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peachhcs · 6 months ago

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she's not her.

hughes!sister x will smith au (samy + will)

will thinks the combine will help him get his mind off samy, but that completely backfires when he realizes she's everywhere with him.

3.2k words

hiii here's the first (new) installment of the new breakup timeline of the au!! (also so long wow) i'm writing four of the major points of the breakup into fics, but if you guys want smaller blurbs about any of it, send them to the inbox. cassidy is a completely fake character here, but zeev and james are real people! (i don't know the other boys too well, sorry!!)

au masterlist

“yeah, mom. it’s going great,” will hummed as he shuffled around his room searching for his keycard despite him already being ten minutes late.

the boy could never keep his belongings straight whenever he stayed in a hotel room by himself. how did he even manage before? the answer hit will before he could even really think about it because you know who was always with him on these things?

he knew who and he was not going to say her name. will promised himself he’d use this week to just forget about all of his problems and just enjoy getting to know the other guys here and that meant he was not going to say—

“samy’s mom called me earlier. she asked about you,” damn it. whatever his mom was saying before didn’t process in his brain because he snapped right back into reality as soon as the name left his mom’s lips.

and why on earth was she referring to ellen as “samy’s mom.” will knew his mom always, always called her ellen. she probably read his mind or something knowing he was trying (and failing) to not think about her this week.

“oh. okay,” will didn’t know what to say, so he continued searching for the stupid keycard.

“i told her you were at the combine having fun. she told me samy’s at her sleepaway camp for the week too,” mrs. smith continued even though she knew will didn’t want to talk about samy at all.

“mom, can you not?” the boy mumbled.

“can i not what, will? she’s still a part of this family, so i am gonna ask about her and tell you because i know you still care,” colleen had a point and the blonde hated it because she was right.

he did care. of course, he cared no matter how much he didn’t want to. that was the hardest part about all of this.

“i gotta go. i’m already running a bit late. i’ll talk to you later, mom. love you,” they exchanged their goodbyes as soon as will found what he wanted under a pile of clothes in the corner.

“thank god,” the boy mumbled as raced out of his room to where some of the guys he met were waiting down in the lobby.

will felt so new to all of this—the media, the sudden popularity, the press. these guys seemed so used to it all yet he was so lost in it all still. he spotted his new friends in some of the chairs awaiting his presence, so he mustered up his best smile as he approached them.

“there you are, smitty. where were you?” zeev spots the blonde first, his legs hung over the armrest of the chair.

“sorry, i lost my keycard. i had to find it before i left,” will explained a bit embarrassingly. the other guys laughed him off though and that’s when the blonde noticed a few girls mixed into the group now. a few of them sent eyes his way, whispering things to one another which made will’s cheeks flush a slight pink color, but not in the blushing kind of way.

“come on, i’m starving. those lines got me wanting anything,” cole muttered as the group pushed themselves to the door. the five of them plus the three new girls walked down the sidewalk chatting about anything in hopes of taking their minds off food until they found something.

“hey, you’re will, right?” the new voice caught the blonde off guard.

to his right was one of the new girls in the group he didn’t really know. her name was along the lines of cassidy, but he wasn’t 100% sure. “yeah, that’s me,” he laughed lightly.

“nice to finally meet you. i’m cassidy, but everyone calls me cass,” she held her hand out with a big smile. will stared at her outstretched hand for a moment, his mind running in circles.

this could be his chance to finally forget about samy. he said he needed an distraction and this seemed like the perfect one. plus, what was the harm in a little flirting? he took her hand a moment later.

“nice to meet you, too. you play for minnesota, right?” will wondered, watching cass’s eyes light up that he even knew that about her.

“yeah, i do!”

“you guys had a real good season. i was impressed,” her smile continued growing with will’s words.

“yeah, we did. i mean, you guys were incredible, too. you dominated the ice,” she gushed a little making will flush. he knew people watched his games from all over the place, but he never paid much attention to all of that.

not when he was always thinking about samy watching the livestream from her dorm room while cheering him on. wait. no.

no. there was no samy.

“thanks. it wasn’t always easy, but the fans made it worth it,” the boy hummed. cass grinned again, letting their conversation die into comfortable silence as they followed their group into a restaurant someone chose.

the young hockey player spotted rutger and some of his buddies at a nearby table making him stop in his tracks for a second. he knew rut would be here, but he just hoped he’d manage to avoid him because he knew the older boy probably hated him knowing what happened between him and samy.

some of the guys behind him pushed will forward again. his eyes glued themselves to where rutger sat in a laughing fit over what someone at his table said. the older boy held his chest, violently shaking from laughter and finally looked in will’s direction. the two met each other’s gazes and in a surprise gesture, rutger nodded toward the younger boy.

that threw will off guard. he studied rut for a second longer until someone pushed him forward again and he landed in his seat.

“woah, careful smitty. you okay?” james laughed a little as he walked around to his seat. the others glanced will’s way.

“yeah, sorry. got a little distracted,” the blonde excused himself, eyes diverting to the menu to get the attention off of him. the others shrugged, returning to their conversation while will’s eyes stayed right on his menu.

“what’s your favorite food?” cass’s voice filled will’s ears again. he looked up, her eyes already on him where she sat in the seat next to his.

“anything, really. i tend to eat anything,” the boy mumbled with an awkward smile.

“hey, i’m the same way. i’ve never been too picky about my food,” she returned his smile.

“my sister’s a big picky eater. our mom was always making three different meals for the family because we were all eating different things,” the blonde chuckled as some of the nerves he had earlier started subsiding.

the two quickly hit it off, having their own little conversations throughout lunch. will’s smile was big when cass laughed at the things he said and he laughed right back at her own corny jokes. it felt refreshing for the blonde. he suddenly didn’t have this heavy feeling in his chest anymore that he’s had since the end of may. this felt really good.

but what did they say about good things? they never lasted long? something like that.

will’s gaze would bounce over to where rutger still was every so often. the older boy was never looking in his direction when will looked, too occupied with his own conversations, but rut did glance over at the younger blonde when he wasn’t looking too.

rut only heard bits and pieces about the breakup, but he knew samy was really hurt from all of it and while the older hockey player wasn’t one to involve himself in things that he wasn’t a part of, he couldn’t but watch what looked like will laugh a little too hard with that girl.

sure, will could do whatever he wanted and rutger didn’t care. the boy did care, however, about the fact that it looked like will was trying to talk up a new girl not even two weeks after breaking up with samy. that bothered rutger because he knew if ethan or mark were here, they wouldn’t be afraid to go over and bitch at will.

rutger’s subtle glances finally caught will’s. the blonde was in the middle of a conversation with cass when he caught the glance from the corner of his eye. rut was looking right a him with a look on his face that will knew wasn’t good.

“you good?” cass wondered when she noticed will’s attention shift.

the boy’s attention immediately snapped back to hers, “yeah, sorry. my bad. what was i saying?” his words rushed out together making him come off a bit nervous.

“something about…sumer on a boat or something?” cass reminded him.

“right, yes. yeah. so, as i was saying,” will’s mind couldn’t stop thinking about rutger’s look. it felt like a warning or..disapproval? disappointment?

why could he never escape samy no matter how hard he tried? it was like she was everywhere.

“every summer my family and i go to this lakehouse in michigan. my best friend and i—well, used to be best best friend would always stay up super late to see how many planets we could count. whoever counted the most by the end of the summer would buy one another something the other really wanted,” will hummed, somehow always finding ways to talk about samy without even realizing it. a small smile was on his lips at that memory because he was the one buying samy things by the end of the summer every time.

“huh, that sounds interesting. aren’t the same planets always coming out at night though so how does that work?” cass’s expression became puzzled.

will’s gaze snapped to hers, his face flushing again. “i mean, yeah, but different ones will come out and go away as the summer goes on. it was just some little thing..” the boy’s voice trailed off as he slowly realized that game only really made sense to him and samy because they were the ones who came up with it when they were younger.

cass didn’t look too impressed though. the blonde’s eyes swept over to rutger again who wasn’t looking at him this time, but will still couldn’t get that look out of his head nor the fact that he talked about samy without even trying after trying so hard to forget about her this week.

it seemed like everything will did or said led him straight back to samy. shit.

who was he kidding? he couldn’t flirt with someone. he didn’t even know how to flirt because he never really had to with samy.

cass’s attention drifted away from the boy and no one else was really looking at him, so will took that as his chance to excuse himself. he needed air or something to just get out of his fucking head. the boy scrambled out of his seat in a rushed goodbye, hurrying off to the bathroom before anyone could really bat an eye.

rutger’s gaze fell on the younger boy as he retreated further back into the restaurant. he saw will’s friends glancing around for a moment before letting him be. the older brunette gazed one more time before saying fuck it and going after will.

the blonde stumbled into the bathroom suddenly feeling hot. his hand clutched his chest where his heart wouldn’t stop pounding a bruise on the spot while his other hand grabbed ahold of the edge of the counter, bending over the sink as if he was going to puke. will squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that would slow his heart rate down, but it only heightened as his breathing picked up into heavy pants.

“fuck, pull yourself together,” will mumbled to mostly himself.

she’s not her. she’s not her. she’s not her. the stupid phrase replayed itself over and over in will’s mind.

the bathroom door swung open with rutger rushing to will’s side when he saw the kid bent over the sink while panting. “jesus christ, will? are you okay?” the older brunette bent down to will’s level, trying to meet his eyes.

“i can’t breathe,” will managed through his hyperventilating.

rutger looked around, realizing no one else was in the bathroom with them. he wasn’t really an expert in this, never really having dealt with panic attacks before.

“hey, yes you can. it’s okay. i’m here,” rutger tried his best, his attention back on will.

“she’s not her,” now the blonde was crying.

“what are you talking about?” the older hockey player grew confused. the heavy pants and now tears didn’t make it easy for him to understand what was being said.

“she won’t ever be her. i fucked up, rut,” will got out a bit clearer this time.

rutger quickly understood.

“do you want me to call her? i can call her?” rut eased his tone, finishing for his phone in his pocket.

“no, no. don’t,” will shook his head. he couldn’t call samy like this. plus, she didn’t want to speak to him ever again, making it very clear after blocking him on nearly everything.

“will, i gotta call someone. you’re freaking me out,” the older boy said.

“call gabe or ryan. i need to talk to them,” so rutger listened and searched his contacts until he landed on ryan’s number first.

the phone rang three times until ryan finally answered. “rutger? what’s up?” the younger brunette sounded confused that the michigan hockey player was randomly calling him.

“hey, sorry for the call. i-i’m with will. he’s..he’s having a panic attack i think. he wanted to talk to you,” rutger explained the situation, eyes on will who’s breathing began slowing down.

“shit, is he okay?” ryan urged.

“i-i think so? i don’t know. i’m not an expert in this,” rut held the phone out for will to take.

the blonde’s shaky hand brought the phone up to his ear, “hey leno,” he managed weakly.

“will? are you okay?” ryan’s voice was laced with concern. he never called will by his first name unless there was something serious going on.

the guilt and shame quickly settled into will’s body. his eyes glanced to rutger standing beside him still and then his head fell. “i fucked up, ryan. i realize i fucked up now.”

“what are you talking about?” ryan didn’t get it.

“everything brings me back to her. no can be her no matter how hard i think they are or want them to be,” the blonde frowned deeply, especially because he was admitting this in front of one of samy’s closest guy friends.

ryan didn’t need to ask twice who his friend was talking about while a pause came from his end as he digested will’s admission. rutger realized this seemed like a conversation he wasn’t a part of, so he just squeezed the blonde’s shoulder and nodded towards the door saying to just find him when will was done with his phone.

“i’m gonna add gabe to the call, okay?” ryan finally said as will sunk down onto the ground. he didn’t care that the bathroom floor was incredibly disgusting because he could not go back out and face his friends out there without muttering some lame excuse about leaving.

“uh, hey?” gabe connected a moment later, confused about why he was on a call with ryan and rutger mcgroarty.

“hey, it’s me. will’s on the call with rutger’s phone,” ryan explained.

“oh. is everything okay?” gabe wondered, still confused on what was happening.

“i fucked up really bad. i know that now,” will said and gabe also didn’t have to ask twice about what his friend was talking about.

“what made you finally come to this conclusion?” ryan asked, trying not to sound bitter. he knew will was having a hard time, but he would not forget samy showing up to his house in tears after their breakup.

“i really, really thought i could just forget about her at the combine and just enjoy myself, but everytime i talk to someone, i always end up talking about her no matter how hard i try not to. she’s everywhere in my mind. i thought i could stupidly talk to this girl..be a distraction? i don’t know, but i think i just really wanted her to be samy instead,” will admitted sheepishly.

“yeah..that happens after having such a history with someone,” gabe said.

“i know i fucked up. you don’t need to keep telling me that. i feel like shit about it,” will scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit.

“as much as i hate you for doing what you did and never wanting to see samy that hurt again, maybe you should talk to her,” ryan finally said, tone softening out.

“i can’t talk to her even if i wanted to. she blocked me on everything almost immediately,” the blonde frowned.

“look, we all make mistakes. it’s human nature. are you an asshole for hurting her? yes. am i still mad at you for it? yes. do i think you fucked up completely though? no. maybe give it some more time and then reach out. things are still fresh, emotions are still high. we all know samy and we know she doesn’t hold a grudge for that long,” gabe gave his two cents about it as well.

“i wouldn’t blame her if she did hold a grudge for a while though,” ryan cut in.

“jesus, shut up, leno. i get it,” the blonde rolled his eyes.

“look, we’re always here for you, will. I’ll be in boston next, so i’ll see you and we can talk more, yeah?” gabe spoke again before ryan and will started fighting or something.

“yeah, thanks. sorry for bothering you guys,” will frowned a bit.

“don’t sweat it. love ya, smitty,” that made will smile again.

“yeah, love you i guess. just try to have a good time for the rest of the week,” ryan said and will nodded even though they couldn’t see him.

“thanks, love you guys too. talk later,” they hung up after that.

will pushed himself back to his feet, splashing water on his face to hopefully get rid of his red and flushed cheeks. he carefully pushed the bathroom door back open, surveying the restaurant for rutger’s table.

the boy made his way over, nudging rutger’s arm when he was closer. the older boy looked over, “thanks,” will said.

“of course. you okay, now?”

the blonde nodded. he glanced to his table where a few of the guys met his gaze, waving him over. he walked towards them, already having decided he wasn’t all that hungry anymore and just wanted to be alone for a bit.

“there you are! you good?” zeev asked seeing his friend.

“yeah, not feeling too well. i think i’m gonna head back. sorry,” will muttered out his excuse.

“oh, okay. feel better man. text me,” zeev said and will nodded before making his exit.

he didn’t even look cassidy’s way. the only girl on his mind was samy and it was gonna stay like that for a long time.

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lexosaurus · 2 years ago

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Everything Was White: Part 18

[see all chapters]

read on: [ao3] [ffn]

Summary: After being accidentally revealed to the public and taken away by the government, Danny deals with the aftermath of his time with the GiW.

---

There was a video in the morning. A hidden paparazzi camera, he found out. The video was sold to TMZ and subsequently reuploaded to every social media site within the hour.

“Danny Fenton can walk?!” was the caption of the one Danny was currently watching on TikTok. It was a video of him approaching the stairs, and—ugh—struggling to climb them. He could see Tucker’s (fake) smile and Sam’s concerned oversight. His legs wobbled as they ascended each step, his gate abnormal.

And as internet culture dictated, the comments were sure to point everything out.

ok but why do his legs look like that 💀💀💀

>don’t be gross, he’s clearly got some medical issues

My cousin is paraplegic and Danny walks similar to him.

Y’all are freaking out like there aren’t videos of him already in physical therapy 🤦

Wtf happened to him?

I know this isn’t supposed to be funny but it kind of is

>stfu he’s a minor

>>So? He’s a celebrity, he can take it

These comments are horrible. This kid clearly got abused during his imprisonment and has suffered lasting damage, and there are people here who think it’s funny because he walks differently now? That’s disgusting, and as a disabled person myself, it’s horrible to see so many comments and likes making fun of him. Surprise, disabilities affecting motor function make people look different when they perform said motor functions. Grow up.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. This was exactly what he was afraid of. It was the entire reason why he had been avoiding walking in public.

He hadn’t even seen anyone around them. Had someone followed the van all the way to Tucker's house? Did this mean that Tucker and his family were going to get stalked too?

Ugh, ugh! This was horrible. And now he had to go to school where everyone would have seen that video too?

Fuck.

He peeked out his window, and beyond the recently installed tall fence lining the property, Danny could see a circle of paparazzi and media vans parked along the sidewalk.

This was insanity. It wasn’t like this was the first video of him walking in general; there were videos and pictures of him at PT. Sure, he was being supported by the other physical therapists and equipment, but he was still walking. It just happened that this was the first video taken of him in public, which Danny guessed was enough for the algorithms to grab hold of.

His family was so lucky the neighbors seemed understanding of the media circus that was now their life. Although, Jazz had mentioned bringing cookies over to a few of them before…

“It’ll die down,” Danny reminded himself. “Once they get bored, they’ll move on.”

But even that sounded like a lie the more he said it. Because unless another half-ghost stepped into the public eye, it didn’t seem like there would be anyone to take the spotlight off of him anytime soon.

He checked Twitter and…yep, he was the top trending topic on there too.

Fucking hell, did no one have anything better to do?

His inbox was flooded, and his notifications were worse. Danny was glad he had turned off all social media alerts on his phone ages ago. His phone would have probably caught on fire with the rate he was being tagged in tweets.

He closed his eyes and exhaled, breathing just like his therapist had taught him. In, two, three…out, two three.

Okay, so what if everyone knew what he looked like when he walked now? It wasn’t like he could keep this hidden forever. If anything, his physical therapists were probably just relieved he’d finally ripped the band-aid off because now he had no excuse to continue avoiding walking in public.

And was that really a bad thing? More practice meant strengthening his muscles, which meant that he would be closer and closer to ditching the walker for crutches.

He absentmindedly scrolled through his notifications, until one blue-checkmarked name caught his eye:

Izaak Adams @izaakadamsCongrats to @dannyphantom for kicking ass in PT! It’s amazing to see the progress you’ve made since I saw you last. Soon, you’ll be outpacing me! Keep working hard 💪

Danny frowned at the screen. Had that guy met him? As far as Danny remembered, he hadn’t met any celebrities since his release. Was this guy lying for clout or something?

Danny clicked on his profile and read his bio. “Paralympic Gold Medalist and Video Game Enthusiast”

Paralympic gold medalist? Why did that ring a bell?

Danny racked his memories for anything, but he drew a blank. Did he know this guy? Or maybe he was reading too much into this tweet?

A knuckle rapped on his door. “Danny?” came Jazz’s muffled voice. “You awake?”

Danny looked up. “Hey, Jazz? Do I know a guy named Izaak Adams?”

Jazz opened the door to reveal her baggy sweats and messy bun. “Huh?”

“Izaak Adams, a paralympic athlete?” Danny held up his phone. “He tweeted at me almost like we’ve met?”

Jazz’s confused frown was replaced by a look of surprise. “Yeah, I remember, you have met him!”

“Really? When?”

“At the hospital one time, he came to visit? When you were first learning to use your wheelchair.”

Fragments of that memory hit him, and on instinct, Danny cringed. Oh yeah, how could he have forgotten what an underweight, stuttering, dazed mess he’d been? Ugh, how embarrassing.

Jazz stifled a giggle. “Oh come on, it was cute! He was so supportive and patient.”

“Yeah, but—”

Jazz shot him a doting glare. “Danny, anyone looking at you could see that you were in intense recovery. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting the Phantom when he went to meet you. Cut yourself a bit of slack.”

Danny looked back down at his phone. “Yeah. You’re right.”

He contemplated what to do for a few seconds before an impulsive, teenage fuck it crossed his brain. He shrugged, opened the tweet, and hit reply.

Danny Phantom @dannyphantom Replying to @izaakadamsThank you for the support! Better watch out, I’m coming for your title as the gold medalist in Hospital Hallway Racing.

There. That was equal parts easygoing and funny enough to show the press and public alike that no, he wasn’t self-conscious about the way he looked, fuck off.

Jazz glanced down at her phone and snorted.

“Good response?” Danny guessed.

“Perfect. Now get ready for school!”

---

As expected, the police were escorting the paparazzi off the property when he arrived at Casper High that morning.

It wasn’t like Danny was able to use his walker at school anyway.

Still, the murmurs from classmates followed him into the building, and the sideways glances to outright stares trailed behind him in the halls.

Fantastic. Just when he thought his classmates might be getting used to him, the world had to backtrack. Part of him wanted to turn around and snark, “Fascinating news, guys, the elusive creature known as the halfa learned to walk! What an amazing step in evolution this was!” But he bit his tongue. His wit wasn’t worth whatever backlash the internet would make of it.

Danny rounded the corner and spotted Sam and Tucker hanging around their lockers. Their fight and the weight of Sam’s unresponded text were still fresh in his mind, but he took a deep breath and pressed forward.

“Hey, guys,” Danny said awkwardly.

They turned around, apprehension etched on their faces.

“Hey, Danny. What’s up?” Tucker asked.

If Sam looked desperate to say something, Danny wasn’t going to entertain her. “Nothing. My morning’s been uneventful as usual.”

Tucker fidgeted with his cap, looking sheepish. “I honestly didn’t see anyone around yesterday. They must have been hiding behind the bushes or something.”

“It’s fine, Tuck,” Danny said. “It’s not like this wasn’t going to happen soon anyway. And besides, the—the embarrassing part is done now.”

“It’s not embarrassing, Danny,” Sam rebuked. “It’s admirable if anything. The comments I’ve seen have been very supportive.”

“Sure, some of them.”

“Most of them.”

“Sam, I appreciate the pep talk, but it’s fine. Really.” When Sam’s adamant expression refused to let up, Danny reiterated, “It’s fine. There are other—other videos of me walking online. This is just the one every–everyone saw. I don’t care.”

“Good.” Tucker closed his locker door. “In an incredibly important change of topic, we never saw the new Dead Teacher movie!”

“You guys didn’t watch it?” Danny asked.

Tucker gave Danny an incredulous look. “Without you?”

“I don’t know, I figured me being out of commission was enough of an excuse.”

“Did you not read my texts? I said we weren’t gonna watch it without you. Really, Danny, do you think so low of me?”

Danny tapped into his bullshit meter, trying to gauge if Tucker was lying—it wouldn’t be the first time—but for once, nothing pinged his radar.

“We should just marathon the whole series now that they’re all on Netflix,” Sam said. “You guys can come over next weekend and we can play them in my home theater.”

“You, Sam, have a truly wonderful brain,” Tucker said.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll believe it when you can say that while eating a salad.”

“Don’t push it, woman.”

“That’s what I thought.” Sam rolled her eyes and turned to Danny. “You up for it?”

Danny hesitated, his hold on his wheelchair tightening. “I thought I wasn’t allowed at your house?”

“Yeah, but you’re a—oh…right. I forgot.” Sam slapped her hand to her forehead and groaned. “Damn, I forgot you don’t have your powers still. Shit, sorry, guys.”

“I don’t have a fancy home system or anything, but you guys can come over to my place,” Tucker offered.

“Thanks, Tuck,” Sam said.

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw Principal Ishiyama stare at him for a moment too long before scurrying down the hall.

Weird.

He tried to shake the uncomfortable squirming in his gut. “Yeah, Tuck, sounds good.”

“And this time…” Tucker leaned down cheekily. “Maybe you can try to not kill yourself getting to my bedroom.”

Sam and Danny both reacted immediately, shouting a chorus of “Tucker!” and “Dude!” They briefly made eye contact before Tucker’s evil cackling snapped Danny back to focus.

“That’s a cheap shot! No fair!” Danny moaned. “You can’t—this—this is bullying.”

If anything, Tucker grinned wider. “Fine, then next time I won’t save your sorry ass from a life of embarrassment the next time you try to launch yourself to the top step because you’re too lazy to climb up the stairs.”

“You have a lot of stairs!”

“My house has a perfectly reasonable amount of stairs.”

“No, I call foul,” Danny protested. “You’re literally picking on the disabled kid. Unreal.”

Tucker patted Danny’s shoulder. “Sure, okay, ghost boy.”

“That was a very dangerous move, though, Danny,” Sam said. “You could have fallen.”

“Eh, cut him some slack. Walkers are really annoying.”

“Don’t encourage this, Tucker!”

“I got your back, Danny.”

But Danny wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. Something else had caught his attention. A deep laugh, one so familiar it had sent a shockwave of ice shooting through his veins. If it weren’t for the chip, he was sure he’d be covered in ecto-frost.

He stared across the hallway, his breath frozen in his throat. Time slowed around him, and the conversational voices of Sam and Tucker melted away into the background.

No...it couldn’t be…

He must have been hallucinating. His mind was playing tricks on him. There was just no way that he was actually here in the hallway of Casper High.

No way it was true.

But it was.

There, in full view of the entire student body, was Operative O himself. His white suit gleamed against the dull cream and red of the high school. He stood against a row of lockers with his chest out, sunglasses covering his eyes, and a smirk splayed on his lips as he conversed with Principal Ishiyama.

No.

Danny needed to run away. Flee. Get out of sight.

But he couldn’t. It was as if his wheelchair was cemented to the ground. He was trapped, staring at the man who had made it his life’s work to ruin Danny’s.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Operative O’s head turned until it locked onto Danny. His smirk widened and his sunglasses positively glistened. He brought a hand up above his shoulders and waggled his fingers at Danny.

Fear was replaced by hot anger. That bastard was waving as if he and Danny were longtime friends.

“Hey, Danny?” Tucker poked his shoulder. “Isn’t that…?”

The unsaid question hung in the air like a dark cloud.

Sam’s expression hardened. “What are they doing here?”

But Danny was seething. His stomach churned in fury, and the corners of his vision tinged green. Adrenaline spiked in his veins, and he could feel his core screaming against its restraints.

Before he could so much as think, Danny was whizzing down the hall. When he got close enough, he abandoned his wheelchair altogether, pushing himself up and gripping onto the lockers for support for the final few steps. Ishiyama gave him a warning look, along with a subtle shake of her head, but Danny wasn’t listening to her.

If it weren’t for this fucking chip, he probably would have transformed into Phantom right in the middle of the damn hall.

“What the hell are you doing?” Danny hissed. Despite his fury, his palms were clammy against the metal lockers.

“Why if it isn’t Danny Phantom. What a coincidence it is to see you here.”

Operative O’s slimy voice pierced him at once, and Danny nearly crumpled to the ground. Memories came rushing back, transporting him far away to a dark, musty place where the air smelled putrid and his skin was wet and sticky. Where he never knew what time it was, where his stomach felt sick with hunger, where he begged for anyone to find him, rescue him.

“I’m doing a routine inspection. Your school installed ecto-shields, and it’s my job to make sure they’re working properly. Nothing that concerns you,” Operative O purred, leaning in to pull what appeared like a dog tag on a silver chain from his pocket. “And might I congratulate you on how wonderful it is to see you walking again. If we were back at the research center, I would even give you a little treat.”

Danny’s blood ran cold, and he stopped breathing.

Operative O chuckled, standing back up and slipping the chain out of sight. “Now if you don’t mind, Ishiyama, I’d like to see those shields you mentioned…”

Danny’s ears rang, that laugh echoing over and over like a broken vinyl. He looked up, but Mr. Lancer had inserted himself in front of Danny, blocking O from view. The world tilted, and Danny gave up. He rested his head on the locker just in time for Sam and Tucker to catch up with him, their voices muddying into the background. The world was spinning, the entire hallway was probably watching, and Danny was just trying not to throw up.

A heavy hand fell on his back, and Danny barely caught the low murmur in his ear. “...my office?”

Danny nodded, not sure what he was agreeing to, but just knowing he had about five seconds to get out of the hallway before he was going to faint on the floor.

Thankfully, the hands were strong, and they held him upright as they guided him forward. Sam grabbed his arm, steadying him as well. Mr. Lancer said something, and Danny recognized Sam’s protesting tone in her response, but Lancer’s voice was sharper.

Sam huffed and squeezed his arm, and then his friends were gone just in time for what sounded like helicopters to womp in his ears and the spinning to reach a climax. He was pushed through the door and immediately felt his hand hit something behind him.

Danny collapsed onto his wheelchair and gasped, taking his first breath of air in too long. But his throat tightened again and he panicked, trying to breathe through the coffee straw that was his lungs.

A hand once again landed on his back, and a voice spoke soothingly into his ear.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Mr. Lancer said.

Danny shook his head and clawed at his shirt. Was his shirt choking him? Had the Operatives drugged him again? Is that why the world was spinning, why his arms were shaking so violently?

“It’s okay. Breathe, you’re okay.”

Danny clutched at his core, demanding whatever flickering bit of invisibility he could muster at whatever limbs were the closest. He couldn’t cloak his entire body in it, but the small whispers of his core powers were just enough to not send him into a complete meltdown.

“Why?” Danny finally gasped out. “Why?”

Mr. Lancer didn’t answer. Danny didn’t know if this was because he didn’t actually know the answer or if he just felt like Danny shouldn’t hear it.

Danny’s throat squeezed tighter. He glanced down at his bag and could feel the weight of the emergency pills. He was desperate for one. But he couldn’t, not in Lancer’s office.

Mr. Lancer pulled his chair beside Danny and sat down. He kept his voice low, whispering “it’s alright, it’s okay” as he waited for Danny to get himself under control.

But as soon as the dizziness ceased and the world righted again, Danny’s ragged breaths melted into sobs.

He bent forward, hiding his face in his hands. He could taste the ghost of the red bag on his tongue, and he could feel the plastic tube being shoved down his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply as it reached for his stomach. He felt the pain in his back, his chest, the phantom nerves in his legs firing off any way they could.

He felt Operative O thread his fingers down his torso, exploring the blank canvas prime to decorate with green.

“I didn’t want it,” Danny choked out. “I…”

His stomach turned, and he clamped his hands over his mouth, gagging.

Mr. Lancer was quick to react, shoving a waste bin under Danny’s chin just in time for Danny to empty the contents of his breakfast into it.

Mr. Lancer’s hand was on his back, rubbing circles as Danny’s head lurched forward once again. He coughed, spitting bile and stomach acid into the bin. The warmth in his body had never felt so uncomfortable before, so dizzying.

Danny shook his head, mumbling, “I didn’t want it.”

“I know,” Mr. Lancer responded quietly.

“I didn’t—I just—I just wanted the granola bars. It wasn’t my—” Danny choked on his voice. He shook his head, trying to force out the memories that flickered past the back of his eyes.

He just needed to reach his hand out and grab the granola bar. That’s all he needed to do. So why couldn’t he do it? Why did his mistake cost him the last shred of the dignity he was still clutching onto?

A fresh wave of tears fell from Danny’s eyes. “I—I’m not…” I’m not a dog, he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t.

Because he would be lying if he said he truly believed it.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead. Because he was sorry, truly, for continuing to be a burden on Mr. Lancer, a teacher Danny had spent the past two years disappointing over and over, a teacher who’d been forced to babysit him in detention dozens of times, a teacher who had now twice had to deal with him being an emotional fuckup.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

But that was a big fat fucking lie if Danny had ever heard one. And he should know, he was the master of lying.

---

His parents didn’t try to make him talk when they picked him up from school that day.

Danny was too busy staring out the window unseeing to talk anyway.

He didn’t remember getting inside. Couldn’t remember transferring out of the car or going into his house.

Maybe he should’ve been thankful that the wheelchair was autonomous now. Or whatever his doctor would tell him.

He blinked, and he was on the couch with a throw blanket over his body. Jazz was next to him, staring at the television as some reality show played. Danny’s gaze followed hers, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes noticed his movement. But he didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he much preferred to watch…

…

What was he doing?

There was this stillness over his body, in his mind. It was…quiet. Light.

It was nice.

He recognized this feeling. This lightness in his limbs, the calm in his body. The lack of pain, lack of burning from his nerves and muscles.

It was just. Relaxation. Pure tranquility.

He remembered then, the emergency pill he managed to sneak while Lancer and his parents slipped into another room to talk. And then a different pill his parents handed him moments later.

One that he’d taken while he was shaking, his body in shock, desperate for an ounce of relief.

When the world stopped, it was euphoric. The fog returned, blanketing his mind and shielding him from the realities just outside the door. He relaxed, accepting the fog like a long-lost brother. It stayed with him for hours, and he cherished every second of their time together, but now it was bidding adieu.

But this time, the loss didn’t seem so bad. There was no pain, no stress. It was only the calm with no storm to follow.

He closed his eyes and sank into the couch. He was tired, and the cushions and blankets felt so nice. He wasn’t in the cell—not even close—he was home with his sister. Safe, protected.

“Thanks, Jazz,” he murmured.

She didn’t respond, but he knew she heard him.

“What show’s on?”

“Survivor,” she said. “A rerun. Not sure which season.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The television droned on, and Danny heard the contestants bickering about…something or other.

Heh. That sucked for them.

“M’sorry.” Danny yawned. “Sorry for…you know…I hope I didn’t ruin your day. You babysitting me.”

“It’s fine, Danny, It’s not your fault. They shouldn’t have been there.”

“I don’t know…it sounds like they could be there.”

He heard Jazz shift beside him, and his eyes peeked open to see her attention fully diverted from the show.

“Danny—”

“Where’s Mom and Dad?”

“They’re with the lawyer.”

“Okay.” Danny’s eyelids felt heavy, and wisps of his core tickled his chest. “I need the chip out.”

She was quiet again.

“You understand why,” Danny said.

“I do.”

“I need Mom and Dad to—to remove it. If they don’t…”

“I wish I could help,” she said quietly.

“Then convince them. They won’t listen to me, I’m a ghost. You heard them, remember? I’m…my Obsession is influencing my brain. And…” He looked at the ceiling. “And, well, maybe it is. But Operative—the Guys in White were still there today. And I…I think I’ve seen them before today too. I thought I was…but no, I think it was them.”

Tears glittered in Jazz’s eyes.

“You have to convince them for me.”

“I’ll try my best. We can talk to them tonight together.”

Danny shook his head. “It’ll never work if I’m there. They think I’m crazy.”

“They don’t think that.”

“They’re scared of me. Or, the half of me they don’t like.”

“No.” Jazz wiped her eyes with her sleeves. “No, that’s not true.”

“I’m not deaf, Jazz. I heard them. Remember?”

“They love you so much, Danny. I promise. They’re scared for you.”

“What’s there to be scared for?” Danny pressed his finger into his thighs, feeling only the strange sensation of pressure in return. “It’s not like…I don’t know, it’s not like I’m banned from—banned from existing. That’s what the court case was all about, right?”

“Right.”

“And I’ve been in therapy for months. I go there every day. They know I’m not going to—to hurt myself.”

Jazz pressed her lips into a thin line. “I know.”

“So why don’t they?”

“This summer was…” She sighed. “This summer was hard, Danny. We’d all do it all over again if it meant getting you under legal protection, but the period you were gone? That was—it—” Her voice broke. “Not knowing if you were alive or dead, not hearing a word about you for weeks? That was terrifying. The last thing we remembered was you being carted off by the Guys in White and SWAT teams, knocked out, electrocuted, and then you were gone. Just like that. And when you were finally brought back to us…”

His eyes felt too dry for once. His body was too calm to rewake that pain.

“I know—I know it was so much worse for you. I know our experiences outside don’t even begin to compare to yours. I understand, and they do too. But in the flash of an eye, their entire world changed. They’re coping.”

“Their coping is going to get me killed, though.”

“The government can’t touch you.”

Anxious Danny might have snapped at that. But Anxious Danny wasn’t here right now. He continued in the same bland tone as before, “You have no idea what the government is capable of.”

Jazz’s expression tightened.

“If their reasoning for not giving me back control over my core is—is just that this summer was hard for them, then that’s a shit excuse. And it’s going to get me killed. That’s really—really…that’s really it.”

“I know. I’m not making excuses, I’m just explaining what’s going through their heads.”

“Then you need to talk to them. Because at—at this point, I’ve said everything I can.”

Jazz mopped at her face again, nodding. “I know.”

Danny reached his hand out, gently lowering it to her arm. He felt her stiffen before her free hand shot down to clutch his.

She was trembling.

“I need you, Jazz. You’re…you’re my sister. I need you to be on my side right now.”

“I am. I’ll try. We can bring it up tonight as a united front. I’ll lead the conversation.”

He gave her arm a gentle squeeze before breaking off the contact. He sank back into the cushions, closing his eyes. “Thanks.”

Jazz sniffled beside him.

---

Dinner was a quiet affair that evening. The painkillers had worn off, and Danny was itching to escape upstairs to lie down.

But Maddie insisted that he eat, so he picked at his bowl of noodles, not bothering to hide the fact that he really didn’t feel like putting anything down his throat at the moment.

Thankfully, his parents didn’t seem to want to fight him tonight.

“So…” Danny started.

Maddie took the bait. “We met with the lawyer today.”

“Okay, and?”

At Maddie’s despondent look, Jack took over, placing his hand on hers. “The government can’t touch you legally. We want to make that very clear. No matter what, they can’t take you.”

“But…” Danny prompted.

“But as far as everything else goes, at this current moment, we can’t do anything about them showing up in the same buildings as you.”

Danny wanted to laugh. Or cry.

Or both.

“We tried to file a no-contact or a restraining order,” Maddie said. “But due to the current laws, we can’t get anything. If the agents physically hurt you, then we might have a case. But unfortunately, as of right now, our hands are tied.”

“Nothing can be done,” Danny muttered numbly.

“I’m sorry, son,” Jack said. “We’re going to continue to see what other paths we can take. We won’t give up, I promise.”

Danny had always known that the Guys in White weren’t finished with him, that they were on a mission to cleanse the world of all things ecto. He knew that no matter where he went, they would follow.

But it still hurt to hear.

“So that’s it,” Danny said. “I just have to wait till they hurt me in front of everyone.”

“We’ll never let it get to that point,” Maddie said.

Danny shook his head, his eyes staring blankly at the table. “Okay.”

Because what could he say to that? He couldn’t just pretend like this was fine, like he was fine with this. Because that would have been so insane of a lie that not even his dad would have bought it.

Jazz’s eyes flickered between them. “There’s also the other thing we talked about before dinner, Mom.”

“I know.” Maddie looked to Jack for support. He gave a solemn nod, and she pressed forward, despite looking like she’d rather do anything else. “We know that your…halfa psychology makes situations like these difficult for you emotionally.”

Danny’s mood darkened instinctively. Any mention of his ghostly Obsession with his parents had a tendency to turn sour.

“I know that things haven’t exactly gone the way you’ve wanted them to. And I hope you understand that everything we’ve done has been for you and your safety.”

Yeah, because I’m so ‘safe’ that I can’t even defend myself, Danny internally quipped.

“We know that…protection…is something that’s important to you. And Mr. Lancer said that you, um, struggled after the confrontation,” Maddie said.

“I had a breakdown,” Danny stated, his dead tone surprising himself.

“Right,” Maddie said awkwardly.

“Jazz mentioned that the situation has gone directly against your core,” Jack said. “And we’re worried about that too.”

There was one way they could fix this, but Danny wasn’t going to be the one to say it. They knew what he was thinking.

Maddie sighed. “We were wondering if there was anything that you wanted to talk to us about. About this, your core, any of it.”

Danny didn’t let a single muscle twitch in his face. No way did they deserve a clue—not after they were the reason that Danny was completely defenseless against the Guys in White today.

They sat at the kitchen table listening to the hum of the fridge. The grandfather clock that Jack had built ticked on, each click seeming louder than the last.

And finally, Danny shrugged.

“Well,” Jazz said. “I think Danny has done a really good job at upholding his end of the bargain. And now we’re at a point where continuing in this trajectory is going to actively hurt his progress in therapy.”

“And we agree to a certain extent. But honey…”

“But nothing, Mom. We’ve talked about this: Danny is as much of a human as he is a ghost. It’s not fair to him or his psychology that he’s spent months without access to his core. And with the government making bolder moves such as this, it’s important to Danny—and me too—that he is secure.”

Danny didn’t like being talked about as if he were a test subject, but if this was what it took to get his core back, then so be it.

“The government is not going to touch him. Not unless they want to be sued to hell and back for violating court orders,” Maddie said.

Oh, he could scream.

“I’m not talking about that; I’m talking about how this affects Danny’s mental health. The whole point of the chip was to give him the safety he needed to heal, but the issue is that now the chip is actively interfering with the entire reason it was created.”

“But to go from zero to full powers right now…” Maddie drifted off.

Jack nodded. “I agree, it’s too much.”

“Well, you guys are the scientists. Figure out a way to adjust the power level on the chip, then.”

Danny’s eyes narrowed, snapping to Jazz. Just what in the world was she saying?

Jack pondered her proposition. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

“I know.” Jazz leaned back and folded her arms in that annoying fashion she did when she thought she’d won.

“Hun, I don’t even think that’s possible. To access those mechanics on the chip, we’d need to extract it from Danny,” Maddie said.

“Maybe!” Jack snapped his fingers. “This chip might not be flexible, but I bet we could build one that was! And we’d be able to remotely configure it!”

Immediately, Danny felt sick.

Apparently, Maddie didn’t, judging by the way her eyes lit up. “And then we could even program it to slowly fade its power levels! Oh, Jack, that’s brilliant.”

“Aren’t you glad you have such a genius for a husband?”

“I am!”

“Don’t worry, son, we’ll get you fixed up in no time!” Jack gave him a thumbs up.

Danny was careful to not let the mask slip from his face and betray how truly revolted he was by this plan.

A chip that let his parents remotely set how much control over his core he had? He couldn’t think of anything more dystopian.

Perhaps noticing his silence, Maddie prompted, “Honey?”

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

“You can say anything on your mind, dear. This is…we’re a team.”

Even as she said those words that had been repeated so many times before, her voice sounded unconfident.

Danny could have laughed at the irony.

“You already know what I’m going to say.” Danny’s eyes traveled up from the table until they pierced hers. “There’s nothing else.”

“Yes, and you understand why we can’t just give you free rein of your ghost powers, right?” she asked.

No.

“Yes.”

“And you know that—that you’re still safe, right? You’re still protected in the meantime?” Maddie asked.

He wasn’t safe.

“Yes, I know.”

“The law is final, son,” Jack said gently. “They can intimidate you all they want, but they will never be able to touch you at all.”

“Sure.”

“And pretty soon, you’ll start to have your powers back. Okay?” Maddie said.

Danny looked away. “I was just scared. That was all.”

---

Danny glared at the name on his screen. Never in his wildest dreams could he ever have imagined he would be willingly seeking this scum of the Earth out, but he had no other choice.

He was down to his last few pills, and with the escalating boldness of the Guys in White, there was no way he was going to make it out of this intact.

Grumbling for the tenth time, he pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear.

Later on, he would be disgusted at how quickly Vlad picked up the phone. “Daniel!” he said, his voice too cheerful. “What a lovely surprise!”

“Yeah, lovely.” Danny’s tone was anything but.

“To what do I owe this pleasure? Does your mother miss me?”

Danny closed his eyes, remembering Vlad’s warning about his calls being tapped.

“Gross, no, shut up about my mom. I’m…I need help. With a school project.”

He could feel Vlad’s grin on the other end of the line. “A school project, you say? That seems a bit bland of a request.”

“In—in science. I had an idea, but I need resources. And you’re…rich.”

“Science? My, that is interesting! If you don’t mind me asking, Little Badger, why not just ask your parents for assistance?”

Cocky bastard.

“I feel bad. They’ve—they’ve done a lot for me, and…I know they’re busy. They were meeting with the lawyer today, and I just don’t want to—to bother them. With this. And I know you…from your college days, you have experience and your old gadgets still.”

“Surely your parents have some old gadgets in their shed you can toy with.”

“Most of those are fried. You know how my dad gets.” He knew that Vlad was just trying to pick at any loophole in their conversation, and he needed to play along, as much as he hated it. “I wan–wanted to show the school that I’m okay. You know? They have me in these—the Learning Center, and I wanted to prove I can handle real classes again. I need something to impress them. Especially after today, I just…I don’t want them to think I can’t—I can’t handle myself.”

There was a brief moment of silence on the other line before Vlad hummed. “I see. Well, you know I am a very busy man, Daniel.”

“Yes, but…”

“However, I suppose since you reached out, I would be delighted to help my favorite nephew with his assignment. Does tomorrow after school work for you? I can pick you up if so.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “Yeah. That’s fine, I don’t have PT. There—it’s just that I’m under…I get picked up by my mom.”

“I see. So would I have to contact the school to pick you up instead?”

“No, I don’t—I don’t think so. I think I can ask my mom.”

“Alright, well, hopefully dear Maddie and my old friend Jack won’t be too jealous that you’ve asked me to help you rather than them. Do tell your mother hello for me, alright?”

“Whatever,” Danny grumbled. Then, remembering the code, he slapped a fake smile on his lips and bared his teeth into the receiver, “Thank you, Vlad! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Ta!”

---

previous / next

---

Thanks so much for @imekitty for doing beta work while mid-NaNoWriMo. That is insane so please appreciate her thank you 💚

#danny phantom #fanfiction #dp fic #phandom #everything was white #my writing #midpoint time babes!!!

83 notes · View notes

ac3id · 4 years ago

Text

Plaything | 18+ | part i

plaything 1/ ?? | part 0

pairings: yandere! bully bakugou katsuki x fem! reader

warnings: [series] blackmail, bullying, dubcon/ noncon, filming w/o consent, yandere themes, no quirks au. ALL CHARACTERS ARE ABOVE 18 YEARS OF AGE.

↪ for chapter 1: dubcon, blackmail, humiliation, masturbation, filming w/o consent, boot grinding, a little bit of bakusquad + reader....this is filthy :D

summary: by luck you get enrolled into u.a high the best school in your town. the only catch is that the school is filled with rich, spoilt and powerful brats who just seem to hate you and among them, a certain red eyed blonde dreads you the most

↪ for chapter 1: you bump into bakugou by accident, dropping your vanilla ice cream all over him, you try to apologize and run away but wants more...oh wait why are his friends standing there recording everything too?

wordcount. 4k+

a/n: sooooo, it’s finally out! huge thanks to @sawamooora for proof reading this! helped me out a lot <3 sorry for making u sit through that mess x[

this scene was inspired by that one episode of boys over flowers where the mc’s best friend drops ice cream on the main guy’s shoe and he asks the mc to lick it off...obviously that didn’t happen in the show but it really got me thinking......

alsO the netflix show elite,,, i just saw it and knew,,,,

taglist: @mocha-focha, @erenyeagersbasement , @haribo-pop, @sunshine-fangs, @kuremis, @amazing-fandoms,

dm/ inbox/ comment to be added/ removed.

—navigation

It was a great opportunity. Never in your life would you have thought you’d manage to land a scholarship at the prestigious U.A Private Academy.

The school was a dream, the best in your city, and only affordable for the rich. Graduating from such a school could have helped you with life in so many different ways. Not only would it open doors you could never touch before, but it would help you to form connections which would make your life undoubtedly easier.

Graduating from U.A. was a blessing, but obviously, it did not come easy. It was rather unfortunate. After your previous school building had collapsed, due to some accident, the board announced its year-long closure.

At the time, you were beyond lost and understandably frustrated - it was your last year before college and you simply couldn't risk waiting the year out. The whole situation was nerve-wracking, looking for decent schools which would allow you in.

Honestly, you had no idea what you would’ve done if U.A. hadn’t called you that night.

It was the last day of the summer holidays, a week after your school building had collapsed. Luckily, no one was hurt - but the damage on the campus was severe.

You had been talking to your friends when your mother rushed into your room with exciting news. Apparently, the chairman of U.A was feeling generous. He had decided to offer four excellent students from your school a scholarship to U.A.

You were overjoyed being one of the students along with your two other friends; Shinso Hitoshi and Izuku Midoriya.

At first, the thought was a little scary - going into a completely different world than you were accustomed to. The kids there would be much different than you, you didn't want to be the laughing stock, you didn’t want to be their silly little entertainment... The thought made you nervous, but when your best friend, Izuku, called you the next night explaining how he also won the scholarship; followed by Shinso, you were relieved.

Yes, you were stepping into a whole different world but you at least had your two friends with you.

And that brought you to the first day of school.

You stood outside the huge gates of the even enormous academy all alone shaking in your little, expensive skirt they forced you to wear as the uniform waiting for your friends. You promised the two boys you’d wait for them, and besides, you weren’t planning on entering the building all alone.

Your friends, Shinso and Midoriya, lived close to each other. They were supposed to meet you at the gates of the school that morning, but they were running late. Your anxiety grew the longer you stayed there, with students filling the place- arriving in their fancy cars with their expensive bags and accessories. It easily made you feel out of place.

“Hey,” you heard someone before someone tapped on your shoulder. You quickly turned around to greet the voice. Staring back at you was Uraraka Ochaco.

You remembered she was in your school too, Midoriya has a huge crush on her.

“Yes, Uraraka? Right?” You weren’t close to her, nothing but mere acquaintances. But seeing her face - right here, right now - it made your day.

Uraraka was dressed in the same uniform as you, there was no doubt that she was one of the four kids who won the scholarship. Both of you talked while you implored her to wait for Midoriya and Shinso. You didn’t fail to notice the way her cheeks turned pink when you mentioned Midoriya. The two of them were so obvious.

Your friends arrived, they were late, but they came.

Apparently, there was an accident that forced them to stay back a little longer, but they managed to make it before the first bell.

“I actually have an old friend who goes there now,” Midoriya confesses out of the blue as the four of you enter the gates. You look at him in awe.

During the three years in high school that both of you had spent together, he had never mentioned any friend of his going to the U.A. academy ever.

“Why did you never tell us?” Uraraka asks.

“well, we’re not on good terms. He used to live in the same neighborhood before his parent’s business took off. He left after middle school.” Midoriya says, a slight frown forming on his face.

“Who is he?” Shinso asks.

Midoriya pauses briefly before explaining his entire history with a temperamental and rude blonde. Bakugou Katsuki, he calls him. His childhood friend. But from what you managed to gather, Bakugou was anything but a friend to Midoriya.

Bakugo was once just a simple boy, living a simple life, destined to do great things - but once his parent’s clothing line ‘Dynamite’ blew up and became mainstream, he started drowning in wealth. Bakugo moved out of his old neighborhood at the starting of high school before enrolling in U.A., just like all his rich friends.

“Maybe you should say hi,” Uraraka suggests. Midoriya’s expressions turned sheepish.

“About that…” he started. “I called him yesterday, got his number from mom, and-” he stopped.

“What did he say?” Shinso asked.

“He told me to get lost and die,” Midoriya said with a slight frown on his face, looking down.

That was your first impression of Katsuki Bakugou. For a man you had not even met, you sure loathed him.

School went smoothly for a week, everything was going great. The four of you kept your profile low, didn’t talk until spoken to, kept your distance, and everything was okay.

People often starred and whispered amongst each other when they saw you in the hallways, but that was about it. Everyone seemed to be decent but… there’s always a but.

Everything took a turn for the worse when you managed to piss off the wrong person, Bakugo Katsuki himself.

It was an honest mistake, not even that big of a deal - especially for his standards Yet, for some reason, Bakugo wanted to get under your skin.

It happened after your lunch break, you were on your way back to your classroom with an ice-cream cone fasted tightly in your hands. You mindlessly dashed through the hallways, trying your best to get back to class as fast as possible - you don’t want to be late. It’d earn you a bad reputation. You don’t need that- you don't want anything which could jeopardize your scholarship.

You walked straight and took a turn. Just by fate, you bumped into a stiff, hard chest making you wobble on your feet and sending your ice cream from your hand flying straight to the ground.

“Shit,” you cursed, looking down seeing what you had to work with.

The ice-cream cone splattered on the floor, the white creamy liquid flushed all over the floor along with staining an expensive-looking, black leather boot. A snarl comes from above you along with a group of chuckles. More expensive shoes come into your line of view as you realize you’re not alone.

You slowly bring your gaze up, ogling at who you just pissed off.

Staring back at you is a furious blonde, glaring at you with such intensity that it makes your stomach drop. It’s the infamous Bakugou Katsuki, you don’t want to deal with him.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you don’t give him a chance to complain as you take your flight. Quickly, you try running away but a large hand grabs your forearm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

You look to the side, deep red eyes stare right back at you.

“Where are you running off to? Don’t you think you owe my friend here a proper apology?” Kirishima says, his grip on your arm growing tighter. He towers over you, his huge body trapping you with intimidation.

Going to U.A for over a week there’s a thing or two that you’ve learned about the rich, snobby brats who own the school. Not everyone is bad, a few of them are actually but the rest are just bad.

Bakugou was the worst. From how Midoriya described him, you knew for a fact he’d be a horrible person. But hell, he managed to prove himself even worse.

He was crude, mean, downright arrogant, and ignorant. Always screaming unasked opinions on top of his lungs, and gets mad whenever someone disagrees. He acts like the world revolves around him.

Bakugo had a bunch of friends who he called his “followers” and they weren’t any better.

They just watched while Bakugou ruined everything, they were there to support him.

Kirishima Eijirou the redhead, he was captain of the football team. He was a jock, brawns over brains kind of person. Girls cooed over him and his overly attractive, hot body. It looked as if he was sculpted by God himself.

Next was Kaminari Denki. He was in the school band, dating the lead singer. And yet, he managed to find time to flirt with other girls. He was the goofball of the group, dumb and stupid But he always knew what he was doing. Even though it was barely noticeable, you could always see a devious glint in those amber eyes of his.

Sero Hanta was famous for a lot of reasons. Most notably for having brought illegal drugs on the campus and skipping classes to go down to his junkie hangout spot to smoke weed. The man had no shame. Sometimes, he’d walk into the classrooms high as fuck. The teachers couldn’t do anything even if they tried, his parents practically owned the school; he owned the school. There was no going against the tall, lanky man who looked like he couldn’t even smash a bug. He held the most power and his friends sure knew how to abuse it.

Last but not least was Mina Ashido. The one and only girl member of the self-proclaimed ‘bakusquad’. Sometimes, Jirou Kyouka, the lead singer of the school, would hang out with the boys and her boyfriend, but she wasn’t a permanent member. Mina was.

In your opinion, Mina was a nightmare dressed like a daydream. With her short, pink hair and bright smile, she seemed like an angel. But she was the devil. Worse than even Bakugou, perhaps.

She knew everything about everyone, she had leverage galore: screenshots ready to leak, videos ready to ruin lives. She had them all, and frankly- she scared you the most.

Kirishima pushed you back, and Bakugo caught you by your shoulders.

“That was fucking rude,” he growled, biting his fingers into your shoulder blades tight and hard making you squeal. “Are you fucking blind or something? Fucking extra.”

“I said I’m sorry, let me go will you?” Even in such a terrifying situation, you try to remain calm.

“What do you think, Sero?” Kaminari began. Your heart sank, including Sero into anything was never a good sign.

“She ruined Bakugou’s new shoes,” he continued. Bakugou’s hold on you tightened and you winced, turning back to him and returning his glare.

“Okay, what do you want?” you give in, finally. A mischievous spark lights up in his crimson eyes as flashes a cocky smirk to his friends before turning back to you with a frown. He pushes you towards Mina and she catches you with an arm around your shoulder.

“Those were expensive, right?” she looks at you and then back at Bakugou. He grunts, nodding.

“Fuck yes, I’m pissed as hell. Some fucking extra managed to ruin it.”

You look back down to steal a glance at his heavy, leather boot. The small, white stain melted away.

“What will you do to make up for it?” Mina whispers your name and you cringe. They were teasing you. For their fun, they were making fun of you.

“What can I do?” you say, sarcastically. Prying yourself away from her hold. The crowd goes dead silent before speaking. Sero is the first one to talk.

“Lick it off.”

There’s a pause, no one speaks. Your stomach drops and your face pales at the look the five of them are giving you- it’s serious. Dead serious.

Kaminari bursts out laughing followed by Sero and the others. The four of them get a great laugh but Bakugou stares at you head-on with his grave expressions burning through your soul.

“Whatcha looking at? Do it,” he commands.

The laughing dies down and Kaminari speaks, “are you serious? You want her to lick your shoe,” he can’t control his laughter, a chuckle breaks with every word.

“Yes, I’m fucking serious. Besides, Sero recommended it,” he smirks. “Do you really want to say no to him? I don’t know so much about this but-“ he leans down close to your face, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, “it might complicate your scholarship.”

There’s a twisted rhythm in his voice. He’s enjoying tormenting you. You still want to believe that they’re just messing around. That they’ll have their laughs and let you go, but the way Sero stares at you says otherwise.

“You don’t wanna do it?” Bakugou asks.

“Of course she doesn’t! That’s gross, oh my god.” Mina exclaims, earning a chuckle from the rest of the boys.

“Hey, let’s hear it from Sero himself.” Kirishima pats Sero’s back, pushing him forward. The five of them have circled around you, coiling you inside their venomous nest with you in the center. You turn to Sero with pleading eyes, looking up at his huge form, begging.

He smirks looking down at you, you look so tiny beneath bim. He wants to mess with you, even more, you look like a nice toy to him. He wants to play with it until he can’t.

“I guess, I did say that-” your blood runs cold, heartbeat picking up in nervousness. “-but you don’t need to do it.” He finishes. Your face lights up while the others groan in disappointment. Bakugou looks livid.

“Just know that, you’re the one who dropped the ice cream on Bakugou’s shoe and now you’re not even helping him out. That’s not very noble, is it? I don’t know if I even by mistake slipped that info back home- my parents might reconsider whether you truly deserve to be here or not. They don’t really like disrespectful kids who comprise the school’s name.”

Sero ends his speech with a wide, ear-to-ear grin, followed by a pat to your head.

“The choice is yours.”

You pause for a moment and think. Where they were really going to make you do it, where they were really going to humiliate you like this. They were. But were you willing to do it?

From Sero’s threat, you could tell he was serious, this was legit.

It wouldn’t have been the first time the school expelled someone who had beef with Sero, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. They don’t care about anyone but their loving son. They wouldn’t even think once before expelling you.

“What’s your answer, princess?” Kirishima teases.

Mina and Kaminari once again break into fits of laughter.

“What do you mean? She doesn’t have a choice here, kneel you extra.” Your heart hammers in your chest as Bakugou gestures you to kneel. You stop for a second, breathing unevenly- thinking. After a long, thoughtful sigh, you answer.

“No, I am not going to do it.” Your voice is meek yet clear. Even though you’re trembling under the heavy gazes of five snakes, you choose to stand your ground.

Bakugou glaring at you while the others boo.

“Aw, c’mon you don’t mean that.”

“Don’t be a little brat.”

Bakugou stays silent while the others continue to throw insults at you - calling you names and trying to make you regret your decision. You look straight forward into Bakugou’s cold, red eyes, searching for his next move. Your heart beats even harder in your chest with increased anxiety. After watching your torment for more than a few minutes, Bakugo decides he’s had enough of this game.

“Hey, shitty hair,” Bakugo starts. “Punch me.”

“What?” Kirishima asks, vividly shaken. “Why do you want me to hit you, Bakubro?”

“Punch me real hard, give me a black eye.” The confusion grows greater on everyone’s faces. You stare at him in awe, wondering what angle was trying to play.

Kirishima raises his hands in defense. “Woah, dude slow down there. I’m not just going to punch you.”

Bakugou clicks the roof of his tongue, letting out a sound of irritation. “You all are just dumb,” he starts.

“Imagine if this punny, little,” he leans down closer to you till his lips touch your ears and whispers your name with a crude chuckle. “Were to drop all her food over me, not apologize, punch and me then run away, that’d bring her into a whole world of trouble. Wouldn’t it?”

Bakugo’s words are calculated and sly, he knows exactly what he’s getting at when he starts. His voice fills you up with dread as he makes his accusations public.

“She would be expelled on spot and Kacchan could also raise charges,” Kaminari adds.

Your eyes widen in fear.

“Yeah, I’ll fucking do that.” Mina giggles. “That would succck,” she cheers. Your lower lip quivers as you stare at them in disbelief, your eyes open wide only to be covered with fear.

“Hey, c’mon, why are you doing this to me?” You feel them inch closer to you, their warmth leeching onto you the longer you stay surrounded by them.

“Because you have no fucking manners.” Bakugou snarls.

“Kiri, punch him. What are you waiting for? If you don’t wanna do it I will!” Kaminari cries, growing impatient.

Kirishima laughs before he charges Bakugou. Your heart hammers in your chest.

You think about your family, your future, and how disappointed everyone would be with you. Your dreams and aspirations, all were rooted in this school.

It was honestly sad, pathetic even. Your entire future was just a joke to these spoiled kids. These kids who could control you, and everyone else, with just a flick of their fingers. It’s unfortunate, but that’s the price to pay for a piece of the beautiful cake known as U.A... You resign yourself to your fate.

A piece of your mind.

“N-no, don’t do that. I-I’ll do it,” you murmured, your voice timid and weak. The five paused looking at each other with an ominous glint in their eyes. Bakugou was the first to speak.

“Well, then fucking get on with it. On your knees.” Obediently like a trained puppy, you got down onto your knees, not letting your eyes fall from Bakugou’s face. His red, fierce eyes barked at you with an unknown look, keeping you lost.

“Holy shit, she’s actually doing this,” Mina squealed watching you lean forward, bringing your face next to Bakugou’s expensive boots.

“Kaminari, record this.” Sero taps at the energetic blonde, forcing him to take his phone out and hit ‘record’. As you lean further to the ground, your short skirt rides up behind you, giving the audience a clear view of your round ass and pastel panties. The sight brings a smile to Bakugou’s face as he scoffs.

“Cute panties,” he remarks.

You jerk, trying desperately to sit back, but Bakugo stops you. Smashing his other foot on top of your shoulder, he holds you there facing the ground.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” he growls.

You squirm, almost falling under his weight and as much you hate to admit it, a tingle of excitement runs down your spine. This was turning you on.

A row of whistles flood in, the boys start teasing you and praising Bakugou.

“Lick it off,” he commands.

You look down at his leather boot, the ice cream almost melted. There’s still a bright white spot of the sweet now liquid splayed out. Even though it’s not a lot, it still makes you cringe. You peek your shy, little tongue out timidly, forcing yourself to do the heinous deed.

Bakugou watches you hesitate and pushes on your shoulder harder making you reach towards him.

You give in after a final attempt, diving into his wishes. Your wet tongue touches the rough, cold leather. You cringe after a single touch, closing your eyes and scrunching your nose at the salty taste. “Clean it all off,” he commands.

You dive back in, this time letting your tongue glide across a larger portion. The humiliation burns through your body. It makes you uncomfortably hot, mostly from anger and but a little bit of arousal.

“Nice ass.”

There it is. The excitement comes back the moment they start making suggestive comments, the attention riles you up and it’s horrible.

“Kaminari are you even supposed to be here? Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Mina asks at the blonde pervert who was currently zooming on your ass.

“Oh? We’re cool as long as I don’t stick my dick her,” he points to you. “That’s hella fucking tempting but I’m in love, dude.” He chuckles to himself, thinking about his girlfriend.

They treat you like an object, talking about you like you were some sort of a toy.

“Bet her pussy is tight,” Sero says.

Kirishima turns to Bakugou, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Yo, Bakubro, can we touch her?”

Bakugou looks on from watching you lick his boot and turns to Kirishima. A dark, unsettling gaze falls across his eyes as he speaks, “No. This one is mine.” he stares down at you.

You stop lapping on his shoe and stand back on your knees, buckling your knees you try to get up but Bakugou harshly kicks your shoulder, throwing you back and making you cry.

“Why did you do that?” you squeal, holding onto your bruised shoulder, glaring at him intently.

The rest of the group goes quiet at the display of Bakugou’s sudden violence.

He stands between your thighs, lazily resting his foot atop of your soft thighs.

“You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” the angle you were spread out in had your skirt flipped over hips, displaying your pretty, pastel panties to everyone in the room.

Even though it’s subtle, masked by everyone’s fear of what Bakugou was planning, you still feel everyone’s gaze focused right on you and more specifically at your clothed cunt. Bakugou presses hard on your thigh making you cry.

“Useless Deku’s friends are just like him. The fucking second you walked in here, I knew you were just another useless insect for me to stomp on.” He pauses, smirking, pressing his foot onto you even harder, twisting his ankle to increase the burning sting surging across your right thigh. “And I’m doing just that.”

He steps off you for a moment, letting you catch your breath and recover from the burn. His eyesight travels lower down to your panties. He admires the cute pair you had on. Normally when he’d see girls naked, they’d dress themselves up the most luxurious to match his standards. But that’s not you, that could never be you.

He rejoices at the thought of seeing your flushed, tear-stained face breaking down under him. You’ll never be like those girls, always a step behind. He can build you up and break you however he likes, you’d have no say in it.

The power trip drives him crazy.

He presses the tip of his boot over your clothed clothed cunt, pushing the hard material right over your sensitive clit.

You gasp at the feeling, looking up at him with terrified eyes. He smirks down at you, moving his foot in a steady rhythm, rubbing the fabric of your cotton panties against your little pearl.

“This turning you on? What a freak.” The rest of his group basks in shock. They watch intently as the scene spiraled out for them, too captivated to make any comments. They just keep quiet and stare.

The way you squirm under Bakugou as he plays with your cute clit so unforgivingly makes them hot with excitement. Kaminari feels a little guilty but he blames it on his nature as a man.

Sero feels a little bad for you, they all do. But then again they wouldn’t waste the opportunity to be in Bakugou’s footsteps- literally.

“You’re a little slut, you know that?” Bakugou sneers.

Your gasps turn into whimpers as his simulation becomes harder. You clench your fists, desperately wishing it to be over. Tears brim in your eyes at the sheer humiliation of your corrupted form. This was just too much, too much for you to handle.

“Please, stop,” you beg, knowing he wouldn't listen. “I’ll report you,” you cry. A roar of laughter starts, shutting you up.

“Go for it, you do that.” Mina comments. Kaminari walks closer to you, bringing the camera down to your face recording your horrified expressions.

“We’ll just go ahead and post this online.” he threatens.

A drop of tear falls down your waterline following a waterfall. You cry, leave all of your dignity behind and cry. You beg them to stop but as your pleas mix with your moans, it’s hard for anyone to understand what you’re saying. It’s not like they don’t know what you’re asking them for, they just turn deaf, simply because they can.

Bakugou stops, he takes a step back, leaving you alone. You let out the tiniest cry when he leaves, ditching you just when you need his touch the most.

“Feels like I’m doing too much of the work, if you want it so bad, do this yourself.” He says. Your body still burns with desire, your clit still hard and cunt salivating, you are nowhere close to being done...

It’s as if something takes over and you are possessed by the dire need to cum, you do exactly as he says.

You snake your fingers down your panties, deliberately rubbing on your swollen little clit before pushing your finger into your drenched cunt. You cry out as you clench around your finger, the pleasure becoming unbearable. Your legs shake and you close your eyes shut.

You stay there on the floor, fingering yourself in the corridor, without any shame, while Kaminari records all of it.

“She’s gonna give me a hard-on,” Kirishima says and you moan.

“She really is a slut, huh?” Sero comments.

“She’s cute,” Mina adds with a smile.

Bakugou scoffs, “does Deku know how much of a whore you are?” He asks.

You don’t pay any attention to what he says, too busy bringing yourself to your climax.

“You’re getting all this right?” Mina looks over Kaminari’s shoulder and onto the phone screen which captures you beautifully losing yourself for everyone to see.

“You close?” Bakugou asks as you feel yourself clench around fingers tightly, he bends down on his and pulls your panties down your hips, admiring your precious cunt.

“Cute pussy,” he remarks before flicking your sensitive, hardened clit.

A rush of pleasure washes down your body as you cry while cumming. Bakugou pushes you right over the edge, a nasty grin screaming atop his face as he watches you. You curse at yourself for letting him see you like this, but there’s not much you can do but cry while you feel your juices gush around you before sliding down your thighs and onto the dirty floor.

It takes a second for you to calm down and when you do come to your senses, dread fills you up. Tears shamelessly fall down your face as you realize what you just did. The others laugh at you, without feeling any remorse.

Bakugou continues to stare at you with an unsettling look, while the others discuss the heinous crime you’ve just committed.

Sero looks down at you and you catch his dark eyes staring at you. A toothy grin scavenges his face as he speaks.

“Awesome,” he says as if he just finished some mediocre movie.

Finally, you find the courage to get up and run.

This was totally not awesome.

813 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

More “biting” 😉 stories of coops please?

Anon 1: Do you think you’d be willing to do more kinky coops? Maybe a follow up to truth or drink where Sirius gets tied up again?

Anon 2: Mixed prompts 80-83 pls!!

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! This is part 1 of today’s fics--hope you enjoy! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove, whom I love and adore.

TW for restraint kink, edging, smut, and hickeys

Mixed Prompt 80: “ You’re going to regret that sweetheart.”

81: “Are we clear?”

82: “Try to stay quiet, understand?”

83: “Don’t hold back, baby.”

“Did you see Coach’s email?” Remus asked as he scrolled through his inbox and reached for another piece of chocolate; they were shaped like little hearts, because Sirius was a sweet, sweet muppet of a man and had a romantic streak wider than the continental US.

“I did, yeah,” Sirius said from the doorway to the kitchen. “It’ll be pretty nice, having two days off in a row.”

Remus read through the rest of the message. Too much snow, unsafe conditions, practice cancelled, yada yada yada. A sudden thought struck him and he glanced up. “Hey, maybe we could try something a little more…”

Sirius grinned as the chocolate clattered to the countertop, along with Remus’ phone. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

Remus swallowed around the sudden dryness of his mouth. Chest. Arms??? THIGHS. FUCK. “Huh?”

“I was saving these for our actual day off, but it seems fate had other plans.” Sirius’ grin became a downright smirk as he quirked an eyebrow and bent his knee.

“When—how—what?” Remus couldn’t tear his eyes away from the tight, dark red fabric that covered Sirius’ legs up to his thighs. Bows. The socks had bows on the top, and they matched his underwear. “How long have you been standing there?”

Sirius shrugged. The upper half of his body was bare, and Remus tracked the movement of every muscle. “About five minutes. Your email must be very exciting.”

A soft whine escaped his throat. “Where did you get those?”

“Online.” Sirius flexed his thigh and all the air rushed from Remus’ lungs. “Why, do you like them?”

“I want to take them off with my teeth,” he blurted. “Fucking hell, Sirius.”

“That can be arranged.” Mischief played at the edge of his mouth as he began backing away. “Though you’ll have to catch me first.”

And he ran. Remus stood there in shock for a moment before sprinting after him, skidding on the floor as he grabbed the bannister. Sirius was already on the bed when he made it to their room and snapped the top of one thigh-high at Remus playfully.

“You’re going to regret that, sweetheart.”

“Promise?”

Remus was on him in an instant, sucking a bruise into the side of his neck as he pushed Sirius’ arms over his head and settled between his thighs, grinding his hips down. “How long have you had these?” When Sirius smiled instead of responding, he bit down on his shoulder. “Tell me.”

“Four days.”

“Where did you hide them?”

Sirius gasped at the pressure on his wrists. “Nightstand.”

“Do you have any idea what you look like right now?”

A slow, smug look covered his face and he nipped Remus’ bottom lip. “Yes.”

“Turn over.” Sirius bucked his hips up instead, and Remus let go of his hands to flip him hard enough he bounced a bit, then attached his mouth to his shoulder blade. “God, you look fucking incredible in red, baby.”

“You think this was an accident?”

“Somebody’s feeling bratty.” Remus dragged his blunt nails down Sirius’ ribs, and he shivered. “Just for that, I’m going to finger you until you’re begging for it. Are we clear?”

Sirius turned his head to the side and rolled his hips back. “I’m not begging for anything.”

“We’ll see.” Remus continued mouthing along the strong line of his shoulders as he fumbled blindly in the nightstand drawer for the lube, then paused. He straddled Sirius’ waist and leaned over to sift through the various items that they had tossed in without thinking—playing cards, a book, Sirius’ tie, a few condoms that they hadn’t touched in months… “What the fuck?”

“What?”

“Where’s the lube?”

“Are we out?”

Dread pooled in Remus’ gut. The mere thought of trekking through the snow to get lube or—even worse—finding out all the stores were closed was almost enough to kill his boner. Almost. Sirius was still in red underwear and fucking thigh highs, after all. “No. We can’t be out. Didn’t we just buy some the other day?”

Sirius shrugged. “It’s been a while, I don’t know.”

“It has been a while,” Remus muttered.

“I think I put some in the laundry room so we would have extra.”

Relief made butterflies erupt in his chest and he kissed Sirius’ cheek. “You are so smart and I love you. Hang on one second, okay?”

Remus’ hands shook a little bit as he hurried back downstairs and down the hall, standing on his tiptoes to see into the cupboards. Laundry detergent, Windex, fabric sheets, two pairs of Jules’ socks…

He pushed the detergent aside and felt around for the familiar bottle. “Where the hell did you put it? Come on, baby, work with me here.”

Clear plastic caught the light on the highest shelf and Remus thumped his forehead against the washing machine. He got the stepstool with minimal grumbling and grabbed the lube, making a mental note to block that entire shelf and remind Sirius that he was five foot fucking eleven, which was well above average.

“Baby, we need to have a discussion about—” He stopped cold in the bedroom doorway, then sighed. “Really?”

Sirius arched his back as he pressed two fingers back into himself, his jaw going a little slack. “You were slow.”

Remus took a deep breath when he saw the half-full bottle of lube on the bed next to him. “Where’d you hide that?”

“Under my pillow. You didn’t even check.” Sirius’ breath caught as his hand changed angles, but his smile remained. “I thought you’d call me on it for sure.”

“You know, most people wouldn’t play terribly mean tricks on their fiancé on Valentine’s Day, especially when that fiancé was already going to fuck them so hard they can’t walk straight,” Remus said as he walked slowly toward the bed and tossed the other bottle next to Sirius. “You’d better count your lucky stars we don’t have practice for the next two days.”

“Oh?” Sirius eyes fluttered shut for a second and he reached for more.

Remus smacked his hand away. “Yes. Was the shelf really necessary?”

“I had to delay you somehow. Did you use the stepstool, or did you climb on the dryer?”

“None of your fucking business, tall-ass. Turn over.”

“Make me.”

Remus reached back into the nightstand and pulled the tie out, manhandling Sirius’ arms over his head and tying them to the small ring they had put in the headboard for that exact purpose. Sirius made a confused noise when Remus grabbed his silky-soft underwear off the foot of the bed and slid it back up his legs until it was snug and tight again. “Much better.”

“Wait, wait, wait, what happened to fucking me until I can’t walk straight?” Sirius’ eyebrows drew together and he nudged his leg against Remus’ side, only to have it guided back down by a firm hand. “Come on, sweetheart, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” Remus said drily as he squeezed the thin strip of bare skin on Sirius’ thighs. “Between the super fun game of tag and then hide-and-seek, I thought you didn’t want me to touch you.”

“But you will, right?” Nervousness laced his voice. “Right?”

“Maybe. Might get myself off and then leave you here, though.” He leaned over and dragged his lips down Sirius’ chest. “I’m still on the fence.”

“Non, non, non, get off the fence. The fence is not a fun place to be.”

“Really?” He continued to the edge of Sirius’ waistband and dipped his tongue under the satiny fabric, then feathered his mouth along the outline of his dick until Sirius’ knees started inching upward in pleasure. “Hmm. I think it’s a great place to be, actually. You could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldn’t have to do a goddamn thing.”

“What do I have to do?” Sirius panted. The front of his boxers was already darkening with precome and his pupils dilated when Remus palmed himself through his pants.

“Try to stay quiet, understand?”

Sirius clenched his thighs around Remus’ waist as he pulled his shirt off, only to shakily straighten them out again when Remus fixed him with a withering look. His dick looked painfully hard as Remus got off the bed and slid his pants down his legs, giving Sirius a great view of his ass under the tight black underwear he was wearing.

“Oh, yeah, that was supposed to be a surprise for you,” he said mildly when Sirius whined. “It’s Valentine’s Day, after all. One of us was getting railed tonight.”

Sirius perked up. “Really?”

“That was the original plan. Now that you’ve got these—” He plucked the edges of the thigh-highs as he knelt on the mattress again. “—I might need to rethink that idea.”

“Nope, no you don’t.” Sirius wrapped his legs around Remus’ hips and tugged him down. “You really don’t need to rethink that, it sounds like a fantastic idea—”

Remus pressed his palm over Sirius’ mouth and pushed his legs down with the other. “What did I say about being quiet?”

A soft noise tore from his chest as Remus ran the heel of his hand up Sirius’ dick and felt it twitch beneath the fabric. “Desolée,” he said as Remus scooted backwards a few inches. “Desolée, mon coeur.”

“Good job.” Sirius sighed happily as he worked a hickey onto the bit of skin between his underwear and his socks, but his chest hitched when Remus moved barely an inch to the side.

“What’re you doing?”

“Decorating.”

“Me?”

He sighed and bracketed Sirius’ ribs with his elbows, resting his chin on his hands. “Yes, you. You’re beautiful, and I’m just making sure people know you’re appreciated. Now be quiet.”

“Nobody’s going to see those. They’ll be gone in three days.”

“I’ll know.” Remus placed a slightly darker bruise on his inner thigh and Sirius’ hips canted to the side with pleasure. He hummed against his skin, then pulled away. “I’ll have to finish these when I turn you over.”

“When?”

“If.”

“Re.”

“Oh, come on,” he scoffed with a smile, leaning up for a brief kiss. “You know me better than that.”

Sirius’ eyes crinkled. “I do.”

“Let me enjoy myself in the meantime, yeah? I think I deserve it after everything you’ve done today,” he teased, adding new hickeys to Sirius’ other thigh until the bare skin was mostly dark lilac. He skimmed kisses down both his legs, paying special attention to the backs of his knees and the cute little bows at the tops of his thighs. “I love these.”

“Yeah?” A pink flush spread to Sirius’ chest.

“Yeah. Somehow, they’re both adorable and sexy.” Remus reached up and tapped his nose. “Just like you.”

And then he licked a long, slow stripe up the front of Sirius’ underwear, which made him shake from head to toe. “Oh, fuck me.”

“Not yet.” He did it again, this time giving his hips a squeeze. A choked moan slipped through and he shushed him softly. “Quiet, baby, remember? I’ll tell you when you can make noise for me.”

“Oh.” Sirius’ eyebrows pitched upward as Remus slowly slid the sticky fabric down and replaced it with his tongue. “S’il vous plait. S’il vous plait, mon cœur, je le veux, s’il vous plait. ”

“What did I tell you?”

“I—I—” Sirius clenched his teeth as Remus sucked just the head of his dick into his mouth. His abdomen jolted under Remus’ palms.

“You’re getting all accent-y.” Remus smirked, leaving a mark on the crest of his hipbone. “I told you that you could beg yourself hoarse and I wouldn’t have to do a god—” He kissed the soft skin below Sirius’ ribs. “—damn—” Another kiss, just under his sternum. “—thing.”

A tremor ran through Sirius and he pulled on his restraint for a moment, hard enough that the headboard creaked. “Ngh. I love you.”

“I love you, too. I think it’s time to finish those decorations, hmm?”

Sirius nodded enthusiastically and Remus untied his hands, flipping him by the hips for the second time. He practically purred as Remus tied him up again and pressed his hands into that broad back; Remus pushed his knees until they bent and Sirius propped himself on his elbows, breathing heavily and bare but for his thigh high socks.

“Color?”

“Green.” There was no hesitation in his voice.

“Good.” Instead of going straight to his legs again—which were flexed in the new position and doing absolutely wonderful things to Remus’ thought process—Remus grabbed the half-empty lube and poured some on his fingers.

“What’re you doing?” Sirius asked, trying to shift around and see. He froze when the first finger pushed in without an issue. “Huh. But—but you said—”

“I didn’t tell you to start making noise.” Sirius pressed his face into the pillow and his knees jerked inward as Remus added a second finger. “You already did this part for me, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

“But I didn’t tell you to.”

“No.” The word was barely a whisper.

“And as much as I love you—” He kissed Sirius’ lower back and scraped his teeth along the dimples there. “—and want to make you fall apart, I can’t let you do whatever you want without consequences.”

“Yes, you can,” Sirius gasped, tightening around him as Remus pressed upward. “You can, I don’t mind.”

“No, I can’t, and you’d better be quiet before I drag this out even longer.”

There was a beat of silence while Sirius got ahold of himself again. “How long? The usual?”

“Since it’s Valentine’s Day, eight minutes.” Remus smoothed a hand up his spine and pressed down between his shoulder blades until most of his upper chest was on the pillows before slowly dragging his fingers in and out, pushing just next to his sweet spot until Sirius quaked with the effort of suppressing his moans. He added a third finger a moment later and Sirius’ thighs knocked together. “Hold yourself up, baby.”

Sirius pulled his elbows in once again, supporting his chest as Remus added a few new hickeys to his thigh and stretched him slow and deep. He gave his wrist a twist when he moved to the right side and Sirius dipped for half a second, one leg threatening to give out.

“Hold yourself up,” Remus reminded him, wrapping an arm around his lower belly and lifting slightly; Sirius’ breath caught and his shoulders folded in a bit. “You okay?”

“Ouais.”

“Alright. Two minutes left.” He pushed his fingers in further and felt the ripple of pleasure roll through Sirius under his mouth, then kissed the middle of his back. “Like that?”

“Uh-huh.” Sirius’ voice was tight with pleasure and wavered with swallowed moans.

Remus flexed his fingers and brushed against his prostate; Sirius nearly collapsed onto the bed and a whining noise was half-muffled by the sheets. “What was that?”

“ ‘s nothing, ‘s nothing, keep going.” Sirius tried to get to his elbows again, but even though Remus had stopped moving, he seemed to be having trouble. “Sweetheart, please.”

“You know the rules, baby. Five more minutes.”

“I can’t—I can’t—”

“You will.” Remus rubbed Sirius’ side to soothe him, but didn’t take his fingers out. “How about this: if you can hold yourself up and make no noises for two full minutes, I’ll fuck you and you can come whenever you want. Sound good?”

Sirius nodded frantically and struggled to get his knees under himself. “D’accord.”

“Time starts…now.” Remus kept his eyes on the clock as he plucked at Sirius’ seams, spreading his thighs to get a better angle when it looked like he was starting to relax into the feeling. One minute left. Something that would have been a moan if Sirius had a little less willpower lodged in his chest and he tensed around Remus, legs shaking with arousal. He was damn near dripping onto the sheets.

Forty-five seconds. Remus bit his lip and ran his free hand up Sirius’ thigh, digging into the bruises just enough to get his attention. “You look so pretty with these,” he murmured, leaving a trail of small bites down his spine. “It must have been hard finding thigh highs that fit, huh? You’re so strong, so beautiful, and I love that about you.” He made sure to run over Sirius’ sweet spot on every drag until his breaths got shallower and his dick twitched. Twenty seconds. “You don’t really want to come right away, do you? You like it when I take control. You like being tied down and edged until you’re a mess. Ten seconds left, baby.”

Sirius’ back bowed as Remus’ hand brushed his dick. “Pas juste,” he blurted, then groaned when Remus paused. “Fuck.”

“Was that a sound?”

“No, no it wasn’t.” He pushed back against Remus’ hand and whined when he pulled his fingers out. “Re, I only had five seconds left.”

“Bummer, isn’t it?” Remus said with mock-pity, rubbing wide circles along Sirius’ ass and thighs.

“One more chance?”

“We had a deal, love. Two minutes, no sounds, no falling. You did so well and then you tripped at the finish line.”

“You touched my dick.”

“Was that against the rules?”

Sirius huffed and glared over his shoulder, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the pink of his cheeks and the pleading look in his eye. “It was in my head.”

Remus made a sympathetic noise. “It’s a shame you’re not in charge today, then. Chest down.”

“I want to see you.”

“Later. Down.” Sirius rolled his eyes, but complied so his back sloped in a gentle curve; Remus smacked his thigh lightly. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Oops.”

“Apologize.” When he stayed silent, Remus slid two fingers back into him. “Sirius, apologize or I’ll get you off by fingering you.”

“I’m sor—sorry.” His hips jerked as Remus pushed on his prostate one last time.

“That wasn’t so hard, huh?” He pulled his own underwear down and tossed it to the side, reaching down to push Sirius’ thighs apart while he lubed up. “Don’t hold back, baby, you can be loud now.”

“Oh thank God,” Sirius breathed, shuddering a bit as Remus pressed in and began to move. “Oh—oh, oh fuck.”

“Color?”

“Fuck—green.” He gripped the poor necktie and twisted it in his hands while the pace made his knees slip. Remus put his arm around Sirius’ midsection once again while the other hand splayed on his back and held him down into the pillows.

The thigh highs began to bunch from all the movement and Remus slowed, reaching down to adjust them while Sirius clenched and unclenched his hands, mumbling out a string of pleas in English and French alike. Remus stilled for a moment and kissed the side of his neck as he relished in the heat.

“Move,” Sirius moaned, pushing back weakly. “Please, please move.”

“I love you so much,” Remus said into his sweat-slick skin as he started again, angling up on each thrust as he lifted Sirius’ hips into the right spot. “I do, baby. And I can’t wait to have two whole days to ourselves so I can admire those pretty bruises all over you.”

“Lemme—lemme see you. S’il vous plait, mon amour, I wanna see you.”

“Alright, shhh.” Remus combed a hand through his hair and untied his wrists; they were a bit pink from all the pulling, but otherwise looked fine. He gently pushed on Sirius’ shoulder so he could roll over and was met with glassy silver eyes and lips bitten so red they almost matched his socks. “Bonjour. Do you want me to tie you up?”

“Non.” Sirius smiled and pulled him down for a slow kiss, and Remus could feel his heartbeat hammering against his shoulder. “Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime,” he murmured back as he lined himself up again. Sirius’ eyes fell shut with a moan when Remus pushed in and he inhaled deeply, winding one leg with Remus’ and letting the other splay to the side.

“There, there, there,” he pleaded, grasping for a hold on Remus’ arms as his eyes flickered between open and shut. “Oh, fuck, je veux—je veux—”

“Do you think you deserve to come?” Sirius made a conflicted noise and pressed his knee into Remus’ thigh, only for Remus to pull it straight once more; the sock rolled down with each rocking movement. “Sirius, look at me. Do you want to come?”

It took a moment before Sirius made eye contact with him and nodded, struggling to get enough breath to speak. “Yes.”

“You were so rude earlier, but I did make you wait a long time.” Remus thought for a second, but didn’t slow his brutal pace that made Sirius turn his face into the pillows. “Can you come like this?”

“Touch me—touch me please—”

Remus lifted his lower back up and ran his teeth along Sirius’ pulse point, then wrapped a hand around his dick and jerked him quick and tight until high, incoherent sounds slipped through his lips. “Now.”

Sirius nearly kicked him in the shin as he arched his back, mouth falling open, moans muffled in the hollow of Remus’ throat. He babbled some string of whimpered words, caught between pushing Remus away and pulling him closer until their warm skin pressed across his entire front and his knees bumped together over the small of Remus’ back.

Remus followed him a moment later, sliding his mouth along Sirius’ collarbone before he came so hard his arms shook with it. A soft hand trailing through his hair brought him back to earth, though Sirius still looked dazed and shuddered every few seconds as Remus stroked a hand down his cheek and slid the thigh-highs back up with the other. “Shh, mon amour. Ça va, chérie, respire. Je t’aime tellement. ”

Sirius smiled and kissed him again, holding him close and warm as he pulled out. “I love it when you speak French,” he murmured. “Si beau.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Their quiet laughter buzzed against his chest and he littered Sirius’ face with kisses until his silver eyes cleared. “Are your wrists alright?”

With a heavy sigh, he let go of Remus and held them up. “All good.”

He kissed those, too, for good measure. “And the rest of you?”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “I think you achieved your goal.”

“Which one?”

“There is no way I’m going to be able to walk straight.”

Remus hid his laughter in Sirius’ neck and rolled to the side, gathering him into his arms. “It’s a good thing we have all weekend, then.” He checked the clock and sighed. “I should make dinner soon.”

“No.”

“No? I’m not allowed to make us food?”

“Nope.”

“But that’s my present for you.”

“Your present to me is currently on my thighs and won’t disappear in half an hour.” He felt Sirius smile and nuzzle closer, then gentle pressure on his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Payback.” Sirius rolled him onto his back and began speckling his neck and shoulders with small love bites, outlining his ribs with featherlight touches. Remus reached down and snapped the edge of his thigh high. “Hey!”

He grinned. “Couldn’t resist. You’re going to keep these, right?”

“Duh.” Sirius wound their legs together and cuddled into Remus’ side. “Mmm, you are so warm.”

Remus wrapped both arms around him and kissed the top of his head, closing his eyes. Naptime sounded good. Naptime, then dinner, then back to bed for more snuggles, or maybe something more. It was Valentine’s Day, after all.

-------------------------------

The Next Morning

The first thing Sirius saw when he woke up was gray. The second was Remus’ shocked face, followed by an ‘oh, fuck’.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, propping himself on his elbows with a wince. His backside ached from yesterday’s activities, and his thighs were still incredibly sensitive—he noted that the matching rings of hickeys had not diminished much overnight with a sense of satisfaction. Remus was staring down at his phone as rain drizzled softly outside.

Wait. Rain.

Silently, Remus passed him the phone. Sirius squinted at the screen, blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes, then froze.

Hello team,

Due to improved weather conditions and snow melt, practice today has been rescheduled for 4 pm. Thank you for your flexibility.

Best,

A. Weasley

“Oh, fuck.”

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godofevrerything · 4 years ago

Text

How Zutara Should’ve Happened (my take anyways, if Zuko still joined the Gaang in Season Three)

Alright, so I’m a Zutara shipper. Anyways, here’s my rant of the day.

So, if Zutara were to be cannon, let’s say that we wouldn’t change the cannon, other than that. Also full disclaimer, I don’t really like Kataang. It’s cute, and sweet, buuuut I think that they would be better off single or with other people. I personally ship Taang so much-

When I first watched it, I really wanted Katara to end up single. I thought that would be a fitting ending for her story. But hey, she didn’t, and that’s fine.

This is not an anti Kataang post, seriously. If you ship it, cool, I don’t, but everyone had different opinions. Just please don’t come to my inbox and yell at me.

Aight, under the cut bc it got long.

So, if we weren’t gonna change the cannon, Zuko still joins in season three and all. Katara and him would still have a rocky relationship at first, and for good reason, I mean wtf Zuko what happened at the CoTL?

Rant for another day

Anyways-

What I would think is that Katara couldn’t help but notice how Zuko is trying to gain their, and her trust. I mean, she’s pissed but still, she notices. It doesn’t make her forgive him or anything, and it shouldn’t, but she does see it.

Now, I’m thinking little moments. Like when he shoved her out of the way of the falling rocks? Yeah, she still snaps at him, but maybe after she’s a little less fiery. Just a bit.

And then after TSR, things start to change. Of course, we get the iconic hug, but!! I want another scene, when they’re coming back from the trip.

One thing that always bothers me when I read Zutara stuff is that writers rarely address Zukos betrayal in TCoTL. Like,,, maybe I haven’t read the right fanfics but c’mon guys.

I really think, no, I know that Katara and Zuko should address that. I really want a scene, when they’re coming back, while Katara is sorting out whether to forgive him or not, I want them to talk about it. And sorry if it’s OOC- But Like so:

Katara: Why did you do it?

Zuko: ...do what?

Katara: Why did you fight with Azula? I thought you changed, I thought you would’ve fought with us.

Zuko: I-

[ a moment of quiet]

Zuko: I thought about it, and I almost did-

Katara: [turns around to face him] Then why didn’t you? Why did you choose that?

Zuko: I wanted my honor. I wanted to go home, and I thought- I though that if I fought with her, I could get my honor back.

[Katara doesn’t answer.]

Zuko: But Im sorry. I am.

Katara, quietly: I thought you changed...

Zuko: I have, now, I mean.

Katara: Why was your honor so important to you anyways? And what do you mean by ‘wanted to go home’?

Zuko: I- I was banished. Until I found the Avatar, I couldn’t go back.

[Katara turns, studying him, then turns back around]

Katara: ...You couldn’t go back, ever?

Zuko: No.

[She doesn’t speak after that, and neither does he.]

Okay, so maybe that was too OOC, but they did need to have a conversation something like that. A conversation where Zuko explained, at least a bit about why he fought with Azula.

And then, after that, the hug and forgiveness. But that was a turning point in their relationship, and I don’t like that so little fic writers address that.

And then!! I want little moments. Just small moments, maybe a bit more teasing, a bit more concern on Kataras part.

Also, let’s face it: Zuko would be simping. Katara wouldn’t be lovey dovey, no, she wouldn’t. Zuko would be the simp, Zuko would be the one stuttering slightly at teasing and stuff.

Just little moments, nothing big bc c’mon, they’re kids. They’re teenagers in the belp middle of a war.

Speaking of which! I really want one more scene between them. After Aangs noncon kiss in the Ember Island Players, I want there to be a scene where Zuko finds Katara and she vents to him.

Also I’ve been losing my damn mind trying to find a gif series for that bc someone on Tumblr made it and I can’t find it- fkdndd

Okay, but along with a huge chunk of the fandom, it really makes me mad that they didn’t show more of Kataras reaction, and that Aang didn’t apologize. Like wtf Aang.

I would’ve been fine with anyone coming to Katara, or telling Aang that was wrong but- Didn’t happen. They just glossed over that part smh.

But! Say Zuko were to come and talk with her about it. And then at the end, he might ask her why she was confused, Maybe something like this:

Zuko: If you don’t mind, why are you so confused?

Katara: I don’t know! But it’s in the middle of war. It isn’t over, and now isn’t the time for... for romance.

Zuko: But that doesn’t mean that you can’t be happy. I mean, look at Sokka.

Katara: I’m not Sokka.

[They both go quiet for a minute]

Katara: Sorry, Im just... It’s too much to deal with right now, and we have to focus on ending the war.

Zuko: No, I get that. It’s fine.

Katara: I’m just- I’m confused, and now isn’t the time and-

[She pauses, and the two look at each other for a moment. All is quiet.]

Zuko: I.. can go, if you want. If you need some space.

Katara: Yeah, that would probably help.

[Zuko walks away. As he does, Katara is staring at his back, a thoughtful expression on her face]

Yes, yes, I think that would make sense in the romance line. Mirroring when Zuko was staring at Kataras back.

Alright, so everything would be same, up to Katara healing Zuko after the Agni Kai. But there would be subtle differences. She takes his hand and holds it instead of putting her hand on his back. No big “I love you” or whatever. Just holds his hand, and maybe a line like “We- I could’ve lost you!” Maybe.

And then! One last thing, instead of that long Kataang kiss at the end, a scene between Katara and Zuko, talking about their futures.

I’m a really big fan of Water Tribe Ambassador Katara, and it shows.

Katara: So.. Fire Lord Zuko, huh? Finally regained your honor?

Zuko: [groans] Yes, now stop it.

Katara: [laughs] Nope, never gonna stop.

[Theres a minute of quiet]

Zuko: And what about you? Are you going back to the SWT?

Katara: I am. The Northern and Southern tribes... they need to connect again, not become one, but the connection was frayed with the war, and someone has to take a step to rebuild it.

Zuko: What about the Air Temples?

Katara: That’s up to Aang. I’ll help him of course, we all will, but he’s the last air bender. He’ll take care of them, like I’ll take care of the Water tribes.

Zuko: With Sokka too, I’m guessing.

Katara: I don’t know about that, actually. Sokka may want to travel a bit, scope out the world.

Zuko: And you don’t?

Katara: I do, and I will. Sokka and I, regardless of whatever travel, we’ll work together to take care of the tribes.

Zuko: [chuckles] And I’ll be here. I’m going to try to undo the damage the war did. Open up relations again in the Earth Kingdom, sort out the colonies.

Katara: Don’t overwork yourself.

Zuko: You shouldn’t either.

[She laughs, and stops in front of the pond, looking at the turtle ducks]

Katara: Zuko..

Zuko: What?

Katara: [turns to face him] We... went through a lot. And I have something that I need to tell you.

Zuko, sweating slightly: ..yes?

Katara: Relax, it’s nothing bad!

Katara: I..

[Katara takes his hand and smiles. Zukos eyes widen and he looks down at their hands]

Katara: Well?

[Zuko looks back up and smiles at her.]

Zuko: You’re going to visit sometime, right?

Katara: Course I will.

[He smiles again, and intertwines their fingers. It’s quiet once more, then off in the distance, Sokka yells something]

Katara: [laughs] Now c’mon, your Honor. Let’s go.

[She pulls Zuko down the path towards their friends, and all their laughter can be heard. The End comes up, and the credits roll]

So!!

No big ily confession, no long kiss. Why? Because they’re kids. They’re fourteen and sixteen, there shouldnt be an ily, there shouldn’t be an uncomfortably long kiss.

Later, of course. But now? Let’s them just hold hands and tease each other and relax a bit.

Anyways, that’s my Zutara rant of the day, thanks for listening.

#zutara #Zuko #Katara #ATLA #avatar the last airbender #zuko x katara #Zutara rant

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horansqueen · 4 years ago

Text

New Angel - Chapter 18

story masterlist [x]

chapter 1 ☆ chapter 2 ☆ chapter 3 ☆ chapter 4 ☆ chapter 5 ☆ chapter 6 ☆ chapter 7 ☆ chapter 8 ☆ chapter 9 ☆ chapter 10 ☆ chapter 11 ☆ chapter 12 ☆ chapter 13 ☆ chapter 14 ☆ chapter 15 ☆ chapter 16 ☆ chapter 17

NOTES

☆ written from Niall’s pov ☆ i don’t proofread, I never do, I hate it. ☆ AU comedy/fluff/smut/romance ☆ 2.5k ☆ i accept requests and ideas for this story, so message me in my inbox! ☆ if you want to be notified when this story is updated (or be taken off the update list) CLICK HERE

NIALL

"I can't believe you brought me here." Millie sighed, shaking her head slightly but grabbing a ball anyway. "I can't play, you know it!"

"You mentioned not being good at golf, and at football, but you never said anything about bowling." I argued, trying not to smile too much.

"I mentioned sports in general!" she let out a bit louder. "I suck at all of them."

This time, I couldn't help my lips from curling big. It was finally friday and also the fifth day Millie and I were spending together. It was insane how fast time seemed to pass when we were together but I liked it. I also liked the fact that she was ready to follow me in my stupid ideas, and I was happy to follow her in her crazy ones. I had had many friendships in my life but nothing ever felt like this one. I was trying new things, learning things too, and even discovering things about myself that I don't think I would have found out without Millie's help. I knew it wouldn't always be entertaining the way this week had been but it could definitely be enriching forever.

"You can do it! I believe in you!" I let out, half-joking.

She raised her nose up and grimaced before shaking her head. "Don't be money on me, you'll quickly become poor."

I chuckled and she turned around, grabbing the ball and throwing it in the alley. It rolled around and quickly reached the gutter, making me press my lips together as I tried not to laugh. Okay, maybe she really sucked at it.

"Okay, this is confirmed." Millie let out as she walked up to me. "Bowling is still a sport. I suck at it."

I laughed and finally got up, waking up to her and grabbing a ball too. I was not the best at bowling but I was not so bad either, and I grabbed her arm on my way, bringing her with me. I handed her the ball and she frowned for half a second before grabbing it and I turned her around, placing her hands on the ball. She allowed me to move her fingers, staring at what I was doing and licking her lips. It made me smile more and I kept my hand over hers.

"Okay fist off, you need to relax a bit. You're way too tensed. You need to stay relaxed when you give the swing." I explained slowly, waiting a few seconds. "God, Mill, relax!"

She sighed but I finally felt her relax against me as I pressed my body slightly more against hers.

"Now you need to line up and not just throw the ball and hope it'll find the right way."

Millie's shoulders fell and she turned to me, frowning at me. It made me chuckle again and she raised her eyebrows.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No," I argued. "I think you expect to be bad at it so you put zero effort in it."

This time, her traits softened and she licked her lips again without answering my comment. "Okay, and what else?"

"Your swing needs to be relaxed, but when you finally throw the ball, you need to some power. Aim for the middle. Oh, and twist your wrist on the left. Not too much, just enough, okay?"

"This is too much information at the same time."

"Come on, Mill. You can do it."

I took a few steps back but kept my eyes on her as she breathed in and out before finally throwing the ball. Instead to get in the gutter, it rolled in the alley and hit two pins that feel down. Millie turned around swiftly, her brown hair moving around her body, and threw her arms in the air, letting her head fall back slightly.

"Yes! I'm the bowling queen!"

I crossed my arms on my chest and started laughing at her reaction. Some people turned around to look at us and I rolled my eyes, a smile still spread on my lips.

"Yea yea, I'm still gonna win."

We kept playing for a while and even if I won all the games, she was getting better and better and for some reason, it made me proud of her. We walked back to my car and as I was driving home, I saw her took her shoes off and bring her feet on the seat, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Maybe someday, we can go try playing golf together." she explained, making me raise my eyebrows in surprised before I glanced at her. "If you're ready to teach me, of course."

"Yea! Yea of course!"

She sent me a bigger smile and leaned her cheek on her knees, still looking at me. "Cool, you're a good teacher, and I actually had fun."

"That was the goal."

As soon as we walked back in the apartment, she walked to the kitchen and I rushed to my room, grabbing a pack of cards and joining her as she put two beers on the table along with a bottle of vodka. We sat in front of each other and I started dealing the cards.

It was a ritual we had with Louis on every friday night but even if we hadn't talked about it together, neither of us had expected Louis to be there. He was barely at the apartment anyway these days and the fact that Millie still had feelings for him made me think it was actually better that way. We both knew he was spending all his time at his girlfriend's but we didn't mention it. In fact, we hadn't talked about Louis, Grace or Summer at all on that day either and I was fine with it. We could spend time filling the lists and all of that during the weekend... or never.

Millie pushed her empty beer away and filled our shot glasses with vodka. We swallowed it at the same time and I saw her eyes water.

"Don't drink too much." I pointed out, my lips curling on the right. "We're having a party tomorrow night, and also you won't be able to see your cards."

Millie laughed louder than expected and she shrugged a shoulder. "I probably won't get drunk tomorrow, to make sure everyone's safe."

"That's very mature of you." I replied with a small smile. "Now show me what you got."

Her eyes met mine and her lips curled into a cheeky smile. "Are you ready to lose?"

Just as I was about to answer, we heard the front door open and we both jumped slightly, not expecting it. Louis frowned when he entered the kitchen and after a few seconds, his face changed. Maybe I should have felt guilty for doing something with Millie that he was normally a part of, but I didn't.

"Shit, it's friday already?" he asked, placing his hands on the table and leaning closer. "Why didn't you guys remind me?"

"We just thought you were busy." Millie mentioned, shrugging a shoulder and looking at the cards in her hands.

"Maybe I could invite El?" he asked, ignoring her innuendo. "She could play with us."

"No, she can not." my best friend quickly replied before I could say anything.

"Fuck off Millie, why are you acting like that?"

I kicked my friend under the table and cleared my throat to catch Louis' attention but his eyes never left Millie who wouldn't even blink.

"What Millie means is that it's a thing we had only the three of us, you know?" I tried to explain calmly. "It's our thing, and adding someone would just not work."

It took over a minute for Louis to finally move his body back, his hands sliding on the table before they fell on each side of him. I could feel anger emanating of him and I didn't really understand what made him so mad. After all, he was the one who was never here, he was the one who literally dropped us for his girlfriend, and he was the one who broke Millie's heart. If anything, we should be the angry ones.

"Well apparently, you guys don't need me anymore."

I was expecting him to storm off but it's Millie who got up quickly, her chair making an annoying noise as it rubbed against the floor.

"You're the one who doesn't need us anymore, Louis!" she pointed out, making my heart jump in my chest. "So you know what? You fuck off!"

Quickly, Millie threw her cards on the table and grabbed the bottle of vodka, rushing out of the kitchen. i jumped again when she closed the door of her room roughly and slowly got up, shaking my head and leaning myself with my hands on the table.

"Did you really propose to bring your girlfriend here? Are you stupid of what?"

i was talking low but I knew he totally heard how pissed I was with the tone of my voice.

"Shut up, Niall!" Louis quickly replied, his voice louder than mine. He searched for something in his pocket and shook it between his fingers. I frowned slightly until I realized it was Millie's list and my lips parted.

"You didn't have the right to read this." I pointed out, my heart skipping a beat.

"Oh yea? Well Millie forgot it in the living room!"

It was definitely an accident and somehow, I thought it could have just slipped out of her pocket when we were watching tv. She probably didn't know it was there and even if she did, she probably thought Louis wouldn't come back for a while and that it was safe. I knew it was wrong of me to blame him for checking a random paper but I was mad anyway.

"That is none of your business!" I let out, trying to snatch the paper out of his hand.

He pulled away just in time and I breathed in, trying to remain calm. "This is my fucking business! My name is all over it!" he argued.

"That doesn't make it your business!"

I was getting even angrier and at the same time, I just wanted to leave and join Millie. It was her I should be with instead to be arguing with Louis, which was most likely useless anyway.

"Oh but it's your business, right? Because you think I was not good enough for her! You think she deserves better than me!"

In a rough movement, Louis threw the list on the table and I quickly grabbed it tight as I remembered what I had written on it.

"She does! She fucking does, okay!" I almost yelled. "You didn't treat her the way she deserves! She deserves better!"

"And who's better, Horan? Uh? Who's better for her? You?"

The way he said the last word was like a slap in the face and without thinking, I moved my upper body back, still staring at him. I didn't want to pick sides at first but now I had done it without even thinking about it. I looked at my best friend and felt my heart drop in my chest. We were both fighting for no good reason and I hated it. I licked my lips and breathed in deeply before sighing.

"Look, I'm not gonna fight with you, okay?" I let out in a softer tone. "You and Millie... you went through something, and she needs time. Which works because you're busy too. I just want to be there for her, okay? Don't take it so personal."

"How can I not?" Louis pointed out, still a bit mad. "This is my name! This is me you're talking about!"

I sighed again and shook my head. "Just.. go find your girlfriend, okay? I'll see you at the party tomorrow."

Louis' eyes moved up and down on me and finally sighed too. "Yea, it's better I leave for now."

Without an other word, he walked to his room probably to grab a few things and I waited until I heard the front door close again. I walked to my room to get changed and turned all the lights off before walking to until Millie's door, knocking gently on it.

"Mill, can I come in?"

It took a few seconds and I heard the door unlock before it opened. Millie stood in front of me, staring in my eyes, and I noticed she got changed too. We stared at each other for a while and I raised my eyebrows, making her sigh but move away to let me in.

We ended up laying in her bed, under the covers, facing each other, and I kept silent for a while. Her eyes seemed to shine with the lights coming from her window and I realized she had been tearing up, maybe she even shed a few tears.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm.. I'm at that point where my heart aches because I love him but I know he's not meant for me. I know I was not happy with him. I know that what we had was not what a love relationship should be. And... realizing that hurts, too."

I let my eyes room on her face and it made me think about Grace. Perhaps I was exactly at that same place when it came to my ex girlfriend and although it did hurt, I was slowly getting used to it. Maybe I should give Summer a chance, after all? It was not good to stick or hang on to something like the relationship I had with Grace, or the one Millie had with Louis. We should both seek something better and I knew it. Happiness was possible, it just needed a bigger effort.

"That's a first step in the right direction." I explained in a whisper. "You're doing great, I'm super proud of you."

Millie's lips curled in a grateful smile and she pressed her lips together.

"Thank you. I'm proud of you too."" she murmured back. "You're gonna sleep here with me?"

"If you want me to." I proposed with a shrug as she nodded quickly. "Then I will."

She reached for the lamp near her bed and turned the light off before laying back down in bed. I started thinking about Summer and how I never really gave her a chance. I didn't love her but I really liked her. She was a pretty and sweet girl and I had no idea why I was rejecting her over and over again. I knew I needed time to make a choice but the more I was thinking about it, the more I knew my choice wouldn't be Grace.

"Niall?"

"Mm?"

"You're never gonna leave, right?" she breathed out, taking me out of my thoughts.

"Where do you want me to go?"

"You know what I mean." she whispered again, making my eyes flutter open. I kept blinking a few times until I could see her shadow in the dark. "I lost Louis, I don't want to lose you, too."

I reached for her hand on the mattress and squeezed her fingers as tight as I could. "I'm never gonna leave, I promise. I'll always be there for you."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan story #niall horan love story #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #niall horan au #my fanfics #newangel

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jewish-space-laser · 4 years ago

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ok i have an idea for a cbl blurb? could u do a blurb from harry’s pov from the night where he got drunk and how he felt when he saw yn and stuff? ik it already happened but i think seeing it from his viewpoint would be interesting!

Could be Lethal - Part Three (Harry’s POV)

“And every time I’ve held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns, And so it goes, and so it goes, And so will you soon I suppose...”

– And So It Goes, Billie Joel

HELLO EVERYONE! It’s been months since I’ve posted anything on here, but I randomly got the motivation to pick this up last week. I apologize in advance for my rusty writing skills! This ask has literally been sitting in my inbox for 10 months, so posting it actually feels quite cleansing. Anyway, here is a (long) blurb full of angst, angst, and you guessed it, angst! I hope you love Harry’s take of that night as much as I do. I love you all muchly, thank you for your ongoing love and support <3 xoxoxoxoxoxoxooox Tile

(3.8k word)

You and Harry were friends, with a capital ‘F’. Yeah, you’ve been sleeping in his bed for the past two months, and maybe your entire nervous system goes into hyperdrive when you’re in the same room, but that’s normal, right?

The one where you and Harry have an arrangement… of the cuddling sort.

See the CBL masterlist here!

WARNING: Detailed descriptions of heavy drinking

~~~

It was bullshit. It was all bullshit.

Harry was miserable. He knew it, his friends knew it, his family knew it… it seemed the only person who wasn’t picking up on his desperation was you.

You were a complete enigma to him. Sometimes, you were the warmest, most open person he’d ever met, indulging him with interesting conversations, stupid jokes, and even the occassional existential discussion. It was always difficult for Harry to truly open up to a person, having been jaded time and time again by people who weren’t able to look past his famous exterior.

That’s what makes it so much harder, he thinks. Knowing you properly, you knowing him properly. It made the moments where you were closed off harsher, colder, more difficult to read.

Since you left his house two days prior, he had done just about anything he could to take his mind off of you. He loved thinking about you, but he also hated thinking about you. It was tortuous and circular and he just wanted a brief moment of emotional respite.

No, he didn’t want respite, he needed it.

So he watched all three Lord of the Rings movies in a row, tested out a new stir fry recipe, spent way too much money online shopping, and even scrolled through the Humane Society website in a moment of weakness. But none of it mattered, because even if he could distract himself for a moment, you were still there, lingering in the peripherals of his mind like a song stuck in his head.

It was dizzying and mind-boggling, and Harry was at a loss for what to do. So when Sunday morning rolled around and it still felt like his lungs were being crushed into a ball, he started drinking.

It was only 8:00AM, but he bypassed the coffee cabinet and went straight to the fridge, pulling out a chilled bottle of champagne. The pop of the cork was as loud as a gunshot, but Harry didn’t even flinch, hardly registering the sound of it hitting the floor across the room as he rushed the bottle to his lips.

Bubbles fizzed past his tongue and dripped down his chin, sliding down his bare chest before puddling on the floor. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly at the burn of the carbonation, but each gulp sent pleasant tingles over his skin.

For the first time in ages, his mind felt numb. He didn’t necessarily feel good, but he didn’t feel miserable anymore, and that’s what mattered. He could close his eyes without seeing your smile flash in his head, he could listen to music without immediately relating the lyrics to you, and after his second bottle of wine, he was even able to brew a cup of coffee without thinking of you.

Okay, maybe he thought of you a little.

At some point, he passed out on the couch, cartons of Vietnamese takeout sitting cold on his coffee table. When his eyes finally blinked open, the sun had already started to set.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. There was a familiar ache pulsing behind his eyes, and he groaned loudly into his empty house. It never used to feel empty, but now you’d come and gone, and it was too late. You’d left your mark on his house and his coffee and his heart… so he drank more.

There was no more wine, so he started in on his collection of hard liquor, expensive bottles lined on top of his cupboards. Normally they were reserved for when he had guests over, but this fell into the realm of desperation. His sunken eyes scanned the glass bottles before settling on the cheapest of them, an unopened Maker’s Mark. It would do.

He was pouring a healthy sized glass of the whisky, and then suddenly he wasn’t. His heavy eyes blinked in confusion as he stared across the bar at the bartender, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly.

“That’ll be thirty-five pounds, mate,” the bartender said, “got roped into buying the first round, eh?”

“Yeah,” Harry grunted, glancing over his shoulder to see Thomas and Jessie watching him from a booth.

He doesn’t remember leaving his house, let alone coming to the pub with his friends. In fact, if he tried to think about it, his memory of the entire day felt fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit together.

In his mind, this was a success. A full day gone without thinking about you or talking to you or seeing you. The clock behind the bar read 00:43 in red neon numbers. He took one of the shots quickly, signing the bill and taking the remaining five back to his friends.

“Harry mate, we told you we’re not getting pissed tonight,” Thomas groaned, “what’d you get six shots for?”

“What kind are they?” Jessie asked, wrinkling their nose.

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged, setting the tray down directly in front of himself. His vision swayed to and fro, but he still managed to down another shot, disregarding the concerned look his friends shared. “It’s rum. If you don’t want any, that’s fine.”

“It’s a Sunday, mate,” Thomas reminded him gently.

“We’re at a pub, aren’t we?” Harry slurred. “Supposed to get drunk here.”

“You asked us to come here,” Jessie said slowly, “said you needed to talk to us about something.”

Harry blinked at them slowly, swaying slightly in his seat. He didn’t remember any of this.

“Actually, he said he needed a drink,” Thomas corrected, “I didn’t realize he meant twenty drinks.”

Another shot burned down his throat, and then everything was cold.

“Harry.”

His head was pounding. Every limb felt heavy. He couldn’t bear to open his eyes, already overwhelmed by the echo of Thomas’s voice reverberating off of the tile floors.

“Harry.”

He knew that somebody was trying to get his attention, but he just couldn’t. The alcohol had done its job for most of the day, keeping his brain muddled down and diluted just to spare him the pain of remembering. But now, it backfired, trapping him inside his own head with no way out, with nothing to do but remember. He could hear people talking in the background, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was as if he was underwater, slipping further and further down with each painful clench of his heart.

He felt a hand press against his arm, and jerked away, causing his stomach to twist. He didn’t want to be here anymore, and he certainly didn’t want to be bothered.

“G’way, Thomas,” he managed to grunt.

“It’s me.”

Your voice was clear as crystal to him, but he knew it couldn’t be real. You had left him, after all.

The image of you driving away from his house was burned into his memory, playing over and over again in slow motion. If he thought hard enough, he could even remember the way your body had felt beneath his, whining and squirming and gasping, just like he’d always dreamed about. He could remember the sunken expression on your face the next morning, the heavy silence of the car ride to the coffee shop. He could remember how he’d hoped, so badly, that you’d finally talk about it, this unspoken connection that could no longer be denied. Most of all, he remembers the way his heart dropped when you told him that you didn’t remember any of it.

Another gentle brush, this time along his hairline, and he managed to open his eyes just a sliver.

You looked amazing. Well, there were circles under your eyes, you were wearing your pajamas and slippers, and you were frowning in concern, but to Harry, you were the most beautiful thing.

“You’re here… y’really here….” he sighed.

You were crouched in front of him, holding a plastic cup of water, and all he wanted to do was pull you into his chest. You looked sleepy and cosy, just like you always did when you stayed over. Before he could reach out to pull you close, you were putting the rim of the cup against his bottom lip.

He took it, grateful for the relief it provided his dry mouth. For the first time since he came to, he took in his surroundings. He was in a single stall bathroom, curled on the floor next to the toilet. The walls were an ugly pale yellow, while the floors were white, making the streaks of dirt and grime more noticeable than ever. Thomas was leaning against the sink across the room, watching you as you tried to get him to finish the cup.

“Y’look so pretty, always look so good,” Harry slurred, “just wanna snuggle, like we always do.”

He loved the way your mouth dropped open. Everything about you was endearing, really. He watched as you twisted your head to say something to Thomas, water sloshing around in the cup when you nodded your head quickly. Thomas left immediately after, but Harry hardly even noticed.

When you turned back around to face him, he felt blinded. Despite the dark circles under your eyes, they’re bright and they pierce through him just like always. He loves the color of your skin and the shape of your nose and the little crease that forms between your eyebrows when you’re anxious. He thinks he could probably paint you with his eyes closed.

Warmth licked across his skin when you brushed your fingertips against his forehead, tucking a stray lock of hair back into place. Harry leaned into your touch, unwilling to let the moment pass too quickly.

“Can you try taking a sip of water, H?” You tilted your head. “For me?”

He could have laughed, had he not been so nauseated. He would do anything for you normally, but he really did feel awful. “G’na make me sick,” he insisted, wrinkling his nose at the cup in your hand. Even though he could hardly focus, his eyes zeroed in on the faded X scrawled in sharpie on the back of your hand, a souvenir from your night out at TAVERN. He had a matching mark on his hand, and he dreaded the moment the ink would wash off fully. Just another thing forgotten.

He just wanted you.

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the look on your face told him that it had slipped out. There was no way he regretted it though, not with you right in front of him. Not in this state of mind.

“It’s gonna make you feel better, and then we can go home,” you urged softly, scooting a tiny bit closer to him.

Home. When he thought of home, he thought about mornings in his house, sunlight filtering in through the blinds and leaving shadowed stripes across your skin. Home was the way you squinted your eyes tighter together right before waking up. Home was you at his kitchen table, going off at him about not doing his dishes.

“Y’coming home w’me?” He managed to say. Your eyes softened.

“Only if you drink this whole cup,” you lifted it up to him once again, gingerly tilting his head up with a finger on his chin. Even though he felt like his stomach would combust if tried to swallow anything, he allowed you to help him drink some water. Some sloshed messily onto his shirt, but it felt sobering. You met his eyes for a moment, “is that good?”

“I’d do anything for you.”

If you asked him to drink water, he would drink water. He would drink an entire ocean of water. It was achingly clear to literally everybody but you. He could tattoo your name over his heart and you still wouldn’t see.

You gulped loudly, but didn’t say a word, simply prompting him to take another sip of water. He wished more than anything that you’d say something. Make some kind of facial expression. He just wanted a signal, a sign, that you felt anything towards him; disgust, affection, pity.

He was sure you must pity him.

Harry drank the rest of the water, cheeks burning as he asked you for a refill. He was still drunk, but the fog had cleared enough for him to sit up straight without feeling like he was going to hurl. He watched you refill the cup in the sink that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in decades, but that was honestly the least of his concerns.

“Y’must think I’m pathetic,” he grumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back against the wall. “Can’t lose you.”

“You haven’t lost me,” he heard you say quietly.

But it felt like he had. Because even though you were friends, it wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t fall asleep to the sound of your soft exhales. It wouldn’t be the same if he couldn’t feel that rush of excitement when you sneakily texted him under the table on nights out. Having you at a distance could never be enough.

“Harry…” you sighed, rubbing your eyes, “why did you drink so much tonight?”

If your obliviousness hadn’t been so devastating, he would have laughed. How could you sit here with him, look into his eyes, and not see that his heart was entirely in your hands? How could he explain anything to you if you hadn’t already seen it?

So he wouldn’t try. Not right now.

He mustered up the strength to push up onto his knees, managing to stand up fully with your steady grip on his arms. He took one shaky step as his head spun, and felt your arms snake around his waist to keep him balanced. Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, reveling in the feeling of having you so close as you helped him out of the toilet.

You brought him to a stop in the main room by the bar, and he couldn’t help but bury his nose into the top of your head. You smelled just like you always did. It had only been a few nights, but your scent was already fading on his bedsheets.

“Y’smell like lavender,” he hummed, squeezing your arm lightly, “s’like you’re tryin; t’torture me…. So pretty.”

It really was torture, having you hold onto him as you both walked out of the pub. You were distracting, with your warm skin and soft hands. Each step was difficult; his feet were heavy as anvils and he just wanted to curl up right here on the sidewalk.

Just as he was considering plopping down on the pavement, he heard the familiar beep of your car opening. He closed his eyes once he was sat in the passenger seat, feeling you fuss over his seatbelt. He flinched slightly when you slid a cold water bottle between his knees.

Harry blinked, and then suddenly you were buckled in behind the steering wheel, poking his arm and peering at him with tired eyes. “Can you stay awake for me, H? Just till we get to your house, okay?”

“Y’coming to my house?”

You were so good to him, all the time. By the looks of your attire, you were ready to be in bed hours ago, yet here you were, patient as ever.

“Yes, I’m taking you home,” you said through a yawn.

“Miss having you at my house,” Harry exhaled. He didn’t even know what he was saying really, just the same thoughts and memories circling through his mind like planets around the sun, all them centered on you. “My sheets don’t smell like you anymore.”

Suddenly, he felt hot all over. His trousers were too scratchy against his skin, his palms felt clammy, and the longer you stayed silent on the other side of the car, his stomach started turning. In an effort to cool off and calm down, he let his head fall against the window, the cool glass soothing his skin.

Drunk or not, he was trying to tell you how he feels, he was constantly trying to tell you how he feels… and you didn’t say a word. You never did. It was so frustrating that he found himself biting back tears.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you cleared your throat. “You can’t…” your voice cracked, “you can’t say things like that, Harry. It hurts me when you say things like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Harry managed to say. “But it’s the truth.”

He was so confused. How on earth could you be hurting when he was sitting here with his arms wide open? Was he so repulsive that the mere thought of being with him caused you pain, somehow?

He was too drunk for this.

Luckily, you seemed to be on the wavelength. “Let’s just… not talk,” you said, shoulders slumped.

Harry was feeling awfully dejected himself. He’d spent the last few days trying to cope with his complicated feelings, and now he was back at square one. Every time he thought he knew where the two of you stood, you would say something vague and he would start all over. Your relationship was like a house of cards; delicate, fragile, and knocked to the ground with the slightest shift, the tiniest gust of wind.

The headache started out small, but by the time you pulled your car into Harry’s driveway, he was feeling like he might keel over. Somehow, he was simultaneously drunk and hungover. If he was going to make it up the stairs to his room, he was going to need something in his stomach, and water that wasn’t from a pub bathroom.

It was humiliating enough that he’d needed you to help him from the car, but upon entering his house, he nearly kicked his shoe through the living room window, grumbling about toast. He knew he’d been less than impressive tonight, but perhaps this was what you needed -- seeing him at rock bottom -- to finally open up and have a real conversation about what you could be.

When he woke up in the morning, he would be sober, and he would be ready. He would make you coffee like he always does, and maybe he’d even run out and pick up fresh pastries.

“Want some toast,” he said, though he was fairly certain he’d said it once already.

You were standing in front of him, toes just inches apart, and it felt instinctive to place his hands on your waist and pull you in. The silk pajama top you were wearing was cool against his hands, but he could feel the heat of your skin underneath, the frantic thumping of your heart against your ribcage tickling his fingertips.

Your hands were on his shoulders to keep him steady, but he was suddenly feeling more sober than he had all night. All day, really.

Harry slid his hands further behind you, locking together behind your back. Having you close felt incredible. It hadn’t even been three days since he last saw you, yet every atom in his body was craving your touch.

“You, um,” he felt your shaky whale against his collar bone, “you have to let go of me if you want me to make you toast.”

Letting go of you felt physically impossible, so instead, Harry dipped his head down and rested his forehead against yours. The anticipation was excruciating as he waited for you to do what you always did: sink into his arms, wrap yourself around him, soothe him to sleep with the weight of your head on his chest.

Fissures cracked through his heart when you pushed him back, taking a single step back that may as well have been a mile. Suddenly, the air all around him felt cold, the room felt darker, the silence felt louder. He took a deep breath in, but still felt like he was suffocating.

“Do you really not remember?”

He needed to know. He had done everything in his power to think about anything else, but had somehow ended up here, standing face to face with you. He wonders if this is how it was supposed to be, if throwing you together over and over again was the universe’s ultimate plan, if all of this misery would be worth it in the end.

He’d experienced heartbreak before, but this was something else. And when you choked out, “Harry, please don’t make me say it,” in the smallest voice he’d ever heard you use, he knew that he could write millions of records about the pain of this moment, and still never do it justice.

“You remember, don’t you?”

All you did was nod your head once, but he suddenly felt drained. Maybe it was the full day of heavy, reckless drinking… or maybe it was the realization that things really might not work out. He still wanted to try, though. Even though you’d left the other day, there were countless other times you had stayed. For months you’d been coming over in secret, coming out of your shell and showing him how amazing you really were. That had to count for something; there had to be a reason.

Coffee. He would make coffee in the morning and the two of you would fix everything.

“Should we head to bed? ‘S getting kind of late, y’must be exhausted.”

You really did look tired, your eyes rimmed with red from yawning over and over, back hunched and shoulders slumped. He was feeling knackered himself, and was more than ready for this night to be over.

“Actually… I think I’m gonna head back home,” you gulped. Harry felt like he’d been slapped, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. It’s as if you’d turned to sand; there one moment and slipping through his fingers the next.

“You don’t want to stay?” Harry tried to keep his voice even, but even he could hear how it wavered. He clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

“I just… have to go home,” you said, looking everywhere but at him.

He waited for you to say something else, but instead watched as you hoisted your purse further up onto your shoulder and walked out the door. Shell shocked, he stood there frozen, even as your headlights disappeared down the street.

A long breath blew past his lips as he finally moved to lock his front door, any hope of you walking back through it dashed by the way you’d walked out for a second time.

Harry likely would have benefited from a glass of water and pain medication, but with a buzzing brain and a shattered heart, all he could manage was to pass out on the couch fully clothed, dreaming about what might have been if you had just stayed.

~~~

As always, let me know what you think! I love talking to you <3 xoxoxoxox Tile

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rodeoxqueen · 4 years ago

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Ever since I got this idea I haven't been able to stop thinking about Dante being a stripper cowboy 😳😳 Maybe smol shy S/O was dragged by her friends into a strip club when she caught the attention the attention of a certain red devil? 👀🌹 I have a mighty need for some Dante erotica, I'm sorry 😅

Howdy Howdy,

Partner, there’s no need to apologize. If anything, I’m sorry this request was sitting in my inbox for more than a week. I was watching as many male stripper movies as I could find to make this accurate. Here’s a fully written work to make up for the wait.

Part II is in the making, I couldn’t fit all that raunchiness into one chapter. For my male and gender-neutral readers, I’ll do my best to write inclusive installments that make you feel sexy and well-loved by this stripper cowboy. All readers deserve a lap dance.

Yours,

Rodeo

Can You Touch This?-Cowboy!Stripper! Dante/Reader-(PART I)(AFAB! READER)

Tags/Warnings: 18+, AFAB! Reader, Stripper!AU, Magic Mike!Au, Erotica, Minors Do Not Try It.

Read It On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28256070/chapters/69242487

You were never one for large crowds, alcohol, loud music, and nudity. So what a mess you were in, your friends dragging you into a strip club.

It wasn’t your fault, they promised you were all going for a quiet dinner at your favorite restaurant. No loud noises, no crowds, and especially, you didn’t even know why you had to specify, no naked guys! That’s what happened at first. You went and blew out your candles on your cake at a nice place, but then things got weird. Your friends had got you thoughtful gifts, except one of them who promised to give it to you after another “surprise.”

They practically herded you to their car, blindfolding and ear-muffing you while giggling. After driving in some unfamiliar directions, you were pulled into a strange building.

So when you couldn’t hear your own thoughts due to the overbearing bass in the room you were in, you realized you should’ve known better. The blindfold and earmuffs were taken off and you opened your eyes to a neon-lit room with the most hard-cut abs right in your face.

“A strip club?! W-why would you think I’d want to go to a strip club?”

“Okay, first of all (Y/N). It’s a male strip club. Second, come on! I know you want to touch some diamond abs!” One of your friends exclaimed as they threw bills at one very tan and very oiled up man named Diego. The box from before landed on your lap, and you unwrapped it to find a giant stack of dollar bills.

“Now stuff them bills down some hottie’s pants!”

The orange thong-wearing male with the most defined quads you had ever glanced at winked at your friend and opted to dance on someone else. Clutching your drink, you swallowed thickly as other males who clearly went to the gym every other hour thrust their hips proactively at you.

Your friends had called ahead and bought the lot of you a table to the stage, much to your chagrin.

Luckily, your ability to disappear in a room, with your meek personality and small stature, came in handy in these situations. The tall and buff guys your friends screamed over seemed to prefer the company of the more extroverted and thirsty. While other tables farther from the stage had easy contact with the not-themed strippers, you were all confronted with the stage floor dancers.

“My god, how many themes do these guys dress in?” You squeaked as an entertainer dressed like James Bond (minus the clothes except for the bowtie and gun holster) ground on the stage floor.

“Not enough! Now make it rain, (Y/N).” Another friend demanded as she took another shot.

You made a noise as your hand was forcibly placed onto an eight-pack. You quickly threw a wad of bills at the man and ran off to the bar.

“I gotta go!” You panicked, speed-walking to the bar in your heels. Stomach quivering, you put a few bills down and asked for a stronger drink. Maybe you could pass out on the table and your friends would feel bad and take you home.

You sighed as you watched your friends have the time of their lives, although they noted your absence.

“First time?” The bartender asked, sliding your fruity drink to you. You fiddled with the napkin. A woman posed in the corner with the logo “Devil May Cry” to the side of her, all lined in neon pink.

“Oh!... Yeah, it is.” You mumbled shyly. You blushed at his blue-eyed stare. Luckily, he wore a collared white shirt so you could look at him without bleeding out of your nose. He was very handsome, with rugged features and slight facial hair. His stark white hair shined even in the dim lighting.

“Ah, could tell. Watched you get dragged in here.” He chuckled.

“I-I was tricked, first of all!” You exclaimed, tucking some hair behind your ear.

“It’s alright. Your next rounds on me if you stay a lil longer.” He winked, wiping a glass. A few other people came and went, requesting all sorts of raunchy-titled drinks. Despite that, he leaned on the table where you sat, making idle conversation.

“I’m Dante.”

“Nice to meet you, Dante. I’m (Y/N).” You impulsively stuck your hand out to shake and stilled at his strong and warm grip.

He whistled.

“Nice name for a nice lady. It’s your birthday right?” You nodded.

“What did you wish for?”

“Peace and quiet.” He laughed at that, gesturing to your friends who screamed and clapped at a dark-skinned stripper who ripped off his pants.

“With those friends?” He chuckled.

“They’re a lot more restrained. This is an exception.” You whined.

The conversation grew longer. You learned that Dante worked here with his twin brother Vergil. He loved pizza and strawberry ice cream, along with nice motorcycles. A total manly man, if you asked yourself.

You found a safe space talking to him since you didn’t have to look at nude guys with your back turned.

You were hoping to talk the night away until a similarly white-haired male with a serious glare rounded the corner.

Swiping back a few stray hairs, the esteemed brother Vergil knocked the smile off his twin’s face.

“You fool! Your shift has been over for some time now.” He snapped. Dante rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, this is old douchebag.” You giggled at his comment, quickly stopping when meeting eyes with the frigid twin.

“Have you been speaking ill of me? I will-” Dante threw a towel at his brother’s face before leaving the bartending station. By leaving, he jumped over the counter.

“Hey, (Y/N), nice talking to you. I’ll see you later.” The white-haired man left to the employee’s room.

“Alright-” You muttered. You’d sit, but Vergil’s cold glare prompted you to leave and rejoin your friends.

“Where were you? Chatting up the bartender?”

“Look at you. Being social in a strip club.” They teased.

After a few more dancers, you couldn’t help but miss the blue-eyed bartender with his quips and casual flirtiness.

Suddenly, the music and lights went off. The crowd stirred. Your friend grabbed your arm.

“Oh girl they’re gonna need a mop after this.”

“Ew!” You cried out. Your friends sang that one horribly sexual song from the radio. Something about parking a truck in a garage and about wet-

A shirtless DJ grabbed the mic.

“And now, for our next entertainer, we have the Legendary Lady Killer. Hold onto your panties and your wedding rings, you’re all in for the ride of your life.”

The lights were turned back on from back to front. On stage, stood a muscular man with a cowboy hat and shawl. His legs were perfectly framed by black leather chaps and boots. You turned as red as his shawl as you could see his formidable bulge from yards across.

His spurs clinked on the floor as people began to cheer at his physique. Your jaw dropped in shock.

White hair.

“Ladies, I got some questions for y’all.” He drawled, lowering his hat.

“Yes! I’m single!” Someone yelled from the back. He chuckled as others screamed with agreement.

“That’s nice ma’am. But really, I got three questions.” He made his way down the stage, his shadow covering your table.

He palmed his chest and abs, showing white chest hairs and slicked down muscles.

“Can you touch this?” Everyone screamed for yes. He tutted.

“No, no, no.” He waggled his finger. He spun and exposed his lush tush. He was packing it front and back and you blushed while putting your face in your hands.

His hands groped his own butt. Even with his giant hands, he still had more ass to spare.

“Can you touch this?” The screams grew louder. He waggled his finger again, wiggling his butt.

“No, no, no.” The crowd awed. He turned back around, a cocky grin on his face.

“Now, ladies.” He pointed to the crowd.

His palms groped the leather that concealed his huge package.

“Can you touch this?” Your friend threw a wad of cash at him, hitting him in the nipple. He stood unflinching.

“No, no, no.” He drew out each word.

“These are my laws.” Putting his hands on his hips, he rocked left to right, clicking his spurs.

“But I see a hell of a lot of lawbreakers here tonight.”

He shifted to walk around the chair placed behind him. He sat on it backward, legs spread to place his groin in the spotlight.

“And I don’t see a cop in sight.” He pointed at the DJ.

“Hit it!” Music blaring, he did his number. And boy, was the DJ right to warn you. Dante practically made sweet love to the chair, flipping his head back.

Hips circling and then pistoning the air, sweat trailed down his pecs.

You ended up throwing a few bills, hoping to avoid eye contact. It failed as he slid to his knees to the edge of the stage and crawled off the ledge onto your table. Like a preying tiger, he made his way over to you.

Thank god you had health insurance, your blood pressure was going off the charts.

Your friends lost their heads, throwing bills and screaming like banshees. But he wasn’t interested in them. His eyes preyed after your own, baby blues on an absolute beast.

“Wanna save a horse and ride a cowboy, pretty girl?” He purred as he traced your jaw. Your skin jumped as you internally imploded. This was was too sensual and people were watching, for goodness sake!

“(Y/N), if you don’t agree I will cancel your Barnes and Noble membership.” Your friend threatened.

“Come on, spare this outlaw some sugar?” You didn’t have a moment to think. Dante threw his hat on your head and carried you onto the table and to the stage.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!” You shrieked.

He ran hot. So hot. Your skin burned at contact with him, pressed up against his chest as he stood you in front of the chair he practically humped.

“Take a seat, lil lady.” You blushed at his sensual persona, not sure where the kind bartender and the suave cowboy started and ended.

Obediently, you turned the chair around and sat with your ankles crossed. Dante tutted in disapproval.

His hands lingered by your legs.

“May I?” He asked. You shook your head slowly, feeling his callused hands on your thighs. He firmly spread your legs and stood over you on the chair.

As if that wasn’t enough, his arm muscles bulged and twitched as he ripped off his leather chaps. He ripped the chaps. There were no zippers or velcro straps. That was all him!

Your face a hair’s width from his abs, he gently took your hands and traced his pecs with them. He growled and winked at you.

Despite the one in a million situation you were in, you shrank at the many peering eyes of the other women and bar patrons. Your anxiety was seen by Dante, who tilted your head up.

“Hey, it’s alright. Just focus on me. If you’re nervous, just give me a purple nurple or something, alright?” You laughed at his idea of a safe word and nodded.

“Okay, Dante.”

And like that, it was like you pulled a trigger. Dante grinded on your form and explored his own peak-conditioned skin with your own hands.

You gasped as he led your hands down his front to his leather shorts. You couldn’t stop looking with widened eyes at his crotch. You had read erotica before, describing the male member in the throes of passion, yet this was the first time you had really been this close to anything like those erotic novels.

It was obscene! Why did it seem to get larger? How was he allowed to carry that thing around without a license?!

“Hey, eyes up here.” He teased as you snapped your head up.

“O-oh! Sorry.” You whispered. Your blood had rushed to your head and you had grown deaf to your friends’ yells of validation.

“Grab him by the buns!” One of your friends yelled. Dante turned around to make eye contact with her.

With a grin, he slid your hands to the back. What he didn’t expect was you to squeeze.

“Whoa now, kitty.” He purred. You gave a watery smile.

Suddenly, a water bottle was thrown at his head. With lightning reflexes, he caught it after it bounced off of him.

“Hey! Stage times’ over, you fucking show pony.” A short-haired woman with mismatching eyes called out. Dante scoffed.

“Just givin’ a nice lady some lovin’.” He argued.

“No, get off the stage, Dante.”

“Five more minutes?”

“NOW.” He sighed. Getting off of your lap, he kissed your hand that was resting on his thigh. Lord, if you died right now, that’d be fine.

“Glad to have this dance.” He flirted.

“Y-you too.” Taking your hand, he took you for another surprise and swept you off your feet. You squeaked as he handed you to another dancer on the ground. The club-goers cheered as dancers arrived, dressed like businessmen with briefcases.

You were promptly seated, head dizzy from everything that just happened. You watched as he took his leave as if he didn’t just cause you to get feverish from how hot he was. Your friend hugged you.

“Nice work! You were so lucky!” Another friend plucked the hat off your head.

“Ah! He left his hat!” You exclaimed as you took it from her hands.

“A souvenir.”

For the rest of the night, you held onto the hat and traced the red stitching. You never saw Dante for the rest of the night, his brother in charge of the bar service.

Finally, before the last round of dancers, you were tapped on the shoulder. You found yourself staring into much harsher blue eyes.

One of your friends threw money at him, which he growled at.

“I am not an entertainer. Well, not right now.” He explained. He handed you a drink with a napkin on the bottom.

“My buffoon of a brother said to keep the hat. Although, I’m not sure why you would.”

“I-”

“The drink is on the house. Good evening with you all.”

He walked off, and you took your drink. You realized it was the same one you ordered when you got to the bar.

“Hey girlie, take a look.” A well-manicured nail pointed to the napkin. You saw in red pen an arrow pointed to the folded corner.

You shakily opened it to reveal a series of numbers and words, along with a card that flitted onto the table.

Tonight was fun, wanna do it again? The card’s for a private dance, just call and ask for Dante Sparda. No crowds, only you and me. No Lady barking up my tree for appreciating beauty either-DS

A little heart with an arrow through its center was scrawled in a corner. You picked up the laminated card and saw it was for a free private dance. Your heart beat out of your chest.

Your friends laughed as you immediately stuck it in your purse, along with the note. The club closed and you were all ushered out. The night was pitch black when you emerged from the debauchery that was the Devil May Cry strip club.

As your other wasted companions were stuffed into the car, you sat shotgun to the sober and designated driver.

You were silent the car ride home, laying your head against the window. You thought about that white-haired flirt’s remarks and how gentle he was to you.

Waving and embracing your wonderful friends, you left for your apartment with all your gifts. However, the little slips of paper in your purse weighed the heaviest on your mind.

High heels in your hand, you climbed up the stairs home.

After closing the door, you slid down the wall and let out a pleased sigh.

“Best birthday ever!” You said to no one in particular.

#dante x reader #dante imagine #devil may cry imagines #devil may cry #stripper!dante

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years ago

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State of the Fic

I’m down to the last couple of prompts in my inbox, so I’m still on track to have those finished by the end of this upcoming month. I’m also a little over halfway done with Kissed by a Muse so I will be starting a new long story probably a little bit before the end of the year!

WIPs

Kissed by a Muse (Winteriron): Chapters 12- 14 posted this month!

Simply the Best (Stevetony): Chapters 1-5 posted this month! Updates on Saturdays

Promises Made Not Meant to be Broken (Stevetony): Current Ko-fi fic. Likely to be crossposted to ao3 in July

Recently Posted

Three Little Words (To Turn Your World Upside Down) (Stevetony): posted on May 7

Tony tells Steve he loves him. At first, Steve doesn't know what to do about that. But then he starts thinking about it and suddenly, he knows exactly what to do.

Of Robots and Small Children (Stuckony): posted on May 10

When a small robot runs into Bucky's foot, he's not expecting that it'll lead to finding a lost little girl - and her very attractive father.

Fireflies (Sarahbucky, Ironfalcon): posted on May 11

Upon arriving at the Wilson's house, Bucky runs into someone he thought he'd never meet again and discovers something about Sam's life that he never knew.

Safest in His Hands (Winteriron): posted on May 16

Bucky Barnes has been Tony Stark's personal bodyguard for the last three years and hopelessly pining for him for almost as long. After Tony's unknown stalker takes it too far, however, Bucky is moved from the role of bodyguard to fake boyfriend to make sure Tony is kept safe at all times. It's the chance of a lifetime, a chance to prove to Tony just how good they'd be for each other, but one misstep and it isn't just Bucky's heart that's on the line, but his life - and Tony's too.

I'll Take Care of You (Stevetony): posted on May 19

Steve finally lets Tony do a skincare routine on him.

We Own the Night (Stuckony): posted on May 21

James finds it easy to forget sometimes that Tony is not of his people. He’ll never forget that Tony didn’t grow up in their village—those first contentious months between them are impossible to forget—but Tony has taken so easily to their culture that he can almost believe sometimes that Tony grew up in one of the other villages his people had settled in along the coast.

But then there are times like now, times when he comes back to the room Howard has given them to stay in to find Tony dressed in his own people’s clothing and looking more at home than he does in their village, that he is abruptly reminded that Tony grew up here, amongst the glittering towers of M’n H’ttan, not in one of their humble villages.

Tony Stark the Science Guy (Winteriron): posted on May 23

Okay so maybe it doesn't have the same ring as Bill Nye the Science Guy, but Tony's trying, okay?

Bucky gets the chance to meet his hero in person. Hopefully, he'll be able to impress him enough to get a date out of this.

Hold Me Up (Pin Me Down) (Winteriron): posted on May 29

The thing is, Tony doesn’t exactly consider himself a kinky person. He’s had a lot of sex in his life, and that includes some pretty kinky things, some of it he hasn’t enjoyed, some of it he has—the thing with the wine bottle still makes him hard and that was almost twenty years ago. But, and here’s the important part, he’d been just as happy having plain old vanilla sex with Pepper as he’d been when Rumiko had tied him up in sparkly ropes and fucked him with the biggest strap-on he’d ever seen, and when he’s by himself, his brain is just as likely to go to the basic fantasies as it is to go to complicated scenes with toys and ropes and paddles. So he doesn’t really consider himself a kinky person.

He’s still thinking that right up until Bucky hauls the dead, fried Iron Man suit with Tony still inside up off the ground and throws him twenty feet out of the way of a falling spaceship like it’s nothing.

Tony discovers he might have a teensy weensy, itty bitty, little bit of a strength kink.

Coming Up

1. The Stony/Winterwidow Holiday AU: Chapters 5, 6, and 23 are written and being alpha read

2. Birthday prompt fics :)

3. The porn studio AU

#state of the fic #alle writes #long post

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

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When We Went From Friends to This - a. beauvillier

One day late, but here it is! I’ve been studying for the LSAT, but finally took it today, so I’ll have some more time to be writing more regularly now. Title is from Taylor Swift’s Paper Rings. I loved getting to write this, so please please let me know what you think, my inbox is always open! Reading the tags is one of my favorite things to do, and reblogs help me know people are liking my work.

word count: 7.7k+

September 18 (sat)

Astride Leclair was the kind of person you always wanted on your side. She’d drop anything for a friend, always be the first to reach out, and would never give up on something — or someone — without a fight. She was also incredibly stubborn. Astride had also always had a penchant for adventure, which is how she found herself in a new job 600 miles and one international border from her hometown. And she hated asking for help, it really didn’t matter the circumstance. Which is how she found herself alone, trying to heft an armchair up the stairs of her new apartment building after being very rudely informed by the width of the elevator door that it wasn’t going to fit.

The lump sum her firm gave her for relocation was enough to cover a fair amount of the furniture for her new place and she tried to bring as much as she could on the drive down, but it wasn’t like she was about to rent a U-Haul and there was only so much a Honda Civic could hold. And Astride was still her father’s daughter, still would rather step on a rusty nail than pay Ikea for assembly, so by God she was going to do it herself. And “doing it herself” apparently meant dragging an 80 pound box up three flights of stairs in 90º heat in September, when New York City seemed to have not quite yet gotten the memo that the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was now in fall.

Astride finally managed to get the chair in the door, propping the door open with one of her moving boxes, unceremoniously pulling the box through the entryway as she scooted backwards into the living room. The 600 square foot expanse of her apartment was covered in boxes, more boxes, and for good measure, extra boxes. There were moving boxes, furniture boxes, shoeboxes filled with anything except for actual shoes. There was her guitar leaning against the microwave, three suitcases worth of clothes in the barely-assembled bedroom, and her dog in a crate in the corner, who had started to whine.

“I know, baby, I’ll get you out soon,” Astride said, shooting a sympathetic glance towards the beagle mix. She had adopted Poutine a little over a year ago, soon after starting her first job out of university. It was never a question whether or not she would make the trip with Astride, and thankfully it was much easier than she anticipated to find a dog-friendly apartment in Brooklyn. It wasn’t too long a walk to Prospect Park, a little under a mile, and she was looking forward to getting out with Poutine later in the day. If, that was, she actually finished unpacking enough boxes to function like a normal human being. She had picked up her mattress-in-a-box earlier in the day, but it was still sitting in the corner of her bedroom and she wasn’t particularly looking forward to a night on the hardwood floor.

---

Three hours later, Astride had finally gotten all of the boxes out of her car and began to make decent headway on assembling the chair, finally having let Poutine out of her crate. The beagle trotted around the apartment, sniffing the baseboards, boxes, and single bag of groceries Astride had picked up from Whole Foods earlier in the day. The rest of her Ikea order was coming the next day, the actual bedframe and couch along with a couple of other larger furniture pieces that she had had to leave in Montréal. Whatever she couldn’t order online she’d find at a thrift store.

Astride looked tiredly over at the kitchen. She really wasn’t in the mood to cook, and was in even less of a mood to dig through all the boxes until she finally found her set of pots and pans. She really should have taken her mom’s advice and labeled everything, but Astride was stubborn as a mule, and once she was stuck in her ways, there was precious little anyone could do to convince her otherwise. Pulling out her phone, she navigated to her Uber Eats, feeling a tiny pang in her heart as she switched her location to New York. Not the language, though. Astride was so hungry that she literally clicked on whatever place could get there the fastest, which ended up being a Chinese place a mile or so away. After placing her order — she got an extra box of chow mein so she wouldn’t have to deal with breakfast the next day — she settled back into the hair, the only fully-assembled piece of furniture in the whole apartment. Her finger hovered over her Instagram for a moment before she clicked on it, liking a few photos before going to post one of her own. It was a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge as she crossed it that morning, Poutine’s head lolling out the front window. One tap and one caption later, it was posted.

---

Anthony flopped onto his bed, his duffel landing with a satisfying thump on the floor beside him. Training camp had just ended, and while he’d certainly been keeping up on his workouts over the summer, the hours upon hours of skating had nevertheless made him more than a little sore. He grabbed his phone, opening up Instagram and scrolling through the new posts, only half paying attention. Astride’s new photo caught his eye.

Sometimes, needing a change means a new haircut. Sometimes, it means a new country. Very excited to start this next chapter in my life. Salut, New York! Anthony quickly clicked onto her profile page and read her bio. International economics analyst. Eating my way through the world one pancake at a time. BCom McGill. MTL-NYC. He read the last line over and over again. MTL-NYC. He swiped back to the photo; she had tagged herself in Brooklyn. Brooklyn. She was less than an hour away, not even thirty if the traffic wasn’t bad. But she hadn’t told him, she hadn’t said anything. Anthony felt a pang in his heart. Astride knew who he played for — obviously — and she knew that of course he’d want to see her any time they were even remotely in the same place. She knew that. Right?

He spent the next twenty minutes typing out a message to her. Then deleting it. Then retyping it. Then continuing the type-delete-retype cycle until his head was spinning. This was his best friend. Why was he so nervous to talk to her? Because she was his best friend, and as much as he hated to admit it, he really wasn’t sure where they stood. He hadn’t been sure for a long time. Hey Asty! He internally cringed at himself at the use of her old nickname. I saw you moved to New York, that’s amazing! I’m over on Long Island, so I’d love to catch up with you for coffee or something when you get a chance. It’s been too long :)

It might have been a little petty — scratch that, it definitely was petty — but Astride didn’t respond to his text that night. She didn’t have read receipts on, thank God, but it sat in her messages, without response, like something she was too scared to confront. And she didn’t even know why. Okay, fine, she knew exactly why. She had moved and suddenly they were in the same city for the first time since they were kids and he was, had been, her best friend, but why now of all times? It’s not like he was never in Montréal during the year, or like they couldn’t have committed to a weekly FaceTime or something, or at least texted more than once a month. He could have done something. And that something, that lack of a something, was what kept her from responding until the next morning, tapping out a text as she halfheartedly made her way through a bowl of oatmeal. Hi, Tito, just saw your text! Lie. I did, an opportunity for a transfer came up and I decided to take it. I figured you were pretty close by, so it would be great to catch up. I don’t start at the office for a week, if you’re free any time between now and then. That much was true. She wasn’t stupid, she knew the Islanders played on, well, Long Island, and as much as she wanted to still hold a grudge against him, her heart ached at the prospect of finally being able to see him again.

Anthony responded almost instantly, Astride having just closed the door to the dishwasher — a luxury in New York, she was told — before seeing her phone light up with the telltale bubble. I’d love to, we just finished up training camp so I’m more or less free aside from practices. A second later. Is brunch still your favorite meal?

Astride laughed. It didn’t surprise her that he remembered, but it was still touching to see him say something about it. It is.

How about Tuesday? I’ll send you the directions. It’s this little café in Flatbush, I think you’ll love it.

I’m counting on it.

September 26 (sun)

Brunch had turned into dinner, which had turned into going to a Broadway show — Anthony had insisted the moment she told him she’d never been — which had turned into him coming over for Saturday night movies, an old habit of the pair’s from their days back in Québec. Which had turned into two movies and two bottles of wine, which had turned into Tito sleeping over on the couch instead of driving the thirty-odd minutes back to his apartment. Poutine sniffed him curiously, nudging one hand with her head. Astride stifled a giggle, opening the door to the balcony. “He’s very sleepy, Poutine. It’s not good manners to wake up your guests.”

“Even when they fall asleep on your couch and steal all your blankets?” Anthony said sleepily from behind.

Astride wheeled around, greeted by a half-awake Anthony Beauvillier, who was indeed bundled in all of the blankets she owned that weren’t actively on her bed. “Tito! Oh my God, you scared me. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged. “Not bad, about as well as can be expected.” He tapped his phone, cursing when he realized it was dead. “Do you know what time it is?”

She glanced down at her watch. “8:52, why?”

Anthony jumped up, throwing his shirt back on and grabbing his still-dead phone. “I’m supposed to meet Mat for breakfast at 9:30, and the place is,” he paused for a moment, running through the grid system in his head, “probably half an hour away? I’m never the late one, can’t break that streak now.”

“Gotcha.”

He grabbed his keys, looking back at her. “Why don’t you come? You’re already dressed, and you remember Mat, right?”

She wiggled her hand. “Kind of?” She crossed the room, letting Poutine back in. “You only want me for my charged phone and navigation system.”

“You got me,” he said, laughing.

---

“You named your dog Poutine?” Mat snickered, taking a bite of his eggs.

“Would you rather I named him Tim Horton?” Astride deadpanned. “He’s a good Canadian boy with a good Canadian mom. He needed a good Canadian name.”

Mat raised his coffee mug, tilting it over towards her. “Touché.”

Anthony waved his hand in front of Mat’s face, trying to catch his attention from where he was utterly preoccupied with destroying his sourdough toast. “Hey, Mat.”

“Mmm?” He glanced up.

“Did you know that Astride lives right by Barclays? Like, right by Barclays?”

His eyebrows rose. “No way?” Astride nodded. “That’s a great area, would have been awesome if you were here a couple of years ago. Short walk to the games.”

“That’s what I told her yesterday,” Tito responded.

---

“You’re kidding,” Anthony said, looking up at her building, then across the street to Barclays, then back to Astride, one hand tangling through his hair. “We used to play right across from here.”

Astride laughed. “I thought about that,” she said. “You know I still watched your games, right? Even after we fell out of touch?” Anthony shook his head. “You were still someone I cared about, are still someone I care about, even when we only talked a few times a year.”

Beau stood there, unable to formulate a complete sentence. As far as he knew, the last Islanders game she watched had been the 2016 opener, his NHL debut and her first year at McGill. Why did he assume that? Why did he assume the worst? You can care about people even when they’re not in your life anymore. And sometimes, if you get really, really lucky, they come back.

October 9 (sat)

“Ebs is having a barbeque thing over at his house this weekend, just stuff to celebrate the beginning of the season if you wanted to come. No pressure if you’ve got plans already, though,” Anthony said over the FaceTime.

Astride nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds great, I’d love to come! Just let me know when to show up and what to bring, and I’ll be there.”

It was almost a fifty-minute drive for Astride from her apartment in Prospect Heights to the house in Garden City, but there wasn’t too much traffic and besides, she had always liked driving. So she set off in her Civic, plugged her music in, and headed down 495. Anthony met her outside of the house, greeting her with a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as he cocked his head towards the backyard. “Party’s this way. Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

Astride dutifully followed, trying not to let her nerves take hold of her. Everyone might have already been Beau’s friends, but she didn’t know them, or the dynamic of everyone’s relationships, or really, what to expect at all.

He noticed her apprehension, stopping her with a feather-light touch on her arm just before walking through the back gate. “Hey, Asty. What is it?”

She let out a little huff, still upset that he could read her like a book even after all this time. “I’m just worried that I’ll feel like I’m intruding on everything, like everyone already has their friends and a group and everything, and here comes some random Québécoise who’s a friend of Tito’s—”

He laughed, turning her around to face him. “Astride, they’re going to love you. As long as you’re the hilarious, witty, caring person I know you are, they’re going to love you as much as I do, and you’re going to fit in just fine. Do you trust me?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Yeah.”

He smiled, squeezing her hand. “Good, now come back, everyone’s waiting.”

They walked through the gate, greeted by a crowd of smiling faces as Anthony brought her around to everyone to make their rounds. There was Anders, he was the captain, and his wife. There was Jordan and Lauren, and she already knew Mat, and JGP — who was excited to have another person to speak French to — and a dozen or so others, along with their respective partners and children. Anthony had gone over to talk to Mat and some of the other players, while Astride had wandered over to the drinks table. Some of the other women were chatting nearby; one of them caught Astride’s eye and waved her over to join them.

“Beau didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone!” one of the women said, pulling her over to the group with a bright smile and handing her a glass of sangria.

“Mhm,” she replied, taking a sip of the drink. “I’m new to the city, obviously, so I think he wanted me to have some people I know outside of just work.”

They all nodded. “How long have you two been together, though?” another asked. “I didn’t even know he was seeing anyone, did you?” She looked around at the others, who shook their heads as Astride’s eyes bulged.

“Together? No, no, we’re not together. We’ve been best friends for ages, but,” she shook her head.

“Could have fooled me,” Lauren said with the smallest of winks.

Astride suddenly became very interested in the floating berries in her sangria. She looked over at Anthony, who was throwing his head back, laughing at something one of the rookies had said, and smiled. But Lauren’s words kept lingering in the back of her mind. Could have fooled me. Okay, it wasn’t like it was the first time they had been mistaken for a couple; whenever she’d make the trip up to Shawingan to visit him when he was in the QMJHL, more than once she’d have to explain to his teammates that no, she wasn’t Beau’s girlfriend, they were just best friends who had known each other forever. Just best friends.

Astride had always equated her lingering feelings for Anthony to the nostalgia of a childhood crush, the safety and security that came with remembering something from a time that seemed so simple and so easy. But childhood crushes didn’t last for ten years. And that wasn’t something she hadn’t wanted to come to terms with, something she’d been putting off for years if she was being honest with herself.

“You didn’t tell me Astride was coming,” Mat commented, seeing her mid-laugh in conversation with the other girls.

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t have any plans for the weekend and I thought it would be nice to introduce her to everyone. I remember how shitty it felt to be in a new city away from your family, don’t want her to be lonely. Plus, I genuinely think she’ll fit in great with everyone.”

Mat hummed his agreement. “She’s changed since Switzerland, don’t you think?” he asked appreciatively, referring to over five years ago, the last time he had seen her in person.

“Don’t even think about it,” Beau mumbled to Mat, seeing his eyebrows go so far up they were hidden in his hairline.

“I see a hot girl, I appreciate a hot girl,” Mat shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t try anything. I know she’s off-limits.”

The rest of the afternoon passed quicker than she would have thought, and after a few hours and more good conversations, it was time for Astride to leave. “Have a safe drive back,” Anthony said, giving her a hug.

“I will,” she responded.

He opened the driver’s side door for her. “I’m really glad you came, you know. Everyone liked you, you fit in great.”

“It wasn’t all me,” she said, sliding into the seat, turning her head to Anthony to continue the conversation. “Everyone really did seem to go out of their way to make me feel included, I think they understood the feeling of moving to a whole new place without a big support system and wanted to do what they could to help mitigate that for me.” Astride consciously left out Lauren’s little comment, four words that had been bouncing around in her head for hours since they had been said. He didn’t need to know. She didn’t need him to know, it could confuse him and complicate things when they were just getting back into the rhythm of friendship, of being each other’s person.

Anthony tapped his fingers on the car door. “I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

Beau went to sleep that night, Mat’s words bouncing around in his head. “I know she’s off-limits.” It’s not like Cass was his sister or something, someone who would inherently be barred from his best friend’s dating pool. But Mat seemed to know right away, without having ever been told, that she wasn’t someone he could ever even consider pursuing. Why? And what did Mat seem to know that he didn’t?

November 12 (fri)

It was early November, and Anthony and Astride had just settled down at a table in Prospect Park, coffee cups warming their hands through the late fall chill. “How do you feel about last night?” Astride asked teasingly. He had a three point game, two goals and an assist in a 4-1 win over the Canes, so there really wasn’t any question that he was still riding on the high.

Beau rolled his eyes. “Good, obviously. It would have been nice to get a hat trick, but I know that’s asking for a lot and I didn’t want to tempt fate too much. They made a really good push late in the second.”

“But you won,” she said, poking his shoulder with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her mocha.

“But we won,” he agreed. He suddenly got quiet, the kind of quiet where, if you know the person well enough, you can tell that something’s up. That they’re thinking of something. And Astride was right. “Do you ever think about Switzerland?” he asked.

Astride looked at him from the side, knowing right away that he wasn’t asking about the country. “All the time,” she admitted.

---

It was the spring of 2015, and they were in Lucerne. By they, Astride meant her, Tito, and the rest of the 2015 Canadian U18 World Cup team. And by in Lucerne, she meant crowded into someone’s hotel room with no adult supervision. Anthony wasn’t sure where any of the coaching staff had gone, but if he was being honest, he was riding on way too big of a high to even care. They had clinched the bronze medal earlier that day, celebrating with the family and friends who had made the trip out, gotten dinner, and then packed into the first team room they came to. Well, technically, Astride, Tito, and Mat had made a stop at the grocery store before meeting everyone else back in the room. The drinking age in Switzerland was 16 for everything but spirits, and everyone was planning on taking full advantage of that. The cashier gave them a look as she took her and Anthony’s French licenses and Mat’s English one, but the charge went through just fine, and fifteen minutes later they were walking back through the doorway with three cases of beer and a few bottles of sparkling wine for good measure. Astride had never been so grateful to have her own checking account.

“You ever drink before?” Mat asked her as they opened the cases.

Astride shrugged. “Not really. A glass of wine every now and again back home with my parents, but nothing too crazy.”

He held out a bottle for her, fishing around in his pocket for the bottle opener they had picked up at the store. “Have fun.”

And have fun Astride did. She had finished off two of the beers, and one of the younger teammates — she didn’t remember who — had popped open the wine. In his slightly inebriated state, it took longer than it should have to twist off the muselet, which then led to foam all over the floor and fifteen sixteen and seventeen-year-olds running to the bathroom to grab towels to try and mop it up with. And then running back to the bathroom to get the water glasses because they needed something to drink it out of, right? And then to everyone else’s rooms because they quickly realized that two cups definitely wasn’t enough to go around, and then everyone was back in the room, on the beds and around the beds, finally letting themselves celebrate. Astride was just finishing her glass when Mat spoke. “Anyone up for never have I ever?” Nobody said otherwise, so two minutes later, they were all arranged in what could very generously be called a circle, fresh drinks in hand. After a solid five minutes of repeating the rules — there was always at least one person who seemed to genuinely struggle with the idea that you drank if you had done the thing, not if you hadn’t — they were slowly but surely making their way around the circle.

Questions ranged from the mundane — “Never have I ever gotten detention” — to the raunchy — “Never have I ever had my parents walk in on me” — neither of which Astride or Tito drank to.

By the time it was Mat’s turn, he had had plenty of time to think, looking around the group with a conspiratorial grin. “What is it?” Tito asked skeptically.

He shrugged. “Never have I ever...kissed anyone in the circle.” As expected, nobody drank, but apparently that wasn’t expected, not for Mat, at least. He looked between Anthony and Astride incredulously. “Seriously? You two have never kissed?”

Anthony shook his head. “Nope.”

“How? You’ve been friends for, like, a million years, not even when you were little or anything?” he asked.

“Never,” Astride said. “Kind of hard to kiss your best friend when you haven’t kissed anyone before.” She barely even realized that everyone was still listening in.

“You’ve never kissed anyone?” Anthony asked, surprised.

Astride looked down at her hands, sipping her beer. “Nope.” She gave him a brief smile. “I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of, but no. Just hasn’t happened yet.”

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or maybe it was feelings buried so deeply in Anthony’s mind that he didn’t think would ever see the light of day, let alone have to be confronted, that made him say what he did next. “I could—if you wanted—you don’t have to, but—” he stammered.

Astride laughed, looking at him curiously. “What is it, Tito? You’re not normally one to stumble over your words like that.”

He picked at his fingernails, an old nervous tick from his childhood that his mother was never quite able to get him to break, keenly aware that the whole room had decided to listen into their conversation. “I was just trying to say...I could do it, if you want. Kiss you, I mean. If you just wanted to get it over with, or whatever. I just figured. You know me, you trust me, you’re comfortable with me. Better that than some idiot at school who doesn’t care about you.”

Her cheeks burned as she looked over at him, but even though it took her nearly a minute to respond, she had her answer after five seconds. “Why not?” Astride flashed him the purest, gentlest smile, the kind that let him know just how much she cared about him and how deeply she trusted him. And the look on her face meant the world to him.

Anthony leaned in, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder, his fingertips just barely touching her cheek as their foreheads leant together. “You sure about this?” He needed her to be sure.

She nodded. “I’ve had a couple of drinks, and I never imagined my first kiss would be in front of an audience,” she paused to giggle at the rest of the team, who were giving the scene their full attention in a way that somehow wasn’t uncomfortable at all, just wholesome and supportive, “but yeah. I’m sure.”

That was all the permission Anthony needed to lean forward, pressing his lips against hers, in a kiss that was soft and sweet and somehow everything Astride needed all in one. He pulled back after a moment, a goofy smile on his face. “How was it?”

Astride couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Good, it was really good, Tito. Thank you for that.”

“What are friends for?”

---

“Friends are for kissing each other, apparently,” Astride giggled, leaning into Anthony on his couch.

He laughed, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb over her arm. “Did you ever think something was going to happen between us?” Anthony asked curiously.

Astride shrugged. “At some point, yeah. I think it was kind of hard not to, with our parents and literally everyone we spent time with saying we were destined to fall in love.” She looked down at her hands, trying not to give away the fact that at one point, she had believed them.

November 30 (tues)

“Do you want to come over Friday?” Anthony asked, sprawled out across her couch on one of his rare nights off. He had made the drive over to Astride’s apartment, cooking salmon and roasting vegetables while she took the much more daunting task of picking what to watch on Netflix. She settled on Back to the Future. “I can order in Thai, I know we’re trying to work our way through the Mission Impossibles.”

Astride grimaced. “I actually...kind of have a date Friday night,” she admitted.

Anthony made a hum of surprise. “You do?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so shocked, Tito. There are men in this city of nine million who want to take me out.”

He sputtered. “It’s not that that shocks me, Asty. You’d have men lining up around the block for you if you’d give any of them a second glance. It’s just that. You never seem to bother actually going after any of them. What made this one different?”

“I mean, honestly hour?” Astride said, shrugging.

“Honestly hour.”

“I haven’t been on a date since I left Montréal, you know that. It had been a few months there too. And I’ve loved hanging out with you more, getting to know Mat and the team and everyone’s partners, but...I needed something different, too. Something that felt like a part of my life that wasn’t directly connected to the team. Which, don’t get me wrong,” she added hastily, “I love them, and it’s been so nice to be a part of that group, I just…” Astride trailed off.

“You can’t let that be the only part of your life. I get it,” Anthony added helpfully.

“Yeah,” Astride agreed. “So enter Cole. He works in a different division of the IE department, I’m obviously Europe and he’s Asia, mostly does work with Taiwan and Singapore. Um,” she said, her eyes turning towards the ceiling, “he seems really nice, did international business at UPenn, which is a great program. Speaks fluent Mandarin, uh, I think he mentioned he’s got a few fish at home.”

Anthony snorted. “What’s wrong with fish?” Astride asked defensively.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong with fish,” he said. “Just seems like an odd choice. Maybe his building doesn’t allow pets or something.”

“Maybe,” Astride responded. “I wouldn’t know, he lives in Manhattan, over in Tribeca. Bikes to work.”

Tito laughed again. “I don’t trust people who bike to work in New York City, Asty. They have zero regard for their own lives or safety.”

She giggled. “That might be true. But I’m looking forward to it, the date, I mean. I really am. It’s been a while since I’ve really put myself back out there, and I’m ready for something good. Something real.”

He gave a half-smile from his side of the couch. “I’m happy for you, Astride. I hope you have a great time, and I hope he treats you right. If he doesn’t, just let him know that you can sic an entire professional hockey team on him with a single phone call.”

“I will,” she said. “I’ll call you when it’s over, tell you how it went.” “

I’ll be waiting,” he said.

Anthony thought back on the conversation as he sat on the corner of his bed that night, about to go to sleep. He turned his phone over and over in his hands, his eyes fixating on the chip in the crown molding that he hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet. He wasn’t lying to Astride when he said he was happy for her. He was, of course he was, who wouldn’t want their best friend to be happy? But while he wanted nothing more, nothing more, than to be able to give his full-throated support for her date, and the potential the future held for her and this Cole guy, he couldn’t do it. There was something stopping him. And the worst part of it all was that Anthony was starting to realize what it was.

---

Astride had said that their dinner reservation was at 7, some brasserie in the West Village. “That’s a French thing, right?” Cole had asked.

“It is,” Astride responded, gearing up for her translation skills to be used for the first time in months. She spoke almost exclusively French around Tito, and with JGP and Brassard, but the majority of her day was spent in English. Cole said that the restaurant had come highly recommended from one of his Wall Street friends, something that should have been the first red flag.

“Never trust the finance bros,” Reese, a German specialist and one of her friends at the office, had said. “They all think they’re God’s gift to mankind when I can guarantee you they ain’t shit.”

She had said it was at 7, so Anthony wasn’t expecting to hear from her until much later; honestly, he would have been surprised if she had called before 10. He tried not to think about what it could mean if she didn’t call at all that night. She had said it was at 7, so when he heard a knock at his door at half past nine, he practically jumped out of his skin before scrambling to open the door. His eyebrows rose when he saw Astride on the other side of the door, then his face contorted into a look of sympathy as he saw the sad smile on her lips, her jacket slung over one arm.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He nodded without question, holding the door while stepping out of the way. He padded to the kitchen, bringing out a bottle of Moscato and two glasses. Astride smiled gratefully at him as he uncorked the bottle and poured. He knew that she couldn’t do red wine when she was upset, and she was upset.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked tentatively.

Astride shrugged, sipping the wine. “Not much to tell other than it was probably the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

That piqued Anthony’s interest. He’d never be happy that she was upset, but something told him the story wasn’t quite that simple. “What about it was so bad?”

“Where do I begin?” she sighed. “He was on time, but that’s pretty much the only thing Cole did right the entire night. He was rude to the waitress when we had to wait all of ten minutes until our reservation was ready, because the couple ahead had gone long. Then he ordered the most expensive bottle of red wine they had, without even asking me to see what I wanted. He really just was trying to show off that he could afford it. And it was a Sangiovese, and you know I hate dry wines, so I was just trying to choke the whole thing down. And then he insisted on ordering for me, which is probably the most chauvinistic thing I could think of, I mean, who does that anymore?” she asked incredulously.

Tito shrugged. It was disrespectful, absolutely, but more than that, it was just weird. If women have mouths that work, then they’re more than capable of doing something as simple as ordering their own food.

“And he kept trying to pour me more wine after the first glass, even when I told him a million times I was good.” Anthony’s grip on his glass tightened. Astride rubbed her temples with her free hand. “He just kept going on and on about work, and this big promotion he’s insisting he’s going to get even though I know for a fact that they want Maria for it. I could barely get a word in edgewise. That’s when I just decided I couldn’t take it anymore. I faked that Jean-Claude was calling, grabbed my jacket, and caught a cab over here.” She looked up at him, the same disappointed expression she had worn when he opened the door. “I was really hoping this one would pan out, Tito.”

He felt an ache in his heart. He may have been less than thrilled about the prospect of Astride going out on a date, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see her so despondent. He leaned over, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose. “I know, Asty. And I’m sorry it didn’t.”

December 13 (mon)

Anthony and Mat were the last ones in the locker room after a morning practice. “I found this new place nearby last week that’s got great smoothie bowls, want to get one after you finish packing your stuff?” Anthony asked, looking over at Mat.

“Yeah, yeah. Sure, Sounds good,” Mat nodded, half-listening.

Anthony glanced over at him, a weird look on his face. “You good, dude? You sound distracted.”

Mat spoke abruptly, looking over at Tito with a laser-focused expression. “How long have you been in love with Astride?”

Anthony’s eyebrows jumped a foot. “In love with Astride? Why would you think that?”

Mat gave him a look, the kind of look that let Anthony know he was dead serious about what he was saying, and more than that, that he believed it. “Tito, I’m dumb, but I’m not stupid.”

Anthony leaned forward, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It’s that obvious?”

“Yep,” Mat said, popping the p.

“Do you think she knows?” His voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Mat said, shrugging. “I don’t think so, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to really be able to know about something as big as that and not address it. Doesn’t like to keep things bottled up, it’s not really her style.”

Anthony nodded. “It’s not.” He raked one hand through his haid, his head still leaning on the other one. “God. How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with her?”

Mat put one hand on Beau’s back, comforting him as best he could. “I don’t know, Tito. I wish I could help. What I do know,” he said, “is that you’re going to have to eventually. Because it’s going to tear you up if you don’t.”

December 18 (sat)

Astride tossed one final empty can into the garbage bag. “I think that’s it,” she said, giving his living room a cursory look. What had looked like a warzone only less than an hour before now more closely resembled the somewhat-messy but perfectly respectable bachelor pad of a man in his 20s, like it should have. With the holidays approaching, Anthony had decided to take it into his own hands to host a party — alongside Astride, who he had practically begged for help — intent on showcasing his newly-acquired skills by playing bartender the whole night. He was surprisingly capable, Astride had thought, if her Sazerac was anything to go by.

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Asty. And thanks for staying and helping clean everything up, you really didn’t have to.”

She tied the bag off and set it by the door with the other one. “I wanted to. And besides, I’m staying over,” she said, looking over at Anthony, “so what did you think I was going to do? Lock myself in the guest room while you cleaned up the whole apartment by yourself? What kind of a woman do you take me for?” she asked in mock offense.

Anthony laughed, sitting down on the couch with a satisfying thump, pulling Astride into his side when she settled next to him.

“I’m so glad we got back in contact,” she said, muffled against the fabric of his hoodie. “I’m so glad we’re friends again.”

He felt guilty; more than that, he knew that the guilt, at least some of it, was deserved. “I should have done more,” he lamented. “I should have done more to keep in contact, more to show you I cared, more so you’d know that your friendship is one of the things I value most in my life.”

Astride gave a small smile. “It’s a two-way street, Tito. Sure, I won’t lie and say that you really put all that much effort into keeping in contact. You didn’t.” He winced, she shot him a sympathetic look. “I love you, but you know me. I don’t mince my words. But I definitely could have done more than text you congratulations or leave a thirty-second voicemail on your birthday. We both could have done more. We both should have done more,” she said, correcting herself. “What do you think happened, though? Where did we go wrong?” As much as she might have hated it, Astride was that kind of person. She went through every bad decision in her life with a fine-toothed comb, needing to know what went wrong, needing to know what she could have done differently.

“I think,” he began, “that it was just so easy to get distracted from ‘back home’ things. From our friendship, from my relationships with my family. From the important things, the things that I should have made an effort to prioritize even when the season got hectic and games got hard. And I’m not trying to make excuses,” he added quickly, “but there was just something about where I was, physically and mentally. I was 19, a rookie in one of the biggest cities in the world, and I think I just lost sight of things. Between the practices and games and going out and community events and trying to get in more than five hours of sleep a night, it was a lot,” he admitted. “It was stressful, probably weighed on me more than I wanted to admit. And I don’t want to sound ungrateful, because I’m well aware I was — and am — living a life thousands of kids would kill for, but there’s a lot that goes on behind the scenes that you don’t really understand unless you’ve been through it. I don’t have many regrets from my rookie season, or really many in my career so far. Don’t regret moving for minors, don’t regret going to the Isles, don’t regret any of the contracts I’ve signed or plays I’ve made. Well,” he smirked, “maybe a few. But the one big one? The only real regret I’ve had? Letting you go.”

Astride swallowed hard, choosing her next words carefully. “What do you mean, letting me go?”

Anthony let out a hard sigh. He’d put it off for long enough. He couldn’t do it any longer. “Never telling you how I feel.”

“How you feel?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper, her fingers tangling in the fringe of the fleece blanket that was slung over the couch cushions.

“Like I love you so much my heart could burst.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “How long have you known?”

He looked at her with a soft smile. “Ever since Switzerland.”

“Six years?”

“Six years.” He reached out slowly, so slowly, pushing a stray piece of hair behind her ear when she didn’t move back. They sat in silence for a moment, and when Anthony spoke again, his voice wavered. “Asty? Say something.”

Astride’s lifted her head, finally meeting his eyes. “I knew since I was 15.”

His face split into a grin, wider and wider until she was sure she’d never seen a bigger smile. “You did? You do?”

She nodded, leaning forward so their foreheads were touching. She put her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat fluttering butterfly-fast underneath her fingertips. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I knew what love was, Tito.”

He pushed forward, pressing his lips against hers for the first time since 2015, the first time since Switzerland. It was gentle and meaningful and somehow communicated all of the love and emotion that had been built up between the two of them in the past six years. Anthony pulled back after a minute, his lips pink and slightly puffy. “Tell me where your head’s at, Astride.”

“Is it too cliché to just say that this might be the happiest I’ve been in years?”

He shook his head, smiling. “Not at all.” But there was something that she wasn’t quite letting go of. “What is it, Astride?”

Astride sniffed. “I want this. You and I, I want it so mad it hurts. I just hate the idea that we’d turn into some sort of cliché. Childhood friends who grow up and fall in love, but something goes wrong and they split up and suddenly the dynamic of everything is messed up and I don’t want that, Tito. I don’t know if I could deal with you hating me because of how things ended.”

“But things don’t have to end, Asty. Every broken heart, every date where some asshole has stood you up has led you to know that you deserve more. You deserve so much more, Astride, you deserve the sun and the moon and someone who would hang them in the sky for you. It doesn’t have to end in heartbreak. It doesn’t have to end at all.”

Astride had always been someone who was cautious, someone who thought before she acted and never spoke without thinking through every possible outcome. But this was one of the times that she couldn’t do that, one of the times when, as much as she may have hated it, she needed to take a leap of faith. And so she did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Anthony asked, his voice lifting.

She nodded, the happiness on her face unmistakable. “Okay.”

And as Astride and Anthony FaceTimed her parents to break the news, her mom slapping her dad’s shoulder, claiming that she had “called it” back in 2014, Astride was filled with a sense of undeniable, irreplaceable joy. The kind of joy that the poets write about and artists put brush to canvas trying to depict, the kind that most people go their whole lives only hoping to get a glimpse of. The kind that made Astride more certain of one thing than she had perhaps been in her entire life. It didn’t have to end in heartbreak. And this one didn’t have to end at all.

And as they stood two years later in a little church in their hometown, promising in front of their family and friends and the entire New York Islanders to love each other for the rest of their lives, Astride finally believed it.

#anthony beauvillier #hockey smut #hockey writing #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #new york islanders

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pencilofawesomeness · 4 years ago

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Fics I Absolutely Adore and Would Recommend to Anyone

I’ve been meaning to do this for a long, long time, because I love reading fanworks and they deserve a lot of love and I love sharing things that I love.

Obviously this isn’t everything, and if it’s not on this list that doesn’t mean I don’t love it, it just means I forgot at this moment. I will be adding to the list and I remember things or come across it again. (Trying to sort through my bookmarks and subscriptions is like trying to catch a fish bare-handed.) I’m also gonna shy away from the one-shots, even though I adore fun one-shots, just for the sake of organization. The list would be super long otherwise, and those are best sorted by fandom. Here... Here are just some brilliant works I want to rant about.

Disclaimer: I say “recommend” because I would recommend these works, any time any place, but do keep in mind the story’s rating and tags and stuff. Not everything is kid-friendly.

There is absolutely no hierarchy to the list below. They are added as I add.

Fairy Dance of Death

by Catsy ( @fairydanceofdeath )

Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 660,282 Status: ongoing

「AU reboot of the entire SAO storyline, beginning from the premise that Kayaba Akihiko was obsessed with magic and Norse Mythology rather than swords and pure melee. As a result, he created the Death Game of Alfheim Online rather than the floating castle of Aincrad—a world in which player-killing is not a crime, and the nine player races are in competition with each other to reach the top of the World Tree. Multi-POV epic following the stories of multiple canon characters throughout the game.」

If Catsy wrote the SAO light novels and anime, SAO would be among the legendary series. Fairy Dance of Death has this amazingly simple premise of making Alfheim Online, the video game from the original series’ less-than-stellar second part, the game that the main cast becomes trapped in. However, it’s so much more. They took the characters and made them characters, and everyone gets ample spotlight—even background characters that normally wouldn’t receive a second thought. It’s masterful work, and to boot, there is a lovely frame of in-game mystery and player conflict. The organization is phenomenal and I aspire to world-build the way they did. Not to mention that stakes are so much higher and this series has ripped my heart to shreds more than once.

It has also brought me great joy, and even when I was in the dumps and didn’t want to read anything, a FDOD update made me pick up my phone and read when I otherwise wouldn’t have. It has a really special place in my heart. It updates once in a blue moon, but that’s okay.

Even if you have never seen a single piece of Sword Art Online, Fairy Dance of Death is still a great read. In fact, it’s the Better Version of SAO, if we’re all being honest, so I would especially recommend it if you hadn’t seen the original. Or if you have. The characters are given so much love and detail, to the point where Fairy Dance of Death’s characterizations are More Canon to me than Kawahara Reki’s work. It is just a beautiful piece of fiction, and it makes you question the depravity of man on levels that SAO shied away from.

Poisoned Dreams

by StrangeDiamond

Fandom: Genshin Impact Word Count: 82,852 Status: Complete, with a complete sequel and more to come

「 Every night now, Diluc dreams of death. Usually Kaeya's. In between these nightmares his life is falling apart. It doesn't take Kaeya long to realize that this is something much more insidious than simple bad dreams. His brother's life and sanity are on the line and there is nothing Kaeya won't do to save him. Bonus chapter added.」

In a growing fandom from a new game, StrangeDiamond swooped in and characterized these bad boys so well I think it’s canon. It really breathes life into the video game lore, and it’s an A+ depiction of awkward sibling re-bonding post-Terrible-Happenings. Poisoned Dreams can be read alone with a basic understanding of Genshin storybuilding, but StrangeDiamond has an entire group of fics and oneshots set in the same headcanon, and they integrate them really well and subtly together. Not to mention that the narrative style is really clever with making you question what is real and what is dream (a big point in this story) and the inner voices of the point-of-view characters are very compelling.

One Word to Change the World

by AgentMalkere

Fandom: Fairy Tail Collective Word Count: 43,988 (30 parts) Status: probably never coming back

「 In just one universe, Ultear called out to her mother instead of turning away and the fate of Fairy Tail and the world was irrevocably altered. These are glimpses of a world where a single word made all the difference.

In other words, welcome to the Butterfly Effect - Fairy Tail style. 」

It’s a really cute canon-divergent, and while the series makes no attempt to re-write Fairy Tail, it addresses the major events and just snippets in between. It does a good job at giving the vast cast ample spotlight, but it’s also an easy read. It’s special to me because it was the series that made me really pay attention to Bickslow in particular, and I respect that.

Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis

by aradian_nights

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 399,226 Status: Complete

「 Five years ago, an accident freed Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, and Armin Arlelt from an experiment that forced the most extraordinary powers onto them. After five years of separation, of being raised apart to be heroes by a set of three very different adults, they meet again. As they uncover the truth behind their captivity they realize being free and being heroes are sadly nothing but an illusion. 」

This wrecked me.

I still remember when I read it. It was the beginning of 2018, and I had the flu and a lot of time on my hands, so I binge-read this. It was simultaneously the best and the worst thing I have ever done, because I resonated with it so deeply there were times I was just staring up at the ceiling wondering what was real. I empathized with the characters to a level I rarely achieve, and I empathize easily. I laughed. I cried. It was amazing.

I refer to this story in conversation to this day. It handled themes published authors have only dreamed of achieving. Heck, if Dani (the author) took out the names of the AoT cast and replaced it with new ones, it could be its own stand alone novel. It is worldbuilding from the ground up, and any fandom knowledge you take in with you is used against you like a knife leveraged against your throat. Yet, no one is out of character. It’s phenomenal. I would say more, but this is something I daren’t spoil for anybody, because you must be as wrecked as I was. Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis is a level of writing I achieve to gain as a writer myself. It is a masterpiece in every sense of the word.

Life in Glass Houses

by blueskyscribe ( @blueskyscribe )

Fandom: Transformers (Transformers Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass) Word Count: 119,900 Status: Ongoing (maybe, I hope)

「 No one would have thought Bumblebee and Knock Out were capable of getting along, but when they're stuck in a strange new world and their only hope of survival is cooperation . . . Yeah, they're probably doomed. 」

I could be biased because Knock Out and Bumblebee are two of my favorite characters, but it really is brilliant. Two enemies, stuck together—but not in an overly cliché way. It’s the right amount of cliché, with heaps moral conflict and inner conflict and sometimes just beating each other with a broom when no one is looking. It’s also a fascinating look into what makes a character the way they are in relation to the morals they possess, and how stalwart those morals can be. I can’t help but think of this story whenever I see or write a “role reverse” or mirror-verse AU. It does an excellent job at making all of the characters engaging and their own character, despite being in a mirror-verse.

Yesterday Upon the Stair

by PitViperOfDoom ( @pitviperofdoom )

Fandom: My Hero Academia Word Count: 424,070 Status: Complete

「 Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it's not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it.

But truthfully, the "weird" part is the only part that's accurate. He's determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he's not actually quirkless. Even before meeting All-Might and taking on the power of One For All, Izuku isn't quirkless.

Not that anyone would believe it if he told them. 」

As a person who normally doesn’t read these kind of minor canon divergences, especially at the time of reading, I frickin’ love this fic. In fact, I think YUTS gave me a deep appreciation for canon divergence fics. It’s MHA in all of its glory but it’s so much more, and even the parts that rehash canon give new light to the characters and their points of view.

I had read Viper’s work before and saw Yesterday Upon the Stair filling my inbox, and then I finally watched My Hero Academia. It was one of the first MHA fics I read and it still has a very special place in my heart. I recommend this series to people who don’t even watch MHA; in fact, there are some who might prefer the darker tones and themes of heroism vs apathy to the main series. Not to mention the writing style is phenomenal, and I aspire to be that good. It made me laugh. It made me cry. Yes, tears streaming down my face crying. It is the best ghost story I have ever read.

the Vantage Point Universe

by Aggie2011 ( @aggie2011whoop )

Fandom: The Avengers (MCU) Collective Word Count: 1,032,651 (35 parts) Status: Ongoing (just slowed down)

「 Six months after the Loki incident, Clint isn't adjusting well. When an enemy from his days in the Army comes back to haunt him, he'll be forced to face a part of his past - and to move past Loki, if he has a hope of finding his place with the Avengers. (First of a universe created to center around Clint Barton) 」

// description taken from first installment

Have you enjoyed the MCU, especially the first-era Avengers phase, but like me, were disappointed in the fact that Hawkeye was barely there? The VP universe is for you.

I honestly have a hard time remembering what was canon and what was VP. And if it’s not canon, it should be. The VP universe gave so much life to Clint and to Natasha and to all of SHIELD and even the rest of the Avengers. It’s just...so good. It’s completely immersive. It focuses a lot on Hawkeye and Black Widow from before the Avengers team-up, as well as after, and it all flows together so beautifully. Not to mention that I can be reading a mission that happened pre-series, so I know that they are going to live with all of their limbs, and I still sit there on the edge of my seat the whole time.

The OCs, minor as they are, that are created for this are also wonderfully done. I can’t believe Dan and Phil don’t exist in canon. Every character, canon or no, is engaging and dynamic, it is a pleasure to follow each point of view. The emotional turmoil is also handled very well, and the VP universe carries the MCU trend of humanizing its heroes and takes it so much further.

Ghosts of the Future

by Evan Stanley ( @evanstanleyportfolio )

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog Word Count: comic (18 issues) Status: ongoing

「 About 200 years in the future, Silver the Hedgehog is an average kid living in San Francisco... except for his strange and terrible dreams of a dying Blue Hedgehog, a Black Hedgehog, and mysterious gems called "Chaos Emeralds". What will he do, when these "figments of his imagination" appear before him in his real life? 」

// description taken from first installment

Okay so this is the only one that isn’t an Ao3 story, but rather a comic on DeviantArt. However, it is still one of my favorite stories. Even though it takes the commonalities of Sonic canon and turns them on its head, GotF really treats the characters well. There are enough familiar world elements to create intrigue, but it is set in a completely different take of the future, so there is ample opportunity for world building and being able to engage with a completely new thing. I wish SEGA put as much love in the series (namely the games, because the comics are *chef’s kiss*) and all of its possibilities as creators like Evan Stanley do.

The friendship and family relationships in GotF are so diverse and all so fantastic to witness. It’s a keynote example of the new hero and the old veterans, and both parties are active and trying their best.

Do not be alarmed by the starting art style. Sure, it’s rough around the edges at first, but then it gets better, and then it gets gorgeous, and then you’re left there so stunned that it looks like just life canon art. And then you could be like me, blinking slowly as my small brain finally connected that this Evan Stanley is in fact the Evan Stanley. GotF is an amazing fanwork, but she also draws and writes for the Official Canon comics (the IDW ones now) and that work is also phenomenal and should be supported.

Whirlwind

by Lynse ( @ladylynse )

Fandom: Danny Phantom, American Dragon: Jake Long, Miraculous Ladybug, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja Word Count: 75,556 Status: Complete

「 Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny really should've expected something like this when he got that phone call from Jake. (Secret Quartet fic) 」

I have to start by saying that I adore all of Lynse’s fics, and I chose this one simply because it is one of my favorites. But it’s all fantastic, one hundred percent. I also love Mirrored, the sort-of prequel to this fic, but Whirlwind just has the chaotic pure bean energy that each of the shows bring and it foils against each other so perfectly. This is the epitome of the Secret Quartet crossover, truly.

All fandoms and all characters get ample love, and the way the reader gets to see just how badly the characters’ assumptions are going is positively wonderful. It’s so easy to fall into the “I know what’s happening and so do the characters” trap, but Lynse leaps over it gracefully and lands in greatness. The fic had me smiling like a maniac one minute, and feeling sorry for my babies the next. Wonderful. Simply fantastic!

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wkemeup · 4 years ago

Text

To Be Happy

inbox request: “is there ever a time where y/n sort of gets overwhelmed with how much her life has changed ?? but in a good way ??” by anonymous ❤️ pairing: bucky x reader chapter word count: 1.5k warnings: none ❤️ 🌹series masterlist 🌹

“Wait, wait! You promised to tell us more about Hydra if we all did the reading this week!” one of the criminal justice majors enrolled in your 20th Century Literature course raised his arm desperately, moments before the end of class.

“I suppose I did,” you nodded, laughing as several other students, even the ones appropriately in the correct course for their major, nodded along eagerly. You took off your glasses and set them on the table. The whole classroom sank back into their seats as if watching a movie.

You didn’t give them much, just enough to keep them interested for more and willing to do the assigned readings. If it encouraged participation, you didn’t mind sharing what you’d learned about Hydra over the years. The kids were fascinated and it earned you a reputation around campus enough to have your classes filled within seconds of registration.

Today, you told them about the secret back room in the Lernaean. It had been a long time since you’d even thought about the club Brock had used to launder money for Hydra, but the kids seemed enthralled at the idea of a hidden door behind the bar.

As you dismissed the class for the day, gathering your things and ready to head home after three lectures and five hours of open office hours, you found a student waiting for you by the door. She held her books tight to her chest, nervously smiling at you as you caught her attention.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Daisy,” you chuckled, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised by your question, as if she were expecting she wouldn’t get that far. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was wondering if I could schedule office hours with you? I was hoping you could help me with a paper I’m writing on—"

“It’s a little early to work on the final, Daisy,” you suggested with a smile, gesturing for her to follow you as you made your way out of the lecture hall, “but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

“Actually, it’s for my women’s studies class,” Daisy blurted out, causing you to pause. You narrowed your eyes on her, waiting for her to continue. She clearly her throat. “Professor Hill asked us to pick a woman in history we admire and write about how they persevered when the whole world was against them.”

“Oh, Daisy,” you started, a little stunned, “I don’t know if I would be an appropriate choice for—”

“My dad was killed by Hydra when I was little,” Daisy explained quietly. “What you did, teaming up with the feds and taking down Hydra from the inside after all they did to you… It’s amazing. I know the CJ guys in this class are all caught up on the Hydra of it all, but I’d really like to be able to learn more about you and what it was like on the inside, why you decided to fight, and how you did it. I already ran it by Professor Hill and she was on board as long as it was okay with you.”

You watched Daisy for a minute, surprised by the confidence growing in her stance as she spoke. This was important to her and there were few people you’d be willing to share those kinds of stories with, but as she glanced up hopefully, you couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s okay with me,” you said, and Daisy nearly jumped off the ground. “You can add your name to the list outside my office for the time you’d like, okay?”

“Yes! Yes, of course! Thank you!” Daisy was already halfway down the hall, waving enthusiastically as she sprinted towards your office. You laughed to yourself as you watched her disappear amongst the crowd of students.

***

“You’ll never guess what happened at work today,” you said as you closed the apartment door behind you, quickly overcome by a wave of cumin and chili powder.

Taco night.

Chopped tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, and tortillas lined the table with tiny bowls filled with toppings and spices. At the edge, a chemistry textbook. You paused, narrowing your eyes.

Peter emerged from the bathroom, grinning wide as he spotted you at the front door. “You’re home!”

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” you laughed, rushing in to give him a hug.

“Aunt May’s working late tonight and Bucky said ‘tacos’ so I was on the first train over.”

“Obviously.”

“Give me ten minutes and we’re good to go!” Bucky called from the kitchen. He was dressed in an old pair of jeans ripped at the knees and a t-shirt that had gone through the wash a few too many times. It was faded and stretched at the neck, but he was comfortable and grinning wildly as he wafted the steam of the ground beef from the pan.

“I’ll move my stuff!” Peter cheered, lunging for the textbook and tossing it into his bag.

“Are you done studying?” you questioned to which Peter scrunched his nose at you.

“You sound like Aunt May.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“It’s taco night, Y/n!”

“Yeah, Y/n, it’s taco night,” Bucky chimed in, smirking as Peter nodded along.

“If Aunt May calls over here wondering why I let you off the hook on studying for this exam, I’m blaming the two of you,” you conceded, sinking down into the chair and Bucky placed a margarita on front of you.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

***

“Wait, that’s so cool,” Peter said, mouth half full of his four taco. “This girl’s writing an essay on you?”

“I guess so,” you shrugged, trying to play it off but the truth was you were far more excited than you let on. You hadn’t had a chance to tell your side of the story outside of the connections you made with the women down at Hope Haven and despite the fact that the only reader would likely be your good friend Maria Hill, it meant something to you.

“That’s amazing,” Bucky nodded, reaching for your hand under the table and giving it a light squeeze.

“Definitely better than that punk at my school who wouldn’t keep his mouth shut,” Peter grumbled, angrily biting into another taco as the hard shell cracked to pieces on his plate. “At least he learned his lesson.”

“Watch yourself, Peter,” you warned. “You don’t need to be defending my honor to a high school senior, okay?”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot more kids talking about how cool you are anyway,” Peter shrugged casually. “MJ is probably your biggest supporter and most kids at the school are afraid of her so… no more fist fights for me.”

“Well good,” you laughed. “I like MJ.”

“Me, too,” Peter replied dreamily, a little caught up in his head to notice the hearts consuming his eyes. You glanced over at Bucky, laughing quietly amongst yourselves.

It was strange, you realized, this foreign feeling in your stomach. It came up every once in a while in moments like these; where Bucky sat comfortably at the seat to your left, his hand holding yours under the table, Peter sitting across from you going on and on about what colleges he was thinking about applying to.

It was a comfortable feeling, a safe feeling, one you didn’t question whether it would be ripped out from under you or break apart at the seams. Something so simple, so domestic, that most people wouldn’t think twice about, but as you watched Peter and Bucky make their way into the kitchen to clean up, laughing amongst themselves as Bucky swatted Peter on the arm with a dishrag, it didn’t feel so simple. It felt extraordinary.

After all you’d been through, to survive the reign of Hydra, to escape the control of a man who was hellbent on keeping you under his thumb, to come out the other side to a man who loved you beyond what you thought capable, to a classroom full of eager students, to a family you never thought you’d have.

“You alright, honey?” Bucky called from the kitchen, his face softening as he noticed the way you were watching them.

You nodded, brushing away the tears under your eyes and offering him a smile that felt near contagious. “I’m perfect, Buck. Just really happy is all.”

Bucky smiled at that, extending up into his cheeks and wrinkling by his eyes. “Good. Stay that way forever, okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, nodding along as Peter came up behind Bucky’s shoulder and muffled out a ‘yeah!’ between bites of shredded cheese. Cheddar scampered along the floor to sniff at the few pieces of cheese that had slipped from between Peter’s fingers, before he turned his head away in favor of the food bowl sitting in the corner of the kitchen.

Surrounded by your boys. Perfectly content. Safe. and Loved.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes

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bravo-four-seal-team · 4 years ago

Text

Demons and Help?||Part 1/2

Co-written/Proof read: @disasterfandoms

Summary: Ashley is finally in Virginia, battling her own Demons, what could go wrong with being out at 5am? She did not expect to run in to the people or person she’s been trying to avoid A/N: Trigger warnings added, torture mention, blood mention, argument, captivity mention. (yes I know its early in the morning)

Tag: @rebelwrites @chibsytelford @galaxysanduniversesinmymind @velvetcardiganbucky @supervalcsi @abby-splace @itsonautopilot @thegirlwhoisalwayswriting @pinkrockstar19 @softi92 @mrsmarvelous1995 @jayhalsteadfan-2417

“Tell me why you are in my country,” the figure asks, slowly walking around the area she was hanging from.

“For the view,” Ashley smirked, spitting blood to the floor, head snapping to the side as a hand connected hard with her cheek.

“Get the wires,” the figure smirked as another two men moved in. She knew it was a battery; she’d been through this for the past two days. “I give you one more chance to tell me,” the figure said.

Ashley spat in his face. “Bite me,” she snapped.

The next few minutes were agony. She screamed as the wires came into contact with her skin, leaving behind marks of where they were being placed. Wheezing when it finally ended, “Get her down” the voice snapped, her arms unhooked from above her, the pain shooting through her shoulder, she was dragged over to a tub head shoved under, again and again, each time she struggled, causing her to swallow more water. She would be held as she was repeatedly struck in the stomach, then her head shoved back under the water.

“She want to play savior, then we let her,” the figure laughed, selecting the whip on the table, the light reflecting off the metal shards in the leather. Ashley tried to break free as the whip was brought closer to her. Hands gripped her, holding her in place on her knees as the weapon came down on her back. She bit down on her lip, trying not to scream. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her blood beginning to stain her back as the metal did its job in taking chunks out of her back. Eventually, she was thrown back into the small dark room, her hands bound.

Ashley woke with a jump, soaked in sweat, shaking, and breathing hard. The ticking of the clock seemed so loud. At 5 am, she was trying to calm herself down. The shaking began to subside, breathing calmed. She was back in Virginia, hiding out in her apartment, staring at the ceiling, her neighbors arguing again, something smashing against the wall. She kept replaying everything, she got Trent’s email, but she never opened it, too scared to see the ‘Don’t contact me again’ in the main body.

The notification there on her phone and laptop haunted her, beeping every so often to say she had something unread in her inbox. Sighing, she swung her legs off the couch, getting up, looking about the table, beer cans lying around. That made more sense. It has been two months since the email. Nightmares plagued her, but she was clear for deploying again; the next place would be the Philippines, on base, helping training, nothing too serious.

It took time for her to get ready. She was still stiff, pulling her shirt off the mirror, catching a reflection of the scars littering her back, still healing, slowly, eventually, she got washed, wrapped fresh bandages around herself then dressed in her civvies, grabbing her baseball cap, glaring at herself in the mirror. Her lip was stitched, that picture stuck in the corner of her brother and her, before she went off for her first deployment, quickly turning and grabbing her keys then leaving, door slamming behind her.

Food shopping for the next few days...no coffee, coffee first. She had returned yesterday, finally clear to fly home correctly, so didn’t have any food in the apartment, part of deploying, get rid of food that would spoil, she never saw the point of even buying any personal items, the place came with a sofa and bed anyway, along with a TV, all she needed to do pay the bills and rent and buy food.

“You know what, Trent, Fuck you! All you see is what she wants you to!”

“Ashley, you are out of line.”

“I thought you learned from the first one! Look what happened! Every single time I try to get to know them! They pull this shit!”

“Ashley C Sawyer! Enough!”

“No! You always believe what they feed you! Just like the first one, this one is spinning lies!”

“Are you shitting me? Watch where you are going, asshole!” Ashley snapped, eyes narrowed at the man who walked into her.

“What did you say bitch” he snarled.

“You hard of hearing or what?” Ashley countered, squaring up to the taller man, not in the mood to deal with anyone.

The man huffed and walked away, grumbling about psychopaths.

“Don’t even bother contacting me until you learn to grow up!”

“Oh, come on! You're gonna support her?! After what she just said?”

“Get the hell out of my life.”

“I’d rather die than be in your life, Trent. Good to know my brother doesn't even have my back!”

“Get the hell out!”

Pushing the door open to a small coffee shop, walking over to the counter, the Barista smiling and greeting her. “What can I get you?” the woman asked.

Ashley sighed “large, strong coffee with cream,” she said, getting her wallet out of her coat pocket, handing the money over. “Keep the change for whoever does not have enough to get something,” she stated; it was usual for her to say this as she took the to-go cup and left.

Phone beeping again, that unread email haunting her still and walking along the street thinking about what she needed to get. It was quiet. She was glad; no one was around this early in the morning. She could hear footsteps behind her. She went on full alert, moving to the side to let the person go.

As they ran by, she heard “Thanks!” being called back to her.

“Yeah, no problem,” she muttered, never looking up. Moving to continue to where she was going to go, she didn’t know where but walking around aimlessly customarily worked.

“Sawyer, you good?”

“I’m fine, Cole.”

“He responded, are you going to open it?”

“Knowing him, he’d respond to tell me how much Bullshit I spouted and to keep away from him.”

“You don't know that. People change.”

“Cole, keep out of this”

“You can’t avoid it forever. Better to open it at some point.”

“Better to ignore it than being crushed, Gunny.”

She walked down the street, hearing a couple up ahead, someone complaining about night shifts, the man chuckling, she couldn’t make out what he said, but again she stepped to the side, allowing them to go past.

What she did not expect to hear was the woman to speak up and say, “Ash?” her stomach dropped, head hung low, she couldn’t do this, trying to focus on not shaking, trying to hide her face. It was too early for this.

“Ashley,” that was Trent, now she needed to get out of there.

Why of all the days did it need to be the one morning she was dealing with her things?

“You look like hell,” Amelia said. “Are you okay?” she asked, and Ashley snorted. Was she okay? Three months in hell, now seeing the people she was trying to avoid for the majority of her life? No, she wasn’t okay. She was in a literal nightmare.

“Fine, just tryna get to the base,” Ashley lied with ease, glancing at the two. Trent still was not saying anything; he kept his expression neutral. He was trying to think what to say. He hadn’t received a response. He could see the way she held herself; he knows pain; he knows that haunted look she has all too well.

“Sorry, I ugh, gotta meet Cole for target practice,” Ashley mumbled, moving around them quickly. She needed to make sure she got away from them. Her chest was tight, her head hurt. She stumbled around a corner, making her way to a bench and sitting down, setting the coffee on the ground and leaning forward, head going between her knees, trying to calm herself down.

Trent had walked Amelia back to her apartment, with her telling him to talk to her and something was off. He agreed with her, not wanting to argue, memories of their previous fight still in his mind. He did not want to be on Amelia's wrong side again.

He walked back towards where they had seen Ash and then proceeded towards the way she had taken off. Glancing at the time, 6:30 am, which meant it would still be quiet. Walking the quiet streets, it wasn’t long before he located her. It was clear she had just got herself down from a panic attack, so he didn’t want to spook her.

“Ashley,” he called out. If she had reacted any quicker, she would have got whiplash.

“You good?” He asked, walking over. Ashley could be what many described as a deer caught in headlights. “Mind if I sit?”

Ashley shrugged, trying not to react. This is the one thing she wanted to avoid, looking ahead as Trent sat beside her. “Didn’t read it, did you?” he asked quietly, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward slightly.

“Didn’t have to, knew what it would say,” she whispered back.

“What would that be?”

“To keep away from you, people you know, and your life.”

He supposed he deserved that response; the argument was ugly. When things came to light about what happened, a year later, when wife 2 wanted a divorce, it was too late to repair anything.

“Ash, it never said that,” he says, looking out across the park. “You were one of them... one of the Marines captive?” he says, not getting a response. “Whole base heard about it; no names are given out to anyone not in the Marines. I was deployed at the time. Our base was chaos. The Marines on base were talking, whispering about what happened,” he sighs, “I expected to hear on the news you were dead,” he said calmly.

“That makes your life easier?” Ashley says, voice going cold, fist-clenching on her lap.

“No.” he sighed. “Would make life a lot harder. I got back from a spin up, lost a brother, then a few days later, you emailed. All I could think was that it was a joke, realized it wasn't. Amelia and I argued about it.”

“Why are you here?” She snaps; looking at him, he could see the extent of damage to her face. Her black eye is still healing from having her nose broken and set correctly, along with stitches and minor cuts littering her face.

“To make sure my baby sister is okay. If you had read the email, you would have seen me offering to meet you at the airport, along with wanting to help with your recovery-”

“I don’t need your help; done fine without it.”

Trent stood up, Ashley mentally preparing herself to walk away again, only for him to kneel in front of her. “What happened in the past happened, okay? We both said things we regret. I'm here now to help, and I can guarantee that Ames will help out as well,” he said, watching her reaction. “Got time for coffee, and I can wrap those wounds properly.”

Of course, he’d notice when someone hadn’t correctly changed dressings or wrapped their wounds properly. He deals with Bravo and them not treating injuries properly daily, so it was easy to spot. He was grateful it was warmer than it had been the past few days, so being outside for this long, he didn’t mind.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” Ashley muttered, pulling her sleeves down. “Look, I’m not...I ain’t expecting you to play big brother Trent, or give a damn,” she muttered, tugging her cap down to try and hide her face more. She was not in the mood to be poked, prodded, or questioned.

“I don't need to play it when it's my job.” he states with a frown, “Come on, get up,” he said, carefully getting her up. “You look like shit. Have you been sleeping?”

“This is just my face, Trent.”

“You look exhausted. You’ll come back to mine. I can check those wounds, then you can grab some sleep after you take painkillers,” He said, frowning.

“Hell no, you aren't!” Ashley stated, her eyes going wide. “Not happening at all! No way,” she said, not moving from her spot. Shaking her head, she did not want anyone near the wounds on her back. She would keep those as quiet as she could. The look she was getting from her brother was telling her she would need to give him an answer as to why.

“Look, I just want to go to the range, go home, sleep, and get ready for a deployment in a few weeks, that's it,” she says, binning the cold coffee.

“Do you want to talk about what happened, Ash?” The SEAL asked, worried that she would end up worse if she shut down more than she already was. He finally got her moving, leading her to his truck.

“No, I don’t want to talk about it, not with you,” she states. “I got a shrink,” she lied. It was easier than saying, ‘oh yeah, goes from being tortured to you laughing at what happens at me.’

Ashley fell into a light sleep 5 minutes into the drive.

The water was dripping on the ground; she’s lying on her side staring at the door. She's tired of fighting. She wants to sleep, but when she sleeps, bad things happen. The metal door opened, men entering with weapons, another one entering and hauling her up, dragging her out.

Arms being hauled up over her head, the restraints being hooked onto the metal hook hanging from the ceiling.

“Shall we do this again” the man smiled. 2 months, 25 days, this had been going on. She’d begun learning to keep track of how many times she would be left alone, along with how the temperature dropped in the evening and warmer during mornings.

“Who are you?”

She was tired, mumbling “Marine Staff Sergeant Sawyer” everything was blurry. The dim light seemed brighter than anything she had seen. Her senses were being overloaded with different things: light, sound, the smell of decaying flesh.

“Very good,” the man smirked, looking at the tools on the table. “Why are your people in my country?” he asks, smacking her when she didn’t answer. “I asked you a question!”

“Dunno,” she muttered “why are we anywhere” she slurred, fighting to keep awake. Her body needed the rest to recover; she caught a glimpse of one of the rookies being dragged in, a gun being held to his head.

“Shall we try that again?” the man asked, the rookie pleading for his life, but when she didn’t, the gun went off, and the young man fell forward, blood beginning to form a puddle, lifeless eyes staring at her.

She ended up back in that small room. The dripping, she focused on that, zoning out, the screams of her teammates fading into the background.

Ashley woke with a jump as Trent turned off the engine. Running a hand over her face, she cleared her throat. Trent chose not to comment on it; he’s seen friends, brothers who suffered from sleepless nights, hell he had them himself, so he knew what it was like.

He still wished she had spoken to him before signing up. He couldn’t figure out why she would even want to join the Navy after seeing the type of injuries that could be sustained.

They remained quiet, Trent helping his sister inside, telling her to sit on the couch. She did so, the haunted look back in place. He was concerned about that. He wasn’t sure exactly what went down, but the stories circling base were all the same: unit ambushed, multiple dead, three alive. He moved to his office, walking to the shelf where he kept his kit then returning out. “Easier to get this over with, kid,” he states, surprised that she removed her jacket without a fight. “So, you spoke to Amelia a few months back. What do..you think of her?”

“Don't matter what I think.”

“Sure it does. You’re normally asking a bunch of questions that I can’t get you to shut up about.”

“That was past me; new me don't give two shits, head down don't ask questions.”

He was not expecting that response. Quite frankly, he wasn’t expecting her to be so shut down. Starting on her upper arms, he frowned, noticing the burns.

“Electrical?” he asked; at her nod, he just knew it was going to be worse.

“They don't like the ones who fight back, Clarkes got off light: a broken arm, a few broken ribs, was running a fever. Cole had about the same as me, just a bit better. I kept fighting: not giving information, get told not to. In the end, I was just tired.”

Trent made a mental note to speak to Amelia to see if she could spend a few hours with her; get to know Ashley better, see if she would open up more about what happened. “Nightmares keep you awake? It’s normal, you know, you can ask your doctor for some sedatives to get some sleep.”

“Allergic,” Ashley muttered, “Learnt that one the hard way after being sprung from the confines of hell.” She made a hissing noise, “Ow! Take it easy,” she snapped, jerking her arm away

“You haven’t been cleaning these, have you?”

“Medics on base did before we were sent home here,” she grumbled, glaring at the swabs he was using, and whatever the stuff was that was burning the wound, the last person to use that stuff got a broken nose as a reward.

“Stop being a baby.”

“Or what? Going to tell me to leave and not come back until I grow up?” she grumbled.

Trent stopped and looked up. “That was a low blow kid,” he said but left it; she was in pain. He was 100% sure he would call Amelia after she got a few hours of sleep to come over and help out with this situation.

The dripping of the kitchen tap is all Ashley could focus on.

‘He doesn’t hate you, you do know that, right? He told me stories about how you two were when he was still at home. You should reach out to him.’

That's all Ashley could think about from her conversation with Amelia. She frowned, the last person to probably ever see her alive; she should have listened, should have reached out to her brother; this could be her last moment alive, and she’d die without getting the chance to say sorry. To let him know she didn’t mean what she said.

As if on cue, the door opened: dragged out, chained, hung, beaten. This time they left her hanging there.

“He told me he worries he’s going to see your name in the obituaries one day, that he won’t be called when you die. You think if he hates your guts, he would be worried for you?” there was Amelia's voice in her head again, her mind creating an image of the woman leaning against the wall watching her as she spoke. It was like she wasn’t allowed to die in peace; what was so wrong with that?

Her arms and shoulders were killing her. They trick you into believing you have people who care, keep you fed and hydrated. They did it to Clarkes and Craig, who submitted to their tricks, thinking the men who offered the food were kinder people, but they weren't; they had given their names to them. Their beatings had stopped, but Ashley didn’t fall for their tricks. She’d heard enough about it, questioned SEALs who were on the base during her first few deployments about what not to do. She wasn’t going to let them break her, sure she gave up her rank and second name, but that's all they would get.

One man came back in. This person was different, new; she had never seen him before, he never spoke. His specialty was using a cattle prod in open wounds, making her scream out in agony.

“Ashley, I need you to focus on me.”

Looking around, she couldn’t find the voice.

“Ashley, you’re ok. Just focus on my voice. It’s safe.”

Trent.

Blinking, looking confused, “You with me?” she heard Trent ask. He was sitting on her right side now, dealing with the dressings there. She could see the concern in his eyes. She kept silent for a while, not wanting to talk about anything, just happy to be in her brother's presence without a fight hanging over them. She wasn’t sure how long it would last.

“I called Amelia. She’ll be by in a few hours. Want to tell me where your mind went?” he asked, finishing her right arm. “Need to look at your torso to see what needs to be done,” he calmly explained.

“I was back there,” she whispered, “I don’t like being there, but I always end up there, or the argument,” She states, not moving at all. “I don't want you seeing Trent. Base Docs can deal with it,” she mumbled, looking away from him.

“I have dealt with all types of injuries, Kid.” He sighs, watching her. This was the reason he never wanted her signing up. “I'm not going to judge,” was all he said, but Ashley shook her head. This was one thing she was determined to hide. Trent decided to leave it for now. “You still take your coffee with a shit load of sugar?” he asked.

“Strong with Cream, no sugar,” Ashley muttered. “I'm just gonna call a cab head to base.”

“No, you aren’t. You’re going to sit there or lay down and get some rest. When Amelia arrives, you let her check those wounds you won’t show me,” he stated. Removing the medical gloves and throwing them in the bin, he headed to the sink in the kitchen to wash his hands. “You know which people got you out?” he asks, putting the used medical supplies in the trash along with open packets.

“Marine Unit with a SEAL Team...Alpha think Gunny said,” Ashley was blinking to stay awake. Trent just sighed.

“Kid, get some rest. We’ll talk about everything once you can keep your eyes open.” He walked back over, getting her to lay down. He shook his head at the fact she had pretty much passed out, then unfolded the blanket at the back of the couch and placed it over her. He would talk about everything, though right now, he’d need Amelia's advice on it all.

#Seal Team #Trent Sawyer #OC: Ashley Sawyer #tw: blood #tw: injury #tw: torture #tw: hints of arguments #tw: swearing #tw: nightmares #Sawyer Siblings #B4writes #ao3 series

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livesincerely · 4 years ago

Note

dude you should totally write a fic off run away w me if you like haven’t alr 👀👀

DARLING.

You know me. You know what I’m like. You know you can’t just drop amazing ideas like this in my inbox and expect me to leave them alone until I actually have time to do something with them... 😫😫😫

So.

Background: Davey makes it through his SAT, then exits the building, throws up, and passes out in the parking lot, which isn’t the first indication that something’s wrong but it’s the beginning of the end for how much Jack’s willing to let him get away with it. He’s been a nervous wreck for months, not sleeping and not eating, anxious and irritable and so obviously neglecting his health that it makes Jack wanna scream. No one else seems to see it—Davey’s not a great liar but he’s excellent at deflecting, though that’s never stopped Jack from seeing right through him. Davey manages to hobble his way through the fall semester, keeping his grades up and finishing all his college applications through sheer force of will. His parents are so proud of him, he’s set to be valedictorian and he’s expecting to get several college acceptance letters, and he’s so worried about not doing anything to disappoint them. He and Jack get into several arguments about this that never come to anything except teary, biting stalemates.

Until finally, Davey gets his college acceptance letters. The envelopes come over the course of several weeks and he can’t hardly stand to look at them. Full rides to NYU, Colombia, UCLA, and several other amazing schools. Davey gets halfway through opening the first envelope, hands shaking so bad he can barely hold onto it, before he’s running to throw up. He realizes, suddenly, that unless something gives, he’s looking at another 4+ years of this: of working himself into the ground and being miserable, of never feeling like his wants are valid enough, of always competing and working and grinding, against others sure, but mostly against this imaginary, perfect, unattainable version of himself, of always living the life his parents want him to lead, and he can’t hardly stand it. He can’t imagine going to college. He can’t imagine not going to college.

We open on him calling Jack, crying and freaking out. Because he doesn’t know what to do and he just needs someone to be in his corner and advocate for him, because at this point Davey’s not even sure if Davey’s in his own corner. Jack opens all the envelopes and he doesn’t tell Davey what they say, doesn’t confirm if any/all of them are acceptance letters or anything, just reads through them expressionless. Then he closes them back up, tucks them into the inner pocket on his jacket, and says, “Davey... run away with me.”

“What?” Davey whispers.

“Run away with me, Dave,” Jack says. “Let me take you away from all’a this. We’ll hit the road, drive ‘til the pavement ends, ‘til we’re far away from all these expectations and standards and supposed to’s. Because it’s crushing you. It’s making you fucking miserable, and if distance is what you need to find steady ground and make a choice for your own sake, that’s actually about you and what you want? Then I’m your ticket outta town.”

“Jackie...” Davey says, utterly floored. His heart is beating wildly in his chest, stuttering with something like anticipation and fear and terrible, terrible longing. “Jackie, we can’t.”

“And why can’t we?”

“Because,” Davey insists, because one of them has to be reasonable. “Because, we can’t just pack up and leave. It’s the middle of the semester, we’ve got another three months of school left, we need to graduate, and fuck, can you even imagine the fallout? My parents would kill me, just hunt me down and murder me if I left.”

“I’m still not hearin’ any reasons not to,” Jack says, and he keeps looking at Davey with those warm, steady eyes.

“I just told you—“ Davey starts.

“No,” Jack calmly interrupts. “You gave me a bunch of excuses for not going, not reasons. There’s a difference. I’m waitin’ for something more along the lines of ‘my stupidly long legs make roadtrips super uncomfortable’ or ‘our friendship won’t survive us traveling together for weeks in close quarters’ or ‘I wouldn’t trust your rusted old Chevy to take us to the state line, let alone across the country,’ or even just ‘Jack, I don’t want to.’”

Davey’s mouth closes with a soft click, swallowing heavily around a sudden lump in his throat.

Jack keeps looking at him, and the intensity of his gaze is almost to much to handle, simmering with something quiet but fierce.

“I’m not gonna stand by and watch you kill yourself over a life that you don’t even want. Not anymore. Not when it makes you call me at one in the morning, sounding like the weight of the fucking world’s on your shoulders and you’re terrified to set it down. Not after seven months of watching you waste away right in front of me, moving around like a goddamn shadow, pale as a ghost and hollow inside. Not unless you can look me in the eye right now and tell me that college is gonna make you happy.”

Davey can’t speak. Something’s gone taut in his chest, like a piano wire about to snap. Davey could prevent it. He’s not sure if he wants to.

Jack steps closer and takes both of Davey’s hands in his own. His palms are warm, or maybe it’s just that Davey’s freezing, has been so painfully cold and lonely these past few months, withering away in the shadow of his parent’s expectations. But the tangle of their fingers threading together is like a balm on Davey’s soul—the spark that reignites the embers of a dying fire.

He’s so tired of being cold.

“I just want to know that you’ll be happy,” Jack says after a moment—softly, like he’s afraid he might shatter Davey if he speaks any louder, sending the broken shards of him scattering into nothingness. Davey’s not sure he’s wrong. “And I know you, David, and this isn’t making you happy.”

“This is crazy,” Davey breathes out, and it’s not what he means to say but it comes out regardless. “It’s... Jack, this is insanity.”

“Who cares about what’s sane?” Jack says. “Fuck sanity.”

“Jackie.”

“Tell me you’re happy,” Jack says, and the gentleness of the command doesn’t make it any less compelling. “Tell me you’re happy, that you think you’ll be happy with all this, and I’ll drop it. I’ll drop it right this second, I swear.”

Davey’s eyes slip shut. He breathes in and breathes out, feeling his ribs press against that band in his chest, the last threads of it holding fast.

“Please, Dave,” Jack murmurs. “Please.”

In and out. In and out.

And the wire snaps.

“Okay,” Davey says, fingers tightening around Jack’s, his lone anchor as the world tilts out from underneath him. “Okay.”

“You’ll—?”

“Let me pack a bag,” Davey agrees.

Cue road trip shenanigans. The only people that they tell before they leave are Medda, Crutchie, and Les. Both boys have some money saved up from their part-time jobs but Medda gives them a credit card to use on the trip and helps them get things set up to finish out their last couple months of school through online/remote methods. Even still, it’s a lot of frugal, simple, happy living on the road. They drive without any goals or expectations, taking in the sights and the beauty of the countryside, sleeping in Jack’s car and in various motels.

Davey starts to get better. Just, the freedom of getting to make choices for himself and dropping some of the stressors in his life. His parents are angry, then confused, then worried, then begrudgingly accepting, then actually accepting. Medda helps mediate back home, and they eventually realize that they’ve been suffocating their son. Davey makes no promises about coming home or continuing on with college.

At some point, Davey realizes that he’s in love with Jack and has been for a while. He’s not sure what to do about this, or even if he should do anything about it. Because Jack is wonderful, he’s the best friend he’s ever had, the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and the thought of anything jeopardizing that makes Davey’s heart hurt. Until, one night they’re out somewhere in the desert, staring up at the stars from the roof of Jack’s car. Davey’s been telling stories about all the different constellations, pointing out each one as he goes, and he turns to look at Jack only to find that Jack is already staring at him, and the look on Jack’s face is just....

“Oh,” Davey says, and he’d always imagined that a realization like this would hit like a bolt of lightning. Instead it’s like sinking into a warm bath at the end of a long day. “You’re in love with me.”

Jack blinks at him, then lets out a soft chuckle, easy as anything. “Just now realizing that, are we?”

Davey stares.

“You didn’t say anything,” he points out, perhaps needlessly.

“I wasn’t exactly hiding it,” Jack responds, tilting his head back towards the stars. “And ‘sides, you weren’t ready to hear it.”

A length of silence stretches between them, not uncomfortable but more charged than it had been.

Eventually Davey says, “What if I am?”

“What do ya mean?” Jack asks.

“What if I’m ready to hear it, now?”

Jack turns towards him, and for the first time some of the relaxation slips from his posture, his spine straightening from it’s casual slump into something more active, more engaged, ready to pursue.

“S’that so?” he rumbles.

“Yeah,” Davey says, wetting his lips. “That’s so.”

Something something, getting together, romantic moments on the hood of/in the backseat of Jack’s car, something something ending.

The whole thing would be very dramatic and romantic, but ultimately about how home and freedom can be in the safety of another person, just like the song. Tada, I guess? 😅😅

Working title, “we’ll be on the road like some country song”

00000

@bound-for-santa-fe

#newsies #jack kelly #davey jacobs #javid #*ask #*the writing desk #*editor's note #ideas for later #run away with me fic #I realllllllyyyyy did not need this prompt in my life right now so I hope you’re happy lol #look what you did #this was just a stream of consciousness dump so please excuse any typos #🤗😅🤗😅

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redhawtriot · 5 years ago

Text

Baby Boom (Bakugou x Reader)

Sooo... I think It’s the size of my tag list that was fucking this chapter up so much! Every time I have more than my previous chapter had, this chapter deletes itself from my page/drafts! I’ve contacted Tumblr about it, but don’t cross ur finger’s on that one lol. I am sorry if you weren't able to make the list!

(If you beta read for me you could read the chapters up to an entire day ahead of every else tho! If ur interested in that, just inbox me!)

HnM

Tip Jar ☕- Not expected but always appreciated💞

Month 1, Month 2 , Month 3,

--Month 4--

‘SLAM!’

The front door crashed shut like ammunition through cannon fire. The sharp bang clapped and echoed throughout the small, otherwise quiet living space, and soon, three roommates filed out of their respective rooms. One by one, they inched out to get a glimpse of the oncoming storm: Hurricane Katsuki.

Denki warily removed his gaming headpiece as Bakugou whipped past his bedroom door, “Oh hey, Bakugou! You sure disappeared outta nowhere. We coulda used the backup in squads! Where’d ya go, man!?”

The others listened carefully for the explosive blond’s answer, but got nothing short of an insult in return,

“None of your business, you damn idiots. GO DIE ALREADY!” and with that, Hurricane Katsuki simply slammed the door shut-- somehow even louder than before.

Kaminari, who had gotten the brunt of the explosion, was left wide eyed,

“Woah…”

Sero gave a low whistle as he shook his head at Bakugou’s shut door, “Looks like a wild Teenage Bakugou has entered the chat.”

Denki gave an abrupt, slightly uncomfortable chuckle at the remark, but soon gulped, giving his roommates a concerned gaze, “So… should we…” he trailed off.

Kirishima fervently nodded, stepping fully out into the hallway, “I’ll go check on him, guys.” He flexed before making his way to Bakugou’s room—a nervous habit he had picked up somewhere along the line to reassure himself before he dived headfirst into rough situations.

He looked back to his other two roommates one last time and threw a pleading glance as if to say “Wish me all of the luck” before giving a few slight knocks to the rage-secreting room, “Bakugou,” he called out, “You okay, buddy? I know that there is something up. There’s no point in hiding it…we can talk?”

No answer.

Kirishima gave a long sigh, “Well, when you finally want to talk about it, you know where to find me...”

The other roommates sighed as well before both retreating to their rooms and shutting their doors. Kiri turned to make his way back to his room as well, but only made it a few feet before Bakugou’s door sharply yanked open a few inches.

“Where are those other idiots?” Bakugou’s eyes were redder than their usual vermilion as he glared out from the cracked doorway. Kirishima gave a thick blink in surprise. Had he… had he been crying?

“They back in their rooms?” Bakugou said very lowly. His voice had an extra hint of raspiness weighing it down, Kirishima noticed.

“Y-Yeah.” Eijirou quickly replied, startled by the unseemly sight of his best friend, “They’re prolly back on the game by now.” Bakugou did not say another word as he threw his door open a few more inches and marched deeper into his room to stiffly throw himself on the edge of his bed. Kirishima cautiously followed him-- this was as good of an invitation as any in ‘Bakugou language.’

Bakugou sat, glaring seriously at the floor in front of him, as if it offended him, and his leg bounced nervously. The red head uncomfortably cleared his throat. ‘Holy shit, what the hell is going on…?’ Kirishima had never seen him do that before, “You.. uh.. you wanna talk about it, buddy?”

No answer.

Kirishima waited a few beats before releasing another sigh and shutting the door behind him so that he could make his way to the bed. He sat down next to his best friend and simply sat deep in the silence with him. The two waited for what seemed like hours before someone finally spoke up,

“I got a girl pregnant,” Bakugou said very flatly, still glaring at the floor and bouncing his leg.

Kirshima had to stifle the choke that erupted out of his throat as his own saliva sneaked into his larynx, “Ack! Achkaka!” His natural bodily functions were completely forgotten as his brain tried to compute the sudden and drastic information that was just thrown at him.

Bakugou?? Pregnant? He never thought he would hear the words in the same room, let alone the same sentence! The guy hardly ever did anything but work, work out and come home to play video games. He didn’t converse with people. He didn’t get girls pregnant. Girls didn’t even look at him!

In his coughing fit, Kirishima’s speech was also forgone, “I-I- uh.. man that.. wow I…” he tripped and tumbled over his words. He was dreaming. He had to be. Well, either that or he had wandered into some strange episode of the Twilight Zone or something.

Bakugou’s glare at the floor intensified, “I thought she might not be so bad… but I didn’t want to be with her like this,” Kirishima’s eyes widened at the underlying tone of hurt buried under his friend's words, and then they widened even further once he realized what he just said.

Had Bakugou fallen for someone for the first time?? And then his eyes widened the furthest as things finally began to click within his confused mind.

He sucked into a sharp gasp, “You mean that model!?”

Bakugou simply scoffed, finally relieving his glare form the ground and focusing his hot gaze on Kirishima, “Yeah, turns out she’s actually a fucking bitch.”

Kirishima’s jaw dropped, “BAKUGOU! That’s the mother of your child! You shouldn’t—”

“She didn’t remember the night at all. I was just another fuck toy for her,” Bakugou stood up and clenched his fists over and over again as if they itched to be slammed against something—tears welling up in his red-hot eyes, “Now tell me if the roles were reversed, how shitty it’d be then, huh?” Kirishima immediately shut his mouth from speaking up anymore as he allowed his friend to release his feelings. It wasn’t often that Bakugou built up enough to let things out this way.

Bakugou scoffed again as he began pacing the room, but Kirishima swore that it had the hint of a cry layered within it somewhere, “they might not even be mine since she likes that ‘fuck toy shit’ so much. That night meant nothing to her…” he threw his arm against the wall, effectively tearing a hole into it

Kirishima jumped a bit from the action as his mind briefly wandered to the security deposit on their lease. He pushed these thoughts away as Bakugou stiffly returned to the bed, his leg bouncing even more fervently than before.

Kirishima simply watched for a moment to allow his friend to simmer down before he spoke up very softly, “But you think it is yours though…”

Bakugou’s eyes snapped up to Kirishima’s, whose eyebrows were furrowed deeply into each other as he stared back.

In all his years of knowing Katsuki Bakugou, Kirishima would have never described his best friend with anything even resembling ‘gullible.’ His gut feeling and instinct were as sharp as ever and hardly ever wrong,

“Must be for a reason then…” he tried to look past the tears that filled up within his best friends eyes but they still left his heart feeling a little heavier than usual, “If you think it’s yours then I’ll have your back no matter what buddy. You’re not alone in this.”

“They.”

“What…” Kirishima eyebrows folded toward the center of his expression.

“She’s having fucking twins.”

“Holy Sh…” Kirishima quickly swallowed his words as he took in the forlorn expression plastered onto his friend’s face. There was no room for him to be shocked right now. He had to be Bakuous ‘rock’ so to speak, “I-I mean congratulations!”

Meanwhile you found yourself studying the woman in the reflection of your mirror. Your eyes trailed every detail of her swollen, red eyes. Then to her hair that was fuller than you had remembered—the beauty of bottled color maybe? You danced over the way that loose strands stuck to the slimy mess of tears and mucosa that had accumulated on your cheeks.

Nasty.

A sharp chuckle came out of you, spittle following not too shortly after, but as it reached your ears it resembled more of a cry.

Okay, that’s enough self loathing for one lifetime.

And with that, you moved away from the mirror; however, as you did so, your sight basically smacked the open cabinet of liquor bottles that you were eyeing earlier.

Okay…. Maybe not quite enough self loathing. Your mouth began watering at the delectable sight. It was a desert after a delicious four course meal. There was always room for more…

With a shake of your head, you brought your hand up to smack these thoughts out of your mind. What was wrong with you? You had been a lot of things in life, but were you really so low to bring yourself to effectively murdering your own children?

That’s what would happen if you drank, right?

You loudly groaned as more tears slipped from your eyes. You really didn’t know shit when it came to this pregnancy thing.

Your mind briefly wondered to Baby Notes Vol 1. You should probably take the time to actually read through it a little. Skimming it wouldn’t kill you.

Physically.

The sudden pounding at your door snapped you almost immediately out of your thoughts.

“Y/N?? Y/N, it’s me!”

With a final pathetic sigh you found yourself gathering up all the alcohol from the cabinets that you could into your arms and placing them in the bathtub before jotting over to the door.

As soon as you opened it Deku barged in and gripped you softly, “I came as soon as you called! What’s up, what's wrong?! Are you okay??” His eyes frantically danced around your wet eyes and red sockets before he allowed them to roam all over you, checking for injury.

He wouldn’t ever think that Kacchan was the type of guy to put his hands on you, especially with how much he’s grown since high school, but the nagging voice in the back of Izuku’s mind fervently reminded him of all of the bruises and burns and numberless emotional scars he accumulated with he was quirkless from his childhood friend.

And here was a woman he deeply cared about-- quirkless—having to spend time alone with said childhood friend.

“What’s wrong??” Izuku found himself repeating as his hands mindlessly wiped the fluid from your cheeks. As soon as he committed the action, however, his face ran completely red and he quickly released you from his grip, so that he could get a grip of himself.

You didn’t notice his slip up, and if you did you sure as hell didn’t care at the moment. There were more pressing matters at hand. Two to be exact, “Twins,” you simply said to him as tears began flowing down your cheeks more furiously.

“Huh? Oh… Oh.” Izuku’s eyes went wide as your words sunk in. As soon as he threw you an obviously apologetic glance you threw yourself into his chest and sobbed throwing him a bit off guard as he barely caught you in his arms.

Izuku’s eyes nervously roamed around your home as if he were searching for the right thing to say to you, but as he made contact with an open pantry in your kitchen, his jaw dropped-- your alcohol pantry.

It was far less full than it had been the last time that he visited, “Y/N… What’s with the… have you been drinking?” he pulled you away from his chest and looked seriously into your eyes.

The sight honestly kind of scared you a little—like a 15-year-old being caught with their first beer-- that is, until you remembered that you were innocent as fuck, “No,” you gave a slight chuckle through your tears at the sudden surge of intimidation, “I need your help getting rid of it.”

You walked away from Izuku for a moment, leaving him confused and a bit wary of where this was going, until you returned with a hammer—leaving him even more concerned,

You were aiming for bad ass Harley Quinn vibes, but you were sure that with a dried trail of tears on your cheeks and the force smile splitting your face you came across like more of a psycho ass Harley Quinn. Furthermore, the look on Deku’s face screamed that you were correct (also it screamed ‘GET THIS GIRL IN A STRAIGHT JACKET!’).

“What are you gonna do with THAT?” Izuku squealed.

“I need to get my favorite bottles out of the house. Stat. and you're gonna help me.” At your words, Deku gave a gigantic sigh of relief, but still kept his eyes glued on the hammer in your hands. You noticed and shrugged a bit, “Smashing things is also really cathartic. I am sure you of all people can agree with that.”

“Heh… Yeah. But are you sure this is okay? I mean, I don't want to raise your blood pressure or anything because--”

“Deku. Less talk, more smash,” you threw a towel in your tub to make clean up a little easier, and so you didn't knock a chunk of tile on your bathtub. You gave Deku one last glance. He was still looking very uncertain, but you threw him a short smile before bringing the hammer down onto a bottle of tequila. The bottle instantly shattered, sending bits of glass throughout your tub. You looked up to give Deku an excited glance, and surprisingly, he returned one right back.

“See? Not so bad!”

But you spoke too soon as the scent kicked you in the fucking nose. It was too far to turn back now. You choked down your nausea and handed Deku the Hammer, “You go ahead and get started. I’ll go get another weapon-- I mean… tool,” you corrected yourself after he sent you a terrified stare.

As you made your way back to the after grabbing your second weapon-- I mean tool a sudden thought crossed your mind. Without hesitation, you pulled your phone out and dialed in,

“Hello?”

“Yes. How may I help you today?” Dr. Yamakawa sounded from the other line.

“It’s Y/N…Y/N L/N…” you trailed off, hoping that you wouldn't have to say the ‘p word’ or anything relating to it.

His old ass better take the hint. To your dismay, his old ass did not take the hint, and a long pause of awkward silence filled the air.

You pursed your lips together in annoyance, “Mama Bakugou,” you clarified through gritted teeth, still dancing around the fact that you were a maternity patient of his.

“Ohhhhh!” He exclaimed, causing your face to fall into an expression of disappointment as he continued, “What can I do for you, Mama Bakugou?!”

This mf. You internally ground and fought the urge to facepalm, “Well. I need you to write a doctors note for me.”

“For…?”

“Work?”

“For your pregnancy? Dear, why don’t you just take maternity leave for that?”

“No.” In the moment you shook your head even knowing that he couldn't see you, “I need a few weeks more before I can tell my job about this… situation. I’m a model. They own me through a contract and I didn't exactly add two roommates to the lease on my body...”

There was a pause on the other line, causing your heart to lurch a bit, but things soon went back to normal when he finally spoke up, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll email you something.”

You gave one final thanks (and an internal ‘yessss’) before making your way back to the bathroom, “Hey Deku, sorry it took me so long I was just--” you froze at the sight in front of you. The shirt that Izuku wore was completely drenched in liquid and your tub had a gigantic hole on the side.

Your lips fumbled over themselves as you gawked at the spectacle. Deku could only send you a nervous laugh,

“Uh, hahaaa… Can we be done now? This… this burns,” he rapidly blinked the liquid from his eyes as he glances back down to the lot of broken bottles in your tub before throwing your one more pleading glance.

You choked down a laugh, causing it to flee from you in the form of a snort, “Someone had some pent up aggression, huh?”

In response, his face delved into a deep shade of red, “I.. uh..” he had no idea how to answer you when you looked at him like that-- your lips curved into a stunning smirk of a smile. Izuku promptly cleared his throat, “C-can I take a shower?”

“Obviously not that one-- you're totally fixing that by the way Mr. Big Shot Hero,” with a laugh you swiftly made your way to him and carefully grabbed the hammer from his grasp, looking up to see his face dive even deeper into crismon. You flashed a smile at the display. He really was adorable as hell.

You took in his face bit by bit-- his soft, blushed skin, his freckles cheeks, his round eyes. As you digested his expression you swore you could see an entire forest within his stare. Suddenly your heart pinged.

“Uh, Y/N,” Izuku interrupted your thoughts, causing your heart to throb for a different reason as you suddenly realized the proximity of the two of you. You stepped back so fast that your head spun. At least, you hoped that was why your head was spinning,

“You can use my shower.” you said very abruptly as you turned away from him,gesturing him to follow you to your bedroom.

Your bedroom. Your hear throbbed once more. Deep down, you hoped that you were about to have a heart attack or something; however, something within you told you that that probably was not the case. You swallowed hard.

What the fuck was happening?

‘KNOCK kNOCK KNOCK’

The next morning you found yourself stirring awake to a loud succession of banging. Your eyes fluttered open for a moment only before they snapped back shut. The magnet drawing them together and you closer to sleep was much stronger than whatever noise was trying to wake you up, “Mhmfmfm…” you muttered as you rolled over on the couch and pulled the blanket over your head.

Izuku, however, was not one to ignore such an obvious noise and he found himself trudging off of the other sofa he slept on to answer whoever was banging on the door.

‘KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!’

“Coming!” the green haired man tiredly called out as he launched himself toward the front door and swung it open.

The astounded face on the other side of the entrance soon mirrored his own.

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed.

Bakugou’s shocked expression very quickly contorted into one of pure rage, “What the hell is going on here?!” He screamed causing you to jolt awake as you threw the blanket over your head. You found yourself fumbling up as Bakugou continued to scream pointed to Deku, “The fuck is he here for??”

You made your way over to the two men- one seemingly terrified, and the other obviously enraged. As your head began lifting from the daze of sleep, you crossed your arms and glared at Bakugou, “He spent the night helping me with something,” you shook your head, trying to free yourself from the oncoming headache, “Hey, better question: why are you here?”

Bakugou seemed to swallow his own tongue as his jaw clenched shut, “I wanted to… uh…” he glared at the ground as he tried to find his next words. Shit. why was this so fucking hard? He should have never listened to that Shitty Hair and come over here. Bakugou scoffed to himself before redirecting his stern gaze back toward you, “Come with me.”

You could only blink.

What kind of caveman talk…You tilted your head as you fleetingly threw a confused glance toward Deku, who only shrugged in response.

Bakugou quickly grew tired of yours and Dekus silent conversation, “You wanna hang out or not??” he growled before throwing another heated finger toward Deku, “And he can’t come.”

“I was just heading out anyways. It’s no big deal really!” Izuku defensively threw his hands up as if to show Bakugou that he was no threat at all. He went to gather a few of his belongings from the sofa he slept on before throwing Bakugou one more gaze-- this one a lot more astute.

A majority of Midoriya’s mind told him that there was nothing to worry about at all, but there was still a small section of him that couldn't shake the memories of how Bakugou treated him as a quirkless child. Izuku knew that he would never hurt you! But… just in case…

“You take care of her Kacchan,” the tone came off pleadingly but the look in his eyes was a bit stern. You had never seen this portion of Deku before and it almost instantly caused your chest to thud, harshly reminding you of last night’s sensations. Shit.

“Don't tell me what the fuck to do, Deku. Those are my kids in there. Not yours. You just remember that,” Bakugou scoffed, causing Izuku’s expression to falter ever so slightly before he fixed it again.

Your jaw dropped at the sheer bluntness of his statement, “Kacchan, what the f--”

“I guess you’re right, Kacchan,” Izuku began, “Sorry if I crossed a boundary,” he smiled at Bakugou-- who only huffed in return-- and quickly turned to you, making the tightness in your chest worse, “Bye, Y/N!” Izuku smiled, almost too innocently, considering the raging war in your gut at the moment.

You smiled back-- a feeble attempt at masking the inner turmoil ravaging your insides. “Peace, bb,” you gave him a weak hug before gesturing him out of your home. You threw him one final smile before shutting the door. You instantly whipped your head back around the the blonde brat behind you, “What. The. Fuck!?”

“I already told you. I want to hang out.”

“Are you fucking allergic to texting or some shit??” you yelled, “You just waltz in like you own the damn place and demand me to ‘Ohhh ahhh wo-man! come with me, wo-man’,” you renacthed his prehistoric behavior.

Bakugou felt his muscles tighten in response to your taunting. Your loud nature, mixed with the confrontational behavior was reminding him way too much of his own mother. He swore on his life that he would never end up with a woman like her and yet, here he was standing in front of her fucking carbon copy. The thought made him sick as he groaned in frustration,

“Shitty hair was fucking wrong!” Bakugou spat, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion as he continued, “The last thing I want to do is hang out with a bitching hag like you!!”

Your jaw dropped, “Excuse me??” You have heard pretty much every other insult in the book hurdled at you, but ‘hag’ was never one of them. You laughed, “I wasn’t a hag when you fucked me all night, huh?!”

“Yeah? I don't know what was wrong with me then. You are way different when I am not pumped full of alcohol, apparently.”

Your laughter immediately ceased, “Whatever. you came up to me and confessed your love like a raging SIMP, and now all of a sudden I’m a bitch?

“Fuck! Well, I got to know you past a pretty, stupid, fucking face!”

You blinked in shock. The unfamiliar feeling of your heart sinking into the pit of your stomach overwhelmed you as hurt surrounded your face. Practically your entire life, being beautiful has been a mask of sorts for your overwhelming failures. Still, here this man was-- practically a stranger-- seeing past your facade, looking directly into the steaming pile of shit that you truly were. Your eyes suddenly became warm as tears filled them,

“Then why the fuck are you even here, asshole?? TO PISS ME OFF?” you shouted, throwing your hands by your side and clenching them so tightly that your nails dug into your skin.

“BECAUSE I WANTED TO KNOW ALL OF YOU!” he screamed back. The shocking words fled out from under his harsh tone and stunned you as your brain processed them. You felt your fist unfurl a bit as he continued, “I wanted to know you. Good and bad. Bitchy and not. You're carrying my children… I want to know them,” he finished, almost defeated. This tell of emotion was obviously the last thing he wanted to be doing, you could tell.

Still, it meant a lot for some reason that he felt that he could do this with you “Oh,” you breath out, unable to articulate much else.

“Oh?!” he angrily repeated. Bakugou felt his face shrivel in disgust. He just poured out his being to you once more for you to trample on it like a fucking gymnast mat. However, as Bakugou formed his mouth to say something else, you halted him,

“Go… have a seat,” you gestured to the couch, blinking the accumulating liquid in your eyes away. The blond could only shoot a lone eyebrow up in response, causing you to sigh in exasperation, “Well, Are you just gonna stand there looking like that, or what?” he gave you one final scoff before making his way to one of your couches and seating himself comfortably, propping one of his feet on your coffee table as he glared at the non functioning television.

“Welcome, I guess. I am sure you’ll have no issue making yourself comfortable,” you deadpanned, eyeing his propped up legs, “I’ll go make us some… tea?” you suggested , but no answer came from him, “Tea it is.”

You rolled your eyes before trudging away. You always loved green tea, but for some reason the smell had been killing you lately, so you opted for peppermint tea instead. It was inferior by, far, but it matched the inferior, pathetic life that you had adopted recently.

Jeez. How much self deprecation can you fit into one week? Would this have any effect on the babies? If so, they’d probably come out singing RnB or some shit in the maternity ward. They’d have already stressed dyed hair and an entire Tumblr dedicated to sad aesthetics before they reached their first birthday, for god's sake.

You vehemently shook your head to once again get rid of the oncoming headache that snuck in with these disgusting thoughts, “So Kacchan!” you called out as you walked back to the living room, “What do you wanna know?”

“Don’t call me that,” he simply barked.

“What?”

“Don’t call me that name. I fucking hate it.”

You snorted and took a seat next to his glaring figure. You tried not to notice how he shifted further away from you as you sat down, “I am sure Deku disliked being called worthless his whole life too,” you smirked up at him, “I bet he fucking hated it.”

The atmosphere seemed to once more shift into a much heavier tone after your statement and the room fell quiet for a few beats. Bakugou’s small glare morphed into a much more forced one. It was as if he was trying to use the glare to hide another feeling, you noticed.

Finally, he spoke, “How much do you know.”

You tilted your head into another shrug, “Enough to know that you probably hate the fact that I am quirkless.”

His face contorted into one of pure disgust as the glareful mask he wore faded away like yesterday’s lunch. “I don’t give a fuck,” he argued, but the look you sent him showed no sign of believing it. Bakugou’s disgust deepened, but he made sure to control it enough to where you didn't know that it was directed towards himself.

“Oh really? Let’s see if you can keep that same energy when one of your kids pops out without that flashy quirk of yours,” Of course his face fell, just as you suspected it would. Just like it had for multiple other men you had told.

Most men’s pride utterly shrivels into dust as soon as the pretty girl in front of them-- the one that they fantasize about having a dream life with-- ends up telling them that they are quirkless. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth, the men's dreamy gaze effectively shatters alongside their hopes and dreams concerning you.

Nobody wants to pass weakness onto their children.

“You know what? I think I’ll go first,” you snapped him out of the uncomfortable, uncharacteristic silence, and he gave you an irritated, questioning glance, “You wanted to play 20 questions with me, or whatever. No limitations, okay? And I have the first question for you,” you explained before sending him a challenging gaze, “How could someone so full of hate truly aspire to be a hero?”

You expected him to blow up at you-- to scream, and yell and argue that you were wrong.

Yet.

The slightly apologetic, yet stern look on his face threw you for an absolute loop, “I wanted to win.” he simply answered. Somehow his matter of a factness was worse for you than any furious defensive scenario you had conjured in your mind, but as you went to open your mouth with a roll of your eyes, he halted you,

“That was when I was younger, “ he sharply clarified, “I wanted to win more than anything. To be better than everyone else—and that hasn’t changed but there's more to it now. I have to protect the people I care about—like my idiot roommates—I want to make sure we all come home safe by the end of the night.”

Once again he had thrown you off with a surprisingly normal non-caveman response, “That was actually…”

“My turn,” Bakugou abruptly cut you off, “How many men the you fuck this past few months?”

Your jaw dropped.

And back to Neanderthal you mother fucking guess! “Are you fucking kiddin—”

“You said no limitations,” he gruffly stated.

You bit your tongue and shot him a glare that could match his own before giving a sharp sigh, “Four during the last year. You were the last and the only one during the month I… conceived,” you swallowed as the word left a bitter taste in your mouth, “My turn. What about you?”

“What.”

“How many women the past year?”

“Why the hell does it matter?” Bakugou argued. Your eyes shot down to his body as it shifted around even further from you. From his body language you could tell that his answer was sure to be outrageously high.

He was an extremely attractive guy after all. Those rippling arms were nothing to fuck around with. His red hot eyes could melt steel beams with a passing glance. The chisel of his permanently hardened expression could slice through even the most secured of panties.

Yes. and there was no denying that he was a sex god in his own right.

It also didn't help that his temperament sucked, so you doubted he had had many long term relationships. He had all of the ingredients of a man whore stirring within him.

“I’m just curious,” you shrugged.

Bakugou threw his glare away from you for a moment as he contemplated on whether or not to answer your stupid question. He had his own questions to ask you still so he guessed that he didn't really have a choice if he wanted his answers,“...One.”

Your jaw dropped, “Seriously?” as his face fell into a furious shade of red you were smacked with a sudden realization,

“Kacchan, did you... lose your virginity to m...?” He glared even further away from you, but you could still see his ears falling even deeper into red-- effectively giving you your answer, “Oh my…” he trailed off. No wonder he was so fucking head over heels for you! Through your discomfort a horribly timed joke flew past your lips,

“You knocked her up on the first try huh? You’ve got some super swimmers,” you half laughed, but Bakugou obviously didn't find anything funny about it as he snarled angrily as you,

“Shut up!” he barked, throwing a pillow at you, “My turn. What’s up with you and that shitty Deku?”

The pillow hit you, but it was really his question that had smacked you in the face. Your chest thudded, and you prayed to whoever was listening that he couldn't see the racing of your heart, “He’s just a friend! A really good friend to me. Probably my first actual friend ever,” you said this as a joke, but obviously forgot who you were talking to.

“You didn’t make any in high school?” Bakugou’s face twisted up disbelievingly.

“Never went. Couldn’t afford the tuition...” now it was you who was uncomfortably shifting from him.

“Your parents didn’t help you out?”

“Slow down there, buckaroo,” you laughed, but his face remained as stern as ever as you continued, “That’s like three questions In a row for you. My turn.”

Luckily he caught the hint and didn't press upon the subject any further.

Through the night, you found out a lot of things about him. He was actually younger than you by a few years at twenty years old. His parents were both fashion designers (probably the biggest fucking shock to you considering his choice of black shirts and flannels) and that he was working on making his own hero agency since he had already climbed up the ranks in Japan.

Your game, however, was cut short by the growling of your stomach.

Bakugou almost immediately stood up, surprising you as he walked to your kitchen. Well, you did say ‘make yourself at home’ but this was a little upfront wasn't it? He soon yelled to you from the kitchen as you sat in shock still, “What do you have to eat in this shit hole?!”

Shit hole? You glance around at the decorations and clean atmosphere that you pride yourself on. That jerk. Your house was not a shit hole! “You can eat shit if you want. I’m not hungry.”

“The hell are you talking about? I just heard your stomach growling.”

You shrugged, “Just indigestion. I get a lot of stomach issues with these things inside of me,” the sudden clanging of pots and pan in your kitchen startled you, “What the hell are you doing??” you called out before marching to your kitchen.

You found him rummaging through your cabinets, stopping momentarily to judgmentally eye your still plentiful liquor cabinet for a moment before moving on, “You can starve yourself all you fucking want, but you're not fucking starving my kids.”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his accusation, “I’m not starving.”

“You think I’m fucking blind?”

“I have to stay in shape for work. Just like you I am sure,” you walked up to him and grabbed a bicep for demonstration, but he quickly threw your hand away from him as his face fell into a bout of shock. He quickly regained himself,

“Whatever,” he grunted before swinging open your refrigerator.

“What are y—Hey!” you yelped as he began haphazardly throwing food onto one of your counters.

“Is all you have in here rabbit food? Jesus fucking Christ,” he ignored your cries and began throwing certain items together and heating up a pot of water.

You couldn't help but blink at the display. He seemed pretty natural in the kitchen and that in itself was unnatural considering his caveman persona, “You... cook?” you felt uneasy.

“You don’t?”

Honestly, your diet consisted of salads and ramen since you were 15, so cooking wasn't a necessity. You reluctantly shook your head at him.

He looked completely disappointed and disgusted with you but, hey, what else is new? Bakugou scoffed, “Well you’re gonna have to learn how now. Pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes at him. If you wanted fucking Gordon Ramsey bitching you around in the kitchen you would have clicked on that stupid ad that always popped up on your Youtube. Then again, Bakugou was more of a Guy Fieri with that spiky hair of his.

Whatever.

You guessed learning how to cook one meal wouldn't be too terrible,

“What are you stirring the water for if you didn’t put anything in it yet?”

“It helps it heat up faster, idiot.”

“Do you actually throw the noodles on the wall to see if they’re finished?”

Bakugou threw you a frown, “If you’re a fucking dumbass,” he said, moving you aside as he began stirring a saucer filled with vegetables. He completely disregarded your yelp as he moved you as a parade of thoughts bombarded his mind.

He would have to come over more and keep you and his kids fed if you truly didn’t know how to cook. He scoffed and his stirring hand more slightly more erratically with frustration. What kind of grown woman didn't know how to cook pasta?

His thoughts were halted by a loud squelch that sounded through the air. He immediately threw his gaze up to the wall in front of his face and his expression fell at the sight. He growled, snapping his gaze back toward you by the pot of pasta, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” his furious glare danced between you and the wet noodle that stuck to the wall.

“I wanted to see if it would actually stick! Don’t get your balls in a twist, it was one noodle!”

“So damn wasteful,” Bakugou ground his teeth as he frustratedly scrapped the starchy pasta off of your wall. He opened his mouth to tell you just this, but immediately snapped it back shut as he felt something being thrown at his head, “that better not be what I think it is…” he snarled through his teeth as he eyed food dangling from one of the spines of his hair.

“Don’t worry, Kacchan. It’s not a worm,” you laughed, but your giddiness was soon cut off as a hot noodle was thrown back in your direction. You could only blink as it stuck itself on your nose.

“Hmph,” the corners of Bakugou’s lips slowly curled into a smirk, “It’s a good look on you, noodle face,” You laughed but once again was cut off. The brief sound of his laugh coinciding with your own shocked you.

His smile slowly died down as he caught wind of you gawking at him. He cleared his throat, “Are you done being a child? I’m ready to enjoy my good ass cooking.”

However, you didn't answer him as you once again found a smile creeping onto your face. He rolled his eyes and began making himself a plate of food, but he quickly grew tired of you smiling at him like some bimbo,

“What?!” He snapped, “You want another noodle to the face.”

You shook your head as you shuffled past him to serve yourself a plate, “No.. just you have a nice laugh.”

He scoffed, “That all you're eating?” he completely disregarded your comment but you decided to let it die too,

“I don’t see you with any food on your plate,” you shrugged, “I’d be more worried about yourself if I were you,” you winked at him before setting down at the table.

The night went pretty well after that. So well, in fact, that the two of you decided to have “parental meetings” every few days so that Bakugou could teach you how to cook. You ended up learning how to make 10 more dishes within the next three weeks.

Bakugou and you didn't exactly become close, but there were far less screaming matches than there had been in your first few meetings. You still didn't know him very well, but he wasn't necessarily a stranger anymore.

It was… nice.

The next check up came very quickly because of your lack of employment and your dates-- err um… “parental meetings” with Bakugou.

“Your twins should be about the size of avocados now! We’ll check again with a routine ultrasound. We do have the DNA tests in for you all so I’ll just go and run for those real quick.. well walk briskly. You don’t do an awful lot of running at my age.”

“I don’t do an awful lot of running now,” you joked, and Bakugou sent you a stern glare that screamed, ‘don’t encourage him.’ you shrugged as the doctor walked out of the room.

It was silent for what seemed like forever. You and Bakugou still weren't very good at sparking conversations, but eventually he spoke up as you laid back on the exam table, “You're really fucking showing now.”

You brows instantly came together, high fiving each other in your state of being roasted, “Thanks...” you deadpanned.

The look on your face sent a wave of hurt through the blond’s heart.

What the hell. It was like he felt your hurt. For the first time in a long time, Bakugou actually regretted his choice of words. He glared at the ground as he attempted to change the subject, “You’ve been eating, right?”

“How else Would I be sitting here, looking fat and talking to you, Kacchan.”

“I told you don’t call me that,” he paused, as if he were really considering his next statement, “Call me Katsuki,” he finally dragged out.

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, Kacchan.”

Just as Bakugou open his mouth the no doubt scream at you, Dr. Yamakawa entered the room,

“Mama Bakugou! We have some really good news. Everything seems fine with the twins according to the DNA testing. One is a little small right now, but it’s completely normal for there to be a dominant twin so to speak. No genetic abnormalities or health concerns,” you saw Bakgou visibly stiffen at this before relaxing as the doctor continued, “’Cept for you.”

You shook your head, blinking heavily as if you’d just been punched in the brow, “Me?”

“You do have a concerning BMI—you tend to lean a little towards underweight. I understand you are in the profession of modeling correct,” he said very, curtly, “You need to add more calories to your daily intake. You wont need to ‘eat for three” as they say, but you do need to put on some substantial pounds or you will risk a premature birth..”

You had no fucking idea what to say to that. ‘Nice?’ ‘Cool beans.’ ‘fucking just give me the mother of the year award already!’ You felt your chest tighten and suddenly you realized you hadn't been breathing. You sucked in abruptly, causing the doctor to take a step towards you,

“You're looking a little flushed there, Mama Bakugou.”

“Well how else is she supposed to respond when you tell her like that, old man?!” Bakugou snapped, causing both you and the doctor to gawk at him.

“Kacchan! What the fuck don’t talk to him like that, jerk!”

Bakugou scoffed, throwing his glare, much more pouty this time-- to the jar of cotton balls on the counter of the office.

“It wouldn't help either of you to sugar coat this, son,” the doctor sighed, “You have made it this far along in her pregnancy. Miscarriage is substantially less likely but if you want to give these babies a better chance, I’d suggest higher caloric intake.”

Needless to say, Bakugou did not leave the doctor's office that day a very pleasant man. He would angrily stalk ahead of you a for a few moments before pausing and grumbling about how ‘fucking slow’ you were as you caught up before the cycle would start all over again. You could only take this for so long, however,

“What!?” you yelled suddenly as the grumbling phase of his cycle began once more, “Will you stop fucking brooding already and speak your mind—”

He instantly snapped his face towards your own to stare into your eyes. You fumbled back a bit as the intense vermilion bore into you. You opened your mouth to speak but his serious expression exclaimed something before yours could,

“I wanna move in with you.”

You paused. You couldn't have fucking heard that right.

He… wants to...

“What…?” you mouthed.

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