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ada-mike · 4 years ago

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The Truth Always Comes Out - Digimon (Davis/Yolei)

Hey, guys, long time no see. Hope you’re all doing well, all things considered. I decided to dust off this blog and post a little FanFiction for a change! Fancy that. Why FanFiction for a fairly rare pair in a children’s cartoon from twenty years ago? Good question. I was honestly inspired by the work of a truly amazing writer @tanyatakaishi and their incredible story Innocent Games, whose sequel is currently in progress and definitely worth the read whether you’re into Digimon or not (but you should be into Digimon, i mean seriously?) But yeah, drop by and give Innocent Games a read, drop a comment and a kudo too while you’re at it. This short story I’m posting myself is so inspired by Innocent Games, it’s pretty safe to call it a FanFiction of a FanFiction, doesn’t really fit into any canon, and is just something I had rattling around my head that I needed to bang out. Please give it a read and let me know your thoughts! Stay safe, ya’ll.

- Mike

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In hindsight, he really should have known better. Yolei had always possessed an inquisitive streak to put it lightly (whether or not the matter being investigated was her business was rarely a concern) and she was typically about as adept at snooping things out as Davis was poor at hiding them.

And really, on his laptop of all places?

Davis, along with the rest of their friends, had spent his fair share of time around – as well as inside of – computers, but regardless, they were still Yolei's domain through and through, her expertise. And as his father had once told him many years ago, during a family trip to the supermarket where Davis had denied, despite being caught, that he'd tried to shoplift a pack of gum down the front of his shorts: The truth always comes out.

His thoughts were scattered though as they stumbled through the front door and into the blackness of the dorm he shared with Ken. Yolei was strung over his back like a long-legged, lilac-haired knapsack – having mounted him during the elevator ride, laughing, the liquor in her belly turning her playful.

The haze of alcohol still hung heavy in Davis’s mind too, enough so that his legs wobbled dangerously as he carried her through the blackness to where he approximated the futon was.

“Is Ken here?” Her breath was warm in his hair and the heat climbed up his neck to settle in the tips of his ears.

“Nah,” He said. “He’s with his parents this weekend.”

“Perfect.” She purred.

Davis picked up the pace, stumbling over a pair of soccer cleats in the dark. He spun in a circle, pulling a fresh laugh from Yolei, before depositing them both on the sagging futon cushion. Yolei sat pinned behind him, a little squished, but regardless it was the perfect position to plant sloppy kisses on his exposed neck. Davis squirmed, his heart racing.

“It doesn’t smell in here, does it?” He asked.

“Only a little.”

“It’s the trash, I bet. I haven’t taken it out since Monday.” He moved to rise, but she pulled him back into her lap, near growling:

“Leave it.”

“Mmm,” He hummed. “You like the funk, huh? It sets the mood for you?”

“You’re about to ruin the mood if you don’t shut it.”

“Such a way with words, love.”

Love.

That word. It was enough to diffuse squabble that had been sparking.

Davis sunk back into her and she wrapped her arms around him, feeling up and down his chest, then down his gut. He seized one of her hands and brought it to his mouth, kissing her sharp knuckles, the pads of her fingers, her wrist. It was surprisingly tender for him.

And it drove her absolutely wild.

Her free hand had just wrapped around the buckle of his belt, when the door to the bedroom creaked open.

“Davish?”

They both flinched as tiny feet pounded on the floor, leapt, then thudded lightly on the futon by their side. Yolei reached and flicked on the lamp switch by her head.

“DemiVeemon!” Davis was grinning at the sight of his partner, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I thought you’d still be sleeping, buddy.”

“I had a dream that we were on a boat! I wanted to tell you about it!” The in-training Digimon clambered onto Yolei’s knee. “Yolei, your face is so red you look like a tomato!”

“It’s hot.” She explained. And it was, the compounding moments of passion followed by DemiVeemon’s interruption had them both sweating slightly.

“Where’s Poromon?” The Digimon asked, unperturbed. Fresh from his nap, he was ready to play.

“Um- He’s spending the night in the Digital World.” She dug her nails into Davis’s side, causing him to wince in pain, the soft touches suddenly gone. “I kind of thought you’d be there too.”

“Nope!” Chirped DemiVeemon. “But we could all go now!”

“Tomorrow, buddy.” Davis brushed his hands over DemiVeemon’s ears. Even if a trip to the Digital World could be fit into their agenda, the phantom feeling of Yolei's hands on him was fresh and that very likely meant that standing up anytime would be a bad move. “But hey, you know, I think I still have some Udon in the fridge from yesterday. Ya hungry?”

“Yes!”

As DemiVeemon scampered away, Davis sighed and lifted himself out from between Yolei’s legs so he could sit beside her.

“Sorry about that,” He settled his arms on her shoulders, leaning close. “But where were we?”

“Davis, no.” She pushed him back. “I told you that I was taking Poromon to the Digital World so we could be alone tonight. Why didn’t you do the same?”

“I was going to. I just – I dunno, felt bad about dumping him there.” Davis rubbed his nose. The alcohol's buzz was fading from him now, much too fast for his liking. “He’ll be in a food coma in twenty minutes though, I guarantee it. Then we can get back to -”

“Hold on,” Her eyes sharpened into knives behind her glasses “You think I dumped Poromon in the Digital World?”

“No, I-”

“I did not dump him,” She continued, shifting further away on the cushion as she sat up straighter. “He’s helping out in Primary Village. I’ll be there to pick him up again tomorrow.”

“I know!” Davis felt a fresh wave of heat roll up his ears, annoyed that she was picking apart his words tonight of all nights. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.”

“I have no reason to feel guilty.” She folded her arms and sank back, eyes settling on the kitchen where DemiVeemon’s ears were casting shadows up the wall from the light of the open refrigerator. “He’s fine, just – dammit, Davis.” A heavy sigh billowed her lips, then: “You and I just got back together, what? Three days ago? And between school and everything, you and I haven’t had time… We needed a night like this.”

It was true. This most recent “break” of theirs had been a rough one and longer than any previous up to now. Almost an entire two months had passed where they barely spoke a single word to each other, only interacting when strictly necessary for Digimon matters, or the occasional late-night message over their D-Terminals.

Davis slumped back too.

“Tonight was a good night.” He said lamely.

She just nodded.

They sat in silence for a minute as DemiVeemon finished rummaging for food. He eventually waddled past them back to Davis’s bedroom, a warm bowl nearly as big as he was balanced on his head. All dreams of boats forgotten for the time being. Whether or not he had heard the beginning of their spat, Davis wasn’t sure. Regardless, he now wished his partner had stayed to break some of the tension that hung heavy in the room.

What he really wanted was another drink.

What he needed to do was apologize.

Instead, he lurched forward, propping himself on one arm as he reached over Yolei. She opened her mouth, ready to rebuke him again, until he reached past her and snatched the clunky laptop that sat on the end table.

It was five pounds heavier and just as many years outdated for anything Yolei would have considered satisfactory, but Davis had got it for a good price in a resale shop and desperately needed a computer for school. He grunted as he settled back in his seat and flipped open the lid, determined to find a way to break the awkward silence.

“Can I – um, play some music?”

He was already scrolling through his rather extensive music library, not waiting for an answer, but Yolei nodded anyways.

“Just no dub-step, please for the love of God.”

He chuckled and something in her chest unwound. He eventually settled on something, and with a double-click the room was filed with smooth guitar and steady drums. They listened, Davis nodding his head in beat and Yolei watching him.

“The speakers on that thing are awful.”

“Yeah.”

The song transitioned, adding more varied guitar and aggressive vocals.

“I haven’t heard this one before.”

“Ken showed it to me.”

“It’s good.”

“Yeah.”

As the song started to fade, Davis reached, without looking, and rubbed a line up and down Yolei’s thigh. She unfolded her arms, but before she could move further towards him, he was lifting the laptop from his lap and moving it into her’s. He stood up.

“Gotta take a piss.” He muttered, trudging towards the bathroom, tripping over the same pair of cleats as he went.

Yolei watched him leave, long nails tapping on the plastic laptop chassis. After the bathroom door closed and she heard him emptying his bladder into the toilet through the thin wall, she sighed and began flicking through his music.

She had gotten a little too defensive earlier and she knew it.

The truth was, she did feel a little guilty for parting ways with her Digimon, even if it was only for a night. Despite the lack of crises in the Digital World needing their intervention, it sometimes felt like she was shirking responsibility by turning more attention to other aspects of her life.

But she was older. She was busy – they all were.

Breaking up with Davis a few months ago had been a mistake, a rash decision after a stupid fight.

Drawing a good night out by coming home with him and arguing tonight had been a mistake. The wounds from the breakup were still fairly fresh. They couldn’t exactly just pickup where they left off.

Hell, maybe getting back together had been the mistake.

She wasn’t even reading the list of songs anymore as she scrolled. Her ring finger tapped a little too quickly on the arrow keys and the music program locked up from overestimation. Grumbling, she tapped more—even though she knew better—and the window was suddenly minimized, and then she was confronted with the egregious mess of folders on Davis’s desktop.

What immediately caught her eye was the folder labeled ‘Sexy Sexy Sexy’, and with that, any thought of innocently returning Davis’s music library vanished up in smoke.

Eyebrow quirked, she clicked and opened the oddly-named folder without hesitation. Of course she knew that most every guy had that particular folder stashed away. Having it on the desktop was definitely bold though.

What she saw though almost made her guffaw, and she struggled to steel herself.

The folder contained pictures upon pictures of different styles of ramen, most likely purloined from some high-end bistro’s online menu, judging by the nearly indecent high quality and their tiny watermarks in the corner of each. Nearly every photo was accompanied with an adjacent text document, containing what Yolei astutely guessed were Davis’s attempts at parsing out the recipe by looks alone.

This ramen folder was probably more organized and cared for than the one he used for homework, and a quick visit back to the desktop and to a directory simply dubbed ‘hw’ confirmed this.

Yolei glanced at the bathroom door. Things inside had gone silent, but if history and the number of sliders he ate at the bar were reliable indicators, Davis would probably be preoccupied for a few more minutes. She had plenty of time.

Yolei cruised through the rest of his desktop in record time, finding nothing of note outside of a few folders containing game roms, a second folder of his own home-brewed ramen recipes, and much to her surprise: an alarming amount of digitized Shoujo manga, definitely pirated. She filed that away for teasing ammunition later.

Now, to find the really good stuff.

Her practiced fingers danced over the keyboard, running a shell command to search for recently accessed items. Buried in several sub-folders was one entry that caught her eye, a single folder with a timestamp indicating it was opened just an hour or so before he’d picked her up for their date earlier that evening.

The folder was named ‘yolei’.

A swirl of emotions flooded her as she opened the file with her namesake, and she found it was a dumping ground of yet more photographs.

Instead of gratuitous snapshots of food however, they all featured her.

Yolei immediately recognized a series of selfies she’d sent him herself – some as early as when they had first started their on-again/off-again relationship years ago. It had never occurred to her that Davis would be the type to save them anywhere but his phone. It was surprisingly sentimental of him.

An image of Davis lying in his bed, clicking through and lovingly studying a slideshow of her, sprung to mind and she felt a warm swell of affection for him. She had done something similar on occasion, when their respective university work had kept them apart for multiple days on end.

There were other styles of pictures too. As she scrolled further, she found photos they had taken together at her high school graduation ceremony, shots of them at a beach trip, and one from her recent birthday where he’d tried to wrestle her face into the cake. She couldn’t help but laugh quietly.

She came to a stop at one photo in particular, the image’s age betrayed by how grainy it’s quality was.

They couldn’t have been older than thirteen. Davis was round-faced and grinning in the middle, one arm slung over Ken to his left and the other over a mildly miffed Kari. T.K. stood on Kari’s other side (Yolei had forgotten about that silly hat he used to wear) and on the opposite edge stood Yolei herself, all spindly limbs and thick, round glasses—stained brilliant white from the flash of the camera.

Their Digimon partners stood huddled around their feet and Yolei felt a fresh pang when her eyes fell on Hawkmon.

She scrolled further, perhaps more quickly than necessary, but then came to a screeching halt.

“Bastard.” She hissed, an angry blush spreading across her cheeks.

“What?” Davis had somehow exited the bathroom and was halfway back to his seat. Yolei had been so engrossed in her recent discovery she hadn’t even heard him flush.

Without missing a beat, she twirled the laptop around and pointed the screen at him accusatory.

“What the hell is this?”

To his credit, Davis had learned since the gum smuggling attempt in his youth that it was best not to lie when he’d be caught.

“Oh,” His mouth formed a perfect O-shape. Now he was blushing too. “I can explain-”

“You better!” She rattled the laptop at him, the hinge wobbling dangerously. “I told you to delete these, Davis!”

It had been her one demand when they had broken up most recently. He had listed several himself, including the unconditional return of the multiple sweater-shirts she’d swiped from his dorm. She considered this a devastating blow, as they made the perfect sleeping shirts in her opinion. But to be fair, he actually needed them more than she did, his winter wardrobe being sparse as it was.

“I did delete them!” He shot back.

“Oh—that is so obviously not true.” She flipped the laptop back around so she could look at them again. The photos were definitely there, present and accounted for, completely not deleted. Her eyes were flashing as she glared back up at him. “Why did you keep these?!”

“Look, you specifically asked me to delete from my phone,” He explained. “And that’s what I did.”

“Oh, so you thought you could keep these on a technicality, huh?”

“We’re back together now so why does it matter?” He threw his hands in the air. “They’re not even that bad of pictures.”

“They’re disgusting.”

Davis chose not to argue with that. Certainly most of the photos could be construed as less-than appealing.

His laptop currently contained the only copies in existence of seventeen candid photos of Yolei, caught in various stages of sleep, sickness, and general foulness.

It had started as kind of sweet. On one of the nights she had slept over he’d woken first, and had snapped a quick picture of her face as she slept rather serenely, messy hair splayed over his pillow. When he’d showed her the picture later, he’d called her beautiful. She made a show of rolling her eyes, but smiled and blushed all the same.

For the second photo, he’d caught her while she was trying to subtly pick her nose.

It had kind of snowballed from there.

“Why were you even going through my laptop anyways?” He demanded in turn.

“I was looking for music.” Yolei turned her nose up matter-of-factly.

“In my pictures? Yeah, Right.”

“You’re missing the point.” She waved her hand as if his words were a fly buzzing by her ears. “This is a major breach of privacy.”

“Now that, you’re right about.” He stepped forward finally and reached for his laptop, but she pulled it to her chest.

“I mean my privacy, you jackass.”

“I took those, so they’re actually mine.”

“But they’re not pictures of you, are they?” She looked down, scrutinizing one of her in an unseemly, homemade guacamole facemask, filename: ‘she-hulk’. She had seen all these pictures before at one point or another, usually accompanied with some gentle ribbing at her expense, but seeing the collage now felt entirely different. “Davis, how could I ever trust you again? You promised me that you’d get rid of these.”

She was right of course, and that caused the words to sting all the more. Davis was near a hundred percent sober now, but his vision still blurred. Hot tears of shame, and a heaping dose of frustration, pricking his eyes. He fought and managed to keep his voice level, mostly:

“Yeah, well... how am I supposed to just go around like it’s nothing when you could be sniffing through my drawers every time I turn my back?”

She didn’t have an answer for that.

A half minute passed where neither said anything. The music from the laptop was still playing passively, shuffling through Davis’s library automatically and currently playing some upbeat video game OST Yolei didn’t recognize. Eventually he moved and sank down onto the futon with her again, a few inches of space between them, and both their eyes settled on the gallery of photos still on display on the glowing screen in Yolei’s arms.

Davis remembered telling his friends oh so recently that he and Yolei were back together. Tai and Izzy had exchanged a quick glance, a silent exchange of barely-contained, mild exasperation. He imaged them placing bets on how long he and Yolei would last this time and pictured money exchanging hands when he broke the news that they were surely once again parting ways-

“That was the most sick I’d ever been in my entire life.” Yolei muttered suddenly, indicating one of the pictures. “I literally thought I was dying.”

He chuckled despite himself.

“Your nose is so red there.”

“Yeah, the tissues from I-Mart were like sandpaper. They still are.”

“Red looks good on you though.” Their eyes met then, and Davis continued quickly, stammering slightly. “I mean, not many people can pull off crimson flight pants, but- um… you did.. for years.”

Her face had an unreadable quality to it, and it seemed as if she might respond with something, but then she turned away and began scrolling through his computer again. He noticed her eyes weren’t focused though and he didn’t have it in him to try and dissuade her from searching still. There was nothing else to find anyway.

“Why do you even have this folder?” She asked, eyes forward.

He debated with himself for a few seconds, then decided on the truth.

“I like… having photos. You know, of you.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “And when we broke up last time, and you told me to delete all those ugly pics of you, I did.” Yolei’s mouth opened to object, but he continued before she could interject. “I really did. I honestly just forgot that they were on my laptop with everything else too, and when I saw them later, I just… couldn’t get rid of them.” He stared at her profile, tracing with his eyes the lines of her cheek, the bump on her nose. “I really thought this last time was the real deal.”

“Me too.”

“Do you think we should break up again?”

“I don’t know.” Even though they weren’t quite touching, Yolei felt him stiffen by her side. She closed her eyes, and said her next words to the blackness of her eyelids. “I don’t want to.”

He breathed out, the air leaving him as if released from a balloon.

“God, me neither.”

She twisted on her seat, opening her eyes to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry for looking through your laptop. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay.” He responded quickly.

Yolei continued anyways.

“If I’m being honest too, I was looking to see what kind of porn you had saved on here.”

“What?” Davis balked. “Seriously? Why would you think I had… that stuff… on there? I don’t even…” He shook his head, the image of incredulity. “I don’t even watch that.” Yolei watched him steadily, a single brow raised. “What? I don’t!”

“Sure. We’ll talk about that some other time.” She was only half teasing.

The promise of ‘some other time’ bolstered his spirits quickly. He eyed his laptop in her hands, suddenly loathing the pathetic thing and how he’d used it to hide away the secret vestiges of what he had once thought would be all that remained of his and Yolei’s relationship. She had owned up to her transgressions.

What he needed to do was apologize.

Standing, he pulled the laptop from her slack grip before she could argue, and looking her dead in the eyes, gripped each half of the computer and snapped it in half along the hinge. The music died with a pitiful wheeze and splinters of plastic flew everywhere, a few bouncing off Yolei’s glasses to disappear into the fibers of the rug at her feet.

“Davis!”

“I shouldn’t have kept those pictures.” He discarded the broken halves of the computer, speaking passionately. “I want us to start over fresh, okay? I don’t want any dumb secrets or anything like that to cause any problems. I want you to trust me, because I trust you – I really do.” He swallowed hard. “I still love you, Yolei.”

Her eyes shone and laughter bubbled in her throat.

“But you computer-”

“I needed a new one anyways. You can help me pick one out!”

“Yeah, but,” She wiped her eyes clear. “What about all the other pictures? My graduation, the Digimon?”

“I still have those on my phone, no worries.”

“And your homework?”

“My homework?” It took a second for Davis’s brain to catch up. His eyes passed from one broken piece of the laptop to the other, then his hands rose to bury themselves in his hair. “Oh shit, shit. My mid-term paper is saved on there...”

Yolei wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry, but instead she reached out and pulled him to her. She gently unwound his fingers from his hair and twined them with hers. She kissed him and kept pulling until he was climbing onto the battered futon with her, then over her.

In the morning, she would take off the back panel of his broken computer and pull the hard drive. She’d help him recover his homework and maybe, just maybe, a couple of the more agreeable photos that she would allow him to keep.

For now though, he didn’t need any of the digital keepsakes. As far as either of them were concerned, any number of pictures paled in comparison to the real thing.

For now though, she held him close and breathed in his ear.

“I love you too.”

When DemiVeemon bounced back into the living area sometime later, he found the pair asleep and huddled under a blanket together on the futon. The small Digimon took in the mess on the floor, the couple’s mussed hair, their slow and steady breaths, chests rising as one. Of course, he had heard every word of their argument from Davis’s bedroom, but he was used to the ruckus by now and too preoccupied with his noodles to care. Anyways, no doubt there would be many such squabbles in the future for him to witness.

He decided to let them sleep for now and bounded to the kitchen in search of a mid-night snack. He would just have tell Davis about his dream some other time.

#digimon #davis motomiya #daisuke motomiya #yolei inoue #miyako inoue #daivis/yolei #daiyako #demiveemon #my fanfiction

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fanfic-me-up · 4 years ago

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Yoga with Bakugou Katsuki

Your weekly competition with archrival and secret crush, Bakugou Katsuki, takes a turn when you invite him to yoga class. Maybe your hope to become something more is not so one-sided after all?

Title: Winning in Downward Dog

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem!Reader

Warnings: Bakugou trying to be a flexible pretzel and failing 😂😂

Word Count: 2,696

a/n: This is basically a crack fic pls forgive me lol If you enjoy, pls like and reblog! 💖 You can request more here. Side note: For anyone wondering, this was originally posted on my first bnha blog, but that has since been deleted.

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

You’re currently pinned beneath Bakugou in the middle of a training exercise where you’re supposed to be on the SAME TEAM.

“Yield,” Bakugou says.

“Never,” you say.

It’s known in Class 1-A that you and Bakugou have a weekly competition where each of you pick a different activity to see who wins. This competition sometimes gets in the way of school. Most of the time you understood the concept of forgoing pride for the sake of education, but when it came to Bakugou fucking Katsuki you became equally hot-headed and stubborn.

Class 1-A groans in unison.

Midoriya raises his hand.

“Sensei, you’re going to erase their quirks, right?” He looks genuinely concerned.

“Ugh, I hope so! I don’t wanna be here all day. Again.” Mina complains.

You knee Bakugou, but he won’t budge. He smirks at your struggle.

“Tch. You have to do better than that, dumbass.”

He places more of his body weight so there’s no escape. You can’t help the flutter in your chest at the sudden closeness. He’s radiating pure heat and the faint aroma of caramel emanating off him does little to clear your head.

Yes. It’s true. You have a crush on the one person who’s more concerned with pinning you to the ground during a training exercise than pinning you down on his bed where you belong dammit!

“Can ya’ll wrap this up? Some of us have plans tonight!”

Of course Kaminari would interrupt your fantasy just when it gets to the good part.

“Chill, bro, the movie doesn’t start ‘til 7,” Kirishima says.

“Can I come?” Mineta asks.

“No.” The Bakusquad reply in unison.

You buck up against Bakugou. Your leg slips from his hold and you manage to wrap it around his waist, flipping him over. He grunts as his back hits the ground. You hear crackling, but before he can set off his quirk, you counterattack, leaving him with no opening.

Class 1-A collectively gasps as you pull an UNO reverse card. Cheers erupt from the girls at the same time the boys groan.

The class has an ongoing bet on who would win your competition at the end of the semester. Bakugou is ahead by one, but you might even the score today.

“You get ‘em girl!” Mina shouts.

“Awww dude way to let the boys down!” Kaminari shakes his head.

“Shut up, shitty hair!” Bakugou shouts.

He glares at the rest of the class, daring them to utter another word. They don’t. A couple minutes pass of Bakugou trying every which way to get out of your hold and you countering every one of his moves with ease.

“I could do this all day,” you say.

“Me too,” Bakugou spits, sparks erupt from his palm.

“I can’t,” Aizawa says, erasing both of your quirks.

Class 1-A groans in unison once again.

“Ugh! But Sensei it was finally getting interesting!” Kaminari says.

Yeah, just like my fantasy was getting interesting until you interrupted it! Hmph!

“Guess nobody wins this time,” Kirishima shrugs.

“Technically I won,” you say.

You gasp as you feel the wind get knocked out of you and suddenly you’re looking up at vermilion eyes.

“No, I win.” Bakugou smirks.

You can’t bring yourself to be upset as his hands grip your wrists. You’d lose a million times over if it meant Bakugou touching you.

“Say it.”

You cock your head, “Say what?”

“Say ‘I win’.”

“I win.”

Bakugou’s nose scrunches in frustration.

“That’s not what I- you know what I mean!”

Aizawa clears his throat.

Both of you turn to see Class 1-A hanging onto your every word like they’re watching the final battle in Avengers: Infinity War. Kaminari is munching on some popcorn, passing the bowl around to the rest of the class.

How did that boy even…? Nevermind.

It’s best for you not to think about the weirdness that is Class 1-A. It would only give you a headache.

“Nobody wins. You both failed the exercise,” Aizawa says, “And get up. You’re both making me uncomfortable.”

You and Bakugou make awkward eye contact before he gets off of you. You swear a tinge of red flushes his cheeks as he offers his hand for you to take, but you know he’s only offering it as a sign of respect. That doesn’t stop your hand from shaking as you reach out to take it. You mumble a quick ‘thanks’ and he responds with a soft ‘whatever’ as he helps you to your feet.

“Class dismissed,” Aizawa says. Mina and Kaminari whoop before racing to the dorms. Everyone else follows, leaving you and Bakugou trailing behind. You’re racking your brain trying to come up with something to say. You don’t want to let this opportunity of getting Bakugou alone go to waste.

C’mon, Y/N think of something… Oh! I can ask about the movie they’re watching tonight? No… he’ll think I wanna come along or something, which I do, but I don’t want him thinking I do!

Oh lord have mercy on me.

You’re about to fuck it and pull a ridiculous comment about the weather out of your ass when Bakugou speaks up.

“I won.”

You raise an eyebrow. He’s still on that?

“I did.”

“Why do you have such an obsession with winning?” There’s no malice in your tone. You just genuinely want to know.

“You wanna die!?” Bakugou puffs his chest, tiny sparks fizzling in his palms, ready to blast at any second.

You throw your hands up in surrender.

Please don’t kill me.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s great to strive to be the best. That’s why we’re all here. But we were on the same team today, Bakugou, and you still couldn’t handle the fact that I would be the one to lead our team to victory. Why?”

You’re just as competitive as the next U-A student trying to go pro, but even you knew when to quit, especially if it jeopardizes the team or the mission. Your quirk was just a better fit for this particular exercise and Bakugou knew that.

“I don’t need to listen to this bullshit, especially from a fucking extra.” Bakugou stomps off.

“Wait! Bakugou!”

You stop him by touching his arm; he jerks at the contact as if he’s been burned.

“Don’t touch me!”

You try to hide the hurt as you take your hand off his arm.

Of course he’d hate the idea of touching me in any way besides holding my hand to arm wrestle. Ugh! Why can’t I have a crush on literally anyone else!?

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“Whatever. What’s the challenge this week?” he grumbles, looking away from you.

You didn’t want to push any further and make Bakugou hate you even more. It’s sad to know you don’t have a chance with him which is why you look forward to these competitions. If this was the only way to spend time with him, then you’re gonna take it.

“Yoga tomorrow at 8.”

“Tch. Yoga? My grandma does yoga on her deathbed.”

“If you don’t show up, guess it means you forfeit and I win.”

You walk away knowing full well Bakugou won’t back down from a challenge. You hear him shout from across the way.

“Like hell I’d forfeit, loser!”

🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

You’re warming up before class when the doors swing open and in walks Bakugou with a permanent scowl etched on his face. The class regulars (who are all girls) huddle together whispering about the “hot new guy.”

Bakugou unfolds his mat next to yours.

“Oi, Y/L/N.”

You turn to him, “Morning to you too, Bakugou.”

“Get ready to die,” he smirks.

You roll your eyes at the dramatics.

“Please, I’m sure I can beat someone who yells ‘DIE GERMS’ every time he brushes his teeth.”

Bakugou’s teeth clench at the dig against his personal hygiene habits. You could see the vein on his forehead threatening to pop. Teasing Bakugou always brought a smile to your face. He was just so cute when he got riled up.

“You wanna go, shitty woman!?”

It’s too easy.

“Save that for the field,” you say before returning to your stretches, but you’re interrupted once again.

“Psst.”

You turn to the girl next to you.

“You know him?” She nods at Bakugou stretching with his earphones in. The scowl on his face reads “fuck off”.

“Yeah, why?”

“He’s hot.” The girl sighs in a daze.

I know, girl. Trust me, I know.

Every aspect of Bakugou’s body screams power. He trains harder than most and it shows. The long grueling hours spent going to the gym and honing his quirk have really paid off. From defined shoulders, to the lines of his six pack visible even underneath his shirt, all the way down to the powerful thighs that could crush you in an instant and you would happily thank them for it.

“I can hear you,” Bakugou snaps.

Shit.

Your heart skips a beat, afraid you pulled an Izuku with thinking out loud. Thankfully, he’s referring to the girl next to you who squeaks and returns to her stretches.

Phew… That was a close one.

You clear your throat.

“You better not get us kicked out of this class, too. I actually like yoga.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he smirks.

Bakugou got you both kicked out of the chess club when he went all ‘sparky sparky boom boom man’ on the chess board after you won. The president of the chess club cried. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Now, you both have to play chess in the dorms.

The class begins with simple stretches. You sneak a peek at Bakugou who looks oddly calm for once. You’re used to him either being angry or… being angry. There really was no in between for the boy. But right now, with his eyes closed, he looked almost at peace.

“I can do this in my sleep.”

And of course the moment is ruined the moment he opens his mouth.

“This is only the beginning, my friend,” you say.

Bakugou loses some of his vigor halfway through. He’s huffing and puffing as you go into an intense hip flexor stretch.

“You okay there, buddy?”

You’re sweating a bit by this point, but not as much as Bakugou who’s struggling to keep up.

“I’m fine,” he snaps.

The class goes into the splits. Your split is perfect, but Bakugou is still a little ways off the floor. He tries to subtly wipe the sweat beading down his forehead.

“You know yoga has a ton of amazing benefits. If you keep at it, you could knock someone out going into a downward dog.”

“Shut up,” he grunts. His knees buckle under the pressure of the new position.

“Y/N, can you assist our new student?” Your instructor asks.

The rest of the class turns to you and Bakugou.

“Oi! I don’t need any help, old hag!”

You grimace at his loud tone, a harsh opposition to the otherwise calming atmosphere.

“He doesn’t really mean that,” you try to cover for him.

“Yes, I do! Oi! Stop looking at me dumbass, yes, you over there-”

You muffle his screaming with your hand against his mouth. You place your other hand on his waist and guide him into the correct position. You can tell he’s holding his breath.

“Breathe. That’s it. Now tighten your core like this,” you whisper in his ear. Your hands glide down his stomach. His ears are beet red and he’s looking anywhere, but at you.

“Are you okay?”

“Tch. I’m fine. Now, get your hands off me, shitty woman.”

You sigh. Of course. Should I expect anything else at this point?

All the women bounce up to you at the end of class. They’re giggling and sneaking glances at Bakugou who’s rolling up his mat.

“Who is that?”

“Do you know him, Y/N?”

You’re taken aback. Since when were you on a first name basis with any of these girls? For the past three years you preferred to stay in the back of the class and leave once it ended. The women are a bit… much and they don’t pay much attention to you anyway, just the way you like it, so it’s startling when eager eyes are on you awaiting a response.

“Is he single?” Another girl asks.

I certainly hope so.

The group shushes each other as Bakugou walks up to you.

“Same time next week, loser?”

Next week is his turn to choose the competition. Does he really think he has a chance of getting his splits down in a week?

“You want to do yoga again?”

“Not for our competition, idiot.” The excitement radiating from the group of girls behind you only feeds your heart fluttering in your chest. You don’t want to get your hopes up, but Bakugou has never been interested in meeting up with you outside of class if it’s not for your competition.

You want to be sure of what he’s asking. You couldn’t bear the thought of believing this is leading to something more only for Bakugou to say it’s not.

“If not for our competition, then what for?”

Bakugou looks at you, his cheeks are flushed red and you know it’s not from the yoga anymore.

Holy shit, is this it? Is Bakugou fucking Katsuki actually asking me out? After we just spent the last hour in downward dog? Note to self: I’d like to give a shoutout to the yoga gods that made this possible. You the real ones.

You lean against the wall in an attempt to be casual, but it’s only because your legs are literally shaking from the excitement that Bakugou is asking you out.

Bakugou glances at the girls behind you murmuring between themselves.

“Tch. Forget it.” He grabs his bag and walks out.

Wait. What? No! Come back!

You hear the girls gossiping with each other, all of them excited that Bakugou’s becoming a yoga regular.

“He’s coming back next week!?”

“Ugh! He’s so freaking hot! I can’t even!”

“What should I wear!?”

You don’t pay them any attention as you run out the door in an attempt to salvage... whatever you have with Bakugou. It’s complicated, okay!?

“Bakugou!”

He doesn’t look back, but you know he heard you.

“Bakugou! Wait!”

“What!?” He snaps, but the blush on his cheeks give him away.

“I’m down for the same time next week.”

He crosses his arms and scowls.

“Are you deaf? I said forget it.”

“Oh.”

Bakugou sighs; his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in a gesture you’ve only seen a couple times from him.

Wait is Bakugou… nervous?

“I know I’m gonna pop off on one of those girls and I don’t want to get you kicked out. I know you like yoga for whatever goddamn reason…”

“What if we had a private yoga class?”

You’re fully prepared to be rejected. Your relationship was one of rivalry and competition, what you’re suggesting would be breaking into new territory, but you were tired of pining. It was better to know he doesn’t like you than to spend your time at U.A. wondering.

Bakugou doesn’t expect that question and you certainly don’t expect his response.

“I do need to practice my splits more.” He looks down at the ground, ashamed for admitting he needs practice. You can tell he doesn’t admit this to just anybody. Your heart skips a beat at the thought of Bakugou viewing you as more than just the extra he claims you are.

“I can help with that,” you say.

“Tch. I don’t need your help.”

You shrug, “Fine, don’t come crying to me when you break your hip. You’ll never be able to take someone down in downward dog.”

“I CAN TAKE ANYONE IN DOWNWARD DOG! JUST YOU WATCH, SHITTY WOMAN!”

You laugh as he childishly stomps off, gripping his palms tight to keep from exploding.

Way too easy.

Bakugou ended up taking Midoriya down in downward dog. Nobody saw it coming, but you. He thanked you with a movie date and a kiss at the end of the night. 😊

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki fluff #bnha x reader #mha #bnha fluff #katsuki bakugou fluff #fanfic-me-up #mha x reader

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years ago

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 11: Discharge Plan

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Dawson)

Summary: The highs of Shane and Sy’s first weekend as a couple are followed up by some big news from Sy, leading to our couple’s first fight.

Don’t miss a session! Click here to catch up on this story or explore my other works!

Word Count: 2.7

Warnings: Language, mature themes, smut, sort of unprotected sex, rough-ish sex, angst, alcohol consumption,

Author’s Note: First off, I wanna talk about the word “victuals.” I’ve loved this word for a long time, even though it makes no sense, phonetically as it actually rhymes with the “fiddles” or “riddles.”(It’s true, look it up!) It’s very pastoral and somewhat archaic, so you don’t hear it too much anymore in current writing about the present, but I just felt like Sy would say it. Secondly, it was really hard for me to put my darlings through the argument in this chapter. I want them to have only happy times…but that provides no tension or motivation for story development…and I want to keep writing them more than I want them to be happy… I guess I finally understand why authors torture their characters! Lol! It might take a bit of time for me to sort out what their relationship looks like adding the distance factor, but I have some ideas that might work. Also, it might be an opportunity to do a bit more of Sy’s perspective, which I thoroughly enjoy, and may go back and fill in some blanks for him in between chapters I’ve already done. I hope you all enjoy this installment of the Treatment of Captain Syverson! Feedback in any form is always appreciated!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags:

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@summersong69

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@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

The rest of the weekend was spent in blissful relaxation. Sy went to his place to feed Aika and bring her over at Shane's insistence. The dog had been slightly standoffish with her, but Sy assured her that it was in her nature to be aloof, and that she needed to be engaged or instructed to behave more doglike.

"It's her training. She's still a soldier. It's hard for us to shake those habits. Like me calling you 'ma'am' at first."

"She's another die hard. I respect that." she chuckled, scratching Aika behind her perked ears, and eliciting pants of contentment from her.

Sy's skills with a spatula were unmatched. That was to say, he made the best pancakes she'd ever had. They almost didn't need syrup…almost. They ordered an obscene amount of Chinese takeout which lasted them about three meals each. Sunday evening, though, which had a gloom to it no matter the circumstances, required some comfort food. They agreed on pasta, so Shane made up some of her famous alfredo sauce and probably twice the recommended portion of pasta for two humans to consume. There were no leftovers. Sy had three helpings, himself. Three heaping bowls of it. Shane couldn't handle more than one and a half servings, even though she wanted to gorge herself. She knew too much would make her ill.

When they weren't eating, the were cuddling on the couch, or in Shane's bed. They watched more Parks and Rec, and a few other films and shows that Sy requested, just to break things up. Their bodies were constantly wrapped in each other, leading to frequent bouts of making out, fooling around, and sex in almost every room of the house.

Her favorite had been the shower. She insisted on getting cleaned up, but Sy had objections.

~~~~~~~~

"I'll be less than ten minutes, come on, I reek! You can't wanna kiss me when I smell like this!" she said, trying to shut the bathroom door on the human mack truck before her. Broad and formidable.

"You smell like sex, and…me, darlin. I've never wanted to kiss you more," he said, backing her up toward the shower doors. "but I guess if you must. Lemme help, though." he pulled open the glass door, forcing her into his captivating kiss, and maneuvering her backward into the walk-in, stone tile shower. He pulled off her tank top, capturing her breasts in his hands and mouth for a moment before kneeling to remove her shorts and kiss her thighs. He pulled himself away too quickly and started the water flowing.

"Sy, you're fully dressed!" he was barefoot, but otherwise, in jeans and her favorite of his tees. The letters DILLIGAF across a skull, black on red. She always laughed on the inside when she saw it. Because although Sy often had to put on a calloused and brusque act when he'd been an officer in the Army, he was terribly soft and sweet when the occasion called for it. The irony being that although he didn't look like he gave a fuck, he actually did.

"I've got more clothes in the truck and you've got a dryer." he maneuvered her under the pulsing stream of the showerhead. "Gotta get you wet." he let the water run through her hair as he reached for her shampoo, a coconutty concoction that reminded her of summer, squeezed a bit into his hand, and lathered it up. He worked the suds into her wet hair gently, raking his nails across her scalp in a way that excited and ignited every atom in her. She sighed at his touch which made him groan with need.

He tilted her head back to rinse the lather out and reached for the conditioner. He was a bit more generous with it than strictly necessary, but she didn't protest. He pulled her hair forward in two sections, one over each shoulder and worked the emollient into the strands. His hands slick from the product, he ran them over her breasts and her abdomen and hips…between her legs. There her own arousal was primed to combine with the tropical unction. She gasped as he worked his fingers over her, slow at first, but speeding up, only to slow again. When she finally whimpered in frustration, he undid his jeans, and backed her up to the stony grey wall, not giving a fuck, as his shirt had suggested, that he and his clothes were getting soaked. His only care now apparently, was to satisfy the simpering cries of "yes, please." from Shane.

His first few thrusts were slow and measured, knowing that she was still adjusting to his size. But it didn't take long for him to lose control. She wasn't sure what was making him like this, but she was not complaining in the least. The texture of his jeans on her bare, wet thighs was a sensation she wouldn't soon forget. She gripped at him, holding onto his shirt for dear life as her climax built to impossible heights.

She was loving the way he lost himself in the ferocity of the act. And his release led to hers immediately. She wrapped herself around him in blissful embrace, and whispered his name as a prayer.

"Sorry, darlin,' I meant to…"

"It's okay. I'm on the pill and I'm not at a particularly dangerous time in my cycle."

He kissed her tenderly and reached for her bath puff and some body wash. "Well, let’s get ya cleaned up."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The only good part about Monday was that she'd be treating him. Although, he was scheduled in the afternoon. Her morning would drag on eternal.

He greeted her with a typical "hey, susnshine" and she led him into the gym, feeling his gaze on her ass, wanting, even though they'd just left each other quite satisfied that morning. He was freshly showered, beard well groomed, and his hair growing back in very nicely. He'd asked her weeks ago whether he should keep the buzzed look or not, and she had been entirely for growing it out. She wanted something to run her hands through. She'd be fine if it was at least shoulder length, but she wouldn't push that on him.

They did their normal warm up on the bikes, followed by some plyometric drills, which made him scowl at her in a way that lit her up like a firecracker. But the fact that he was able to jump up onto the box was encouraging. He couldn't have done that a month ago. He was progressing so well and was so close to his long term goals and discharge. It almost made Shane sad. It wasn't as though they wouldn't see each other, but having him break up the insanity of her day three times a week for just an hour was invaluable.

As they were doing their usual end of the session stretch in her treatment room, and she noted the improved range of motion he was getting, he broke the amiable silence with a question.

"Hey, can I bring a pizza or somethin' over for dinner tonight after you get off?"

"Sure!" she could tell there was something he wanted to say, but was holding back. She prodded. "Everything okay? You've been a bit…off today."

"I'm good. Just a little distracted." he deflected by touching her hip, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. She swatted him away.

"Not here, Sy."

"But that makes it fun!" he pouted.

"No, that really could get me fired! Getting frisky on company time!"

"Mmmm, I'd love to frisk you right now." he reached between their legs to try and grab her again, but she thwarted him and pinned his wrists at his ears.

"Cool it, cowboy, or your last two sessions are gonna make you wish you'd never met me." she threatened.

"Ain't nothin', nothin' on God's good green earth could make me wish that, sunshine." His stunning blue eyes softened her resolve and she let go, continuing to stretch him.

"Still…cool it." she grinned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She'd just had time to change into some comfy clothes, wash her face, and put her hair up when her doorbell rang.

Sy stood smiling under the porch light, a modern white knight, carrying a large pizza from Pizza Hut and a six pack of Miller High Life.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes! And it's nice to see you too, Sy!" she laughed, teasing him.

"Should I leave the victuals and go?" he asked, mock concern on his sarcastic brow.

"Get in here, soldier."

She got out napkins and paper plates because as horrible as it sounded, she just couldn't think about doing dishes tonight. She was even glad Sy had brought drinks in disposable or recyclable containers, and not wine, which she tended to prefer. She was exhausted, but not upset, which made the silence they ate in bearable. Sy still seemed to have something on his mind, though.

"Did you have something you wanted to talk about tonight, Sy?"

"Kinda, yeah, uh…it's kind of a big thing for me, and I know this is new, what we have, but…well, I'll just tell ya."

"Go on." she encouraged, worried.

"I…I talked to my old CO about jobs in the private sector. He referred me to a company that…well it's sort of an employment agency for vets. Mostly security for private companies and individuals. I had a phone interview with them this past Tuesday. I just got a call this morning that they want to meet me in person to finalize everything. Mostly a formality. When I go for that, I'll also have to stay there a couple of weeks to a month for training."

"Where is this…gig?" She said, flat affect hiding the feelings brewing under her skin.

"The offices are in Charlottesville…Virginia. And there may be some cross country training there in Shenandoah National Park."

"Cross country…by that do you mean survival training?" She was still cool, but getting more livid.

"You could call it that, I guess. But it won't be a challenge for me. I'm more worried about the technical stuff." His bravado and flippancy about the whole endeavor was enraging her. The thought that he'd be in the wilderness alone, was only a fraction of the big picture. He was going away for a month? And he had known about the job for a week now. A week in which so much about their relationship had changed, and shifted. How could he think she'd just accept this without a bit of raging.

"You waited until after we slept together to tell me this. You did it on purpose, Sy." that was the biggest problem, she thought. The fact that he seemed to be hiding it from her. It brought back old trauma that she thought he'd never have subjected her to.

"Yes and no, Shane. I wasn't intentionally keeping anything from you, I just didn't wanna bring it up until somebody bit."

"You wanted to keep me in the dark about something you were excited about? How do you think that makes me feel?"

"I didn't wanna get your hopes up or mine. Honestly."

"Saying 'honestly' doesn't make it honest, Sy. I've told you about everything that Elliott put me through. The lies. The secrets. This puts a bad taste in my mouth. You have to see that. Can't you?"

"Oh, sunshine, I--"

"No, please. Do not do that right now. Don't call me sunshine when all I can see is the night."

"I'm so sorry. My intention was not to make you feel in any way like that asshole ever did. Please hear me when I say that. I want to be the opposite of him in your mind in every way, darlin.' Please believe that."

There was so much sincerity in his voice, now nearing tearfulness that she felt he must be telling her the truth. She nodded. But was still apprehensive about the nature of the job and the training.

"But…what if you get hurt again?"

"I won't. You've all but fixed me, Shane. I'm stronger than ever."

"Can't you just…find a safe job? Here?" She was being selfish. She couldn't help it. Even though she knew she might regret it.

"Sit at a desk, ya mean? Deliver pizzas?" he indicated the box between them on the table. "Call people and ask them if they're happy with their cable services, Shane? Is that all I'm good for now?" he was angry.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"No, of course not. You're a PT. That's what you were meant to do, right? Well, imagine if you couldn't do that no more. Something or another, an injury, perhaps, or just plain ol' shitty situation, left you in a position where you couldn't go back. Couldn't do your dream job. Couldn't fulfill your purpose." he spat. "Wouldn't you do anything you could to be some shadow of what you were meant to be?"

She couldn't speak. Because he was right in so many ways.

"Because right now, I'm nothin'. I'm not doin' anyone any good. I'm a drain on my country, the one I swore to protect with my very life. It's like I've broken an oath. And it's fractured my soul."

"I see that. I truly do. But I need you here. You do ME good, Sy. I'm already half dreading d/c'ing you. I don't wanna have to say a goodbye, too." it was her truth. But it hit him very much sideways.

"So…what is it, Shane? You only want me when I'm broken? You only want me so you can fix me?"

"No, of course not! That's not what--"

"Am I a charity case to ya now? Is that why ya finally gave in and let me in your bed?"

"Sy, no!" she was crying now. It had hurt so much to think that he could have gotten that from what she'd said.

"I think if you can have feelings hurt about this situation then so can I."

He stood to leave, but she caught him by the wrist.

"Shane…you know I would never, ever harm you. But please… don't test my limits. Let… go." She did.

She was still quite a bit faster than him, so she ran ahead and blocked the door.

"Move." he insisted. She didn't.

"Hear me out, and then I'll let you go."

He crossed his arms and nodded, his gaze still one of cold steel.

"Sy, I didn't mean to make this job that you're clearly excited for into a source of anguish or to make it about me. I'm thrilled that you're going to get to do something you want in another field. I really am. I just…being with you has made me realize how good life can really be. And even if you'd told me before we slept together, I would have said the same thing. It was selfish of me to haul my baggage into the conversation when you aren't, have never been, and could never be Elliot. His best couldn't compare with your worst. And I will do my best in the future to think about who you are before I complain about the work you find to do."

"It's like I said about Aika before. She's a soldier. Hard trained. And so am I. It took a lot of hard work for me to get where I am, so much that it fundamentally altered who I am as a person. Now, in my opinion, those changes were for the better. I was kind of a shit before I became a soldier, thought the sun rose and set with me. I got some perspective and met some good people…lost some, too. Saw some shit I can't unsee. Some of it haunts me to this day, and I figure it always will. But I reckon if I can keep fighting the fight somehow. Keep protecting people in whatever way I can, my training and experience won't be a total waste."

"I understand and respect that, Sy. And I will back you in any way I can. I'll water your plants, I'll keep Aika whenever you're gone, I'm here for you."

"Oh, shit! I wasn't even thinking about having to leave my dog behind! Maybe this WON'T work!" he chuckled.

"Second fiddle to another woman already. I knew you were gonna break my heart, Captain Logan Syverson."

"Never intentionally, sunshine." he hugged her, tight, and with his whole body. Their argument in the past and their future an exciting mystery. Shane had never felt so safe and loved.

Up Next: Chapter 12: Final Home Exercise Program

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #sigh for sy #syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc

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lord-explosion-baku · 5 years ago

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Hero Santa

Sero x fem!reader

Warnings: yellow sour fruit, swearing

A/N: wow it’s been a long time that I’ve posted a oneshot. Sorry about that. My job keeps me busy and the fic I’m writing takes priority. This isn’t a request either so I’m ;;; this is entirely self-indulgent. I’ve just discovered a newfound love for mr. tape boy and wanted to write something about him. There’s a lot of cringey things in here. Like, secondhand emebarssment type things. But I just wanted to write something funny and wholesome, straying away from the incessant dubcon that litters my blog. If this makes you embarrassed then I think I’ve done my job right? If this makes you smile, then double points for me, I guess! Also, fuck you, I'm still mourning the loss of blockbuster movies so it exists in this one shot. huzzah.

You barrel in through Sero’s threshold, clutching your sides as you bust out laughing, exhilarated from you and Sero’s grand escape from a dastardly encounter— you seeing your ex boyfriend in public. Sero flings himself after you, clamping his hands down on your shoulders practically shaking as he tries to catch his breath.

“D-do you think he saw us??” He snickers, twirling around you to throw his house keys down on his front door counter top.

“I’m sure he did! He said my name right before you grabbed me!”

Sero’s grin widens as he sifts through your bag to grab one of the many sweet treats he picked out for the both of you. “But are you really sure that he saw us?”

“Sero, you literally spider-manned us out of blockbuster. The entire store saw us! They’re going to have to get a long ass ladder to get that tape off the ceiling!” You grin at him and with your best, most formal tone, you mock, “that was quite indecent, young man!”

“Ehhh. I’m sure they have somebody at the blockbuster who was like a leg extension or flying quirk. They’ll be fine!

You snort. “I can’t believe you just referred to blockbuster as ‘the blockbuster’ like you’re some kinda old lady!”

“Now, why don’t you make a decision on what my identity is? Who am I: Spider-Man or Gammy NumNums?”

“Who am I to say? I don't know Spider-Man’s secret identity. How are we so sure that Gammy NumNums herself isn’t Spider-Man?

“Oh shit, I think you’re onto something there.” Sero plops down on his couch, setting his treats down on the table next to it. “I’m really living the greatest triple life, huh? The best of all worlds.”

“I’ll say.” You mosey into the room, vibrating with happiness and comfort you get whenever you’re in Sero’s house. You nod at the pile of blankets he has at his feet. The two of you are going to be having a blanket fort movie night, something you’ve been looking forward to all week long. “Shall we get started?”

“Nah nah nah, lemme take care of all of this! Can you get the popcorn ready?”

You nod and grab two different packets from your bag. “Butter or kettle? I couldn’t decide.”

“What do I look like, an animal? Butter! Buttery butter. I want my popcorn to slide off my fingertips!”

You mock a gag. “I think maybe you are an animal,” you say and throw a pillow at Sero’s face before hopping to the kitchen before he could retaliate.

You leave the room with a giant smile on your face. Back at the store, you let yourself freeze in front of your ex while a thousand thoughts ran through your head. It’s always been odd seeing him in public after the two of you broke up, but every time you have seen him, you’ve been able to hide yourself immediately. Thankfully Sero was there when you were discovered and you recovered from your mental paralysis as soon as he swung the two of you out and away from him.

Sero has really been a special kind of hero towards you since your breakup. He’s been nothing but supportive of you— there for you whether you needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to bring a smile to your face. Sero is your guy. Sometimes both! You recall an instance where you were done crying but had said something along the lines of “my heart might be broken,” and without hesitating, Sero clicked out a piece of his tape and placed it over your chest, telling you that he’d be there to fix it. That’s when you first realized that maybe your heart could change fall into a new direction. He has really become something very… special to you. You find your heart skipping a beat during certain instances. If his hand lingers on your waist for a second longer than you’re used to, your mind goes haywire. It’s funny— you know you have feelings for him, and you’re pretty positive he might reciprocate those feelings, but the two of you avoid saying anything about it like the plague. You’re completely comfortable with him, but sometimes when you’re alone, when you’re close, the air grows thick with tension and the two of you sit in silence until one of you inevitable break the silence by making some lame joke. But god, sometimes you just want to hold the boy down and smooch his face!!

You pause in the hallway to check yourself in the mirror, pursing your lips as you turn to inspect your teal blue pajama bottoms. You sigh, embarrassed to have been in public with your lounge wear: slippers and all. If you had been expecting to see anybody, you would’ve done your makeup, maybe put on a skirt and some cute boots, but he saw you looking like a slob with a shit ton of candy in your hands.

After you pop your corn, you return to Sero’s living room, amazed at how quickly he made the fort transformation. Blankets hang from the walls and ceiling, cascading down with nice curves centering on an arena of fluffy pillows with Sero sprawled out in the middle, languidly pushing chocolate covered cookie dough into his mouth while he bats at the controls to get the movie started. You pause at the doorway, shifting your weight from one leg to another nervously until he looks at you, lifting a brow when you bite your lip.

“I know,” he says with a grin, “I’m absolutely brilliant.”

“You’re just alright.” You take you seat next to the boy, and burrow your cold feet under his legs. He gives you a funny grin, but you shrug it off. “I’m cold!”

“I think I-“ Sero presses his lips together, a worried look crawling over his face “-I’m certain I spared a blanket or two for us to actually use.”

He takes a moment to look around and after he finds nothing, he gives you a wide eyed stare. “Oh no.”

“See, this is why you're just alright.”

Sero hops up. “No, no, no— I’m not just alright. I’m the king of this here fort.” Sero raises his hands to feel around for a blanket used for the roof that’s unnecessary for the structure. His shirt lifts, exposing his tight midriff to you, and you tell yourself to look away, but you just can’t bring yourself to. Your eyes linger on his naval before drifting down towards his gray sweatpants where you can definitely make out the outline of his dick. You could scream.

“Do forts usually have kings?”

“This one does.”

You get to you knees, fully aware of how it might look to him if he so much as glances down, and ask, “if you’re the king, what would that make me?”

“That’s easy,” Sero says, carefully peeling some tape off a loose blanket, “you’re the princess.”

“HA! So you’re my dad?!”

Sero snickers before his eyes meet yours, blanket falling into his hands. He hesitates for a moment while he looks down at you, his brows furrowing as the tips of his ears grow to be a redder hue.

“Absolutely not,” he whispers in a tone softer than you’re used to. The blanket fall to the floor, but Sero stays stock still, eyes glazing over as he takes in your suggestive position.

“Then how does this work?” You quip, growing all the more embarrassed that you’re practically begging for him to make a move while at the same time, doing absolutely nothing.

“Don’t you remember?” Finally, he crouches down, leveling his head with yours. You can feel his breath dance across your face as he continues, “I swept you off your feet. Stole you right out from under the nose of a beastly emperor. The princess is merely a guest at my fort; it’s a safe haven for her.”

“Then one could say that the princess owes the king a lot for saving her life…”

“The king is only happy when the princess is safe and happy. She owes him nothing.”

“Is that so…?” You reach a hand into the popcorn bowl, grin sinisterly at ‘the king’, and buck a handful of the buttery goodness Sero loves so much right at his face. “Little did you know, the princess has been planning to assassinate the king in order to take the fort for herself!”

“Damn you, princess!” Sero laughs, throwing his own handful right back at you. “The king has been betrayed one too many times after giving in to acts of charity!”

“The king is a fool!” You yell, swinging a pillow at his face, knocking him back into his cushioned seminar. “Long live princess me!!”

Sero moves to remove your assault weapon from his face, only to have you climb on top of him to pin his hands behind his back

“You suck.”

“You sure wish I would.”

“I—“ Sero’s face flushes beat red while you smirk down at him. You tighten your thighs hold around him but get distracted by something poking your chest. It’s popcorn.

“Oh. Ew.” Without thinking, you pull the bits out from your bra and pop them into your mouth. Sero gives you a funny grin and it’s your turn to flush. You hide behind your hands and cry, “GAHH! I’m not a princess! I’m a troll!”

Sero uses this opening to his advantage, grabbing onto your hands and using sheer strength, flings you onto your back, panning you down against a pillowy wonderland.

“Ahhh curse your hero training,” you laugh, wiggling your legs around so you can lay more comfortably under your faux assailant.

“Troll princess,” Sero sighs, his warm breath cascading down your neck, causing shivers to prickle all across your body, “I've got you now.”

“Oh nooo.” You toss your head back, subtly lifting your pelvis to press against his. Heat floods into your belly when you feel his hardening erection pulsate against you. This isn’t what friends do and you know that. He has to know that, too. “The King’s got the poor, helpless princess locked beneath him. Whatever can she do? Whatever will he do?”

Sero goes silent. His eyes scan over your face, lips patting when they land in yours. You’re unsure of what to do— what to say. At this point you might as well tell him to kiss you.

“I don’t wanna play this game anymore,” he says in a sort of morose way. You heart falls and your stomach goes to knots. Maybe you were wrong about him feeling the same way for you do? Maybe the two of you are just really good friends. But his hands don’t move from their pinned position.

“Sero… we don’t have to do this if you don’t w—“

Your sentence gets cut short by Sero’s lips suddenly locking onto yours. You hum in surprise, but kiss him back, your skin practically screaming in delight when his tongue slides over your bottom lip. You try to reach up to him but Sero’s bolted hands hold your wrists firmly, keeping them above your head and all you can do is roll your tongue over his, trying to catch as much of him as you can before the kiss breaks.

But it doesn’t. He pushes your wrists together so he can hold you with one hand while the other slides down to your body, caressing your side until he squeezes your waist. You lift your pelvis and his arm wraps around your back, pulling you closer against his body. His cock rubs against your pubic bone and you can’t help but imagine what it may feel like inside of you.

You manage to free one of your hands and swiftly move it down to his sweats, greedily massaging him through his pants. Finally Sero pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his.

“Oh, heh~,” he says, seizing your hand. “I’m, uh, really sensitive…”

“Oh? I’d like to see just how-“ again, you’re cut off by Sero claiming your lips, the kiss more forceful the second time around. It’s messy, and wet, and desperate, and you find yourself sighing into his mouth every time you get a chance to breathe, only to have those short moments thrown away by your own need possessing your body to kiss him back harsher, hands reaching up to his hair to tug and pull, exciting you when you hear a groan build up in the back Sero’s throat.

“Fuck.” Sero’s lips meet your neck, his hand resting against your exposed belly. It’s cold but you don’t mind; your body craves his cool touch. Using his tongue, Sero draw a long strip up from your neck to your ear, causing your body to shudder. You practically melt when he whispers, “I want you. I want you so bad. You have no idea.”

You sigh as Sero nibbles in your ear, his hands boldly exploring farther up your body. “I… think I have some idea.”

“Nuh-uh.” Sero leans back, his eyes shamelessly scanning over your body. You didn’t think it possible, but your skin warms up even more from his lingering gaze. As much as you like the attention, you want his hands right back on you pronto. “There’s no way you could possibly like me as much as I like you…”

You scowl at him. Too much talking and not enough kissing. You pull your shirt off and unclasp your bra, throwing your garments to the side, exposing yourself to him. Nervous tingles nip at your body, but the look on his face, the way his eyes flick from your face to your chest and back to your face as his adam’s apple bobs, makes it all worth it.

“Shit… you’re so— you’re everything to me, I need you to know that, like, if you’re at all uncomfortable or like if I do something you don’t like— god, you’re gorgeous, I just wanna—“

“-Sero…” You take his hands in yours and lead them back to your body. “Please… touch me.”

“Y-yeah…”

Sero presses his lips to yours in a sweeter manner, him molding to you nearly perfectly as his hands run up your sides. Goosebumps erupt across your body when he pushes you back down against the pillows. His right hand cups your breast as he trails kisses down your chest, only pausing when he begins to snicker.

“What?”

“Salty,” he says, his tongue licking dangerous close to your nipple. “You taste like popcorn.”

“Ohhhh noooooo-ahhh~!”

A pretty sight: Sero’s pink tongue rolling out to lav over your puckered bud.

His lips wrap around your nipple; he sucks and your body jolts forward. He’s not the only one who’s sensitive. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sinister grin. “I like it.”

Your breathing grows heavy while Sero makes his way down your stomach, making sure to pay extra attention to the places that make you squirm when he kisses them. He gets to your pajama shorts and pets your clothed slit with a knuckle. Your hips buck up when he leans down and licks you through your shorts, excited pulsations grabbing at your core. You need more.

Your shorts fly off by your own doing, whether it’s to get the ball rolling or if you want him to be giving you the exact same lustful stare he is now is lost to you, but you’ll take it. You love it. You want him to look at you like that forever.

Sero pets your core, his own breath shuddering as you roll your hips at his touch.

“You’re already so fucking wet,” he says, annunciating every word as if it pains him to say it. He rests his head in your thigh as he lazily teases you, seeming to enjoy your light mewling that comes when his fingers grow closer to your clit, the way your body moves to his touch. “I want it.”

“What ~ahah~ what are you gonna do about it?”

“Hmmm.” To your severe displeasure, Sero removes to hands, only to strip himself of his own shirt. You stare at him in awe; of course you’ve seen him shirtless before, but under these circumstances, it’s different. And you’re sure he’s bulked our a bit since the last time you caught him half-naked. Goodness.

“Ohh my god,” you sigh when he tosses his shirt to the sigh, the sight of his muscles moving over you incredibly enticing.

“What?” Sero gets to his elbows and spreads your legs open for him. He gives your pussy a long lick and groans, closing his eyes when he kisses your pubic bone. “You got something to say?”

“You’re just… so… ohhhh~!”

Sero begins laving at your heat, drowning the room with your surprised moans. His skillful tongue traces your caverns until his mouth is covered in your need. He eats you out like he’s starving for it— hell, he could’ve been famished if he says there’s no way you can like him more than he likes you. His tongue circles your clit, his never ceasing groans adding to your pleasure. You reach down as grasp at his soft hair, massaging his head as he toys with your sensitivity.

“So what, Princess?” He asks as his fingers tease your hole. The nickname sends shivers up your spine. You don’t mind it, you just didn’t think that something so cheesy could sound so hot coming from him.

“So— ahhh ahah~!” A loud moan you aren’t expecting tears out from your throat when Sero plunges two fingers into your depths. He chuckles and returns his attention back to your clit, watching your face contort in pleasure through heavy eyelashes. He sucks in you while his fingers curl against your walls, the threat of your own release building up against your stomach. You moan and pull his hair, whispering incomprehensible words, trying to find the right way to encourage him, the right way to warn him that you’re close.

“I know, I’ve got a big tongue, huh?” Oh, so he could be a smug bastard, too?

“Sssaaah~” You try saying his name, but it’s lost to you. You don’t know what to call him: Hanta? Sero? He’s been your friend for so long that saying his actual name might sound weird on your tongue, but what if saying his last name sounds weird to him? “Hero…”

“Hmmm?” His low voice murmuring into your core sends your body into a frenzy. Your body starts to shake and grip onto the cushions to keep you grounded, but that doesn’t save you from the next word you yelp out as your body is lost to ecstatic fits.

“Fuck! Oh god, Santa~ nnng~ hah~!” You squeeze your thighs together, locking him in as he gifts you with little kitten licks, elongating your excruciating orgasm with the low reverberations of his voice while he laps up your pleasure.

Your body settles but that doesn’t stop him at first. He savors your twitching body, kissing your swollen bud tenderly, brushing his hands across your sweat covered body, until he looks up at you and grins.

“So you have some kinda Christmas kink?”

You catch your breath, gazing up at the makeshift blanket ceiling, before looking back down at his goofy, red face. “What do you mean?”

“You just called me ‘Santa.’ I mean, Christmas isn’t for another month but I’m sure I could find a Santa hat somewhere if that’s what you’re into. I live to please.”

“Oh no.” You bury yourself behind your hands. “No I didn’t. No, no, noooo!!”

Sero climbs on top of you and kisses your hands. “Hey,” he sings at you, “don’t hide. I don’t kink shame.”

You grab a pillow a fling it into his face. “Shut up! Noooo!”

The two of you laugh together, his breath fanning you as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. The two of you stay like that for mere seconds but it feels like an eternity. He made you cum, but still, you crave him. You want more of him.

“That was actually really hot.” You feel him grin against your neck. “You forgetting my name. It kinda made me feel good. Really good.”

“I could… I could make you feel better,” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his back, using your fingernails to tickle his skin. He flushes.

“Is that so?” He leans down and pecks your lips. “‘Cause I wasn’t done with you. I wanna see if I can make you say all seven reindeers’ names.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

He quirks a brow. “You wanna?”

...Desperately. “Yes.”

Sero’s all too quick to free himself of his sweats and you side him by pulling his boxers down. You gulp at the sight of his erection; it’s a nice size with a beautiful curve, pre-cum already seeping out through the slit of his reddened head. You look to him and bite your lips. You grasp at the base of his length and guide his cockhead to to your mouth, pulling you tongue out to lick at his knob.

“Ahh~, um, I’m really-“

“Sensitive?” You ask before lulling your tongue underneath his cock.

“Y-yess,” he hisses, grasping at your hair to pull you back.

You grin wryly back at him. “Then how’s this going to work?”

“With me in control-“ he smirks “-lay back princess.”

You pout at him but he moves to kiss your neck, gently pushing your shoulders down so you’re back on the cushions. You reach your hands up and arch your back, an obvious ploy to get him all the more hot and bothered, and not an unsuccessful one at that.

“God damn,” he breathes, stroking his cock while taking in your figure. “God, I lo—… I need to say something before we go any further.”

“Hmmm?” You run your hands down your body. You stop at your breasts, teasing your nipples, and biting your lips. “You can say anything to me.”

“Sweet Jesus, you’re not making this easy.” He sighs and falls over you. A hand cups your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. It looks like he’s eating to say something serious, but you can hardly think straight with his hardened dick resting against your thigh.

“This,” he says, stroking the back of his hand against your cheek, “can’t be… I can’t be just a rebound for you. I know I might not seem like it, but I’m an all or nothing kinda guy. You can either just be my friend—my really good friend that I’ll think about for all eternity, or you can be… my friend who I’m allowed to take on dates and kiss in public and have high make out sessions whenever we want…”

Oh! Oh he’s asking you out! You can’t help the grin from spreading across your face, but you don’t realize you’re not responding until he continues with—

“And if you’re not yet over that guy… I think I can wait for you, but I don’t… want to get my hopes up or anything…”

Sero your DICK is on my THIGH!

“Sero, you’re not a rebound. I would be very happy if you would take me on dates, kiss me in public, and have high make out sessions with me. I’d even be happy if I get to call you my boyfriend.”

He beams. “You mean that?”

“Yesss, I do. We were practically dating already!”

“Nahhh, I’ve just been warming you up. You don’t know dating until we’ve conquered the entire laser tag arena together.”

This dork. “Then I’ll wait for that with bated breath. Now, please for the love of god, fuck me before I explode!”

“Oho, we can’t have that…”

Sero lines himself up with center, allowing his cockhead to toy with your hot, needy entrance. He curses and rolls his head back as he inches himself forward, testing your heat before pulling out completely. His eyelids grow heavy when he pushes into you again and you feel yourself clamp down on him. You whimper. He feels bigger than he looks and it takes some pull before he’s completely inside you, but god, oh god, after you get used to it, you can’t help but moan as his dick slides in and out of you.

“Mmmphhhfuck, that’s good.” Slowly, Sero rolls his hips, gently fucking you at a near excruciating pace. He breathes through his teeth as his cock grinds into your walls. It feels fantastic having the head of his cock rubbing against the certain spot deep inside you. His arm wraps around your back and he pulls you flush against him, your breasts bouncing against his chest as he quickens the pace, kissing you fiercely, hungrily , while his hands lock you into place.

“You don’t know,” he seethes, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

He bites down in your neck and you claw at his back, mewling. The force, even though he’s taking his time, is addicting and you find yourself syncing up with him in no time; cursing, and panting as you sync up with him. He feels so good that you could cry, instead, you beg.

“More,” you sigh, practically his humping cock, “please Sero. I ahhh~ I need more!”

Sero growls and it sends you body spinning with lust and agony. He pushes you back down and forces himself to his hilt, making you cry out in sheer ecstasy. He presses his hand against your belly, pulls out and pushes back in with the same extremity. “More?” He growls in a sort of sensually dark tone that floods your body and shakes you to your core. “You want more, babe? I’ll give the princess anything she wants!”

“Fuuuck!” You cry, filling the room with pathetic moans as Sero drills into you with such indignant fury that it nearly makes your eyes go black. Your body grows wet with perspiration and lust, Sero pushing into you with pools of his own sweat meshing with yours.

He silences your pathetic moaning with a violent kiss, biting down on your bottom lip while he greedily paws at your breasts. Then, he stills completely, pulling back, fanning your face while he pants, “ho ho ho, amiright?”

“PFFFFT NOOO!!” Your belly clenches as the two of you bust out laughing, until Sero eyes completely glaze over.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he groans. “Keep laughing, that feels so—ohhhhh fuck!”

Something completely takes him over and you laughter turns to screams of delight when he starts completely pulverizing you with such an intense, bruising velocity that you could see your soul escape your mouth. He slams into you, lifting your leg over his head, keeping his quick and relentless pace until you feel his cock begin to throb.

“You’re. Just. So. Fucking. Hot!” he says through gritted teeth. His fingers quickly dance around your clit, rubbing at your pleasure until you feel yourself coil and your cunt flutters around his girth. “God, I can feel it. You’re close. Fuck! Babe, you need to cum. Princess, please, I can’t-!”

“I’m ~nggg~ so close!!”

Sero kisses you, shoving his tongue against yours, urgently needing to taste you. His dick twitches within you, his fingers desperately trying to get you to keep up. Your hair stands up on the back of your neck. Your coil breaks. You clench around him and allow waves of pleasure to burst through you as he rams into you with rigorous intent. You cling on to him, crying out about how good he feels, how you can’t stand not having him fill you up, how you want to feel his everything deep, deep inside of you.

Sero grunts and ruts into you. Warmth floods your core as thick ropes of cum line your hungry walls. There’s so much and it doesn’t seem to stop coming as he slows his grooving, kissing your forehead while his orgasm chases yours. You breathe in sync with one another, staring each other in the eyes, unsure of what to say, what to do, before he finally pulls out and let’s you leak onto the cushions.

“Oh, whoops,” he says, inspecting the mess. “Lemme just— warm towel…”

He hops up, but you grab him by the wrist and pull him down into a kiss. He grins against you and you feel yourself growing jubilant with everything that just happened.

“You’re incredible,” you say, holding him there for a moment before letting him back up.

“No, you.”

“Pfft!”

“I mean it!” He brings his hands up in mock defense. “You have no idea! You have no idea! I just-! Lemme get a towel and then I’ll shower you with praise!”

Sero is gone and back in a flash, warmed wet towel in hand. He takes his time wiping the sweat off your body, making sure to talk uncharacteristically sweet to you while he takes care. He wraps you in the blanket that hath forsaken him and cleans the white mess on the cushion before joining you under said blanket. His body is warmer than the blanket and you love it.

“Sooo… the movie. Movie night with my girlfriend!”

“Ha! That’s right! This is one of my favorite movies so you better pay attention! No distractions!”

“Mhmmm,” he hums half-heartedly. “No distractions.”

But even while the movie plays, your warm bodies are pressed right up against each other. There’s definitely going to be more distractions. The two of you have been waiting for this for too long, and Sero has to prove that he’s not just alright, and he certainly wants to learn all about your secret Christmas kink.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello @rubyred-imagines

#sero x reader #bnha x reader #hanta x reader #Hanta Sero x reader #Sero hanta x reader #reader insert #bnha reader insert #mha x reader #hanta sero imagine #bnha imagine #bnha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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silverwhiteraven · 5 years ago

Text

Borne of the Stars - Chapter 6 - An MLB Krypronian AU

Tag List: @eve-valution @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @soulmate-game @abrx2002 @amayakans @vixen-uchiha @heldtogetherbysafetypins @raisuke06 @dorkus-minimus @captainartsypants @mopester-is-here @moonlightstar64 @annabellabrookes @maribat-is-lifeblood @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-navistar-carol @elspethshadow @chocolatecatstheron @ivymala07

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 5 ] [ Chapter 7 ]

[ Current Concept Art Sketches ]

[ A/N: You can ask to be added to the tag list for the art of this AU and related Karanette content! I hope you enjoy my work~! ]

[Summary: Kara has arrived, answers are given, questions are made, and school finally begins. ]

Marinette, unsure how to react, became an equally wide-eyed mirror image of Nino.

Kara-Supergirl, her mind helpfully filled in a second time-continued looking as devious and casual as ever with her arms crossed, back against the wall by the classroom door, and the tread of her boot up against the wall.

Nino, wrapping up his own shock before Marinette could, finally spoke, though it was low and disbelieving.

“Mari, dude, tell me that’s not who I think it is.”

She only shook her head in a minuscule in response. Kara pushed off the wall and her hands dropped to instead slide into her jacket pockets as she walked up to the frozen pair.

“Oh, no, sorry Nino, no can do; I’m definitely the me you think I am.”

Kara’s accent was noticeable, but it surprised Marinete just how well she was speaking French. So she really was practicing with Nino, she thought, before another thought made itself painfully obvious, and she tensed up at the realization.

“You won the bet,” she whispered a little breathlessly. The other girl grinned.

“Bet?” Nino’s attention was pulled to Marinette at her words, his brow furrowed in confusion. It was clear Supergirl hadn't told her language practice-dummy about the almost forgotten agreement.

“Yup,” the disguised superhero chimed, “A bet! You helped a lot, Nino, thanks buddy!” She clapped her hand down on his shoulder as she grinned at him, and though it wasn't too hard, an audible ‘oof’ still startled out of him.

“Our darlin’ Marinette here and I made a little wager,” Kara continued, side-eyeing the said girl as she explained to Nino what happened barely over a year before. “I challenged myself to learn French and surprise her with it. Mission: Successful. Not exactly as planned, but it all worked out, yeah?”

“Not as planned?” Worry hinted in Marinette’s voice as she fully found her voice. “Did-did you plan to transfer to school here? This whole time?”

“No?” she didn't seem to be convinced of her own answer, and Marinette just kept staring for another second before Kara gave a shrug and tilted her head in defeat. “Okay, yeah, I did, but not so soon, ya’know? Like for University or something, but it just got moved ahead a little bit.”

Marinette narrowed her eyes a bit as she crossed her arms. Nino stepped back, recognizing the rise of a scrutinizing gaze. Her voice however remained a contrasting soft tone. “So what happened?”

“Grounded,” Kara states with a shrug.

“You’re…grounded, in Paris?”

“Yep. I got into a little bit of trouble with one of my cousin’s friends,” a fellow hero, Marinette guessed, as she missed the glance sent to the locket hanging from around her neck. “And he decided to ‘ground me’ for it,” there were sarcastic air-quotes to accompany the words.

“Sent me to the safest, least crime-ridden city in the world and told me not to act like a hero while I'm here,” Kara finished under her breath for only Nino and Marinette to hear, her expression falling into a pained one at the revealed news.

Nino gave a sympathetic frown and returned the earlier pat on the shoulder in an attempt at comfort.

Marinette felt bad as well, wanting to help cheer her usually fired-up friend back up. “You think you can handle it? I doubt he will keep you from helping when it really matters. If it helps, you can join our class when we do service projects; they’re not the same as what you did back in Metropolis, but they’re still helpful to people.”

Her smile was encouraging as Kara looked back up, one side of her mouth turned upward. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that. Not sure how much help I’ll be, but anything counts, right?”

“Right!” Both Nino and Marinette chimed back, glad to see the now civilian superhero gaining back her spark.

“Besides,” Kara adds on as though it were an afterthought, “it’s not like I came here alone.”

“You-?”

“Marinette!!”

Said called girl was interrupted as she turned around to be crashed into by another girl with long ombre ginger hair.

A laugh escaped Nino, “Should have seen that coming, bro,” he commented, “She does that way too much.”

“Alya,” Marinette whined with a laugh of her own as she steaded herself and her friend from falling over. “I’m clumsy enough on my own, I don't need you turning me into a bowling pin.”

“You will always need me, my dearest friend,” Alya teased, finally releasing Marinette and sharing a fist-bump in greeting with Nino. “Maybe not as your bowling ball, but anything else you may need. So! Who’s the new kid?” Alya was now turned to Kara ever-present curiosity clear on her face as her full attention was turned on the other.

“Kara,” the Kryptonian introduced herself before either of the other two could. “You're Alya Cesaire, right?”

Alya brightened at being recognized and nodded vigorously. “Yeah, how did you know?” Marinette and Nino both silently fretted about the possibility of Supergirl about to out herself all over again to one of their classmates. Their reporter classmate.

“You run the Heroics Archive Blog, right? My cousin was really impressed with your Superman interview.”

“Your cousin?” Alya looked curious to who it was.

The duo who knew Kara’s other identity worried just a little more urgently at the direction the conversation was going. The hero was either about to out herself as the cousin of Superman to a reporter of all things hero, or-

“Yeah, Clark Kent, said he couldn’t do it better himself. Good job there, guy’s a tough one to really impress.” Or out said cousin’s secret identity to the two already in the know, apparently.

The two still sighed almost inaudibly as they were still in the safe with the whole identity thing. They were still glad, however, as they watched Kara give them a side-eye and a wink, that she trusted them so much. It was a bonus that the superhero wasn't as completely reckless as she tended to present herself as. Marinette made a quick mental note to apologize through, next time she saw Superman, for learning his secret identity from Supergirl instead of himself.

There were stars in Alya’s eyes as she comprehended the fact of impressing such a well known writer who shared her interest and focus of stories on superheroes.

The warning bell for class rang out, and Marinette jumped, and though she was standing right outside their classroom door, she still felt the sudden panic of don't be late. The other three with her chuckled at the sight, and she huffed a response before grabbing a hand each of Nino and Alya, now heading for the door. “Let’s try to be on time this year, guys; can’t have those traditional start-of-year macaroons at lunch if we're tardy.”

The responding hums of delight and lack of resistance to her pulls encouraged her to let go of their wrists as they sped past her into the classroom. She turned back to Kara and smiled, “Well, come on, this is your class too, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” Kara confirmed, walking up to follow her. “Why else would I be waiting outside it?”

“Touche,” Marinette giggled, and walked in.

She took quick note of her classmates and where they sat. She was happy to see her entire class from collège all together for another year. Kim and Nathaniel were seated together in the top row off to the left, and Rose and Juleka on the other side. The next row down had Ivan with Mylène, Alix at the opposite desk with an open seat. The second row up was Lila and Max, with Nino now seated at the spot below Alix, another open space beside him. The very front row was the same as the last two: Sabrina and Chloé to the left, and Adrien on the first right, Alya taking the placement Nino once had.

Marinette took a quick glance back to Kara, noticing her sending a poisoned glare at Chloé, before nudging her and tilting her head up at the empty seats. The other girl nodded, sending a final stink-eye to the spoiled blonde, and followed dutifully. Marinette took the space next to Nino, behind Alya. Kara went up to the next desk, gracelessly plopping herself into the seat, curiously earning herself a disdained return glare from Chloé, now positioned behind Marinette and next to Alix.

The start of school bell rang and the new teacher walked in, and for Marinette, with them came a feeling that she now couldn’t wait for the day to be over.

#Borne of the Stars #maribat #Karanette #Kryptonian AU #miraculous ladybug #dc super hero girls #kara danvers #marinette dupain cheng #nino lahiffe #alya cesaire #supergirl #crossover au #chloe bourgeois

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writingbymel · 5 years ago

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Syndicate - Part 7

Author’s Note: SURPRISE I’M BACK! Sorry for the long hiatus, I honestly got swarmed with work and life & put this blog to the side! Anyways, part 7 is here! :) Some of you guys have been a little confused with the timing/setting of this story in relation to The Originals, but to be honest there isn’t a correlation. This story just contains the characters from the show and some of my own characters.

Also, some of you guys have requested me to post this whole story on wattpad so I’ve uploaded it here: writingbymel wattpad

Date Posted: 05/06/2020

Summary: Y/N, Klaus, and Rebekah attempt to track down more clues about the mysterious creature terrorizing the Quarter.

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Word Count: 2,000+

Parts: SYNDICATE MASTERLIST

I play with the small knick knacks on the voodoo shop shelves. I grimace a little at the strange headless dolls that lined the room.

“You both haven’t talked to me in years and now when you need something of course you are here,” Margery says crushing up some herbs in a small bowl. She mixes some sort of liquid into the bowl as well. Margery was one of the witches in the quarter that Klaus and I both knew for decades. She had a troubled past and sought New Orleans for refuge, but became entangled in the witch coven here. Over time, we had a falling out due to the feud between the New Orleans witches and the vampires.

“I know you have no reason to help us Marge,” I say hesitantly. “But this is for the greater good of the city.”

“You have no right to call me that anymore Y/N,” Marge says. In a quick blur Klaus pins Margery against the wall. “Klaus, don’t,” I state nervously.

“Look witch, you owe my family a favor, so I think it would bode well for you to help us,” Klaus seethes.

“Fine, fine let me go,” Margery struggles against his grip. “You vampires never know how to play nice,” she mutters under her breath.

“See was that so hard?” Klaus asks with a smile. I roll my eyes at his dramatics and try to give a small smile to Margery in hopes she forgives us.

Margery ignores us laying out a few of her spell materials. She begins chanting something in a foreign language. Sand on the map begins to move slowly towards a location.

“Quickly now love,” Klaus states pacing back and forth. I shove him in the shoulder to get him to shut up.

“Klaus be quiet,” I say. He holds his hands up in defeat walking into the other room.

“He hasn’t changed after all these years,” Margery says continuing her spell. I lean up against one of the tables in the room with my arms crossed watching Margery’s methodical actions. “I’ve heard quite the stories about you Y/N, a newly turned vampire who was on the run from the Mikaelsons. The one who’s in love with a beast. The witches in the quarter talk Y/N. What is it do you see in him?” I stop myself from lunging towards her.

“Just complete the spell Margery,” I mutter praying that Klaus was not listening to what she was saying, but knowing him he probably was. “Please,” I add hoping not to anger her further.

Klaus walks into the room shortly after, “How’s the spell going?”

“I’m done,” Margery replies staring down at the map. “All signs point to Lafayette Cemetery.”

“The witches must have something to do with this,” I say grabbing my coat.

“Let’s go Y/N,” Klaus says exiting out the front door. Before I can follow, Margery grabs a hold of my arm.

“Y/N you need to be careful around the Mikaelsons,” Margery warns. “Trouble always follows that family.”

I pull my arm out of her grasp, “I can judge characters for myself.” I look at the spot she grabbed and rub my arm a bit in discomfort. I look down to realize a red mark in the shape of three interconnected rings now bore my arm. I quickly pull my shirt sleeve down hiding the strange mark. I decided not to make a fuss about it with the ghoul issue at large.

I follow Klaus out of the door. “I never did like witches,” I say catching up to Klaus’s pace. Klaus laughs a bit at my comment.

“You and me both love,” Klaus says walking through the crowded streets. Eventually we arrive at the familiar cemetery gates.

“What is our plan?” I ask unlatching the gate door.

“Search the grounds for some sort of clue,” Klaus says. He’s interrupted by the ringing of my cellphone. I reach into my pocket to see Rebekah’s call.

“Hey Rebekah,” I say. Klaus points out to the general vicinity indicating that he was going to start searching the grounds. I nod at him.

“Will you tell me what on earth is going on?” Rebekah asks. “Where did you and Klaus disappear to?”

“We had Marge— I mean Margery help us cast a locator spell to find where the ghoul came from,” I explain. “She told us all signs pointed to the cemetery.”

“I’ll be there in a few,” Rebekah says ending the phone call. I put my phone back in my pocket before searching the area.

“Klaus?” I yell out into the silence. There was no response, so I assumed Klaus must’ve gotten far.

“What do you think you’re doing here vampire?” I hear a voice behind me. I turn around to see a girl I didn’t recognize. She takes a few steps closer to me causing me to take a few steps back in panic.

“Who are you?” I ask. She starts chanting in a language I couldn’t understand. A sharp pain begins to spread through my head and I fall to my knees. I scream in pain realizing she was a witch putting some sort of spell on me. I attempt to crawl towards her to somehow stop her, but the pain was too much.

“That’s not very nice,” I hear followed by a loud crack. The witch falls to the ground and I see Rebekah rush up to me. “Are you alright Y/N?” I nod slowly getting up with her help. I see her eyes wander to the mark on my arm, but I rapidly pull down my shirt sleeve before she could get a good look. “How dare my brother leave you alone.” Rebekah says looking around the graveyard. She mustn’t have noticed the mark.

“It’s not his fault,” I say. “I told him to go on without me.”

“Well lucky I showed up when I did,” Rebekah replies wandering off into the graveyard. I quickly catch up to follow her.

“I’m not sure how far Klaus is by now,” I tell her. I stop and I listen to the sounds surrounding us. “I think he went this way,” I take a right turn to see Klaus crouching near a pile of black dust.

“Glad you caught up,” Klaus says dusting off his hands covered in the soot-like material. “I was starting to worry love.”

“I got a little held up,” I laugh exchanging a look with Rebekah. She smiles at me.

“What have we got here?” Rebekah asks walking closer.

I follow her lead, “It looks similar to what the creature at Rousseau’s left behind.”

“It is definitely what it seems like,” Klaus responds. I reach into my pocket to grab a small sachet. I crouch down and scoop some of the dust into it.

“For our research later,” I say tying the little bag shut. Rebekah looks around the area in attempts to find some sort of clue. I follow her and notice a few arrows stuck in a tombstone. “This is strange,” I say taking a closer look at the arrows.

“Not many people participate in archery in these parts,” Rebekah replies.

“Whoever shot these must have been aiming at something,” I say.

“Or someone,” Klaus states standing by my side.

“Is there an archery club or something around here?” I ask. “Maybe we can start by looking there?”

Rebekah smirks, “I know just the place and I happen to know someone who is meeting there today. Follow me.” Rebekah starts to make her way to the bustling downtown nightlife of New Orleans.

“Why does your sister know everyone in town?” I ask Klaus with a laugh.

“Beats me,” Klaus responds. “My sister is an enigma.”

After a few minutes of banter we approach a building with an old sign that reads “Perrine, Gage.”

Klaus furrows his eyebrows, “Rock, Stone?”

“I never said this was a classy place,” Rebekah replies entering the facility. Inside we are met with an American countryside themed bar. The walls were covered in American war memorabilia, cowboy hats, and farm animal paintings.

“The French name and the American theme,” I question. “I’m even more confused.”

Klaus shakes his head in disgust, “I’m starting to question the company you keep sister.”

“Oh hush,” Rebekah says wandering further into the back of the bar. Seated far in the back of the bar was a group of men invested in a game of cards. Rebekah scans the room looking for what I assume to be her friend. Her eyes light up when she recognizes a man in the corner of the room. “Sawyer!” Rebekah calls out. Sawyer started making his way over to us with a wide smile. He wore a cowboy hat on his head and was dressed in a green flannel. His face was adorned with scruff and his clothes were dirtied with oil, probably from working. He embraces Rebekah with a hug. “What are you doing out in these parts?” Sawyer asks eyeing Klaus and I. I feel myself turn a little red not enjoying the attention.

“We need your expertise. This is my brother Klaus,” Rebekah smiles gesturing to Klaus. “And our friend Y/N.”

Sawyer bows sarcastically, tipping his hat towards us, “Pleasure.” This makes me laugh and Klaus glares at me unamused. “Any friend of Rebekah’s is a friend of mine,” Sawyer grabs Klaus and I, one on each arm, directing us towards the bartender. Sawyer does a wave of his hands and immediately two glasses of whiskey is set on the table in front of us. Rebekah takes a seat next to us and orders herself a drink. Sawyer immediately hops over to take the seat on the other side of me.

“So Beks how is it being back in New Orleans for good?” Sawyer asks.

“It’s nice to be back with my family,” Rebekah smiles placing a hand on Klaus’s. Klaus returns the smile. Rebekah quickly lowers her voice looking around the crowded bar, “But the whole reason I’m here isn’t to catch up unfortunately. There’s been a creature around targeting specifically supernatural creatures and we found one of your men’s arrows in the area.”

“That’s impossible,” Sawyer replies. “We haven’t gone out to shoot arrows in ages. Ever since my dad died no one ever had the same passion anymore to practice archery.”

“Are you sure you can’t think of anyone?” I ask.

“I mean I could ask around but I can’t promise you anything,” Sawyer replies.

“That would mean a lot,” I tell him. He shoots me a wink before drinking a sip of his beer.

“Alright, I think we have enough information,” Klaus says abruptly getting up from his seat.

“Oh come on now you guys just got here,” Sawyer states. “At least stay for the line dancing.”

Rebekah looks at Klaus a pleading look in her eyes, “Come on Klaus that sounds so fun, you need to let loose.”

“There is no way I’m line dancing,” Klaus replies. “Not with a ghoul rampaging our city.”

“Don’t need to be so negative man,” Sawyer places a hand on Klaus’s arm and Klaus pulls away from him heading to the door.

“Sorry about that my brother has moods,” Rebekah laughs nervously. “So you want to dance Y/N?”

“I think I’m gonna go find Klaus,” I reply. “See if he’s okay.”

“Of course you choose my brother over me,” Rebekah fake cries.

I roll my eyes at her, “I’ll see you at home later?”

“Yes of course,” Rebekah says following Sawyer onto the dance floor.

“Nice meeting you Y/N!” Sawyer yells out from the crowd. I shake my head and head out the wooden bar doors. I attempt to use my hearing to find Klaus, but it didn’t take long before I spotted his familiar back a little ways down the street. His hands are stuffed in his pockets and he seems deep in thought. I speed up to him, shocking him a little bit.

“Hey grumpy pants,” I tease linking my arm with his. He lets out a small laugh in response.

We walk in silence toward the house for a few minutes with me pointing out sights, but Klaus not responding. I stop us in our tracks causing a couple people to bump into us from behind.

“Y/N what are you doing,” Klaus asks pulling us off the middle of the sidewalk.

“Well you weren’t talking to me I had to get your attention somehow,” I say.

He groans, “I’m tired Y/N.” He starts walking again, but I vampire speed in front of him. “Y/N someone could’ve seen that,” he continues walking towards home. He snakes his way through the crowds that often painted the streets at this time of night.

“But no one did,” I reply walking next to him. “Klaus what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Klaus replies. After what seemed like forever we finally made our way back home. He makes his way through the front door and up the stairs.

“If I didn’t know any better you’re jealous,” I say following him.

“What would I be jealous of?” Klaus asks.

“Rebekah’s friend…” I reply.

“Y/N I could care less about who has a crush on you and who doesn’t,” Klaus continues to make his way upstairs. “You and I are just friends.”

His words shut me up quickly. Just friends? I feel my heart drop a little in disappointment. I thought we were way past the friend stage, or was I just imagining things. I don’t know how to respond so I make my way back down the stairs.

“Hello Y/N,” Elijah states, but I ignore his greeting. I walk to the kitchen to fix something to eat. I angrily grab the peanut butter and jelly from the fridge. I begin to make my sandwich. “Y/N what did that poor sandwich ever do to you?” Elijah asks leaning against the doorframe.

“I’ve had a terrible day Elijah,” I respond. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Okay okay I won’t pry any further,” Elijah says grabbing some water. “Goodnight Y/N.”

“Night Elijah,” I state. I take my finished sandwich out to the front terrace. I look up at the night sky and smile as I see a shooting star pass by. I close my eyes and make a wish before enjoying my sandwich. My eyes linger on the mark Margery gave me on my arm. Something in my gut told me trouble was closer than I thought.

#klaus mikaelson #klaus #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus x reader #the originals #the originals imagine #niklaus mikaelson x reader #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagine

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1-1snailxd-art · 5 years ago

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Sanders Sides Oneshot - Babysitting

This is how you beat writers block - you draw and then find your will to write afterwards.

Characters/relationships: Logan / Virgil (analogical), Patton / Roman (Royality), Kid Thomas

Warnings: none

Words: 1511

Summary: This came about from a post by @fanartfunart and seeing as I’m trying to learn how to draw people better, I decided to challenge myself with a drawing....that drawing then turned into a little fic. FYI, I know there is a lot wrong with Logan’s proportions in the picture (I can see it), but Thomas is cute so whatever.

_____________________________________

"Don't be such a baby, Logan." Virgil huffed, following his partner into the kitchen. "It's a kid, not a freakin' nuclear bomb."

"I know that, but..." Logan kept his back to Virgil as he absentmindedly took ingredients for dinner out of the fridge and cupboards. "I don't know anything about babysitting a child."

Watching the cook’s shoulders slump at the admission, Virgil softened his tone and moved to lean on the counter next to Logan.

"What's to know, Lo? You give him some food, easy for you, and turn on the TV. Job done." Virgil sighed when Logan didn't look away from the bowl in front of him; hands floured as he prepared a pasta dough. "Look, I only need to be in the studio for an hour at most; then I'll come straight home. You can entertain 'til I get back, right?"

"Are you sure you can't stay?"

The tone of Virgil's phone gave him his answer as the other man quickly excused himself to take the call. It wasn't that Logan didn't like children; he just didn't think he was good for children. Honestly, he questioned daily what Virgil saw in him; a pensive, workaholic wasn't that romantic and didn't scream partner material. Patton on the other hand was destined to be a parent; they'd wanted to be one since they were kids.

The pasta dough came into shape as Logan recalled the day Patton video called them to announce they had been approved for adoption now Roman had consistent work. He'd shared in their excitement but never fully understood it. Admittedly, Logan was still hurt that Patton had moved so far away to support Roman's career and their relationship took a hit from the distance.

Setting the finished dough aside to rest, Logan washed his hands and turned to find the dejected Virgil walking back in.

"Virgil? What's wrong?"

"I've gotta go, Lo. Shit's hit the fan with the computers at the studio and Nate's pissed."

"How bad is it?" Logan moved closer, knowing there would be no way out of this now and accepting that he would have to face Patton alone.

"Backups failing bad. I should have gone in earlier when it was just a glitch. It was stupid of me to ignore it and-fuck I'm gonna pay for it n-"

Logan tilted Virgil's chin back and placed a soft kiss on his lips to silence the worrier.

"I apologise for my earlier attitude and clouded judgements. I will be fine this evening. You should go." Taking Virgil's hand, Logan walked him towards the door. "I will be fine until you or Patton return."

"Yeah, you will." he replied with a half-smile, before giving Logan a final kiss goodbye and heading out the door.

The silence of the apartment was crushing as Logan threw himself onto the couch; sliding his glasses up off his face as he massaged his brow. It was all too much at once. First, he was just worried about seeing Patton and Roman again after years of dwindling contact; then they asked the couple to babysit while they went to the award ceremony that brought them to town; and now Logan would have to face it all alone. A knock at the door pulled Logan from his thoughts and he was quick to sit up and correct himself before answering it.

"Hey Specs" Roman smiled from the entry; the pink backpack on his shoulder a harsh contrast to the black suit he wore. "It's great to see you again!"

"It's good to see you too, Roman. You are looking well considering the travel."

"Oh please," With a hand gesture Roman stepped into the apartment and put the apparently heavy bag down. "It would take more than a few hours on a plane to ruin this face."

"Indeed," Logan chuckled, turning just in time to see a pink blur heading towards him.

"Uncle Logan!" Came a cheery voice as a body slammed into Logan and constricted his middle.

"Um...Thomas, I presume."

Logan looked up to see Patton beaming as they walked up the path in a simple blue gown. They looked so happy and lively that Logan forgot all his past grievances; it seemed Patton was happy and that was all that mattered.

"That's my Thomas," Patton giggled.

"It's good to see you again, Patton." Logan pulled a face as he looked down at the figure still holding his arms by his sides. "Your son is very... Huggie."

Roman and Patton both laughed, and Roman snapped a quick picture of the awkward man pinned by his son.

"Oh, I know. I trained him well, don't you think?"

"Indeed, Patton, but...um," Thomas giggled as Logan tried to lift his arms out of the vice grip around him. "How do I un-train him? I do need to work at some point this evening."

"That will do, Thomas; give Uncle Lo some breathing room."

At Roman's word, Thomas let go and moved to his father's side. Logan's moment of reprieve was short lived as Patton replaced their son, pulling their old friend close and whispering in his ear.

"I really missed you, Logan."

"I..." For a moment, he was lost for words before mimicking the tight grip around his friend. "I missed you too."

The group remained in the entry as Patton began rattling off things Thomas could and couldn't do. Though he listened intently, Logan's eyes kept shifting to the young boy in the pink jacket that lent against Roman; holding onto his father’s arms around his neck and smiling up at Logan.

".... And if you need anything, just call me and I'll come right back and-"

"Calm down, Pat." Roman interjected, "We're just going for a few hours. I'm sure Lo and Thomas will be fine."

"Right. You're right."

"I always am." "That's not true, Dad." Thomas turned to look up at his father in confusion. "We were late to the airport because you got the times wrong, and you brought the wrong chocolate milk last week, and you-"

"Alright, that's enough." Roman was quick to scoop the boy up and headed inside. "Let's get you set up, hey."

A smile crept across Logan's face as he watched them go.

"Is that a genuine smile I see, Logan?" It comforted Patton to see him looking so content, despite his obvious fear of being responsible for Thomas.

"I'm proud of you, Patton." Their eyes widened as Logan turned; his own shining in the sun light. "You made the family you always wanted." "Almost," they laughed. "It's just missing one thing." "Hm?" Brows furrowing in confusion, Logan wracked his brain for what Patton was talking about. "What could you possibly be missing?"

"Just an uncle to teach Thomas about computers and another to show him how to cook. Any idea on where I could find them?"

"I think I do, but they live pretty far away." "That's okay, we're moving anyway." "What?" Logan was genuinely shocked by the news, mouth left ajar as Roman came up from behind and place a hand on his shoulder.

"You ready to be a full-time uncle, Logan?"

The question left Logan reeling. Three years ago, Patton left their teaching position to follow Roman's quest for recognition in music and theatre; leaving Logan and Virgil behind in the process. One year ago, they adopted Thomas and their contact became almost non-existent; so to be told they were returning to include him and Virgil in their family...was amazing.

"I suppose I'll have to be."

This time, Logan initiated a group hug; wrapping an arm around each of his friends and briefly forgetting that they had somewhere to be and he had a job to do.

"Jeez Specs, Thomas rubbed off on you quickly." Roman joked; causing Logan to quickly step back and adjust his tie.

"Ah, yes, sorry." Logan stumbled over his words, causing his friends to laugh at his sudden display of affection. "I got a little carried away." "It's okay, Lo." Patton assured, waving at the little figure that was poking his head over the couch inside. "But we should get going or we'll never leave."

"Right. Yes. Of Course."

Logan watched as Patton blew a kiss to Thomas before heading down the front path with Roman. Once the car had pulled away, he shut the door and turned to the smiling figure kneeling on the couch, waiting patiently. Brown eyes looked expectantly at him and he thought about Patton's wish for uncles for their son.

"So… Thomas. Have you ever made pasta before?" The boy shook his head and slipped off the couch as Logan held his hand out. "Perhaps it's time uncle Logan taught you then."

*************************

When Virgil came home, he was shocked to find the apartment lit only by Steven Universe playing on the TV. Tiptoeing around the couch he was greeted to the scene of Logan fast asleep with Thomas laying on his chest. It didn't look comfortable at all, but Virgil had to admit it was an adorable thing to come home to.

________________________________________

Tags: @thequeensphinx

What else have I done:

The Shield to your Sword (WIP - A fantasy/magic au - Prinxiety (Royal Roman and orphan Virgil - they’ll admit to their love eventually), Virgil angst, non binary healer Logan, *spoiler* Patton, cursed Deceit and ridiculous Remus)

Libraries are for Meetings (ongoing WIP - Human/University au with Royality and developing Analogical. Slow burn and heavily focused on a grieving group of friends that Virgil slowly becomes a part of to better himself.)

And more....

Writing Master Post

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles

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silverandarsenic-hcs · 5 years ago

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Ghost BC X Traveling Circus AU

Another long post, im not sorry. am i gonna put a Read More link on any of these? no not ever. I had this idea while texting Nyx the other day (same day when I called all of you very sexy for still being active on this blog even tho we don’t post nearly as much as we used to). I hope you enjoy this concept as much as I do. Aside from the Papas and Copia, the ghouls are in order of the show schedule.

Papa II: He’s the one who spends all his time alone before the show begins. He keeps his head clear, and has just one drink, and expects everyone else to organize themselves as due even when he isn’t watching. And they do. When he goes out to welcome the crowd into their space for the evening, and thank them for giving him their time for the evening, he doesn’t make eye contact with a single person. It’s not his style. He doesn’t want to make people feel comfortable, or relaxed. He wants them on their toes and that’s exactly where he’ll keep them until they get home that evening. During every act of the ghouls, II can be seen watching from the side of the ring, arms crossed, smoke a cigarette and looking vaguely displeased - though inside, he really is proud to see the ghouls do so wonderfully every night. It’s all for affect.

Papa III: Our dear boy is not only the ring master, but also director, producer, manager, talent wrangler, and resident yeller. He’s running around with an iced coffee in his hand, a headset half on his head, and a clipboard under his arm, screaming about costumes until the second it’s time for him to go. They do the same thing virtually every night, you’d think they’d finally be organized enough to do it without a mistake at least once, right? Wrong. Every night something goes wrong, and every night the girls come in clutch and fix it just before show time, and the evening is saved. When he goes out to the crowd, he’s slow, and seductive. He speaks only poignant words, and enunciates each of them so crisp the most simple of sounds sticks in your brain. The show is always 18+ when he’s the leader, and makes sure every member of the crowd knows exactly why. He introduces each ghoul before the show, and can be seen watching with a small smile on his face from just behind a curtain for every act.

Cardinal Copia: I imagine Dracopia is very similar to Ring Leader Copia, in style and in sheer Vibes. When he’s a the helm things are a little... darker. More mysterious. He keeps it PG so the shows won’t be marked 18+ most nights, but any kids that are in the crowd will definitely be having nightmares about the Copia in the Closet that evening (you’ve heard of Elf on the Shelf, now get ready for.....). It’s him who sets the tone for the whole show, and the ghouls will follow suit with their acts. He likes to take his time in the spotlight before the ghouls go on for the next two hours, but once he’s gone, you won’t see him until the very end.

Dewdrop: however obvious, he's the guy with the fire. He starts the show after the ring leader goes off stage - starts it with a bang. The lights go low in tent, and a small orange flame ignites in the center of the stage. Before anyone realizes, an entire ring of flames surrounds him, where he stands atop a pedestal, juggling burning balls, bowling pins, and for the finale, knives. The entire crowd wonders how it's possible that he isn't burning his hands, but the ghouls keep that secret to themselves. In his pocket is a small parcel of a certain special powder, that when thrown on to the fire turn it every color of the rainbow. Sometimes if he’s feeling particularly in the mood for a show, he’ll turn the flames into something bigger, and more powerful. Something else entirely. It’s a good thing the ghouls don’t speak, so when meeting people after the show he won’t have to explain how a phoenix made from nothing but flames flew over the crowd. During the finale, the final trick, Dew throws a sword to Swiss, who catches it and while it's still burning, slips the entire thing down his throat.

Swiss: The sword swallower. After Dew's act introduces him, he puts out the burning sword with a squirt of water from his bottle, and blows the steam from his nostrils - the crowd loses their mind. Like Dew's swords, he starts off the act with the smallest in his arsenal, going all the way up to custom crafted silver blades, proven sharp to the touch with the cut of a cloth he keeps in his back pocket. Every onlooker is shocked every time he removes the sword absolutely clean of blood - how does his body do that? where does it go? Is it a magic trick? Is it all fake? They’ll never know. Until he pulls one member from the crowd to test the sword for themselves. They run their finger horizontally across the blade and prove it is sharp. The finale for Swiss’s run of the attention is when the same crowd member has the opportunity to be the one to put that very sword inside of him. They never do it right - nervous, shaking hands, if the ghouls were human all of Swiss’s organs and arteries would have been shredded by now. But the human crowd doesn’t know that, and to Swiss, it’s only mildly uncomfortable.

Ghoulettes: They're the ones who keep the show going in between every act but Dew/Swiss. Walking around in their costumes, cracking whips, making the crowd cheer and getting them excited (and a little turned on.). There's a reason this show is 18+ most nights. Some have even said they were the best part of the show. They'll occasionally pick a member of the crowd and bring them into the ring, during their own show or one of the other ghoul's. It keeps them invested. And if they get embarrassed they'll be sure to have the crowd cheer wildly for it. I don’t even have to say anything except “the girls have whips” and i already know you're imagining something better than I could ever put into words. That’s a W in my books.

Rain: Our water ghoul wows the crowd with feats of his own, no tricks, or ghoul power, or props needed. Well, maybe a little ghoul powers. After the ghoulettes return backstage, from the top of the tent descends glorious streams of blue silk, a hanging ariel ring, and a couple trapeze bars. Swiss sticks around for this part - throwing Rain up high into the air when he needs to, and catching him if he needs to be caught, but mostly just because he likes to watch this part of the slow as close as possible. The lights dim again, and Rain climbs up on the silks, amazing the crowd with merely a shred of his strength and flexibility. But everyone is absolutely silent for this part, transfixed on what’s before them. From the silks, Rain climbs up and grips the ariel bar, quickly flipping himself up to sit very pretty in the center of it. It’s a sight to see, the ring spinning slowly while Rain climbs elegantly through it, balancing himself on his hands alone. Not a single one of his movements disturbs the painfully slow rotation. From there he drops down to the ground, caught swiftly by Swiss, who then tosses him up so high into air the crowd questions if it’s really humanly possible to be that strong. Rain swings around on the trapeze bars with fluid ease, and when he finally drops down and lands on his feet, he takes a modest but confident bow.

Aether: Our leader ghoul is the animal tamer - he is used to it by now. Lions, bears, no matter what animal you give him he'll have it quickly under control. He does carry a whip, but doesn't use it for the sake of the animals, it is just for affect. The animals are incredible trained to make it look like they’re dangerous, vicious creatures, but backstage it’s not uncommon to find Aether hanging out with a tiger cub they rescued during one of their stops. He’ll make people laugh with silly physical expressions, and having the animals do fun tricks, and bring down members of the crowd to play a game with the animal. He, nonverbally, assures them that the animal won’t hurt them, and ushers them on to pet the great black bear in front of them. It usually goes well, but sometimes the bear isn’t in a great mood that night, so when Aether pulls the person out of harms way at the last second, he just looks that much better and braver. In that case, he’ll let whoever screamed the loudest have a moment to snuggle with the tuger cub. (look I know circuses don’t have animals like this anymore because animal cruelty and animal cruelty sucks. I get that do not come for me this is not real)

Mountain: The brute of the bunch. He does the most, which is why they save him for the very last. Whether he’s driving a dirt bike in circles every which way inside a small steel sphere, lifting incredible weights, or using his own strength to bed the steel of the cage he rode in, the crowd loves him. He’ll go into the stands and lift an entire bench full of grown men if he pleases. He’ll play to the girls, and lift two of them over his shoulders with only one hand on their bottoms with absolute ease - and they always swoon over him. How could you not, looking at those biceps nearly bursting through his button down. It’s a sight to see. And at the end of the show, when Mountain is done trying to pick up anyone he finds attractive, the rest of the ghouls and the ring master will come out and take a big bow while everyone cheers. With a final speech and a big thank you from Copia or one of the Papas, the lights will dim for the last time, and the show is over.

- Kat

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insideoutstory · 5 years ago

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Inside Out → Chapter One

summary: Whenever her father goes away for work, Christine has a sleepover with her friends Barb and Nancy. word count: 2.7k a/n: Hey guys! I don’t know if I’m going to post all the chapters on this blog, since some of them will be pretty long, but I figured I’d give it a shot. Let me know what you’d prefer! [ masterlist ] [ FF.net ]

November 4, 1983

By 8:00 PM, most of Hawkins, Indiana was getting ready to turn in for the night. Orange streetlamps buzzed faintly against the dark blue sky, kitchen lights turning off after dishes were washed, and the faint blue light of the television catching the curtains of some families’ front windows. Cars were carefully stowed away for the evening, and children argued with their parents that they could stay up just a little bit longer.

But one house, at least, was still wide awake.

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” a teenage girl asked, eyeing her father’s suitcases.

“Pretty darned,” he replied. He rounded the corner to the front room, dropping another bag into the pile so he could pull on his coat. “Suits are already in the car. Got my files, got my toothbrush…”

“Are you sure, Dad?”

“Christine, I’m a forty-year-old man. I know how to pack for a business trip.”

“Right,” she said with a curt nod, “and last time you just forgot your briefcase, so I had to hitch a ride to the airport to drop it off for you.”

“Well, at least I won’t make that mistake again, will I?”

He grinned at her until she broke. When her pout turned into a grudging smile, he tugged her forward to place a kiss into her blonde hair.

“Give me some credit. Kitchen is stoked, hotel number is on the fridge, Claudia is next door if you need anything, emergency funds are in the bread box, and the key to the liquor cabinet is in my ‘I Heart New York’ mug.”

“Dad, I don’t…”

“Ah, ah, ah!” He waved his hands vehemently, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t want you to lie to me. Just promise me you’ll drink responsibly.”

“I’m serious, Dad. I don’t…”

“Say it to make me feel better, come on. Please.”

“Fine,” she laughed. “Yes, I promise we’ll drink loads, and we’ll do it responsibly.”

“That’s my girl.” He kissed her swiftly on the cheek and picked up his bags. “I’ll be back next Monday. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, bumblebee.” He winked, and stuck his head around the corner to the living room. “Goodnight, girls! Give your parents my best!”

“Night, Mr. Walcott!”

“Have a safe flight!”

With one last pat on his daughter’s head, he ducked out of the house and closed the door behind him.

Christine peered through the window, one hand ready on the doorknob in case he came running back to grab something. But her father climbed into the car and backed out without incident. She waved as he pulled onto the road, and then headed back into the living room to rejoin her friends.

“I love your dad,” said Nancy from her seat on the floor. “He’s just so…”

“Cool,” Christine finished, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, we get it, Nance. You love my dad. You adore my dad. You are weirdly obsessed with my dad.”

“Shut up! I didn’t mean it like that.” Barb snorted next to her, and Nancy’s jaw dropped further. “I am not obsessed with her dad!”

“Sure,” Barb said with a shrug. She picked another potato chip from the bowl and inspected it closely to avoid Nancy’s death glare. “But you do bring him up literally every time we come over here.”

“Why, thank you, Barb,” said Christine smugly.

They cackled, watching Nancy blush furiously. Eventually, even she had to chuckle.

“I just think you’re lucky to have a dad that’s so understanding,” she explained. “If I brought up drinking to my dad, I think he’d go into cardiac arrest.”

“Uh, no,” Barb corrected, “your mom would go into cardiac arrest.”

“And then your dad would complain about the inconvenience on the way to the hospital,” finished Christine.

“Exactly! They’d get crazy upset, and still somehow manage to make it all about them. It’s ridiculous!”

“She’s got a point,” said Barb. “Your dad is pretty chill.”

Christine waved a hand in defeat. “Ugh, fine, whatever. My dad’s the bomb. Are we getting pizza or what?”

Nancy and Barb both raised their hands, and Christine retreated to the kitchen. As she plugged the number into the wall phone, she noticed a dark square sitting on the kitchen counter. She picked it up, flipping it open to review her father’s driver’s license, bank card, library card, assorted cash…

“Yeah, nice going, Dad,” she mumbled, pinning the phone to her shoulder. “Sorry, hi! I was looking to place an order for delivery?”

She ordered their normal pies—one extra cheese, one pepperoni—and weighed the wallet in her hand. The easiest thing would probably be to ask Barb to drive her to the airport. If they were lucky, the might even catch up to her dad on the road. She’d have to pay for the gas money, of course, but she could always take a few bills from the wallet…

Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. She was just rattling off her address when a set of headlights pulled into the driveway. The car door slammed, pounding feet jogged up to the house, and her father tumbled through the front door.

“Sweetheart? Have you seen my…?”

Christine whistled, leaning around the corner to toss him the wallet. He grinned, gave her a small salute, and ducked out of the house once more.

This was standard routine at the Walcott house. Not that her father was particularly forgetful, or that Christine was especially organized. They just kept each other in check. The two of them had a system, and it had been that way for years. It was part of the reason she hated it so much when he had to go away.

She was getting better though. Every business trip was offset by a sleepover with her two closest friends. They gossiped, ate junk food, stayed up far too late, and watched movies they had no business watching before bed.

“I can’t believe you made me bring this again,” Barb complained, once they were settled in the living room with their pizza and sodas. She pulled a videotape out of her bag, and pushed herself up on her knees to insert it into the machine. “Can’t we watch something new?”

“Hey, my house, my rules.” Christine stretched out a leg to kick Barb in the butt, and Nancy giggled. “We watch comedies at your house, chick flicks at Nancy’s. My house is the horror house.”

“Yeah, I know,” Barb sighed. She pressed a button, and the previews began to fly by on the screen. “I just don’t get why you guys like horror movies. They’re all skinny girls who don’t know how to run and skeevy guys trying to get in their pants.”

“They’re not all like that,” said Nancy. “I really liked Jaws.”

“Right. The one with the skinny girls who can’t swim, and the skeevy guys trying to get in their bathing suits.”

Christine threw a handful of popcorn at her, laughing when a piece got wedged underneath her glasses.

“Come on, Barb. That’s the whole point!”

“What? That guys are dumb and girls are dumber?”

“No, that stupidity gets punished.” Christine leaned against the seat of the couch, setting the popcorn bowl aside. “That’s the whole thing that gets overlooked in horror movies. There’s a structure to them. Skeevy guys, girls that sleep around, bullies, assholes—they’re all first on the chopping block. If you don’t do stupid shit, then you don’t get killed.”

“Oh, right,” Nancy said with an exaggerated nod. “So you like horror movies because they make you feel better about being a virgin?”

“Um, yeah. Obviously. What about you, Nance?”

“Me? Definitely the blood. I just—I love watching massive amounts of gore. Totally.”

“Funny,” Barb snorted. “I thought you guys just liked this movie cause that one guy looks like Steve Harrington.”

Nancy and Christine both squealed in protest.

“Oh my God, he does not!”

“Woah, hey, Jack looks nothing like Steve!”

“Right? You’re so right!”

“Nothing! Absolutely.”

They nodded at each other firmly in the silence, lips pursed in determination. Barb raised an eyebrow to meet her red curls. Nancy hesitantly pressed a hand over her mouth, trying to hold in her laughter, but the damage had already been done.

“Alright, except for the hair,” she admitted, kicking Christine’s leg.

“And the running shorts,” Christine added with a wink.

Both girls dissolved into giggles, unhindered by their friend’s unimpressed gaze. But the laughter was contagious, and after a few seconds even Barb was wiping her eyes and clutching her sides.

“Okay, okay,” she wheezed, struggling to maintain her mature composure. “Let’s just watch your dumb camp slasher.”

“It’s called Friday the Thirteenth, and it’s incredible, thank you very much.”

“Whatever, Chris.”

Things settled down as they got into the movie. Christine had already seen it at least eight times since it had come out, but it was still thoroughly entertaining. She liked the anticipation in horror movies—not knowing who’d be next, when the killer would get them or how they were gonna go. But as the crowd of characters thinned out on screen, her interest began to drift. Nancy had tuned out the moment the boy named Jack had been stabbed in the throat, and Barb had been more interested in her pizza than the film since the title card. Which brought the trio to the inevitable second phase of their sleepover.

“Nancy, truth or dare?” asked Barb.

Nancy swirled the remnants of her Coke around the bottle, deliberating before deciding, “Dare.”

Barb smirked victoriously. “Alright. I dare you to tell Christine who your real first crush was.”

“Excuse me?” Christine gaped, as Nancy’s jaw dropped.

“No! No, no, no! You can’t use dares to force truths! That’s against the rules!”

“Wait, your real first crush?” Christine repeated. “I thought it was Ethan Hart? That guy in my English class?”

“It was,” Nancy insisted, as Barb shook her head.

“No, it was not.”

“Who was it?” Christine demanded. “Nancy Wheeler, who was it?”

“I’m not doing this,” Nancy laughed, shaking her head. “Nope, nope, nope!”

“Nancy, if you don’t tell her I’m going to.”

“Barb!”

“Who was it, who was it, who was it, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me…”

“Shut up! Fine! It was Peter Jorgins!”

Nancy immediately buried her face in her hands as Barb and Christine erupted into laughter.

“Oh my God, Peter Jorgins?” Christine asked. “Isn’t he the one who kept that Princess Leia picture in his wallet?”

“Yup,” said Barb, nodding sagely. “Metal bikini and all.”

“Ugh, I know,” Nancy whined, peeking out between her fingers. “He wasn’t always such a perv. This was back in like, first grade. Way before you moved here.”

“Still, I’m hurt,” said Christine, laying a hand over her chest. “It’s like five years of friendship means nothing to you.”

“Very funny. Truth or dare, Chrissy?”

“Fine. Truth.”

Nancy narrowed her eyes, visibly mulling over a few ideas before breaking out into a smile. “Alright. So you said horror movies have rules, right? Like if you hook up with someone then you have to die?”

“Yeah, and?”

“If you were in a horror movie, would you rather be a loner and survive the film, or make out with Steve Harrington?”

“Oof, brutal,” said Barb, pointing at the girl across from her. “Good one.”

Christine chewed on her lip, sagging back against the couch as she began her internal debate. It was difficult to push aside her daydreams of what it would actually be like to make out with King Steve Harrington—the most popular boy at Hawkins High School. She could easily spend all night thinking about it and never answer the question.

It was a stupid question, she knew—make out with one boy or not die? But still. Not every boy was Steve Harrington.

“Chrissy, you can’t be serious,” Barb said, after nearly a full minute of silence. “No guy is worth dying for. Not even King Steve.”

“Well it’s just making out, right?” Christine said meekly. “I mean, they couldn’t kill me for making out with him. It’s not sex.”

“No way,” said Barb. “You’d rather get chased by a crazy psycho with a knife than miss the chance to kiss Steve Harrington?”

“I can run pretty fast…”

Christine shrugged, and Nancy cackled next to her. She shook her long brown hair out of her face, fighting for breath as she held up a finger.

“Okay, wait, but what if you did sleep with him? Survive the crazy psycho monster, or sex with Steve?”

“Are you kidding me?” Christine laughed. “Have you heard the way Becky Dern talks about him? And they only dated like, a month. I’m pretty sure it would be worth it.”

“So worth it,” Nancy agreed.

They turned to Barb, who was watching them both skeptically. She rolled her eyes—her signature move—and grinned.

“Well, I guess there are worse ways to go.”

There was another round of giggles, and everyone helped themselves to second helpings of pizza.

“Anyway,” Barb continued, “you’re one step closer than the rest of us to finding out, Miss Advanced Placement.”

“God, you’re so lucky,” Nancy sighed, downing the rest of her Coke. “I’m literally so jealous.”

“There’s nothing to be jealous of,” Christine insisted, though she could feel her cheeks heating up. “I see Steve one period a day, two tops.”

“But you’re his lab partner! That’s like, infinite opportunities to hang out. Lab questions, last minute reports, study dates…”

“I don’t think it sounds that glamorous,” said Barb. “Especially since he keeps slacking off.”

Her disapproving face was back in place, making Christine defensive.

“He’s been busy. I mean, between school and basketball practice…”

“Yeah? Well you’ve got a job.”

“It’s only been two reports,” Christine reasoned. “And he really tries in class, so it’s just the write up that I’m doing. Besides, I don’t mind. I really like physics.”

“Right. Physics.”

Christine did her best not to let that sting. She knew Barb was just looking out for her. She was a classic realist, probably the most sensible, grounded person in their group. Still, her protective streak could be a real downer.

“Hey,” Nancy said gently. “Maybe it’s not Steve’s fault, you know? Maybe Chrissy’s just hogging all the work for herself. She’s a science hog.”

“Excuse me?” Christine asked with a playful glare. Nancy shrugged. “A science hog. That’s why you’re in upper placement, right? You just love science so much, and you want to do everything yourself. You are a big nerd.”

“Right. This coming from the straight-A student.”

“Hate all you want, but straight-A isn’t upper placement.”

“Of course not,” Barb scoffed. “Just top of your class in English, and trigonometry, and chemistry…”

“Oh crap,” Nancy sighed, all jokes forgotten. “We’ve got a chem test next week. I completely forgot.”

“It’s next week,” said Christine, waving a hand. “You’ll be fine.”

“No, no—Mr. Kaminsky is like crazy hard. I swear half of the last test wasn’t even on the review sheet.”

“God, don’t remind me,” Barb groaned, and her head fell back toward the ceiling. “I actually had nightmares about the periodic table.”

“Exactly. And I might have passed the last one, but I have got to seriously ace this test if I want to be on track this semester. My mom tried to have this whole heart-to-heart because it’s not like me to just pass, or whatever, and…”

“Alright, okay, I get it,” Christine laughed. She leaned over, patting Nancy’s ankle. “But you’re gonna do great, Nance. You always do. If you want, I’ll help you study tomorrow, after I get off work. Promise. Just try not to worry about it for now, alright?”

Nancy bit her lip, glancing torn at the screen where the movie credits were still playing. She brandished a finger at Christine.

“Fine. But I’m serious, Chrissy, I need at least half an hour of flashcards.”

“Deal. Until then—Barb, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Who was your real first crush?”

The living room filled with laughter once more, and they settled back into their lighthearted game. Worrying could wait for another day. For now, all they had to worry about was being teenagers—watching movies, eating junk food, and talking about love and music and movies until they fell asleep on the floor.

#stranger things #stranger things oc #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x oc #ocappreciation #inside out #chapter 1 #chapters

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ardania22 · 5 years ago

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The Chronicles of Geyron, Chapter 33: Shaking the Earth

Above, a city under siege. Below, a bitter duel to the end. The fate of Geyron lies in the balance as the final battle continues!

(If you’re just tuning in, The Chronicles of Geyron is a fantasy novel I’ve been writing and revising for the better part of a decade. I’ll be posting a chapter a day to this blog, so follow along and let me know what you think! You can follow my updates in chronological order here.)

* * *

Kalann threw himself to the side to avoid Xaran’s slash. Wincing, he caught the fall with his forearm and shoved himself back onto his feet. “Could you consider moving a little faster?” he quipped, trying to hide his exhaustion. “I want this to be at least a bit of a challenge.”

“Then I’ll give you one!” Xaran sneered. He threw himself forward with a frenzy of rapid slashes, driving Kalann back to the edge of the platform. Grimacing, Kalann dropped and rolled away, standing up behind Xaran. The warlord spun around with his sword out, and Kalann barely brought his own up in time. The shock of the bow sent a ringing spark up Kalann’s spine.

Swiftly, Kalann knocked Xaran’s sword arm aside and jumped back, breathing heavily. The warlord was toying with him, clearly relishing every second of their duel. Kalann could feel the skill and malice radiating off him with each sharp, unsettling strike. He was so outmatched it was almost comical. Xaran could kill him in less than a minute if he put his mind to it.

Xaran smiled cruelly, noting Kalann’s weariness. “Your bravado does you little credit, foolish one. Why not give in? I assure you, it will be far less painful.”

Before Kalann could respond, Xaran leveled his arm and let loose a crackling bolt of black lightning at Kalann. Unable to move away in time, he was struck dead on and screamed as his body was wracked with pain. It was like a thousand heated needles stabbing into his muscle fibers. He collapsed to his knees, wrapping his arms around him in a vain attempt to stave off the pain.

“You see?” Xaran walked up to him, blade lazily scraping the ground. “Remember, I do not wish your death. Only your compliance. Are you so cruel as to deny such a heartfelt request?”

Kalann let out a long breath. The pain was fading, leaving a liquid ache behind. His pulse began to beat faster. Even when not coming from a glowing gold orb, Xaran’s voice was infuriating. “Sorry,” he rasped, “but I’m saving myself for the right person.” Swiftly, he lashed out with his foot, crushing Xaran’s kneecap. The warlord snarled and stumbled back.

Gasping in pain, Kalann staggered to his feet and accessed the situation. In the few minutes that they had been battling, Xaran showed no signs of slowing down. He’d avoided all of Kalann’s strikes, yet still managed to land a gash on Kalann’s left arm. Kalann’s muscles were aching, and his mysterious powers showed no signs of bubbling to the surface.

Overall, things were not looking too good.

Then I’ll fight until I die, he promised as he prepared to intercept Xaran’s oncoming charge. And my friends will finish this monster off.

* * *

Laura was having fun.

As narrow as the staircase was near the tower’s top, the Urts could only approach her one at a time. Each greenskin that charged at her was met with a dagger in the heart and a swift kick over the side, tumbling into the abyss below. The Urts on the staircase pushed against each other in a savage throng, knocking each other off in their deranged lust to be the first to tear her apart. Their feral cries echoes throughout the spire, furious and bloodthirsty. Yet that was all they had: noise.

A particularly burly Urt charged forward, swinging a great ax. Laura ducked under its swing and slashed its ankles, cutting its Achilles tendons. Before it could react, she sprang to her full height and shoved it backward. It collapsed into the throng of waiting Urts, knocking them over like bowling pins. Several cries rang out, fading away as the falling Urts vanished into the darkness. Those who avoided the spill scrambled back to their feet and lunged forward, trampling the crippled Urt underneath them.

Exhaling, Laura plunged a dagger into the next one’s chest and kicked him away. Even exhausted as she was, the skills she learned as child in Rutat’s dangerous neighborhoods had not abandoned her. It was ironic, in a sense: all the times she suffered in her early years now felt like practice for the bloodbath unfolding in front of her now. Her previous brushes with death gave her the experience to stay alive.

She reached back into her sheath and felt a pang of worry. Only three knives remained: the rest were lodged in the corpses piling up on the tower floor. Grimacing, she grabbed two and tossed one to her other hand. She’d have to go on the defensive now; no more sacrificing her weapons on each kill. Her attacks would have to become a lot slower and more deliberate, which would give the Urts plenty more opportunities to overwhelm her.

Hold the line, she told herself as the next wretch came screaming at her. I’m not letting these bastards get to Kalann.

* * *

Sweat was pouring down Kalann’s face. His arms felt as if he had been holding Wethelnar’s palace above his head. Xaran wasn’t relenting. His blade pounded ferociously down to meet Kalann’s, and showers of black sparks rained down on the platform every time they connected. He’d grown far more vicious ever since Kalann had injured his kneecap, spending far less time smiling menacingly from a distance. Now, he was beginning to show the true power within him. And Kalann was growing weaker every second.

Xaran twisted his arm and lashed out with a kick, sending Kalann staggering closer to the platform’s edge. His eyes narrowed into slits, Xaran pressed his advantage, raining down on Kalann with a thousand blows, giving him no chance to retreat or recover. Kalann tried to rally himself, but Xaran was winning. Even after minutes of fighting, he seemed to have as much strength as when the fight began. And he was not backing down.

Finally, Kalann saw an opening. Ducking under one of Xaran’s swings, he spun to the other side of him and sliced backward, scoring Xaran’s back through his cloak. Howling, the warlord turned and blasted another point-blank bolt of black lightning. Caught off guard, Kalann took the full brunt of the blow and collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain.

Xaran stepped forward and planted a foot on Kalann’s chest, pinning him to the ground. “Your bravery and foolishness never cease to amaze me, Kalann Sefu. You are truly worthy of the destiny given to you.”

Kalann clenched his fights tightly, fighting off the fading pain. “I don’t know what destiny you’re referring to, but I think I’ll pass!” He slashed at Xaran, but his movements were slowed. Xaran casually caught his blade with his own, twisting sharply. Kalann’s sword fell from his hands, and Xaran kicked it away.

Xaran leered down at him. Now that he was soundly beaten, the warlord had returned to his usual sneer. “I’m afraid destiny rarely allows much freedom. It will come, whether we wish it or not.”

He lowered his blade and touched its point to Kalann’s forehead, drawing a bead of blood. “I simply wish to ensure you are on the right side when it does.”

Kalann wet his lips. He could’ve tried to push Xaran off him, but his muscles were failing. The exhaustion he’d been forcing himself through was finally catching up with him. “I will never aid you,” he hissed.

Xaran’s eyes glittered like chunks of coal. “Yes,” he purred. “Show me your bravery. It will only make it that much sweeter when you finally break.”

With those words, Xaran flexed, and a torrent of black energy rushed down his blade, coursing into Kalann’s body like a boiling river.

He screamed; it was agony. It was hateful and sadistic and it scorched his nerves with a heat worse than dragonfire. His mind splintered and twisted, unable to escape from the torment. The world grew jagged around him. A black word began pounding in the maelstrom, like a message etched into his melting bones: Submit. Submit.

No!

Submit. Let the pain end. Let me end.

No… I cannot…

He grasped for some defense, but the tide of agony roiling through him allowed no escape. There was only pain, fire, and Xaran’s scorching eyes.

Submit.

Help me...

Submit.

Please…

And then, there was something. A spark. A light. Not hot, but warm, like desert sands right after sunrise. It was right there, just beyond Kalann’s fingertips, just beyond the unending pain. Spreading and twisting like the blueprint for a building yet to be constructed. Waiting.

He thought of Laura. Sparks. Selia and Faro. Evartan and Makuran. Tenno. Pailan. Wethelnar and Sword Flash. All of Geyron’s beauty. All he’d been through. All that Xaran would destroy if given the chance.

And he reached out.

And then… Kalann Sefu awoke.

* * *

Laura took another step backward, barely parrying the Urt’s pitted blade. Sweat dripped down her brow, threatening to cloud her vision. The Urts just kept coming, an endless green mass stretching out in a spiral down the staircase. She caught the Urt’s next swing on her left dagger and skewered his eye socket with the right. Swiftly, she drew her blade out and bashed the howling fiend on the side of its head, sending it tumbling over. Keep going. Don’t let them past you.

The next Urt was already scrambling up, sword swinging wildly. Laura took another step back… and gasped as she felt the top of her head collide with stone. She’d been pushed back to the top. There was nowhere left to run.

Desperately, she raised her daggers high and caught the Urt’s sword between them, forcing it back into its own head. She was out of room. There was nowhere to run, and no time to escape up the trapdoor. There was only stand and die.

The Urt fell, its skull split, the next one already clambering over its corpse. Laura raised her daggers, already feeling the weight of the approaching horde crushing her. Great spirits, let me have bought enough time.

Then, something changed. The air rippled with some unseen force. The Urts froze in place, their snarls dying out and their savagery overcome by a sensation completely unknown to them: fear. As Laura stared in shock, she felt the hairs on her arms stand up, like the air around her was crackling with ozone. But this wasn’t thunder she was feeling. This was something completely new, something she couldn’t even begin to describe. Something ancient. Something powerful.

Something alive.

And then, there was a great roar, and the world exploded in light. Laura gasped as the power surged around her, sending her blood rushing like a geyser. It billowed forth in waves and shrieked forth in bolts, seeming to crack the very fabric of reality in its wake. The tower shook as if from an earthquake. The Urts fell back, screaming, trying to run, knocking each other off the stairs in a mad dash to escape the light. But those who fell behind were enveloped and came unglued, their very beings unraveling into dust and heat. It was overwhelming, omnipotent, electrifying. Laura could feel herself singing, as if her entire body was harmonizing with a sudden new tune.

With one last shudder, the great force burst, and the sensations of the world came rushing back in all at once: sound, sight, smell, touch. She was no longer between the folds of the universe; she was right back in it. But the air still hummed with energy. The Urts still fled in a panicked fever. And up above Laura, she could sense that something powerful had awoken.

For a moment, she just stood, unmoored. Her brain was spinning like a dog chasing its tail. It felt like the world had just re-oriented itself in the blink of an eye. The force of the white light still echoed within her. And the feeling wasn’t new.

It was the same lingering vibration she felt following Kalann’s explosion out at sea.

Kalann… is it possible?

A second shockwave rumbled through the tower, shaking her out of her thoughts. Dust was beginning to spill from the newly cracked stone. If she didn’t get out now, she’d be stuck at the center of a maelstrom.

She took off running, her footfalls echoing in the muffled air. Kalann, whatever you’re doing, please come out alive!

* * *

Kalann breathed deeply, feeling energy course through him. His vision was blinding white, yet at the same time, he could see clearly. He could see Xaran, blown back against the edge of the platform. He could see the glimmering orange crystal above him, held like a lantern over his prone body. And he could see himself, dancing with sparks and tongues of shimmering light. He felt like a locked door inside him had just been thrown open, like the world had appeared from behind a veil after hiding there for all his life.

He had activated his powers at last!

He got to his feet slowly, feeling the way his body moved. His new energy roiled inside him like a monster, begging for him to set it free. His control over it was still weak: it was as if he was riding a wild horse bareback with no reins, just barely managing to avoid being thrown off.

That will have to be enough.

Xaran was standing up, his pitch-black eyes wide. “No,” he hissed. “How?”

Kalann glanced to the side; his sword lay where Xaran had kicked it away. He raised his hand, feeling his power surge through him. At once, the blade sprung from its rest and leaped the great distance back into Kalann’s hand. It started crackling with light the moment he grasped it.

Kalann turned to meet met Xaran’s gaze. His exhaustion was gone; he felt like he could’ve swum back across the great sea and ran all the way to Wethelnar. “Now, then,” he said. “Shall we try again?”

Xaran’s eyes narrowed. He raised his own blade, and the darkness around him seemed to grow, if possible, even darker. “Then come, Kalann Sefu,” he hissed. “Come and show me what good your pitiful tantrum will do!”

In spite of himself, Kalann smiled. This was why he fought. This was why he suffered. He didn’t know who he was, or where his powers came from, or what destiny had set in store for him. And he didn’t care. All that mattered was that the chance to save the land and people he loved was finally here.

Shouting in fury, he charged forward to meet his foe and end the battle for Geyron.

To Be Continued...

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