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flyingkiki · 3 years ago

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We played dangerously (1/?)

Because we need more stories that show us just how much of a dirty boi Timbo is. The more smtty #TimRae the better. So excited for this story and delve heavily into their drama and dirty deeds. Strap yourselves in, bbs. it's a steamy one.

The history between them ran deep and long, mostly unspoken, messy, and painfully raw. Years later, here they are - older and carrying just a little bit more baggage than necessary. Tim and Raven reflect on their dangerous history and sift through the extra baggage they acquired.

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“You’re quitting?”

Raven frowned and crossed her arms defensively. She steeled herself as Red Robin stared at her, a look of total disbelief on his face as he processed what she just told him. She ignored how a heavy feeling settled low in her stomach.

“I’m taking a sabbatical,” she said levelly.

“For an undefined period of time,” continued Tim, his voice strained as he drew his eyebrows together trying to process what he just heard five minutes ago. “That sounds like quitting to me,”

She pressed her lips together as she tried to ignore the harsh press of Tim’s emotions against her. She watched him stare at her from across the briefing room, the sound of their computer working on data broke the heavy silence between them. “It’s my life, of course it’s indefinite,”

Tim blinked and followed her stance, crossing his arms as he studied her intently. “I’m not trying to take control of your life, Raven,” he bristled.

Raven tilted her head in challenge. For whatever reason she felt annoyance crawl under her skin. “It sounds like you are,”

“I’m not,” Tim pressed, sighing loudly. With a huff he pulled off his mask and threw it on the briefing table. Raven watched it slide on the flat surface before looking back up at Tim’s confused blue eyes. “Look, I don’t want to fight. You can do whatever you want, Raven. You’re right, it’s your life. I’m sorry if I sounded controlling,”

Raven hummed in acknowledgement. She knew he meant well. She knew Tim well enough that he wanted to understand the situation at hand. She shifted under his gaze and ignored how her stomach gnawed painfully. “When are you leaving?” Tim asked, his tone softer as he slid into the seat across from her. Raven watched him grab his mask and fiddle with it absently. The atmosphere shifted and her stomach churned painfully.

“In two weeks,” Raven replied and sat down in front of him. She watched Tim press his lips together and frown at the news. “I got into a special program. School starts early in August,”

Tim swallowed and threw her a torn look. “I’m glad you’re going off to university,” he began. He paused to inhale as he tried to think. “And this is not something you could do, like part-time online or something?”

Raven frowned at the way he tried to find ways to make her stay. “No,” she said. “Our work is a tight schedule as it is,”

Tim nodded in agreement. He gave a halfhearted smile. “At least I tried,”

Her stomach lurched without her consent and she ignored the jumble of emotions in the room. Her decision was final. This conversation made the move incredibly real. Pain settled low in her stomach. She needed to pack and get things going. “I want a life outside of the Titans, Tim,” she said. “Most of you have lives outside of the Tower. Gar does his stupid acting. Jaime has his family and volunteer work. You run WE, Tim. You all get to do something outside of our uniform. I just want something as close to normal as I can get, whatever that is for Rachel Roth, even if it’s just for a while.”

Tim sighed. The tension was palpable as Tim frowned. His brows furrowed and he nodded. “Yeah, I respect that, Rae,” he said, voice low. Running his hand through his hair, Tim leaned back into his chair with a huff. “Yeah, okay. Yeah,” he breathed and looked deep in thought. She felt the faint press of his carefully controlled emotions. “We’ll make some preparations for your transition and make sure that everything is in order. I’ll let the Justice League know,”

There was a beat of silence between them. Raven was surprised how methodological the conversation was. Then again, was she really expecting an argument for her to stay? There was an inexplicable pin-like pain in her chest she could not shake off. Wasn’t this what she wanted? Sighing softly, she assumed their conversation was done and stood up. Tim probably had to file a report to the JL. She had to pack up and get going with her life – they all did. Raven swallowed a thought.

“Well, thanks,” she said and turned to leave the room. She heard Tim stand up.

“Hey,” Tim called, voice slightly strained. Raven paused and turned back around, eyeing him curiously. Tim swallowed and his brows pressed together and there was a cautious look on his face. “This is not about –”

“No,” Raven cut him off sharply. “It’s not.”

Tim sighed and his shoulders lowered slightly. He caught her blue eyes and Raven watched an expression she cannot quite place cross his face. He offered her a tentative smile and nodded, his brows still furrowed and still looking torn. “Okay,” he breathed. “Yeah, good.” He paused before continuing. “We’ll tell the team after dinner tonight.”

Raven nodded. Her stomach felt heavy, she had enough of this conversation. It was done. “I’m going to start packing up stuff,” she said and made her way towards the door.

“Everyone’s going to miss you, Raven,” Tim said as she opened the door.

She paused at the door, hand resting at the metal doorframe. Her finger tapped the frame thoughtfully as a few stray thoughts ran through her mind, before turning to look over her shoulder, catching Tim’s piercing blue eyes. She sent him a tight smile and buried whatever errant emotions tickled her heart. “Yeah, I’ll miss everyone too. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

She did not come back anytime soon.

Tim forgot when he was last in the Gotham Public Library – perhaps back when he was still in high school, 11 years ago? He wasn’t all too sure. His high school memories were blurry, given how his vigilante life was far more exciting than high school calculus.

But he was sure that the Gotham Public Library did not look this modern or dazzling since he last stepped into it when he was 15. The large library atrium was cleared out from its usual chairs and tables and instead filled with cocktail tables, round tables with sparkling black and gold table settings, buffet tables lined the walls, upbeat jazz music and heavy conversations filled the usual quiet halls, and every single one of the Gotham’s elite was dressed to the nines.

It was a charity dinner with plates going for the thousands. There was a silent auction too, some collectors’ books were up for grabs. The library was launching a new exhibit with some new codex they found out of Gotham. Wayne Foundation was funding most of the research and restoration work that went with it, and tonight’s event was supposed to help cover costs for the library’s expansion projects.

He idly listened to some politicians talk to Bruce and his siblings, Damian and Cass. Jason had moseyed off somewhere (likely browsing through the bookshelves or bidding on some of the collectibles in the silent auction) – lucky for the asshole. Tim wasn’t really paying attention. There was a lot going on, Tim barely kept up if he was being honest. A business merger was keeping his mind preoccupied, he was flying out to Japan tomorrow morning, and tonight’s dinner was the last place he honestly wanted to be at – but press as CEO of WE was important, Bruce liked to constantly remind him.

“So I was saying to him, ‘Johnny, son, if you don’t pull your pants up, that’s gonna be a lawsuit waiting to happen,��,” said the old man, assistant city treasurer – or whatever – to their small group. The old man heartily laughed, wheezing into his champagne glass. Bruce looked like he just swallowed bad caviar and cleared his throat while Damian and Cass made no effort to hide their bewildered faces. Tim sighed.

“Well, it does sound like a lawsuit waiting to happen, Mr. Peters,” Tim absently fiddled with his scotch glass and wondered if he should get anything stronger to get him through the night.

The man made a wounded sound and said something before slinking off. Bruce and Tim shared an exasperated look. Damian clicked his tongue, absently tapping his glass of orange juice. “This party is terrible, father,” he sniffed and icily scanned the crowd. “May we leave early?”

Bruce eyed his teenage son blandly. “We came here together, we leave together,” he said.

“Tt,” Damian frowned and took a sip from his orange juice.

Tim glanced at Damian, mildly feeling sorry for the 16-year-old gremlin. He remembered how he felt over these galas when he was younger. Internally grimacing at the galas when he first became CEO back when he was 17, Tim hid his displeasure behind his scotch glass while taking a sip.

They milled around more, talking to investors and guests from Gotham’s elite and academe. Tim smiled politely and held conversations where necessary, idly wondering when the night would be over. The crowd soon gathered in the middle of the atrium at the soft chime of a bell, signaling the start of another round of speeches from the library. Tim and his siblings slowly followed Bruce and the rest of the crowd towards the atrium. Tim caught Damian and Cass sharing bored glances.

“We’d like to thank everyone for being with us tonight,” said the Gotham Public Library Head Librarian, a well-dressed elderly man. The man went on with library expansion updates and the latest figures on tonight funds that were raised. Tim barely listed as he checked his phone for his flight details Tam sent him earlier. Ignoring the polite applause that filled the room, Tim continued to discreetly scroll through his itinerary.

“Tonight we’re also delighted to announce the opening of our exhibit, the Life Codex: Ancient Celebrations of Life. The library is honored to house this latest discovery and carry out the research, restoration, and preservation work of these recent discoveries,” the librarian droned on about ancient documents and the restoration work involved. Tim felt Cass nudge him and he blinked, looking up from his briefer. He stared at her quizzically.

“Attention,” she whispered. Tim offered her a sheepish look and pocketed his phone. They both turned their attention back to the stage. He caught sight of Jason’s large built shuffle in next to them, looking utterly bored. Since Jason was ‘legally alive’ again, they had roped him into attending a few events once in a while – much to the older man’s displeasure.

Mr. Tompkins, the Head Librarian, went on to discuss the project details that had gone underway since last month. Documents from Africa had been flown in and the research team had been working on restoring paper and decoding the codex. Tim barely listened as the elderly man droned on and silently wondered if he could still catch some sleep before his flight in the morning. His phone vibrated and he pointedly ignored Cass' look as he pulled out his phone to check an update from Tam.

"Doctor Collins, Dean of Gotham University's history and anthropology department is leading this project and she has built an excellent team for this project. Doctor Collins?" The head librarian welcomed an elderly woman with salt and pepper hair up on stage. Tim drowned out the speech as Dr. Collins started talking about the project, briefly looking at his phone and going through the project document for tomorrow's meeting with the Japanese tech firm. Tim wondered if he could at least get some good sushi while in Tokyo. Perhaps he could ask Tam to squeeze that into his schedule, they could --

"Hey, isn't that…" Jason paused and squinted at the stage. "Huh."

"Tim, look,"

Tim closed his phone and glanced at Cass curiously before turning his attention to the stage. Tim stopped short at what he saw.

Dressed in a flowing halter gown with a modest v-neck and a teasingly stylish slit up her right leg, a strikingly familiar woman walked up on the small platform offering the crowd a tentative smile and a modest wave. Tim watched the small woman carefully shuffle across the platform as a few more members of the research team were introduced. He blinked and stared at the violet-black haired woman and felt his throat tighten.

As if sensing his stare, dark blue eyes caught his light blue ones from across the hall. They zeroed in on him, easily catching him in a sea of hundreds.

There was an inexplicable tightness that seized his chest briefly, as Tim stared back at the woman, watching transfixed as emotions flickered across her face before quickly slipping back into a small pleasant smile and keeping her gaze briefly at him before turning to her colleagues and chuckling at something they were whispering to each other on stage. Tim watched and stared at her, schooling the surprise on his face, and just drinking in every familiar slopes and planes of her face because it had been what? Five? Six? Years since he last saw her.

"That's -"

"Rachel," Tim cut off Cass, blinking away his brief surprise and instead stared intently at his (former?) teammate.

"Rachel Roth leads our research team. Is there anything you'd like to say, dear?" Dr. Collins asked, turning to the group on stage. Rachel looked surprised before shaking her head and waving her hand in decline. "Ms. Roth does excellent work in ancient runes and languages, and restoration work. It's a pleasure to have her on the team. She's a guest lecturer at Gotham U, so if you're lucky, you best sign up for her special lecture series on ancient runes."

Tim watched as Rachel blushed at the praise, ducking her head briefly before chuckling at something a blonde haired woman next to her said. The group on stage shared a laugh and Tim watched curiously at the familiar sight of Raven smiling. There were few more pleasantries on stage before the group had their photo taken

“If we could invite Mr. Bruce Wayne, Mr. Lucius Fox, and Mr. Tim Wayne, to come up on stage for a quick photo with the rest of the team? After which we can proceed with our evening, and hopefully get your support in our library’s expansion work,” the head librarian called.

Tim blinked as Cass nudged him and pulled him out of his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he handed Cass his drink and quickly walked up the stage, following Bruce and Lucius up the small steps. Pulling on his practiced Tim Wayne-CEO-of-WE-smile, he dutifully shook hands with Dr. Collins and the head librarian. He briefly caught Raven’s stare as he moved across the stage to shake hands with people on the stage. Their gaze briefly met and her lips quirked into a small smile before quickly turning away and shuffling to the end of the line and out of reach for any other contact without attracting too much attention on them. Photos were taken swiftly and before Tim knew it everyone was ushered off the stage and he was wrapped up in a rather lengthy conversation on library work and the ongoing renovation projects.

Tim discreetly tried to look over his shoulder, barely catching a glimpse of the familiar slope of Raven’s shoulder disappearing into the crowd.

“Bruce Wayne,” Dr. Collins walked up to them just as the head librarian excused himself. The elderly woman beamed and quickly shook Bruce’s hand.

“Julia, it’s nice to see you again,” Bruce smiled warmly. “You know my son, Tim,”

Tim smiled and shook her hand. “Dr. Collins, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, easily pulling himself out of his thoughts of trying to find Raven in the crowd.

“Mr. Wayne,” The elderly woman beamed and regarded both men in front of her.

Tim chuckled. “Just Tim, please,”

“I worked with you parents, Jack and Janet, many years ago on a few of their archaeological digs, back in their early years. I met you when you were a little boy once or twice. I must say I am impressed at what a successful grown man you've become, Tim,” praised Dr. Collins. The elderly woman hummed and smiled. “CEO of Wayne Enterprises,”

Tim chuckled, pulling on his best boardroom smile. “Thank you,”

“Also, this makes me realize that time certainly flies when the young boy you last saw in diapers has become the CEO of the world’s most successful conglomerate,” Dr. Collins chuckled, beaming up at Bruce with a mischievous smile. “That does make me feel old,”

Bruce chuckled as Tim politely made a face and their small group fell into an easy conversation. “The last eight years with Tim as CEO have been the best years for the company,”

Tim grinned playfully over his scotch. “Careful, is that praise I hear?”

The small group fell into an easy conversation discussing work and the research project. Tim quickly gathered that Dr. Collins was an old family friend of the Waynes, particularly of Bruce’s parents. He kept rapt attention to the conversation, nodding and chiming in where necessary, while occasionally glancing around the room for even a hint of purple or black.

Feeling distracted by tonight’s discovery of Raven, Tim was ready to excuse himself from the conversation and pretend to make a phone call. That seemed to be the best way to try to look around and catch Raven.

“There you are,” Dr. Collins glanced over Bruce’s shoulder and beamed. She beckoned for whoever was behind Bruce to come closer.

“I was looking for you,”

Despite the years that passed, Tim recognized the familiar voice in a heartbeat. He watched as Raven appeared from behind Bruce. He schooled his face, trying to fight away any signs of recognition and familiarity towards the black haired woman. Tim watched in a mix of curiosity and internal surprise as Raven smiled softly at their group and confidently walked up to them. From the slopes of her shoulder, the elegant movements of her hands, to her black-violet hair, deep stormy blue eyes, and that achingly familiar errant dusting of a few freckles just around the hollows of her neck, Raven looked exactly like how he remembered her. Tim blinked and absently tapped his scotch glass as he stared openly at her, a sight he had not seen in years.

“Rachel, please meet Bruce Wayne and his son, Tim. As you know Wayne Enterprises provides extensive funding for our work,” Dr. Collins said, waiving at both men in front of them.

“Mr. Wayne,” Raven began, moving her champagne glass into her left hand and went to shake Bruce’s hand. A smile appeared on her face as she and Bruce exchanged pleasantries. There was no air of familiarity between them, despite the schooled smiles that stretched across both of their lips. Tim knew that practiced look from all the undercover missions he had seen, been with, her. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for all your support,”

Raven turned to Tim and he watched as her smile immediately curled up just a tiny bit more in that familiar teasing way he had not seen in the last six years. There was that achingly familiar twinkle in her eyes he often saw back in the day, reserved for rare occasions, and Tim found himself smiling back at Raven and eagerly drinking in her familiar presence. “Mr. Wayne,” she said to him, a small quiver in her voice that no one but him seemed to pick up. She reached out and shook his hand.

Tim gave her hand a brief squeeze and he was pleased to see how the corner of her lips curled into a familiar amused smile he remembered. “Just Tim,”

Raven hummed and nodded, pulling her hand back. “Thank you again for supporting the research and restoration project,”

“What were you busy with before joining this project?” Bruce asked curiously. There were little updates from Raven throughout the years as she left the team for university and eventually work. While in the early years of her sabbatical Tim kept some updates on her, these eventually became less up to date as Raven eventually seemed to do her own thing.

“I was in Iceland,” Raven supplied and explained that she worked on an ancient runes translation project with the local university for six months.

Tim felt a distant memory tickle the back of his mind and he ignored the tight feeling that accompanied those distinct memories. He ignored the whisps of memories that teased his mind. Dark blue eyes briefly caught his stare and he watched that familiar curl in the corner of Raven’s lips appear. Tim smiled in return. “Iceland is a beautiful country,” he commented.

Raven stared at him, dark blue eyes intense as he remembered them. “It is,”

“We’re glad that Rachel has joined our project. She’s a fine addition to our team,” commented Dr. Collins. The elderly woman smiled teasingly. “And we’re definitely hoping she’ll considering staying in Gotham after the project ends,”

Raven rolled her eyes in amusement. “We’re just two weeks into the project. We have a long way to go,”

Tim looked at her curiously. How could he have missed her entering Gotham?. “You’ve been here for two weeks?”

Raven looked at him as if catching the slight jump in his emotions at this little discovery. “Three actually, if you count my moving in week,” she shrugged in amusement.

Three weeks. Tim stored that information for later, for a later conversation, and ignored how it settled uncomfortably in his stomach. He instead smiled at her and titled his head curiously. “I hope the transfer into Gotham wasn’t too difficult,”

Raven made a face. “It’s been interesting,” she said and Tim easily caught her familiar teasing lilt in her voice.

“Let us know if you need any assistance getting you settled, I’m sure we can send over someone to help you with your apartment,” Bruce offered, smiling charmingly at Raven.

Raven waved him off. “It’s just a few more boxes, nothing really major,”

Tim watched as a young woman tentatively approached them and offered the group an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said to the group and quickly turned to Raven. With a quick tilt of her head towards the right, she made a face. “The University Press wants to talk to you,”

Raven made a face. “Oh, Why?”

“Just stuff about the project and the lecture,” supplied the young woman. She offered Raven a wry smile and made a face. “Also one of them asked if you were single,”

Raven rolled her eyes before smiling tightly at Bruce and Tim. “I’m sorry, if you’d excuse me. It was really nice to meet you. Thank you again for all your support. I hope you’ll visit the library again and we could show you around our work,” she said. Quickly turning to Dr. Collins, she nodded politely. “I’ll see you later, Julia,”

Smiling at Bruce and Tim, she tilted her head and there was an amused glint in her eyes as she stared at them. “Gentlemen,” she then turned on her heels, casually drank the rest of her champagne with just a little bit more purpose and seemingly bracing herself for what was about to happen next. Standing a little taller and squaring her shoulders, Raven followed the young assistant towards the press. “So, what did you tell them?” she asked, amusement lacing her voice.

As the conversation between Dr. Collins and Bruce resumed, Tim took a long sip of his scotch and stared at Raven’s retreating form. A million thoughts ran through his mind and he silently wondered just how fast he could get through his business trip in Tokyo. Sushi would have to wait for another time.

#timrae #tim drake #teen titans fanfiction #raven roth #raven #timrae 2021 year of smut and steam #be ready for baggage #lots of drama #and lots of steam because WE KNOW THESE BBS

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 4 years ago

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and the void looked back to say i love you (Part One)

A/N: did i write a whole fic inspired by the time phil surfed the void in osmp and then soon after that kristin sent in a tts saying "i love you"? yes. yes i did. (I'm aiming to update this every saturday until its done)

Warnings: brief violence mentions, implied/referenced character death (none of the osmp members, just random people), kristin has some mild eldritch horror moments (but it’s barely that she’s just a spooky lady)

Summary: All Kristin had known was all-consuming darkness. Not that she particularly minded it, the Void was her domain. But then along comes Philza, and her life is filled with light in the form of laughter and twinkling eyes. (Alternatively, five times Phil visited Kristin in the Void and one time she came up to the Overworld.)

Masterpost

The first time Kristin met Phil, he was flying along the roof of her domain, laughing and cheering as a murder of crows flew close behind him, cawing in a cacophony of distress and elation. She was confused by the birdlike man- not by the fact that he seemed to be part bird, but by the fact that there was someone even near the void at all.

"Why don't we dip down and touch the void? Just for a second," she heard the man say to his crows, who responded with squawks of terror. She watched, intrigued as the man began to dive down with a hand outstretched, the crows cawing their dissent all the while. His fingers brushed through the inky nothingness, the darkness of her domain creeping up his wrist- and then with a powerful flap of his wings he wrenched himself free of the void's grip. Taking on a physical form, she poked her head up out of the void to gaze at the man with wide eyes. She had never seen someone escape the grip of her domain before. And if she hadn't been intrigued before, she was certainly intrigued now.

“I’m fine guys, see? The void didn’t-” the man stopped midway through consoling his crows as he turned midair and locked eyes with Kristin. He looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He nearly started falling towards the void again, but quickly caught himself and hovered above Kristin. The crows circled around the man, cawing in a mix of alarm and excitement.

“Hello,” Kristin called out, a little unused to speaking but excited to have the chance to. The man let out a startled squawk in response, nearly unbalancing himself in the air but still managed to stay aloft.

“You can talk?!” the man cried out in surprise. Kristin tilted her head to the side in confusion.

“You can talk,” she said pointedly. The man let out a laugh, shaking his head in mild embarrassment.

“Good point. I just… didn’t think you were real. Thought my mind was playing tricks on me or some shit,” the man replied, still chuckling a bit. Kristin laughed along with him, and the man’s expression turned into something both mildly terrified and hopelessly endeared.

“What’s that look for?” Kristin asked, head tilting to the side in confusion. The man flushed slightly, and the crows’ caws took on a more teasing tone.

“Your laugh is uh- kind of unsettling, echoing through the void and all. But it’s also kinda charming in a way,” the man said with a bashful smile. The crows’ caws grew louder as they seemed to heckle the man, and he swatted at them in annoyance, muttering something about how he was not blushing.

“I think you’re kind of charming too,” Kristin said sweetly. That sent the crows into a tizzy, and the man’s expression lit up with a grin. Kristin decided she liked seeing the birdlike man smile.

“My name’s Philza, most people call me Phil though,” he said, reaching out his hand for half a second as if he intended to shake Kristin’s hand, but then promptly realized that he couldn’t even see Kristin’s hands. She chuckled good-naturedly, then drew herself up from the void to be more level with Phil. He was much smaller than she had thought, in fact her hand was bigger than his whole body.

“I’m the Queen of the Void, but if I were to know any people, they’d call me Kristin,” she replied, holding out her hand to Phil. He flew back a bit in surprise, then gave a sheepish smile and reached out to awkwardly pat her finger instead of attempting to shake her hand.

“It’s lovely to meet you- hold on, let me find an opening up there to rest on, my wings are getting tired,” Phil said, beginning to glide away.

“You can rest on my hand if you’d like! I promise I won’t pull you into the void, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in… well, ever, I think,” Kristin offered, holding out her hand palm up. A few of Phil’s crows flew to rest in her hand, cawing up at her in greeting. Phil looked a little skeptical still, but seeing as his crows were alright, he flew down to sit cross-legged in her palm.

“Thank you. I get tired a little quicker when I’m away from the sky,” he explained.

“Then why come down here at all?” Kristin asked. Phil shrugged.

“I was exploring, saw an opening to the void and decided to explore. In all my traveling, I’ve never seen access to the void through the Overworld,” he replied.

“But you’ve seen the void before?”

“Yes, when I was very young. The place I came from was just an island in the void.”

“Then why are you here? In the ‘Overworld,’ as you put it,” Kristin asked. Phil frowned in thought, a dark, mournful expression taking over his face for a few moments before he shook his head. “It’s… a long story,” Phil said, something dark taking over his previous cheerful tone.

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, I didn’t mean to pry,” Kristin said hurriedly, something in her stomach twisting uncomfortably at making her new friend upset. Phil patted her hand reassuringly, giving a weak smile.

“It’s alright, I just don’t talk about it much… mostly because I don’t have many to talk about it to. Anyway, something… bad had happened, on the island. I don’t remember much, but what I do know is that people had come in big ships and attacked my home. Myself and some others managed to fly away to try and escape through the portal the people had made to get to our world… but I was the only one that made it out before something happened on the other end, and the portal shut down,” Phil explained, the smile he had managed before slowly slipping off of his face as he talked. One of his crows resting on his shoulder hopped over to nuzzle his cheek, and Phil gently scritched the bird’s head with a wistful smile.

“I’m very sorry to hear that. It’s terrible, what happened to you,” Kristin said, wishing there was something more she could do than just offer condolences. Phil merely shrugged.

“Not your fault, not mine either. It just… happened, I guess. For a while I tried to find a way back, tried to relight the portal or find a different one- but no luck. Decided to just travel and explore instead,” Phil said.

“Sounds like a rather lonely adventure,” Kristin replied.

“Oh it’s not that lonely, I’ve got my crows after all. They just sorta started following me around- I’m pretty sure they think I’m a giant crow, since they call me ‘Dadza’ sometimes,” Phil said with a chuckle. The crows squawked indignantly, seemingly arguing among themselves and with Phil.

“They talk?” Kristin asked, frowning as she listened to the crows a little closer, but couldn’t make out any words amongst the chaos.

“I mean… not exactly, but I do understand what their caws mean,” Phil explained. Kristin raised an eyebrow.

“So… you are a giant crow, then,” she said with a wry smile. The crows ceased their argumentative cawing for a moment to look at Kristin, then back at Phil, before they started a ruckus of excited caws.

“Look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and encouraged their chaos,” Phil huffed, crossing his arms and looking very disgruntled as a murder of crows hopped and fluttered around him, cawing in excitement all the while. Kristin couldn’t help it- she laughed.

“Sorry. I did think you were a bird when I first saw you down here,” Kristin said sheepishly.

“Well… you’re not wrong, I am birdlike in some ways, but I think a giant crow is a bit of an oversimplification,” Phil replied.

“But an accurate oversimplification,” Kristin countered with a grin. Phil threw his head back and groaned, although it morphed into a laugh at the end, and Kristin couldn’t help but join in and laugh as well.

#mcyt #osmp #mcyt fic #osmp fic #philza #osmp philza #mumza #void!kristin #fluff #sage writes

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years ago

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Never a Gull Moment

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 3523

For @yavannie, who wanted Sam to either gain new powers or carry Bucky through the air. Spoiler, I went with both. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Sam’s had an intense first week as Captain America. The perfect opportunity for a break arises when Joaquín contacts him, offering new programming for his suit. All he needs to test the tech are the beach, birds, and one uncooperative bonehead Sam didn’t manage to leave behind in New York.

If there’s one skill Sam’s hoping to adopt from his predecessor—Steve, not Walker (sweet Jesus, not Walker)—it’s the ability to end a conversation with a humble handwave before it can even begin. Steve always had that in the bag. Leading with the wrist in a flick of the hand that came across as both sheepish and respectful. Like he’d love to stop and talk with that fan or this journalist but he was just too busy. And not rude busy, busy with a quiet nobility. Anyway, it all came across in the wave.

Sam hasn’t nailed the wave.

Four days after the GRC vote-that-wasn’t, he’s still in New York, bouncing between TV appearances; everybody wants a piece of the new Cap. Sam wishes they asked a little more about his opinions on compassion for the displaced, as well as those who survived the Snap to form new, functional communities, and less about the look of his new suit, but isn’t it always a battle between style and substance? At least people are listening. To everything except the look Sam knows he has in his eyes, the one that says this debut has been a lot and he’s longing for home.

He knows he has to nail this aspect of being Captain America too. Unfortunately, chuckling amiably with morning show hosts isn’t doing a hell of a lot to distract him from what it took to get him here. There are seconds where his attention wavers—he’ll be nodding along to whatever someone’s saying, or letting his gaze follow a bike courier down the street instead of staying trained on the camera the roving reporter has set up on the sidewalk—and that’s when Karli hurtles into his mind. He feels her desperate blows vibrating the shield, the weight of her body in his arms, in her death.

He can’t keep sitting behind desks or posing impressively and trying to answer the hard questions (on the rare occasion they’re asked) after he’s told people he’s not the expert. When Torres calls up, it’s the close-enough-to-official reason Sam’s been waiting for to step back and do something that actually feels useful.

Bucky, who’s been skulking behind the scenes, somehow never pulled into interviews (if he knows the deferring wave and he’s been doing it just outside Sam’s sightline all week, Sam’s gonna kill him), sticks with him. They head south to meet Torres, and at least that feels like the right direction. Homeward bound. Of course, they stop a handful of states before Louisiana and hug the east coast, but it’s an improvement. They meet Torres at… the beach.

He’s got his foot propped in the open doorframe of a Humvee, giving Sam and Bucky a big, eager, whole-arm wave as they pull up. Not like they’re gonna miss him; Torres is in the only vehicle parked halfway down an unpaved road. Sand dunes climb steep and high just feet from his front bumper, an informal path cutting between the dunes and leading to the water, though Sam can’t see that from this vantage.

Torres’s hand is somehow already grasping Sam’s in a pumping, congratulatory shake before he’s fully out of the car. Sam hears Bucky’s soft snort of suppressed laughter and shoots him a look across the seats. Bucky raises his palms, but Sam spots his smirk before they’re both slamming their doors and stretching their legs after the drive.

“Traffic?” Torres asks brightly.

“Nah,” Bucky answers, coming around the back of their ride. “Sam just drives slower than my grandmother and she—”

“Died on the Titanic?” Sam guesses dryly.

Bucky’s flat stare could be saying a lot of things, or nothing. Sam feels as if he’s been a student of the language of Bucky’s stare for a while now, but his comprehension is still rudimentary. Pop that asshole in a sanctuary for rehabilitated brain-washees, have somebody study his behaviour like Jane Goodall studies chimpanzees, and they might get some answers. The idea starts as something funny Sam almost shares, but then he imagines handfeeding Bucky a banana and it gets weird. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Or she got the cryo treatment too and she’s kickin’ around someplace, speakin’ Russian and makin’ headshots.”

“Come on, man, Hydra jokes about your own grandmother?” Sam scoffs. “That’s not even a little bit funny.”

Torres’s expression is like a kid watching a wrestling match on TV—awed, alarmed, reluctant to question what’s real because he’s just enjoying the show.

Bucky cracks a slow smile and Sam rolls his eyes, slapping Torres’s shoulder to get him to head towards the Humvee and the reason they’re here.

“Nana woulda thought it was funny,” Bucky assures them.

“Nana?”

“Lemme guess… You called your aunt ‘TT,’ so your grandmother’s probably… ‘GG,’ am I right?”

Sam glares at him (because his guess is correct and he’s a pain in the ass) and turns fully to Torres as he opens the back, revealing a large case.

“You were vague on the phone,” Sam recalls, watching Torres tug the case close before undoing the clasps. Bucky leans against the vehicle as he observes, dark pants picking up a swipe of road dust from the dirty taillight. “Something about an update for the suit?”

“Right,” Torres agrees.

He throws the case open to reveal the wings Sam gifted him. They’ve been repaired and Sam automatically strokes a hand over the gleaming, extended metal. If Torres did this himself, he sure worked fast.

“That duffle bag wasn’t good enough for you?” Sam asks jokingly, remembering his gear broken and jumbled, fit to be dragged out with the trash.

“They’re kind my prized possession,” Torres admits. “I thought they deserved to be kept nice.”

“You might even wanna put ’em on sometime.”

“I’m working up to that.” Torres laughs. “I wanted to make sure they were in working order before I jumped off a building.”

“Or out of the back of a plane without a parachute, right, Buck?” Sam asks, smacking the back of his hand into Bucky’s chest.

“I was fine,” Bucky insists.

“Sure you were. We can watch the footage again. I’m up for that.”

“Just let the man finish.”

Torres grants Bucky a wide smile in thanks.

“Yeah,” he picks up, “so I was fixing them, working on the wiring, and when I got the electronics running smoothly again, I started thinking about Redwing—”

“May he rest in pieces,” Bucky contributes.

“Uncalled for,” Sam complains.

“I replaced it, didn’t I?”

“The Wakandans replaced it.”

“As a favour to me.”

Torres’s gaze dances between them until Sam motions for him to continue.

“About Redwing,” Torres goes on enthusiastically. “The sophistication of the relationship between you, how intuitive the tech was. How Redwing understood not just simply-stated commands, but a more conversational approach, interpreting your intentions.”

“Finally, a little Redwing appreciation,” Sam says. He crosses his arms and gives Bucky a meaningful look.

“But what if it was a real bird?” Torres blurts.

Most of a minute passes as Sam stares at Torres’s excited expression.

“I think I might get where Torres is going with this,” Bucky says.

Sam holds up a hand to pause him. He could make a guess at it too, but there’s no need for that. They have the source of whatever alterations have been made right here.

“In your own words, Joaquín,” Sam encourages.

“Well,” he begins, one palm braced in the bed of the Humvee as he leans over the case with unconscious protectiveness, “you know I’ve kinda been itching to get my hands on the wings for a long time.”

“Yeah.” Sam laughs, remembering having to practically slap Torres’s hands away from the jetpack in Tunisia.

“Since you gave them to me a couple weeks ago, I’ve been tinkering, like I said, and I had this idea. Now,” he warns, raising both hands in caution, “this might be either really obvious or really disrespectful to the whole concept of the Falcon, but I started wondering if it’d be possible for the person wearing the wings to talk to nearby birds. Use them like a resource, like with Redwing.”

“Black Panther dresses like a cat with Vibranium claws.”

“Spider-Man has webs,” Bucky adds.

“Right,” Sam agrees, nodding to him before looking back to Torres. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful to lean into the gimmick if it’s amplifying your abilities.”

“Awesome,” Torres pronounces.

“I assume you went further than just wondering about it?”

Torres gives them a modest shrug.

“I know a guy who knows an ornithologist.”

“Bird scientist,” Bucky translates.

Turning his head, Sam glances at Bucky with a no shit look.

“Thanks,” he says insincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

“Long story short,” Torres pipes up, “she got me access to a catalogue of bird calls and the scientific consensus on what they all mean. I patched that info into the suit and, hopefully, it’s something that could be used, uh, on the fly. Sorry, I was trying to think of another way to say that.”

“So my suit would be able to communicate with birds?” Sam checks. “Automatically?”

“Yeah, it would assess your surroundings the same way Redwing does already, but scanning for birds, identifying what kind they are, and having the interpretation of their calls at the ready if needed.”

“What sort of information would I be gaining with this tech?”

“Stuff like… are they feeling threatened or disturbed? Does something feel off about their environment that has something to do with somebody you’re maybe chasing?”

“Mating rituals,” Bucky says.

“How is being able to recognize mating rituals going to help me?” Sam demands.

“You never know.”

“You brought your suit, right?” Torres wants to know. Apparently, he’s not going to bother engaging with Bucky’s nonsense. “It won’t take long for me to install the new software.”

“It’s in the back,” Sam assures him, jerking a thumb towards the other vehicle.

“Great!”

“But just the bird calls. This suit is brand new. No tinkering.”

“No tinkering,” Torres swears.

He sets up his impromptu workshop in the back seat, next to the suit. Sam has to admit to himself that Torres’s reverential expression as he handles the Captain America suit is pretty flattering. He watches the progress until Torres sits back, stating it’ll just be a few minutes for the new programming to be assimilated.

“Why the beach?” Sam asks while they wait.

“I was inspired by some shaky, far-away footage of you in New York. You did, uh, kind of a nosedive into the river there, so I thought maybe you’d be interested in testing your suit’s maneuverability in water at the same time as we did a trial with the bird calls.”

“Are we running a drill or something?” Bucky wonders.

“That’s a good idea,” Torres says immediately. “A scenario to use both the calls and the water.”

“You got something in mind?”

Sam isn’t the one who asks because he can see from Torres’s face that he does. Fortunately, he is the one who gets to laugh when the Lieutenant squints consideringly at Bucky and asks, “How long can you hold your breath?”

—

The last Sam sees of Bucky, he’s taking off his shirt.

“Oh, entire jacket this time?” Torres asked when Bucky took that off first.

After that, it was his shoes and socks, then his t-shirt, and this whole Bucky stripping thing isn’t so much a last look as something that Sam has to stand there witnessing for a while. He’s already in the Cap suit and, seriously, Bucky could’ve changed at the same time. Then, he would’ve been ready to go without making Sam and Torres wait around. But Sam wouldn’t have gotten to see him undress.

“Hurry it up, man.” His voice is a little off because, at the same time, he’s thinking, Please don’t take your pants off.

“If you’re making me play a drowning victim, I can at least not be getting weighed down,” Bucky argues. “This is to help you, right? Quit complaining.”

Finally, he stalks away, mounting the dune in black jeans and a half-assed scowl and disappearing over the top. The plan is for him to swim out, then duck under the water when Torres tells him to (the guy’s brought along waterproof earpieces for the purpose). Next, Sam will fly up and search for the ‘victim,’ relying solely on input from the seagulls wheeling lazily overhead. It’s a good exercise Torres has cooked up.

Sam hands the shield off to Torres for safekeeping before the Lieutenant heads to the beach. The shield won’t be necessary for this and there’s no way in hell Sam’s leaving it in the car. Besides, it’s kinda funny how wide Torres’s eyes go when Sam offers it up. Even bigger reaction than leaving him the wings, though this he doesn’t get to keep.

“On my signal,” Torres restates.

Sam gives him a sharp nod.

Once he’s alone, he paces between the vehicles, eager to kick off the ground. He hasn’t had an opportunity to just enjoy himself in the new suit yet. Leading up to the confrontation with the Flag-Smashers (and Georges Batroc, that fists-of-steel bastard), he was in training mode, focused and determined. In the media-heavy days that followed, he conceded to a few stunts for the camera. Those hadn’t been purely fun though; they were actually something Sam had to think quick and hard about, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t just performing on command but rather giving the public a lighthearted look at their new Captain America. Testing new tech with Bucky, Torres, and a bunch of seagulls? That seems like it’ll actually be a good time.

The instant Torres’s voice in Sam’s ear says, “Bucky’s under,” he unfurls the wings and sails up over the crest of the dune.

It’s not the warmest day and the greenish-blue water’s choppy near the shore, but there is a surprising smattering of people along a quarter mile of beach. Must be locals, Sam guesses, trekking down to the water from nearby houses. That would explain the lack of other cars where he parked. The people aren’t that close or that bothered by his sudden appearance overhead. Startled, sure, but after they’ve identified him (he sees a few hands lifted to foreheads to block out the sun so they can get a good look), he gets to return a couple big waves. Besides that, nobody’s getting to their feet to pound sand and swarm Torres, who’s conspicuously there with Sam—he is holding the shield, after all. Pretty typical. The bigger the crowd, the greater the chance of people scrambling for his attention and/or whipping out their phones to film him. This group seems satisfied with watching Captain America hanging out at their beach on his downtime and Sam appreciates them for that.

“No scanning the water,” Torres says in his ear. Sam laughs.

“I’m not, just assessing our audience here.”

“Is this a bad spot? I didn’t think anybody’d be around when I sent you my location, but—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Did anybody ask you what was up when Bucky waded out into the water?”

“Nah. If they were wondering, they probably aren’t anymore.”

“Glad I won’t have to compete with a lifeguard to rescue him,” Sam jokes.

He hears Torres’s short laugh of agreement before focusing. Not on the water at all, but the birds. Those down on the sand are squawking for food, comfortable enough with these people to complain loudly in the hopes of being fed.

Sam’s sudden swoops scatter the gulls in the air, so he tries easier circles, mimicking their movements to hover high above the beach. Soon enough—these guys either have bad short-term memories or no patience—they start communicating with each other. The new programming Torres has uploaded to his suit signals to Sam that the birds are aware of a disturbance in the water. He gets a target on his goggles’ imaging and dives.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam crashes into the murky water no more than a hundred yards out. The drop-off is dramatic enough for him to not complete a faceplant into a shallow bottom. Bucky’s treading water a couple body-lengths down, but he wrecks his form to offer Sam a raised middle finger in greeting. Sam’s wings retract as he grabs Bucky’s wrist to haul him to the surface.

They breathe, bobbing in place.

“Thought you’d be faster,” Bucky says.

“You didn’t drown, did you?” Sam points out. “Come on.”

He catches hold of Bucky’s hand and shoots out of the water, wings opening in the air to carry him once the thruster’s done its work. But Bucky squirms below him, their wet grip twisting precariously. Water runs from his sopping jeans.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want to be carried to shore!”

“Why?”

“Because dangling this high above the ground feels a little weird to me! Not all of us do this every day!”

“I guess we could run the exercise again.”

“Fine. Let’s do that. Just drop me.”

Sam rewards Bucky’s melodrama by abruptly releasing his grip. Hey, that’s what the idiot asked for, and if he can fall out of a plane to the forest floor, he can plunge into water. It’s not like Sam’s up at aircraft cruising altitude, just high enough to make Torres look like a little action figure army man, standing on the sand in his fatigues.

“Running it again?” Torres wants to know.

“Yep,” Sam tells him, accelerating away from the shore. “Just giving that dumbass time to swim to a new spot.”

“Even though he can’t reply while he’s underwater… you know he can hear you in the comms, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

When Torres lets him know that Bucky’s gone under a second time, they start the drill again. Once more, Sam does a gliding approach to the seagulls. Once more, they go quiet before filling the air with their screaming, overlapping calls. Once more, Sam finds Bucky. He knows he’s quicker this time, so he’s expecting an acknowledgement of that when he contracts the wings, straightens his body, and plummets into the water feetfirst next to where Bucky’s floating below the surface.

Instead of an appreciative nod, an outstretched hand, or even a thumbs up, Bucky darts away from him. Is he trying not to get rescued? Now he’s just fucking up the exercise. Only, Sam can’t even berate him, because he’s still under too, holding his breath as he swims after Bucky. He uses the jetpack for assistance, but Bucky’s a fast swimmer, legs kicking just ahead of Sam. Goddamn human shark.

Because he is not an idiot, Sam surfaces to catch his breath, leaving Bucky somewhere below.

“There a problem?” Torres asks.

“Only with Bucky’s idea of teamwork.”

“Get him like a bird would!”

“Is that a real suggestion?” Sam asks, rising and falling as a small wave swells under him, rolling towards the shore.

“Really, Sam! You know, like how birds hunt fish.” Back on the beach, he makes a sharp, downward gesture with his arm that has Sam chuckling. He gets what Torres means though.

“Alright.”

Sam goes from water to air, then, alerted by a trio of seagulls taking annoyed flight from the surface of the water, goes into a steep dive. Nabbing the swimmer from above is the trick, he learns, when the swimmer is being intentionally uncooperative with the rescue attempt. Bucky might be quick when he knows Sam’s behind him, but when he drops down on him, there’s nowhere Bucky can go. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s bare chest from behind and lugs him up for air.

The first thing Bucky says is, “You took even longer that time.”

Frustrated, Sam splashes the back of his head, but when Bucky strokes his arms out, rotating to face him, he’s smiling.

“You messed it up,” Sam accuses. He rubs a hand across his goggles to smear the water droplets off.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.”

Sam narrows his eyes before a laugh bursts out of him. He can’t help it; it’s the pressure he’s been under, so much internal conflict, suddenly drawn out with the current. Yeah, Bucky was slightly uncooperative, but that’s nothing unusual. Swimming ahead like he was going for a gold medal or forcing Sam to plunge deep after him, the two of them suspended like the goddamn Shape of Water before Sam towed him to the surface—either way, Bucky definitely gave him distinct scenarios to work with. Sam can’t say he doesn’t feel more comfortable now that he’s had some practice. More comfortable with his wings in the water, with working with his feathered allies. With Bucky.

“Still don’t want a lift?” Sam checks.

Bucky’s expression hardens and Sam backs off with a laugh.

“See you on the shore,” Bucky states firmly.

“Alright. Get doggy-paddlin’, White Wolf.”

Sam feels Bucky’s hand shoot out to seize his ankle in retaliation as he launches out of the water, but he’s too slow. Sam’s wings fan wide as he flies up, up, up with the birds.

#my writing #tfatws #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #CAPTAIN AMERICA AND THE WINTER SOLDIER #Sam Wilson #Bucky Barnes #Joaquin Torres #sambucky #Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes

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ofaprilflowers · 4 years ago

Photo

- part 2: home? -

warnings: descriptions of injuries, not too detailed.

tags: shout out to my first-ever requested tags, @sista7-7 @softieus and @marrambles yay! Thank you for reading and sorry for the late update TT. Hope you guys enjoy :)

disclaimers: I am not a medical professional, this is all part of my imagination and totally made-up therefore is in no way accurate. If you find any part I could improve on, do tell. I would appreciate the feedback. Other than that, enjoy! <3

previous/next

It took another week for me to finally be discharged. A week of rehabilitation and physiotherapy (which Dr. Hwang said would be continued after my discharge TT). I had lost strength in my extremities and also my sense of balance. This, I found out after almost falling down right on my face when I attempted to climb out of bed for the first time. Almost, well because thankfully, he was there.

My parents had arrived the night I woke up. My mother immediately cupping my face, tears brimming in her eyes while my father just took my hand in his and smiled every time I looked his way.

It felt surreal, honestly. My family and I were close. But we were not exactly the type to be crying and holding each other, or professing our love for each other. We were the laugh-at-each-other’s-life-problems-cuz-I-had-it-worse-than-you type of family. Then again, for me it felt like I was waking up from a long nap, while for them, they didn’t know whether I would make it or not so, fair enough.

Turns out, the accident was pretty bad. My head had to be stitched up and so now there was a nasty gash above my left eye (it was definitely gonna scar but let’s not think about that right now). My arms where full of cuts and scrapes from the broken windshield. My legs and chest, badly bruised. Dr. Hwang said they had healed fairly well in the past two weeks, but I still cringed at how ugly they looked every time I caught a glimpse. He also mentioned that I was lucky not to have sustained any other serious injuries other than my head trauma. I was grateful of course, but losing my memory was deleterious enough.

I woke up every morning feeling confused as to why the heck I was at a hospital and it took a few groggy minutes to remember. Sometimes it took seeing Jaehyun- either curled up asleep on the armchair or standing next to the window with a cup of coffee in hand- for me to come crashing back into reality.

I learnt through my mother- who had attempted to fit the past 2 weeks of my unconsciousness along with the last 6 years into a 2 day crash-course- that Jaehyun was the only one who stayed at the hospital every day and night. My mother had stayed the first week, as my condition stabilised however, she opted to visiting daily. That also depended on whether my father was available to drive her 45 minutes to the hospital from home. You see, my parents were rational people, but I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of hurt. I mean I was laying unconscious on a hospital bed yet there were still other important stuff to be handled. Well, as they say, life goes on, right? Kind of made me think if I had just hallucinated the tears brimming in her eyes the other day.

While my mother would babble on about looking on the bright side and starting my life again, Jaehyun’s presence was like having a burden be lifted. I know I’ve lived most of our “acquaintence-ship” hating him, but I made a mental note to properly thank him for this in particular. On every occasion that my head felt like it was about to burst from the overwhelming information my mother was flooding me with, he’d interject, naturally bringing her focus to something other than trying to piece me back together. Often times he’d ask her to join him for a cup of coffee, or show her things he was currently working on. I’d close my eyes then and pretend to fall asleep.

“So, you’re saying, I should continue my life ‘as normal as possible’. Meaning?” We (the doctor and I) were currently in his office. By tomorrow morning I was finally leaving. Goodbye to the sanitary, boring hospital, hello to......well, life?

The doctor had explained all the procedures and follow-up appointments that were to come. Both to Jaehyun and I. Then, we talked about going home and that’s when I realised, home had changed. I don’t know how we had avoided addressing it, or maybe I was the only one in denial of it. I mean throughout the week after regaining consciousness, although Jaehyun was there, we barely talked. Mostly because I became a selective mute, and he, well I guess he was respecting my space?

Dr. Hwang had noticed the awkward silence that had passed after he mentioned about going home and quickly changed the subject, calling in a nurse to guide Jaehyun in signing my discharge papers or something. After he left, the doctor didn’t hesitate in putting on what I call his “uncle-face”.

“As normal as possible, meaning that it’s better if you return to your daily routines prior to the accident,” he explained for the nth time.

I fidgeted in my seat. “But, wouldn’t that cause me more distress? It’s a life a barely know.” “Astrid,” he began, straightening his back. “I understand how hard it my be for you to wrap you head around all this. 6 years is a lot. But it is your life. Your experiences and memories throughout that period were real, and you deserve to remember them. You need to give your life a chance.”

Well, damn. He had a point. He should’ve been a therapist instead.

“And, what if my memories don’t come back?” I prodded.

“Well then, at least maybe you’ll learn more about yourself.” Okay, then. Here we go, Astrid.

We live in a loft?!?!

Pretty sure my eyes were bulging out of my head but wow.

Eyes wandering around the space, I tried to take in everything at once. This was certainly NOT what I had expected. This can’t be real right? I must absolutely be dreaming.

“Welcome...home?” Jaehyun said.

My head snapped in his direction, mouth agape. He smiled sheepishly, his infamous dimples popping out, his hands tucked into his jean pockets, his shoulders lifted briefly. He looked like a child, shyly presenting to the world his greatest creation. I almost smiled. Almost.

“You like it?” he asked.

I scoffed. “For real?”

My eyes turned back to the space he had referred to as home. Well, it didn’t feel like home (yet. Remember Astrid we’re giving this a chance), but yes, I absolutely love it!

I took in my surroundings again and this time, couldn’t help the smile that crept up my cheeks.

The space was gorgeous. It was big, but not huge. It was small, but not tiny. It was spacious enough to have everything and more. There was an L-shaped sofa that could probably fit 5 or maybe even 7 people if squeezed in together. There were even 2 more smaller ones in front of it. Perfect for a small gathering. Opposite the living room was a kitchen, with a small kitchen island. God, I’ve always dreamed of having an island. There was another floor and at the stairs leading up to it were ceiling-high windows with a bumped-out seat, all set with pillows on one end and potted plants on the other. It looked like the perfect spot to read or stargaze at night. I walked into the living room, the brick walls were covered in framed movie posters and artwork, some smaller frames containing pictures which I guessed were probably a collection of memories.

I stepped closer and caught a glimpse of some familiar faces in unfamiliar settings. One photo caught my eye. It was a photo I remember, taken earlier this ye- I mean well, early 2017, right after graduation. I was sandwiched between Jungwoo and Ten, holding up a peace sign to the camera. Jaehyun on Jungwoo’s other side, hand around the latter’s shoulders. Others in the picture smiling widely, so many poses, so many expressions. Literally, it felt like yesterday.

“You remember that?” Jaehyun probed.

I smiled. “Yeah, just a couple weeks before Taeil’s birthday bash, right?”

Then, something flickered in my mind. Of Jaehyun, smirking at a table with his friends, of them exchanging words and laughter, of me hearing something I probably shouldn’t have. Jaehyun had many circles of friends, being the typical extroverted, super-friendly campus sweetheart. This circle was one I wasn’t quite familiar with, least to say I didn’t really like them. I felt my cheeks heat up as my blood boiled at the thought of that memory.

“You wanna see upstairs?” Jaehyun’s voice pulled me back into reality. I turned to look at him. He was standing right next to me, looking almost exactly the same as the Jaehyun I knew. The Jaehyun that I couldn’t stand being in the same room with. The Jaehyun that always had a competitive, mischievous glint in his eye. The Jaehyun that would take every chance he got to argue with everything I said. The Jaehyun that made me feel like I had to defend everything I had.

There was a slight difference, though. The competitive, mischievous glint was somehow...softer. It made me confused, because I was angry, but looking at him now, I don’t know who to be angrier at. Me, or him?

“Ummm, I think, I just- I just wanna lie down,” I tore my eyes away from him and took a step back, putting just a little more distance between him and I.

I saw his fists clench and unclench a bit at his sides. A moment passed until he said, “Yeah. Sure,” walking back towards the doors he picked up my hospital bag and gestured towards a room behind him.

“This is actually, um, our bedroom, but don’t worry, I’ve moved most of my stuff upstairs so this space is all yours,” dropping the bags on the bed, he stepped aside to allow me in. It was a beautiful room, with slanted windows, decorated with some more plants.

“So, feel free to look around, get used to the place and all. Oh yeah, um, this is the bathroom,” he opened a door on the left of the room, then gestured toward a closet in front of the bed, “Your pyjamas are in the top drawer and, uh, well, um, everything else is-”

“I’ll take a look,” I smiled at him briefly.

His eyes landed on mine for a moment, then quickly looked away.

“Yeah, okay, so um, I’ll be outside, if you need anything just, um,” his hands, one scratching at the back of his neck, the other gesturing undecidedly, “yeah.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay,” he replied. He stood there for a second, then turned to leave the room.

“Jeahyun?”

“Hmm?” he snapped his head towards me, eyebrows lifted in question.

“Thank you,” I breathed.

I saw a bit of tension leave his body. “You don’t need to thank me, Astrid,” he replied softly. “This is- this is your home too.” With a tight-lipped smile, he closed the door behind him.

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witchhuntress · 1 year ago

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Finally updating my ffnet profile. It’s been on my mind since I decided to really write fanfics again. It took so long, sorry =.=

Idk if anyone here is reading my GH fanfics before, but some news on the following works:

Infinity->finishing Chapter 4 for real for real (it’s been in the works for years sorry TT)

Cloud->have started on Chapter 5 and written snippets here and there but it needs more flesh still. I do already have plans for the cases in the future and I have tons of snippets lol

Reminiscence->Chapters 6-15 have been outlined for revision already many years back but just needed to get on writing/rewriting them sowwiee 😭😭😭

Naru’s Moving Castle->All potential chapters already outlined

Dreams->Yes, yes, this seemed like it was in the mind gutter for so long and I have been too distracted to pick it up again. It might take some more time for me to get back on it (I can only work on so many things 😭), but I did have the decade-long missing chapter outlined so sowweiee >.<

Unwritten->Did I really write this?? Hvhvhg Because I’m such a flighty writer all these years and being taken here and there by my whimsical mind, I forgot this lol What I do have still are random scenes written on tissues for the next chapter.

There are others I will get back to someday. I do try to not stretch myself too thin on anything and I am working on each of these on my own pace. They will all of course undergo heavy edits because I know I suck at English and writing at some points (and I was younger when I started them so🥺) and got some mistakes I didn’t notice till now. I want to tell my fanfics better, so I will come back with more improved writing someday.

Which work will I start? I’m thinking Infinity tbh. Although yes, Moving Castle is possible too (if I find all the snippets I have for it). In any case, I’m excited to update them as much as translating GH stuff!

#ghost hunt stuff #my fanfics

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uwua3 · 4 years ago

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i love your spoiled sakuya hcs and the juza hcs with the baker s/o, they were so adorable!! ♡ can i have hcs for masumi with an s/o who likes to bake too and they're trying to teach masumi how to bake by baking together?

ah, thank you so much!!! your support means the world to me, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my work TT you’re even more adorable!!! for someone who knows nothing about baking, i love sweets too much so i cannot wait to do this prompt :D i hope to make you happy with this ♡

summary: for someone who didn’t eat sweets, masumi sure ate a lot of your baking

author’s note: i loved writing this despite my lack of baking experience TT please enjoy a tsundere! masumi and a reader who is doing their best :D thank you for reading~

word count: 4,121

music: if i could ride a bike – park bird, chevy, the girl i have a crush on – frad

all you need is love... and cookies!

🌸💌 usui masumi

ever since you could remember, you’ve always aspired to be a baker

you were the kid who walked by bakeries and had to push your face against the glass at the sight of pastries. you were definitely the type to admire and double tap every post concerning cute creations just because it made you happy. you filled your mouth with so much sugar, your dentist definitely had to see you every year

so when you proudly shared to the boys you were pursuing baking, you purposely left out the fact you had begged the bakery staff to hire you despite having no experience

(you were really only hired due to your clear passion for anything sweet, but an opportunity was a chance to do even better!)

at first, your part–time shifts at the local veludo way bakery meant you always had extras to take home. but now, you had acquired the position of an amatuer apprentince who spent all their time after school perfecting their craft

professional, well–done masterpieces wrapped in pristine, elegant white boxes became sloppy, edible creations with just as much love, much to the confusion and disappointment of the dorms

so when it became apparent that you weren’t naturally blessed with the talent to be the best baker in the world, it ate away at you ever since you stared back at the collapsed cake across from you (it didn’t take long before you were back on register duty for the day)

you could tell none of the mankai boys truly enjoyed your food when they couldn’t even force themselves to finish it (not even juza)

this meant you had practically taken over the limited space the kitchen offered to practice even more, focusing on exact measurements and mixtures just to mess up every single time

you were this close to giving up and binging bake–offs on tv to feel even more insecure of your abilities before you noticed something out of the ordinary this time

crouching down to look at the open fridge, you smiled despite the flour staining your apron and sugar you accidentally wiped across your forehead

the cupcake you made yesterday... that was nearly toppled over with uneven amounts of icing, perhaps your worst invention yet, was gone

did this mean... someone ate it?

you were about to close the door, before you noticed there was a note left instead in the place of the missing dessert

“you did a good job. don’t give up.”

your heart swelled with pride once you realized someone in the dorms genuinely believed in your skill. you squealed and performed a celebration dance in the middle of the kitchen, jumping up and down from the praise

you picked your head up and fixed the baker’s hat that was about to fall off, before turning the paper around and noticing something scrawled on the back

“you can’t substitute butter for cream cheese, you know.”

you blinked before reading it again, feeling a light bulb above your head. attempting the recipe you just failed with a new sense of determination, you realized you did mix up the yellow ingredients

oh... whoops!

(you were so involved and dedicated to your work that you didn’t notice a black–haired boy lean against the door frame for a second with a slight smile before leaving)

from then on, you didn’t give up, just like the note told you to!

every time you made a new product, you expected it to be gone the next time you took a break from the kitchen. you began enjoying the process more than anything, following recipes exactly with few, minimal errors

it helped every time the person who finished eating your dessert left truthful, straightforward reviews on the back of their praise! somehow, they always knew what went wrong and genuinely assisted you in trying again and again

your effort paid off! slowly but surely, you were able to make your favorites presentable, tasty, and worthy of sharing with others! the better you got, the more optimistic your attitude became—you could do this, you got this!

quitting was a thing of the past now, how could you give up when you’ve come this far? you knew you couldn’t have done it without that one fateful note from your first customer

the mankai dorm noticed your renewed energy at your passion and slowly reaped the benefits. you would put aside one of every creation of yours for the mystery critic, but offered the rest to the boys as a way to thank them for their continous support (even if it wasn’t through eating in the beginning)

yet, as you took the trey of muffins from the oven early in the morning to prepare quick breakfast for the actors, you frowned at the thought of one boy: masumi

no matter how many times you tried, masumi wouldn’t eat your food. it didn’t matter if you wrote his name on it with icing or specifically made a treat based on his favorite flavor, he wouldn’t take it. he’d barely glance at you with a resounding “no” in front of everyone before slipping his headphones back on

it was truly an awkward sight to behold. a quiet, seemingly annoyed teenage boy coming home late from a long day of school and an discouraged part–time baker still in their academy uniform and apron, holding a platter of something good, mind you!

as you individually wrapped each muffin and wrote each person’s name on a sticky note before moving on to pack boxed lunches for the high school students (yourself included), you hesitated on masumi’s before deciding to take that one and leave it for your secret food reviewer

if he wasn’t going to enjoy it, at least someone would

as everyone began waking up, you let out a sigh of relief after laying out all the food you prepared the day of organized by name. all in a day of hard work and the endless compliments from the sleepy kids and appreciative adults made it all worth it

for some reason, as masumi walked inside the kitchen with his headphones already on, you unintentionally let out a disappointed sigh as he walked past your beautiful display. not even a look, did he not like you?

(you strangely felt disappointed from the thought of masumi not liking you, you wanted him to see you as a friend)

after having breakfast together, you left with the high school boys, animatedly discussing whatever homework you guys had (which taichi never finished as he begged for answers) and upcoming classes

on the way out, maybe if you weren’t challenged by banri to see who could sprint to the end of the street the fastest, you would’ve noticed how masumi lingered behind to grab a snack. he opened the refridgerator to take a specific one, just for him

the mankai boys liked meeting up with each other at the local park once the final bell rang just to update each other on how the day went on the way home, but you always had bakery duty right after, rushing out of the doors to wave goodbye to your friends

“thank you for the lunch!” they thanked you again gratefully, wishing you well as you two went your separate ways. masumi was always at the back of the crowd and avoided looking your direction, moving on without a single word

as masumi led the way to pick up muku and yuki, sakuya walked by his side with a curious glance towards his blazer jacket. without warning, sakuya reached out to brush something off his collar

“sorry, masumi–kun! you had... crumbs?” sakuya trailed off quietly, noticing how masumi’s face was slowly becoming red. anyone would’ve missed it, but not his own observant best friend

when sakuya connected the dots on why masumi didn’t eat lunch with him and banri, he simply just hummed a sound of acknowledgement before joining in on the lively conversation between the o high boys

masumi turned his music volume up without looking at anyone, not seeing sakuya’s quiet smile

masumi didn’t even like sweets that much, but he ate the muffin? sakuya thought before eventually getting distracted by tenma, who nudged him with a concerned look

it wasn’t him he should be worried about, what about masumi?! sakuya turned before doing a full 360 with wide eyes. he rapidly looked both ways before grabbing tenma’s shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed

“tenma! did you see where masumi went?”

“oh, he said he had class or something?”

“class? for what?”

you finally clocked out for your shift, hanging your apron back up on the wall of hooks as you placed your name tag back with your uniform. before you could leave, you heard someone call for you to come back

oh no... were you... in trouble?! you gulped, turning on your heel to come face to face with your boss, who’s expression remained strict and stoic as ever. this was it, you were going to get fired and goodbye culinary school—

“rookie, you did good,” your boss started and you felt like you were on a sugar rush. did renowned, highly experienced head baker of the whole establishment just compliment you? before you could pass out from the praise in front of everyone, he continued

“but not great.”

oh. you were about to collapse, but for a completely different reason now. of course you weren’t that good...

“but good enough for this.” he passed to you a flyer with a ticket before leaving, not bothering to check your reaction. he was always like that, a man of a few words, it reminded you of mas—

wait, teaching a baking class?

you paused, bringing the paper closer to your eyes as you skimmed the headline and details beneath the cute promotional doodles decorating the design

the community center was holding a local baking class this evening (taught by employees of your own bakery!). it seemed like it was aimed at every person in any possible demographic with the large, easy–to–read font for the elderly and childish drawings for the youth

you wondered why you hadn’t heard of it before, putting the ticket in front of you to see your name and your lucky number on the pass. how coincidental, maybe this was a sign you should go

you looked up at the sound of someone clearing their throat in front of you. your boss suddenly seemed much less intimidating but more... fatherly? he ruffled your hair and attempted a smile (it looked more like a grimance, but you appreciated the effort)

“you love baking, right? have fun, get some training in.” you grinned and forced him into a hug. “thank you!” you responded, squeezing him tightly and ignoring how you were this close to being put on the early bird rotation

“get off me before i fire you.”

“yes, chef!”

when you put back on your baker’s apron and travelled with the rest of the staff to the community center to help set up, you were practically bouncing with uncontrollable energy in the back seat as you watched the evening lights turn on throughout the town

this was a sign! you had improved so much, you got promoted to teaching a community baking class because you’ve made it that far! nothing could ruin this!

or, so you thought

when you perfectly laid out the set of ingredients and utensils ready for each station, you glanced at the list at your side to see who your partner would be

as you read down the columns, you were internally hoping maybe for a sweet, wise grandmother who carried candy in her vintage purse. or, even an enthusiastic, blabbering child whose parents watched on from the side with maternal pride and love. anyone, really!

you hummed to the tune of some family friendly music from the radio, the bright yellow lights illuminating the makeshift kitchen as you somehow ignored the team’s volleyball practice happening upstairs

you followed your finger on the paper, landing on your name with a smile. yet, the look on your face completely disappeared as you double–checked to make sure it was yours

the name besides yours was blank? while others signed their full names, your partner either didn’t exist or had no alias to go by

“chef?” you asked your boss, causing him to look up from the front of the room with a blank expression. right... he was still your scary head pastry chef that definitely had multiple chances to fire you at this point

“um... how come the name for my station is blank?” you nervously questioned from his soulless stare before he rubbed his forehead with a sigh, as if burdened to actually think this time. then, he snapped his fingers together so suddenly you were startled

“there’s a kid who’s been going here for a while now, but he never tells us his name. you got him tonight.”

wow, that was the most the boss ever spoke to you, or in general

“do i make myself clear, rook?”

“yes, chef!”

you didn’t dare question him any further, just obediently wiped down your glistening metal table and avoided his harsh hawk eyes at any time possible

when the clock hit 8pm, you giddily tried your best not to hop up and down as you watched people stream into the kitchen. most were regulars, you noticed as the team happily greeted their typical partners

luckily, the list of attendees had increased so you were now a certified local teacher to the public. you tried to look the part and not smile too wide, hiding your obvious excitement at the new role. you glanced around with an eager look, trying to locate the kid your boss referred to earlier

“are you looking for your partner?” your co–worker randomly asked, walking up to you out of no where. you blinked multiple times, trying to see if they were talking to you before confirming they were, smiling nervously from the rare interaction

“yeah, i’m really excited!” you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck as you kept your eyes on the door. your co–worker nodded, waiting for their guest as well as they leaned against the wall, crossing their arms casually

“you should be. he’s a real natural at all this, you know, despite doing it for such a short time.” they commented, not saying any more once they waved to their partner coming in. you turned towards their retreating figure, about to ask for more information before you felt someone move next to you, their eyes trained on your back intensely

right, nothing could ruin this for you, not even—

your eyes widened and you nearly dropped the whole mixing bowl you had been playing with

—masumi

masumi blinked, before spinning around to quickly try to make his way out of the room. you didn’t think before you acted, impulsively latching onto his black jacket sleeve and wincing at his sneakers skid to a stop on the floor

“listen, i know you don’t like me, but—” you mumbled, feeling less confident by the second the more he stared at you over his shoulder. it was the first time he had his headphones off for more than a minute around you, you didn’t know what to say to someone you barely knew

“you think i don’t like you?” masumi spoke for once, his deep voice shocking you but his words were an even bigger surprise. you were about to respond before the head chef began class, your boss ordering everyone to get ready or be left behind

(a few lighthearted chuckles travelled throughout the room but you shuddered internally, knowing boss wasn’t joking)

masumi seemed to debate between leaving and embarrassing you completely in front of your staff or staying to endure a painful, awkward two hours with you before he sighed, putting on his own apron without looking at you once

you didn’t have anything to say, maintaining the large distance between you two with a frown

maybe one thing, or person, could ruin this for you... how did he end up being your partner?!

as head chef went around to introduce the recipe for tonight, you didn’t know what to do. you had never talked to masumi one on one, he usually hung back with sakuya or trailed after izumi seeking validation. what could you say to someone who supposedly didn’t care for you at all?

when chef let the groups start, you picked up the cookie recipe and thanked whoever was listening it was something you could make in your sleep. you were about to start before masumi peered over your shoulder, trying to read with you

right, you had to work together with masumi or else you’d be the worst teacher ever

you slid the paper to the middle of the table, reading the first step out loud and masumi was already on it, moving to preheat the oven to 375 degrees without hesitation

you stopped, looking at him with slight shock once again. he was strangely good at taking orders without questioning a thing, you thought he would’ve given you at least some attitude

(maybe, he wasn’t as mean as you thought he was)

he returned, flicking the highlighted black hair out of his face with an unreadable look to his eyes. he waved his hand in front of your face, breaking your haze as you blushed from getting caught staring

“what’s next?” masumi bluntly asked, and you were quick to focus again and immediately went into your professional mode, missing the way masumi admired your dedication before pretending he was getting busy

without wasting time, masumi was whisking white flour, salt, and baking soda in a small bowl while you were consistently swirling a cup of butter over a saucepan, both of you working oddly well together without much words needing to be exchanged

huh... maybe he wasn’t all that bad. of course masumi was a good baker, what wasn’t he great at?

yet, you didn’t think he liked it. he didn’t eat too much sugar to begin with, what made him want to learn how to bake in the first place?

“i haven’t seen you teach here before.” masumi said, trying to start the conversation. you did a double take, wondering if he was serious or just plain condescending before you shrugged, keeping your eyes on the butter

“chef wanted me here for the first time tonight.” you awkwardly responded, feeling the tense silence in the air even as other stations around you loudly chatted with one another. masumi nodded, seemingly paying attention even as he whisked with precision you wished you had

“must mean you’ve become a good baker.” masumi replied and you couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the note you were going to come home to in the fridge

“hopefully.” you simply said, trying not to sound bitter as you didn’t let the rest of your sentence leave your mouth. you wanted to ask how masumi would know that if he hadn’t even tried any of your pastries, but you didn’t want to start anything

when the butter browned, you moved it to a heatproof bowl and continued the process, cutting up small blocks of butter again to add it to the brown butter

masumi looked over your shoulder again with a hum of approval (you deny ever feeling a sense of pride swell in your chest) before going back to his task, mumbling something that made you freeze in your steps

“looks like you didn’t mix up the butter and cream cheese this time.”

your breath hitched as you gripped the bowl, eyes wide as your thoughts ran a mile a minute. masumi picked up on your stillness, turning to ask if you were okay before you whipped around to look him in the eyes

“what?” you breathed out as masumi looked any where but you. before you could continue to interrogate him, you felt a looming presence behind you with a familiar bark

“rook! get back to work or go home!”

you and masumi quickly got back to your positions, already scared by your chef’s loud booming voice as you two did your jobs with fear as your motivation

“yes, chef!” you called out, masumi following your example as you two followed the recipe perfectly, even as you snuck in a glance at him every time you thought he wouldn’t notice

when you pushed the parchment–lined baking sheet into the oven and closed it gently, you took a moment to breathe in and out, trying to process the exposed truth that was between you two now

you couldn’t believe it: masumi was your first “customer” ever. he was the one who encouraged you to keep baking with genuine praise and heartfelt comments about what you did right. he helped you improve with useful criticism on things you did wrong and furthered your growth as a baker. without having him, you wouldn’t even be here

but you couldn’t help but think, why?

why did he want to help you? you thought he didn’t actually like you... did he want to be, your friend?

(maybe, even more?)

you jumped up and nearly hit your head on the oven bar, making masumi hurry to your side with a slightly startled expression. you were about to apologize before he laid his hand against your head, unintentionally coming closer, concerned about why your face was so red

you barely managed to get out the excuse about the heat from the oven, but you knew he doubted it as he slowly nodded and stepped back. you followed him back to your table to clean up, but you couldn’t keep it together with the rapid beat of your heart and permanent blush on your cheeks

did... did you like masumi?

was that why you were so disheartened every time you offered sweets and he didn’t take any? is that why you always made an effort to be friends with the mysterious student before eventually giving up when he didn’t respond? oh my god, did you always like him this way?

you turned to look at him again but this time, he was already staring at you. you were about to run and hide forever from the embarrassment before your co–worker from before showed up, recognizing masumi and greeting him like they were best friends

“i see you’ve met the kid. he looks mean but once you get to know him—” they reached up to knock their fist against masumi’s head fondly, ignoring the way masumi grumbled dramatically about his hair, “he’s a real sweetheart.”

you forced an awkward laugh before going back to cleaning, noticing how your co–worker kept going on, missing the way you were acutely eavesdropping on the conversation

“you impress that person, yet?” they joked, to which masumi silently glared at them to shut up. they didn’t whatsoever

“come on, you’ve had to at this point! what kind of guy takes baking classes just to help their crush?”

beep! the oven sounded, causing you to rush over to escape the discussion. it was all coming together and it didn’t take long before you connected the dots on what’s been happening the past few months

when you came back with your glove mitts on, you placed the trey down and let the cookies cool down, standing side by side to admire you and masumi’s creation

as masumi opened his mouth to compliment the work, like he always did, you beat him to it

“... you like me.” you dropped out of no where. cue the silence, again. it was like this whole bonding exercise didn’t even happen, you could feel masumi about to tug on his headphones. yet, you kept talking and saying all the things you’ve always wanted to tell him

“you ate my food every day, even if you don’t like desserts that much, because you like me.”

quiet, again. he wasn’t saying no, he couldn’t say you were wrong because you were right

“you took baking classes to help me, because you like me.”

you wanted to be more than friends with masumi, you knew that now, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he still felt the same way

you got your answer when masumi picked up a cookie and split it into two evenly, offering the other half to you with a flustered appearance, like this was his confession

you took the cookie and knew, this was the start of something sweet

(“hey, finish cleaning already, rookie! i don’t pay you to be in love with your boyfriend!”)

(“yes, chef!”)

you received the first note with masumi’s name written at the end

“we should bake together again.”

#usui masumi #masumi usui #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #masumi x reader #a3! masumi #a3 masumi

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choicesfanatic86 · 4 years ago

Text

Almost: Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: All characters belong to Pixelberry Studios, except characters unique to my story. Those belong to me. ;)

PAIRINGS: Liam x Riley (MC)

SUMMARY: Riley Lawson didn’t believe in second chances, until one night a face from her past makes a shocking reappearance in her life.

Permanent Tag List: @umccall71 @drakelover78 @jamielea81 @bobasheebaby @speedyoperarascalparty @hopefulmoonobject @theroyalweisme @gardeningourmet @jlouise88 @hamulau @traeumerinwitzhelden @blackcatkita @mrs-simmy @kaitycole @alwaysthebestchoice @mfackenthal @trr-duchessofvaltoria @pbchoicesobsessed @liamxs-world @flyawayblue56 @devineinterventions2 @ranishajay @jayjay879 @alepowell @greyeyedsmile14 @mspaigemoore @princesaakl @annekebbphotography @gibbles82 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30

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Need to catch up? Check out my Master List.

06/08/2020 - Ahhh here it is! A long awaited updated. I’m always so busy, but with summer starting and some much needed vacation days on the horizon, I’m updating everything. If Only & TTS will be coming along shortly. :)

Thank you! As always if you want to be tagged, send me a message!

Chapter 7

It didn’t take long for Riley to jump into action when Liam agreed to her offer to see the Statue of Liberty. She started to text furiously on her phone, and when she wasn’t getting a response quick enough, she resorted to actually calling up the friends she knew would still be up at that hour. After all, she lived in the city that never slept, and a good chunk of her friends were in line with that mentality. At first it seemed like she wouldn’t have any luck making her plan happen, but eventually one of her friends pulled through. Matt Dennison had owed her a favor from ages ago. She had never expected to actually stake a claim on said favor, but here she was at some god awful hour staring at the boy that had stolen (and ultimately broken) her heart eight years ago, and all she wanted to do was make his dream come true. So, desperate times called for desperate measures and she had absolutely no qualms about waking Matt up from his beauty sleep.

Matt was a frequent patron of the bar, and he and Riley had struck up a bit of a friendship. He was a lot nicer than a lot of the regulars, because he never tried to make any sort of pass at her. That in and of itself had won him a bunch of brownie points. One night last October, an out of towner had come into the bar already reeking of alcohol. Daniel had refused to serve him the three tequila shots he had ordered because he couldn’t bring himself to serve the guy any more alcohol when he had already stumbled into the bar clearly intoxicated. The out of towner didn’t take too kindly to being told no and started to scuffle with another patron, sucker-punching the guy in the stomach for no apparent reason. Seeing this, Matt tried to intervene. His Good Samaritan behavior landed him with a black eye and a set of handcuffs. It didn’t matter who did what, when the cops had shown up; everyone got taken in, leaving Matt in a very serious bind. He had no money to post bail, and everyone he thought would come through hadn’t even returned his calls. Riley swung by the jail at the end of her shift in the hopes of explaining things to the arresting officers. She was an eye-witness after all, but no one wanted to take her statement. She couldn’t see Matt spending the night in jail, so she decided to come to his rescue. She bailed him out and posted the thousand dollar fee without even spending a second to think about it. Ever since then, he had been eternally grateful to her. A month later, he paid her back in full plus interest and told her that if she ever needed anything, he’d make it happen for her. She had brushed the comment off, never really intending to take him up on her offer, but tonight . . . tonight she was ready to cash in.

Matt owned a small boating business that offered tours of the harbor. It was a great way to get some pretty nice scenic photographs of the New York City skyline. His business wasn’t at all like the fancy ferry lines that also ran their own tours out of the docks, but Matt’s tours were a whole lot more inspirational and weren’t the cookie-cutter spiels that the other ferries tried to sell. It also helped that he didn’t price gouge the hell out of the tours that he sold. So, although he wouldn’t be a multi-millionaire anytime soon, he did all right for himself. He had always offered to take Riley on a free tour . . . but he probably never meant for it to be well after midnight. Regardless, he had come through for her, and was on his way to the docks to take them to see Lady Liberty in all her glory.

“Ha!” She exclaimed giddily. “You’re in luck,” she beamed, a large grin forming on her lips. “My friend Matt is going to help us out,” she explained. “The thing is . . . we’re going to have to walk . . .” she said hesitantly. “It’s about a twenty minute trek to the docks. Think you can handle that,” she looked down at his dress shoes.

“Perhaps I should be asking you that question,” he motioned to her high heels. “This isn’t the easiest terrain to take a hike on,” he reasoned. “Especially in those,” he pointed out.

“I’ll be fine,” she said confidently, brushing off his concern. “I’m a New Yorker, remember? Walking around in heels is a thing here,” she chuckled.

Liam glanced back briefly at his friends. They were still entirely wrapped up in what they were doing. They didn’t even seem to notice that Liam and Riley had wandered off on their own.

“Do you think they’ll be angry that I left without telling them?” He asked hesitantly.

Riley took a quick peek behind her shoulder. She didn’t know them well enough to say either way, but based off of the earlier conversation that she had with Drake, this was definitely something that Liam needed to do – regardless of whether or not his friends would be angry with him. He needed to put himself first for once in his life, especially if, for whatever reason, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to come to New York again. She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure they’re having a grand old time without you,” she murmured.

Liam’s eyes shifted to their direction once more. Riley could see the hesitation building in his eyes. He was having second thoughts about the whole thing, and she couldn’t let that happen. “Hey . . . don’t look so guilty,” she nudged his shoulder playfully. “You wanted to see the Statue of Liberty, and it’s going to happen,” she assured him. “Besides, if they get antsy and want to head back to the hotel, you left the car with them. You can always meet back with them later if they’re still on the whole party roll,” she reasoned.

Liam nodded, finally pulling his gaze away from them. “You’re right. I should take full advantage of the fact that this is my last night in New York . . . and . . . well I’ll have more responsibilities after I go back, so maybe it won’t be so bad being a little selfish tonight,” he said simply.

Riley pondered his words thoughtfully for a moment. Oh right, he was getting married. He wouldn’t just be able to hop on a plane on a whim. He’d have a wife’s opinion to consider. She thought on his words again, and she couldn’t help but think that he was giving his words served more as a confidence booster for him to actually go through with it he was trying to rationalize his decision to take her up on her offer. The Liam she knew in Germany would never turn down an adventure, so it was a bit surprising to see him behave so cautiously. She supposed getting older and being swamped down with more responsibilities had changed his outlook a bit. It was strange to think that over the years she had become more adventurous and outgoing. She supposed that it was her time with him in Germany that had really allowed her to branch out and experience new things.

“Exactly,” she agreed.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. She could feel his gaze wander over her a few times as they walked, and she briefly wondered what was running through his head as they walked together side by side.

“So, why did you stay in New York?” He asked, trying to engage her in small chit-chat.

“What do you mean?” She looked back at him.

“Well . . . you weren’t always a New Yorker, right? If I remember correctly, you were from Virginia?” He said thoughtfully. “Or was it New Hampshire,” he said uncertainly.

“West Virginia,” she corrected him. She licked her lips anxiously. “It just wasn’t home anymore,” she shrugged. “I made a life for myself here,” she responded simply.

“Right. West Virginia,” he nodded. “How are your parents doing? Did they end up moving out to New York, too?”

Riley stiffened at the mention of her parents. They had a falling out shortly after she came back to the States from Germany. She had been devastated after everything that happened there, and she had hoped that going home and spending time with her family would help her clear her head, pull the shambles of her life together, and figure out where to go from there . . . but it hadn’t. Instead, she came home to judgment and disappointment, and she felt her life fall apart all over again.

“We don’t talk anymore,” she shrugged, becoming a bit uncomfortable.

Liam’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t?” He paused for a moment, trying to formulate the right words. “I’m sorry. You were always so close to them,” he said, a look of regret in his eyes. “Did something happen?”

Riley frowned. She hadn’t intended for the conversation to stray in this direction. It wasn’t something she was necessarily ready or willing to talk about. “We had a disagreement about my life choices,” she said vaguely. “I did what I thought was best, and they didn’t agree with me,” she shrugged. “Case closed,” she said coldly.

Liam studied her carefully. She hated the way he was analyzing her. She knew he could probably sense that she was keeping something from him, but in that moment, she just couldn’t bring herself to get into things right then and there.

“I just find it so odd that you wouldn’t be in contact with them,” he frowned. “You spoke with them nearly every single day while we were in Germany . . .” he trailed off.

“Well, Germany was a long time ago, Liam,” she said a bit shortly. She started to feel tears form in her eyes. He was right. She had been exceptionally close to her parents, especially her mother. It killed her to not have a relationship with them, especially after everything she had been through. She just couldn’t bring herself to forgive them after everything that was said and done.

She turned to Liam, ready to tell him to just back off and drop the issue about her parents, but when she met his gaze, she saw the concern in his eyes. She bit her lip. He was worried about her. Even after all this time, there was still a part of him that wanted to make sure she was all right. She debated letting everything that was on her mind flood out from her right then and there, but she knew that once she spilled her heart out to him, there would be no taking the words she said back. She’d likely never see him again after tonight. So why should she bother? What good would it do except to stir up unnecessary pain and heartache of something that had long happened years ago?

He slumped his shoulders a bit, the concern never leaving his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to upset you,” he said quietly.

She shrugged. Her family was a sensitive issue. He was right. They had been exceptionally close. Her parents had always been wonderful . . . until, well, they weren’t. She remembered the screaming battle they had when she had gone back to West Virginia. Her life had changed so much in a few short months, and they couldn’t understand that she was her own person . . . who was able to make her own decisions. The life she had decided to lead didn’t correlate with the live they had envisioned for her.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m at odds with my family as well,” he sighed.

“Not speaking to them?” She asked in surprise. Liam had always spoken very highly of his parents. He admitted that they were a bit overprotective, but she had never gotten the feeling that things were strained between them.

“Oh no, we’re speaking . . . let’s just say that it’s all . . . an act,” he sighed wearily. “I play my part, and hell doesn’t get raised,” he said vaguely.

“That sounds like there’s a story there,” she commented. Her curiosity was piqued. Just moments ago she had wanted him to butt out of her personal affairs, yet here she wanted to know about his own rift with his parents.

“You have no idea,” he sighed as he tried to keep pace with her. “So whatever happened with your parents may be minuscule compared to what I’ve been dealing with my father and Regina,” he sighed in frustration.

Riley snorted. “I doubt that.” She sighed, letting the topic drop. Talking about her parents always put her in a foul mood, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Liam now felt the exact same way about his parents. “We’re here,” she motioned to the rickety dock in front of her.

He looked at her in surprise. “Really? That didn’t take too long . . . this doesn’t really look like an actual dock area,” he said as he looked around.

“That’s because it’s not,” she explained. “Well, it used to be, but no one ever really uses it anymore. This is one of my favorite spots in the city,” she said quietly as they waited for Matt to show up. The dock overlooked he entire city’s skyline. Over time, newer docking areas were built on the opposite side of the river, and boats started to frequent the newer docking stations. The older docks sort of just got left behind. Riley gazed out into the night sky - the different towers were all lit against darkness. There was faint music playing in the background from one of the yachts off in the distance. It was actually a really nice spot to just think. Riley supposed that’s why she had enjoyed it so much. Because no one really used the dock anymore, there wasn’t really all of the hustle and bustle like the main dock areas.

“I can see why you like it so much,” he said, gazing out into the sky. “The view is spectacular.”

She nodded in agreement.

“Now what?” He asked, looking around.

“We wait,” she said simply.

“For?”

“A magical boat I’ve summoned just for you,” she smiled. “Just enjoy the moment, will you? The old Liam would have embraced every second of this adventure so that he could remember everything about it,” she said.

“Yeah, well the old Liam also learned that sometimes being adventurous can lead to loads of trouble,” he sighed. “The new Liam tends to err on the side of caution nowadays.”

“That’s too bad,” she said sullenly. “Old Liam was a pretty fun guy,” she said nostalgically. “So . . . what made you want to see the Statue of Liberty? You talked a lot about it back then, but I don’t think you ever told me why you wanted to visit it so much.”

He shrugged lightly. “You of all people should know why.”

She arched her eyebrow in question. “What do you mean?”

“She represents something that I so desperately want,” he sighed.

She looked at him curiously. “Freedom?” She guessed.

He nodded sullenly.

She furrowed her forehead in confusion. “And why would you want freedom, Liam?”

He stuffed his hands in his pocket, his eyes gazing out onto the skyline. “It’s not easy when your life is under a microscope,” he explained.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Riley said as she stepped closer to him.

“The life I lead is under constant scrutiny. Every decision . . . every action may reflect poorly on myself and my family. Something I’m never allowed to forget no matter how badly I might want to,” he said sadly.

“Liam . . .I’m sorry . . . I didn’t know things were that difficult for you,” she cleared her throat. “That sounds awful,” she reached out placing her hand lightly on his shoulder. “It must be difficult for your fiancé to live that sort of life, too,” she commented.

There eyes meet for a lingering moment, before Liam tears his gaze away. “Riley, I – “

The horn from the boat blares, and a man dressed in worn overalls and a torn up hat waves haphazardly at them from the side. The moment between them wanes as Matt pulls the boat as closely to the dock as possible

“Riley!” He called out to her. “When I said I owe you one, this wasn’t what I had I mind,” Matt chuckles loudly. “Leave it to you to call someone at one o’clock in the morning. I had to refuel and everything,” the man bellowed.

Liam’s words became forgotten as Riley snapped back into high gear remembering the mission set before them. “I know! You’re the only one who picked up,” she shrugged. “I know this is a bit . . . unusual . . . but my friend here leaves tomorrow and he’s never seen Lady Liberty. We’re hoping you can make that happen for him?” She asked.

“Of course I can make it happen,” he smiles broadly. “Just wish we were doing this a tad bit later in the morning than one o’clock,” he laughed. He started to pull down a plank onto the deck so that Riley and Liam could board the ferry.

“Is that?” Liam looked at her with concern.

“Our ride,” she nodded.

Liam looked at the large, rickety ferry, his face turning into a frown. “Are you sure he’s reputable?” He looked at Matt and the ferry with skepticism. “I mean . . . I hear the horror stories about these sorts of situations that go awry,” he whispered. “I have a . . . thing about boats,” he trailed off.

“Beggars can’t be choosy, Liam. Besides, I know Matt looks a bit rough around the edges, but he’s a decent guy . . . Just don’t think about how it all looks . . . push that aside and think about the bigger goal . . . you want to see Lady Liberty don’t you?”

“Well, yes,” he nodded. “I just didn’t imagine it would be on this sort of vessel.”

“It’s now or never, Liam. You leave tomorrow. Who knows if you’ll ever make it back to see her,” she motioned behind her. “Do you really want to live with the regret of not having at least tried? What if your wife doesn’t want to travel to the States? Or if you have kids right away? This could be your last shot to ever see something as grand as the Statue of Liberty. Are you really going to let the shape of Matt’s boat turn you around?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I suppose not,” he admitted.

“Excellent,” she beamed. Hop on. You’re about to see Lady Liberty in all her glory.”

As Riley and Liam boarded, Matt pushed the ferry into high gear. “Hang on, guys. Next stop, the Statue of Liberty.”

They stood on the edge of the ferry, and after ten minutes of not so smooth sailing, they could see the Statue of Liberty gleaming out in the distance.

“Wow,” Liam murmured.

“Aren’t you glad you decided to take a chance?” Riley chuckled as her own gaze lingered over the majestic beauty of the statue.

He nodded, his eyes never straying from the sight of Lady Liberty in all her glory. “She’s amazing,” he murmured.

“Isn’t she?” Riley sighed, she too couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the sight of her.

The boat neared closer and closer to the statute’s base, and Liam’s smile was absolutely blinding. He pulled his cell phone out, snapping different photos at different angles. He was acting as if he’d never see it again.

Riley paused with the thought. That very well could be true. After all, she had said the very words to him only moments ago. What if he never did come back to New York? Let alone back to America? Whatever it was that waited for him back home seemed like an anchor. At least, that’s how he seemed to describe it. Life under a microscope? She couldn’t imagine spending every single day of her life worrying about what other people were thinking about her choices. It made her wonder why Liam’s life was like that. Had he been some sort of celebrity back home? Riley watched him with intrigue as Liam happily gazed up at the towering beauty. For a brief moment, she saw the carefree Liam she had fallen for back in Germany. She didn’t see the boy who broke her heart and left her without even a single word. Instead, she saw a man, so bogged down with secrets and troubles that such a simple thing like seeing the Statue of Liberty brought him so much joy. She almost felt sorry for him. How troubled was his life that he couldn’t even steal a few moments of enjoyment for himself back home?

“I didn’t think you could pull this off. I should have known better,” he let a small chuckle escape as he turned to face her.

Riley snapped out of her thoughts. “What do you mean?” She looked at him a bit puzzled.

“Admittedly, I may have had some skepticism about this whole thing working,” he smirked. “Especially when I saw the state of his . . . . boat,” he cringed looking around.

“It floats,” she chuckled. “And it’s given you the chance to see your life-long dream,” she eyed him. “Be grateful,” she chuckled, nudging his side slightly.

“I am,” he held his hands up. “I just . . . well, I suppose I haven’t done anything this . . . impulsive in quite some time,” he mused. “It feels odd.”

“Yeah . . . tonight is full of impulsivity for you,” she smirked.

Liam burst out in a hearty laugh. “Says the girl who doesn’t have an impulsive bone in her body.” He rolled his eyes jokingly.

The playfulness in his tone caught Riley off guard. Riley feigned offense. “I’ll have you know I’ve done tons of impulsive things in my life. You haven’t seen me in eight years,” she pointed out.

“I suppose . . . I guess I have a hard time reconciling the you now with the you back then,” he shrugged.

She looked up at him, completely understanding what he meant, and nodded.

“Hey . . . “ he said a bit excitedly. “Do you remember back in Germany when you tried to convince me that you were a rebel? You told me about this time when you were in high school and you held a protest against your schools’ science program because one of the teachers scheduled an assignment to dissect a rat?”

Riley’s face flushed in embarrassment. “Of all the things to remember, that is something you bring up?” She sighed heavily. “Hey, don’t judge me for the stupidity of my youth,” she forced a chuckle, but the embarrassment was still going strong. “At that point in my life . . . yeah that had been the craziest, most rebellious thing I had ever done. You were always so worldly and daring . . . I just wanted to impress you,” her blush deepening.

Liam chuckled more. “Oh, you’ve certainly proven to me that you have a rebellious streak, Riley Lawson. You’re certainly a lot more adventurous and fascinating than I remember,” he commented.

“And you’re not,” she mused. “The Liam I knew eight years ago would have dropped everything at the chance for an adventure. He wouldn’t even think about a rough looking boat stop him,” she pointed out.

Liam’s smile and playful demeanor changed suddenly. His back stiffened, and eyes saddened a bit. “I’m afraid that Liam grew up a bit over the years,” he murmured.

The boat began to take a slow u-turn, heading back in the direction they had come from. Riley looked up toward Matt in the captain’s control cabin. “Going back so soon?” she called up to him.

He nodded from the control cabin. “My first tour is at 8 am tomorrow. Don’t want to be out too late so that I sleep through it,” he said. “Don’t worry, next time your friend comes back to New York, I’ll give him the full tour . . . during the waking hours of course,” he laughed.

With Matt’s words, Liam’s shoulders slumped a little.

Riley nodded slowly. “Got it. Thanks for bringing us out here, Matt. Now I feel like I owe you one for waking you up at this hour,” she chuckled lightly. Matt waved her off, before turning his attention back to the wheel.

“Well, I suppose our adventure has come to an end,” Riley sighed. “But at least you got to see her . . . maybe not all up in person, but now you can go back home with a pretty cool story from your bachelor party. It would totally blow to go back home and tell everyone that you sat at a table in a club by yourself all night while your friends partied without you,” she joked.

She turned to face him when he didn’t respond and noticed the forlorn look on his face. “What’s wrong? I was just joking about the whole club thing . . .” she trailed off.

“I just can’t believe its over,” he said quietly. He sighed heavily as he leaned against the boat’s railings. “I always thought I’d have more time.”

“Hey, maybe you can convince your fiancé to come to New York for your honeymoon . . . unless that’s already planned . . . then maybe you guys can plan a vacation or something down the road?” She tried to say cheerily.

“I’m never coming back to New York, Riley. At least not without being on a tight leash,” he raised his voice. There was an underlying sense of anger in his words. It took Riley aback.

She paused, not really understanding the shift. He had been so happy only minutes ago. “Liam, you’re being really cryptic. You sound as if you’re going to be put to death once you return home,” she said concerned. “I mean . . . okay maybe that’s a bit dramatic . . . but still. Do you not want to go back? I know this isn’t my place to say anything, I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but if I were the one getting married, I’d be over the moon with excitement. And it is clear to me that you’re not. I don’t know if it’s cold feet or something else, but it’s not fair to your fiancé if you suddenly don’t want to get married. Tell her. Talk to her about how you’re feeling,” she reasoned.

“If only it were that simple,” he sighed.

Riley’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why isn’t it simple? I feel like I’m missing something major here, and I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” she said angrily.

“Do you remember my brother Leo?”

Riley nodded. “He was a thrill seeker, right? Always bouncing from country to country . . . He was always a bit reckless about it though,” she nodded. “Well, so you told me,” she shrugged. “What has he got to do with anything?”

“Well, let’s just say he hasn’t changed and his recklessness has forced me into a bit of a predicament,” he sighed. “His choices inadvertently solidified mine, if that makes any sense,” Liam murmured.

“It doesn’t,” Riley shook her head.

“My family is important to me, Riley. Our legacy . . . the business that we are in . . . all of it . . . it means the world to me. My brother . . . well, he’s never been one to follow the rules. I envy him a bit. One of us had to become the responsible one, especially after . . . well, let’s just say that my family went through a rough patch and needed all of us to step up and help. Leo couldn’t . . . more appropriately, didn’t want to do it. He enjoyed his adventures too much, and being stuck to one place for the rest of his life would have killed him. So . . . my family turned to me.”

“Liam, that still doesn’t make much sense,” she murmured.

“Getting ready to depart,” Matt yelled from up above, interrupting their conversation.

Riley’s looked up and saw that they were pulling in near to where Matt had picked them up from earlier. Her heart suddenly felt very heavy. She didn’t want this night to end. Not when something was clearly bothering Liam. How crazy was it that after all this time, she still felt something for him? A sense of protectiveness . . . a sense of worry. She paused, was she falling for him again? No. She shook her head, trying to make sense of everything that was happening.

“Forget I mentioned anything,” Liam said, clearing his throat. “I got a bit sentimental back there, and my judgment became clouded. I’ve got a lot on my mind, and shouldn’t have burdened you with my problems,” he explained.

“Liam,” she started before Matt blew the boat’s horn.

“Alright, guys. Back to land,” he called out to them.

Riley looked back up and saw that they had docked, and Matt was already situating the plank to let them off. Liam was waiting patiently and stepped hurriedly off the vessel as soon as the plank was down. She headed toward them, and clasped Matt on the shoulder.

“Thank you, for doing this,” Riley said softly. “I know I mentioned this before, but he has wanted to see the Statue of Liberty for ages . . .” she sighed.

“He got his wish,” Matt nodded toward Liam. “But something tells me he’s wishing for something else now,” Matt nudged Riley’s shoulder.

Riley looked at him puzzled. “What?”

“Uh . . . you and he? Aren’t you a thing?” Matt asked.

“Nope, it’s nothing like that. We just knew each other from way back when. It was purely a coincidence to run into him tonight,” she brushed off his hinting with a wave. She didn’t need another person’s thoughts adding to her own jumbled emotional mess.

“Well, I’m thinking he’s seeing you in a whole new light,” he said, pressing on. “That guy has eyes for you, Riley. The way I saw him looking at you . . .and you looking at him . . . could have fooled me,” he shrugged, patting her on the back.

Riley bit her lip, even more confused than before. She trudged toward the plank shaking her head at him. “I’ll see you around, Matt. I better get this guy back to his friends.”

She walked off the plank toward Liam who was gazing at the New York skyline deep in thought. The worry lines on his forehead were prominent, and his eyes looked deep with sadness.

“Hey . . . we were having a pretty deep conversation on that boat . . . then Matt interrupted and you seemed to close yourself off again. I don’t want to forget it, Liam. We were friends once. More than friends,” she sighed, closing her eyes at the memory. “I don’t want to spend another eight years wondering about you . . . wanting closure . . .” she trailed off.

“Why do you care so much?” He asked.

“Huh?” She questioned.

“Several hours ago you were dumping a pitcher of water over my head. After that, I assumed you never wanted to see me again . . . then I saw you at the club . . . and then you took us to the cove,” he trailed off. “You went through all this trouble to make this happen for me tonight . . . then you tell me you’re worried about me . . . about my happiness,” he shakes his head as if in disbelief. “What changed?”

“I – I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I can say the same about you,” she turned it back on him. “Eight years, Liam. Eight years without a single word. I sent to hell and back after you left, then you waltz back into my life and I’m finally ready to tell you off for leaving me back in Germany,” she sighed. “So yeah, at first . . . well I guess my anger got the best of me. Then,” she trailed off. “I guess I wanted closure,” she said softly. “I mean, back at the cove, you talked about your family obligation, but then something changed. You seemed sad and lost and I don’t know . . . I just wanted to do something for you to make you feel better,” she shrugged. “I suppose talking to Drake may have triggered me being a bit more open-minded about things . . . and well, how you saved me back at the club certainly opened my eyes about a few things,” she reasoned. “I guess I built up this terrible image of you in my head, and you’re just . . . you’re not. You’re not terrible, Liam. You weren’t a terrible guy, then either. There was a reason why I cared about you so deeply . . a reason why you leaving without saying goodbye hurt me so terribly . . . I cared for you,”

She loved him then, but she certainly wasn’t going to admit that to him. Not when he had warned her that they could never be together. It was her own fault. He had told her that they could only have the summer together, that realistically anything beyond that summer would lead to something that could never continue. At the time, she was okay with that, but then, he left before the summer had even ended, then her world turned upside down and she just crumbled.

“We should talk,” Liam said lowly, his gaze turning steely. “You deserve to know the truth . . . about everything. Why I left, why I couldn’t stay in touch . . .” he trailed off, his hand suddenly reached for hers, and she felt a tingle as their skin touched. Her body hummed in anticipation and longing.

Riley looked up at him, tears beginning to form in her eyes. The emotional whirlwind of the night was finally catching up with her. There were so many emotions that she had pushed away for far too long. Now, they were all bubbling back to the surface, and she didn’t know how to feel? What was she doing? He was engaged. He was going to leave her again. This little reunion was exactly as she had told Matt – a pure coincidence. There would be nothing beyond tonight. She wasn’t the type of girl to cheat and she certainly didn’t want to cause any turmoil between Liam and his fiancé. It didn’t matter if she loved him first. It didn’t matter what happened between them. She just wanted to make him happy, and mission accomplished. He saw the Statue of Liberty. Now it was time to part ways and go back to their lives . . . separately. She pulled her hand out of his grasp, shaking her head.

“I can’t do this. I should go home,” she said hesitantly. Here he was offering her everything she had wanted – an explanation. Not some bullshit about some sort of family obligation, but a genuine, honest to God explanation about why he left her shattered in Germany all those years ago. She finally had her opportunity to confront him about everything that had happened, and here she was chickening out. Perhaps not knowing was better? She’d wanted an explanation for so many years, she was suddenly afraid to have it. Or more appropriately, she was afraid of what was now happening between them. Talking to Liam had always been so easy . . . too easy. She remembered being able to tell him anything. She remembered feeling so comfortable around him. She was feeling it again. This thing between them was dangerous. It would hurt too much to fall for him again. That would be the worst thing to happen . . . considering he was emotionally and physically unavailable to her. He was about to be married for God’s sake. It was time for her leave.

She shook her head quickly. “I have to go,” she murmured, taking a few steps back. “I take it you can find your way back to your friends?” She asked, without really waiting for him to answer.

“Riley,” he said softly.

“I’m glad that we saw each other again . . . but maybe it’s better if we just leave things as they were.” She started to wobble down the path, overwhelmed by the surge of feelings that flooded over her. “I am going to call myself an Uber, go home, sleep this night off, and start fresh in the morning,” she rambled on to herself as she walked away.

“Riley James Lawson,” he called after her, she paused, too afraid to turn back.

“Riley James Lawson,” he called out after her again. “I owe you an explanation . . . I owe you a whole lot more, too . . . It might be eight years too late, but I’d still like you to hear it. If you’d like,” he added.

#almostseries #theroyalromance #trr #choices trr #trr fanfic #trr fic #Royal Romance #choices the royal romance #choices fanfiction #liam x riley #trr au fanfic #trr au #choices: stories you play #playchoices #liam x mc #second chances

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the-lupine-sojourner · 4 years ago

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Takara’s Hero Academia [S02 E07] [Eijiro Kirishima/OC] [Female!Aizawa/Hizashi]

...

I really have NO excuse for this and I’m really sorry! TT^TT I literally had this just SITTING on my laptop, all ready for proof-reading! Ugh!

Anyway, I got my lil bro and sis into MHA, and was like ‘gosh I need to start writing this story again’ and...here we are.

Hope you like like this and haven’t given up on this story! Sorry again it took so long!

As always, here’s the taglist: My best friend in the whole world, @elite-guard-hardygal, the amazing @dailyojiromashirao, and @fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99, who is an awesome supporter of this story! Thank you guys for your patience and feedback on all the chapters! :)

Here is the Masterlist for all the chapters (with a few bonus chapters as well) that I have written so far. I’ll keep adding to it as I write!

Again, hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I do have a Patreon, and a Ko-Fi, if anyone’s interested in supporting my work.

God Bless and Good Day!

~The Lupine Sojourner

(Quick recap in italics cus I know it’s been a HOT minute since I updated this...)

Shinso smirks as Izuku eyes gloss over.

“That’s it. I win.” I sigh. It was just like Shinso said; he’d get his opponents under his Quirk, and then it would be over. With no one close enough to jolt Izuku out of Shinso’s control, Shinso could secure victory fairly easily.

He might even be able to win the entire festival just using his Quirk. As long as he could get people to talk to him he’d win.

“Aaahhh! I warned him not to say anything!” Oijiro groans, hands on his head. He was hoping he’d helped Izuku win against Shinso.

To be honest, I’m not terribly surprised at this outcome. Shinso knows how to get people to talk, even if it is a bit harsh.

“Hey, what’s the dealyo?!” Dad cries, “This is the first match, and it’s started with a bang! The fight has just begun and Izuku Midoriya is completely frozen!”

I watch as Izuku remains still, awaiting Shinso’s order to walk out of bounds. If something doesn’t change, Izuku will lose this match and be out of the tournament!

The crowd is completely silent after witnessing Izuku suddenly stop short.

“He’s not moving a muscle!” Dad exclaims as Izuku continues to stand there, awaiting orders.

“Shit, Shinso…” I murmur, fingers gripping my PE outfit tightly as tense seconds go by. “I forget how intimidating you can be.” I’d never really seen him fight, now I think about it. Or even use his Quirk, really.

Sure, he was a bit rough around the edges sometimes, but he had never truly struck me as intimidating before this moment.

Now, I was seeing my friend through the eyes of an opponent. Izuku must be terrified if he’s even aware of what’s going on.

Hitoshi told me he was never sure if the people under his Quirk were simply watching helplessly as they obeyed his orders, or if they truly didn’t know they were brainwashed.

I can’t tell which would be worse, honestly.

I knew, either way, it wasn’t an entirely pleasant experience, which led to so many people pegging my friend as a villain.

“And what’s with that look on his face?” Dad continues, and I do notice Izuku’s lifeless expression. Poor guy… “Could this be a Quirk at work?” I knew Dad knew about Shinso’s Quirk, but the commentator in Dad couldn’t help being dramatic. “Hitoshi Shinso seems to have Izuku Midoriya completely stunned!” The crowd is beginning to react to the fight now, murmuring amongst themselves as Dad continues his commentary. “He didn’t stand out in the first round, but it’s possible Shinso’s crazy powerful!”

I laugh a little at Dad’s enthusiastic commentary style and watch on the large screen as he moves wildly about in his seat while he talks. “Who could have predicted this turn of events?!” He asks rhetorically. “That’s the Festival for yah!” He chirps and I laugh harder. My dad was crazy, but I loved him.

Then mom’s voice stalls Dad’s laughter. “This is a perfect example of why the entrance exam isn’t rational.” Mom points out and I get her meaning a few seconds later.

After all, robots couldn’t be brainwashed, or have their Quirks canceled out. So, Mom and Shinso are in the same boat. No wonder she hates the entrance exam so much! She probably started where Hitoshi is now, clawing her way into the Hero Course and becoming the amazing hero she is today.

“Huh?” Dad asks, slowly coming down off his commentating high and not quite processing what Mom had said just yet. “Why’s that, honey?”

“Since we’re on to the individual matches, I had some information compiled about our final competitors. Shinso failed the practical exam to get into the Hero Course. Since he also applied for the General Studies course, he probably figured that would happen. His Quirk is incredibly strong, but that entrance test consisted of fighting faux villains; robots. It gives a huge advantage to those with physical superpowers they could show off. Despite his abilities, Shinso never stood a chance of passing.”

Hitoshi and Izuku don’t react to my parents’ discussion.

Hitoshi seems to tense up. “So, here we are. You’re lucky to have been so blessed, Izuku Midoriya.” He notes, almost menacingly. He then tilts his head back a little and to one side almost casually. “Now turn around and walk out of bounds like a good little hero.” He instructs.

Izuku does, marching slowly toward the edge of the ring.

Dad gasps. “What?!” He cries. “Midoriya’s obeying him!”

“Not that Izuku has a choice.” I mumble to myself.

“Oh no, Deku!” Ochako exclaims worriedly. “What’re you doing?”

“Hang on, folks!” Dad calls as Izuku continues his shambling toward the edge. “Babe, hand me that file would yah?” On the screen, I see Mom handing Dad Hitoshi’s file and he reads the description of Hitoshi’s quirk aloud.

Ochako then turns to me. “Don’t you know this Shinso guy?” She asks.

I nod. “Yeah. We went to middle school together. He’s a good person, he’s just very driven and focused.” I explain. “Most people assume he’s gonna be a villain with his Quirk, but he wants to prove them wrong and become a great hero.”

“Whoa! I had no idea...that’s so cool!” Trust Ochako to be so open and trusting. Since I vouched for him she accepted my word and didn’t doubt my friend. “Still, though, you were right about him being focused. He’s so intense, too!”

I chuckle a little. “Yeah he is. You get used to it.”

“Either way, Modiriya will lose this match if he can’t stop himself from walking out of the ring!” Tenya reminds us and I bite my lip.

While I wanted Hitoshi to do really well in this festival and get into the Hero Course, I also didn’t want Izuku to lose.

I was so torn, I couldn’t pay attention as Dad continued to talk about Shinso’s quirk and how it wasn’t flashy and yet it was super powerful...or something.

“You okay?” Eijiro asks suddenly.

I shake myself. “Y-yeah. It’s just that I’m not sure who to root for here.” I try for a chuckle but it fades quickly.

“I can imagine.” Eijiro’s eyes watch Hitoshi and I swear there’s something like anger or maybe something else in his eyes for only a second, then he smiles a little. “After all, it’s two of your friends down there. I wouldn’t know who to root for either, Kara.”

Down below, I can see Hitoshi saying something, but I can’t quite make it out...then I notice the other person in the ring.

“Damn, look how close Izuku is to the edge!” I squeak, leaning forward. If something doesn’t change, Izuku will lose! “C’mon, c’mon! There’s gotta be something that’ll snap him- -”

Suddenly, there’s a loud noise and a huge gust of wind bursts from Izuku, sweeping up and over the crowd.

While it was kinda refreshing, I needed to know if Izuku had won or not. I lean back out a bit and look to see Izuku barely in the ring, panting heavily.

Had he been fighting the whole time, just able to wiggle his fingers at the last minute to discharge One for All and create the stimulation needed to break out of Hitoshi’s hold?

“What’s this?!” Dad exclaims in surprise. “Midoriya’s stopped just in time!”

“Yeah! Go, Izuku!” I cheer automatically.

“That’s the way to do it!” Tenya adds.

“Whoa! I was about to freak out!” Ochako sighs in relief, all but collapsing in her seat.

Ojiro sits down too. I wasn’t even aware he’d stood up til now. He breaths out in relief, hand over his heart. “That just about killed me.”

I don’t reply, watching Hitoshi clench his jaw angrily. “You’re not supposed to be able to fight back! What did you do?!” He yells, trying to get Izuku to talk again, likely forgetting that I had told Izuku what I knew of Hitoshi’s Quirk.

Izuku puts a hand over his mouth instinctively.

Getting angrier, Hitoshi takes a step forward. “How’d you do that?!” He presses, but still Izuku resists talking.

Izuku shakes his head as if to clear it (understandable; he probably had a lot going on in that brain of his right now) and faces Hitoshi, holding his injured hand now.

“C’mon! Say something!” Hitoshi taunts, then assumes a slightly more relaxed stance. “I didn’t know you had so much power in your fingers. I’m kinda jealous of you!”

Of course Hitoshi would be jealous.

He’d never said it to my face, but I could tell he wanted a flashy, physical Quirk like mine or anyone around him’s. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.

Izuku starts running toward Hitoshi, and I can see the pain in his eyes from his broken fingers.

“Thanks to the way my Quirk works, I’ve always been at a huge disadvantage. But someone as blessed as you wouldn’t understand that!” Izuku grits his teeth to keep from talking and I can tell how much Hitoshi’s words were affecting him. Poor guy had been Quirkless growing up. “You’re lucky enough to have a heroic Quirk! It’ll be so easy for you to reach your goal!”

I bite my lip. No one around me was really reacting to what Hitoshi was saying, but I could feel a few eyes on me. As Hitoshi’s friend, they were gauging my reaction.

Hang in there, Hitoshi… I think, hands gripping my PE outfit again.

Izuku reaches Hitoshi and begins shoving him back toward the edge. “Say something, dammit!” Hitoshi growls, punching Izuku right in the face. I flinch. That had to hurt.

Izuku is still determined, though, continuing to push Hitoshi toward the edge. Hitoshi glances back worriedly at the narrowing space between him and the edge of the ring, now desperate, and slams his fist into Izuku’s injured fingers.

Izuku, predictably, reels back, grunting in pain.

“Did you have to go for the low blow?” I grumble to myself, but realize there’s a chance, if I were in Shinso’s position, I’d do the same thing, so I let it go.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Hitoshi roars as Izuku, attempting to resume pushing Hitoshi, stumbles when Hitoshi moves aside, bumbling to a halt, within the boundaries. It’s now Hitoshi’s turn to shove Izuku backwards. “Get out of the ring you lucky brat!” Shinso screams in frustration.

Unfortunately for Hitoshi, however, Izuku seemed prepared for that. He grabs the front of Hitoshi’s PE outfit, the other hand, the injured one, gripping Hitoshi’s arm. Izuku cries out in pain and heaves Hitoshi over his shoulder like he’d done with Katsuki during that combat training on the second day of hero training.

I wince as Hitoshi’s mouth opens in a silent cry of pain, his eyes closing as his body briefly passes out.

It had worked, however. Izuku won. Shinso’s feet were out of bounds.

I am off my chair almost before anyone could react, ignoring a few calls of my name as I race toward the arena, eager to get to Hitoshi, and...well, I’d figure that out based on his reaction when I get there.

“Shinso is out of bounds!” I hear Oba Nemuri call distantly and I pick up the pace a little. “Midoriya is the winner!”

Absently, I remember all the students in our middle school that, once they found out what Hitoshi’s Quirk was, eagerly talked about the nefarious possibilities as if that were what Hitoshi wanted.

I grit my teeth.

Those jerks probably didn’t mean to add to Hitoshi’s anger and frustration, but still. It made me mad that virtually no one aside from me, my parents, and his parents, could see past the brainwashing and actually get to know Hitoshi.

If they had, they’d have never suggested that he’d be a villain.

I get nearly to the edge of the hall leading into the arena when Dad’s voice comes over the PA system. “And with that expertly performed throw, we have our first victor of the finals; Class 1-A’s Izuku Midoriya!”

I finally see the light at the end of the hall and stop to walk the rest of the way and catch my breath.

Surprisingly (Or not, considering…) Toshin-Oji was there. He seems surprised to see me. “Hi.” I greet, trying to steady my breathing as Dad continues talking.

“That was actually kind of a boring first match, kids, but both of you fought bravely! Let’s show them some love everyone!” Dad cheers and the crowd obliges. I move to walk over to Shinso, but Toshin-Oji puts a hand on my shoulder.

“Wait just a minute.” He says a moment later, guessing easily why I was here.

Hitoshi gets up a moment later, saying nothing as he faces Izuku.

Izuku does an awkward half-bow (as usual after a sparring match) before giving up and standing there, holding his hand again.

“That was kind of a boring first match, kids,” Dad says and I roll my eyes. He was always wanting intense action in any fight he watched, be it in training or whatever he was watching. “but both of them fought bravely. Let’s show them some love, everyone!” The crowd obliges.

Now that I was closer, I couldn’t see Hitoshi’s face, but Izuku looked frankly kinda sad, like he regretted what he’d done. I see Izuku ask a question and Hitoshi almost flinchs in surprise. It seemed he wasn’t quite prepared for that question.

Then Hitoshi was walking toward me, after replying I assume, and I could see his face clouded with emotion.

I took that as my cue and started jogging toward him. “Hey~!” I cheer, hugging him eagerly. “You did so awesome out there!”

He peels me off. “I didn’t win.” He grumbles.

I catch up to his renewed walking easily. “So?” I reply, shrugging. “You still showed the world what you can do. Everyone’ll be buzzing about you now.”

“They aren’t saying anything good, I bet.”

Poor Shinso’s default was to assume everyone thinks poorly of him, and I felt absolutely terrible for him.

So I laugh. “Oh, don’t be cynical, Hitoshi.” I reply, patting him on the back for good measure. “You don’t know that.”

As if coordinated, we spot some students gathered on the bottom of the stands, leaning over and calling for Hitoshi, a few looking at me and smirking.

“You’re the star of our program!” among other encouraging things, were called out to Hitoshi and then one student tells us to listen to what the crowd was saying.

It was hard to make out, but it was mostly about how easy it’ll be for Hitoshi to subdue villains with his Quirk and how amazing it was. A few were even complaining at how Hitoshi was stuck in General Studies.

I grin. About time people realized how amazing a hero Hitoshi will be.

Hitoshi turns his head just enough that Izuku could tell Hitoshi was talking to him. “Depending on the results, they might transfer people into the Hero Course.” He says. “Remember that.” I grin and side-hug my friend.

“Yeah! I’ll put in a good word for yah and see if my parents can vouch for you, too! This isn’t over, Hitoshi! We’ll get you into the Hero Course.”

“Don’t worry, Takara.” Hitoshi replies, even as he smiles a little at me and removes my arm from his shoulders. “I’m not giving up. I’ll get onto the Hero track, get certified, and then…” he grits his teeth, “I’ll become a better hero than any of you!”

I’m so swept away in the emotions of the moment, I hug Hitoshi again.

“Hell yeah!” I cheer and Hitoshi peels me off again.

Then I notice Izuku’s lifeless expression and smack Hitoshi’s arm. “You know, people usually tense up when they talk to me.” Hitoshi notes, rubbing his arm. “Other than Takara and our families, that is. If you’re not on guard, someone’s going to defeat you. So be careful.”

“C’mon, let him go.” I chuckle, and Hitoshi does. “I’ll get you some water or something to pay you back for the gummies.”

I lead Hitoshi toward the hall when he stops for a second. “You better not lose and make me look bad.” Then Hitoshi continues walking away.

I chuckle. “You always were dramatic.” I muse wryly.

“Shut up.” He replies, but his smirk betrays him. Once we’re away from the eyes of the public, Hitoshi sags. “Thanks, Kara.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For always being there for me.”

I ruffle his hair. “Of course, knucklehead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” He smacks my hand away.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You owe me gummies.” He grumbles good-naturedly, leading the way toward the nearest vending machines.

I pull out my wallet (still in my pocket from lunch) and insert the change, retrieving the gummies and tossing them to Hitoshi as I turn to leave. “Well, I need to get back to my class now. They’re probably wondering why I left.”

Hitoshi shrugs. “They saw you down there with me. They’re not that dumb.”

I scoff. “None of them are stupid, Hitoshi. But anyway, see yah around!” I wave at him and he waves back as we part ways.

It doesn’t take as long as I thought it would to get back to my classmates and sit down. No one said anything for a long moment and I was beginning to feel hot and flustered (I’m not sure why, though) when Eijiro finally breaks the silence.

“So what was that all about?” He was testy again. I raise a brow.

“He’s my friend, Eijiro. I just wanted to congratulate him on his fight. He’s not great at fighting yet, but he’s trying. Plus, he needed a bit of encouragement after losing to Izuku.”

“Hmm...alright, that makes sense.” He says and it’s clear he’s still upset about something, but I can’t make out what he’s so mad about, so I just sit there awkwardly.

“Everyone's talking about Shinso.” Ochako muses, chuckling. “Must be a thrill for him.”

Mentally thanking her, I nod. “Yeah. He’s not used to positive feedback, but I think he likes the change.”

“He has a very unique Quirk, and I think he has potential as a hero, if nothing else.” It was obvious Tenya was just trying to compliment Hitoshi because I knew him, and I appreciated the gesture, so I nod.

“He really does.”

We sit waiting and soon enough Izuku walks up. Tenya waves to him and has Izuku sit next to him and Ochako.

“Thanks, guys!” Izuku replies happily, then notices Ojiro smiling at him. Izuku smiles back and sits down as the flames in the corners turn on again, and the opponents of the next match step into the ring.

“Enough standing around!” Dad cheers, “Now it’s on to the next players!” The screen displays the next matchup, and I see Hanta and Shoto. I figure it’s an easy win for Shoto (unless Hanta has a plan of some kind) and settle in to watch.

“He’s got some skills, but at the expense of some freaky looking elbows.” I laugh. Trust Dad to sort-of insult pretty much everyone in his commentary. “From the Hero Course, it’s Hanta Sero...versus an early frontrunner in the competition, who’s way too strong for his own good! Someone who got into the Hero Course due to recommendations. It’s Shoto Todoroki!”

Hanta looks like he’s stretching his arms, smiling cockily at Shoto, who stands there, waiting for the match to begin.

“And now for the second match of the first round!” Dad says, pausing just a second for effect, “Begin!”

I think Hanta says something, but I can’t tell what he said as he snaps tape toward Shoto almost before Dad had finished beginning the match, resulting in Shoto being tied up before he could move.

Hanta yanks Shoto toward the edge, letting out more tape to get Shoto closer to the edge faster.

“A plot to throw his opponent from the ring!” Dad cheers, “A brilliant strategy from the underdog! Way to start out strong, Sero!” He encourages.

But, unfortunately, Shoto’s ice powers then activate and freeze the tape, steadying Shoto, the ice hurdling toward Hanta before he could move, and soon enough- -

“Agh!” I scream in shock as a massive ice wall comes toward me. Eijiro’s hand on my chest pushes me back in my seat just in time. My nose was only a foot or two from the ice, seems like. The stadium was still vibrating from the sheer power of that much ice moving at once.

My breath condensates in the air as we all process what happened.

“This is insane…” I breath in shock.

“Y-yeah...geez...he didn’t hold back at all.” Eijiro mumbles absently beside me, his arm flopping to his side.

“He went way overboard! Someone could have been hurt!” Tenya protests.

“Tell the truth, Sero…” Oba Nemuri’s voice comes over the speakers. “Can you move at all?”

I think Sero replies cus Oba continues a moment later. “Sero had been immobilized! Todoroki advances to the second round!”

There’s silence, everyone still coming out of their shock at the sheer power Todoroki had displayed.

Then, I hear everyone start shouting ‘Nice try!’, presumably to Hanta, and I then decide to move to where I could see around the ice.

A few classmates went with me. All I could see was Shoto near Hanta, and there’s steam, so I can assume he was getting Hanta out of the ice.

There was something about Shoto’s posture and body language…

He seemed sad.

I resolve to talk to him more often. This was definitely intriguing.

#Fanfiction #OC Insertion Series #MHA #BNHA #OC #Original Character #Original Female Character #Eijiro Kirishima #Eijiro Kirishima/OC #Takara Yamada (OC)#Eijiro Kirishima/Takara Yamada #Takara's Hero Academia

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icyharrington · 6 years ago

Text

Is It Wrong?- Part 6 (Michael Langdon X Reader)

i am so sorry that this took so long to update!! i was going thru a period of low motivation, and had absolutely no inspiration to write. this is the second to last part of the series (not including the epilogue)!! thank you to everyone who has supported this fic throughout the past few months!!! i love each and every one of you nasty thots with my whole heart 💕

plot: michael langdon is a picture-perfect fuckboy, and, lucky for you, he’s also your stepbrother. how will you survive?

warnings: inappropriate relationships, fuckboy michael, fem!Reader, high school au, teen angst, cunnilingus, dirty talk, degradation, anal fingering, anal sex, semi-public sex, sexual intercourse, praise kink (kind of?), cum play

word count: 7.5k

tags: @alicecooper19 @ritualmichael @blackfyrez @bbyduncan @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @michaelsapostle @trelaney @kissydevil @langdonalien @langdonsdemon @sloppy-wrist @michael-langdon-appreciation @wroteclassicaly @langdonsinferno @ccodyfern @cocosfern @sojournmichael @starwlkers @theinevitableprophecy @americanhorrorstudies @sodanova @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @divinelangdon @maso-xchrist @space-princesssss @lxngdonscoven @ahslangdon101 @isabellaserpentiawesson @stupidocupido @bademliimagnum @nana15774 @hisgirlwonder @urlocalgothb @hexqueensupreme @gold-dragon-slayer @pr1ncessd1e @langdonsboots @langdonstrash @isoldedax @fckinsupreme @lvngdvns @telexnesis @venusxxlangdon @obsessivenostalgicbaby @noelle525 @lambofcairo @kiiteiru @coastalmason @anacerta @punkysouls @nuke-em-from-orbit @codyswhore @thingsthatoncemeantnothing @beriyeri @dcvilrising @grossgayartist @featherpool-852 @imjustasadhoe @cryptid-coalition @nu-tt @diamcndscarred @michaelsfrenchtoast

(sorry to anyone who asked to be tagged but isn’t in my tag list!! tumblr won’t let me tag certain blogs for some reason!!)

Michael’s bedroom had become, to you, a world all of its own. Whenever you were there, lying amidst the plaid-printed comforter and inhaling the distinct scent of Michael that clung to his pillowcase, you’d feel as though the outside world had, for the time being, ceased to exist altogether.

You were certain you spent more time in Michael’s room than your own nowadays; there was just something so comforting about his room, even despite the cringe-worthy posters of half-naked girls that never failed to make you roll your eyes. There was something comforting about Michael.

Most nights you’d hang out there, even when Michael scoffed at your presence, insisting that he was busy (but smiling with a knowing look in his eyes all the same). Sometimes you’d watch him play his computer games, other times you’d lie with your head on his chest and watch South Park reruns (god, was Michael immature, you’d come to realize, after witnessing him laugh at one too many dick jokes), and oftentimes you’d do nothing but have constant, urgent sex.

Urgent- recently things had seemed that way, like not a single second in one another’s company could be put to waste. As the weather grew warmer and the months passed by at a startlingly rapid pace, it became increasingly apparent that there wasn’t much time left.

Both of you had finished sending in your college applications, and soon enough, you’d both be graduating high school- a thought that filled you with dread.

You’d grown so fond of having Michael at an arm’s length at all times, being able to creep into his room whenever you felt particularly bored or or lonely or horny. What would you do once you were away at college? Thinking about living Michael-less again filled you with thousands of emotions, all pooled up in the pit of your belly, that you intended to ignore and deal with later.

This couldn’t keep on, you knew. It was inevitable that things would eventually have to end between the two of you. But when?

You found yourself lost in thought as you laid next to Michael one night; he wore only his boxers, one arm lifted so he could scroll through his phone while he idly wrapped the other around you. Lifting your head slightly, you looked at his flawless profile, a sound of vague discontent coming up from the back of your throat as you debated saying something.

He turned to you, quirking an eyebrow and setting his phone down on his chest. “What?”

“I dunno,” you said. You turned onto your side so you were pressed closer up against his warm body, splaying your palm flat on his soft tummy. He smelled good, you noticed, gratefully inhaling the boyish, woodsy scent of his deodorant as you nuzzled your nose against his skin. “I was just thinking.”

“About?” He was tracing a pattern on your back with his fingertips, something you were sure he was doing absentmindedly.

“Graduation,” you said. This, of course, wasn’t the full truth, but you weren’t about to make yourself seem unnecessarily needy by mentioning that you were also thinking about the fact that in a matter of months, you and Michael could no longer continue…whatever the hell this was.

You doubted Michael had even thought about it. In fact, you doubted he even cared. Once he got to college, he’d have a fresh slew of girls eager to jump on his dick, and he would probably forget all about you.

“I can’t fucking wait,” he said, and you frowned, lifting your head so you could meet his gaze. “The graduation parties are gonna be fucking insane. I’ll have to teach you how to play beer pong before so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

“Aren’t you, like, scared to graduate?” Aren’t you scared of losing me? is what you really wanted to ask, but of course you held your tongue.

He squinted his eyes like you’d just said the most incomprehensible thing he’d ever heard. “Fuck no. I’ve been done with high school since freshman year. Plus, college is gonna be fucking lit.”

You rolled your eyes at his usage of the word lit, heart sinking ever-so-slightly at his nonchalance. “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be really lit, having a new set of groupies lined up at your disposal.”

His expression shifted, a cocky smirk crossing his plump lips at the obvious bitterness behind your words. Fuck. You definitely shouldn’t have said that. “Aw, is someone jealous?”

“No,” you said defensively, cheeks burning up as Michael’s lips continued to curl upwards at the corners, hooded eyes flashing mischievously.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice suddenly dropping several octaves, craning his neck so that he could speak into your ear. “Your pussy will always be my favorite.”

Your eyelids flickered at the unexpected vulgarity of his words, and it took everything inside you not to bite your lip. You couldn’t keep doing this with him- you had to talk about this, like mature soon-to-be adults, instead of having sex in an attempt to avoid the topic.

“But— Michael,” you said, tone pitched almost to the point of whining. “Don’t you ever think about what’s gonna happen between us once we leave for college?”

Aaand— there it was. Fuck it. If you sounded needy, so be it.

His grin faltered for a moment, an emotion that you couldn’t quite decipher crossing his face for a mere fragment of a second. Then he shifted, returning to his previous demeanor and promptly rolling on top of you. “Let’s just have fun, baby. We don’t have to think about that yet.”

His lips grazed your neck, and he began trailing kisses from your jugular over to the front of your throat, and then to your jaw. Your breath hitched, stomach dipping as you were instantly overcome with arousal- it was just that easy, apparently.

“Michael,” you breathed, squirming beneath the weight of his lean frame. “Michael, can we please talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?” he said coolly. He moved his head down so that he was planting kisses down the valley between your breasts, which was covered by the oversize sleep shirt you wore (which you’d “borrowed” from Michael). “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

He continued moving down until he was resting between your parted thighs, wasting no time before working your lace panties down your legs and discarding them off the side of the bed. He spread your legs, hoisting one up to rest over his toned shoulder as he eyed your bare, wet cunt, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Mine,” he mumbled, placing an open-mouthed kiss to your soft inner thigh. His.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be better if you didn’t think about it, didn’t take things so seriously.

Or maybe you’d simply fallen under his spell for the umpteenth time, seduced by his sweet talking and expert touch and sparkling blue eyes. This prospect seemed far more likely.

“You don’t have to worry about anything, baby. Just relax…” His soft blond waves grazed against your inner thighs and you shivered, rolling your hips forward impatiently and eliciting a low chuckle from his full, parted lips. “So needy. Does my baby sis want me to make her cum all over my tongue? Hm?”

Without thinking, you took a handful of his silky hair in one hand, pushing your pelvis up towards him until you could feel his mouth against your core. Much to your disappointment, however, he pulled back, looking up at you from between your legs with glinting eyes.

“Say it,” he said, tone velvety and seductive as his large, veined hands slid underneath your shirt to grope your tits. “Tell your big brother what you want him to do to you.”

On one hand, you wanted to smack him- could he stop with all that step-sibling talk already? God, it just made things so weird.

…But on the other hand…

“Want you to make me cum, Mikey…” You batted your eyes down at him, making sure to speak with as much syrupy sweetness as you could manage; you saw his jaw just barely clench at your words, and inwardly you smiled. “Please. Wanna feel your mouth all over me.”

“My bad girl,” he cooed, dragging his tongue up between your folds and circling the pointed edge around your clit. “So glad I was the first one to claim this perfect little cunt.”

He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it into his hot mouth and pressing his tongue harshly against it; you sighed, tugging at his hair as your head fell back into the pillows, his hands roughly kneading your tits until they stung.

“That feel good, baby?” he breathed, although the question was entirely unnecessary- if anyone gave good head, it was Michael Langdon, and he knew it.

He pulled one hand from underneath your shirt so he could form circles over your clit with his thumb, his tongue moving to lap at your opening before easing inside.

“Fuck, Michael,” you sighed, twisting your fist perhaps a bit too hard, because he drew his head back from your aching heat to shoot you a glare.

“Can you not rip my hair out of my head, please?” he said irritably, his mouth and chin glistening with your arousal.

“Not like you haven’t done it to me a million times,” you mumbled.

“What was that?” he asked gruffly, yanking you closer to him by your thigh, which was still draped over his shoulder. “You wanna be a bitch? ‘Cause I can treat you like a bitch if that’s what you want.”

You lifted your head to give him a pointed look through narrowed eyes. “Just shut up and eat my pussy, dumbass.”

“Not with that attitude,” he said, crawling up your body and wrapping his fingers loosely around your throat. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, pale eyes boring into yours, but you could tell he was trying his hardest not to laugh. “I thought you wanted to be a good girl?”

You smirked, suddenly having found yourself in a bratty mood. “Nah, not today.”

Apparently you were looking to get destroyed. You saw something shift in Michael’s features, licking his lips hungrily as he slowly looked you up and down.

“Okay, if that’s how you wanna play.” In an instant, he had you flipped over so you were lying flat on your stomach, your insides buzzing with anticipation over what was to come; he slowly trailed his fingertips down from the base of your neck and along the expanse of your spine, stopping when he reached the small of your back. There was a brief stall in his motions, and then a loud crack as he landed a firm slap on your ass.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to try,” he said, taking his other hand to spread your ass cheeks before him. “Since you wanna be a bad girl tonight, I think you’ll like it.”

You wiggled nervously, bringing your arms under your chin as Michael leaned over off the side of his bed to grab something from his bedside table drawer. As much as you were apprehensive to find out what he was planning, you trusted Michael- you usually liked anything he introduced you to.

You heard shuffling behind you as Michael presumably undressed himself, immediately followed by a squirting sound— lube.

Oh fuck.

“Only good girls get it in their pussy,” Michael said, a slick-sounding noise coming from behind you as Michael pumped the lube up and down his cock. “Bad girls? They get it in the ass.”

“M-Michael-“ you started, voice trailing off when he began rubbing a cool substance against the opening of your ass, massaging the puckered skin with steady circles before dipping the tip of his finger inside. “Fuck!”

He sank his finger deeper, the lube assisting in this action; it still hurt, though, your tight, untouched hole being stretched for the first time- and he expected you to take his dick!?

As much as the idea frightened you, you couldn’t deny that there was something exciting about Michael claiming all of you, every last part.

“Just relax, baby,” he murmured, pumping his finger in and out of you until he felt you were sufficiently stretched out. He added a second finger, a low groan passing your lips as he quickened his pace, the intrusion encompassing you with a combination of pleasure and discomfort. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

“Yeah, no shit,” you retorted, trying to catch your breath. “It’s my asshole, idiot.”

“I was trying to talk dirty,” he snapped, thrusting his fingers in you deeper and brushing against something that made you see stars.

“How about just focus on doing what you’re doing instead of talking so much,” you said, arching your back to give him better access to you. Of course he’d been right about you liking this, you thought almost bitterly- he always knew what you were going to like.

“You really wanna be a brat tonight, huh?” he said, scissoring his fingers apart inside you to stretch your narrow walls even further. You gasped, head falling to the mattress as a jolt of pain shot throughout your body. “Must not want me to go easy on you.”

You said nothing (not that you’d be able to speak if you wanted to, seeing that your breath was caught in your throat). He continued fucking you with his fingers until he could slide them in and out with ease, pulling them out and aligning the head of his cock with your entrance instead.

“Such a little slut for me,” he said, shifting his weight so he was kneeling between your legs. He lifted you up at the hips, just barely pressing his cock into your now-stretched hole. “Now all your holes are mine.”

“How do you know I didn’t let my ex fuck me in the ass?” you teased, moving your hips from side to side as he began pushing himself deeper.

A hand landed on the back of your neck, pushing you down so your face was buried in the pillow; seconds later, your ass was met with a sharp smack.

“Yeah, right. Like you’d let anyone besides me be the first,” he said, pausing for a moment before continuing. “…You wouldn’t, right?”

You stifled a laugh- you were sure there was nothing Michael feared more than finding out you’d given away your anal virginity to someone else- and a “circle jerking jock”, no less. You supposed that maybe it wasn’t the wisest choice to intentionally piss Michael off right as he was about to fuck you in the ass, but you were having too much fun to stop.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked, the pads of Michael’s fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “I mean, he fucked me better than you anyway.”

The last part was a blatant lie meant to rile Michael up, and you knew Michael knew it; still, he brought one hand from your hips to the back of your head, wrapping a strand of your hair around his palm and forcefully pulling it back.

“Really? He fucked you better I do?” In one sharp forward motion, he entered you almost fully, earning him a weak cry from your parted mouth. “Made you cum better than I do?”-he paused to scoff- “I bet he couldn’t even make you cum.”

Goddamn it. There was another thing Michael was right about, not that you were about to let him know that.

“He didn’t know about that spot inside you that makes you cum so hard you cry, or how to tease you until you’re all needy and desperate, begging to be filled up like the whore you are,” he continued, and you could practically hear the cocky grin on his face as he spoke, his hips still as he waited for you to adjust to the feeling of a dick being in your ass. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

You kept silent, knowing better than to challenge him again.

He laughed, your lower body trembling in arousal and agony as he gingerly slid inside the rest of the way. “Of course I’m right. So keep your mouth shut unless it’s to take my cock.”

With that, he began fucking you- hard and steady, his hips rocking back ever-so-slightly before jutting forward again, the sensation so intense that your eyes rolled back into your skull. Taking fistfuls of Michael’s sheets in each hand, you let out a raspy whine, tears darkening the pillowcase under your head with large wet spots.

“Fuck, you really are a bad girl, aren’t you?” he snickered, upon hearing your soft moans that had been muffled by his pillows.

You nodded mindlessly, pushing your hips back weakly with every thrust Michael administered, vision going blurry at the corners each time he seated himself all the way inside you. You’d never felt anything like it before- you were so full that it felt you might fall apart at any moment, completely at Michael’s mercy.

“You like that? Like it when I stretch you out?” he grunted, and you could tell that he was already close, your tight hole clenching with every burst of pain he inflicted with his cock. Leaning forward, he hooked one toned arm around your thigh so he could mercilessly rub your clit, hissing lowly as he pounded inside you fully again.

You groaned, gritting your teeth as he formed fast shapes over your sensitive bud, white spots forming in front of your eyes as he gradually increased his speed.

Fuck, it hurt, but both you and Michael knew by now that you liked pain, liked the way it matched together so perfectly with pleasure.

“You doing okay, baby?” Michael whispered as he pushed a few moist strands of hair away from your face, his sweat-covered chest pressing firmly against your back.

A gravelly “m’fine,” was all you could manage.

“Good girl,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear before he brought himself back to a standing position, fingers still working at your clit. “Taking me so well, like always.”

You found yourself smiling weakly at his praise, cheek flush against Michael’s now-tearstained pillows; your stomach dropped, Michael’s fingers still massaging your clit with precision until you were panting, abdomen tightening as you neared your climax.

It wasn’t long before you were cumming, still listening to him breathing heavily as he chased his own impending orgasm behind you. When you felt both hands return to your hips, his fingers gripping your tender skin until you whimpered, you knew he was close to the edge.

“You want your ass filled with my cum?” he said breathlessly, and you could tell it was taking everything inside him to properly get the words out. He slapped your ass, the sound crisp and loud, and you inhaled sharply. “Answer me.”

“Y-yes, Michael, I want it…” you said, half-dazed, voice so low you weren’t sure he’d even heard you. “Want your cum in my ass. Please…”

“Fuck.” Hurriedly, he impaled you until his balls slapped crudely against your ass; then, with a string of incoherent expletives, he shot his warm load deep inside you.

He stayed seated inside for a moment, placing a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“Fuck. You’re my good girl, aren’t you, (y/n)?” He pulled out of you slowly, running his fingers through the cum that was now leaking out of your hole and down your thighs. “So fucking good for me.”

He turned your limp body over so you were on your back, falling to lie beside you. Through half-open eyes, you surveyed him, boyishly handsome with damp curls clinging to his glowing forehead, flat torso rising and falling as he laced his fingers over his chest. God fucking damn it, was he beautiful.

“I can’t believe you actually let me fuck you in the ass,” he said, spit-glossed lips curving upwards at the corners as he flashed his perfect top row of teeth.

“I can’t believe it either,” you muttered, feigning slight irritation, although truthfully, you could believe it- you’d do anything for Michael.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, moving to pull you up against his chest. “You’re what my friends would call a keeper.”

Outwardly, you laughed, but his words made your heart sink for a reason you couldn’t explain.

A keeper. If only he really believed that.

ii.

For a while, things kept on like this- neither of you wanted to talk about the future, and so whenever it was mentioned, you’d wind up having sex to avoid the conversation you both were avoiding.

And then, one day, you brought in the mail to find that you’d received a letter from your top college— you’d been accepted.

That night, your parents had something of a makeshift celebration- your father insisted upon going out to dinner despite your protests, which was how you found yourself in a cramped Cheesecake Factory booth, thigh pressed up against Michael’s as your father and Miriam bickered across from you. You couldn’t help but notice that the entire situation felt vaguely familiar.

“Is it just me, or have the prices here gone up?” your father said, squinting his eyes to better read the small menu lettering.

“I told you we didn’t have to come here,” you mumbled, elbows leant on the marble surface of the table.

“Don’t be silly, sweetie,” Miriam said. “We have to celebrate.”

“God, these prices are ridiculous, though. Why don’t we just leave and go to Applebee’s instead?” your father continued, loud enough that you were sure any passing waiter might be able to hear; in unison, you and Michael groaned.

“(Your dad’s name)!” said Miriam, eyes widened in disbelief as she turned back to you with a forced smile. “Don’t mind your cheapskate of a father, (y/n). You totally deserve to celebrate. You must be so excited!”

“Yep,” you said.

And you were excited- for the most part, at least. It just seemed like time had passed by so quickly: you’d been so wrapped up in all the meaningless teenage drama and angst of your senior year that it hadn’t even occurred to you how soon it would all be ending. And now you were faced with a whole new problem altogether; something that, at one point, had seemed like more of a blessing than a curse.

Your impending life without Michael.

You’d been attempting to avoid the thought, but as time went on, you found yourself becoming less and less able to tuck it away to the back of your mind. You’d be committing to college soon, as would Michael (once he heard back from one of the few colleges he’d applied to) and then that was it.

Of course there would be the breaks between semesters and during holidays; there was no question of whether you and Michael would see each other again. You probably wouldn’t have even been worried at all, had the two of you been strictly stepsiblings-with-benefits, but you were fairly certain that both you and Michael knew that wasn’t exactly the case here.

Maybe you were being delusional for thinking so. Anyone with common sense knew that Michael Langdon was a fuckboy, an asshole who knew how to charm girls into sucking his dick and nothing more. To think that there was anything deeper beyond your relationship (if you could even call it that) was probably foolish. And yet…

Sigh.

God, he had you whipped. It was nauseating, really. Only a few months ago, you’d been desperate for the school year to end so you’d never (or, at least, almost never) have to see Michael’s stupidly beautiful face again. Now, the mere thought of no longer being around him, no longer hearing his smart-ass comments and borderline-objectifying remarks made you feel queasy.

Of course the one boy you’d ever been hung up on like this had to be your fuckboy stepbrother, of all people. It was just your luck to wind up in a situation as convoluted and ridiculous as this one.

“What kinds of things are you thinking of doing in college?” asked Miriam, obviously aiming to fulfill her supportive stepparent quota for the evening. “Are you planning to join a sorority?”

Michael snorted. “You really think (y/n) would be able to get into a sorority?”

You scowled, making sure your arm was completely hidden underneath the table before pinching Michael’s thigh. “If I wanted to join a sorority- which I don’t, by the way- I would definitely be able to get in. So shut up.”

“Right. Keep telling yourself that,” he said, smirking in that stupid, insufferable way that made you want to punch him right in his perfect face. Asshole.

Miriam shook her head in a way that said oh, these darned kids as your father continued to ignore everyone, still immersed in the contents of his menu. “Be nice, Michael.”

“What are you gonna do once you get to college, huh, (y/n)?” said Michael through a thin-lipped smile. You recognized that look- it was the face he made whenever he was intentionally trying to upset you. Of fucking course he’d choose today, of all days, to be an asshole. “I’m sure all the douchey frat guys will be allll over you. If you actually go to parties, that is.”

“You’re gonna be a douchey frat guy, Michael. So I really wouldn’t be talking if I were you.” You crossed your arms defensively over your chest, leaning back to rest your back against the padded booth.

“You really think I’d join a frat?” Michael asked, wrinkling his nose. “I’m not sticking a pinecone up my ass for anyone, especially not a bunch of circle jerkers.”

“Huh? What about pinecones?” your father said suddenly, putting down his menu to more directly focus on the conversation going on across from him.

You rubbed your temples, letting out a slow, exasperated exhale.

“(Y/n) was just telling me how excited she is to meet all the frat boys at college,” said Michael, flashing you a shit-eating grin.

“I was not!”

Just then, the waitress came over- a woman in her mid-sixties with bleach blond hair (you certainly wouldn’t admit this, but you were almost grateful to find that the waitress wasn’t a cute, younger girl, just so you wouldn’t be forced to watch Michael flirting with someone else in front of you).

As everyone ordered their food, you reached out and wrapped your fingers around Michael’s wrist, pulling his hand over to your bare thigh and squeezing it; he peered over at you, cocking an eyebrow inquisitively- usually he was the one pursuing you in public, so you didn’t doubt that this had caught him off guard.

You gave Michael a pout, widening your eyes faux-innocently as you traced your fingers along the veins in his hands.

To your disappointment, Michael shooed you away, hardly looking at you as he brought his attention back to the waitress. Huh. Definitely not typical Michael behavior. Once the waitress had headed off, you decided to take to a different approach: delicately, you placed your hand on Michael’s crotch, mouth watering as you grasped the large bulge that protruded from the front of his jeans.

At this, his body stiffened, but still he ignored your advances, pushing your hand off his lap and shooting you an indecipherable look from the corner of his eye.

God, what the hell was his problem tonight?

Just one more try, you thought, returning your hand to where it’d been seconds before and palming the outline of his cock. His breath hitched, hands flying to wrap around the edge of the table as you ran your thumb up and down his clothed length.

“I gotta take a piss,” Michael muttered, removing your hand from his lap as he abruptly stood up.

“Michael!” scolded Miriam, but he was already gone.

“I have to go to the bathroom too, actually,” you said suddenly, not bothering to worry about how suspicious it might look that you were following Michael. If your parents had gone this long without noticing anything weird between you and Michael, you doubted they ever would.

You weaved your way through the tables, heading to the dimly lit hallway that led to the bathroom; you could see Michael about to open the door to the men’s bathroom, walking so slowly he was practically sauntering. His shoulders were slumped, hands deep in the pockets of his skinny jeans, and for a second you wondered why the hell he looked so goddamn sad.

“Why were you acting like a little bitch back there?” you called after him, leaning one shoulder against the wall.

He stopped in his tracks, sighing deeply as he turned around to look at you. The playful expression you were so used to seeing on his face was nowhere to be found, and in all honesty, his seriousness unsettled you. “(Y/n)… we are literally out in public.”

“Not like that’s ever made a difference to you before.”

“Well, now that we’re adults, I think we should stop doing stupid shit like that.” He was talking out of his ass, clearly- you could tell there was something else he wanted to say.

“What, are you mad at me or something?” Oh god. Stop acting like a needy girlfriend, (y/n), you thought to yourself. Stop it right the fuck now.

“Why would I be mad at you?” His back was resting against the door to the bathroom now, obviously no longer worried about having to take a piss, as he’d claimed. You admired him for a second- the way his short-sleeved button-up hugged the barely bulging muscles in his arms, the way he had perhaps one too many top buttons undone. Fuck, he looked good. But then again, when didn’t he? “What would even make you think that?”

“‘Cause you were being an asshole at the table, talking about frat guys and shit.” You swallowed, bouncing anxiously on the balls of your feet as you considered what to say next. There was more, the words lingering on the back of your tongue, but you didn’t know how to go about phrasing them. “And honestly, Michael? It seems like you aren’t even happy for me.”

He raised his eyebrows, plump pink lips curving upwards at one corner. “What did you want me to do? Eat your fucking ass?”

Well, yeah, that’d be nice…you thought idly, before mentally kicking yourself for being so goddamn thirsty all the time.

“No, but you know this is a big deal to me, and you haven’t even said congratulations,” you said.

“Okay, then, congrats,” he said, his tone suddenly turning ice cold. “I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun three hours away with all your new frat boy friends.”

And, with that, he turned on his heel and went into the bathroom, letting the door slam shut and rattle noisily in its hinges behind him.

Oh.

So that’s why he’s upset. Your lips twitched, and then you were smiling, big and stupid.

You knew the situation shouldn’t have made you happy- in fact, happiness was the last emotion you’d ever expect to feel after one of Michael’s little bitch fits- but there was something so satisfying about knowing that Michael was worried about you meeting other guys, knowing that he didn’t want you three hours away from him, knowing that maybe he felt the same way about you that you did about him.

Or maybe you were putting too much thought into things, like always. Whatever— you’d take what you could get.

iii.

Michael had made it a point, after your confrontation, to avoid you. By now you were used to him doing things like this; you’d come to realize that these cold-shoulder periods were simply his way of recuperating his emotions.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Michael was accepted into his own top choice (god, was he lucky that he had the entire high schools’ staff wrapped around his finger, because lord knew he hadn’t exerted a single bit of effort to get good grades)- a school that was far closer to home than the one you’d committed to. You’d both ordered your cap and gown, and then, in what seemed like a blink of an eye, graduation day finally rolled around.

You could hardly believe that the day had come. You could still remember your very first day of high school, years before when you were still naive and innocent- things had been so simple back then.

Now, as you stood before the mirror in the girl’s bathroom, dressed in your deep blue graduation gown with the matching cap tucked under your arm, you could hardly wrap your head around how much your life had changed, how much you’d changed.

In about a half an hour, the entire senior class was due to meet outside at the football field, where hundreds of cheap fold-out chairs had been set up in front of the podium your principal would be standing behind. You were dreading the ceremony, groaning internally when you thought of the unforgiving June heat, and the fact that you’d have to walk up there, a sweaty mess, to retrieve your diploma in front of everyone.

Once it was over, though, you’d be free. And god, what a frightening thought that was.

You didn’t have much of an idea of what your future held, but you supposed you’d figure that out later. Popping the top back onto your tube of lipstick and tossing it into your purse, you examined yourself thoughtfully before positioning the cap on your head and fiddling with the tassel so it fell just right.

You imagined Michael doing the same thing in the boy’s bathroom, spending far too much time adjusting his hair in the mirror, making poses at himself and practicing the way he’d smile when it was his turn to get his diploma. The thought was so silly, so endearing, that it made your heart hurt a little.

Michael won’t ignore you forever, you told yourself. He just needs to sort things out with himself.

You left the bathroom, pulling your bag over your shoulder and walking down the hall towards the front entrance of the school. People had already begun clearing out, and although you could hear laughter echoing throughout the hallways, there weren’t many fellow seniors in sight.

The pale yellow hallways looked dismal (or more dismal than usual, at least), stripped of their colorful posters for the summer. You dragged your fingertips along a freshly-bare wall as you strolled leisurely, hoping to waste as much time as possible before you were obligated to go outside.

As you walked past an empty classroom, you heard shuffling coming from an adjacent hallway; in an instant, you were pressed up against the door, a large hand clamped tightly over your mouth. It took a split second for you to process the all-too-familiar scent of Michael, your heart rate immediately slowing once you figured out what was going on.

“Michael, what the hell are you doing?” you demanded, once you’d utilized an obscene amount of strength to tear his hand away from your mouth.

He was half-smiling, working a wad of pink-tinted cinnamon gum in his mouth, pale eyes shimmering with fondness as he looked down at you. You were lost in his gaze for all of a few seconds, his chest pinning you back against the door, when you remembered that you were both in public, and not just in public- in school.

“Michael, are you fucking cra-“

Your words were promptly cut off as Michael pulled you back, opening the classroom door with one hand while he used the other to hold onto your wrist. Then he tugged you inside, checking halfheartedly over his shoulder to make sure that nobody had seen.

“I’ve been thinking a lot, and I think I finally figured things out,” he said, pushing you back onto the teacher’s desk and wedging himself between your parted thighs, taking a moment to hike up your graduation gown so your legs were exposed. “Any second that I’m not fucking you is a second wasted.”

He didn’t give you the chance to respond (or mock him for his corniness), pressing his lips fervently to yours with such intensity that you fell back onto the desk, your graduation cap falling off and toppling to the ground. Instinctively, you kissed him back, fingernails pressing into his back (which bore the same deep blue fabric as you) as you attempted to match the urgency of his kiss.

This was a bad idea. No, this was an awful idea. So why, oh why, didn’t you want to stop?

“We can’t do this here,” you said breathlessly, during one interval when Michael had broken away to catch his breath, a strand of saliva stretching between your faces.

“Sure we can,” he said, reaching up the short floral dress you wore under your gown and fumbling with your underwear. “We just have to be quick.”

“W-what if someone walks in?” you pressed, allowing Michael to work your panties down your legs and discard them on a desk. He shrugged, bunching up the fabric of his own gown so he could unbutton his jeans and retrieve his cock from its confines.

“Who cares? It’s not like we can get suspended,” he said, stunning you, as usual, with his nonchalance. He took his shaft in one hand, already semi-erect, rubbing his leaking head against your inner thigh. You wanted so desperately to argue, to push him away, but fuck— this hold Michael had on you had to be supernatural, because all you could bring yourself to do was pull him closer.

“Michael, we’re stepsiblings. People are gonna lose their fucking minds if they find out—”

“—So then they won’t find out.” He ran his cock through your slick folds, evoking a soft mewl from the back of your throat. “Like I said, we just have to be quick.”

You pressed your lips shut, squeaking quietly when he penetrated you in one slow thrust.

“Fuck,” he groaned, clutching your upper thighs with a bruising hold, balls slapping noisily against your skin as he bottomed out inside you. “Such a bad girl for me.”

“M-Michael…” you whined, rolling your hips in melodic time with Michael’s, his pelvis gradually slamming against yours harder and harder until he’d adopted an almost ruthless pace to fuck you with. He peppered your jawline and throat with kisses as he continued to fuck into you, your legs raising to wrap around his torso, broken moans leaving you as the blunt edge of the desk dug into your lower back.

“You’ll do anything for your big brother, won’t you?” he growled against your throat, cock brushing against something spongey and sensitive inside you and sending your lower body into convulsions. “Spreading your legs and letting me split your little cunt whenever I feel like it…”

Your pussy clenched at these words, cheeks burning in shame at the truth behind them—it was almost embarrassing how perpetually willing you were to let him have his way with you. He hissed, inserting one hand between your warm bodies to work at your clit, the other extending up to your face so he could clasp his hand over your mouth.

“Such a fucking slut for me,” he said between sharp inhales, and you could taste the salt of sweat on his palm; his eyes were droopy with lust, pupils dilated so that the baby blue was almost entirely eclipsed— he was so beautiful, and you couldn’t help but admire him as he pumped into you. “You’re fucking dripping. I bet you wanna get caught.”

Realistically, you did not want to get caught, but the idea was still an interesting one, to say the least. You sank your fingernails deeper into Michael’s shoulders, hard enough that you’d probably leave half-moon shaped imprints in his skin, even through the tough material of his graduation gown.

“What would everyone think of you, hm? Knowing that you’re a little slut who loves being split on her stepbrother’s big cock?” he was speaking into your ear so low that he was barely whispering, chills erupting down your spine at the sheer lewdness of his words.

“I’ll bet all the guys would be lining up to get a taste of your slutty cunt if they knew how much of a whore you are,” he continued, impaling you with such aggression that your eyes rolled back into your skull. “Too bad that this pussy belongs to me.”

You couldn’t do much more than whimper, your teeth pressing against the inside of your mouth from the force of Michael’s hand against it.

From out in the hallway came a series of voices, and Michael stopped his thrusting, his cock still deep inside you. Your pussy twitched- your body’s natural attempt to resume the friction that had ceased and left you aching for more; both of you waited with bated breath for the group outside to pass the classroom, chests heaving in soundless unison.

“Fuck,” Michael grunted once the voices faded away, relocating his hand from your mouth to the desk, bracing himself with his palm flat against the faux-wooden surface as he returned to fucking you.

“Michael, please…” you moaned, rocking your hips underneath him impatiently. The prospect of being caught in such a compromising position was beginning to scare you, and as much as you never wanted to stop feeling the immense pleasure that only Michael could provide, you thought it’d be best to wrap things up for now.

“Shhhh.” He thumbed at your swollen bud roughly, your muscles tensing as you felt your orgasm start to build up in the pit of your belly. “Be a good girl for me and keep that pretty mouth shut.”

You did as you were told, closing your mouth and letting your head fall back as he slid in and out of your heat, making harsh contact with your cervix every time.

“Such a good girl,” he praised, cinnamon-scented breath hot on your neck as he nestled his face in your shoulder, biting down on the smooth skin beside your jugular. “Taking my cock so well.”

His thrusts grew sloppier with each passing second, and you tightened your legs around Michael’s waist, not wanting there to be even an inch of space between your bodies.

“Oh god…” you sighed, despite Michael’s demands, but at this point he was too far gone to scold you.

The sensation of Michael stretching you out, paired with his fingers against your most sensitive point, was far too much for you to bear- it didn’t take much more for the coil inside you to snap, sending you into an intense orgasm that had you seeing brilliantly colored fireworks amidst the boring gray-beige walls.

“Shit,” Michael grunted, your cunt squeezing around his length as he fucked you for all he was worth. You ground your hips up against him, crying out as he drove his cock so deep inside you that you swore you could feel it in your stomach.

A low, almost animalistic noise came from the depths of Michael’s throat as he came, his hot load filling you up and warming your insides. You laid there motionless, watching from underneath half-closed lids as he slowly pulled out and tucked himself back into his jeans. Your cheeks were flushed, hair matted to your damp forehead, lips swollen and glossy with spit; the cherry on top to complete your debauched look, though, was the thick cum dribbling down your inner thigh.

Michael’s eyes fell down to where his essence was spilling from you, a self-satisfied smirk crossing his lips as he reached forward and drew his fingertips through it.

“Open up,” he ordered, and you complied, granting him access to your mouth as he pressed his cum-coated fingers against your flattened tongue.

You wrapped your lips around him and sucked, eyes fluttering at his slightly bitter taste. Once he was sufficiently cleaned off, he withdrew his hand from your mouth with a loud, wet pop.

“That’s a good girl.”

You got up off the desk, recovering your purse from the ground where it had been abandoned before slipping your underwear back on underneath your dress. You probably would’ve preferred having some extra time to clean up, especially since Michael had came inside you, but that was out of the question for now.

You could only imagine Michael’s internal smugness at the thought that you’d be graduating high school with his cum leaking out of you.

“Fuck, we gotta go,” Michael said, checking his cell phone. “We have like five minutes.”

“Shit!”

You slung your purse over your shoulder and hurried out into the hallway, ignoring the dull pain between your legs from how hard Michael had fucked you. Michael followed hot on your heels, and together you made your way through the vacant halls of your soon-to-be former high school, not bothering once to look back.

#michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon fanfic #american horror story #cody fern #ahs apocalypse #apocalypse #michael langdon smut #ahs smut #mine #michael langdon x you #ahs season 8 #duncan shepherd

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daysswithyou · 5 years ago

Text

Fallen Chapter 20: Out of my mind

previous / next

Characters: DAY6 Young K x OC (Rachel)

Playlist: Yellow; Coldplay

Author’s note: I’m very sorry that it took me so long to have this chapter out but if you’re still sticking around to see read this story, please know that my thanks come from the bottom of my heart. Updates won’t be regular still because I’ll be travelling but as before, I’ll continue working on it when I can. Once again, thank you for sticking around! TT

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Younghyun comes over regularly for study sessions with you and Dowoon and whilst you’re still awkward with your “boyfriend”, there was no reason for you to chase him out – can’t – chase him out. You have to settle for a tense atmosphere whenever he’s around but with time, it’s gotten better – at least you can breathe slightly easier now. You talk to him only when necessity requires it, an occasional small lift of the corners of your lips to show him the pretty smile that he misses so much. But it also hurts – because it’s just an inkling of what you used to give him – and his heart yearns for more. The solution to all your problems with him should have been simple – just talk to him. Clear the air. Trash things out. Do what normal couples do. Communicate.

But both of you were never a normal couple to begin with – the thought still pricks your heart sometimes when you think about it – and at times, it was hard to know when it’s alright to cross to line. Would it be weird to ask him about that traumatic night? Were you allowed to? Were you ready to hear the answer to the question? These thoughts ran at a million miles in your head and there was no way to silence them.

For Younghyun, the situation was excruciating for him as well. He had things that he wanted to say to you, and you knew it. Both of you were just sitting around for the other to break the silence and start the conversation but it was much easier said than done. It was only during the most fragile moments of vulnerability that the masks slipped, and the inhibitions melted away.

---

The sound of the wind chimes doesn’t catch your attention anymore, you're used to the door at this time on a Saturday morning. What you're not used to it the sound of one pair of footsteps only. You meet his eyes immediately when you turn around to face him, scalding your tongue on your hot tea accidentally when you realize that it's Younghyun instead of Dowoon.

"May I?" He gestures to the level above, and you nod your head. He walks away but you stop him before he gets too far away. You'd forgotten to ask the most important question.

"Do you need a drink?" He smiles softly at your statement.

"The usual."

You nod in understanding, hands going back to make the familiar drink that you knew so well. Making it was like second nature by now, you didn't even need to think. Your hand just moves on auto-pilot by themselves. Carrying both drinks up the stairs, you placed the cups down quietly before assuming your seat right next to him.

"Dowoonie?" You asked, with the softest voice Younghyun has ever heard.

"Hospital. He might have stretched his ligament a little too much yesterday. Capt and Pil are with him now to get it checked."

You hum in understanding, and decided to send Dowoon a get well soon text. Your phone pings just before you set your phone aside, containing a thumbs up gif from Dowoon. You close the message, missing Younghyun's side glance at you. Both of you work in relative silence, the clinking of cups against wood and the occasional question breaking the silence.

"Could you explain this equation to me?"

"I need help with the process of DNA replication, do you have any idea how it's supposed to work?"

Your Biology might not be the best, but it was at least way better than Younghyun's. In between sips of drinks and the conversation arising from the questions, Younghyun's eyelids grow heavy and he slumps his head down on the table, the loud thud catching your attention. You purse your lips and shake your head slightly at his behaviour – still the same Kang Younghyun. Still doing whatever he likes without really being aware of his surroundings. Looking at him sleep, it reminded you that perhaps you needed a break too. Lifting your face towards the ceiling, you're immediately assaulted by the cold blast of air from the air conditioning. You shiver when the icy cold fingers of the frigid air brush past your neck and you immediately lower your face to avoid the dry and cold wind.

He might be cold...

Standing up wordlessly, you trudge to the nearby cabinet to flip through your personal collection of blankets (you always had some of them at the cafe, ready for your usage whenever you were there to study) Walking over with the biggest one you had, you draped the blanket carefully over the sleeping boy, careful to not wake him. Immediately after, you shook your head at your silliness. You knew Kang Younghyun. Once he was out like a light, nothing could wake him up again. There was no need for you to worry about interrupting his sleep. With one last glance at him, you headed down the spiral staircase, leaving the sleeping boy alone.

---

Time must have passed but its meaning was lost on you. Between the pages of Fredrik Backman and his discussion of aging and forgiveness reflected through his compelling characters, your revision was forgotten.

As was the boy that lay peacefully sleeping above.

But you were rudely ripped away from the world of Ove by the sharp screech of the chair right above. You winced at the shrill sound, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You attempted to stand to investigate the sound, but you were interrupted by the thundering of footsteps down the spiral staircase, the force causing slightly tremors in the cafe. You watch as Younghyun makes his way down the stairs, chanting something under his breath but you can't make it out. He's frantic, almost delirious. You had to snap him out of it.

"Younghyun." That was all it took for him to snap his head to stare at you dead in the eyes.

It's that look. It's that look again.

Your blood runs cold when you think back to that fateful night. It's like you were looking at that Kang Younghyun again. The one who came knocking on your door at the dead of the night, completely dishevelled, wearing the same crazed look in his eyes. Yet, just like before, your presence was the simple remedy to this. The moment he laid his eyes on you, the alarm in his eyes dimmed and his breathing immediately slowed, his shoulders drooping as he collapsed into himself. You were here. Here with him. That's all that matters. You slowly sit back down as Younghyun shuffles to approach you, and you eye him the entire way. He towers over you as he comes to a stop right in front of you and you have to crane your neck to look at him, anticipating his next move.

"Can I sleep here?"

You nod, shifting to the side to give him more space on the sofa. You didn't have the heart to turn him away, he looked like he needed some human company. You thought that when he said sleep, he meant sleeping by your side, not on you. You bite back a small yelp when you feel the heavy weight of his head on your thighs, your skin feeling ticklish due to his short hair bristling against them. You stare down at Younghyun with wide eyes, expecting him to get the hint and move. Yet, he remained unfazed, staring right into your wide eyes with his fox-like eyes. Next, in a voice that was as soft as the flowing wind, he asked, “Can you sing me to sleep?”

“Are you sure? I can’t sing.”

“It’s… It’s fine. Please just sing me to sleep.”

“Why…? Younghyun, really, I can’t sing. You don’t want me to sing.”

“Please. I just need to hear your voice.” Throughout the entire conversation, his earnest eyes never leave yours, practically begging you to do as he says. What happens next is exactly as you expected it to.

“Ok. Then just close your eyes and focus on my voice.” You hurry to add in the next line before you start.

“But just this once! Never again.”

“Ok. Just this once.” Younghyun flashes you a wry smile before the lights dim from his eyes, his eyelids slowly fluttering shut as you start. You sing the first song on your mind – the one that reminded you of him.

Look at the stars,

Look how they shine for you,

And everything you do,

Yea, they were all yellow.

With Kang Younghyun, time seems to hold no meaning anymore. You sing till you’re slightly hoarse, moving from song to song naturally without much pause between. As the last note leaves your mouth, you close your parched lips, the itchiness in your throat a reminder that you should get water – but – you didn’t have the heart to wake Younghyun up. Not when he was sleeping so peacefully. You didn’t get much moments like this with him – quiet, serene and tranquil. He looked so peaceful, and you wanted to memorise every bit of this moment; his features.

Carding your fingers through his hair softly, you rolled the tips of his hair slightly between your fingers, noting how it’s getting longer. It gave him a manlier look; the messy cut from before gave him a boyish, almost impish look. You let your eyes trace over his features slowly, noticing the way he no longer frowns in his sleep, the way his facial muscles no longer tense. You first notice the eyebags under his eyes. He’s probably tired from all the consecutive games played and lacking sleep, yet he still dedicates time to his studies. His crooked nose comes into view, and you lift a hand to your lips to muffle the sound of your laughter as you recall the time where he animated how he broke his nose as a child to you, the outcome of speeding with a bicycle and colliding into a tree. Eyes wandering further down, you spot the purple peeking from beneath his shirt, evidence of a bruise and his unwavering dedication to the game, never giving up even when he got injured. Lastly, your eyes land on his lips – and a thousand memories come flooding back. The same lips that argued with you were also the same lips that comforted you, the same lips that made you frustrated were also the same lips that made you smile. They were the very same lips that captured yours in a kiss, leaving you breathless from the different emotions felt. Is this what loving someone feels like? Is this love?

You shake your head in resignation at your own musing, not really having an answer to your own question but knowing one thing at least: Despite all the confusion and pain, you still care for Younghyun. A lot.

Craning your head down, you press a soft kiss to his forehead, hoping that the sincerity of the action will reach him when the words are hard to say. When you pull back, your breath catches in your throat because you’ve been caught in the act. You stare back at his open eyes like a deer caught in headlights – unable to move, not wanting to move. His eyes flick to your lips and you know what he’s thinking – and you know that you’re thinking the same thing too. Fuck it. Since I’m already caught in the act, I might as well go all in.

“Kiss me.”

Younghyun doesn’t need to be told twice before he’s rising from your lap to push you against the banister behind you. He presses so close against you that your chests brush against one another with each inhale, his hands holding you in place to stop you moving. It’s irrational but he’s scared that you’ll run away, scared that you’ll slip through his fingers and disappear forever – because that was what it felt like for the past few weeks when he couldn’t have you close, it’s like you were gone from his life, and he hated that feeling. Like a drowning man that finally got his first gasp of air, Younghyun takes in as much as he can – lips savouring every inch of your sweet lips, legs tangling with yours as his hands begin to roam around your body. The world narrows down to just you and him, and all you can register is him – the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the feel of his skin burning underneath your fingertips and his lips that nip, suck and bite your own.

The sound of the front door slamming shut has both of you jumping away from one another instantly, as if someone had scalded the both of you. You sneaked a peek over Younghyun’s shoulder and you spot Dowoon’s figure by the doorway, eyes fixated on both of you. Your entire body burns at the thought of him catching both of you in the act – you’re not sure how long he’s been standing there or how much he has seen but one thing is sure – he definitely knows what went down. The messy clothes, ragged breathing and red lips? Yea, they’re unmistakable.

“Oh Dowoon-ah, you’re here.” Younghyun shifts further away from you to put distance between the both of you as he acknowledges the younger. Visibly awkward upon having walked upon such an intimate scene, Dowoon lets out something between a grunt and a mumble of acknowledgement as he eyes shift left and right, not sure what to do in that situation. Even though Dowoon stands at a distance and refuses to meet your eyes, you can see his lips twist into a grimace and his eyebrows drawing towards the centre – he’s visibly uncomfortable at the sight; maybe slight annoyed but… why? Your thoughts are broken by Younghyun’s announcement that he’s going to use the washroom and he flashes past your periphery before he’s gone again. Once Younghyun is out of earshot, Dowoon marches over with a determined look on his face – you’ve never seen this facial expression before and it has fear lodging itself into your heart. It’s a mixture of mild regret, fear and determination – almost like he’s going to reveal an earth-shattering secret.

“Can I talk to you?”

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player-1 · 5 years ago

Text

Graveyard Squad Headcanons

I know this is late to mention, but hey, someone has to do it!

Ephemer *Goofy ghost-boy (though technically not a ghost? Who knows) Since he’s a not-ghost ghost, he’s also the friendly neighborhood ghost-whisperer, being able to talk to the dead Keykids in the Graveyard. (Don’t ask why, it’s a perk) Despite being a living cottonball, he is perfectly capable of kicking all three of his new “friends” asses at any time. Signed himself up as emotional support in the group, as if being a Leader wasn’t enough hard work.

Lingering Will *The “silent” “hero” of the group, though in a slight misunderstanding, he would have killed Ephemer the first time they met (will be explained later). Even so, he sees Em as a slightly more mature version of Ven, telling him stories of his friends from equally-lingering memories of his stolen life. Hates Remnant’s guts (of course).

Vanitas Remnant *Of course, the literal embodiment of Vanitas’ angst. Fun fact: Lingering Will and Vanitas Remnant are literally ten feet away from each other in the Badlands; thus, Lingering Will mistook his Darkness concentrate as Xehanort’s; and with Em right at his face, mistook him as an immediate threat. Whoops. But later on, with weeks upon weeks of careful prodding, he begins to tolerate Em as a close acquiantance. Also hates Dark Inferno with a (ironically) burning passion.

Dark Inferno *Ephemer’s Heartless (no matter how heartbreaking the “theory” may be). He sees his Other as an extremely special case; having a somewhat physical form apart from both Heartless and Nobody (speculated to be Twilight Thorn), as a result, he seeks to protect him and the ancient history the Graveyard holds. He’s a bit of a airhead with Em’s jokes, may takes things a bit too seriously, but has a slight sense of chivalry in his mannerism. He admires Lingering Will for his perseverance, though he doesn’t bother testing his patience; but he would gladly punt Remnant into the sun if Ephemer wasn’t friends with him.

Long story short, they’re a bunch of dysfunctional, clearly murderous dorks with a penchance for vengeance and somewhat crappy social cues.

(Update: Bonus fluff and angst below!)

Inferno felt somewhat obligated to guard the Fissure, hoping to drive out any intruders that come their way. Unfortunately for him, as Ephemer realized, whoever had the gall to come here, there's a hellstorm of twisters they're going to have to get through, miles of excruciating heat, then they get a beat-down from the "guard dog"; so the world itself got most of his job taken care of. (He doesn't bother telling, he's proud of his potentially murderous work.)

Dark Inferno was a surprisingly good cuddler (and a warm one too), since the Graveyard's nights can get unbearably cold at times. Though it was pretty awkward at first, Ephemer got used to the company (respecting his Heartless protecting him in a way). Ironically enough, once Inferno realizes that yes, even Heartless need to sleep, he is an abbhoredly heavy sleeper; even worse than Ephemer. It might be the days upon days of guard work catching up to him, or he unfortunately inherited more of his Other's terrible sleeping habits.

Remnant was, of course, the tough cookie of the Graveyard Squad. It took Ephemer more than a week to get him to open up (and not cave his head in), but he only followed along because "You're the only person I'll tolerate acting like an idiot, you got the face for it." "...Thank you?"

With evidence from both BBS and KH3, Remnant likes standing on top of the rock pillar he occupies in the Graveyard. He just likes to be tall :)

Both Remnant and Inferno generally *tolerate* Ephemer to an extent. VR: "I can't believe I'm friends with this dork." DI: "I can't believe I came from this dork." However, despite the mutual irritation for the living cottonball, they hate each other's guts.

Now here comes the angst! (Sorry to say it’s mostly about Ephemer, but that’s how it all works with the cute characters, right?)

While Ephemer didn’t know his Nobody (Twilight Thorn) existed, when it died, he got the full force of its injuries. The damage? How about the bowling ball force of a concussion, invisible burns, and a broken neck five times over? Yeah...Not good.

On the plus side, Ephemer may be more than a Nobody after TT's death (since he's more of a heart-projection/ghost like KH1/CoM Sora), though there are some plotholes that might need fixing later...

Since he got more of his human emotions/senses, living in a literal Graveyard with three homicidal, slightly emotionless, and definitely not-human creatures would surely take a toll on his emotional/mental state. Even if he found Inferno as a slight comfort, it's pretty much the equivalance to a orphaned baby animal cuddling a heated blanket. Before Twilight Thorn was gone, he was just used to the emptiness, not having to worry about the searing heat or the bitter cold; but beyond that, he had to admit the fact that he may never come into real contact with another living being again. (Post KH3) But as Inferno accepted his death with a smile, everything came back all at once; his need to breathe, the bitter breeze on his skin, his knees pressed against the dust, actual blood pumping through his veins, everything. And the first thing he feels is the familiar plush of Ven's Chirithy running into an embrace. Finally, after what felt like ages, he felt the stream of tears on his face; letting loose a smile from ear-to-ear. "I'm alive...I'm real, I-...I'm actually here. Thank you, thank you so much..."

#KH3 #kh3 spoilers #Ephemer #Lingering Will #Vanitas Remnant #Dark Inferno #The graveyard squad #too angry to die club #Kh Union X #headcanons

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franeridart · 6 years ago

Note

what program/brushes do you use for your art? it's so damn pretty

Easy Paint tool SAI and the default pen/brush/marker tools, mostly! and thank you!!! ;^;

Anon said:When I was a kid I would've had a crush on Akane

HECK that’s such a compliment!! Thank you!!!

Anon said:Couldn't Akane technically Control/move Kiri's hair since it's dyed? I mean it's like his hair is stained meaning it's not alive! so Akane finally warms up to him and messes with him or plays with his hair?

She can and she did! I drew her doing just that both in the first and in the fourth thing I posted about her! :D

Anon said:okay i don't know if this is coming through but i have just looked through your entire blog(can only go 4 years back) and let me just say you are wonderful, I absoluty LOVE how you paint/draw like its sooo pretty??? like dnjwcfehbi i cant describe it, (part 1) || like you are wonderful, I absolutely LOVE how you paint/draw like it's so pretty??? like dnjwcfehbi I can't describe it like it's absolutely Fabulous, Stunning, Amazing, Lovely and it looks so smoooooth like what????how??But anyways love your art and love you keep being Amazing! (part 2)

AH GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!! This is such a sweet ask to get TT^TT (and you can only go 4 years back because the blog is 4 years old! Can’t believe you actually went through it all!!)

Anon said:I really love your art style and your comics are so cute and I love how you draw older Bakugou and Kirishima!! It’s all so wonderful! Thank you for sharing it with everyone!

Oh man thank you!! ;;; I’m so happy yo know you like them!!!!!! TTOTT

Anon said:the level of FLUFF and KOOKIENESS and SOFT and MARSHMALLOW and MY HEART CAN'T TOOK THIS IS is so much I could die.

PLEASE DON’T DIE I LOVE YOU !!!!!

Anon said:I love everything about Akane's au. Her, her interactions with Bakugou, how she dislikes Kirishima but is beginning to warm up to him, the boys' aged-up designs. Everything. It's all amazing. Thank you for bringing it into my life!

Nggghhhhhhhh no anon thank you for liking her!!!!

Anon said:Currently procrastinating on my essay to go through your blog because it de-stresses me and I love your art so much like seriously h e l p

GAH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! /////

Anon said:There's something I'm not understand in your AU children kiribaku. She adopted by bakugo or she is a kid bakugou have with someone. ( I'm really really sorry for my English )

Adopted!

Anon said:Your comics are so cute and funny! I'm loving the story with Akane, the last update was great! I really like the way you draw the characters, like your style is so nice. Thanks for making my day better with your art!

G o d thank you So Much!!!!!!

Anon said:Akane is adorable, and I absolutely love the comics that you upload of her, but also on top of that your mohawk Bakugo has cleared my skin, watered my crops, and brought me back from the dead at LEAST twice.

I’M REAL GLAD TO HEAR THAT because mohawk Bakugou owns my whole soul and it’s nice to know I’m not alone in that hahaha

Anon said:What are some ways Akane messes with Kiri (or used to) when he wears red clothes? Does she often do that? Does she do it when Baku's not home, or when he is so that she can hammer in just how much she dislikes Kiri? Has she ever done anything major that caused her to be really reprimanded by Baku, but being the best person in the world Kiri did not get angry?

She really only ever gets pissy (or used to! they’re starting to get along better !!!) at Kiri when she feels jealous for whatever reason, and that doesn’t happen as often as it seems through my doodles, so it’s not like she’s always antagonistic towards him! Mostly she just ignores him, so no, it doesn’t happen often at all! And she’s never gone further than messing his hair up or tugging a bit at his clothes, since she doesn’t have the strength to move Kiri all that much haha the only reason she managed to have him fall the first time was because he was balancing already, but generally Kiri weighs way too much for her to move him around or pull at the red stuff he’s wearing enough for him to notice it all that much

anyway, Baku never reprimended her for it - not more than he did in the first comic I posted with them, at least, specifically because the damage she can make is so minor that Kiri and Baku barely consider it something to tell her off for... if she were ever to act that way towards someone she might actually hurt (say, a kid her own age) then Baku might reprimend her more seriously, but as long as she’s just tugging at Kiri’s clothes they don’t see it as anything worth fighting her over :D

Anon said:Just sent an ask, so forgive me for this one, but I'd love to get this straight: in the Akane AU Kiri and Baku graduated and share an apartment, are madly into each other, but they neither has made a move on the other yet? Perhaps that should be sad, but it's 100% adorable.

I know I shouldn’t say this as I made the au myself, but I find the arrangement pretty dang adorable too haha they act like a married couple anyway, so it’s like... pining while the rest of the world already considers them an item? and the pining is mostly about stuff like ahhhh I wanna tell him I love him or ahhhhhh god I wanna kiss him, but then they’ll fall asleep on the couch together or hold hands just for the hell of it or cook for each other or make plans that always involve each other and all in all act as each other’s partner, so it’s mostly just like *Kaminari voice* “God these oblivious idiots” hahaha

Anon said:That latest Akane comic melted my heart like you often do. Though for a moment, I expected Eijirou to say "I don't want Katsuki to be my dad, I want him to be my daddy" XD Though that would not sound like him. Props for his adorable interactions with Scarlet Death Queen Witch.

Anon you don’t get it that’s exactly why I had him say “be his son” instead of “be my dad” LMAO it was like, a conscious wording decision hahaha thank you so much for liking my girl, btw!!!

Anon said:Fran! I was just wondering if you would be willing to post your Demon Kiri and Angel Baku art on Redbubble? I'd love to buy a print of it!! Totally understand if not. Also your newer Akane comics are killing me, they're so damn cute!! So yeah love you and your beautiful art! Hope you have an awesome year!!

I CAN TRY I think I did try last time I updated my rb? But the format of the pic made it hard to use it for a lot of things so I gave up??? I can try again tho!!! Thank you for being interested in buying it!!! And thank you for liking Akane too!!!!!

Anon said:is katsuki and kirishima not together in the adopted child comics or is there gonna be a plot to them getting together? 👀

I’m not really writing anything cohesive for it so I wouldn’t call it a plot point, but yeh they still aren’t together! And I wanna have them get to the point in which they are together!!! :D

Anon said:I'm gonna die why do you do this with your adorable art my god

PLEASE!!!!! DON’T DIE!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:Your Akane + KiriBaku comics are adorable and I love the relationships that exist between them. I can't wait to see more of them!

Thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!! I hope I won’t disappoint!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anon said:I love your art so much!! Especially the little Akane au (so freaking cute!!!!). Random question: if you’ve ever seen Lucifer, who do you think would fit his character? Have an awesome day!

I haven’t seen it, sorry :((( but thank you for liking my girl!!!!!!

Anon said:I apologize if this has already been thought of but i feel as though when akane gets older and if she decides to be a hero, part of her costume could include useful red objects mayhaps?? Such as a shield or daggers or handcuffs so if there’s a lack of red around her she isn’t in a complete ditch. But i love your work sm ahhh💕💕

Yes!!! That’s the plan!!!!! I don’t think I’ll ever draw a teen version of her character but I MIGHT mention this idea in the current timeline, I like the idea so much TT^TT

Anon said:Hey there, I am absolutely obsessed with Akane like I love her so much wow but anyways I was wondering if you've ever drawn tododeku/ will in the future?

Thank you!!!! And I have drawn them in the past (under my tododeku tag!) and I might draw them again in the future, though currently I’m in a pretty big izu//ocha mood so I dunno when that will happen!

Anon said:I love your art so much like??? Help???

THANK YOU TTATT

Anon said:Y'know it could be gayer c'mon

This ask has been in my inbox for 17 days and I still don’t know what it means ??? but I laughed a lot when I got it so thank you anon and yes, definitely, everything could always be gayer that’s just how the world goes

Anon said:I swear you drew an older version of the krbk kids and it wasn't a fever dream I'm currently frantically searching through your blog rn help

I DID that post is CURSED anon, you can look it up through any of the tags I used to tag it and it won’t show up it won’t and I don’t know why!! I always lose it exactly because of this reason I have zero idea why it does this but??? okay I guess???????????

anyway if you still want it it’s here

Anon said:If Akane can control red things, does she low-key also have control over things that are pink and orange depending on how reddish in hue they are? I love her btw. Such a smol bean who could probably kick my ass!

What a good question you got there!! She has control over everything that has a color that falls in the red wavelength of the visible spectrum - that does include certain tones of pink and certain tones of orange, but there’s a point where orange gets too yellow or pink gets too white that her powers stop working. As long as the red in the color is more than any other hue, though, her powers work!

Anon said: im just imagining if baku takes akane with him when he is going to work and is there with kiri and akane help kiri with his hair bc she is suffering when he tries to style it himself

Once they start getting along better Akane and Kiri actually start helping each other with their hair! They’re both very particular about it so they understand each other as far as that topic goes haha

Anon said:Hi I just wanted to say I’m really enjoying what you are doing in your latest drawing. The contrast with the thick sketchy lines and the thinner crisp ones and the spaces that have no defined line! It’s cool to see you experiment with your line work while staying true to your natural style! Sorry if this came off weird but I love seeing talented artists try pushing the boundaries of their style it’s really visually/conceptually interesting! :)

AH MAN thank you so much I’m so happy to know you like that tool TT^TT it’s really super comfy to use, so it’s nice to know someone finds it visually appealing too!!! thank you!!!!!

Anon said:Is there any chance you could make a masterpost of the aus you do? It's a lot to scroll down to the beginning of a concept u have sometimes and it can be unclear when they start

They all have a tag they’re under, tho? If I’ve made more than one post about them! I have so many AUs going around that making a masterpost with all of them is a bit... mostly so since I don’t know for how many I’ll actually go back on! But if the tags don’t really work for you (generally the link is gonna look like https://franeridart.tumblr.com/tagged/[here goes the tag]/chrono to have it in chronological order) then I can try? I can’t promise I’ll find a comfortable way to do this, tho orz sorry!

Anon said:This might be an odd ask but does Akane like Jirou? I feel like they would get along really well. And how about her grandma Mitsuki? Since she takes after Katsu who takes after her, they could make an adorably angry trio

She hasn’t spent much time with Jirou yet so right now she’s mostly meh about her (though right now she only actually likes Bakugou, and she’s warming up to Kiri, but that’s about it). She doesn’t mind Mitsuki, but she hasn’t spent too long with her either! She yells a bit too much at her dad tho, which Akane isn’t particularly fond of (protective bean that she is, she doesn’t get that that’s just their way of communicating just yet), so out of her grandparents she prefers Masaru, after all~

#fran answers #a bunch of asks i had forgotten about after closing the inbox!!!#jesus im a disaster #i was sure i had a couple asks more in here but i can't find them so...???#ah well #either way i'm sorry these took so long my brain is seriously all over the place lately #go d s #anonymous

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