nature and all of its creations.

Extending her arm, Y/n pointed out to the land. George followed her direction to see she was gesturing to a small section of the meadow that was surrounded by an eyecatching army of poppies and bellflowers. A large willow tree stood towering over the side. In the middle was a bare section- large enough for a home to fit. Y/n grinned in excitement as she suddenly sat up straight.

“Yeah. Build a little cottage, start a garden, maybe even a family… I think it would be lovely.” She said dreamily. Her eyes looked up to George in wonder, silently asking him to share his opinion. Mirroring her previous actions, George scanned the meadow. He placed his hand against his chin, pretending to think long and hard about her idea. Y/n giggled besides him and shoved him lightly on the shoulder. He chuckled in response and leaned back into the log supporting him. George nodded in agreement to the pondering dream.

There was a casual grace to the meadow, as if it has a peripheral awareness of its own beauty yet would rather be at peace in this warm sun. It was quaint and humble yet glowing in - like a glorious mansion hidden away in a forest. A hidden gem that was to be kept away from the rest of society. Their own little happy place that opened and bloomed just for them. There was something so magical about the meadow that George couldn’t pass it up. It felt like fate leading him there- leading them.

“Think we could make that work. The family part is a definante- it’s just building a home that’ll take a bit of time. We could get started on making a family of our own right now-” George was cut off when a hand clamped over his mouth. Although he was only joking, he wouldn’t be opposed to the idea.

“George-” She warned playfully.

“Or in a few years. But living out here would be nice. ‘S not like I got to worry about commuting for work. It’d be a nice escape from the shop once we get business running, and once you graduate. Not to mention moving out here would mean I’d get to see more of you in that pretty dress. Flowers in your hair... you look so enchanting, darling.” A bashfulness struck Y/n to her core at his words. Her eyes instinctively shot down to the grass as a paint of red rose to her face. George’s heart quite literally stuttered at her reaction. Making her blush, seeing her smile because of something he said never failed to bring a sense of happiness to George. That damn smile, he thought to himself. He was sure she could convince him of anything when that innocent look took over. It was natural for her. Y/n was simply ethereal in every way.

His hand brushed as gently as a feather across the skin of her cheek. Pushing the daisy back in place behind her ear, George drew his hand down from her ear to her neck. Gripping her softly George pulled her towards his body, lessening the space between the pair. Dipping his head he leaned in towards the girl until their lips were only inches apart. He smirked teasingly, ready to make a remark when Y/n took matters into her own hands.

Linking her hand around his chin she pulled his face in hers with a deep kiss. Although she initiated the gesture, it was George’s response that made her lose all sense of control. His large hands moved from her face to her waist in an instant. Much to Y/n’s surprise he lifted her without warning, still holding her lips in his, and placed her in his lap so she was facing him. Her hands instinctively switched to wrap around his neck for stability. Fingers gripped at his short ginger locks as she adjusted her hips into his.

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as her entire body got weaker. She could only focus on how soft he felt against her mouth, how addictively he invaded all her senses. Everytime their lips met a rush of adrenaline and love ran through her veins. The muscles in her body went limp at his touch, jelly like. George held a tight lock around her waist keeping her steady against him. He slipped his tongue against her mouth, visibly shuddering when she slid her tongue against his in return. Tension was pooling by the second as the kiss intensified. Y/n’s strawberry dress cascaded down the side of legs as she repositioned in his lap earning a groan from George. Hot breath fanned against her face briefly at her movements. His hand darted from the small of her back to the exposed skin on her upper thigh, pushing her further into his body. The vibration of his voice against her lips and the tight grip of his hands on her thighs sent shivers down her spine. His kiss was sweet, like a long awaited embrace. Stars blurred her vision as George gripped her against his chest. The moment was quickly turning into a not so innocent kiss causing Y/n to slowly detach her lips from his. As she pulled away she remained sat in his lap, fingers brushing along the skin of his face as she admired his beauty. A smug smile was displayed on his face while he repositioned his hands behind his body to hold the pair up. Still holding his face in her palms, Y/n pressed forward to scatter a line of kisses on his cheeks. He chuckled in amusement before her kiss latched to his mouth once more. Between short and passionate pecks she fought for words to tell him how much he meant to her. She wanted to tell him all the emotions of love and desire he brought onto her. Tell him how she could never live with another- how he was the only one she wanted for the rest of her life.

“You’re too good to me, George.” She whispered against his lips. The lack of space between them was intoxicating. Heat emanated from George’s cheeks as he desperately attempted to regain his breath and compose himself. His chest was light with air caused by the sweetness of the girl before him. A small smear of glitter lip gloss covered his bottom lip in a shine.

George tasted a hint of bubble gum as his tongue swept along the skin of his bottom lip.

“I’d give you the whole world if I could but I’m afraid I don’t have the coins for that yet, princess.” Pressing his forehead against hers, George hummed the words. Y/n shook her head with a smile as she countered his grand proposition with one of her own.

“All I need is a quaint, cozy cottage out here and you… well a dog or a kitten would be nice too.” She laughed.

George could only stare at her in that moment. Her words registered although the naturalness to her beauty was too much for him to process. The sun hit her back in with such purpose it was as if she were an angel breaking through the sky. Her strawberry midi dress flowed down her sides and pooled in between his legs. Pretty pink satin clung to her form. The sparkling red strawberries fitted her perfectly. The ruffles on her shoulders gave her the look of a cottage princess, a fairy even. Hair flowing freely in the wind, it was a sight he’d never grow tired of seeing. He’d never seen someone as breathtaking as her.

Taking advantage of his silence, Y/n looked up to George in seriousness. His large brown eyes stared lovingly back to her. Gesturing to the meadow surrounding them, Y/n asked him,

“Do you think you’d be happy out here?”

George tore his stare from the girl to scope out the land once more. All the years he spent wandering down here alone in his mind and looking for some sort of answer to life, now he had found it. He could already picture where he would build a playset for the children and where he’d be able to make a small Quidditch pitch to teach your future kids. Ideas were forming for the house and how many rooms you’d both want. George was thinking somewhere around eight- extra room for more kids. Mapped out where the house would go, where he’d build a garden for you, figured out what tree would be perfect for him to put together a treehouse with Fred for the kids, and where the path would go towards the lake. The layout was quickly forming and he wanted in.

Y/n watched in curiosity as the thoughts swarmed through her lover’s head. She could see him intently thinking things over, then smiling before tilting his face back down at the girl. His head moved down so his lips could press against the skin of her forehead as he kissed her.

“Darling, as long as I’m with you, I’ll be more than happy.” He reassured her.

Y/n melted into the warmth provided by his lips. Her body leaned into his, desperate for more of him. George wrapped his arm around her shoulder tightly and fixed his body so he was sitting tall. She clung to his frame like a koala to a tree, burying her face into the material of his hoodie.

“Once I graduate?” Her muffled voice vibrated against his sternum. George ran his fingers up and down her spine as he held her tight.

“Once you graduate.” George repeated sincerely. Although they’d gone over the conversation a million different times, Y/n couldn’t help the shadow of doubts that crept into her mind. She trusted George with all her heart- every inch of her being but they’d be living in two separate worlds for a year and she worried that was something he might not want. Maybe he would realize he wanted to be with a girl his age, or someone older, someone not stuck at Hogwarts. Even without reason for worry, it still came.

Remaining in his hold yet moving back slightly, Y/n’s eyes darted to the flower covered ground. Her fingers ran along the petals absentmindedly as she worked to find the courage to speak. Her shift in emotions did not go unnoticed by the boy. George focused on the look of contemplation adorning her. As adorable as she looked, he hated seeing her in the slightest bit of distress. This went for any situation whether Y/n was stressed about a class, feeling ill, or just sad because she’s hungry, George does everything in his control to fix it for her.

“You’ll wait for me?” The sudden question took George aback. Her tone was a mix of innocence and fear. His confusion arose for the grave manner of her inquiry. Even if her worries were astonishingly unworldly to George, he knew better than to shut down her insecurities brashly. If the topic at hand weren’t so significant to their relationship, he might even crack a joke. However the seriousness in her features was not to be ignored.

George reached out to interlock his fingers through her warm hands. That comforting smile of his graced his face as he brought her knuckles up to his lips and placed a trial of kisses along the bones.

“Of course I’ll wait, love. No other girl I’d want to spend the rest of my life with- no other girl I want to call my wife, the mother of my children. No one but you, my love.” George insisted. It seemed magical to Y/n the way he always knew exactly what to say. Always so heartfelt and honest in meaning. He never told her a lie to make her happy but somehow managed to piece together a perfect string of words to make her whole again. Something in the way he spoke, in his words, it made her believe nearly anything was plausible. Most of all, she trusted him and believed that he had every intention of sticking around, which brought a sneaking grin to Y/n’s face. All those worries washed away at his words. It was a part she loved deeply about him.

The feeling of George’s touch smoothing over the bottom of her pink dress pulled Y/n back to the meadow. The scent of lavender and vanilla wafted past his nose from the perfume he had gifted her for Christmas. His fingers would skim against her bare leg in a teasing fashion as he smirked. Y/n let out a giggle at the tickling sensation of his touch. Her arms wrapped around his neck for support while her bashful grin never ceased.

“There’s that pretty smile.” George remarked with a chuckle. A sense of victory took hold of him at seeing her worries vanish. Arms locked around his neck, Y/n pulled him towards her as her head fell to his chest. Given their limited time, all the couple wanted to do for the next month was be in each other’s arms. George cherished every opportunity he got to hold her, knowing he’d spend the next year missing her everyday. It came in the little things as well like the way her hair always smelled like a basket of delicious fruits, or how she’d hum to herself while they were studying together. He already knew he’d spend most days babbling on to Fred about how much he missed Y/n. Break was almost over which meant the twins would be leaving Hogwarts for good within a few weeks. Y/n dreaded the idea of not seeing George every day, not getting to kiss him or hug him. George hated thinking about having to hear from her through letters and not getting to hear that sweet laughter every day. So for now, all George wanted was to hold his girl and enjoy the excitement for their future he felt budding inside of him.

The colors in the sky were starting to grow brighter by the minute and without saying it, the pair both knew they’d be needing to head back to The Burrow for lunch sooner then they’d care to admit. In the serenity of the meadows the couple found a sense of home. Y/n soaked in their last bits of time in the meadow before George mentioned them heading back. Although neither moved at his words but instead remained holding onto one another.

“I love you, George.”

“I love you more, princess.”

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drcalmreid · 4 years ago

Text

books and braids - s.r.

pairing: fem reader x spencer reid

summary: angst/fluff — spencer asks you to braid his hair to relax after a rough week

content warning: brief mention of a male unsub and his victims! (tw: death, kidnapping, cutting hair, female victims)

word count: 1.7k

authors notes: I don’t even know what this is...I just couldn’t stop thinking about how cute Spence would look in braids, anyway enjoy xxx

gif credit: @zhuzhubii

YOUR POV

My thumbs run over the edges of my book as I flip the page, stretching out my legs across the length of the couch. I lift my eyes from the pages of The Alchemist and look at Spencer. He’s propped up against the armrest of the large leather chair he’s sat in, with his fingers scanning the pages and his left palm cupping his cheek. I close my book and toss it on the couch next to me, I slouch down on the couch and toss my braided hair over my shoulder. Pressing my cheek against the pillows and lose myself in looking at him. The soft glow of his reading lamp lights up his small apartment, bouncing off the endless bookshelves and olive green walls. The sun has set since we both started reading hours ago, just the two of us in his apartment enjoying one another's company after a rough case the day before. After being together for a while, I have been able to pick up on his cues when he’s hurt and wants his space versus when he’s hurting and needs comforting...but this time, I have no clue what he needs.

“In most cultures it’s considered impolite to stare,” Spencer says without breaking his gaze away from his book.

“Mmm,” I hum sitting up on the couch to look at him even more. “Actually, staring has been proven to be a sign of attraction in modern society.”

“Is that so?” Spencer chuckles and closes his book, placing it on the side table next to his chair. I nod at him and bring my legs up to my chest crossing them to sit cross-legged on the leather sofa. He stands from his chair and takes a few steps towards me, before kneeling in front of the couch. Spencer rests his arms on my lap and looks up at me, “hi,” he whispers after a while.

“Hi,” I reply back and take a free hand to run it through his curls. Spencer instinctively leans into my touch and his eyes flutter shut. My hands continue to run though his hair and I gently scratch his scalp. After a moment or two, Spencer opens his eyes again and crawls onto the couch, practically on top of me. I guess he needs comforting, I think to myself and I lay down on the couch and Spencer presses his chest against mine gently collapsing into me. He rests his head against my shoulder, his lips inches from my neck and I wrap my legs around his. He hums contently as his arms loop around my body, bringing us even closer than before. My left hand goes back to his head and runs my fingers through his hair, while my right traces patterns on his back.

“Spence,” I mumble quietly. He hums in response so I know he hasn’t fallen asleep and I continue, “are you okay? You didn’t talk much when you came home yesterday and we barely talked today, if you don’t want to that’s fine. I just-“ I sigh and raise my hand from his back and run careful fingers over his exposed cheek. “I just don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me.”

“I know,” he says, turning his face to rest his chin on my chest, his eyes opening slightly to peer up at me. He smiles gently before laying his head back down, “thank you...it isn’t that I don’t want to talk about it, I just can’t right now.”

“Oh,” I sigh and return his gentle smile. I look down at him fondly and continue to comb out his hair.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want you to overthink anything...it’s not your fault. I just can’t bring myself to discuss it yet...the case was really bad, (y/n).”

I nod and press a kiss to his forehead. His eyes close in response and he grins to himself. Spencer has never been one for attention or physical affection, but over time, somehow he’s grown to be the more clingy and physical one. He even surprised his team when he willingly kissed me in front of them, because he said I was “just different”.

“Can I ask you something?” Spencer says and draws me out from my own thoughts.

“Of course,” I smile.

“Can you,” he hesitates and turns his face away from my chest, leaning up on his elbows to look at me in the eyes. My hand drops from his hair and cups his cheek, he presses a kiss into my palm before finishing, “braid my hair? No—sorry that was stupid, I don’t know why I-“

“Spencer,” I cut into his flustered stuttering. “Do you want two braids or one?” His smile grows to an impossibly large size and his eyes crinkle up at the corners.

“Surprise me.”

—

“How did you learn how to do this?” Spencer asks looking at me through the reflection of the mirror. I’m sitting on the edge of his bed, Spencer between my legs, his back flushed up against the box spring.

“Braid hair?” I ask and he nods, “well, I always knew how to do basic braids because of my mom, but I taught myself how to French braid due to lots of YouTube videos.”

Spencer smiles at me through the mirror and his eyes fix on my fingers in his hair. Twisting the pieces over one another, slowly adding smaller sections I complete my small French braid at the top of Spencer’s hair. Two tightly woven braids lay on the top of his scalp, leaving his curls below loose and free in a half up-half down style. I pull out some pieces from the front of his braids to frame his face and I look fondly at him. He’s beautiful.

“You look so handsome Spence,” I smile and run my fingers up through the bottom of his unbraided hair. A blush creeps onto Spencer’s cheeks and he tries to hide it by peering his face away and into his hands. “Hey,” I pull his hands down, still watching him through the reflection. “I mean it, you look...hot”

“No-” Spencer starts to protest, his blush deepening.

“Yes you do...you look hot, but also kind of beautiful at the same time,” I giggle and Spencer does too. He rises from the ground in one steady movement and stands between my legs. He leans down and places a soft kiss on my lips.

“Thank you,” he says and kisses my nose before standing back up. His large hands cup my face and his eyes scan over my every feature.

“Do you like them—the braids?” I ask.

“I love them,” he smiles and drops a hand from my cheek to grab the ends of my hair. “We match.”

We both chuckle at his corniness, but my heart flutters at the thought of Spencer, Dr. Genius, wanting to have matching hair with his girlfriend….who would have thought?

“Yknow,” Spencer clears his throat with a small cough. “The case…”

I patt the side of the bed next to me and Spencer takes my cue and sits. He fiddles with his fingers and won’t look at me.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” I say breaking the silence and placing my hands over his restless ones. Spencer nods, but continues.

“The unsub was killing women with long hair, he would cut it and keep boxes upon boxes of their hair. He made wigs out of the hair, long straight ones. One victim, she looked like you…” Spencer hesitates and looks up to meet my eyeline. I nod my head to tell him it’s okay to keep going. “She had the same hair color, eye color, everything...my heart stopped when I saw her photo. For a second, I thought ‘that’s (y/n)’.”

This breaks him….Spencer sniffles as a steady stream of tears rolls down his cheeks. I move back on the bed and pull him with me. Instinctively, Spencer follows and cuddles into my side as I run my hands over his back. A sob rattles his chest and Spencer cries into my side.

“Shhh,” I coo and squeeze him tight. “I’m here. I’m fine.”

“I know, I just—I’m sorry”

“Spencer, you never have to apologize to me for this stuff...ever.”

Spencer shakes his head and buries his face again in my side. Silence falls between us again aside from Spencer’s soft cries. My hands continue to move up and down his back trying my best to comfort him. I just know I have to be there for him.

“Yknow,” I say, cutting into the silence. “I could teach you how to braid my hair….it’s not hard and I’m pretty sure that big ol’ brain of yours can handle it.” I whisper, placing a kiss on the top of his head, right onto the braids in his perfect hair. Spencer pulls away from me and his reddened eyes crinkle up as his smile widens

“You can teach me?” He asks sitting up on the bed looking back at me.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure this is the only thing I’ll be able to teach you, Spence—”

“No,” Spencer cuts me off and sits cross-legged on the bed facing me. “You’ve taught me so much (y/n). More than you know. I know how to love again because of you...I knew when I saw that victim on the board I had to tell you I loved you because I didn’t want it to be too late...I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you too, Spencer.” I smile and Spencer presses his lips to mine. “So these braids…I think we should start with the basics first.”

“Mmm,” Spencer nods, acting overly enthusiastic. “I think that’s the perfect place to start, Professor (y/n).”

—

well, its official, I can't stop writing about Spencer ...and I may or may not be writing another as y'all read this... ;) requests are open!

leave requests here! // masterlist

stay safe and wear a mask! -m

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid writing #dr spencer reid #spence reid #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds writing #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x female!reader #spencer x y/n #dr reid #spencer reid blurb

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limitlessgojo · 3 years ago

Text

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 4)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: What's Your Ideal Type?

Next Chapter: Special Grade

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty. Double update this week since the story is moving along fast.

CHAPTER 4: Cherry Blossom Storm

You finally reached your classroom. It wasn’t large as there were only 4 1st year students who enrolled this year. A black board, some desks, and a huge view from outside.

“Wowww, the campus view from here is so pretty!” You quickly made your way to the open window. The cherry blossoms were in full bloom. It is spring and the school year starts in April.

Noritoshi stood by your side and stared at you. “Yeah we have a pretty good view here. The view from the roof is much better if you would like me to show you?”

“Sure.” you replied absentmindedly. You reached out a hand towards the petals and flowers blowing in the wind and used your technique to pull them to you. You stared at the cherry blossom in the centre of your hand.

You turned to Noritoshi with a hint of mischief in your eyes. “Have you ever felt what it was like to be in the midst of a flower storm?” He stared affixed at the way you freely used your cursed energy.

He grew up understanding that cursed energy is limited. It has a slow recharge and should not be used meaninglessly. And here you were, using yours without a care in the world.

But then you must have a lot if you look as relaxed as you are now. Plus he can sense the huge amount of cursed energy swirling around you. It was one of the reasons why he immediately walked up to greet you when you both first met.

“I don’t, would you perhaps show me?” he asked. You grinned at him, “Please bring me to the rooftop.”

The rooftop was a marvelous view. At about 4 stories high, you could see the surrounding forest around the campus, as well as the more urbanised city from a distance. You beckoned Noritoshi to the center of the space and he stood in front of you.

Then you put both palms up, one diagonally on top of the other in kind of like a v shape before whispering, “Tornado: Soft Blossom Style”. Immediately a wind channel formed in your hands and attracted the flower petals and loose cherry blossoms that have fallen from trees. They spun around both of you faster and faster until you were both in the midst of a mini flower tornado.

“What a sight.” Noritoshi smiled up as he could smell the petals from up close. He reached up to pick a flower, but they were moving way too fast. So you caught a few full undamaged blossoms and placed it in his hands. “My mum has similar abilities with plants. She taught me how to control them like this.” You admitted.

You released your technique and the petals slowly drifted downwards like a gentle flower shower. “Clear skies with a hint of flower fall.” You said out of nowhere. Noritoshi couldn’t help but laugh out loud at that as he pocketed the flowers. “What a weather report.”

You smiled at him not noticing the figures by the door who were attracted to your mini flower storm. “Waaaa~ What’s all this for?”

You quickly turned to see two girls. One with blonde hair and one with short dark green hair that was almost black. “Nishimiya, Mai.” Noritoshi senpai called out.

Ah, so more school mates. The short blonde ran out and reached up for the petals, while the other followed from behind.

“Hello, I am an incoming first year here. Tsuchimikado Y/N, It is nice to meet you.” You greeted them with a bow.

“Ahhh, that Tsuchimikado huh?” to which you looked back up to the taller pretty woman with short hair. “The name’s Mai. Zenin Mai. Looks like we’ll be fellow classmates. Please take care of me.”

Zenin?! Whoa now there are two students here at Kyoto Jujutsu High who come from the Great 3 Jujutsu Families.

“Nishimiya Momo, 2nd year student. Just call me Momo senpai, Tsuchimikado chan. We saw the flowers from down below and just came to check what’s happening.”

“Is it okay if I address you as y/n chan?” Momo senpai asked. “Yes y/n is fine senpai, I don’t mind too much. I’ll be in both of your care!” You smiled at them.

“So what are you both doing up here Kamo-kun?” Momo turned to him. He calmly replied “I was bringing her around campus. She wanted to see the view from the rooftop.”

“Ahhh. So what Todo said about both of you being on a date wasn’t true then?”

You solemnly vowed to beat that man up the next time you see him. He knew what he was doing and he was provoking you very well. Still, it didn’t stop you and Noritoshi from both flushing hard, “It’s not a date!” You both exclaimed at the same time.

Mai was smirking. “Okay then. By the way, Y/n chan, our uniforms have arrived. I was just walking with Momo to the office to pick it up. Would you want to come along?”

You brightened up, “Of course I’ll go!” To which Noritoshi came up behind you and smiled as he leaned down to reach your height. “I have some other errands to do, you can go ahead with them.”

“Ah, th-thank you again for showing me around. I think I am more familiar with the place now.” You bowed again. He shook his head, “I’ve already got something better from you,” as he motioned to the flowers on the ground. “Now if you three would excuse me.”

After he left, you quickly blew all the flowers off the roof and towards the ground. “I made a mess without thinking.” You worriedly said. “Y/n, don’t worry about it. C’mon let’s go.” Momo pulled you along.

Mai just stared at the space where a bunch of petals were at a moment ago. ‘A natural born talent huh.’ She thought with a bit of jealousy as she turned to follow you guys.

◇◇◇

“Here you are!” The window handed you and Mai your uniforms. “Thank you so much!” You smiled at them. You looked over the custom made fits and everything seemed correct.

You had requested for pants and a short sleeved top along with a cape over it. You can also wear your favorite haori if not the cape. The top and the cape both have the Jujutsu High Buttons on them.

You had lunch with the girls and chatted with them, getting to know them a bit better. You discovered that Momo senpai was also admitted based on her family lineage. “Y/n chan, you also got in via your family?”

“Yes I did! My family is a bit small, but we are descendants of-”

“Abe no Seimei.” Mai finished for you, You turned to look at her in surprise before realizing that she was from the Zenin clan, of course they have a lot of information on the rest of the Jujutsu society.

You nodded at her. “You’re from the Zenin clan right Mai chan? Is that how you know Noritoshi senpai?”

“Yes, the big 3 Jujutsu clans have always been in touch with each other, so we know each other from a while back.” She replied.

You’re definitely not jealous that she knows Noritoshi. Definitely not.

“Noritoshi senpai? You don’t call him Kamo senpai?” Momo asked curiously.

“Ahh, he told me to call him that…?” You hesitantly asked. Momo’s eyes sparkled dangerously.

“Reaaally?? Mr. ‘I only care about studying and being the next Kamo clan head’ Noritoshi said that to you?”

What.

“Next clan head what?!” You were surprised. The whole time you were so casual with him, making him bring you around. Should you have been more formal?

“Ah, you didn’t know.” The two other girls stared at you in growing amusement, while you flapped around nervously.

“Oh my gosh and I was so casual with him?!” you panicked. “Should I be more formal with him from now on?”

Mai shrugged. “Dunno. I honestly don’t think he minds. He and Todo, they’re both a pain in the ass.”

“Have you also met Todo senpai? He asked me what my ideal type was earlier! So odd.” You said, to which Momo senpai just groaned out. “I’m classmates with both of them and they’re definitely a huge pain to deal with. Todo is just obsessed with his favorite idol Takada chan. Just ignore him, it will do you good. Trust me.” she added as an afterthought.

“If you say so.” You replied. The girls were nice, you were happy that there were some people you would get along with for sure.

◇◇◇

“Utahime sensei,” Noritoshi called out by the door to the staff room. “Coming! Just a moment!”

“Oh, it’s just you Kamo. What is it?” Utahime asked as she leaned against the door frame.

“There is this book I was reading, but I found some essential pages torn out. I borrowed it from the library.” He handed the volume over to Utahime, who checked it.

“Tsk, tsk. How could we have missed that? Must be a very old untouched volume. ‘The Tales and True Records of Soulmates’”. She looked up at him in curiosity. “What did you need it for?”

He cooly replied with the strongest poker face he had, “My father told me to be well versed in all forms and matters of Jujutsu. Some origins of special powers were known to originate from soulmate or fated pairs, and thus it piqued my interest.”

“Ah. I see,” Utahime hummed. “Well, we can’t do anything about it, but I can ask the library heads if they know of the origins of this book, so that we can locate the missing pages. But if you’d like I can help you locate more books on soulmates? If that helps? But I can’t go now. Maybe next week after class starts.”

“Yes, if you could please do so. Thank you sensei.”

Noritoshi returned to his dorm, and upon remembering the flowers that you had gifted him from the little flower show from earlier. He brought them out, smiling and touching the soft petals.

Then set to work on pressing and preserving the flowers in a thick book.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #kamo noritoshi x you #noritoshi fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #noritoshi x reader #jjk x oc #noritoshi x you #kamo noritoshi x y/n #jjk kamo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #blood bound #red strings of fate

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katsukikitten · 4 years ago

Text

Warnings College AU sexual and adult themes. Yall know the drill okay

Chapter 2

Bugzapper⚡💔: i have a proposition to make.

Jiro flashes Mina her phone as she sips iced coffee in the blessed air conditioning of the cafe.

"That's never a good sign." She comments, moon bright eyes glued to the phone as she thinks.

"What's not a good sign?" Uraraka asks from across the table, the two girls fill her in.

"Oh." She racks her brain on what that could be, "Okay well I'm dying to know, now."

🎵Music to my soul 🎶 : What do you want airhead?

Jiro's text sent a surge of excitement through Kaminari. It was exactly what he needed after three hours of begging and bribing Bakugou to allow the sorority in or at least invite them. His fingers fly across the screen setting up a date and time for a "meeting over lunch" to discuss the proposition in further detail.

Meanwhile across campus, you huff, eyes narrowed as a rare emotion is pulled from your fingertips in the form of deadly ice. Pulling the moisture from the air to freeze it or pulling any water towards you to keep your flank safe as your opponent rushes you at breakneck speeds.

You hated this fucking guy, cocky, brash, so God damn arrogant in the way he held himself, in the way he spoke. It made you nauseous just thinking of him.Had you known he was the male star of this university you wouldn't have transferred, yet you still needed to transfer didn't you? Anything to get out from under the shadow of a certain Todoroki.

No one cared to admit or to notice, that your quirk was different from Shoto's. You could manipulate water towards you to freeze, and manipulate whatever was already frozen. Your ice was denser and more durable than his and dare you say it colder than his too. Yet no one gave a shit, his was ice AND fire. You were just a one trick pony and a trick they already saw. Your opponent's taunting doesn't help matters much.

"I've already seen this before Ice Brat. Did ya forget where I fucking went to high school?" His hand heats the ice as he activates his quirk before three deafening blasts ring out.

As you allow him to break down the ice you act on pure rage, securing some revenge from the first time he signed your hair. Pointed icicles lie in wait and once the wall is fully down you give him a nasty smirk before sending the straight his way.

You're supposed to melt your weapons before they hit your opponent, neither of you are supposed to go all out per the professor's and college's strict rules in the athletics department but Bakugou always does. Somehow his big stupid mouth spews something that eggs you on. As if someone were shoving bamboo skewers beneath your skin, under your nails, sending you into an unheard of rage.

Normally you were as your quirk, icy, unbothered by the world but Bakugou, God you could wring his neck. Freeze his hot blood as you watch him turn into slush beneath your feet.

He expects you to abide by the rules, to splash him with glacier water but he realizes it too late. That you won't he let's off a quick blast, shattering two of the four deadly points. One grazes his cheek as he just barely dodges while the other lodges itself into his arm.

You have half a mind to twist it. You pull at his blood bringing it into your arsenal. Blood red needles and bullets surround Bakugou.

"I don't think you've seen this before.." You say darkly ready to release your hold and shred him into, give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe he would see how bitter and nauseating he was. He smirks, opening his mouth to retort but you send your ice his way aiming for non vital spots although the ice creeps closer to your heart begging it to hit something vital. The inside of your ice palace begins to reek of burning sugar and spice, he plans to let out an explosion to bring this whole place down from the inside out.

Just as he is about to detonate and just as the blood and ice are about to pierce skin the professor bursts into the gym.

"I step out for five minutes and this is what happens?!"

The ice and blood return to liquid splashing across Bakugou as his skin pops. The professor takes in the damage from your ice and his explosions, still better controlled than most of his other students quirks.

"I gotta stop pairing these two together." He murmurs to himself before dismissing class. With a flick of your wrist the ice fortress melts, returning to the reservoir below the gym floor, ignoring the molten glare that is sent your way.

"You're such a bitch." Bakugou growls as you pass, flinging blood from his fingers as he wipes at his face. You offer him a fake pitying smile before heading into the women's locker room.

"Fucking asshole." You hiss, forcing the sight of his garnet gaze out of your mind. Instead turning your attention to your buzzing phone in your locker. It's a few missed calls and some texts in the girl's group chat. Briefly you wonder if you ever should have joined that stupid sorority, it was small, non toxic, and would look good should you need to transfer again.

Not only did you somehow get elected the president but you also became friends with the three other ladies despite your best efforts not too.

Mins: Prez we might have a way to save the sorority...lunch after you're done with training?

IceQueen ❄: Hope it's good, the Dean already put the house up for sale. Let me get ready and I'll be there shortly.

Mina presents her phone to the crowd around her, Kirishima, Denki, Sero, Jiro and Uraraka do a small celebration. Denki more so than anyone else, he knows the combined car washes will be more than enough to fix up the house, he also recently learned that you had the power of negotiation on your side. Having just listened to Mina retell the story of how you got free food for a month from a bar for yourself and your friends. And not from some sleaze who wanted to sleep with you either, no it was from the owner himself.

Denki is hopeful and so are the ladies indicating that this may be his best idea yet.

You arrive at the small bistro early, spying your party on the front patio. The three men had seen you in person before, they knew you were easy on the eyes but up close you were breathtaking. Manicured nails but nothing gaudy, normally nude or soft shades, light makeup, mascara at most as far as they could tell and your outfit was well put together. You were what the world called plus size but everyone else called thiccc. Your confidence oozing in your light blouse tucked into your black skinny jeans, uncaring that you had a pouch.

You needed that extra fat to keep from freezing by your own quirk. The only thing you needed society to worry about was your intelligence and your power.

Both were SSR ranked so what did you fucking care that your body was ranked lower. They were stupid in thinking you'd skimp power in the name of vanity.

You recognize everyone at the table and internalize the dread you're feeling. Scheming is afoot and you're the last to arrive. You can tell by their half finished drinks and picked over appetizer, still you sit and act unaware. Denki goes to hold out his hand first for a formal introduction causing a sly cat smile to settle over your glossy lips.

"No need, I'm aware of who the three of you are. Sero we share our lingual class, Denki, our chemistry class, and Kirishima we share two classes, world studies and villain hero theory. Truly a pleasure." You tell then your name before ordering something to drink from the lingering waitress. Sitting stick straight with your shoulders backs has the men mirroring you.

"Well ladies I take it the plan to save the sorority involves these fine gentlemen." You ask coolly and they nod. After a moment of silence Mina and Denki go to speak. Awkwardly encouraging the other to speak until Minai clears her throat.

"As you know they are a newly formed frat with Sero as their president. They moved into their house about a month ago and they say it is quite large. So they have invited us to move in."

"How do you propose we ask the college to have a co-ed house? What does this fraternity home even look like?" They knew you would be quick to ask questions Mina answers the first while Denki provides the answer to the second.

"Union and Diversity. Forming close relationships now to carry over into our hero careers."

"The house needs some work but looks a lot better than what it did." Denki shows you before and after pictures as you gesture for his phone. He passes you his electric yellow case with nervous hope tingling beneath his skin. You swipe through the photos.

"You boys did a great job on the outside. Inside needs a lot of work. Hardwoods will be easy to fix, they are original but don't seen to be damaged, a good scrub will spruce them up. Wait, are those?" You zoom in on the photo of the living room, "Are those foldable camping chairs and a VHS tv?"

They gulp loudly as they nod, your purse your lips in disapproval.

"I can fix that." You pass Denki back his phone, assuming that all the roommates will be present, "I see the main focus was the kitchen but some of the appliances seem to be on their last legs. I can fix that as well."

"Soooo….So it's a yes?" Jiro asks, feeling relief for the first time in months since they received the letter of eviction.

"Gotta get the college to agree first." You think on it a moment, "But I'm sure we can arrange that. Uraraka can you draft an email to the Dean requesting an official meeting regarding our sorority? Be sure to explain in detail our situation, how we are being forced to disband by their account and the solution we have. Make sure it's an afternoon meeting too. The dean hates to miss golf with our rival university's dean."

With the plan set in motion all of you return to your evening classes. Jiro nudges Denki in the ribs, listening to his heart race from their closeness.

"When are we going to tell her about Bakugou?" She throws her almost lover a look that he seems to wither beneath. His jaw tics before he retorts.

"I think we should wait to see if this even works first."

After a week the important meeting arrives and as you thought the Dean is already exhibiting signs of impatience. He is more than ready to wrap this up and you already know his answer is going to be no. Already trying to get it out before the four of you can even have a seat.

Still you weren't the Ice Queen on campus for nothing. You saunter into the room, mineola folder filled with your copies of counterpoints pressed firmly to your chest, you can already see he doesn't have the copies you sent him. You place the folder down and open it, leafing through the pages as you speak.

"This request is going to be approved and here are the reasons why. An example of sexism could be made that a new fraternity was approved housing, new housing, after a decades old sorority was deemed "too small" both parties are similar in count. Second funding and donations are easily influenced with letters to alumni and especially by attendees to this university. My transfer from YAU has brought in revenue of roughly 2.6 million dollars, increasing your diversity for women when this is normally a male dominated school. I am aware that my transfer had even encouraged other students from YAU to transfer here. Which I'm sure is one of your favorite bragging points to tell Dean Fraunk during your weekly golf trips isn't it? So it would truly be a shame if these points would come to light in the investigation of my return to YUA just months before the university sports festival. I do look amazing in Ice Blue you know. Matches my quirk a lot better than Maroon." You put the ball in his court, he is visibly upset, eyes flying to the facts that you've presented. All important, viable facts. You were right MMU was known to be a male dominated school and the media would have a field day if they uncovered a mistake he happened to look over. Not to mention you were his main bragging point, Dean Yuzi always talked about how he had stolen you, the female star of rising heroes, from YUA. The silence in the room is amplified by the ticking of the clock, seconds accumulating into minutes as it counts down his T time with his old college buddy and rival. He gulps nervously, knowing what he has to do in order to keep both his bragging rights and a law suit under wraps. He looks up to you as you wear your stone cold face, making him think of a loan shark who hasn't been getting their payments on time. He is fearful for your future boss.

"I believe I have no choice but to approve."

"Correct." You respond, "Now we have a bit more to discuss. I noticed that classrooms 456 and 215 are being remodeled. Those gently used flat screens will be given to our house since it is technically college property. Common space 3 and 1 are being renovated in dorms A and B. We will accept the leather arm chairs as they are in good shape but we demand a new couch. I know it is in the budget as I help plan the budget. I also believe it is time for an allowance for our hybrid house." The Dean shrinks away from your tenacity, nodding as that is all he can do.

"Well this is a generous offer and should cover most of the basic necessities such as a new fridge and mattress. The aesthetic we will be raising funds for. Kindly spread the word, we don't want to take up more of your time and be late with your 'meeting' with Dean Fraunk." You place a flyer on his desk as you turn on your heel. The rest of the sorority, mouth agape following suit. Yuzi looks down at the flyer, head hung in a mixture of disbelief and shame as he reads over the neon paper advertising a co-ed car wash.

He just hopes you and Bakugou are worth the trouble.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha au #bnha college au #bnha imagine

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troped-fanfic-challenge · 3 years ago

Text

JATP ROUND FOUR FICS

Long story short, we received eight (8!!) wonderful and creative Royal Soulmate AU fics for the Final Round of the JATP event! We loved to see you all challenge yourselves one last time with the themes, tropes, and pairings!

Please try to read as many fics as you can! Take some notes, leave some kudos/comments for the authors, and help us vote on the winners!

Voting will be open until June 13th at 11:59pm EST! Vote here:

https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/BZ3W5FT

———

Look, Steal From the Rich. Do It. (Rated T) [Julie/Luke]

Summary: The Rebel Alliance needs Cassavel's support.

Cassavel needs a certain artifact returned to the royal family.

Luke mostly just needs someone to explain why his entire team has been pulled off duty in order to steal a statue.

(A Julie and the Phantoms Star Wars AU that kind of looks into the ramifications of soul marks in a turbulent society, but mostly just focuses on the gang infiltrating a fancy Core World party.)

take my heart (and take my hand) (Rated T) [Alex/Willie]

Summary: The stranger smiles. “I’m Willie,” he greets.

“Alex,” Alex nods back.

“Sir,” Willie says pointedly, and smirks up at him as he bows exaggeratedly.

“The word sir is coming out of your mouth directed at me, but I don’t feel like you just addressed me as a sir at all. And please, call me Alex.”

“My apologies,” Willie hums, straightening back up. And then, pointedly, he lowers himself back into the same bow and makes deliberate eye contact with Alex. “Sir.”

Alex blinks. “You’re not going to call me Alex, are you?”

“Absolutely not, Sir.”

the princess and the lord (Rated T) [Julie/Luke]

Summary: On her eighteenth birthday, Julie Molina’s grandmother arrives in San Francisco, explains that Rose forfeited her claim to the throne of Genovia by marrying Ray, and that Julie is actually Julia Nayelis Adriana Reyes Molina, Princess of Genovia. Five years later, Julie is ready to take over the throne, but an old law surfaces and a rival for the throne, and Julie must decide between love and duty. // a JATP x Princess Diaries 2 AU

Diamond in the Rough (Rated G) [Julie/Luke]

Summary: From down below, a loud shout rings. “Here you are!” Julie’s head whips to the street and there stand three palace guards, swords being drawn.

Julie jumps away from the window and adrenaline fills her veins. Apologetically she turns to the boy who mirrored her action. “They’re after me!” she cries at the same time as him. “They’re after you?”

His hands rise to cling at his hair and he grips tightly. “My parents must have sent them- they were never supposed to find me, I’m so sorry you got caught up in this-”

Julie spends his rambling crossing the room to the doorway they had just vacated not moments before. She doesn’t have time for emotion or sentimentality to stop her this time. She can’t let them catch her. Julie spins back around, reaching her hand out for him and cutting off his verbal thoughts. “Do you trust me?”

---

The JATP Aladdin AU

Okay, So You're Interrupting the Political Guy Again, So Think About That (Rated T) [Julie/Luke]

Summary: Julie learns of the old king's death approximately five minutes before Covington pulls her to one side and tasks her with bringing the new king back to court.

Which is normal, and all perfectly good and reasonable, except for one tiny detail: the king (the new king, not the dead one) was three or four points of succession away from the throne.

In other words, he was never, ever supposed to be king.

Still, he's all that's left, so Julie guesses they might as well go ahead and work with what they've got.

This'll be totally fine.

(Julie and the Phantoms meets The Goblin Emperor meets a soulmate AU meets the author's stunning lack of what I assume is basic knowledge on how monarchies work.)

i had the time of my life, fighting dragons with you (Rated T) [Julie/Luke]

Summary: Lucius is born on a warm summer’s night. The midwife places the newborn against Emily’s chest and he looks up at her with wide eyes. He is a special baby, she knows.

Her suspicions are confirmed moments later, when the midwife gasps and points at Lucius’ back. There on her baby’s shoulder a constellation is forming. Emily instantly knows what it is. It’s a mark of the fated. They are destined for loves that burn brighter and larger than any other, loves that cross continents and defy time and space, destined to meet a soul that understands theirs as if they were two parts of a whole.

Her baby will do great things in his life.

or: luke gets hired by some noble to bring back the princess that was kidnapped by a dragon

born to be yours (Rated G) [Alex/Willie]

Summary: "Hello. It feels strange, resorting to notes like this, but I couldn’t think of any other way. I know you’re here, somewhere. At the ball. I’ve tried to find you for the past few nights. My parents always told me never to believe in looped days and soulmates, but I think this just proves that they were wrong.

My name is Willie. I don’t know how to find you, but sometimes I feel like I’m drawn to you. Like I can just sense you nearby. I don’t know if you’ll find this, but if you do, I’ll try to wait for you on the balcony.

Until we meet."

our best days are yet unknown (Rated T) [Alex/Reggie/Willie]

Summary: When Prince Alexander of Sacuria meets his fiance, Prince William of Coterra, he's astonished to discover that he recognizes his daemon. He recognizes it as one of the other shapes that his own daemon is able to take... as his soulmate. The only problem? Alex already has a soulmate: Reggie Peters, his childhood best friend. What should he do about finally meeting his second soulmate?

Panic and run away? Yeah, sure.

Little does he know he's about to have a bigger problem than that...

#troped: jatp #jatp fanfiction #round 4: final #round 4 submissions #round 4 voting #troped: voting

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years ago

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 58

Title: Scared.

Warnings: angst, profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty, @ocfairygodmother, @ocappreciation

Link on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/80937475

She finds him in the kitchen. Standing in front of the coffee bar in a pair of Under Armour sweats that sit impossibly low on his hips and his hair and the back of his shirt visibly dampened by sweat. She’d been stirred awake by the profound need to vomit; morning sickness hitting her hard and quick and finding her throwing off the comforter and rushing for the washroom. For forty minutes she’d stayed there; on her knees in front of the toilet with her cheek resting on the cold porcelain of the lid. It had taken longer than normal for the nausea to pass; accompanied by profuse sweating and the horrific dizziness. And she’d just begun to return to normal and had been in the process of splashing cold water on her face and brushing her teeth when she’d heard the front door click open. When he hadn’t come upstairs, she’d gone in search of him, shoving her feet into a pair of slippers and one of his hoodies.

“What are you doing up so early?” Tyler inquires, when she wraps her arms around him from behind. “ Not like you to be up before the kids.”

“Woke up to an empty bed. Thought I’d come down and check on you.” Her hands slid around to his stomach and slip up to his chest; lingering briefly on broad, hard muscle before retreating to his hips once more. She rests her forehead against his back; enjoying his familiar scent -mixed with the slight tinge of perspiration- that clings to the slightly dampened cotton of his t-shirt. “You worked out? Already?”

“And went for a run.”

“Must have been pretty damn early when you got up.”

“Still dark out. Tried to fall back asleep and when that wasn’t happening, decided to get up and start the day. I didn’t want to wake you up; all the tossing and turning I was doing.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Her hands move to his shoulders, gently kneading the muscles as she presses a kiss to the middle of his back. “ You’ve been getting up crazy early every day for a week now. Don’t you think maybe you’re going a little too hard? With the heavy lifting and the running and…”

“My body feels fine. Couple extra aches and pains and some stiffness, but nothing major. Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve felt worse, that’s for sure.”

“I just don’t want you pushing it, okay? Don’t go past what your body will let you do. I know sometimes you get really into it and you’re in a zone and it’s really hard to stop, but…”

“Didn’t we talk about this?” He turns to face her; leaning back against the countertop as the coffee brews and the kettle boils. “A week and a bit ago? About me not pushing the limits? I said I’d listen to my body. And I am.”

“I just worry. I know what you can be like; when you really start going hardcore with things. I mean, I get that you feel like you need to be bigger…”

“I WANT to be bigger. I don’t feel I need to be. We talked about this.”

“I know, and I’m just reminding you that your skills and your ability to keep us safe? They are not tied to how big you are. I just want you to realize that, okay? Before you totally start busting your ass because you think one has everything to do with the other. It doesn’t. At all. And I don’t want you forcing yourself to get bigger and hurting yourself and…”

“Esme…” He smooths her hair away from her cheeks; looping wayward strands behind her ears and then cradling her face in her palms. “...I’m fine. I’m just trying to maintain. That’s it. You know how hard that’s been; trying to keep weight and muscle on. Ever since...well, you know.”

“I do know. It’s been a challenge; getting back to where you were and staying that way. And I am totally onboard with that; you maintaining how you are right now. Because it’s the healthiest you’ve been. In years. I just don’t want you feeling that you need to be different. Bigger. I don’t want you thinking I want you to be that way.”

“I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that. I know you don’t give a shit; big, small, muscles, no muscles. I know none of that matters to you.”

“It’s not that it doesn’t matter. It does, in a way. Because I want you to be the healthiest you can be. But I love you ALL ways. Your size means nothing to me.”

A grin plays on his lips. “We’re talking over all size and not below the waist, yeah? Because I seem to recall you saying...many times...how much you enjoy the fact I have a huge…”

“You just HAD to go there. You just had to turn around and make this weird. You damn well know what I was talking about.”

“I make it weird when I start to get uncomfortable. You should know that by now. It’s only been twelve years and…” he consults his watch. “...one month…”

“And thirteen days,” she finishes. “What? I keep track too, you know. You’re not the only sappy one in this house. And why DO you get uncomfortable? Shouldn’t YOU know by now that you don’t have a reason to get like that? That I’m the last person you should be that way with.”

“I do know all that.” Pushing his hands through her hair, he allows the dark, silky stresses to slip between his fingers; palms skimming over her shoulders and down her upper arms before sliding around to the small of her back. “ Just sometimes I can’t help it. Guess it’s just years of being that way with other people. Sometimes the past comes back. No matter how far I feel I’ve gotten away from it. What’s the saying? Old habits die hard?”

“I was thinking more ‘you can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” she teases, then gives a yelp when he brings his palms down on her ass cheeks in a ringing slap. “You know, that shorter hair? How blond it looks? Totally hides all your gray. My old man doesn’t look so old anymore.”

“Fuck you, Esme.”

“I wish you would actually. The one morning I wake up really wanting it? You’re nowhere around. Sadly, I had to take matters into my own hands.”

“You didn’t.”

“I so did. I’m sorry, husband. I didn’t have a choice. You have no idea just how badly I wanted it. And when I woke up and you weren’t there…”

“You’re kidding me right now. You’re not being serious.”

“One hundred percent serious.” She gives a dramatic pout. “Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you wait until I got home?”

“I didn’t know how long you were going to be! Some things can’t wait. A pregnant woman’s hormones? They can’t wait. Sorry.”

“You’re bullshitting me right now.”

“There’s two things I for sure never lie about. Sex and orgasms. And seeing as you couldn’t give me the sex…”

“I could have given it to you when I got home. But you couldn’t wait, so…”

“I think you’re underestimating just how bad my hormones are right now. I know it’s been a while, but do you remember how bad things got? During my first trimester with Brookie and Takota?”

“Just with them? You were brutal with all of them. And with them and Millie, I couldn’t really do much about it because Dhaka kicked the ever loving shit out of me. Twice.”

“You held your own. You found ways. But let’s put it this way; combine all my pregnancies together and that’s pretty much how out of control my hormones are.”

A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. “Really? ‘Cause when you’re not pregnant, you’re pretty out there with how much you need and want. I’m older now. I don’t know if I can keep up with pregnant lady hormones.”

“Why do you think I have a whole drawer of sex toys? Take some of the strain and pressure off you.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

She remains stone faced for several seconds, then bursts into giggles when he scowls and attempts to step away. “I’m kidding! I’m totally kidding, babe. Totally. No!” She wraps both arms around his torso when he tries to side step her. “You’re not going anywhere! I was joking! I didn’t mean to insult you. Or your penis.”

“You hurt it’s feelings.”

“Want me to apologize to it?”

“Do you want to apologize to it?”

“Would it offend your penis even further if I said ‘not right because I’d probably puke all over it’?”

“He acknowledges that as a perfectly acceptable reason. But he also says once you’re feeling better…”

“Once it passes, I promise I’ll be very nice to him. But right now? Right now I need the penis owner to hug me.”

“I don’t know…” he chides, and wraps both arms around her much smaller, slighter frame. “...I guess I could do that.”

“You DO love me.” She perches herself on the top of his feet and curls her arms around his neck. “Although the way I’m feeling? It doesn’t feel like love.”

A palm moves to the back of her head, cradling it to his chest. “I take it you really didn’t wake up horny?”

“No. I didn’t. I woke up to puke. A lot.”

“I’m sorry, Me. That you’re feeling like shit. And for being the reason you ARE feeling that way.”

“You should be sorry. You and your penis and your talented sperm. And your stupid handsome face and your stupid blue eyes and your stupid voice. All the stupid things I can’t say no to.”

“Can’t? Or don’t want to?”

“Both,” she admits, and then giggles against him when his hand slips from the small of her back and travels down to gently squeeze an ass cheek. “I’ve never been able to say ‘no’ to you. It’s a blessing AND a curse, I swear.”

“Well, for what it’s worth…” he drops a kiss on the top of her head, then crooks a finger under her chin and tilts her face up towards him. “...I’m sorry you’re feeling like shit. And that it’s my fault you are.”

“Technically, it’s both our faults. I can’t hold you solely responsible. And I guess it’s a small price to pay; for bringing beautiful little humans into the world. If you ask me, we’re doing society a favour by sharing our genes. We make really cute kids.”

“I can’t argue with that. But is it really a surprise? We’re not exactly hideous.”

“Speak for yourself. You’re the looker in the family.”

He frowns. “I don’t know what the hell you’re seeing when you’re looking in the mirror, because when I look at you? Hideous does not come to me. You are definitely the hot one.”

“I think you underestimate just how good looking you actually are.”

“I think you overestimate how ugly you are. Wait….that did NOT sound right.”

“No, it didn’t,” Esme laughs. “But I know what you were trying to say. I think.”

“Let’s just agree that we make awesome looking kids and that it’s scientifically impossible for us to have ugly ones.”

“I can definitely agree to that.”

“And I am sorry.” Once more cradling her face in his hands, he presses a soft, brief to her lips, followed by one to her forehead. “That you’re feeling like crap. Any better now?”

“A little. I don’t feel like I should be taking up permanent residence in front of the toilet. And I meant what I said; about not caring about what you look like. And how your size has no correlation with the skills you have and the things you can do. You do know that, right?”

“I’m trying. To force myself to realize that.”

“Just be careful,” Esme pleads, as she runs her fingernails along his forearms as his hands linger against her cheeks. “Don’t over do. I don’t want you hurting yourself. I’m not nagging. I’m just worried.”

“Nothing to be worried about,” he assures her, and kisses her a final time. Much deeper and longer; fingers locking together at the base of her neck as she stands on her tiptoes and leans her body into his. “I’m fine,” he promises, and pecks the end of her nose. “If I feel like I’m pushing things, I’ll stop. I’ll even give you permission to give me a kick in the ass if you think I’m going too hard. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” she agrees, and presses a kiss to the underside of his chin before retreating to the island and sliding onto one of the barstools.

“I’ll make you some of that tea. Maybe that’ll help. Think you can handle eating something?”

“Maybe. What are you going to make me in my delicate condition?” Reaching for the Ipad that sits on the countertop, she slides it towards her; pressing the home button to bring the screen to life and immediately checking her email.

“I’m not a rookie. I know what you can and can’t handle.”

“We’re not talking about sex, Tyler. We’re talking about feeding a horrifically nauseous pregnant woman.”

Grinning, he places a steaming mug of tea down in front of her and then drops a kiss on the top of her head. “And you say my mind is always in the gutter.”

“We don’t have seven kids and one on the way for no reason. Save to say your mind isn’t the only dirty thing you possess. Anything interesting happen while you were on your run? Anything exciting?”

“If you’re asking if I saw Mark, no, I didn’t. And it’s probably a good thing because I definitely would have killed him.”

“Not that he doesn’t deserve it, but I’m glad you didn’t see him either. Last thing I need is you in jail for the rest of your natural born life. I don’t quite feel comfortable bringing my children into that kind of environment.”

“You could always come visit me alone,” he chides, and drops a mixture of crackers onto a plate. “You know, for conjugal visits.”

“How romantic. Getting railed with a guard right outside the door. What’s more of a violation of privacy? What ruins the mood more? That or knowing one of your seven children could come running in any second?”

“For the record…” he opens the fridge and pulls out a block of marble cheese and a bag of grapes. “...my mood is never ruined.”

“That’s because when you’re in the sex zone, everything else ceases to exist. You practically forget you even have kids.”

“My dick forgets I have kids. He’s running the show. I don’t get a say in it. My brain shuts down. I just go along for the ride. And boy, can give you an awesome ride.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushes the ipad away and reaches for her mug; clasping it in both hands and blowing a stream of steady air onto it hopes of cooling it down. She watches him as she sips cautiously at her drink; noticing the way the muscles in his arms twist and bugle with even the simplest of movements. The veins more pronounced and the sleeves of his tee -once fitting with room to spare- now tight around his biceps and through the chest and shoulders. Within the past two weeks alone he’s stepped up the frequency and intensity of his workouts; no rest days and the weights much heavier and two hours in the gym now partnered with an hour run along the river. And while she admires not only the view and his consistency and commitment, it also worries her; the fallacy that his skills and his ability to protect his family are directly tied into his size. Mark’s appearance has only fed into things; turning Tyler’s need to be bigger and stronger into near obsession.

“You know…” she carefully broaches the topic once again. “....you’re built exactly like you were when we first met. And that was a good look. A VERY good look.”

“I put on that five pounds, And more. Nine in total. Doesn’t sound like much, but…” he slides the plate of food in front of her. A mixture of various crackers and cheeses and a handful of grapes; the lone breakfast she could tolerate and stomach during the beginnings of all her pregnancies. Until medication became the only thing that helped with keeping any water and liquid down. “...it’ll take a lot to maintain it.”

“Just have to keep eating like you have been,” she says, and selects a piece of cheese from the plate, nibbling at it as he moves to the coffee bar and begins preparing a mug. “You’re up to what? Five meals a day? High calorie, high protein?”

“Probably go up to seven soon. Maybe add in a few smoothies throughout the day.”

“That’s a lot, don’t you think? That’s what you were during back in Colorado; after we got back together. And you went into that whole lumberjack stage.”

“For the record, you called it that. Not me. And you didn’t complain about it at the time. You said you liked that look; me being thicker.”

“I did. I DID like it. It was a change. But things are different now.. YOU’RE different. You’ve been through a lot since then. Your BODY’S been through a lot. Not to mention you’re older. That was a long time ago. Millie wasn’t even in school full time yet.”

“So because I’m older it means I have to just let myself go? Get fat and out of shape? A dad bod? You should know that’s not me; I’m not the type to just around on my ass and not do anything. I’ve always kept in shape. Even when I was a fucking mess and living in that shack.”

“I know it’s important to you; keeping in shape and being healthy. And I’d never stop you from doing it and I’m not suggesting you shouldn’t stay with it. . I just…” she drums her fingernails against the countertop. “...it sounds like you’re going into a bulk.”

“Maybe a little bit of one,” he says with a shrug, and slides into the stool across from her; coffee mug raised to his lips as he regards her. “Why? Is that a problem?”

“No. It’s not a problem. It’s just…” Sighing, she takes a bite out of one of the crackers. “...I am trying so hard here. To navigate this as carefully as possible. Because I don’t want you thinking I’m nagging or attacking or…”

“Just say what you want to say. What are you worried about? I’m not going to lose my shit. We can have a conversation without that happening, can’t we??

“Usually. Eight times out of ten.”

“Just say what you want to say, Me. I won’t get pissed. Just say it.”

“I’m worried about you. I’m worried that Mark showing up is somehow putting it into your head that you need to be different. That you need to be bigger and stronger and…”

“I do need to be stronger.”

“You’re already strong. More muscles does not equal strength. You know that better than anyone. You’re the gym lover, right? You know more about this stuff than I do. Muscle mass does not equal physical power. Look how strong you were in Dhaka. The first time around. You were built EXACTLY like you are now. Look at the things you were able to do. Especially in that apartment. You were there all by yourself and you had to take down all those guys on your own.”

“I was armed.”

“Until you weren’t. Then you had to rely on your physicality, right? You didn’t have a choice. You had to trust in your skills and the strength you had. And it worked out really well, don’t you think? You got rid of all of them and got Ovi out of there.”

“That was all skill, Esme. Not strength.”

“It was a mix of BOTH. You were strong, Tyler. You were insanely strong. I saw what you were capable of. And you were built exactly the same way you are now. So if you didn’t need to be bigger and bulkier then…”

“I was also younger than. Almost thirteen years younger.”

“And at the risk of pissing you off, you were also an alcoholic and addicted to Oxy-Contin. Wouldn’t those have hampered you? Made you even a little bit weaker? You’re clean and sober now. That’s all out of your system. So if you’re just as big now as you were then and you don’t have addiction issues now….”

“I’m almost fifty fucking years old. You really think I’d stand a chance in that apartment now?”

“Yeah. I do. I do think you’d stand a chance. Probably even a better chance now. Because your mind isn’t all fucked up on booze and pain meds.”

“No it’s just fucked up in other ways.”

“That has nothing to do with this. You had PTSD then, you just didn’t realize it. Or maybe you did and you were just ignoring it and self medicating yourself. Numbing everything. Tyler, you already had the problems you do now. They were already there, babe. It just took a lot of extra fucking trauma to bring them out. Do you really think you didn’t have PTSD already?”

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“You’ve always had it. You’ve had it since you were a kid. Just no one ever gave a shit to get you help for it. And then Austin got sick and…”

“We’re not talking about that. We’re not talking about him.”

“I’m just saying other things happened. And they kept piling up and piling up and it took that fucking prick Nathan to really bring everything out. Those things were always there. It just took something to bring them to the surface.”

“Yeah, it only took getting shot in the back and getting fucking tortured. Hell of a price to pay, don’t you think? To make everything come out? Some fucking psycho slicing my face open and sticking his fingers in the bullet hole in my back. Threatening to rape my wife and my little girl and kill my entire family.”

She frowns. “What are you talking about? You’ve never mentioned that before. Threatening to…”

“I remember, Esme. I remember what happened in that storage locker. Everything he did, everything he said. Everything he told me he’d do to you and the kids.”

“When did this happen? When did you start remembering all that?”

“Couple months ago.”

“A couple months?! And you’re just telling me now? Why didn’t you say something? Why would you keep that from me?”

“I didn’t want you to know. The details. I figured it was just better to keep it to myself. What good does it do? You knowing that stuff? Why should we both be fucked up because of him?”

“What? You think I wasn’t already fucked up? You think seeing you that way didn’t screw me up? I was the one that was there. In the hospital. I was the one that was there when you got out of surgery and I was the one that got you the help you needed and busted my ass to get you sent back home where you’d be more comfortable and you’d heal quicker. That was all me. You don’t think that didn’t fuck me up?”

“I’m sorry it did. I’m sorry…”

“No,” she holds her hand up in a plea for silence. “ I don’t want you to be sorry because you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. It wasn’t your fault Nathan was a total fucking sociopath. But I WAS there, Tyler. I was going through it with you. Who HAS been going through it with you. And you should have told me. That you were remembering. You owed me that.”

“I don’t owe you shit, Esme.”

“Really? So everything I did and everything I went through and all the times I fought for you meant absolutely nothing? Is that what you’re saying? That that meant fuck all to you?”

“I never said that. That’s NOT what I’m saying.”

“It’s been twelve years and in some ways you’ve changed, and in some ways you’re still the same. One day you’re a totally different person and the next you’re right back to who you were. When we first met. You go right back to being that guy that put all those walls up to keep everyone out. It’s like two steps forward and a whole bunch of steps back. Why? Why do you do this? Why do you go back to being HIM?”

“Because that’s who I am. That’s who I’ve always been. You’ve just been so caught up trying to make me something I wasn’t to make yourself feel better. Had to change me right? So you could live with yourself for making the decisions you did when it came to me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. I didn’t change you. You wanted to change. I didn’t force you. I didn’t demand that you change for me. I didn’t hold a gun to your head and make you become a family man. I didn’t…”

“You were pregnant with my kid. What did you want me to do? Let you walk away? Take my kid with you? Did you really think I’d let you do that?”’

“Holy fuck,” she scoffs, and pushes the mug away with enough force for tea to splash over the rim. “So this is what it took, huh? Almost thirteen years for you to finally tell the fucking truth. I asked you. After Dhaka. I asked you if it was what you wanted. If I was what you wanted. And you were so fucking convincing. I bought it. When you said it was. I actually fell for it. And in the end it WAS all just a bunch of bullshit.”

“No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t bullshit. I wanted you to stay. I wanted a life with you.”

“Because I was pregnant. Because you felt it was the right thing to do. Because you were trapped.”

“I wasn’t trapped. And it wasn’t because you were pregnant. I wanted you to stay BEFORE that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before? Why did you wait? Until I told you about Millie. Until I said I’d leave and never bother you again? Why didn’t you before that if I was what you wanted?”

“Because I almost fucking died and I was trying to heal and I was fucked up. I wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind. And maybe I was scared. Because I was feeling all the things for you. Because I’d just met you and suddenly I’m feeling shit that I’ve never felt for anyone in my entire fucking life. I went from wanting to kill myself to having something...someone...to live for. I’m sorry if I was a little fucking overwhelmed.”

“You? You were overwhelmed? I put my ass on the line on that bridge and stuck my fingers in your fucking neck! I stayed there! I stuck around and did everything I could to keep you alive! You were overwhelmed?”

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have just got your ass on the helicopter and left. Like everyone else did.”

“Yeah…” she slides off the stool, and angrily shoves it against the island. “...maybe I should have. Considering you just spent the last twelve years building a life based on a FUCKING LIE!”

“That’s not what I did. That’s not true. That’s not…” he captures her by the wrist when she attempts to stomp away, fingers digging into the sensitive flesh. “...where are you going?”

“I need to be away from you. I can’t be here. In this room. With you.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t walk away. If you walk away...”

“Let go of me,” she orders, and struggles in vain to yank her hand out of his grasp. “Let go. Now.”

“I’m not letting you walk away. Not until you listen to me. Not until you…”

“I’m done listening to you. You’ve said enough, don’t you think? What do you want to do? Hurt me some more? I don’t think that’s even possible. Because what you just did….what you just said...what you just admitted to…”

“I never lied to you. Ever. Not about us. Not about you.”

“You just did! You just told me that the only reason you even had me stick around was because I was pregnant. Because you felt obligated to keep me around. Because you felt some sense of duty.”

“I never said that. That is NOT what I said.”

“I asked you!” She manages to yank her hand free, and instead of fleeing the room decides to confront him. Standing between his splayed thighs and jamming her finger into his chest as tears coarse down her face. “I asked you so many times in the past twelve years! I asked you to tell me the truth; I asked you to tell me if you only wanted me to stay because I was having Millie. How many times have I asked you that? Tell me.”

“A lot.”

“Every time you said ‘no’. You said that you asked me because you loved me and you wanted a life with me. You wanted us to be together and have a family.”

“And that’s exactly why! That’s exactly why I asked you to stay.”

“It was a fucking lie, Tyler! You said I wanted to hear. What you knew would keep me there. You never meant a fucking word of it. It was all a lie.”

“No. It wasn’t. None of that was a lie. It’s the truth. I never lied to you, Esme. Not about that. NEVER about that.”

“You just told me! You just said ‘you were pregnant with my kid, what did you want me to do?’. Those words just came out of your mouth!”

“But I didn’t mean them. I just lashed out. All I heard was you say that I haven’t changed and I was still the same and I lost it. I snapped. And unfortunately that’s what came out. But it wasn’t the truth. Everything I said to you back then….about wanting to be with you and wanting a life with you and wanting a family...THAT was the truth.”

“Twelve years. Twelve years and seven kids. And it was all built on a fucking lie.”

“No. It wasn’t. None of it was a lie. You? Us? None of that is a lie. Stop…” He once more grabs her in an attempt to keep her from leaving; fingers curling around her bicep. “...I’m not letting you walk away. Just stop.”

“Leave me alone,” she pleads. “Please. Just leave me alone. Just let me go. You need to let me go, Tyler.”

“I can’t. I can’t do that.”

“You have to. You have to let me go..”

“Esme….”

“Please,” she begs, and tries to peel his fingers away from her arm. “Please just let me go.”

He finally relents; releasing his hold on her and holding his hands up in a show of surrender. Struggling to hold back a flood of tears of his own as he watches her flee the room; heart breaking just a little bit more with every step that takes her further away from him.

******

Tyler gives her a chance to cool down. Nursing his coffee while counting down the minutes on the digital clock on the stove; time passing agonizingly slow as he fights the urge to rush upstairs and pull her into his arms and kiss her until they’re both breathless. Then drop to his knees and grovel for forgiveness. He calls Desi and asks him to come and take the kids for a couple of hours; giving very little details but letting the uncharastically frantic tone of his voice do all the talking for him. And when he finally lets himself into the master, he finds her standing at the side of their unmade bed; an open suitcase and a pile of messy clothes sitting in the midst of the rumbled and tangled sheets.

He closes the door behind him, then cautiously approaches. Resisting the urge to stand behind her and place his hands on her shoulders and instead retreated to the dresser; leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest and fear quickly spreading through his entire body. “What are you doing?”

Esme doesn’t look up from the task at hand. “Packing.”

“I thought you were going to leave that stuff until the night before we leave. We’ve still got four more days.”

“You’ve still got four more days. I’m leaving. Today.”

His top teeth dig painfully into his bottom lip; biting back a ‘like fuck you are’ and instead offering, “Where are you going?”

“Home. There’s seats on a flight that leaves in four hours. I’ll call Andy on the way to JFK; see if he can pick me up at the airport.”

“Andy left Australia about three hours ago. He’s flying in for the wedding, remember? Your son’s wedding.”

“Then I’ll take a cab. Or I’ll call Estelle. I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about it.”

His palms rub at his forearms, attempting to fend off the chill of dread that travels through him. “It’s kind of hard not to. You’re my wife. You’re pregnant with my kid.”

“Just let me worry about that, okay? It’s kinda my body. Not yours.”

“What the fuck is that supposed mean?”

“It means it’s my body. I’m the one carrying this baby. Not you. I’ll take care of it.”

“Take care of it as in make sure it’s okay or take care of it as in…”

She angrily tosses a pair of jeans into the suitcase. “I would NEVER do that to you. You think that little of me? That I would do something like that?”

“No. Of course not. I just…”

“Where’s the kids?”

“Desi came and got them. Took them out for breakfast.”

“How’d you convince him to do that?”

“I told him that some shit was going down and I needed to take care of it. That I needed to bust my ass and make things right.”

“I’m surprised you were so honest. What happened? Use up all your bullshit over the past twelve years? Had nothing left to give? Must have been tiring; keeping the lie up all this time.”

“Esme, stop. I never lied to you. Not about you. Not about us. Not about our life. I’ve never lied about any of that.”

“Our whole marriage has been a lie! Every year, every month, every week, every day. Even every fucking hour.”

“You can’t tell me you actually believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore. It’s kind of hard to trust anything you hear after you’ve found out your entire life...or a huge part of it...has been nothing but bullshit..”

“None of it was bullshit. I didn’t mean what I said. Downstairs. I didn’t mean….”

She finally turns to face him; hands clutching a t-shirt. “Was any of it true? Any of the last twelve years?”

“It was all true. Every day. All of it. It was all true, Me.”

Giving a derisive snort, she tosses the garment into the suitcase. “Don’t call me that. Things were good when you started calling me that. Things were great, actually. And I loved it; that you had this little nickname for me. Don’t ruin it, okay? At least give me one thing to hold onto.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You got seven beautiful children out of your lie, Tyler. At least something good came out of it.”

“Okay, you know what…” He finally approaches the bed, snatching the sweater out of her hands and dropping it into the suitcase; picking the latter up and angrily tossing it into the corner of the room. He’s desperate. Frantic. Needing to make that last ditch attempt to keep everything together. He won’t survive if things fall apart; at least not mentally. Losing her means he loses his entire world; the person who taught him what love TRULY is. It’s patience and it’s acceptance and it’s sacrifice and it’s sometimes painful as hell. And it tears him up inside; the thought of his world without his entire world in it. “...you’re going to listen to me. Whether you want to or not. Because I need you to hear what I’m saying. Esme…” he lays his hands on her shoulders, squeezing as hard as her body will allow him to. “Look at me. Please look at me.”

She shakes her head; chin remaining dropped to her chest.

“Please,” he begs, as his hands move to her cheeks; palms cradling her face and fingers pressing into the delicate skin as he tilts her head up towards him. “Just look at me. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He’s never heard her voice like that before; tiny and broken and lost. The hurt that he’s dealt her has struck extremely deep; the devastation and the heartbreak profound and reaching right into her very soul. Not even in the worst of times had he seen her like this; when she’d kicked him out and they’d spent six months walking on pins and needles around each other while desperately wanting to fix things and not knowing where - or how- to begin. She’s cried many times in front of him; tears of joy and anger and frustration and fear and horrendous grief. And he’s always been able to comfort her and ease some of the pain; his arms able to give her the solace and the escape that she both craved and needed. But it’s far beyond that; no lingering embrace or stroking of hair or whisperings of love will do the trick this time. It’s him that’s caused this; the shimmer of tears in her eyes and the trembling of her body and the look of pure devastation and loss that registers on her face.

“I don’t know either,” he admits. “And I don’t even know what to say. I just know I need you to listen to me. To whatever I DO say. Can you do that? I need you to do that. Please, Esme. Just listen, okay?”

She offers a feeble nod.

“I love you. I have always loved you.”

“No. Don’t you say that. Don’t make it worse. Don’t screw things up even more by keeping up the lie. If there was ever a time for you to be honest with me…”

“I AM being honest with you. I have never...EVER...lied about this. About you. About us. About our life.”

“I asked you, Tyler. More than once. Even after you brought up getting married. I asked you if it was because you actually did want me, or if you felt obligated to be with me. Because of Millie. I ASKED you.”

“And I told you the truth. I didn’t want to get married because of the baby. If there’d never been a baby...had you not gotten pregnant...I STILL would have wanted to be with you. I wanted to get married because I loved you. In a way I’d never loved anyone. That I didn’t even think was possible.”

“So you’re saying Millie had nothing to do with it? The fact I was having your daughter?"

“I mean, yeah, she did. In a way. I wanted us to be a family. I wanted it to be you and me and our kid. Because I knew we could make something of it. Don’t you think it was some kind of sign? If Dhaka couldn’t kill us, maybe things were meant to work out.”

“So if I hadn’t been pregnant…”

“I would have still wanted to marry you. I didn’t ask you to come to Australia because of Millie. I asked you because I didn’t want to lose you. I’d just found you. I wasn’t going to just let you walk away like nothing ever happened.”

“I gave up everything for you,” she snarls. “My entire life as I knew it. I gave it all up. And for what? For you to lie to me for twelve years? To base our entire life together on bullshit?”

“That’s not what I did. I didn’t lie to you. Our life hasn’t been bullshit. What I said downstairs? I didn’t mean it. THAT was bullshit.”

“Then why did you say it? If you didn’t mean it…”

“Because I lashed out. Like I’ve always done. Because all I heard was how I’m still the same person. I’m still the guy I was when we first met. The enormous alcoholic, drug addicted fuck up.”

“That’s not what I meant. I don’t think you’re that person at all. You haven’t been him in a long time. I didn’t mean…”

“You think what I said hurt you? How do you think that made me feel? I have busted my ass to give you a life. A GOOD life. I changed everything about myself. For you. And yeah, I needed to change; I needed to get my shit together and clean myself up. For once and for all. No more slip ups, no more going back to bad habits, no more running. And that’s what I’ve been doing for the past five years! I have done whatever I could to be the man you needed. That you DESERVE.”

“You are that man. I didn’t mean to say you’re not. That’s not what I meant; that you’re the same guy you were.”

“But that’s what I heard. You weren’t the only to give things up, Esme. You’re not the only one who had to adjust to a whole new life. I know the way I was living was pretty shit, but that’s all I knew. The job, the booze, the pills, hating myself, wallowing in my own fucking self pity. Do you think it was easy for me to just stop being that way? To just give up everything I knew for something else? Something totally different?”

“No. I know it wasn’t easy. I was there. With you. We went through all of it together. We helped each other adjust. I mean, we started living together and we barely knew one another. We were having a baby yet we were still learning about each other and trying to make a life together.”

“And that was pretty fucking scary wasn’t it. Jumping into all that and not even really knowing one another.”

She nods in agreement.

“ Everything said it shouldn’t work. That it WOULDN’T work. We were both pretty messed up. Some ways it was the same, some it was different. All the cards were stacked against us. All of them. And we somehow made it...US...work.”

“We had to put the effort in,” she reasons.

“And it was hard, wasn’t it. Nothing was easy about it. We pissed each other off, we disagreed on a lot of things, we had to get used to living with another person. It was damn hard. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She finally reaches out to touch him; running her fingertips along the neckline of his t-shirt; intently focused on a single loose thread in an effort to keep her emotions in check. And he immediately feels the change in the room; the pronounced shift from having to beg and plead to save his life to having to do damage control. The tension in her body releasing; shoulders relaxed and the tears in her eyes not as prominent and the way she finds it easier to look at him.

“Do you really think if I was lying that I would have put that much work into things? That I would have given everything up for you? For US? Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have run? Like I’d run from everything else before?”

“I never thought of it that way,” she admits.

“You came into my life and turned my whole world upside down. Second I saw you on my porch, I knew that was it. That things were going to change and that there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do to stop it from happening. And you know what? I didn’t want to. Stop it. And that alone? That should have been enough to send me running.”

“Why didn’t it? Why didn’t you run?”

“I didn’t want to.”

“It would have been so easy. All you would have had to do was tell Nik you’d take the job and then not even show up. Although, I guess that would have made no sense; you would have lost out on a pretty big pay day.”

“Honestly, the money wasn’t even the first thing on my mind. It was there, but it wasn’t the most important thing. Which is weird, considering that’s all that job ever really meant to me. The pay out.”

“So why did you show up? If the money wasn’t the most important thing…”

“I wanted to see you again. I guess I wasn’t that annoyed about it after all; Nik bringing someone there.”

She manages a small smile.

“You were different. You didn’t give a shit about where I lived or what it looked like. You didn’t seem to care about the booze all over the place and the pain meds right out in the open. You didn’t seem to notice I was huge fucking mess.”

“You weren’t a mess. You were hurt. You were holding onto a lot of things. A lot of pain. I could see it; in your eyes. I’ve always said that; you say more with your eyes than you do with your mouth. I knew it when you looked at me; when we were talking after Nik went outside. I knew that people didn’t really know you. That they didn’t really ‘see’ you. That they never took the chance or the time to.”

“You did. You took the chance.”

“I guess I realized you were different too. From everyone that I’d met while on the job. You weren’t like the rest of them. You weren’t loud and obnoxious and bragging about your kills the second I met you. I couldn’t handle it; guys proud of all the lives they’ve taken and not shy about sharing the gruesome details. They GLOATED about that stuff. And the worst part? They thought I’d be impressed by it. That I’d somehow find it attractive and throw myself at their feet.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t bring out my kill sheet right after I met you,” he chides.

“You’ve never been like that. You’ve never taken pride in what you’ve had to do. You’ve never killed because you wanted to. You killed because you had to. I guess I got that impression right away; you were quiet and soft spoken and like I said, your eyes. They gave a lot away. About who you really were.”

“And that didn’t scare you?”

“There was nothing to be scared of. You may have had your demons, but you were pretty good at keeping them contained. I knew they weren’t something I had to be worried about. You weren’t going to hurt me. You didn’t have it in you.”

“And you could tell all that just by my eyes?”

She shrugs. “You have very expressive eyes. Why did you show up, Tyler? In Fitzroy Crossing. If it wasn’t really the money…”

“Like I said, I wanted to see you again. Girls like you just show up on my doorstep. Figured that was a sign; someone like you just walking into my place like you owned it. And when you didn’t pay attention to the disaster it or I was…”

“You weren’t a disaster. If you were, I never would have gone along with Nik’s plan. I would have ran long before you did, believe me. Had it been anyone else? Any other merc? I wouldn’t have taken that job. You were different, Tyler. In a lot of ways. And especially didn’t hurt that you looked like you did.”

“You would have been really disappointed if Gaspar had still been in the game. Nik called him first.”

“I for sure would have ran. That...HIM...that would have been a ‘no’ from me. I guess I’m lucky. That you even came home that day.”

“I actually briefly considered killing myself. About half an hour before. Something told me not to.”

“I’m glad. That it did. Because if it hadn't…” she looks away, tears once again brimming in her eyes. “...we wouldn’t have any of this. This life, Our kids. Us. We wouldn’t even have existed. And I don’t know about you, but I’m glad we do.”

Smiling, he loops strands of hair behind her ear. “So am I.”

She turns her tear filled eyes back towards him. “I’m sorry, Tyler. I never meant to hurt you. When I said what I did, about you going back to who you were, I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I didn’t mean to say you WERE him. I just mean that you always go back to certain things. Like hiding stuff from me. Because you think you should protect me from it.”

“I should have told you. About Nathan. Remembering the things that happened. I don’t know why I do; revert back to keeping things from you. I guess I am trying to protect you. I guess I figured one of us was already fucked up because of what happened, why should the other one be?”

“But it’s not protecting me. When you hide stuff. It does this. It causes problems. Way more problems than what would exist if you just told me. After everything I’ve been through in the past twelve years, there’s pretty much nothing I CAN’T handle. And I was there too. Five years ago. The aftermath of it. I was the one there with you. And believe me, I’m just as fucked up as you are. Seeing you like that? Seeing you in Dhaka seven years BEFORE that? You have no idea what it’s done to me. The things that are STILL in my head. I can’t get them out of there. And I need them gone. I need them out.”

Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into his embrace. An arm wrapped tightly around her waist and her fingers tangled in her hair as she buries her face in his chest. “I’m sorry, Me. I am so fucking sorry. That you had to see what you did. That you had to do those things.”

“It’s not your fault,” she sobs. “It’s never been your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. You couldn’t have stopped what happened. I chose to stay. I couldn’t leave you there, Tyler. I couldn’t. I wasn’t leaving you on that bridge.

He attempts to gently shush her; palm moving to the middle of her back to rub in slow, soothing circles. “It’s okay. Everything’s alright now. YOU’RE alright.”

She turns her face up towards him, tears spilling down her cheeks as her entire body violently trembles. Voice terrified and frantic. “I’m not alright. At all. I am so far alright. And I need to be. I need to be alright.”

“You will be,” he assures her, and uses gentle fingertips to clear away the droplets glistening on her skin. “I’ll make sure of it. You’ll be okay. Right now, I need you to calm down. I need you to calm down and just breathe.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes you can. And you need to. For that baby. You need to settle down and breathe and…”

“I need help. I need help, Tyler. I need to get rid of this. This Dhaka stuff. In my head. I want it gone. You need to help me. Please help me.”

“I will. You know I will. As soon as we get home, I’ll call Doctor Klein and I’ll get you to see him, okay?”

She nods.

“It’s going to be okay. YOU’RE going to be okay.”

“I can’t breathe. I can’t…”

“You need to calm down. You’re thisclose to a panic attack and you need to settle down. Just breathe.”

“I CAN’T! I can’t breathe. It hurts...my chest…”

Muttering a string of profanities, he forces her to sit on the edge of the bed and then clasps her face in his hands. “Listen to me, you’re having a panic attack. I need to try and breathe, baby. Just breathe. I’m going to get you some meds, okay? You’ll be alright.”

“It really hurts...I can’t...take a breath.”

“I’ll take care of you.” He presses a kiss to her sweat slicked brow. “I’ll be right back. Just close your eyes and try to breathe. Can you do that?”

She nods.

Hurrying into the ensuite bath, he tosses open the medicine cabinet and begins violently rummaging through the contents. Various items tumbling off shelves and landing with a clatter in the sink; his own hands trembling and his chest feeling tight and uncomfortable. The blame and the guilt already screaming in his ears; silently berating himself for being the cause of not only her pain and her anger, but kick starting her ‘fight or flight’ response. Had he never said the things he had...had he never lashed out and even insinuated that he’d kept her around solely because she’d been pregnant with Millie...if he’d only…

He clutches the edge of the sink with enough force to crack his knuckles and turn his fingers white. And he drops his chin to his chest and briefly closes his eyes; forcing himself to push all of his own fears and worries and guilt and regret out of his mind. Needing to hold it together for her; be the shoulder to cry and the steadfast support and ‘the rock’ that she needs him to be. And when the sobbing and the gasping for air in the next room becomes even louder and incessant, he locates the bottle of anti-anxiety meds and asthma inhaler -prescribed to her for such events- and rushes back into the bedroom.

“It’s alright now,” he attempts to comfort her, and drops to a knee in front of her and shakes the inhaler before popping the cap off. “Here….take this...take it…”

Her hand covers his as he holds the device to her lips and she inhales shakily when he administers the dose.

“You need to take some meds, okay?” His hands tremble as he fights to open the bottle. “Just a couple. They’ll help. They work quick.”

“Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, you're having an anxiety attack. You’ll be okay. Just…”

“No!” she interjects, and when she grabs his arm it’s with enough force that her nails cut into his flesh. “Something’s wrong. With the baby.”

The invisible vice tightens around his lungs. “What?”

“Something’s wrong, Tyler.” Her face contorts with pain, her other hand clutching at her stomach. “Something’s really wrong. With the baby.”

“Okay we’ll get you to the hospital and we’ll get you checked out. We’ll get you looked and the baby looked at…”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish the sentence; both of her palms now covering her stomach as she cries out in agony.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction #Tyler Rake fan fic #Extraction fan fic #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Chris Hemsworth Extraction #Tyler and Esme series

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plainbrunettelbl · 5 years ago

Text

ABO (A) Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Pharmacy Run (Zombie AU)

Word count: 1781

Warnings: Gore. Mentions blood.

Title: ABO (A) Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Pharmacy Run (Zombie AU)

Summary: You got on a pharmacy run and things turn south.

(Gif not mine credit to owner)

🦈-It had been three months since things went to hell.

🦈-You had been one of the lucky Omegas that took suppressants to block their heats and scent. You had just filled your prescription that week so you had a whole three months covered.

🦈-You had hidden in an abandoned gas station. It was one meant for truckers so you had access to running showers which you were reluctant to enjoy because the water pounded heavily against the tiles.

🦈-You only settled there because they had metal shutters that would come down. It was secure and you felt safe there. As safe as one could get in a zombie apocalypse.

🦈-You stayed low and didn’t draw any attention to yourself. The gas station was located on a high way leading out of the city so you didn’t hear many survivors passing through.

🦈-The yells and screams you did hear kept you awake at night. You knew being an Omega was dangerous in regular society but now that Omegas were few and far between Alphas had lost any sense of control.

🦈-You would rather die being torn apart by zombies than have a feral Alpha catch you.

🦈-You only had one week of suppressants left before you ran out. You knew both the dead and alive would come for you if you didn’t find more soon. That was why you were on the roof of an old supermarket.

🦈-You wanted to scope out the place before you went in.

🦈-You stayed up there for a while and didn’t hear the telltale signs of the dead occupying it. You didn’t hear the knocking over of cans or the crunch of glass they unsteadily walked on.

🦈-The sun was still up high so you thought it was time to finally enter the decrepit supermarket. You would like to get back to your home before the sun started dipping. You would have liked to go through the back since pharmacies were always located in the back but the door was chained up.

🦈-So you looked down the empty street for both the dead and living before sneaking in the entrance. You noticed the shelves were almost bare. A few cans of still lingered but you didn’t dwell on them.

🦈-You were here for the only thing you really needed to survive. A full belly was nice but you would rather have you scent masked then snag a few cans. You walked through the aisles jumping at every creak of the building.

🦈-You arrived at the pharmacy, it was just as trashed as the rest of the building. Paper bags that were once white now soiled in dirt and blood scattered the floor. You were careful to avoid them, not wanting to make any unnecessary sounds.

🦈-The drawers had straightforward labels. Antibiotics, allergy medicine, fever medication, and so on. You paused when you came across suppressants. You shakily opened it, hoping with all your heart that it wasn’t empty.

🦈-Your eyes sparkled when your eyes gazed at a decent pile of monthly packs. At least a year worth. Your Omega jumped in joy. Although she was upset that pups weren’t on the list anytime soon she enjoyed living just as much.

🦈-You stuffed all of the suppressants in your backpack before throwing in anything else you thought might have been useful.

🦈-You were too focused on the abundance of medicine that you didn’t notice unsteady footsteps creeping your way. It was only when you heard a moan so close nearby did you look up, to zombies had followed you to the back.

🦈-You were quick to hide behind the shelves, they were sniffing the air. You might not have been out much but you noticed a pattern. If you were more than a fifteen feet in away from them they would pick up your Omega scent even with the suppressants.

🦈-Farther away they still showed interest but didn’t pursue you as hard.

🦈-These ones must have been walking by and smelled you straight away. You were glad it was only two of them and not a whole hoard. The cities were known for their big crowds.

🦈-You grabbed an empty medkit and threw it on the other side of the room. They were quick to snap their head in that direction and pursue the noise. You slowly maneuvered around the paper bags again before silently dashing away.

🦈-They much have just came from a fresh kill. The floors were slick with blood from their footsteps. You didn’t notice until your slipped and hit your head on one of the shelves, cans crashed all around you.

🦈-You were a little disoriented, ringing in your ears made you unsteady and the pain in your head made you dizzy. Without your permission, your Omega sent out a chirp.

🦈-Any Alpha within a mile would have heard. You didn’t know if the zombies were sensitive to them too. They certainly were obsessive over your smell. You tried to get back up to run out but you crumpled over right away.

🦈-It was pointless to hold in your whimpers at that point. You got your suppressants but they cost your life. You pictured yourself bleeding out on the dirty floor as you felt the dead pair steadily walking your way for their next meal.

🦈-You felt another presence from the opposite side of the aisle. You thought it was just another zombie ready to sink their teeth into you but a loud growl rumbled through them.

🦈-It wasn’t like the growls you heard from the dead on a regular basis. No, it was a familiar one from the old world. One that said to back off from someone’s mate. You lifted your eyes and caught a blurry red-haired figure.

🦈-He carried a bat with him and hung it over his bulky shoulder. You could make out the faint outlines of nails pounded into it. You didn’t doubt that it was deadly in this strong Alphas hands.

🦈-He ran down the aisle and jumped over your slumped figure. His bat came down on the nearest zombie head. He was quick to bring his bat down on the other, with a heaving chest and blood dripping down his bat he turned your way.

🦈-Your vision had cleared up a bit the feral scowl on his face made you whimper. He was one of them, an Alpha with only one thing on his mind. In an instant, his face softened and he took a step back. He didn’t drop the bat but he lifted his hands up to show he wasn’t to be feared.

🦈-“Are you okay? Did I get here in time, Omega?” His eyes scanned your body, besides the trickle of blood on your head you seemed fine.

🦈-His Alpha calmed at the thought. He was just going on a food run when he heard a chirp. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him but the hairs on his neck were evidence enough.

🦈-“I’m fine. They didn’t get to me.” You mumbled, holding your backpack strap tighter.

🦈-“I’m glad.” He breathed, he didn’t let his guard down yet. His hero trained ears picked up on heavy footsteps coming from the entrance no doubt a big group was making their way over.

🦈-“We have to go.” He urged, eyes trying to look over the shelves to see how many to expect. He didn’t like what he was seeing.

🦈-You nodded and tried to stand up, your legs weren't cooperating, you wobbled as you stood. Kirishima didn’t think anything of it as he leaned down and tossed you over his wide shoulder.

🦈-You wanted to protest but knew this wasn’t the right time. You lifted your head to cover your backs. The dead were just entering the aisle. Kirishima wasted no time dashing into the back where you came from.

🦈-He was heading towards the back door.

🦈-“The door is chained shut. There is no way we are getting out that way.” You rushed, looking over at the metal door.

🦈-“Watch me.” He growled, running towards the door at neck-breaking speed.

🦈-A cry got stuck in your throat, this was gonna hurt.

🦈-Only it didn’t, the Alpha hardened his fist and punched the door straight off, chains went crashing to the ground in a loud clang. Your Omega took this time to purr at the strong Alpha.

🦈-Not the time Omega.

🦈-Kirishima warmed at the sound but he pushed forward. He needed to get you to safety. He spotted a metal fire escape and took the chance. He used his leg power to launch himself up and grab at one of the bars.

🦈-You had already taken to hugging him like a koala and wrapped your legs around his thick waist. Your arms looped around his neck. He climbed up the ladder no problem and got you to the roof safely.

🦈-The building seemed to be an apartment complex so he didn’t want to crawl through the windows and meeting the old tenants. He stood on the roof and waited for you to detach yourself from him.

🦈-You were reluctant to leave his safe embrace but you slowly climbed down from him.

🦈-“Thank you, Alpha.” You sent him a small smile, noticing the way he stood up straighter when you called his title.

🦈-“It’s no problem. I am glad you are safe. I’m Kirishima.” He smiled, showcasing his sharp teeth before offering a rough hand for you to shake.

🦈-Your small one felt even smaller in his huge hand.

🦈-“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Kirishima.” You replied, shuffling on your feet. You didn’t know what to do now. It seems you would be stuck on the roof for a while if the groans below had anything to say about it.

🦈-“Do you like canned chili? I just picked up a load of them.” He tore off his backpack and unzipped it. His Alpha was all too eager to provide for the Omega. He hadn’t seen one in so long and this one was so beautiful and smelled like a summer day by the ocean.

🦈-“I could eat, a near death experience really eats away the calories.” You joked, taking the offered can.

🦈-“I am feeling pretty hungry myself.” He grinned, cracking open his own can before pulling out two plastic spoons.

🦈-So you sat on the roof of an abandoned apartment complex eating spoonfuls of cold chili. The food might have been cold but the atmosphere was warm and comforting.

🦈-You felt safe with this Alpha and you didn’t think you would be leaving his side anytime soon.

Again with the zombie AU. I hope you liked it. I love this shark boy.❤️🦈

Please reblog my work it really motivates me to write more. Leave a note as well if you want to see more from me.

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elen-aranel · 4 years ago

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Down from Uptown

The Engineer’s Adventures

1-1 • 1-2 • 2 • 3 • 4

For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday. Pairing: Captain Christopher Pike x F!Reader (no Y/N) Warnings: Canon-typical violence; off-screen deaths of (young) adults WC: 6k Tag list: this isn’t the story I said I’d tag you for but it is Captain Pike X Reader @jusvibbbin ? does this count?? I can untag you! A/N: Me: it’s a one-shot Me: oh wait I can’t leave it there here’s a sequel @autumnleaves1991-blog: here’s another amazing Writer Wednesday prompt Me: I guess it’s a series of one shots now?? Also this is super long for me having written it in one day. Not sure where all these words came from. Other writers write feelings; come to me for a healthy dose of plot. tl;dr: Elen saw the picture and thought, what if Captain Pike, but driving a speeder?

It is all his fault.

You shouldn’t even have been here in the first place: you are an engineer. Not a diplomat. Sure you had read the briefing the comms team had put together, but maybe if you’d been better at reading alien body language, they wouldn’t have got the jump on you?

Now you’re sitting in what feels like a cellar, no windows, one flickering light panel above you, leaning against the wall feeling sorry for yourself.

Still. You will admit – having checked Chris over and determined, to the best of your knowledge from your limited field medic training, that he was probably fine – that you would rather be here with him than on the Enterprise worrying, powerless.

While you wait for him to wake you take an inventory of what you have, and think back to how you had gotten into this predicament.

“Are you sure, Chris?” He likes when you call him that, even if you’re on duty, so long as you’re alone. “It’s a first contact, and not even with a society that needs help from us. There’s got to be someone better than me?”

“Of course I’m sure. The Eloma value couple bonds; it would be strange not to take you. Unless,” —he peers up at you under his eyelashes, mouth quirking slightly,—”you don’t think you’re up to it? I could bring—”

“No, I’m up to it all right.” You bristle at the obvious manipulation attempt. You may not be as confident over away missions as the crew who go on them regularly, and your minor meltdown in Earth’s past still has you nervous about how you may react if things go wrong off the ship, but the only way to overcome worries like that is to confront them. You know you can do this. “Louvier’s going to be mad, that’s all. I promised him I’d oversee the shuttle upgrades.”

“You let me handle Louvier,” he says with a small smile.

“Well if I end up on gamma for the next two weeks and you don’t see me at all, you only have yourself to blame,” you say with a shrug.

“Being the captain does have its perks, you know. I can change the duty rosters if I wish.” He grins back, blue eyes sparkling and dimples on display, knowing he’s won this one.

The first impression you get of Eloma is calm beauty. You beam down to a roof garden high on a sky-scraper, with Captain Pike at your side, and Lieutenant Spock and Ensign James from security.

The garden is gorgeous. You meet your hosts on a paved area, but there are trees and flowerbeds all around, a few little paths winding between them, and you can see three ornate stone fountains behind your hosts, the largest of which shoots a plume of water into the air as you watch. You think you’d like to sit on one of the benches with a book – you would enjoy being able to hear the sounds of traffic wafting up from below (something between hover cars and shuttles by the sound of the engines), the horns beeping, and the occasional distant peal of laughter – it would be nice to feel part of all that but also separate from it.

You don’t have too long to dwell on your surroundings, however, because the captain is stepping forward to greet your hosts.

There are two native humanoid species who collectively make up the Eloma: the Mraden who are tall, grey haired with skin shades varying from sky through to ultramarine blue, faces humanlike apart from ridges beneath each eye; and the smaller, black haired, ice-white skinned Ginera who could almost pass for human if their skin was warmer in colour and their dark eyes didn’t flash silver at certain angles. A pair of Mraden and a pair of Ginera step forward to meet you, all wearing long white robes. You wonder if this is normal dress or whether it’s ceremonial, and you resist the temptation to smooth down your red jacket. The Mraden guards standing at attention behind your hosts are dressed more like you, though; a more practical black style.

“Greetings Captain, honoured partner,”—the Mraden lady looks at you as she says this, and you nod slightly in acknowledgement—”I am Nera, first lady of Eloma. May I welcome you on behalf of the first and second couples.” She gestures to her partner first, then to the Ginera couple, who bow. “We are delighted to open contact with the esteemed united Federation of planets, contact which I trust will lead to our mutual benefit.”

“Thank you, Nera. Myself, my partner and officers are grateful for your kind hospitality.”

You try to pay attention to the formalities between Nera, the Captain, and Lakir the first man, but you aren’t a diplomat, and beyond trying to keep your expression pleasant and listen out for anyone addressing you directly, your mind wanders a little. You wonder about the vehicles you can hear. You’re on top of a tall building, possibly the tallest you’ve been on, and as you look around past the trees and flowers you can see other buildings of similar heights. You think the gravity here may be a tiny bit lower than Earth standard, but this culture really does seem to use its sky space a lot.

You’re also interested in your hosts; although your briefing said that the Mraden and Ginera were equals on the planet, all the guards are Mraden and you’ve barely heard your Genera host’s voices, never mind their names. You wonder whether they communicate telepathically, or whether first and second couples switch between the species periodically. That’s probably it, you reason, and probably the first couple is responsible for security. You turn your attention to the fountains – the middle one is in the shape of a tree, and you’re marvelling at the individually carved leaves, when Chris takes your hand.

“Still with us?” He murmurs into your ear, as you look up to see your hosts are leading everyone through the garden.

“Of course,” you reply quietly, before raising your voice a little. “It’s just so beautiful.” Nera overhears that and smiles over her shoulder, and Chris squeezes your hand, pleased.

You follow the group past the fountains and to a door you hadn’t noticed before. It appears to lead down to a stairway and some guards go through, followed by the second couple, Spock and Ensign James, the first couple, then you and the captain.

But as you approach the doorway you hear a vehicle get louder, and suddenly the guards grab you. Your combat training kicks in as you see Chris struggling – you lean back and stomp on the guard’s foot, eliciting a stream of profanities as you try to elbow him in the solar plexus. But he’s a lot larger than you and had the benefit of surprise, and his grip doesn’t loosen as someone else stuffs a cloth in front of you and you can’t help breathing in the fumes, and you try to hang on but everything goes dark.

It is all his fault.

But blame will have to wait until later.

You assess yourself – other than a mild headache, probably due to dehydration, and a slightly bruised left hip, you feel fine. And the bruising isn’t going to slow you down if you need to make a run for it.

You go through your pockets. Your pants pockets are empty, but you unzip your uniform jacket and the inner one hasn’t been found – the custom one you modified the standard jacket synthesiser program for, because you always need to carry more than the uniform designers planned on, and you didn’t want delicate tools getting damaged when you shoved a communicator or PADD into your pants pocket.

You always have some tools with you because wherever you go, whether you’re on duty or not, someone will say, “You’re an engineer, right? Can you just have a quick look at...” and you make a show of grumbling but actually part of the reason you became an engineer in the first place is that you like to get things working for people. You’re grateful today that that extends to away missions.

You’re surprised to find your communicator on the floor near you, but as you pick it up you realise why it was left: it’s damaged. It had been in your left pocket, and whatever happened to you happened to it first; the casing is all bent and when you try to raise the Enterprise, you get nothing, not even static.

Figures that this would happen again, you think as you examine your communicator, assessing the damage. The real reason you shouldn’t be taken on away missions is because of your terrible luck. This one isn’t totally fried, you discover as you pry it apart and examine the components, but while it will still function as a translator, the transmitter was crushed. The communicator will work again if you can find a compatible part, but there’s no chance of communicating with the ship, and they can’t even lock on to your signal. You pull out the broken transmitter parts and put the case back together, and as you bend the cover back into shape you hear a groan.

“Captain?” You get up and crouch by him. He is leaning against the wall of your windowless cellar, blue eyes squinting. “How are you feeling?”

“A little sore, but fine. You?” He straightens, focusing on you, reaching out a hand to touch your cheek gently.

“I’m fine. A little bruised.” You lean into his touch, briefly, before sitting back down next to him.

“What happened? I remember following our hosts, then a fight, and now I’m here..?”

“Wherever here is. That’s all I remember too. I hope Spock and James are okay.” Now Chris is awake your brain is allowing itself to worry. You frown. You can’t panic again like last time.

“What’s going on in there?” Chris is looking at you, concerned.

“Just... making a decision. To be strong. It sounds silly when I say it out loud.”

He leans over and places a soft kiss on your lips, and for just a moment you forget where you are – it’s just you and him, and the special thing that you have between you. “That’s a decision we all have to make,” he says as he pulls away, thoughtful. “It becomes... less conscious. With time.”

You nod, and you take a moment to breathe. You’ve got this.

“Seems like they’ve been through our pockets,” Chris says, getting to his feet. “My communicator is gone.” He walks over to the door, which is locked. That was going to be your next project.

“I still have mine but unfortunately it won’t communicate,” you say, standing too. “The transmitter got broken at some point. The translation functions are still operational though and it has power.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I’m good, but not that good,” you say, pulling the pieces of the component out your pocket to show him.

“Ah. Any ideas? Other than waiting?”

“After I failed with the communicator I was going to try to pick the lock,” you say, heading toward the door.

“With what?”

“With this.” You pull out a tool with a hook on it which you use to lever broken components off boards when they’re too small for your fingers.

“How do you–”

Chris’s question is cut off by the door in question opening. You just have time to put your tool in your pants pocket before two Ginera appear, brandishing energy weapons. You raise your hands and back away.

“Sit down,” the lead one says, waving his weapon, and you both comply. The other, also male, steps round him and puts two bottles of water on the floor, and a plate of what looks to be food.

“I’m Captain Christopher Pike, of the United Federation of Planets. I promise if you let us go unharmed my people won’t seek punishment against you, or retribution. If not, though, they will come after us.”

The boy, and he is a boy, you realise, twenty at most, snickers. “We don’t intend to hurt you, but we’re not going to let the best chance the GLG has had to be taken seriously go just like that. Sorry.”

“The GLG?” Chris asks, voice gentle. Unthreatening.

“Ginera Liberation Group. And no, your ship knows we have you, but they’re not going to find you. We called them on your communicator, Captain, and told them we had you, and not to look. We weren’t stupid enough to call from here, either,” he adds, and a little spark of hope in you flares out. “And there are 60 million people in this city alone, they’re not going to be able to resolve the life signs of... whatever you are, among all of us.”

“And what is it that the... Ginera Liberation Group wants?”

“To wake people up. To tell the Mraden”—he spits out the word like it’s a curse—”that we won’t take being treated as second-class citizens anymore. And to give the Ginera hope – that we can take back what’s ours. We don’t need their skyscraper cities, where they force us to live in the dirt. We don’t need their language or their stupid pair bonds. We had our own society before and we can have it again.”

Chris sighs, and leans back, looking up at the boy. “Take it from someone who is old enough to be your dad: taking hostages is not the way. The Federation won’t pay a ransom for us. The Mraden won’t listen to you while you have us. But if you let me go, we can have Federation diplomats come, and—”

“We’ve had enough of diplomacy, Captain. We’re taking matters into our own hands now. Enjoy your food.” He turns abruptly and stalks out, his companion in tow.

Chris examines the food – there are four pre-packaged energy bars. He passes one to you, opening one himself. “Might as well do what the kid says.” He takes a bite, grimacing slightly.

You are not hungry, but you take a bite of yours anyway – you know you need to keep your strength up. You grimace too – the flavour is a weird combination of sweet citrus and something almost cheesy. In general you like salt and sweet but this is not it.

Still you force yourself to finish it; you both need to keep your strength up. Thankfully the drink is just water.

After you’ve finished eating Chris speaks again.

“So how about getting out of here? How do you still have that tool, anyway?”

“I have a pocket in my jacket. I have done for years. It’s reinforced so you don’t see it from the outside – as an ensign my commanding officer cared more about aesthetics than practicality – and that’s where I keep my more delicate tools.”

“Ever the engineer, huh?” Chris’s expression is fond and you smile back, warm inside despite your situation. “Come on.”

He stands, and puts his hand out for you. You grasp hold of it and pull yourself up, appreciating the contact. You go to the door, hook tool in hand, and listen at it first. When you’re sure you don’t hear anything from the other side you gingerly put the tool into the keyhole. It doesn’t shock you, which is a good start, but it still takes a few minutes to work out the structure. Chris is patient while you work, not breathing down your neck. You smile in satisfaction as the lock softly clicks open.

“Well done. I figure we sneak out of here then try to alert local law enforcement. Hopefully they can put us in touch with Nera’s people, who can get us back to the ship.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you say, stepping back to let him take the lead.

You follow him along a little corridor then up a flight of stairs, pausing when he motions you to stop. You can hear voices coming from your left and he eases the door open then gestures you to follow again. You catch a glimpse of the room your captors are in on the way past, but happily they have their back to you, looking at a display screen. Then you’re past them, to the front door. Chris opens it as carefully as he can but the last bolt is stiff and scrapes as it opens. You sense movement behind you but you’re through, slamming the door shut behind you, racing across the street and into an alleyway on the other side before they get out. You keep going behind the building opposite, and then Chris has you double back to face the street you were on. You peep round the edge of the building – your captors are standing in their doorway, the leader berating his companion, although you can’t hear what he’s saying.

You step back into the alley.

“Well, the—” Chris starts to say, but he’s interrupted by a loud bang. An explosion. People are screaming and you smell smoke, see orange light from flames.

You follow Chris back onto the street but the building you were in, small, apparently, just three stories amongst all the giant skyscrapers, is billowing flame and smoke from all its windows, on all floors. There’s a crowd of people standing, staring in disbelief, as the last window shatters, sprinkling glass over the crowd.

You turn to Chris. “We—we were—”

“I know,” he says, reaching for your hand. You take it, hearing sirens getting louder. You walk toward the building, knowing there was no way the boys could have survived. You stand at the edge of the crowd, looking at the smoke billowing out, as the authorities arrive.

First there are some Ginera on what looks like a fire appliance. They begin to set up hoses, faces grim. Then some Mraden swoop down in a vehicle painted white with a green logo on it. The crowd, who you notice is made up mostly of Ginera, back away slightly. Chris tows you forward, toward the Mraden who are wearing the same uniform as the guards were in the garden, who knows how long ago. They’re not the same people; their skin tones are both quite pale, but to your horror as soon as they see you they raise their weapons and fire.

You’re running again, keeping up with Chris who leads you straight into the smoke and through, round the corner of the block, down the street, into an alley, out onto another street, into yet another alley, until he’s certain you’re not being followed.

You breathe heavily, holding your hip – you were able to run, and could again, but it hurts.

“That was... unexpected,” Chris says, deadpan, and suddenly you find you have your arms around him, holding tight.

“Too close for comfort,” you say, pulling away a little, as he pats your back.

“I really did think this mission was going to be normal,” he shrugs a little as you step away. “Definitely not worse than last time.”

“I mean I know in theory that away missions are dangerous, but I—I didn’t expect someone I thought was going to help us to shoot.”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Seems like we were supposed to die in that fire...” he frowns as you both try to make sense of what just happened.

“What if it’s all a trick?” You muse aloud. “What if the Mraden are the ones who want us to die? Then they can blame the Ginera and crack down on them even further. And all they had to do was manipulate some kids...?”

Chris’s blue eyes are serious. “You’re right. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. We need to contact the ship. But we can’t trust anyone, and we need to get away from here.” He eyes you speculatively. “It’s an old-fashioned term, so I hope you’ve heard it before, but how do you feel about grand theft auto?”

“It’s called a speeder,” you say, frowning at the display. It hadn’t taken you long to find and break into a suitable vehicle. It was small, rust coloured and nondescript – not shiny and new, but not banged up either. You popped the doors up and open with ease; not that lock picking was anything you’d tried before today, not really, but you may have broken into a shuttle or two during your academy days.

Chris had got in on the drivers side, leaving you to puzzle out the on-board computer with the help of your communicator.

“I’ve hacked into the admin menu and changed the transceiver code; we need to use it to change lanes and stuff – to move up and down.” You scroll though the options in front of you, displaying in English now, rather than the the native Eloma language. Maybe the native Mraden language, you think wryly, as you find a setting which taps into the city’s store directory.

“There’s a hardware store in a block a couple of miles east of here. I know we can’t trust anyone but I think we may have to try. As far as I can tell it’s quite low down – only on the second level. I think it’s more likely to be Ginera than Mraden.”

Chris pauses from where he’s examining the controls. “We may be better off with the Ginera. I’m willing to bet our captors were a fringe group. I’m sure a lot of the Ginera agree with their goals, but probably not their means. They may be less inclined to report us to the authorities.” He nods. “All right. Strap in. Let’s get this show on the road,” he says, as he presses the ignition.

You look out the windshield at the street around you as Chris gets the speeder moving; with all your running away earlier you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings beyond wondering whether you could be seen. It’s grey, down here. Drab, even with all the colourful advertising signs. There’s a layer of grime, something dirty in the atmosphere.

You stare out the window as you drive, keeping an eye out for law enforcement, but you don’t see any. As you get further east the traffic gets a little lighter. You eye Chris sidelong; he seems relaxed as he navigates the unfamiliar city.

“Time to go up,” he says, pressing a control and pulling a lever. You see a flashing indicator to see you have permission to change level, and then you’re ascending.

You’ve spent lots of time in shuttles, piloted yourself in an out of orbit more than a few times, but it feels different in a speeder. More immediate, somehow.

Up here the traffic is moving faster, and you see many different speeders, in all colours and all designs. Some of the buildings have balconies with people, mainly Ginera, sitting reading, hanging out washing – a slice of daily life.

You pass a major junction, impressed with how Chris is handling the traffic signals, and the buildings change – the road is a bit wider, and the shops have speeder parks outside.

You wish your briefing notes had mentioned the local currency, not that knowing about it would do you any good.

“I think we’re here,” Chris says, as he slows the speeder down and sets it down in front of a shop. You look at the sign – you can’t read it but it has the same logo as in the store directory. “Will you be okay to go in alone? I think I should stay here...”

“In case we need to make a fast exit? Aye Captain.” You catch his eye and grin, unplugging the communicator and climbing out of the speeder.

Louvier would love this place, you think as you look around the dark interior. The aisles are narrow and full of parts, a few of which you recognise, and most of which you don’t. There are bins with various components like resistors and capacitors, and power supplies, regulator circuitry, almost anything you could want. Except, as far as you can see, the thing you need – a transmitter.

At the back of the store, sitting behind a counter, is an older Ginera female, hair greying a little, screwdriver tucked behind her ear as she focuses on soldering a circuit. You wait for her to put the iron down.

“Excuse me? I’m wondering if you can help.” She looks up and her eyes widen – she can’t see aliens too often, you think.

“You—” she frowns, shakes her head. “You’re from that starship. But the news net said you were dead. Murdered by those GLG kids.”

“You, um... can’t believe everything you see on the net?”

“They said that the legislature was going to be recalled. That your people are going to come and punish us.”

“That’s—that’s not who we are, at all. Even if some kids had killed us the Federation would never retaliate like that. They would try to find us, if they thought we were alive, and it might complicate negotiations between our peoples but there would be no punishment. But... how many did they say died?”

“The two of you who were abducted from the first couple’s garden.”

Spock and James were safe. The fist bit of good news you’d had today.

“I really need to call my ship, let them know that we’re alive. But my communicator is broken. Do you have a micro transmitter? Something like this?”

You lean down over the low counter to show her your broken component.

“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head. “Nothing I’ve got here would be able to take the power you’d need for orbital communications. We don’t need things like that down here.”

Your shoulders slump. “Thanks anyway,” you say, straightening up.

“Wait. My cousin works in a shop at the shipyards by the spaceport. He’ll have what you need.” She rummages under the counter and produces a business card. “That will show you the way. His name is Jima. Tell him Asba sent you, he’ll give it to you for free.”

“Thank you, so much,” you say, taking the card and putting it in your pocket. “You don’t know how grateful I am, truly.”

“You’re welcome, love.” She turns her soldering iron on again, and smiles at you before getting back to work. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“So am I,” you say, as you turn to leave the shop.

“I have good news and bad news,” you say, as you plug the communicator back into the speeder and put the card into a slot that’s clearly designed for such things: a route shows up on the screen.

“Bad news first,” Chris says with a wry smile, easing the speeder back into traffic. “Although I can guess what it is considering we’re not calling for a beam out right now.”

“ I should have said great, good, bad and worse. You’re right about the bad news – she didn’t have the part. The worse news is that she thinks we’re dead and the Federation is going to come and get revenge on the planet.”

“The Federation will what?” Chris almost swerves into another speeder as he takes the turn late, narrowly missing and causing the other speeder to honk its horn angrily. “Sorry about that,” he adds, a little sheepish.

“My fault for not warning you before dropping bombs. But the good news is Asba in the shop gave us the route you’re following to the shop where her cousin works near the spaceport. And the great news is that we were the only ones captured – Spock and James should be fine.”

“Oh thank god,” he says, fervent.

You access the speeder’s admin menu again as he drives and change the transceiver code again, mainly for something to do, but partly in case the driver of the speeder you nearly hit decides to call the authorities. Then you review your route. The shop you’re going to is several levels higher than you are now; you hope your speeder won’t stick out too much up there.

There are plenty of new things to see out the window, though. As you get higher the buildings are cleaner, windows larger. The shops you see have more elaborate displays with fancier goods, there are more Mraden around, and, as the light begins to turn golden, you pass your first park, full of Mraden children playing.

“The GLG had a point,” you say, almost to yourself.

“In what way?”

“The higher you get, the nicer it is, and the more Madren I’m seeing. Obviously their methods are wrong but... I kind of get it.”

“When we get out of here, I’m going to tell the Federation negotiators that we shouldn’t agree to anything without conditions of the Ginera being discussed. It feels a little like letting the bad guys get what they want in a way, but you can’t make an entire culture suffer because a couple of kids make a stupid choice.”

“And they were probably manipulated, too. That doesn’t excuse them, but—” you lock eyes with a Mraden enforcer as you pass a junction. She recognises you, even through the glass, and mutters into a communicator of some kind.

”But?”

“We’ve been spotted. Turn left! Now!”

Chris makes the turn, speeding up as he also changes up a level. He weaves in and out of traffic, trying to shake your tail, while you hold on for dear life, glad that you strapped in.

“Relax,” he says, as he takes another alarming turn, flying away from another chorus of horns. “My first assignment in Starfleet was as a test pilot.”

“That’s... um... good to know,” you say, weakly, as he brings you up another level and slows sharply. He takes the next turn at a much more sedate pace, before spotting an empty lane in front of you and speeding up again.

“Are we nearly there yet?” You ask, getting a laugh.

“Actually we are.” As you look around you realise you’re on the edge of the industrial district. Ahead you can just see some star ships, a large freighter and shuttles flying around it. “And hopefully we lost them.”

You reset the transceiver code for the third time, back to its factory default, as Chris makes a right between two tall buildings. You switch the transceiver off completely before he makes two more turns; hopefully it’s owner will be able to pick up the signal when it came on again and find it.

“I’ll come too this time.” Chris says, opening his door.

“Thank you for not crashing,” you say as you exit the speeder.

“Any time,” he says, and you both laugh as you enter the shop.

Where the last shop was cramped, this one is spacious. You recognise a lot more components here; they’re not Federation but they’re ship components and you understand what they do.

You and Chris find the small bin with the piece you need pretty quickly, but it’s locked, and you look around for help. You feel eyes on your back and you turn to see a Ginera male looking at you curiously.

“Excuse me,” you say, tone polite and not too eager, “do you know Jima? We’re looking for him.”

“I’m Jima,” he says, stepping closer. Chris puts his hand on your back; for your sake or his you can’t say.

“Asba sent us. She said you could help me get a component to fix my communicator?”

“Is this what you need?” He indicates the bin you were looking at. He pitches his voice quiet and you match it.

“Yes. This is the one I need.”

He unlocks the bin, takes a couple of transmitters out, and beckons you to follow, keeping an eye on the only other customer, a Mraden male. You pass between the aisles to the edge of the store, quietly following his lead, and go through a doorway.

“Asba called me, said you’d be coming. She also said to keep you out of sight. You should be safe here, to fix your tech. Call me if you need anything.” He steps back through the doorway as you hear some other customers enter the shop.

You put that out of mind though, as you hand Chris the communicator while you get your tools out. You can feel tension radiating off him as you take it back but you ignore that too. This is fixing things. It’s what you do. You open the cover and slot the component in, bending a couple of pins to fit and adjusting the power output to compensate for the non standard part.

“They were seen in this area. The speeder they stole is just out here.” Even though you’re concentrating, you can’t shut off your ears entirely. The people you thought were customers when they entered? Law enforcement.

You shut the cover again and hand it back to Chris.

“Didn’t I see them with you, Jima? They must be in the overflow storage.”

You hear loud footsteps as Chris says, “Pike to Enterprise! Get us out of here now!”

He reaches for your hand catching hold as the Mraden enforcement officers come through the door, and the gold light takes you, leaving them staring.

You thought you were glad to get back to Enterprise after you were on Earth. But that was nothing to how you feel now. You keep it together, however, in front of Number One, Spock, and the transporter technician.

“They said you were dead,”Number One says in greeting. “They showed us the burning building. They showed us your burnt communicator with the power cell removed. They said that was the only thing that survived.”

“What’s the quote? ‘The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated’?” Pike shrugs, giving her a half smile.

“ ‘The report of my death was an exaggeration.’ I’m glad you’re okay, Chris, but don’t do that to me again. At least not for another month.”

You shower in your own quarters, having got your bruise treated in sickbay, trying to calm down. Away missions are still a lot. Chris told you to take twenty four before reporting for duty again, and you will, but you get a report written first – you need to make sure that Jima and Asba are safe, and that the ship sends some compensation to the person whose speeder you stole. That done, you check with the computer, change into civvies and join Chris in his quarters.

“Hey,” he says as you walk in, standing from where he was sitting by the window and drawing you into a hug, then a soft kiss. You bring a hand up to his face, running you fingers over the stubble that’s there after a very long day, and kiss him back, heated, your lips moving across his, his tongue licking into your mouth. You pull apart, staring up into his blue eyes.

“You were right,” he says, drawing you across the room to sit next to him on the couch. “There was a Mraden plot. Nera and Lakir have resigned, although they claim they didn’t know what was going on, and Tura and Sama, the Ginera second couple, have taken power until they can hold new elections. It’s going to be a tough road for Eloma, if they’re going to properly confront their problems, but the Federation will help.”

“I’m glad,” you say, leaning into him, enjoying how safe you feel with his arm around you. “I—I hope those boys’ sacrifice turns out to be worth it.”

“Yeah,” he says, kissing your head, and you sit in silence for few minutes.

“Dinner?” He asks eventually.

“Yes if we can have your chilli again. I think we’ve earned it.”

“Oh you definitely did,” he replies, standing to go over to the synthesiser.

“Lieutenant?” It’s two days later and you’re on your way to Engineering from the mess hall. You turn in the corridor, to see Number One standing there, an amused expression on her face.

“Commander?”

“Next time he asks you to go on an away mission, just say no.”

#christopher pike #christopher pike x reader #christopher pike x you #Captain Pike #writings of the girl from outer space #fanfic #fanfiction #star trek discovery #star trek strange new worlds #writer wednesday #The Engineer's Adventures

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bangtanlalaland · 4 years ago

Text

around the way girl | knj (m.)

synopsis ↳namjoon kim was the man you’d fallen in love with in college, while existing in a society where ambw relationships are rare.

→part of the bring it back collection!

— 1990’s!au; strangers to lovers!au

→pairing: underground rapper!kim namjoon x beauty supply store worker!black female reader

→genre: fluff, smut

→word count: 4.7k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: that beautiful, interracial love (AMBW) [if you’re racist, fuck off my page!] some major fluff action here, joon is so soft, (I stg he’s a dom but also a hopeless romantic. the DUALITY. agsgsjlldlejd), rapper joon makes an appearance, sweet love making, name calling (cute shit, I promise), also the use of DADDY, lots of kissing and caressing, body worshiping, oral (f receiving), protected sex (no glove, no love baby), fingering, over-stimulation, namjoon is so inspired by hip hop culture, y’all I tried really hard to sprinkle some 90′s vibes in there so bare with me ok,

a/n: heyyyy loves! I wanted to do something different, considering that I hardly come across any fics (specifically BTS) with a woc or simply a black reader. so here’s one to all of my beautiful, black queens out there! much love to you all & I want you to know I am here & stand with you.

song rec: “around the way girl” by ll cool j

☞ disclaimer: If any of the warnings listed above offends you in any way, please do not read. It is not my intention to start any sort of debate/argument in regards to racism, culture appropriation, etc. Therefore if any characters, settings, and/or facts/statements are incorrect, please disregard. However, this body of text is for entertainment purposes only. All characters, settings, scenarios, and dialogue are fictitious. Any similarity to events or persons, whether living or dead, is coincidental.

It was like a movie, from start to finish. Growing up, times were hard and challenges never ceased to fade. But, you pushed through — the good, the bad, and the ugly. Lost ones along the way, realized you couldn’t trust everyone, but you grew. As an independent, young, black woman living in America. And then something happened, that changed everything.

The year of 1998, when fall semester classes at your college just ended, which called for finding a seasonal job for the time being. And that’s how you ended up working at Queen Beauty Supply about two blocks from your place. You grew up knowing Mr. Park (who is the owner and now your boss) all your life. As you were a child, your mother supported his business, always stocking up on flexi rods, Just for Me relaxers, Goody brushes, and all. Even the endless amounts of barrette balls of every color you could think of, she made sure you had. And seeing that you blossomed, Mr. Park was more than honored to hire you for a seasonal gig. You loved him as if he was your family, just as well as he loved you.

It all started that one evening when you worked the register, fancy-ing some Poetic Justice-style braids, showcasing your figure with a halter top and mom jeans. A small stereo behind you blared the latest hits on the radio, Jon B currently on play. You flipped through the latest issue of Word Up! Magazine, admiring the new spread that featured Mya, Monica, and Brandy — your two in. acrylic, nails dragging across the pages. The sound of the bell jingles over the door, indicating the arrival of a customer. Your gaze turns up to greet said customer, and your eyes meet with the fellow that entered.

And damn were you blown away for a hot sec. He was cute, really cute. You hadn’t even realized he asked you something, while standing in front of you on the opposite side of the counter. He’s Asian, obviously. His eyes having told it all. They were different, not shaped like yours, but beautiful. Which was intriguing. But him simple being here in a beauty supply store was interesting, Yes, it’s ironic. The owner himself being Asian, but the intended audience is your fellow black folks. You could tell he’s obviously inspired by your culture since he sported a bucket hat and a loose, white tee that may have been just two sizes too big for him — which is rare nowadays to find on an Asian man. But, you don’t question it. Of course, you’re well aware people of all races are influenced by hip hop culture so in a way, it doesn’t surprise you as much. Okay, maybe a little. But still.

“Can I help you?” His eyes did a weird thing, but it was cute. He was cute.

“Do you have du-rags here?” Your eyebrows raise and head cocks to the side, having abandoned the magazine you were just reading.

“What do you want with a du-rag?” You question, knowing well the texture of his hair can’t form into waves, so you suppose it’s for a fashion statement. He starts blushing, his eyes shut and beautiful pearly whites on display. Damn, did he have you hooked on the spot and you didn’t even know his name yet. You had to hurry up and get him out of here for your own sake, so you took the lead. A few beats passed before he realized you were leading the way to what he needed. He stumbled a little.

“It’s uh- For my performance,” He slips, trailing behind you while passing by the rows of hair-care products, leading towards the back of the store.

“Performance? You dance?” You question, while strutting down the row of where the brushes, combs, barrettes and the jewelry wall was displayed — purposely swaying your hips back and forth just a tad too much for dramatic effect. He definitely noticed, his eyes glued to your form and wondering how your jeans could mold those curves so perfectly.

He blushes at the thought but replies, “I’m a rapper,” And that’s when you stop in your tracks, flipping your braids behind your back and placing your hand on your hip, giving him the same expression that you gave at the counter.

“A rapper?” You ask, while taking him in from head to toe. You notice his white Air Force Ones.

Damn, he is so fine.

He has style, you’ll admit that. But an Asian rapper? That’s unheard of, at least in your neighborhood.

“Do you, boo.” You shrug, while gesturing toward the wall on your left, that displayed various colors of du-rags. You step away to return to the register and then he speaks again.

“What about Blue Magic?” As if he hadn’t surprised you enough, you cross your arms, facing him.

“Well…. it depends on what you want.” You pause, and roll on your heels to walk again, he follows behind you.

“We have coconut oil, but the hair food is out of stock right now. The hair and scalp treatment is limited quantity, but we do have Castor Oil and Super Sure Gro.” You arrive at the row of hair care products, with numerous brands of oils, treatments, and more that cover the shelves. After leaving him there, you admired the way his eyes were shot wide, and you knew damn well he was not 100% sure of what he was looking at — as he searched for the product that piqued his interest.

And so it became a regular occurrence. He’d come in at least once every two weeks, buying the same thing. A du-rag and Super Sure Gro. Some days you’d even be a little extra to “up” your appearance, in hopes he’d notice or in some fantasy world, he’d compliment you. Maybe even ask about you or your day. Or if you’d like to go watch a movie with him or even hit up a spot for some good food. You ponder if he’d be into trying soul food someday. Your mom always did say that a way into a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well, more-so implying that you should know how to get down and dirty in the kitchen.

—

The bell jingles again, while you’re out on the floor stocking up the shelves with bottles of Luster’s Pink Oil Formula. Reaching below into the box to grab a few more bottles, you hadn’t noticed he was towering above you. You jumped slightly when you meet eyes with him, nearly dropping the contents you held onto.

“Don’t you know not to run up on a black woman like that? I may be little, but I can kick your ass!” You both break out into a contagious laugh. He stuffs his hands into his baggy jeans of his, that gorgeous smile spreads across his face. He clears his throat,

“I- Uh- I’m- I’m sorry, I-”

You shake it off, “You’re fine, boo.” Your hand finds its way into his shoulder, a light rub as you brush past him to head for the register. He hesitates, trailing behind you as he fights for the right words to say.

“I-I just, I-” You reach the front of the counter and turn to make eye contact with him. Your eyebrows raise slightly, taking in how he’s struggling to piece his words together. You place your hand on his shoulder again and note how he gazes at you with those same wide eyes you’d grown familiar with over the past few weeks. His lips parted slightly as if he was going to say something but didn’t.

“It’s okay-” You trail off, in hopes he’d catch on.

“Oh, right. N-namjoon. My name is Namjoon.”

You smile in response, lightly rubbing his arm with your palm.

“Is there…. Something you want to say? I promise, I don’t bite,” You state with a soft smile. You notice his shoulders easing themselves down. Part of you wonders what he was so tense for.

“You should come to my performance-” He says rapidly then pauses, looking down and then back up to you, “I would like it- I mean I think that you- You would like my performance.” He internally hates himself for being shy around you, his cheeks so tight and raised from smiling hard, and you could have literally melt in that moment. You thought it was cute to see him that way. To know you made him feel all flustered.

There was a grand amount of effort he’d built to approach you. The very, first day he arrived at the store, he wanted to say something then. He went home that night rehearsing how he’d spark up a conversation with you. He even recalls one time he’d seen you at a bus stop sucking on a lollipop, and how tempted he was to say something then. But he couldn’t. He was afraid of rejection, and he wasn’t sure how to approach you. So when he’d visit the beaut store and see your face, he’d grow warm on the inside. And when you would make eye contact with him, his heart would stop. When you would speak to him with that sweet voice of yours, he’d freeze.

So when you said yes you would be there, he cried afterwards. Not in front of you of course, but on the bus back to his place. He couldn’t believe that you didn’t reject him. Throughout the weeks, he’d contemplated because he didn’t know how you felt about people of his race. He didn’t know how your race felt about people like him in general. Although, it never mattered to him. Because he believed that love is love. As long as you’re happy with that person, that is all what truly matters. He believed everyone deserves to have that kind of love. Little did he know, you felt the same way.

And then things advanced between the two of you.

It was the night he invited you to an underground party, and it was live. Music thumped with never-ending bass, people danced and smoked, and the space felt warm and cluttered, courtesy of body heat. You gradually ease your way through the space, attempting to find some kind of “safe haven” amongst the grinding, moving bodies within the cramped atmosphere. The music settles down, which causes you to look ahead, realizing you’re in front of the stage where the DJ is posted up on the left.

“Alright, y’all! You already know what time it is.” The DJ blatantly announces through his microphone. The crowd somewhat reacts, but not to his liking you assume.

“I said… Y’all already know what time it is!” Everyone goes wild, screaming, chanting and whistling.

“Tonight, I wanna welcome y’all my boy. From the East side, he’s an up and coming rapper- Y’all check this,” He pauses for a moment, “He is a Korean rapper! Y’all feel me? What y’all know about a Korean rapper, aight?” He shakes his head throwing his hands up.

“Imma let y’all have this one, but I’m tellin’ y’all! You don’t know nothing bout this!” You smile uncontrollably, aware of who he’s talking about. Also somewhat anxious to see what the hype is about, your nerves making your stomach churn just a little too much while you’re out in public.

“Give it up for my boy, RM!” The DJ, swivels the record on his turntable back and forth. And there Namjoon was, appearing from the side of the stage, with his du-rag and bucket hat, loose tee, baggy jeans, and those familiar Air Force Ones you’d grown to recognize. You also peep the Cuban chain that adorns his neck.

And then the beat kicks in. Which was also familiar, you note that it’s the beat for “I Need Love.” Everyone starts bobbing their heads, including him. Including you.

He throws his hand up, shoving gestures to go along with the rhythm of the music, while using his other hand to firmly hold onto his mic.

“I’d like to introduce myself, The name is RM, Let’s rewind and take you back to when it first started, Very first time that I walked in the shop, I was startled and I swear I had felt my heart drop, You made me wanna get down on my knees, Begging, please, Coulda told you I was sprung the moment I seen ya,”

He makes eye contact with you and points directly in your direction. He’s talking about you, right? He’s got to be. There’s no way he isn’t. You continue bobbing your head to the beat, and you can’t fight the smile in return.

“Dang baby, how’d you fit in those jeans? Hips got a brother feeling like he’s in a dream, Couldn’t even keep my head straight, Yeah I’m Asian but damn, Somethin’ must have went left and messed up my fam, Sittin’, thinkin’, contemplatin’, and wonderin’, How could I get this fine lil shawty to blushin’? Hopin’ that you’ll say yes and lemme steal you from the scene, Treat you like a queen and show you what a real man can be,”

He stares at you for a moment too long, yet you’ve already grown too hot for the jean jacket you’re wearing over your tube top.

“I need love,” he adds before dropping the mic; everyone suddenly is hype, continuously cheering him on and giving him props for his performance.

“I told y’all! Give it up for my boy, RM!” The DJ adds, patting him on the back while smiling from ear to ear. But, his eyes are focused on you, and only you — who just can’t seem to shake off the bright smile plastered on your face, you attentively graze your bottom lip with your teeth to attempt stopping yourself from smiling so much. But, you fail. And he takes note of that, returning a smile to you. You could tell he’s blushing, his dimples appearing before he dips his head low.

So shy, yet so damn fine. How is that even possible?

—

That same week, he surprised you at work, stumbling in to rap a few verses about how beautiful you are to him, and he pulled a bouquet of roses he hid from behind his back. You remembered that day so clearly. You remembered kissing him, hugging him, holding his hand, smelling the flowers. You also remembered Mr. Park interrupting your little PDA session to scold you about: “No kissing and no sex on the clock!”

But, Namjoon loved you more than you could think. And he didn’t care who in the world thought it was wrong for you two to fall in love. Because the night you two had arrived at his apartment, lips intertwined with one another, and hands roaming each others bodies, was when everything became so clear.

You both stumble inside, too wrapped up in locking lips with one another. Namjoon guides you toward his bedroom; and being the klutz he is, he stubs his shoe on the baseboard leading to his bedroom. You both break the kiss, and you can’t help but chuckle at his clumsy ways.

“Why you laughing at me, huh?” He lifts you up and you can’t help the half gasp/half giggle that escapes your lips, immediately wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bed. He gently lies you down on your back and hovers above you. You unexpectedly snatch his bucket hat off, tossing it somewhere on the floor — his faded, white-blonde and dark brown strands on display.

“Did you have to do my Kangol like that?” He whines with furrowed brows. You tap his bottom lip, dragging your finger across the plump flesh.

“Shut up and kiss me.” His gold Cuban link chain hangs from his neck, prompting your fingers to tug it down, and you do so, his lips smashing with yours yet again. Your fingers lace themselves within his hair, admiring the feel of his oiled scalp. His lips massage yours in a way that’s beyond comforting, and you make sure to inform him how nostalgic kissing feels. Drawn-out moans spew from you, and you can’t help but wonder how in the hell could you be in this time and moment with him. Piece by piece all of your garments end up lost on the ground, along with his clothing. He had you caged in to his bed and kept himself hovered over you, planting kisses along your neck trailing down to your collarbone.

“Mmm, Joon.” You follow his lead, kissing his blush-colored lips, snaking through his silky strands. His hands travel behind your back to remove your lace bra, revealing your breasts that illuminate from the moonlight peeking through the blinds of his window, your chocolate nipples hardened and desperate for attention. His eyes are blown wide, cherishing every dip and curve of your body.

“Wow,” He admits, his erection growing behind his undergarment. He holds a few moments to etch this view of you within his memory, appreciating every trait of your being in this form. His hands find placement on your hips, pulling you to his body completely — the soft, plushness of your breasts pushed against his chest. He rubs the outline of your face, slowly dragging his index finger along your jawline.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world. You know that?” You let out a small giggle, feeling vulnerable in this state. He kisses you, being sure to suck your bottom lip, pulling and tugging softly with his teeth. His hands roam down your back and land on your ass cheeks, gripping with force. Your breath hitches, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, in hopes to ease him in just a little more. Even though physically it isn’t possible. He teases your bottom lip with a swipe of his tongue, asking for entrance.

And you let him in, sucking and licking him back in response, both of yours saliva mixing with each others, and not a care in the world — too consumed in each other. He gropes your ass, causing a moan to slip from you. His large palms kneading the cushion-y flesh, and damn is he grateful for this moment in time with you. He pulls from your lips with an audible smack, and you relish in the sight of his thick lips all swollen and damp.

“I love you, ____” He admits with those delightful irises.

“I love you too, Namjoon.” He guides you to lie down on your back, hovering above you as he places kisses along your jawline, leading down your neck, taking his time to cherish every part of you. His hands roam along your sides, caressing the curves of your body. He kisses the area between your breasts and stops suddenly, eyeing you for approval. As if understanding, you nod. His tongue peeks out and circles your right nipple, he wraps his lips around the bud and sucks with tenderness, making sure to release with a pop each time while his other hand massages your left breast.

Your core aches as a result, needing to feel him so the void inside your walls can be filled. He repeats this with your other tit, sucking your nipple while massaging the other, pinching and rolling the bud between his fingers. Your core throbs with an intense pleasure, soaking your now soiled panties. He eases down further, planting kisses down your tummy and moving along the inner thighs of your mocha skin, praising the smooth, supple, flesh. His fingers tug the band of your lace panties, and he eyes you again for approval.

“Please,” You plead, and it was all he needed to hear to remove the garment and reveal yourself to him, treasuring the sight of your lips dripping from arousal. He wastes no time, as you feel his warm, wet muscle gliding along your folds, his nose nuzzling your clit in the process. Your fingers snake into his hair and hips buck upwards to move along the rhythmic motions of his tongue, while he devours you whole as if he’d become a man starved.

“Joon!” You praise, panting for air, Your gaze follows between your legs, cherishing the man that continues to eat you out. He watches your expressions, glaring deeply into your eyes as he does so. His fingers ease toward your folds, rubbing his digits along your drenched pussy, coating them with your wet. He watches you still, not wanting to leave your gaze as he enters a finger inside you. You moan his name in response. His finger delves deep within you, your walls sucking him in perfectly.

“So good for me,” He lashes his tongue out to lick your clit in a circular motion. The sight of him between your thighs makes your heart quiver. He deliberately adds a second finger, his lengthy digits curling themselves upwards and dragging along the walls of your womanhood. His nails dig along the flesh of your thighs, keeping you settled and under his grip, his lips suck on your clit til no end. His obscene noises send a shockwave of pleasure through you, and your toes curl at the sensation. He pulls his fingers from out of you and tastes your arousal that clings to him.

“Tastes so good,” He moans, and you can’t help your thighs from rubbing together to ease the tension that has built. Then, he blushes at the view of you, all horny and ready for him. Only him. How can he be so cute and so fine at the same time? You ask yourself this everyday. Your legs move on their own accord, struggling to draw him back in. He chuckles at your actions.

“You want more, baby?” He questions in that deep, sexy voice of his.

You nod in reply, “Yes, Joon. Please, daddy?” His famous dimples reappear, and those mesmerizing, pearly whites appear. He dives back down, trailing kisses along your tummy, leading to your mound. He worships your body as he had wanted to do since the day he met you, gripping and rubbing along your skin. He moans against you, admiring the feel of you under his fingertips. His lips encase around your clit again, and your body jerks from the sudden feeling. His tongue slides along your folds, sucking and slurping, making the most lewd noises.

His fingernails drag along your thighs, adding an odd tingle within you. You follow his motions and graze your nails on top of his hand, when an unexpected bliss washes over you — causing you to writhe underneath him. He continues sucking your clitoris until you can’t take anymore, your legs gliding up an down along his back, back arching off the mattress, eyebrows furrowing and you simply drowning in euphoria with trembling thighs as your nails drag along his scalp and your cries echo within his eardrums.

“Joon, daddy!” Your nails dig further into his hand, and fingers tug harshly onto his strands. Your core now sensitive to the touch, something you’d never experienced before. He moves his head back and forth, delving deeper and not wanting to let go. You scratch his back, now in hopes he’d give up. You’re nearly convinced he’s going to kill you with that tongue of his, and then out of nowhere, he pushes two fingers inside you. Your toes curl for what feels like the millionth time, and you whimper his name repeatedly.

He thrusts his digits into you, a loud squelching noise filling up the space. And you feel those plush lips wrap around your clit again. He ruts against the bed, wanting to feed the tension within his groin. Your feet now having fought the sheets you lay upon, twisting and turning due to the over-sensitivity. But in some strange sentiment, there’s another wave. And here you are having your second orgasm of the night.

“Fuck, Ungh- I’m cumming again!” Your body shakes violently, not having control over the orgasm that’s overtaken you. An uncontrollable scream slips out and you shove Namjoon away from you with a strained push, his chin now glistening with you. He wipes the residue from his face with the back of his hand, grinning at you fucked out and waiting on his bed. He pulls a condom from somewhere in his drawer and wraps himself up.

He was so thick, thicker than you thought. You lay flat on your tummy and Namjoon sets himself on top of you, caging you in again. He notes the glow upon your ebony skin as he coats his protected member with your drenched self, adding a line of his own saliva and finally diving into you with every inch he has, at a slow, steady pace. But the places he reaches leave you wondering what you’d done to deserve this kind of dick.

Magnificent.

“Beautiful, black queen,” he slips in between breaths, rocking his hips against yours. The position granting him a much deeper access. You gasp at his remark, clenching your walls tighter around him, he hisses in response. His warm breath fans the right side of your face, and he presses a kiss along your earlobe while adding,

“All mine. You’re my black queen, understand? Can’t nobody take that away from me.”

“Yes Namjoon,” You reply. “I’m all yours.”

His cock twitches at the sound of his name slipping from your lips within this state — having you underneath him like this, needy, desperate, and only craving him. He inches to meet your lips with his. His kisses are filled with want and desire, full of love. That sweet, sweet love.

“Give it to me daddy,” You say under your breath but audible enough for him to hear, and he takes heed to continue thrusting himself into you, his delicate, golden skin glimmering with perspiration. The sound of your bodies clapping against each other resonate throughout his apartment, as soft whimpers and moans fall from you, and he utilizes every millisecond of this moment to drown himself in your presence.

“So tight, so wet. So beautiful.” His hips buck in a gentle, yet stern manner, causing your body to jerk upward and eyes to shut close in response — his balls slapping your ass with each thrust of his hips, he continuously hits that sweet spot over and over again, your eyes rolling back due to the nostalgia. He eases his fingers in between your legs to rub circles into your clit simultaneously, and it doesn’t take long for your walls to contract for the third time that night.

“Fuck baby,” He coos with followed moans and groans, spilling himself while still buried in you. You shudder underneath him with nails dragging along the sheets, and muffled moans from burying your face, as you call out his name like it was the only function your brain could process.

He eases himself out of you, and you can’t help the low gasp that emits from you — having been so full of him and sensitive at the same time. A few moments later, and the slight shift of the bed indicates he vanished to discard the condom. You simply lay there, slowly processing that he’d given you the best sex you’ve ever had, being that his main focus was pleasuring you.

But it was in those final moments when Namjoon cuddled you afterwards, bodies attached together by sweat, gasping for air and basking himself in the warm, vanilla, sugar aroma of your essence — that he knew he was in love with you. And there was nothing anyone could ever say to change his feelings.

You break the silence having thought of Namjoon’s words you recall from his performance.

“Think you’ve found it?” He watches your form with raised eyebrows.

“Found what?” You trace circles along his chest, gazing upon his abdomen.

“Love,” You state, and a silence falls that makes your body warm up in a flash.

He shakes his head in a “no” gesture, “I don’t think I have.” The sudden pause of his sentence makes your heart drop.

“I know I have.” He kisses your forehead and draws you closer to him, holding onto you for dear life — like he’s afraid he’d lose you. You beam at his gesture, curling up into his figure. His heart thumps from the immense affection between the two of you. Your now closed eyes like an irreplaceable gift to him.

“My around the way girl,” He whispers to himself, while petting your hair and drifting off into slumber.

#houseofddaeng #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bangtanhq #btsgoldnet #mikrogalaxynet #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #rm fluff #rm smut #bts fluff #bts smut #kim namjoon #ambw #bts ambw #bangtanlalaland

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cowboisadness · 4 years ago

Text

Hang ‘Em High {Arthur Morgan x FemOC} Chapter 10

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x FemOC Summery: Belle Hawthorne is high society looking to escape her mean husband. A robbery by the Van Der Linde gang could be her chance. Can she escape his cluches and possibly discover what love should feel like?

Warnings: None

.....

The next morning was blissfully quiet, everyone going about their business and doing camp chores as per usual. Sitting with Mary-Beth, hand deep in laundry buckets overflowing with soapy water I couldn't help but wonder why there wasn't a sense of urgency after the meeting with those Pinkertons yesterday. With how worried Arthur seemed I was under the impression it was a serious matter that would need to be dealt with in some way. Maybe they were used to this happening, maybe it wasn’t as big of a deal as I perceived it to be.

“Do you read, Miss Bella?” Mary-Beth asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Sure. Used to always read as a kid.”

“Any of those being romance and love stories? Those are my favourite to read.”

“A few. Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, Madame Bovary, although that one is tragic in the end.” I wring out a shirt covered in dirt and even blood from a recent stagecoach job a few of the men went on. I didn't even want to ask whose blood it was. Scrunching my nose in slight disgust and plunging the shirt back into the water to work at it some more.

“I’ve written a few little stories of my own, hoping to write a novel someday.” She smiled sheepishly to me then looking back down to the bucket. Violently scrubbing at something that must also look in the same state as the shirt currently in my hands.

“Haven’t you ever thought of leaving and making a true love story of your own?” I shift my legs from below me to sit more comfortably. The knife I hadn’t yet given back to Arthur after being at the lake slightly stabbing into my ankle from its position in my boot.

“I have once or twice. It’s too dangerous for us ladies being out in the world alone. I don’t know where I would be if Dutch and Hosea didn’t find me a few years ago.”

“What happened?” I look at her now. I had a genuine curiosity when it came to knowing these peoples stories and how they all came together. They all had lives I would only ever hear about in story books or newspapers so being a part of their lives and this merry band of fools was still rather surreal to me. Like one of those dreams that feel so real until you woke up, only I hoped I wouldn’t wake from this due to the fear of waking up back in that house, Frank at my side

“I was getting chased by a few men I had stolen from. I’m a damn good pickpocket but I must have got a bit too confident. Dutch and Hosea saw and helped me get away with them.”

I shot her a smile, both of us continuing with our tasks before Miss Grimshaw made her rounds and scolds us for slacking.

By mid-afternoon when some sense of quiet had fallen within the camp, I made my way to the edge of the camp, sitting upon a rock and looking out over the overlook, coffee in hand. My fingers still shriveled up, resembling raisins from the seeminly never-ending laundry this morning.

“Not thinking of jumping again are you?” Arthur pulls me from my thoughts as he approaches.

“Not funny. Besides, why would I jump when I have a gun in my possession now?”

He huffs at that, coming over to stand beside me and pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his satchel. Lighting one with a match strike to the rock I was sat on. “You okay after yesterday?”

“Yeah, just,” I bite my lip, thinking of the right words to say “Is nothing going to be done about it? Seems like a serious issue.”

“Dutch says he’s dealing with it.”

I hum at this, trusting his word on the matter.

“Busy today?” I ask, taking a brief sip of my coffee, feeling it flow down my throat and burn slightly.

“Well, had to collect some debt not far from here on behalf of Strauss. Fella was dead already.”

“Have you told Strauss that you didn’t get the money?”

“Nah not yet. Should have forced it from the widow but I couldn’t. Might be legal work but it don’t sit right with me,”

“How so?”

“Robbing banks and stealing from rich folk is one thing, they have all the money they need while others starve. Strauss picks out those that are starving, those with nothing.”

“Don’t do it then.” I shrug, seemingly pointing out the obvious.

“We need the money.” He shrugs too, taking a drag and blowing out the plume of smoke.

“So do they. Help people as need helping. That’s what you said to me.”

“Ain’t that simple.” he huffs again, this time in frustration.

“I’m still not accustomed to your way of life yet. But, I do have a few questions.”

“Shoot.”

“Five thousand dollars. How on earth did you get a bounty that high?”

“Numerous things. Robberies, killings, hostages.”

“Oh, I’m familiar with that one.” I nod before turning to face him. Arthur swaying slightly with a hand resting on his gun belt before continuing.

“Being Dutchs’ main gun, so they call me, is probably a reason too. I wasn’t involved with the job in Blackwater but my name was mentioned regardless.” He takes another drag before flicking the stub out over the edge.

“What happened in Blackwater?” I ask, my coffee now cooling and long-forgotten, still in the clutches on my hands and perched on my lap.

And so he told me of what happened. That he had a job with Hosea that seemed like it would work out fine without needing to rob a ferry full of bank money. That the robbery turned into a massacre, swarmed by Pinkertons with no way but to shoot their way out and everyone fleeing for the hills. The hushed words of Dutch killing an innocent woman. Having to escape from Blackwater and the Great Plains and up into the deadly icy mountains, losing most of their possessions, all their money and a few members along the way. Then they ended up here, trying to lay low until they had enough money to leave again. That’s why they planned to rob Frank. Strike up a false business deal and then take what he had at the party all those weeks ago. It was risky but with being so far from Saint Denis they thought it would be worth a shot. They are desperate. “I know plenty of rotten rich folk. If any opportunity comes up for you to rob them. I’m more than happy to give over whatever information I have.”

“Really? You would help us to rob your fancy friends?”

“They ain’t my friends. Like I said, some of them are rotten and deserve it.”

“Sure.”

There were a few moments of silence as he shifted on his feet again. I turned back to the view ahead and then down to the cold cup in my hands, huffing as I flung the liquid out onto the grass at my feet. Might as well get another cup.

“I best go see what John wants in town.”

I nodded with a smile and with that he left and made his way to the horses. Giving his horse a few gentle pats on the neck before mounting up and leaving camp towards Valentine.

Sitting with Abigail and Tilly at the fire a few hours later, laughing amongst ourselves and sharing a bottle of whiskey, enjoying the easy day it had been. That was until rumbling hoof beats came thundering down the eastern path. Dutch, John and an injured Strauss shouting for everyone to get started on packing up the camp now. Dutch made his way to his tent, Hosea following in quickly behind him.

With the sudden sense of urgency, everyone stood and started gathering whatever they could around the camp, preparing wagons and disassembling tents. I didn’t really know what to do, so I sought out Grimshaw for orders as she was swiftly moving about the camp, making sure everyone was doing something. She soon presented me with one, helping Pearson pack up the food wagon and to make sure nothing is left behind. I turned on my heels and made a beeline towards the wagon in question wondering what the hell had happened for us to be moving so quickly. Questions for later I told myself as I helped Pearson empty water barrels and pack up all food wares.

It wasn’t long until everything was packed up, evidence that this had been done probably a few times in the past. Dutch had us all follow him in the front wagon, telling us all of a place that has been cleared out for us thanks to Charles and Arthur. I mounted Orion instead of sitting in a wagon with the other girls, staying close behind everyone as we made our way. The new camp sat right by Flat Iron Lake and it didn’t take long to reassemble everything again. Everything back up and running by nightfall.

The next morning everyone seemed to be woken by the brightness dawn brought upon us but the heat that Lemoyne was known for. Everyone was already sweating and agitated, although that agitation could also be down to having to run once again. Getting themselves into more trouble and some worried that it was going to be simply impossible to get themselves out of this hole they are digging for themselves. They believed Dutch would get them all to brighter pastures. A blind loyalty that hasn't failed them before. We were all filled in on the goings-on the day before by word of mouth. A shootout with Cornwalls men, John and Strauss lucky to get out with their lives if it wasn't for Dutchs’ way with words and Arthurs’ way with guns.

A few others planned on heading into the town nearby, Rhodes. To get a feel of the place and scope out any potential jobs or leads. Karen and I sat in the wagon, Arthur and Charles upfront as we made our way to the new town with new possibilities. I had mentioned a previous visit to Rhodes to sell a few horses to the Braithwait family that live nearby. Once at the dusty town of Rhodes, a thankful change from a soiled and shit foul town of Valentine, we all decided to split. Arthur and Charles made their way to the station, Karen towards the parlour house and I made my way to the general store. We were under strict orders not to ask too many questions to prevent bringing any unwanted attention to ourselves. Strangers turning up to this small town asking strange questions would spread quickly here. Three men sat on the stairs of the store, making my way past them without a second thought and entering the small store. A chime above the door alerting the owner as I made my way inside. The place didn't have much but it had the basic necessities. Sauntering around I took in what they had. Coffee, salted meat, tinned fruit, fresh produce, a few tonics and...chocolate bars. The corners of my mouth lifted in a bright smile at the sight of something sweet, oh it had been a good while since I had chocolate and I'm sure $2 for one bar would be worth it.

I picked up a bar and a box of oatcakes for Orion, swiftly making my way to the counter to ring up my purchases.

I exchanged pleasantries with the owner, a thin man with sparse hair on his head but an impressively large moustache. He asked if I was staying in town long when the door charm rang out behind me. I paid no mind to the various footsteps I could hear instead y attention was caught when one cleared their throat, prompting me to turn to face them. It was the three men previously sat outside, their attention solely on me.

“You look awfully familiar, Miss” One man said with a slight Irish accent from what I could tell.

“I’m new to town. Just passing through.” I smile slightly

“A lady shouldn’t be passing through town on her own.” Another man said, stood by the door.

“Oh, I’m not…”

“Why don't you come with us?” The first man drawled, taking slow but confident steps towards me. Instinctively I moved back each time he made a step forwards, quickly being stopped by the serving counter digging into my back. “I...I assure you gentlemen I am... not alone” I stuttered, my eyes swiftly looking towards the windows in the hopes someone, anyone, would make their way over.

“I don't see anyone else here. You're coming with us, missy.” With that, he lurched forward to grab my arms. His grip digging into my flesh as I tried helplessly to push him off. Mentally scolding myself for not bringing my gun with me.

“Get off me!” I squealed, my thrashing no use as one of the other men appeared beside me, tying a cloth around my head and pushing the fabric into my mouth to quell my protests. A black sack following soon after to cover my full head.

I trashed as hard as I could, kicking the man still gripping my arms so hard I'll for sure be left with bruises.

“You're making this worse for yourself, missy. And you... say a word of this to anyone and this place will be burned to the ground with you in it!” With that, they began to drag me away through what must have been through the back door, away from the main street.

My hand got tied together swiftly, the rope burning into my flesh and tears burning down my face. Trying to pull back was useless, digging my heels into the dry dirt a weak attempt to escape their relentless grasps. Hauling me up and onto the back of a horse, the three men laughed as they mounted. Taking me away to god knows where to do god knows what to me.

“Any funny business and I’ll punch seven shades of shit outta you. Give you something to cry about.” The man whose horse I was upon shouted back towards me, thundering hoofbeats ringing out in my ears.

@kashasenpai

#hang em high #hang em high fic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan fic #rdr #rdr2 fic #red dead redemtion 2 #fanfiction #fanfic #arthur morgan x original female character

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ca-8 · 4 years ago

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(Heartbreak From War)

(Fusionfall X Reader) Chapter One

Sobbing. That was what (Y/N) heard in the darkness. Everything on her body stung and ached terribly, so she couldn't move. All she could do was listen to the cries.

"She can't be dead!" a male voice shouted.

"(Y/n)...sweetie, please wake up..." a female voice whispered closely.

"Where are the paramedics?!" another female voice shouted in the distance. (Y/n) became more conscious as these familiar voices continued to shout and weep.

'Huh...what's going...on...?' her mind mumbled. A sudden dryness entered her throat, and a blinding light drove out the darkness.

(Y/n) gasped as she shot awake on her bed. She whipped her head around only to see that she was in her room. She turned her head towards the window to her left, and she was greeted by the moon dominating the night sky. The young woman looked over to her alarm clock, which read three o' nine.

(Y/n) laid back down on her bed. Her (E/C) eyes stared up at the ceiling, pondering about her dream before sighing when she realized fully what it was. 'That happened four years ago. I should have gotten over it by now,' she thought. Her eyes wandered to the right side of the room when they caught sight of a (F/C) necklace on her nightstand.

Inside of the glass case, the necklace glittered under the moonlight. Small four (F/C) gems were lined up on one chain, while the biggest spot for a missing (F/C) gem hung below them in the middle, separating the smaller ones into twos. The main spot for the larger missing gem hung like a teardrop as if it was the symbol of (Y/n)'s life: beautiful, mysterious, and despairing.

(Y/n) sighed and turned her body towards the window. The stars that partnered the moon were glimmering over the black and white CN sign. (Y/n)'s small town was beside the logo, so her house had a perfect view of it. Slowly, (Y/n)'s lips curled into a smile.

'I shouldn't be stuck in the past. I'm visiting someone who I haven't seen in a while today! Who knows when he's going to disappear again? And I have to meet Dexter at his lab for a surprise...Gosh, I haven't seen him in months...And Frankie asked me to come in Foster's Home...Wonder what that's all about...And Ben asked me to hang out with him and Gwen...And Blossom...' Before she knew it, (Y/n) drifted back into a peaceful sleep.

~That morning~

Seven o'clock. The time when the sun was starting to peek over the hills that surrounded CN City. Sunlight bathed the town, and shined through the windows of the suburban houses and large buildings to awake the citizens. Past the suburbs and into the hills was a small isolated town where the sunlight hit its next house. In that house contained a not-so-human girl that once saved the planet: (Y/n) (L/n), the teenage deity.

As the sunlight warmed her (S/C) skin, (Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open. She raised up on her bed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, then put on a bright smile. 'Hate getting up this early, but it's going to be worth it!' she thought, then jumped out of bed.

"First I have to drop off the cupcakes at the Powerpuff Girls' formal..." (Y/n) mumbled to herself as she got out her clothes from her closet. Once she put them on her bed, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand. With one push of a button, her phone came to life, and it displayed a message from five minutes ago.

Ben: Good morning, beautiful~

(Y/n) blushed and rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. Ever since the nineteen-year-old broke up with his girlfriend, Julie, he's been hitting on the superpowered woman. She hasn't really caught any feelings for him, but she thought his actions were cute! And she was sure Ben felt the same way. After giggling at the winky face sent after and replaying with a 'Morning, Tennyson', the nineteen-year-old put down her phone and put her attention on her necklace.

Her smile slowly diminished. Subconsciously, she made her fingers lift the glass cage and graze over the gems. The same gems that saved numerous lives countless times. The same gems that turned her into unstoppable beings. The same gems that couldn't save her father-

(Y/n) shook her head to get rid of an unpleasant memory. When her phone buzzed again, she forced her attention back to it. It was Ben again.

Ben: You know where to meet up, right? Do I need to send you directions?

(Y/n) snickered and began typing.

Me: I know where to go! We're meeting up at the Townsville Park.

Ben: Aaahn! Wrong!

Confusion was written on her face.

Ben: Haha, just kidding. Yeah, you're right.

Me: Oh my gosh, Ben... See you there.

(Y/n) smiled to herself as she headed towards the bathroom.

About fifteen minutes later, (Y/n) was staring at herself dressed up in her bathroom mirror. Her (H/L) (H/C) hair was in her favorite signature style, she wore her favorite (S/F/C) shirt with the same-colored leggings and a (F/C) skirt, and a pair of (F/C) boots. To put a finishing touch, (Y/n) walked back to her room and put on the necklace. Instantly, energy surged through her body, and (Y/n) took in a deep breath as her powers settled in. Seconds later, a (F/C) light swirled around her irises before settling inside them, and her eyes returned to their (E/C) color. A confident smile was placed on her lips, and she headed downstairs.

"Okay, green hockey cupcakes, puck fudge, chocolate chess queen cake, sugar cat cookies, blueberry puppy cake, strawberry pie in the shape of a book...Jeez, what was their theme again?" (Y/n) said as she set the containers of each dessert on the kitchen islands. She remembered when she agreed to do some of the baking for the Pokey Oats University formal to get some stress off of the girls' backs, but had forgotten again.

Then it hit her: the deal was that Blossom, the head of the Honors Society, was originally going to host the event. However, since Buttercup and Bubbles thought it was unfair for Blossom to take the lead, the entire Powerpuff Girl Trio decided to do a theme of their interests. Buttercup represented the sports teams, Bubbles represented the local Townsville animal shelter she volunteered at, and Blossom represented the intelligence of the University.

(Y/n) giggled to herself. "Those girls can never agree on one thing, huh? Now how am I going to carry these all the way to the University?" Her hand held her chin, and after a moment of thinking, an idea popped into her mind.

Her finger touched the gem to the far left of her necklace, and a (F/C) light surrounded her. (Y/n)'s original eye color turned back into (F/C) as (Y/n)'s body was lifted off the ground. Her hair extended to her feet as strands of (H/C) hair transformed into (S/F/C) colored ones, and it went back into her (but flashier) signature style. Her (F/C) skirt and (S/F/C) fused into a (F/C) dress with tiny (S/F/C) gems covering the bottom. (Y/n)'s necklace floated from her neck and onto the top of her head, forming a light (F/C) glowing halo. Finally, (F/C) wings sprouted from her back, and the light around her disappeared as she floated gracefully back onto the ground.

(Y/n) smirked. 'Angel Form. A little over the top for bringing sweets to a college, but hey, why not?' She held up her hands and an (F/C) glow outlined them. At the same time, another (F/C) glow outlined the sweets and they floated up in the air. "Alright, let's get going," (Y/n) said.

She exited the front door and locked it behind her. With the desserts floating by her side, (Y/n) pushed herself up in the air and soared into the cloudless sky. 'Besides, I might run into some trouble while I'm out. It would be nice to get a little work out in the morning!'

It was a perfect day in the heart of CN City. Humans and creatures of all kind roamed the streets as they went along with the day. Up in the sky, (Y/n) smiled down at the serene town. A couple people looked up and waved at the demi-goddess, which she returned. Once (Y/n) flew past the heart of the city, she saw the university up ahead, and she knew she was in Townsville at that point.

The college grew larger in her view. She swung around the building and saw a separate one at the back. Her wings hung straight beside her, and (Y/n) slowly landed in front of the smaller building. Her feet gracefully touched the ground, and she walked through the opened doors.

Immediately, she saw the honors society president in the middle of the gym. "Stephanie, go ahead and put the banner above the stage. Hannah, go check on Brian and Rosie to see if they got the balloons ready," Blossom ordered. (Y/n) grinned and approached her. "Hey, Red," she greeted.

Blossom tensed up and turned to her with a pink tint on her cheeks. When she knew it was her friend, she immediately relaxed, but the pink tint didn't go away. "I told you not to call me that," she said, smiling. "Would you rather want me to call you Shortcake?" (Y/n) responded. Blossom's blush went deeper as she pouted and said, "Nevermind... Hey guys! Come get the desserts and store them in the refrigerators in the back, please."

(Y/n) waved at the cakes, and they floated and rested into a couple of the students' arms. "Everything looks amazing, Blossom!" she complimented, observing the decorated gymnasium. "Thanks! We still have a few things to do, but the place should be ready for tomorrow night," Blossom informed. "Did you have to go in Angel Form just for this?"

"No, but it was the first thing that came to mind." (Y/n) held onto her halo. After a small flash surrounded her body, she was back to her human self. "Hey, thanks, (Y/n). The desserts look awesome," Blossom said, her pink eyes softening.

"No problem, Red," (Y/n) said. "I know how you are when you're stressed." The girls laughed.

"So how are you and Dexter doing?" (Y/n) asked.

Blossom's smile faltered. "Uh, fine!"

(Y/n)'s smile faded completely as she raised an eyebrow. "I can tell something's wrong," she said. She knew that the nineteen-year-olds didn't really have a chance to interact as a couple much lately, but something else was off.

Blossom's eyes widened and she held up her hands. "N-No! Everything's cool!" she laughed. (Y/n) looked at her suspiciously and was about to press her again until a high voice called her name.

"(Y/n)!!" Bubbles yelled, hugging the woman from behind. "AH! H-Hi, Bubbles," (Y/n) giggled, turning around to wrap her arms around the Pokey Oats cheer captain. She opened her blue eyes and gave her the kindest smile she's ever seen. "Did you bring them yet?!" she asked, bouncing. The purple octopus in her arms stared at (Y/n) with an empty smile.

"Yep! Just like you asked," (Y/n) responded, pointing to the students who were hurrying to the back of the gym once they saw Bubbles. She squealed and ran over to them. "Ah! Bubbles, don't eat them yet!" Blossom scolded as she ran after her sister. (Y/n) laughed at her trying to hold her sister down, but as soon as she felt an unknown presence fly past her, her laughing ceased.

She turned around, but all she saw were students carrying party objects and decorating the gym. "Hmm..." she mumbled, and her eyes widened when she sensed someone speeding right towards her. In the nick of time, (Y/n) ducked, and she only felt fabric just barely graze the back of her neck.

Crash!

(Y/n) stood up and almost put her hand on her necklace until she saw Buttercup rubbing her head and growling. At that moment, (Y/n) relaxed and smirked. "Hey, Buttercup," she said. The leader of the Pokey Oats hockey team looked up and scowled.

"Don't look at me like that! The only reason you were able to dodge me was because of your stupid necklace," she snapped. (Y/n) looked down to see that one of the gems on her necklace was glowing. "Fair point," she said, snickering. Though, when she saw a red gash on Buttercup's forehead, her stomach dropped.

"Oh my gosh!" (Y/n) said, running up to her. "Here." She kneeled down in front of her, and one of her hands held onto one of the gems while the other one hovered over her wound. "Hey, what're you-?" Buttercup started, but was cut off by (Y/n)'s hand glowing (F/C). The wound was then covered with an (F/C) coating and it closed up within a matter of seconds.

(Y/N) grinned in relief. "You're so reckless," she acknowledged. A deep red hue covered Buttercup's pale cheeks, and she pouted while averting her green eyes. "Buttercup! What did I say about speeding inside the gym?" Blossom exclaimed. Her sister huffed as she got up and stomped off.

"I'm so sorry about her, (Y/n). Ever since the hockey team has been threatened to shut down, she's been a little on edge," Blossom apologized. "It's no problem, really! I can take her," (Y/n) assured. Bubbles walked up to the duo while staring at Buttercup. "What's the deal with you guys anyway?" the blonde asked.

"Buttercup wants to 'take me down', as she said in her own words. She thinks if she beats me, she'll be one of the strongest people on Earth, or something like that. I'm suprised she hasn't told you," (Y/n) explained. The two sisters exchanged confused glances.

"THE STRONGEST!" Buttercup shouted, turning back to the trio. The girls laughed until (Y/n)'s phone buzzed. "What's wrong?" Blossom questioned. (Y/n) pulled out her phone from her pocket and saw that it was a reminder to meet with Dexter. "Crap! I forgot I had to meet Dexter at his lab. Sorry girls, I have to go."

Bubbles whined as Blossom looked away with dejection in her eyes. (Y/n)'s eyes softened when they landed on her, and she put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll tell him you miss him," she reassured. Blossom smiled wearily, but her eyes still held sorrow.

"And I'll miss you!" Bubbles whimpered, wrapping her arms around (Y/n) again. She smiled and ruffled her blonde hair. "I'll be back for the formal, silly," she said. Bubbles looked up at her and smiled, then flew off from the ground and to the stage. (Y/n) examined the area and saw a scowling Buttercup leaning against the wall.

"Can't wait to see your outfit for tomorrow night," she commented. She whirled her head towards her and glared. "I'm not wearing a dress if that's what you're thinking!" she claimed, then zoomed off.

(Y/n) laughed to herself and turned to Blossom. "Later, Red," she said, and after receiving a wave, she exited the gym.

'Good thing the college isn't too far from Tech Square,' (Y/n) thought as she walked through the bustling city. Flying cars soared through the sky while colossal buildings towered the area. (Y/n) breathed in the clean urban air (thanks to a large air purifier that Dexter built a while ago), and a calming breeze flowed through her (H/L) hair. Apart from the blood-red factory building that was coming up in view, the city was as calm as ever.

Soon, (Y/n) was in front of DexLabs. Its blue and white structure overlooked (Y/n)'s the small figure but in a comforting way. The teenager smiled as she thought of the times when the building used to be a normal house, and she and her friends would come to sleepover and look at all the inventions Dexter has made. However, thanks to them growing up, and the growing success of DexLabs, those times turned into distant memories.

Those memories soon turned into reminders of Dexter's sister, Dee Dee. (Y/n) giggling at the times where she would constantly break his inventions, and while he was harshly scolding his sister, the younger version of (Y/n) would be laughing in the background. She remembered the day where Dee Dee had to go off to college, which was on the other side of CN City. She remembered how Dexter constantly asked her, Ben, and the PPG to come over so he wouldn't be lonely, even if he refused to admit it. She remembered how even after all that, Dexter became more reclusive and buried himself in his work instead of talking to any of his friends.

Her smile faded. 'I'm glad that he asked me to come in today. I hope he isn't too overwhelmed with all this work,' (Y/n) thought, walking up to the glass door. She observed the many robots swarming around the place. The only thing that made her worried was that no human employees were around anywhere. 'He's getting so used to artificial life. I hope he takes a break from work and works on his human relationships.'

Before (Y/n) walked into the building, she turned to the factory that was across Dexlabs. She held in the urge to roll her eyes at the dramatic scene: Rain clouds producing lighting, the glowing 'menacing' red lava mixed with the black paint, and the depressing background it was put in. (Y/n) stuck her tongue out at the place and went inside Dexlabs, secretly wondering what the factories' CEO was doing. 'Probably fawning over his Dee Dee shrine again.'

"Greetings, (Y/n)." That robotic voice made (Y/n) jump and spin around. She laughed nervously at the sight of Computress, Dexter's assistant, staring at her with blank green eyes. "H-Hello, Computress," (Y/n) greeted.

"It is nice to see you again," Computress started, smiling. "Dexter has requested your presence."

"I'm aware of that," (Y/n) politely informed. "Do you know where he is?"

"He is on level thirty. He will be delighted to see you."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. He has been thrilled while waiting for your particular visit."

(Y/N) beamed. "Thank you, Computress." The robotic assistant nodded and walked off. (Y/n) turned and headed towards the elevator at the end of the main room.

She stepped in and pressed one of the buttons for level thirty. As the doors closed and the elevator lifted (Y/n) took a deep breath. 'When I see him, I'm going to give him a hug so bone-crushing so he'll feel how much I've missed him,' she planned. 'Then I'll beg him to come outside. Then I'll just drag him to the dreaded sunlight.'

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. (Y/n)'s eyes widened at the sight of millions of machines stacked upon each other. The lights on the ceiling were mostly covered by the complex inventions, so any light barely made its way into the room. (Y/n)'s eyes narrowed angrily. 'He's been working like this for the past few months?! Ugh, I'm totally taking him home with me. He can't live like this.'

(Y/n) traveled through the piles of impossibly possible machines. In the distance, she could see a bright light in the middle of the dull room, and she sped up. Walking around another stack, her eyes lit up when she saw the sight of her genius friend sitting at a desk piled with numerous amounts of papers.

(Y/n) internally squealed, but instead of running up to Dexter and tackling him with a hug, she tiptoed her way up to him. On the way, she heard him mumbling something about new inventions and deadlines, and her happiness died a little inside. She stopped right behind him and leaned into his ear, thankful that he didn't notice her yet. "Hey, Einstein," she whispered.

"GAH!" Dexter jumped up from his seat and pulled a weapon out of his lab coat, then aimed it at (Y/n). She didn't faze and only smirked deviously, watching as he caught his breath and took in who scared him. Slowly, he put the weapon down as his blue eyes softened, and he grinned at her.

"Normally, I would have blasted your head off for doing such a malevolent act, but since I have not seen you in a while, I'll make an exception," he explained in his famous accent. (Y/n) giggled and embraced Dexter in that bone-crushing hug she planned for him. His small grin transformed into a wide smile as he wrapped his arms around her. A comforting silence was hanging in the air while they secretly recalled pleasant memories.

(Y/n) tried to pull herself out of the hug, but the redhead's grip kept her in his embrace. "You missed me that much, dude?" she chuckled. He opened his eyes and quickly let go of her, blushing. "U-Uh! Don't get the wrong idea!" he shouted. (Y/n) laughed and ruffled his hair, but stopped when she got a good look at his face.

Dark bags were under his eyes and the light blue in his eyes had almost turned grey. A couple of scratches covered his cheeks while a crack sat in the corner of the left lens of his glasses, and his lab coat was covered in dirt. Her eyes narrowed and Dexter noticed. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"You," she said, and Dexter flinched, looking offended. "Have you been getting any sleep lately?" she asked.

"Um, well..." he dragged on, and her eyes glared daggers into his soul. "Look, I'm sorry if my appearance worries you, (Y/n), but deadlines have been piling up on me," he explained, sitting back down at his desk.

"Why don't you get Computress and your robot workers to help you with all this?" she said.

"They do, but there are countless inventions that still need to be worked on. And those inventions are to be handled by me. No other robot or person can handle that job."

(Y/n)'s eyes softened, and she approached him and wrapped her arms around him while putting her head on his shoulder. "I'm worried about you, Dexter," she confessed.

Dexter tensed, and she could have seorn she saw his cheeks heat up. "(Y/n), I wanted this. The world needs me, and if this state and dependence on coffee is my price for it, then so be it." He yawned at the end of his sentence.

(Y/N) sighed and turned Dexter around so he could face her. Her hands gripped onto his shoulders as she explained, "The world also needs you to be healthy. Sooner or later, you're going to collapse if you keep this up." Dexter frowned, averting his eyes from hers. (Y/n) wanted to smack him, but she held in the urges and gave him a smile. "Come on, a small break wouldn't hurt. You said you had a surprise for me, didn't you?"

Dexter's eyes lit up. "Oh, of course! Follow me." The scientist got up and led the teenager to the other side of his lab. (Y/n) beamed with happiness and caught up with him. "I've been feeling guilty about missing your last birthday..." Dexter started.

(Y/n) patted his back. "Worry about yourself first, dummy." Dexter let out a weak chuckle. "I will get to that. But I wanted to make up for it." As he finished, they approached a giant tube with (F/C) liquid inside of it. (Y/n)'s eyes glimmered with curiosity, and she gazed back at Dexter, who had a light pink tint dusted on his pale cheeks along with a shy smile. He went up to the tube and pressed the big red button beside it. A small hole opened at the bottom and sucked the liquid out, leaving a floating ring with an (F/C) gem that shined brighter than any star (Y/n) has ever seen.

"Woah..." she uttered. Dexter observed her face as if he was trying to gain as much pride as he could. "I have noticed that you have a fondness for jewelry, so I decided to craft a small gift using platinum that little gem you like."

She was about to approach the machine until Dexter predicted her actions. He gently put the ring in his gloved hand and proceeded towards (Y/n). She gasped softly when he carefully grabbed her hand and held it up to put the ring on her ring finger. At that point, (Y/n)'s (S/C) cheeks were the same color as Dexter's hair. She wanted to suppress her fluttering heart, but her feelings were too strong to be put down. She looked into his eyes; they were exhausted, but still held warmth. His lips were the same. "There's one more thing," he said. With her hand still in his palm, he pressed the gem, and it flipped up to reveal a picture of her and him alone together with happiness on their younger faces.

Tears pricked her eyes and (Y/n) used her other hand to cover her mouth. "Dexter..." she managed to say after a few moments. "This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done to me. Thank you so much." She lightly pulled her hand away and held it in her chest, looking away.

Dexter's smile dissolved. "Something's wrong, isn't there?" he predicted. (Y/n)'s turned back towards him. "No, I-...I just thought..." Her fluttering heart started to crack. "I just thought this would be something you'd do for Blossom..."

The redhead's hand went by his side. The warmth in his eyes transformed back into dullness while a frown held onto his lips. "We broke up," he admitted.

(Y/n)'s eyes widened with shock. "What? When? What happened?" She started following him when he began walking back to his desk.

"A few weeks ago. It started out fine until we began fighting. Then there were the silent treatments and the making-ups, and back to fighting...It got out of hand, and that was when we stopped talking to each other entirely." He came to a halt at his desk with his back facing her. (Y/n) stopped and held a saddened look in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, deciding whether or not to hug him again. Though, when he turned around, he made the decision for her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Don't apologize. I believe we have made the right decision. We don't love each other like we used to," he mumbled in her ear. (Y/n) put her arms around his waist. "You guys are still friends, though, right?"

Dexter pulled away and smiled. "Of course." The two pulled away slightly but didn't break apart. Dexter looked as if he wanted to say something else, which sparked (Y/n)'s interest. "Something's wrong, isn't there?" she repeated what he said earlier, smirking. This time, Dexter didn't laugh. (Y/n) put a hand on his strangely warm cheek and brought his attention over to her.

"You can tell me." He was hypnotized by her stare for a moment before he shut his eyes tightly. "(Y-Y/n), I r-"

"Dexter."

The duo yelped and whirled around to see Computress. "Computress, I'm the middle of something!" Dexter barked. "You are required to attend a meeting in fifteen minutes," she continued. Dexter glanced at (Y/n) before turning back to his robot assistant.

"Whatever happened to you attending the meetings for me?" he inquired. "Professor Utonium wishes to meet you in person."

Dexter fell silent. "Professeor Utonium?" (Y/n) asked. "I work with him," Dexter responded. (Y/n) felt her shoulders slump, but she remembered her meeting with Ben. She walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"We can finish talking later. I'm sure this is important, and you need to shower. Seriously."

Dexter snickered. "I'll see you later, (Y/n)," he said, turning to her. (Y/n) responded with a "Bye Dexter," and walked out of the lab, hearing a defeated sigh behind her.

"AHH!"

As soon as (Y/n) entered the Townsville park, people were running past her with fear on their faces. "What the heck?" she mumbled, then ran deeper into the park. When she set foot in the heart of the small forest, she stopped once her eyes laid on Ben in his human form in front of a giant green monster.

Its slime dripped on his green jacket, but Ben was too focused on hitting his Omnitrix. (Y/n) heart pounded in panic. "Ben! What are you doing?!" (Y/n) yelled. "My Omnitrix! I-It's not working!" he shouted. The slime monster continued to emerge from the trees, its red eyes glaring down at him. (Y/n) could see the trees sticking to the monster.

'I gotta help him!' (Y/n) declared. She gripped onto her necklace and felt herself float off the ground. With (F/C) light taking over her body, her normal outfit transformed into a tight (F/C) jumpsuit with (S/F/C) colored streaks down her thighs and across her chest. Her body disappeared, and her invisible self flew right into the monster. 'Ew...' she thought but kept her composure. Once she was in the middle of its body, she held her breath and held onto her necklace again.

The light covered her once more, and she felt her ears turning pointier while feeling her clothes becoming looser. With her hair transforming into a long thin braid, her eyes glowed their signature color. (Y/n) held up her hands and quickly created a forcefield around the smaller version of her body, and she enlarged that shield to blow up the monster to bits.

Free from the inside of the monster, (Y/n) breathed in the fresh air and gently floated back onto the ground. She opened her eyes and grimaced at the sight of slime all over her simple (F/C) dress. Ben held a dumbfounded face the whole time, but when her glowing eyes spotted him, he gave her a charming grin. "Did I ever tell you looked incredibly cute in your elf form?" he asked playfully.

(Y/n) scoffed. "Tennyson. Nice to see you and your..." She hesitated when she focused on his superpowered watch. "...malfunctioning Omnitrix." The grin Ben held turned into a frown once he laid eyes on his weapon. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Something's been going on with my Omnitrix lately. I haven't been able to summon any alien forms. It's like its energy is just...gone."

Just when (Y/n) was about to respond, two of her other friends came running towards them. "Sorry we're late," Gwen said, catching her breath. Kevin approached Ben and looked over his shoulder. "So your Omnitrix isn't working, huh?" he said.

Ben turned to him and shook his head.

"Have you tried turning it off and turning it back on?" he asked. They all looked at him as if he just said that superpowers were a myth. "...(Y/N), can you please help us?" Gwen asked.

"What do you need help with?" (Y/N) responded.

"We need you to tap into Ben's Omnitrix to see what's going on."

(Y/n) gasped softly. "What? I-I mean, I could, but what about you, Gwen? Can't you use your spellbook to do that?"

Gwen sighed and took the purple and gold spellbook out of her backpack. She lightly grazed her fingertips and said, "I can't." (Y/n)'s eyes widened. "What? What happened?"

"I don't know! My magic has been weakening for the past couple of weeks, and now I can hardly do anything. A lot of my spells have been unsuccessful, including the ability to magically communicate. And it's not only us. We've heard that most of the imaginary friends back at Foster's home came down with a mysterious illness." She put the book back in her bag and approached (Y/n). "(Y/n), please. If your magic hasn't been affected like this, we need your help."

(Y/n) hesitated, but comforted her friends with a smile. "Why should I refuse? I'm more than happy to help."

Gwen let out a sigh of relief. "What about you, Kevin?" (Y/n) asked, turning to the dark brunet. "Have your powers been weird lately?"

"I can still turn into any object I touch, but it seems to be getting more difficult."

"Hmm..." (Y/n) walked up to Ben and touched the Omnitrix with her fingertips. She took in the silence around as she breathed in, letting all of her thoughts and emotions melt away. She tilted her head back, feeling her braid flow in the wind, and took in one last deep breath before her vision turned white.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHH!!!

"GAH!" (Y/n) yelled, jumping back. The others flinched as the girl caught her breath. Her heart raced inside of her as if it was about to burst out of her chest. Her face was covered in sweat, and her hand quickly held onto her necklace to turn back into human form.

"(Y/n)! Are you okay?" Ben said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I..." (Y/n) started. "I saw static..."

The trio went silent before Gwen spoke up. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean I saw literal static. And there was screaming too..." Ben's face was covered in horror. "Ben, who did you fight before your Omnitrix became like this?" (Y/n) asked, looking up at him.

"Nobody. This monster was the only enemy I saw within the past few weeks." Gwen and Kevin looked around at the leftover green slime as if they had just noticed they were there.

Once (Y/n) retreated back to her original form, she spotted a familiar symbol on the ground. A giant red M with little black spikes on the side reminded her of an annoying brat accompanied by a weirdly hypnotizing laugh. "Mandark..." she mumbled.

"Maybe he has something to do with this," Gwen guessed, narrowing her green eyes. "Then let's get this prick and earn some answers!" Kevin declared, then ran towards the direction of Tech Square. "I'll check in with Nigel and Jack to see if they're alright, and see if Jack knows anything too. I'll head over to Foster's Home too. That's probably why they needed me..." (Y/n) said, mumbling the last part.

Gwen nodded and headed after Kevin. Ben started to run after them but turned back to (Y/n). "Hey, (Y/n)?" he said. She turned around and saw him with a bashful grin. "Thanks for the information. Maybe we should-"

"Ben!" Gwen grabbed his wrist and forcefully pulled him in her direction. "Not now!" she yelled, and they disappeared behind the trees. (Y/n) tilted her head in confusion, but shrugged it off and headed towards the Numbuh One's house.

"Nigel!" (Y/n) yelled as she ran up to the treehouse. She knew that she didn't have time, but memories of her and the KND flashed in her mind.

The sleepovers with the smell of hot chocolate and junk food. The presentations of weird but fun weapons to use against despicable adults. The immature nonstop laughter from when they teased Numbuh Four for liking a girl. (Y/n) was friends with the KND, so much so that they were like the siblings she never had. These memories made the worry within her fade.

But as she rang the doorbell to Nigel Uno's house, she recalled another memory. It was Nigel the week before his thirteenth birthday. He was raging towards the other kids about how he didn't want to grow up and leave the KND. Numbuh Three hundred sixty-two and a couple of other kids were trying to calm him down, but it only intensified his frustration. (Y/n) heard it all from Numbuh five. When she went to visit him afterward, it was the first time she ever saw him crying.

The rest of his team had their memories wiped willingly. Some broke down, but they did it together. After that, they were just regular teenagers. (Y/n) had to get to know them all over again.

At the time he was finally thirteen and was about to get his memory wiped, he gave into the memory. However, when (Y/N) came to visit him again, he told her his entire plan of going with the Teens Next Door. Ever since then, he's been going on secret missions by himself trying to get his friends back.

"(Y/n)?" Nigel Uno asked while waving a hand in her face, snapping (Y/n) out of her trance. "Ah! Hey Nigel!" (Y/n) yelled, trying to seem cool by leaning her arm against the doorframe.

Her friend's grin was filled with chaff. "So I'm guessing you didn't hear a word I said."

Her cool composure disappeared. "Uh..." she trailed off with an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. Nigel chuckled and gently held onto her hand. "Come on. I need to show you something," he said, pulling her into his house.

"The T.N.D. and I have been getting recent reports of strange occurrences around the city," he informed as they got to his backyard and into the treehouse.

"And these reports were...?" (Y/n) asked, trying to ignore the dull emptiness of the treehouse. It was upsetting without the rest of Nigel's team with him: The studious Numbuh Two, the high-spirited Numbuh Three, the courageous Numbuh Four, and the feisty Numbuh Five. They were still there, but at the same time, they weren't.

"Any sort of technology has been malfunctioning. When it was fixed, they were only able to work for a certain amount of time. It seems that the less advanced it is, the more defective it will be." They approached a room with a large screen above a display of buttons.

"My computer has only had minor issues, but I managed to track the bigger problems." Nigel pushed up his sunglasses and pressed a few buttons, and presented before (Y/n) was a map with red and orange dots covering most of it.

"These dots represent the malfunctions. The orange ones represent the minor issues, and even over some people, who I assume have those magic powers. The red ones are a bit more interesting."

"What do you mean?" (Y/n) questioned.

"These reports have been saying that through static, there have been strange faces appearing and disappearing. All of them aren't clear, but some have said they've managed to see some sort of small monster with red eyes. A few people even said they've been hearing screaming too."

A feeling of dread took over (Y/n). "H-Holy..." she stuttered. The eighteen-year-old examined her reaction before he continued. "Just yesterday, orange dots appeared over Mandark Industries."

"Mandark? Then Dexter would be at risk too! And if that happens..."

"Then all our technology might collapse, and people who possess any sort of power will lose every ounce."

Nigel looked as if he wanted to point out something else, but he kept quiet. However, (Y/n) already knew what it was as she glanced down at her necklace with concern. "What could be causing this?" she wondered.

"We don't know, but whatever it is, we need some sort of protection against it. Have you ever experienced anything weird with your power within the past few weeks?"

(Y/n) looked down at her necklace again. She gazed deep into it and sensed for any imperfections, but it looked the same as ever. "No, my powers have been working just fine."

"Hmm...Okay, I need you to report this to Dexter. I already got the news about Ben and Foster's Home, so we'll need to keep an eye on them. I'm going to check in with the KND bases on other planets to see if they're still running fine."

"KND bases? But you aren't-"

"I know. Even so, I made a voice changer so my voice can sound like their new leader, Numbuh Three hundred sixty-three."

(Y/n) opened her mouth until she recalled the old supreme leader of the KND, Numbuh Three Hundred Sixty-Two, having her memory wiped a few months after Nigel. She began walking out of the room but was stopped by the former Numbuh One. "Hey, be careful out there, (Y/n). We don't know what to expect." She turned to him and gave him her famous confident expression.

"You know I'm always careful, chief." She winked at him, and he made a 'tch' sound accompanied by a smile. "No you're not," he said, snickering. (Y/n) giggled and walked out of the treehouse.

Once she reached the outside, that smile was wiped off of her face. She made the mistake of looking up at the sky when she saw something abnormal in the corner of her eye. When she did, her eyes went small at the sight of a small green dot.

(Y/n) shook her head and opened her eyes again. It was still there. She rubbed her eyes and looked back up. It was still there. (Y/n) felt the dread inside of her becoming bigger and bigger, and she soon found herself running towards Tech Square, unaware of one of the brightly glowing gems on her necklace. She didn't know what that green dot was, but her instincts told her that it was far from good.

"Ahem, Saturnbase? This is Numbuh three hundred sixty-three, come in, Saturnbase," Nigel said into the radio in a high pitched female voice. No reply. Sweat dripped down his face as he pressed another button.

"Jupitarbase? Is anybody there?". Nobody answered. "Plutobase! If anyone's there, please respond!" Silence.

Nigel stepped and watched the screen show three separate information boxes. All of them had the name of the KND bases, and what caused him to have a pang of distress was the name 'offline' under all of them. 'Something's not good...I need to warn them!'

He quickly ran out of the room, not caring about the consequences if he showed up to the KND moonbase. As he headed towards the underground where his old rocketship, the screens behind him turned to static. And within that static was a green blob begging for help.

#cartoons #fusionfall #wattpad #writing #ben 10 omniverse #powerpuff girls #fanfiction #dexter's laboratory #cartoon network #x reader

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