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santigarcia · 4 years ago

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Kissing Kitten 😽

Human Touch Part Nine

word count: 1.6k

rating: M for smut, dirty talk, mentions of daddy kink, phone sex, sexual situations (pls don’t read unless ur 18+!)

summary: Nathan leaves for a business trip and you stay at home, but he finds ways to take care of you even when he’s gone.

a/n: thank you all so much for reading this series! let me know what yall think! thank you to @punkpascal and @sergeantkane as always!! and to @aellynera for yelling at me to post on time!! there’s only one more part after this! if you’ve read all these i really appreciate you!!

For the first time since the wedding, Nathan has left the compound. He has a business meeting with the board of Bluebook. He’s preparing to launch his latest tech. The smart home device he’s been working on, Etta. You’d have gone with him, but you wanted to let him work. He wanted your company, but he also knew he’d be working, and you’d spend a lot of time alone.

He texts you though, especially during the board meetings. Begging you for a nude selfie.

“Kitten, I already saw that one,” he’d text back. He wants you to take a new one. You play along, but that’s when you get an idea.

You send him a text: Sugar daddy wanted.

He’s quick to write back: Sugar daddy acquired.

You can’t help but giggle when you see his response. You’re curled up in bed, wearing one of his shirts. Because of the time difference, it’s bedtime for you but the afternoon for him.

Text: I’m so bored daddy.

Reply: You need someone to take care of you Kitten?

Text: Please?

Reply: There’s a box in the closet baby, go get it.

You push back the blankets as you step out of the bed with piqued curiosity. You open the closet to see a box the size of a shoebox. Your name is written on the top in Nathan’s all caps handwriting. With the box in hand, you go back over to the bed to see a new text from Nathan telling you not to open it until he gets back to his hotel room.

You want to open it now, but you know he’ll know somehow if you did. So, you slide under the blankets again and drift off. You might as well nap before he’s done with his meeting.

Your phone rings a few hours later, and it’s a facetime call. Happily, you answer to see your husband’s face.

“Hey kitten,” he smiles. He’s leaning back against the headboard of his bed. His shirt is off, and he looks damp from a fresh shower.

“Hi baby,” you smile and turn on a bedside lamp.

“Did I wake you?” he frowns slightly.

“Yes, but it’s ok, I miss you!”

“I miss you kitten,” he rubs his hand over his head. “This shit is so boring.”

You laugh. “How’s it going though?”

“Fine.” He pauses and looks down over the rim of his glasses. “Did you open the box?”

“No,” you smile, holding it up. “You told me not to!”

“Good girl. Open it,” he nods.

Inside the small box are a few objects. The first thing you notice right away is a dildo. You hold it up and he quirks a proud brow.

“You’re gonna use that in a minute kitten,” he tells you, and you can’t see where his hand goes, but he’s starting to lazily stroke his cock.

“Is this the one we made?” you laugh at the memory.

“Oh yeah it is,” he smirks, and lets out a soft whine. He’s thinking about it too.

He’d called you down to his lab one afternoon, he’d been in there all day and you’d not heard from him. So, when he called you it was a surprise, you thought he was going to use you as a guinea pig for his smart home device he’s testing named Etta. He’s getting close to finishing her, and you agreed to help him with the trials. But this wasn’t it.

You walked in the lab, pushed on the glass door, it was cool under your fingertips. Inside the room however, it was quite warm. Warmer than normal. Nathan stood in the middle of the room, hand on his hard cock, pumping himself slowly.

“Nathan?” you laughed and flushed despite coming in here and seeing weirder things. And you’ve done crazier things with him before.

“Good you’re here,” he said.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a mold of my dick. Here,” he tapped the table, indicating for you to hop up on it. “Strip. Let’s go let’s go,” he taps the table quicker.

“Ok ok!” you scoffed a little, but you figured he had a reason. “Why do I need to be naked for you to make a mold of your-“

“I need to stay hard while the mold is on me kitten.” He reached for a tube filled with a solution. Once you were naked, he positioned himself inside the tube. He let out a soft gasp at the change of temperature and focused in on you. “Ok, go.” He nodded his head at you.

“Pardon?” you started to step off the counter when he winced again.

“Touch yourself baby, please.”

You wanted to gloat, but you didn’t want to ruin his project. But then, you thought maybe some gloating might turn him on a little.

You were shy the first and second time he asked you to touch yourself in front of him, but by now you’d gotten quite good at putting on a show for your husband. He moaned watching your fingers move.

“How long do you have to stay hard for?”

“Five minutes. But it’s not so easy when this thing is fuckin’ cold.”

You kept going. And you were seconds away from coming when Nathan’s timer went off. He gently pulled himself out of it and reached for you.

“Oh no, you are not touching me until that stuff is off you.”

He promptly ignored you and shoved your hand away. He knelt on the ground and buried his face in between your legs. His moans and beard added to your pleasure, and you came when you heard him groan deeply. He came untouched, his cum dripped onto the floor and down his length.

You’d not seen the dildo until now that it’s in your hands.

“Fuck, I wish I was there to push it into you,” Nathan sighs. “But since you can’t have the real me-“

You smile and set the dildo on the bed next to you. You continue going through the box. Inside there’s a bottle of lube, some new lingerie, and a small scrap of paper. It has information about picking up something tomorrow.

“Make sure you’re awake, you can’t miss this delivery,” he tells you over the phone. “Now, please baby. Can I see you?”

You pull off your shirt, and he groans.

“Fuck look at you. Do they miss me?”

You purse your lips together, wanting to roll your eyes at his joke, but yes- yes you miss him touching your tits. So, so badly.

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” you grin.

“So that’s a yes then. Ok, baby, touch ‘em. Please, fuck.”

His hand slides up and down his cock in full view of you while you touch your chest for him. You do everything he asks, but you start to tell him what to do as well.

Soon you’ve got the dildo ready and he moans louder than you when you slide it in. It’s strange to feel it, because you know it’s not him, but you can tell it was made from him. It fills you just the same.

“How’s it feel baby?”

“Thick,” you moan, clenching around it. “But I miss your warmth,” you tell him honestly. And you do, you miss his heat, not just physically, but the passion. It’s there now, only virtual.

“Remember when we used to have phone sex when you still lived at home? And start moving that that kitten.”

You moan doing as he asks and tell him yes you remember.

“I tried to hide my posters of you from you,” you laugh then moan again.

“Posters? Plural? Oh fuck!”

“Are you about to come from that?” you can’t help but giggle.

“Fuck, you were so cute when you were all shy and crushing on me.”

That pulled a moan from you.

“You like that kitten? Remember when you were so shy? Fuck, you let me take your virginity baby.”

You want to watch him, but you throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Look at me kitten,” he demands, and you open your eyes. “Come. Now,” his voice drops, and you can’t help but relax and let your body release. He watches you in delight squeeze around the gift he made you. It sends him over, and it’s your turn to delight in the pleasure look on his face, and his cum on his tight stomach.

“I miss you,” you gasp, catching your breath.

“Fuck, me too baby. But that was sexy as fuck,” he grins, and you nod in agreement. “Now, go back to sleep baby. Don’t forget about that delivery tomorrow.”

You set an alarm as soon as you get off the phone with him. When you’ve cleaned up and curled back in bed, you smile wondering what on earth he could have sent you.

The next morning you wake and get dressed to see about the delivery. You make the small walk to the field where the helicopter comes with your weekly deliveries of food and whatever else the two of you need.

The pilot hands you a box, and it says not to open until you get back to the compound.

But you can hear what’s inside before you do.

You gasp softly and walk quickly back to the compound and open the box as soon as you step inside, and the door is closed behind you.

Inside is a little black kitten. He has on a little blue collar, and the name tag says “Prometheus.” He’s a little jumpy from being flown in, but before you know it, he’s happy and exploring around his new home.

You pick him up and cuddle him and give him a kiss on his little head. With him in your arms, you look in side the box again. There’s a towel and another note.

All it says is “a kitten for my kitten.”

tagging: @pascal-isaac, @wasicskosgirl, @velvetmel0n, @huliabitch, @shadow-assassin-blix, @writefightandflightclub, @aellynera, @softboywriting, @veuliee2, @spider-starry, @mylifeliterally, @millllenniawrites, @ntlmundy, @foxilayde, @writingletterstothefire, @mandoplease, @anetteaneta, @feelmyroarrrr, @artsymaddie, @shakespeareanwannabe, @poedameronsbeard, @deanfanatic67, @magicsuperheroes, @phoenixhalliwell, @that-one-weird-one, @mariesackler, @yourbucky084, @woakiees

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman imagine #nathan bateman x you #my writing #human touch series #part nine #idk if anyone is still reading this series LOL #or if anyone remembers me-#IVE BEEN BUSY DOING A SECRET PROJECT #BUT THANK YOU IF YOU HAVE READ THIS #I MISS YALL

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sodapill · 4 years ago

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days like television

words: 3.9k

relationships: denji & hayakawa aki & power, implied akiangel

ao3 link

a/n: here’s something i wrote exploring the dynamic of the hayakawa household from denji’s pov!

cw: mild emetophobia, smoking, ptsd

These days, Denji finds himself greeting every morning with a face full of cat fur.

Nyako has taken a liking to sleeping in his room, and she’s got a strict routine that he’s expected to follow. Breakfast doesn’t begin at the reasonable time after Aki doles out their portions, but rather whenever Nyako demands it, usually before the sun has peaked past the horizon and always when Denji is dead asleep.

Her favorite method of waking him used to be persistent yowling, but recently she’s adopted a new strategy—settling the length of her pudgy stomach over his head and cutting off his air supply.

It’s devious but effective, and as Denji’s body kicks into fight or flight from lack of oxygen, he can’t help but think they’ve raised a spoiled brat.

Power claims that’s how all pets are, but Pochita never refused the pathetic scraps of food Denji managed to scrounge up for their sporadic meal times. Nyako is the odd one for being a normal cat with normal needs.

It’s a good thing Denji is “nothing if not adaptable,” a phrase Aki used once that he’s since latched onto. Whether Aki meant it as an insult or not is irrelevant.

Occasionally growing a chainsaw for a head has made him realize he can adapt to pretty much anything. The hardest part of it all was learning to live with other people, and Denji sort of manages that. What difference does a daily smothering make in the grand scheme of things?

He’s gotten used to pulling a purring Nyako from his face so he can trudge to the kitchen and open a can of cat food. It’s considered one of his chores anyway—and yeah, they have a chore chart now.

That was all Aki, of course. Fed up with the stacks of unwashed dishes and dirty clothes strewn across the living room floor, he’d cooked and then withheld a delicious hotpot dinner until Denji and Power both agreed to work out a schedule. They’d decided to cycle cleaning throughout the week and set Saturday as laundry day. That way there was no excuse for Power to walk around in her underwear under the guise of not having anything to wear. It was her idea that the penalty for missing a chore be losing a finger, and Aki added it to the chart like that wasn’t something he’d ever have to worry about.

Denji didn’t want to give either of his housemates the satisfaction, so he’d gotten used to doing chores.

Begrudgingly.

Make no mistake—he can get used to anything, but he doesn’t have to like it. He’s learned to tolerate doing dishes like he tolerates the acrid smell of second-hand smoke filling his lungs whenever Aki feels like having a cig indoors. Bad smells never bothered him when he’d lived in poverty, but the weight of smoke in particular is stomach-turning.

As he’s forced to crack open a window and watch Nyako slink a similar retreat onto the sill, Denji considers how all this luxury has possibly made him a bit spoiled too.

After all, not everything he grows accustomed to is outright shitty.

For all her annoying living habits, Power proves to be a low-maintenance roommate. Her moods fluctuate so wildly, if she finds anything to complain about in the first place, she’s over it by the next turn of the clock. She also takes bizarre pride in completing her chores, dragging him or Aki around the apartment to boast of what a good job she’s done.

She pouts if they don’t praise her enough—but whatever. Denji is used to it.

Her constant chatter becomes less annoying the more time they spend together, until he realizes the apartment is too quiet on the rare occasion she’s not there. The sound of her exchanging meows with Nyako reminds him he’s home, and even her cackling laugh soon registers as comforting background noise.

Similarly, Denji now recognizes the shifts in Aki’s tone well enough to know if he’s actually in trouble, versus if Aki is scolding him for the sake of propriety. Denji watches for other tells when pulling pranks with Power—an indulgent shake of the head and a tug at the corner of Aki’s lips means they’re in the clear.

It's easy to pinpoint exactly what shade of melancholy he’s drifted into just by counting the number of consecutive cigarettes he pulls from the pack. Two is contemplative—four, somber. Anything past that means they’ll have to arrange for takeout that night.

Aki is consistent, and when he starts drifting in and out of rooms like he’s lost something, his fingers trailing the walls as if navigating in the dark, Denji knows he’s actually looking for a distraction. In those moments, Denji makes an effort to act extra obnoxious, riling Power up in turn until Aki has no choice but to pay attention to them and forget whatever bad memory he’d gotten hung up on.

Gathering facts about the people he lives with isn’t a conscious choice. It’s instinctual, like how his body expects food on the regular. He’d put up with a constant state of starvation for his entire adolescence, doing odd jobs on an empty stomach like it was nothing. Now it ruins his entire day if he doesn’t get at least three meals. What’s crazier, his body punishes him when he takes advantage of the unrestricted access to food.

Aki’s cooking is good. So good in fact, that for a large span of time, Denji is constantly shifting into “eat as much as possible” mode, left over from when food was scarce. This results in several post-meal puke sessions, made all the more miserable because Denji’s body is pretty much invincible, right? He’d thought whatever devils were made out of meant they were above this shit. Ending up with his face inside a toilet bowl has forced him to rethink his previous assumptions.

It sucks waiting for his body to adjust alongside his brain, but Power and Aki do their best to make it more bearable. The first time Power kneels beside him on the cold tile, he’s sure she’s there to laugh at his misery—it wouldn't be the first time. He’s bewildered when instead, she places both palms on his back and rubs them vigorously up and down in what must be her version of a soothing caress. She doesn’t laugh or even complain, and only when his stomach is empty and he’s slumped against the wall in exhaustion does she get up and fetch Aki, who steps into the bathroom with a soldier's solemnity to deposit a mug of hot tea into Denji’s hands.

It happens enough times where Denji doesn’t bother to ask questions, filing it away as one of those things that fits into an unnamed category of half shitty, half not so shitty—like movie nights.

The three of them have vastly different tastes, Aki with his mind-numbing art house flicks and Power’s penchant for talking animal movies made for literal children. Denji doesn’t know what genre he likes most, but it’s definitely not either of those.

It’s an unspoken rule that they have to watch each one all the way through. Aki is the type to sit in complete silence because talking “ruins the integrity of the film,” whatever that means, and Denji’s running commentary annoys him to no end.

Denji and Power make bets each time on how long it’ll take him to snap or huff out a laugh.

On the rare occasion it’s Denji’s turn to choose, he splits the difference and puts on something from the best seller section at the video store. With this method, they all have to suffer through garbage, but occasionally he’ll stumble across a good movie—one he doesn’t mind staying quiet for. He watches Aki and Power rather than the television screen, their rapt attention filling him with an odd sense of pride.

Denji categorizes those nights as not so shitty.

After a while, he gets so used to the good and bad mundanities of domestic living, he can’t even imagine what a change in routine would look like.

Then they go to Hell, and instead of cat fur, Denji is more often violently jerked awake to the sound of Power’s screams.

She’s more dependent than ever before, clinging to Denji at all times like an extra limb. When the sun begins to set outside their windows, she startles at every sound, working herself into a panic while her nails dig half-moon circles into his arms that he’s sure would leave permanent scars were he fully human.

Looking after her turns out to be even more work than getting up at the crack of dawn to feed Nyako—but for some reason, Denji can’t bring himself to resent her for it.

He takes on the responsibility of comforting her with a resilience he never knew he had, going as far as holding her hand each night while she struggles to calm down enough to fall asleep.

Power isn’t the only one Denji has to keep an eye on.

At first, he doesn’t notice the way Aki will sometimes stop cold in the middle of cutting vegetables, gripping the knife handle hard enough to whiten his knuckles as a shudder of something awful passes through his body. He’s good at hiding it, and when Denji catches the tail end of one of these attacks, Aki brushes it off like it’s nothing.

It’s only after Aki suddenly sinks to the floor in the middle of a conversation, his hand clutching at the place where his missing arm wouldn’t reattach, that Denji realizes he’s overlooked something important.

Phantom limb syndrome, Aki explains, is an ongoing side effect of losing a limb wherein the brain gets mixed signals from the area of severance and translates them in the only way it knows how—as pain. He rambles off some more medical science that goes completely over Denji’s head, but from what he can gather, this affliction is severe, unavoidable, and sometimes life long. There’s no cure, but as with other chronic conditions, the goal is learning to manage it the best you can.

The thought of Aki suffering in silence makes Denji want to deck him as much as it makes him want to find a solution for his pain. He juggles these warring impulses until Aki clenches his jaw and looks away—and Denji understands that Aki won’t spend any extra energy looking after himself by choice.

So Denji and Power force him to.

They keep a hot pack in the cabinet above the microwave, and when Aki shows even the slightest sign of falling under the grip of pain, they warm it up and force him to sit with it pressed to the aching muscle. They know it’s particularly bad when Aki doesn’t bother hiding how much it hurts, and in those moments they take turns massaging his shoulder.

Aki refuses to speak with them during, so Denji and Power talk to each other, treating the situation like it’s something they’ve always done.

Denji doesn’t comment on Aki’s silence. He’s come to understand that there are some things they don't need to say aloud. When you’ve lived with a person long enough, you can share a thought with just a gesture, or pick up on ideas that you can't put into words

Power doesn't need to tell him she appreciates his company on her bad nights. Likewise, he doesn’t need to voice why he doesn’t mind taking care of her. He couldn’t even if he tried.

And when Denji questions Aki on why he’s wearing a glove indoors, Aki only has to shoot a single warning look to shut him up.

Later that night, Aki welcomes the Angel Devil into their apartment.

One arm between the two of them—Denji thinks that's pretty funny, but he doesn’t say so. Instead, he hangs back as Power slinks around their guest like she’s investigating a new play thing.

Angel endures her attention for a short time, then flicks Denji a cool look and tucks his wings in, settling on the couch without a word.

Aki hovers in the foyer, glancing between the three of them like he’s waiting for a fight to break out. It’s such a dumb look on him that Denji takes it upon himself to make the first move.

He plops down on the arm rest and asks Angel outright if he’s ever tried using the thing floating above his head as a frisbee.

Angel rolls his eyes and informs Denji that his halo is sharp enough to slice through metal.

“Sounds like a challenge,” Denji shoots back, and he’s sure Aki’s surprise mirrors his own when the corner of Angel’s mouth lifts into a smirk.

“By all means, be my guest,” he says, inclining his head in invitation.

Denji moves to take Angel up on his offer, but Aki comes back to himself and catches Denji’s hand in a tight hold. He then spends several minutes lecturing them both on how hard it is to get blood stains out of upholstery.

The rest of the night is...well, it’s still weird. But Aki so obviously wants it not to be that they all pretend for his sake. While he cooks dinner, Denji and Power keep their surprise guest company.

Angel is surprisingly talkative when prompted, though he always seems to veer their conversations into the morose. At one point, he stares glumly at Nyako snoozing on the counter and warns them to watch her closely.

“Cats don’t actually have nine lives,” he remarks, “I learned that the hard way.”

Denji doesn’t say anything when Aki lays out enough food to feed a small army, all special dishes that he’d never cook for Power or Denji even if they begged. He digs in without a word, and it’s a good thing his mouth is stuffed, otherwise he’d be gaping at the way Aki carefully feeds Angel, every so often lifting a glass of water to his lips.

They follow up dinner with ice cream—which must be Angel’s favorite as Aki spoons him two extra helpings—and then Power is tugging at Denji’s arm, urging him to come take a bath with her.

He relents under the assumption that Angel will be gone by the time they’re done washing up. But about half an hour later, Denji exits the bathroom toweling off his hair to find Angel is still there, sitting close to Aki. They’re angled towards each other, Aki’s arm thrown over the back of the couch and the fabric of his long sleeve shirt brushing the tops of Angel’s wings.

They both look up at Denji when he enters the room. Angel’s expression appears bored as usual, but Aki’s is strange, his face relaxed in an unfamiliar way.

Denji opens his mouth, then decides better.

Aki stands, helping Angel up with a steady gloved hand to his back, and it takes everything Denji has in him to stay quiet as Aki mumbles an awkward goodnight, shepherding Angel down the hall and into his room.

Denji immediately makes up an excuse to run to the convenience store so he can check the balcony outside Aki’s room from street level. Sure enough, Aki and Angel are leaning up against the railing, heads inclined as if they’re speaking in low tones.

Denji watches Aki light himself a cigarette. He offers the box to Angel, who says something that actually makes Aki laugh, the sound ringing clear even from a distance. Placing a second cigarette in Angel’s mouth, Aki holds his own steady between two fingers, bending forward to meet the smoldering end to Angel’s unlit one. A pinpoint glow of orange flares in the dark space between their faces like a morning star.

Denji turns away, stuffs his hands in his empty pockets, and decides he’ll swing by the convenience store after all.

By the time he gets back, Angel is gone.

Aki is once again sitting on the couch, staring at the blank TV screen with a stupid smile on his face, and Denji has to say something.

It turns out Aki can punch just as hard with one arm as with two.

After that, Denji pays closer attention. Without intending, he starts to notice the way Aki sometimes looks at him and Power—though he can’t focus long enough to figure out what those looks mean. They’re gentle and wistful in a way that makes Denji want to pull at Aki’s cheeks and mold a better expression.

He tries it once, but that puts Aki in a foul mood for hours so he doesn’t do it again.

Things get even more confusing on a night where they’re all sprawled out on the carpet. The movie Aki puts on is so boring it knocks Power out in minutes, her head pillowed in the crook of Denji’s arm. He starts drifting off soon after.

It happens as he’s on the verge of sleep. His mind is muddled to the world around him, but for a second, he imagines he feels Aki place an ear to his chest.

Denji is sure he dreamt it until he walks in on Aki in the same position over a napping Power, his cheek pressed to her collarbone and his brows furrowed in concentration.

Denji backs out of the room and thinks there’s something he’s missing here.

The next time Aki is in the kitchen, Denji tests a theory, loudly announcing that he’s going to take a nap before stretching out on the couch. He feigns sleep long enough to rethink his entire strategy—when he finally hears Aki pause his task and tread softly across the room.

Denji struggles to keep a straight face as Aki kneels beside the couch and lowers an ear to his chest, keeping it there much too long for someone trying not to get caught. Eventually, he heaves a great sigh and pulls away, returning to the kitchen like he’d never left.

So, yeah. There’s the whole listening to their heartbeats thing.

Another quirk to add onto the list of Aki behavior that Denji doesn’t understand but has to accept.

Aki is still Aki. He still shouts at them when they break things, still cooks their meals and tolerates their company—though, maybe tolerates isn’t the right word anymore.

Denji is flipping through the pages of a porno mag when one of the ads catches his eye. A smiling woman in a bikini holds up a machine with a handle on top and an open space in the middle. He thinks it might be some crazy sex thing, but he has Power read the description, and she tells him it’s for making a dessert called “shaved ice.”

Neither of them know what that is, but the ad makes it sound like the best thing ever—

“—and it can be ours for the low price of two-thousand yen!” Power shouts, smacking the magazine against his arm.

Denji tears out the ad and goes to pester Aki into buying it for them.

Aki bitches and moans about wasting money on useless shit, but after getting it out of his system, he puts down the laundry he was folding and snatches the page from Denji’s hand, dialing the number with a sour expression. He’s curt over the phone, reading off his credit card details like someone has a gun to his head. Denji wishes he could see the face of the unlucky salesperson on the other line.

“Denji.” Aki says, and Denji tilts his head before realizing he’s not being spoken to. Aki pauses, and then directs a puzzled frown his way. “Last name?”

Denji shrugs.

Aki blinks at him, the furrow between his brow smoothing as if in stunned realization. After a bizarre stretch of silence, he readjusts his hold on the handset and glances away, mumbling out, “Hayakawa. Hayakawa Denji.”

When he eventually hangs up, his gaze stays trained on the far wall like he’s lost in thought. Denji decides not to test his luck by sticking around, but Aki catches his wrist as he goes to leave.

“What?” Denji grumbles. “I said thank you, didn’t I?”

“You didn’t, actually,” Aki replies dryly, but there’s no real reproval in his tone. “That’s not—just hold on a minute.”

His faltering words give Denji pause. He shakes off Aki’s hand but stays put.

“Listen,” Aki begins, messing with the pile of clothes he’d left aside. He unfolds a shirt, holds it out, and then folds it again, all the while not meeting Denji’s eye. “If you or Power ever needed— If for some reason I wasn’t here...and you needed something for documents…”

“Why wouldn’t you be here?” Denji asks, and thinks of their work. “If you’re traveling we can call you.”

Aki turns to him then, something unreadable in his thousand-yard stare.

It’s like facing a door labeled, “do not open.”

Aki sighs and looks away. “Forget it.”

And Denji does forget—until a fews days later when a package arrives at their doorstep postmarked to one Hayakawa Denji.

Placing the box on the living room table, he studies the characters of his given name, covering and uncovering them with his palm. He’d never noticed how incomplete they looked without a surname to go before. The sight turns rusty gears in his head, almost like he’s on the verge of understanding an important truth.

Power bowls him over in her excitement before he comes to a conclusion.

They leave the setup to Aki, who confiscates the shaved ice maker and reads the instructions with the two of them hovering over his shoulder. It turns out to be very simple, just a matter of filling the upper compartment with ice and turning the lever. The machine wobbles below Aki’s hand, so Denji holds it steady, watching with fascination as snow-like flakes collect in the bowl underneath. The novelty wears off a little when he dips a finger in to taste and finds it flavorless like regular ice, but Aki bats his hand away and pulls out a bottle of blue liquid.

“Flavor syrup,” he says, scanning the label. “Hawaiian Blast—what’s that supposed to be?”

Whatever it is, it tastes delicious drizzled over the ice flakes, sweet and refreshing like no dessert Denji has ever had.

Power gobbles up the first serving faster than Aki can make more, and he’s unsympathetic to the excruciating brain freeze that earns her.

She flicks the lever and turns to Denji with a conspiratorial grin. “Think it would work with blood?”

“Great idea,” Aki says, chin in hand. “Why not make this perfectly innocent activity fucked up and evil?”

Power sticks her vibrant blue tongue out at him.

Denji hates getting cut open on principle, so he appeases her by mashing up strawberries with condensed milk into a gory looking topping they can all enjoy. Even Nyako gets to lick a drop off his finger.

Aki takes his first bite and gazes into his bowl like it’s a window into a far off time and place. “I haven’t had this since I was a kid.”

“Old man,” Denji snickers.

Power echoes him at double the volume, falling back and kicking her legs in the air. The motion disturbs Nyako, who clambers off her lap and settles at Aki’s feet

“Oh, shut it,” Aki says, but the hint of a smile softens his tone into fondness. He scratches at Nyako’s ear. “At least you’re on my side.”

Shaken by her cat’s betrayal, Power stammers out, “‘Tis only pity! Nyako feels nothing but pity for humans, just like her master!”

“Is that so?” Aki raises a brow and—to Power’s great dismay—makes a show of lifting Nyako into his lap. “Lucky us then.”

“Yeah,” Denji says, a brilliant grin working its way onto his face. “Lucky us.”

#chainsaw man #csm #denji chainsaw man #power chainsaw man #aki hayakawa #akiangel #peimou writings

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marina-roslinka · 4 years ago

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This is my first time writing something like this, so it's a little bit sht, but I'm posting it anyway since I promised it to you guys.

Michael, Trevor, and my rant.

The first thing I want to say about those characters is that I believe they meant to be together, they cannot exist without each other. Yes, I know it sounds like cheesy line from romantic novel. But before you roll your eyes, let me explain.

Let’s remember their signature colors: blue and orange. You see, I think they play a big part in understanding them as individuals and as a relationship and their dynamics. You can read about the color analysis here if you like to.

I personally want to look at it from a little different perspective. To be more precise about elements Fire and Water: Trevor represents fire and Michael is water of course.

Those two men have a different understanding of what life is supposed to be and what it means to be alive. Trevor being a fire element is always trying to rile up Michael, making him angry and emotional like himself.

Michael on the other hand obviously thinks that Trevor is too much, that he needs to calm down and too bright, too hot, that eventually, he will burn not only himself but also everyone else around.

We see examples of that a few times throughout the game. For example when he tried to convince Trevor to change his current lifestyle and “grow up” and it’s not good for him.

“M: Alright man, here we go. Tough love time. T: I'll take it tough, I'll take it sissy, I'll take it any way you're giving it. M: When you gonna get it together, bro? Most guys as they get older, they pull their foot off the gas. T: You always did like to judge people. M: I ain't judging, I'm trying to help. T: Help with what? You think I need help 'cause my lifestyle is worse than everyone elses? M: The speed, the horniness, the killings. T: You kill, and you satisfy your urges - only you think you're above everything. Tough love time! M: Fine. Fine! You think what you like. But you know I care, and you know I tried.”

Going back to the whole "They can't exist without each other" thing.

Why?

Too much fire you will burn. Too much cold, you will freeze. This is the exact reason why I think that they need each other. To create a balance. Again, you can clearly see this in the story. Michael is depressed, sad and bored out of his mind by the pool.

Trevor is crazier than ever with no direction and no purpose. Just pure chaos.

“T: Mas o menos. Michael didn’t have a nerve back then. I didn’t have a direction”

It’s obviously not perfect since they both are fucked up people.

You can describe Michael's attitude towards Trevor with the same example. You can love fire for numerous reasons, right? You can look at and feel calm, feel warm or maybe it helps you to reflect on yourself. However, fire is also very dangerous. It can be unpredictable. One spark can light the fire and it may not even possible to stop it.

But Michael is able to.

Throughout the game Michael said and done things that made Trevor very angry. Like, other people would have been dead angry. He can make him change his mind or even stop him from killing someone. Because, as I said, he represents water.

This is why I believe that Michael’s fear of Trevor is not usual. He is afraid of those big sparks that out of his control like when he betrayed him for example. He was afraid Trevor would find him and kill him. Part of him believes he deserves it because of all the guilt. Trevor is the face of karma and he came back to collect the debt.

However, thirty seconds in the car since they left the house he felt that everything is ok and that he is not in any danger so he had no problem with insulting and overall being an asshole to Trevor right away.

Unfortunately things not that easy and simple as always. They can be good for each other just as bad. Fire can be dangerous to water and water can be dangerous to fire. (This is why Trevor doesn’t like to take showers xD) It reminds me of all those scenes when they get angry at each other, but stepping away so they won’t hurt one other.

I am going to leave Fire/Water here, just keep it in mind for the rest of analysis or whatever this is. I’ve never done it :D

Now for the ultimate question. Do I think they love each other or they hate each other?

Well… Just as their history together it's complicated.

The very moment Trevor pulled the trigger of his flare gun with no hesitation, Michael definitely knew that Trevor is a dangerous person. Then he definitely knew Trevor has serious mental issues.

Why did he stick with Trevor before and even after? Well, the most obvious answer is that he just cares about him. They instantly clicked together or as Lamar said “Love at first sight”.

The other thing that played a part in Michael’s affection at the start is that Trevor is like a shining loud toy for Michael's brain. I see M as someone who grasps at every opportunity to experience intense emotions. Trevor is like a walking time bomb that won’t explode around you. It also perhaps made Michael feel special. It’s not healthy but happens to people nonetheless.

I believe that Michael does love Trevor, but he also hates the things that he does and Michael hates himself for still loving someone like Trevor.

“Why do I love him why do I care for him, I'm not supposed to. He is a horrible person. He is a monster. What is wrong with me?”

The other thing is very common for people to have desire to help another person who's hurting. No matter how much messed up they are we still can feel sorry and I'm sure Michael felt the same and still feels the same. This also leads to his frustration about Trevor.

“Why can't you be normal? I had a hard childhood but I didn't turn out that bad”

He’s also repressing his feelings because of internalized homophobia. In addition, it's just frustration on top of frustration on and on.

Michael hates himself for many things he's done. When Trevor came back he got so overwhelmed that all of this just start boiling inside of him. And when you can handle it he just surrenders to the common emotion – anger.

(It seems to me that fans expect Michael to figure out why Trevor is doing this, why he says that what real feelings are behind the words and actions. You know, be the wise one. )

At first glance it may seem that Michael does not care about T and I can see why. Since the game does it like we see Trevor as the one who tells the truth and Michael as the one who lies. Especially on the first playthrough you can easily fall for this little manipulation. Because of this we perceive Michael as a liar. I mean, yeah, he uses lies as a defense mechanism. Therefore, it’s natural for us (and Trevor) not to believe him when he said “I care. I missed you”.

Trevor is a liar too. Yes, I know, shocker.

The most common thing I see people say about Trevor is that he is a loyal person. All because of this rule about “brothers”. Nope. Maybe he likes to say that, but in reality he is not.

Take Brad as an example. Bless him.

Trevor talked about how he planned to stop working with Michael, but pushed him away because he thought he would leave him. If you hang out with Lamar, T admits he was literally going to kill Brad. Not like Michael of course. He wasn’t gonna stab him in the back. Just stab him in the face I guess.

Trevor didn't kill Michael, not because of some creed. It’s just because he still loves him and cares about him. In the core of everything it’s just love.

Trevor is obviously a dick to Michael because he's hurt so much. Can you imagine how painful it was, to lose the only person you loved and loved you back? Then to find out they betrayed you. Like, Trevor literally thought, Michael was using him from the start. Though, he doesn't hate M, like he said so many times. Trevor hates himself for being this way, for being not good enough, for Michael to choose him. Again and again.

Betrayal.

“M: I don’t know, man, I’ve made such a mess of things. Constantly…my whole life. Chase things. Get them. Hate them. Chase things, get them, hate them…”

I feel like often people don’t even consider Michael's feelings or mental issues. Trevor also says very hurtful words to M. Yes, he understands the reason behind Trevor’s anger, but this doesn’t negate the fact those words hurt a lot. I mean, he was even offended by the fact T didn’t hug him. As usual, he cannot cope with feeling of guilt and everything again comes down to aggression.

I also want to remind, that despite the killings, Michael didn’t abandon Trevor. He was even letting him to see his children. Also name Tracey is suspiciously similar to name Trevor. Isn't it a display of love? Can you imagine how many times Michael forgave T for doing something crazy?

Well, Michael was just afraid of Trevor hurting him or his family if he tells T they’re done.

Trust me, if M didn’t give a shit about his best friend, he would’ve just killed him.

However, Michael and Trevor's relationship before Ludendorff wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows.

I personally think there were four main reasons:

1. He was just tired of living the way he did. 2. Safety of his family. 3. The FBI breathed down their backs and suggested him a ticket to freedom.

In fear of losing Michael Trevor pushed him even more. Most likely thought their relationships could only last if they were connected by the partnership. An example of this is Trevor’s negative reaction to Michael's words that he wants to be done with robberies and make movies.

“T: I could feel like I was losing you, so I pushed you harder. I thought that how to keep you in the game and I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve said it already, haven’t I?”

4. As ironic as it may be, in the desire not to lose Michael, Trevor himself turned out to be the last drop, for his best friend’s decision.

Conclusion: they should stop being dumb-dumbs and be honest about how they really feel.

And therapy. A lot of therapy.

#gta 5 #michael de santa #trevor philips #trikey

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clumsyclifford · 4 years ago

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hi! idk if you're still doing the prompts but if you are #47? whatever pairing you're vibing with atm 😊 -🦥

HELLO! first of all, the pairing bot gave me malum after it gave me cashton twice but i didn’t feel like doing this for cashton so i wrote it malum, hope that’s cool. ALSO. one day i am going to write a real proper epistolary fic, mark my words, but for now this is all i have to offer you. i know it’s rather different from like. a Normal fic. but i had fun writing it so :)

read on ao3

Dear Calum,

My mum suggested I write you a letter because of the whole data thing in Brazil. I don’t know what that really means but apparently calling would be extremely expensive so I’m doing this now. Maybe it’s weird. Don’t really care. Deal with it.

So how is Brazil? I don’t know the time difference. Wait, I can look it up. Google says 13 hours. That means you’re a day behind me half the time. I’m in your future! It doesn’t look good for you, Cal. Future is pretty grim. If I were you I would stay in the past. Although by the time you get this it will be way in the future for both of us…oops. Oh well. I tried.

Anyway. What was I saying. Brazil? How is it? Hot, I bet. Probably playing loads of football. Luke and I have been playing FIFA but it’s so not the same. He sucks at it and he doesn’t even cheat because he’s boring I guess or has “morals” or whatever (his words not mine). I miss playing FIFA with you. Always beating Luke is not fun. Okay it’s a little fun. But I still miss you. As soon as you’re back you’re reclaiming the player 2 controller. Did I mention that I miss you? You probably get it.

What can I update you about here? There’s not a lot to say. Nothing has really happened. At least not in my life. Oh! I can tell you a secret but don’t tell Luke I told you because he will definitely kill me. Not that you have any way to reach Luke. Don’t go behind my back and write a letter to Luke telling him I told you this. Anyway: Luke fancies Ashton! I totally got him to admit it during one of the FIFA games I mentioned. It was almost cute if I’m honest. He turned really red and got all blushy and stammery. I am now wondering if I should meddle or not. On the one hand, Ashton must like him back, right? Have you seen the two of them? I don’t want to deal with intra-band sexual tension. Unless it’s ours. We’ve already claimed the “insufferable band boyfriends” role though, so do we really want this to happen? I don’t really know what I’m arguing anymore. I don’t think I’ll do anything for now. Will keep you updated in case anything dramatic happens. Then again I have no idea how long it’ll be before you receive this. Something very dramatic might happen while this is in the post. Let me ask my mum. Okay she says it could be two weeks. That’s fucking long. You might just have to come back and get the Luke/Ashton updates in real time.

Besides from that there isn’t much to report. Everything is the same. Except I’m a lot lonelier now. This is what you’ve done to me Calum. I’m returning to my natural introvert state. I need you here, Cal!! Otherwise I’ll just have to become a turtle and by the time you’re back it might be too late.

I’m joking by the way. I hope you’re having a good time at football camp. Making new friends and learning Brazilian(?) Portuguese and kicking everyone’s arse and showing them up. I’m sure you are. I just miss you lots. :( Counting down the days!

Sending you lots of kisses and cuddles through the post,

Mikey

Dear Michael,

I don’t care either! I think writing letters is cool. We’re like lovers at war. Except neither of us are going to die. Probably. (Some of these footballers are CRAZY good. You never know!)

Actually, Brazil is pretty nice. It’s winter so the days have actually been not too hot, thankfully. It’s exhausting enough playing as it is. If it got any hotter, I might actually pass out. Forever. They’d have to ship me home in a body bag. (Are those only for dead people? Maybe not a body bag.)

It’s been almost two weeks since you sent your letter (I assume you sent it soon after I left?) which means there’s a good chance this one won’t get to you until I do, but in case it does I’m going to write and post it anyway. I hope by now you’re getting on better with Luke. If I’ve said it once or a million times, you guys have a lot in common and I really think you could be best friends if you weren’t both such stubborn shitheads. Which I say in the nicest way possible!

Of course Luke fancies Ashton, he’s liked Ashton since…honestly I don’t know when. Months and months at least. And Ashton clearly likes him back. I’ve never seen two people less capable of hiding their feelings. I’m surprised you didn’t notice before. Please tell me you decided to meddle in the end. You’re right, we can’t handle more sexual tension in the band. Don’t worry, they can’t possibly be more insufferable than we are. We are the most annoying boyfriends on the planet. We’re writing each other letters. Basically, it’s best for everyone involved if they get over themselves. Suck it up and kiss already! My friend Gustavo agrees with me. Also he says hi. (Well he says “oi” but I translated for you. See, I can do stuff like that. Kinda cool, right?)

I miss you too, you know. Very much. This might sound weird, but I keep having dreams about you? Like…I’ll be dreaming about whatever (usually football these days) and then you’ll just be there. Clearly my subconscious also knows I miss you. You know Ashton says that when you dream about someone, it’s because they’re thinking about you, so I hope that’s true. It’s kind of a cute idea. I hope you’re thinking about me. I’m thinking about you. Obviously. A lot. A lot.

There is one thing I want to tell you, though. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this, and the more I think about it the crazier it feels, but also more right. So…I think I’m gonna do the band. Not football. This is cool and all, but everyone here is so scary good, and…I don’t know. Maybe this is stupid but I don’t like the idea of a future without you when I could have a future with you. Like with the band, I mean. And I know it’s not the most practical dream, but imagine how cool it would be if it actually worked out. You know I like a challenge. So, anyway…that’s kind of where I’m at now. I’m going to keep thinking about it for the last two weeks here, but I don’t think I’ll change my mind. Don’t tell anyone, please. I just wanted to tell you as soon as I knew. My parents are going to be soooo mad. Not excited to tell them, but this feels like the right decision.

Anyway…this got weirdly deep. Sorry. Here’s something super not-deep to make up for it: one of the football coaches here has a dog whose name in English is pasta! PASTA! (It might be apple. Apparently they’re the same word just spelled differently and the Brazilians here can clearly tell the difference. I cannot. But I think it’s way funnier if the dog’s name is pasta so I’m going with that. Not that apple is much better? Imagine seeing any dog at all and thinking, “You know what this dog’s name should be? A common food item.” LOL.)

This letter is so long and I’m running out of space on the page and I also really need to go to sleep! The boys are telling me to turn off the lights. I miss you so much. Football camp is fun, but I can’t wait to be back. Counting down the days!

Thank you for the cuddles and kisses I am sending them right back to you,

Cal

“Oh my God,” Michael mumbles into Calum’s shoulder, “you smell.”

Calum laughs, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on Michael. “Seriously? I haven’t seen you in a whole month and that’s the first thing you say?”

“Ugh, I missed you so much, but that’s boring to say, you already knew it,” Michael says, drawing back to kiss Calum for a second. Then he buries his face in Calum’s neck. “Seriously, I’m not joking, if you ever leave me alone for that long again, I will die.”

“You had Luke. And Ashton.”

Michael groans loudly and overdramatically. “Ashton is busy with family stuff all the time and don’t you dare compare yourself to Luke.”

“We’re going to talk about this,” Calum says. “You’re going to be friends with him if it kills me.”

“Then prepare to die,” Michael says. Calum laughs, pressing a kiss to the slope of Michael’s neck. “I tried, okay? I promise I did. I said in my letter we were playing FIFA! Did you get my letter? I didn’t know how to check if it ever actually arrived.”

“I got it,” Calum says, stomach lurching with nerves. Ignoring them for the moment, he squeezes Michael and then steps back to give him a full once-over. “I loved it. It made me laugh. God, I really missed you, you know?”

“Join the fucking club,” Michael says, smiling. He’s been smiling this whole time, Calum realises; he’s just good at sounding like he’s whining even when he’s smiling. That’s probably the most Michael thing Michael can do.

“Alright, boys,” Mali says from a ways away. “Come on. Let’s go. And seriously, Calum? You hug Michael but not me?”

Calum throws his arms around Mali, and Mali wraps him in a hug. “Missed you,” Calum says sweetly in her ear. “Thank you for coming to get me. And for bringing Michael.”

“You’re welcome,” Mali says drily. They separate and Mali just gives him a small smile. “And I missed you too, you punk. Come on, you both. Baggage claim awaits.”

Mali takes off and Calum lingers behind until he can throw an arm over Michael’s shoulder. Michael leans heavily into him. It’s been so long since the last time Calum had Michael in his arms, but it’s so immediately familiar that it almost knocks Calum off his feet.

“So…” Calum bites his lip. “Did you get my letter? I sent it just after yours arrived, but I don’t know if it got here before me.”

Michael shakes his head. “Nope, nothing.” Something in his voice tells Calum he’s making no mistake. He’d probably checked the mail every day, just to see. There’s a pang in Calum’s chest, all mixed up with the anxiety flitting out to his fingertips from inside his rib cage.

“Oh,” Calum says. “Well, there was something in there that I wanted to tell you, but I guess I’ll just tell you now. Um.” He drops his voice to a half-whisper, clears his throat. “I don’t want to tell Mali or anyone yet, but…I decided I’m not going to do football.”

Michael jerks. “What?”

“I want to be in the band,” Calum says quietly. His heart is racing, but at least it’s racing towards the finish line instead of away. This is the right decision. He’s…ninety-five percent sure. That’s enough to know. It has to be enough to know. “I just, you know, football is fun, but music is more fun. To me. And anyway, um.” He rubs the back of his neck. “If I have a choice between a career that has you in it or one that doesn’t, I choose you. Obviously.”

“You’re gonna be in the band?” Michael repeats lowly, looking over at Calum like he’s seeing something he’s never seen before. “Seriously? You’d give up football?”

Calum shrugs, nods. “Yeah. I know my parents are going to kill me, but I don’t care. This is what I want.”

Michael stares at him. “I love you,” he says, and then kisses Calum too fiercely to give Calum adequate time to process that.

By the time they break apart, he’s processed it. And as he inhales to catch his breath, licking his lips, he knows with one-hundred-percent certainty that this is the right choice.

“I love you too,” Calum says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Where Michael is concerned, it usually is.

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thathopelessromantic · 3 years ago

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Reckless Good (6/?)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia Fic Rating: Explicit Chapter Rating: Teen+ Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Midoriya Izuku Note: Thanks again for your amazing support so far! I really appreciate all of you and your comments have been making my weeks since posting <3 This fic will be going on a short hiatus...I'm not sure how long it will be but July has been shockingly busy this year and has only continued to get crazier so I need a little more time to write more of this fic

Todoroki Shouto had accepted his fate as a public figure when he became a pro-hero, but there are some parts of his private life he would like to stay private. When he gets invited to be a speaker in a college lecture series, he goes to the meeting with one goal: to give the coordinator a piece of his mind and finally put an end to people hounding him for information about his family.

The last thing he expects is the curious, and quirkless, hero- and quirk-study professor, Midoriya Izuku, who has no interest in his family’s history, and, somehow, even more ties to the hero industry than Shouto. Intrigued by the professor, Shouto tentatively agrees to the lecture series, unknowingly intertwining their futures.

But the more Todoroki sees of Midoriya, the more questions he has. When a villain attack leaves them living together until the culprits are apprehended, maybe he’ll finally get some answers.

AO3: (x) Beginning/Chapter One: (x) Previous Chapter: (X) TDDKBB2021 Companion Art: (X)

It’s been three days since the debriefing, and Shouto hasn’t been able to think about much else besides the weirdness of everything that happened in the meeting. Even now, standing under the scalding spray of his shower, he’s going through the motions, but his mind is in the hallway outside the conference room with Ingenium.

“I’m sorry about lying to you regarding Architect,” Ingenium had said solemnly. They’ve grown and their costumes had both changed since then, but without his helmet on, head bent to discuss something quietly, Shouto was reminded of the in-class exercises they used to do in high school. Off to the side in a hallway, as if creating a strategy. Somehow adult-Ingenium had gotten even more serious than his high school counterpart. “I know it was wrong to mislead you, but I knew he meant no harm. I knew he could help with Kou.”

“How?” Shouto had asked, but even then he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“…I’ve worked with him before,” Ingenium admitted. “I know the law, but he…he just wants to help people. And he does good hero work.”

Ingenium couldn’t say afterwards if he thought Architect would still somehow help the case. He knew he would want to, but with more people involved, and more people who knew he had been there before, it would be harder. Shouto can’t articulate exactly why, but somehow knowing he might be what brings more scrutiny towards Architect makes him feel…guilty? It’s not his fault that he didn’t know, nor is it his fault Architect is technically doing something illegal, but he feels guilty anyways.

Shouto’s phone chimes just as he steps out of the shower. Even before he checks it, he knows it’s a new text from Midoriya. While Shouto has thought of little else but the weirdness that had transpired at the debriefing for the last three days, Midoriya has acted as if it never happened. He had been quiet the rest of the day afterwards, but the next day Midoriya had picked up their text chat where they had left off as if nothing had happened. The few times Shouto tried to broach the topic of Midoriya’s behavior at the debriefing, his contacts with heroes, the vigilante Architect, anything from the debriefing, all he got was an abrupt subject change or radio silence for a few hours. After a day and a half of the back and forth, Shouto gave up pushing the subject. For now.

Shouto slings a towel around his hips and grabs his phone off the counter. There’s a new picture attached to the message. Midoriya’s scarred hand holds a large navy book out in front of the camera. The sidewalk serving as a background and the blurred edges of the image suggests he was walking somewhere as he took the picture.

I found a copy of the book!! The text underneath reads.

Shouto can’t make out any title in the picture, but he knows what book it is anyways. There was only one they had really discussed in-depth that would warrant such an excited text. It was an early study of dual quirks. Apparently, according to Midoriya, some of the information and conclusions they came to is now outdated but it is still considered one of the best introductory texts for understanding how dual quirks come about with inheritance. He had been suggesting it to Shouto practically since they had started their text conversation.

Another text comes in before Shouto can come up with a reply.

I can keep this copy in my office, if you would like to come by for it sometime.

Shouto wouldn’t mind going by the professor’s office again. It wasn’t that far out of his way, and it would be a good excuse to see him and talk to him some more – either about quirks, or whatever the hell was going on at the debriefing in an environment he can’t escape so easily. But as he mentally goes through his schedule thinking of a time he might be able to get there, it would be at least another week, if not two.

Shouto grimaces, running a hand over his face.

between normal wrk nd this new case itll be a while…

Of course I understand you’re busy! Oh unless you wanted to read it sooner

Shouto glances at the time. He still has almost two and a half hours before his next shift starts. It would be enough time. Probably. Depending on how long it takes to get Midoriya to agree. He has an idea but he knows Midoriya isn’t going to like it.

are u in musutafu now?

Yes. Of course! I could drop it off at your agency!

i was thinking just my apartment

Shouto puts his phone down to find something to wear. He doesn’t usually wear normal clothes under his uniform, but he figures he has a little while before he needs to change into it. He expects to get a flurry of messages protesting his suggestion as he finds and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, but a full three minutes pass before his phone chimes with another message. It just reads: what, lacking even Midoriya’s usual proper grammar and capitalization.

Shouto snorts. He knew he wasn’t going to like it.

im at the hospital on guard today and ill be out of the office the next few days. it would be quicker

That does set off the flurry of texts he expected the first time, Midoriya insisting that wasn’t necessary and he didn’t need to read it that quickly and a few that just said no a few times. The texts are still coming in, the notification that he’s typing still lit up on the screen, when Shouto presses the phone icon next to his name and starts a call.

The phone starts to ring. And then continues to ring for so long, Shouto thinks he’s going to go to voicemail, when Midoriya suddenly answers. There’s a shuffle on the other line for a moment.

“Entro-er, Todoro…hello?” Midoriya says.

“Hello, Midoriya,” Shouto replies.

Shouto’s simple greeting seems to knock Midoriya out of his stupor, because he immediately jumps back into his protests, picking right back up where he left off in his texts. Shouto waits until he has to stop to take a breath.

“I figured you would really frown upon me texting you my address, so I thought I’d call. Do you have something to write with?”

Midoriya sputters for a moment before he sighs. “You…yeah, go ahead.”

Shouto blinks in surprise. He really expected more of a protest than that. Still, he rattles off the address before Midoriya comes to his senses and changes his mind. Midoriya has him repeat it once, just to be sure he copied everything down correctly.

“Okay. I guess I will see you in a few minutes,” Midoriya says, sounding resigned.

Shouto almost laughs at the tone. “You don’t actually have to bring it to me if it’s any trouble. I can get it from the office eventually.”

“No, I don’t mind and it’s not that far out of the way actually,” Midoriya admits. “I’m a little concerned by your complete disregard for privacy or self-preservation but otherwise, it’s no trouble.”

“‘A lack of self-preservation and privacy’ is pretty much in my job description.”

Midoriya sighs. There’s some quiet mumbling Shouto can’t make out through the phone before Midoriya seems to give up on arguing the point for the moment and says his goodbye.

Shouto plugs his phone in by the bed to charge until he has to leave. Monarch and Momo still haven’t let go of the last time his phone died while he was on duty and he’s sure even being away from the agency for the next few days won’t save him from their ire if it happens again.

Shouto is still toweling off his hair when there’s a knock on his door. He glances at the clock on his wall, but even without the visual confirmation, he knows it has only been a few minutes since his call with Midoriya had ended. It was unlikely he found his apartment that quickly. He throws the towel over the bar in the bathroom and grabs a t-shirt on his way out of his room.

He opens the front door, expecting to see one of his neighbors in the hall. Instead, it is Midoriya staring at him from the other side of the door. He looks almost the exact same as the first time they had met with his thin, crooked wire frame glasses and oversized leather satchel hanging at his side. Though he had replaced his ill-fitting cardigan with a Froppy sweatshirt and a jean jacket over a button-up. Midoriya’s eyes scan over him quickly, pausing briefly at his middle before jumping back to his face and then to the space next to his head.

“Hello,” Midoriya manages quietly.

Shouto tugs the bottom of his shirt the rest of the way down.

“Hello. I…wasn’t expecting you to find the place so quickly,” he replies simply.

“Um, yes, it was closer than I realized too,” Midoriya finally looks him in the eye again, only to look away a moment later to bow his head. “I’m sorry, I should have announced myself somehow.”

“It’s fine, Midoriya. I’m glad you didn’t have to go too far out of your way.”

They stand in an awkward silence for a moment before they both seem to remember themselves and try to speak again.

Midoriya fumbles with the leather bag at his side, searching for the book. “Right, I’m sure you need to finish getting ready for work-” he starts to say.

At the same time, Shouto steps back, opening his door further. “Would you like to come in?”

Midoriya stares at him in surprise for a moment before his gaze jumps to something behind Shouto, brow furrowing.

“Todoroki, do you live alone?”

“Um, yes?” Shouto glances over his shoulder but doesn’t see whatever it was that Midoriya must have seen.

He turns back around, but Midoriya is still staring hard at something in the distance.

“Midoriya, what did-"

A loud crash of breaking glass cuts off the rest of Shouto’s question. Midoriya reacts a second before him, grabbing Shouto’s arm and throwing them both down the hall, away from his door as flames erupt in the apartment behind him.

They tumble to the ground. Shouto lands hard on his back as they roll for a moment, the floor below him and Midoriya landing heavily on top of him knocking the air from his lungs. One of Midoriya’s hands cushioned his head in the fall, but he pulls it back quickly as if Shouto burned him.

Midoriya quickly lifts himself up, carefully checking Shouto over. “Are you alright?”

Shouto nods, not yet ready to try speaking again. The sound of a vicious fire cracks behind them and the smell of smoke is already starting to fill the hallway. Whatever was thrown has a fast-moving fire and Shouto can feel the heat even from a few feet away.

“Will your fire alarm alert the authorities?”

Shouto pushes himself to a sitting position . “Don’t have a fire alarm,” he chokes out. They really need to move. “They go off too easily.”

Midoriya stares at him for a moment like he’s lost his mind before realization dawns. “Right your quirk would probably make that a pain. Okay, I’ll call for help. But we need to get as many people out as we can before they get here.”

Shouto climbs to his feet, using the wall to hold himself up for the moment. Everything seems to feel okay, so he doesn’t think he’s injured, just winded. Midoriya looks worried but he still scrambles to his feet a moment later.

“I can get my upstairs neighbors out,” Shouto says.

“I’ll help everyone below evacuate,” Midoriya offers before Shouto has barely finished speaking. He takes off for the stairwell, glancing back at the last second. “Be careful, Todoroki.”

Shouto stares after him for a moment, incredulous. ‘I’m the pro in this situation,’ he wants to remind Midoriya. ‘And probably marginally more fire-resistant than you.’ “You too,” is all he manages instead as the stairwell door swings shut behind Midoriya. Faintly, Shouto remembers another time he watched a civilian run head-long into trouble, but he brushes off the otherwise long-forgotten memory. It was so long ago, he’s not sure what dredged up the old memory, but dwelling on it won’t help anyone right now.

Shouto forces himself away from the door and his desire to go after the apparently reckless, mysterious, crazy-overachieving civilian he just let run into danger and heads for his closest neighbor. There are only three apartments on each floor. The one next to him has been empty for months, and usually both of the Fukudas were at work during this time of day, but he pounds on the door just to be safe, calling for them both. Smoke is finally beginning to fill the hallway and he knows it will only be another minute or two before the fire itself begins to crawl its way out of the apartment too.

Shouto breaks through the door, calling for either of the Fukudas to answer as he darts through the handful of rooms laid out in a mirror of his own familiar apartment. Satisfied that it is empty, he goes back to the hall heading for the stairs. He can feel his right side rapidly growing colder as his quirk tries to regulate his body temperature. The overheated air burns his already sore chest as he runs.

Shouto is already shouting as he reaches the next floor, hoping to alert as many of his neighbors as he can. One door opens as he throws himself down the hall, an older woman looking at him suspiciously through the crack in her door. For once he’s thankful for his unique appearance because he sees recognition dawn on her a moment later, even without his hero suit.

“A fire started on the floor below, I’m trying to evacuate everyone on this floor and the next, if you have anyone home with you, get them!”

The woman nods in understanding, throwing her door open and running back into the apartment calling for someone. Shouto goes to the next closest apartment, banging on the door and calling for anyone who might be inside. The door to the apartment next door opens and a man looks out.

“What is all the racket about? They went to their parents for the week, no one is in there.”

“The apartment is empty right now?”

The man glares at him, but Shouto pushes on before he can start an argument with him. The first woman comes out of her apartment with her grandson and a small dog in tow. “Sir, there is a fire on the floor below. We’re evacuating everyone.”

The man still looks like he wants to argue, but a moment later the sound of sirens grows louder as help arrives on the scene and that seems to be enough to convince him to cooperate. The three tenants follow him up the stairs to the last floor. Two of the three doors are already open, the tenants looking out obviously wondering what all the noise is about. The woman and her grandson greet one of the two women, immediately filling them in on what’s going on. Shouto goes to the last door.

“She’s at work,” one of the women calls to him. “She lives alone. Except for a cat.”

Shouto nods his thanks for the information. “I’ll go in to get the cat. Do either of you have a window that faces the front of the building?”

The other woman raises her hand. “I do!”

“Please take everyone into your apartment, clear a space in front of the window if necessary and I’ll be there in just a moment.” Shouto instructs. He waits just a moment to make sure everyone is complying before he forces the last door open. The cat in question makes itself known immediately, rushing to the door crying for attention before it realizes he is not their owner. The cat turns tail and darts deeper into the apartment.

Cursing, Shouto uses ice to create a small blockade in the hall that leads to the bedroom and bathroom, limiting the cat’s escape routes as he darts after it, sliding across the hardwood floor leading into the hallway. He catches himself on the wall just as the cat skids to a halt before the ice, trying to turn quickly but the floor is more slippery than its accustomed to and Shouto manages to grab it as it struggles to find its footing. He gets a few heavy scratches across his arms for his trouble, and the cat does its best to escape his hold, but he manages to get it out of the apartment. He wishes he had his tool belt on him, where he might have something that could contain the cat better, and make it easier to transport, but even if the fire-resistant fabric had lasted this long, it wasn’t worth it to try and get back into his apartment for it.

He rejoins his neighbors in the other apartment. Along with the three from the first floor, there are the two women from this floor, one of whom clutches a still-sleeping baby to her chest. From the window he can see the ambulance and two fire engines that have already arrived. And based on the sounds in the distance, the police and at least one more ambulance would not be far behind. Someone offers to take the disgruntled cat from him as he throws open the window.

Smoke is billowing from a window on a lower floor, obscuring his line of sight for a moment as the winds shift. Shouto swears under his breath, he can feel his neighbors growing anxious behind him, but he knows he needs a clear shot of the ground for this to work. It takes a few minutes for the view to clear enough for him to see a good landing place. By then a few people from the lower floors have started to evacuate, and he can see the first responders meeting them as they come out. He can’t tell from here if Midoriya is with them yet, though he has a feeling the answer is no.

Pushing his concerns aside for the moment, Shouto takes a deep breath to focus. Even after all these years of playing catch up, he still has a much better control of his right side than his left, but the overheated air is already putting a strain on his right side as it keeps his body cool. He creates an ice ramp, or perhaps more accurately a slide, from the window to the ground besides one of the fire engines. It’s as far as he dares to go to keep the slide from being too steep without also becoming too thin. He reinforces the part connected to the building and as much of the underside as he can from where he is to keep the fire from melting it down.

He turns back to his gathered neighbors. The adults gathered look unsure at best, if not down right afraid, but the young boy looks excited.

“It’ll be cold going down, but you should be perfectly safe,” Shouto promises. “Who’s first?”

Shouto helps the first woman up to the window. Once she is down safe, the woman with her baby goes, climbing up by herself first before Shouto hands the infant off to her. The young boy volunteers next before his grandmother can stop him, scrambling up to the window and then asking Shouto to hand the dog up to him. The older woman goes next, clutching the terrified cat tightly to her chest as she disappears down the slide.

Shouto waits until the older man safely reaches the bottom after her before he prepares to go down himself. Taking one last look back before he drops, he sees the smoke begin to curl around the edges of the apartment door.

The fire chief stops Shouto first once he’s down, thanking him for his help evacuating the civilians and asking about the conditions inside. Shouto gives as much information as he can about the fire and where it started. He ignores the concerned expression the chief gives him as he explains how it began. He knows it seems like an attack, and a targeted attack at that, but he doesn’t want to focus on it just yet. Eventually, the chief figures he’s gotten as much as from Shouto as he’s going to for the moment and sends him off towards the paramedics.

Shouto dodges them for the moment, finding the neighbors he helped down first to make sure everyone actually made it down unharmed. Everyone seems okay, the baby somehow still blissfully asleep and the young boy excitedly asks Shouto if he can go down his ice slide again some other time. One of the first responders found a carrying case for the cat until they could get ahold of its actual owner. He recognizes a few of the other neighbors gathered around from the lower floors. A few have shock blankets on and one person is perched in an ambulance with a paramedic attached to an oxygen machine, but there don’t seem to be any major injuries.

Midoriya is arguing with a paramedic, insisting someone else is in more pressing need of care when Shouto finally approaches one of the ambulances.

“What’s that saying about doctors being the worst patients?” Shouto asks.

Midoriya jumps, startled by his arrival, though he quick recovers from his shock to glare at Shouto.

The paramedic throws his hands up. “Entropy, please try and talk some sense into him. This is the fourth time he’s refused care.” The paramedic turns back to Midoriya and waves a warning finger at him. “I’m running out of other patients to look at.” He warns before storming off.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Shouto asks once they’re alone. Midoriya mostly looks okay, his glasses are missing and he’s a little sooty and disheveled, but Shouto figures everyone probably looks about the same in that regard.

“Nothing,” Midoriya starts to say as someone nearby loudly clears their throat over him. Midoriya scowls. “I think I might have landed on my hand funny earlier, but it’s fine, probably just sore.”

Shouto frowns. “You should at least have someone look at it, just in case.”

Midoriya opens his mouth to argue but a ringing phone cuts him off. He fumbles with his phone for a moment, struggling to pull it out of a pocket with his opposite hand. He winces as he finally pulls it out.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s a video call.” Midoriya doesn’t elaborate anymore. He shifts around before he answers, holding the phone up at an angle that keeps his arm and the ambulance mostly out of the camera. He pastes on a bright smile. “Hi, Eri.”

“Oh Izuku, are you okay? I heard you were involved in a fire. Are you injured? What happened?” Dr. Aizawa asks in a rush, her worried face fills the screen. Red eyes move quickly, obviously taking note of Midoriya’s disheveled apperance.

“I’m fine. Everyone’s fine. We’re not sure exactly how it started yet,” he lies. “But no one was hurt.”

“Where are you? I’ll go-”

“No,” Midoriya cuts her off. “I’m fine and I’ll come by the hospital later so you can check me over yourself if you’re really that worried, but I’m fine. And I want to make sure someone is keeping an eye out for Kou.”

“You think this has to do with her?” Dr. Aizawa asks, surprised.

“I’m not sure yet, I would just feel better if I knew there was extra security around her.”

Dr. Aizawa nods. “Okay, Izuku. I’ll make sure someone has an eye on her at all times. I’ll call you later to check up on you.” She says. “And I’ll know if you don’t let the paramedics check on you so don’t even try it this time.” The call ends before Midoriya can refute her last statement.

“I’m supposed to be taking the next shift on the hospital,” Shouto realizes. “I still had another two hours before my shift began when you arrived, but I should let someone know.”

Midoriya offers Shouto his phone. Before Shouto can step away, the paramedic returns with his arms crossed.

“Ready to cooperate?”

Midoriya looks miserably over his shoulder at Shouto but lets the paramedic force him into a seat.

Shouto calls Momo on her private number.

“This is Creati.” Momo answers stiffly after a single ring.

“Momo, it’s Shouto. My phone is…I don’t have my phone right now. There was just a fire-”

“At your apartment building. I know I just got the alert. Are you okay? You were still home, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m fine. No one was injured, but they’re still putting out the fire and I’m pretty sure my apartment is gone. It started there.”

Momo takes a long time to reply. “Your quirk?” She finally asks, but she sounds like she already knows the answer.

“No. I think…It seems crazy, but…” Shouto hesitates. He lives on the third floor, but crazier things have probably happened to him. “I think someone threw something through my window to start it.”

Momo curses under her breath. “I was afraid of that. You haven’t heard from anyone else, yet, have you? There was another attack, across town. Not a fire, but a building came down. A few civilians were hurt, and…”

Shouto tries not to lose his patience with Momo as she hesitates.

Finally she sighs. “The latest report from the police just came over the radio. Mr. Smith was one of the only heroes in the area. He was severely injured while helping trapped civilians. Paramedics rushed him to the hospital a few minutes ago. No one’s sure of his status yet.”

“Fuck.” Midoriya was right. “This is about Kou. The girl from before you have to-”

“I know your schedule, Shouto.” Momo interrupts. “As soon as I got the alert I let them know you might have been targeted. Someone has already been assigned to your guard shift and they’ve added extra security to the hospital.”

Shouto feels himself relax for the first time since the fire began. If there’s one thing he can count on, it’s Momo to be on top of things. “Thank you.”

Momo replies with a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “Is there anything else I can do for you right now? Do you need anyone else at the scene?”

“No, everything seems pretty well in hand for now. But if you could let my mother and sister know, that would help. They’ll see it on the news eventually, but even if my phone survived the fire it will probably be a while before I can get it to contact them myself.”

“Of course, I’ll make sure they know you’re alright. Can I contact you on this number again?”

Shouto glances back at Midoriya. He’s, miraculously, still sitting in the ambulance doors letting the paramedic wrap his hand, but he also managed to call over one of the firefighters to discuss something about the attack. “Yeah, you can use this number again.”

“Let me know when you learn something more.”

“I will.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay, Shouto.” Momo says just before she ends the call.

Me too, Shouto thinks, looking around at all the people gathered in front of the apartment. He and Midoriya had managed to get everyone out, but if Shouto had been alone he might not have been quick enough. Hell, if he hadn’t been answering the door at just the right time, he might not have been able to save anyone at all. He would probably be right beside Mr. Smith in the hospital. I just wish it could be said for everyone.

Shouto returns to the ambulance, passing the cell back to Midoriya. Midoriya takes one look at his face and knows.

“You heard about Mr. Smith too?”

Shouto nods. “Creati already sent word to the hospital for extra security and for someone to cover my shift watching Kou.”

Midoriya cracks a small smile. Other than the one he wore to briefly pacify Dr. Aizawa, it’s the first smile Shouto thinks he’s seen from him all day. And bizarrely, it puts him at ease for a moment, lifting some of the weight of the attack.

“Remind me to send her a huge thank you gift when we finally get out of here,” Midoriya says, and even though Momo is just doing her job in her own efficient, overachiever way, he knows Midoriya is serious.

Midoriya moves over, offering the extra space for Shouto to sit down. Another paramedic almost immediately descends on them, finally checking Shouto over for shock, smoke inhalation, over-extended quirk usage, and other injuries. Other than the handful of cat scratches that they clean and bandage, he comes out with a clean bill of health. Midoriya is comparing their injuries, complaining that his “bruised wrist” didn’t need more bandaging than Shouto’s cuts, but while his tone is light, his eyes keep focusing on something in the distance, his attention obviously not on their conversation. Shouto can practically hear the wheels turning in his head as he thinks.

The fire chief eventually joins them as the fire dies down and more of the firefighters exit the building for the last time. “Thank you again, Entropy, for your help evacuating tenants before we arrived. And…Midoriya, was it?”

“Dr. Midoriya,” Shouto corrects when Midoriya simply nods. Midoriya elbows him in the side, but Shouto ignores the jab.

“Dr. Midoriya, thank you for your help as well. That was very brave of you. A number of the tenants I’ve spoken with were extremely grateful for your assistance.”

Midoriya shrugs a shoulder, as if he had truly done nothing of note. “I’m just glad I was in the right place to help, at the right time.”

“Do we know anything else about the fire yet? Or the building?” Shouto asks.

“The fire is mostly out, we just have a few more people inside checking for any hidden fires or areas that weren’t extinguished completely the first time. As for the building…it will take a little while longer to properly assess all the damage but the third floor where it started, and the second and fourth floors, took the most damage. At the very least it will be a day or two before it’s safe for the tenants to move between the floors to get their things.” The chief explains.

Shouto expected about as much, honestly he was prepared to hear worse, but it doesn’t make it easier. “Thank you for letting us know.”

The chief nods. “Of course.”

Shouto turns back to Midoriya as the chief walks away. “Can I borrow your phone one more time?”

Midoriya politely, but unnecessarily, turns away as Shouto crafts a text to Momo.

the tenants will b displaced for at least a few days. can we do smthing abt accommodations for them?

It only takes Momo a few seconds to reply.

Of course. Send me the number of people and their contact information and I’ll take care of everything.

A second text comes in almost immediately.

Will you need something too? You could always stay with me and Kyouka. Or I’m sure your mother would be happy to have you for a few days.

Shouto stares at the message for a moment. “Shit.” He hadn’t been thinking about himself. Obviously he couldn’t stay in his apartment. But he wouldn’t want to be housed anywhere near his neighbors, in case whoever attacked tried again. But that would put his friends, or family, in the same line of risk.

“What’s wrong?” Midoriya finally turns back, looking over Shouto’s shoulder. “Was there another attack?”

Shouto shakes his head. “No, sorry to worry you. Momo just reminded me I’ll need a place to stay for a while. I don’t want to risk a hotel or some public housing, if they try to attack again…”

Midoriya doesn’t need him to finish his thought before he nods in understanding. “And you don’t want to stay with your friends or family for the same reason. There’s too much of a risk they will try to target you again.”

Shouto groans, running a hand over his face. Maybe Midoriya was onto something with all his concerns about ‘privacy and self-preservation.’

“Stay with me.”

Shouto’s head shoots up. He thinks he had to have misheard, but the serious expression on Midoriya’s face suggests otherwise.

“What?”

“You can stay with me. No, you should stay with me.”

Shouto feels like he was just transported to a parallel universe. He was actually fairly confident his role as the only one to suggest ridiculous things in this newly-started relationship was already established.

“I-No. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You’re not asking, I’m insisting.”

Shouto ignores him. “I can stay in the dorms at the agency.”

Midoriya rolls his eyes. “That’s an extremely short term solution, at best. And a huge risk. If these villains have kept close enough tabs on you to find your personal apartment and attack it, it would be child’s play to figure out you were staying in your office, with a publicly available address, and target it too.”

“You would still be at risk,” Shouto says, baffled as to how Midoriya somehow managed to miss that very important fact. “The same way Momo and Kyouka or my family would be, I can’t put you in that position.”

“Todoroki,” Midoriya says, deadly serious. “You are not a very social hero. It is common knowledge who you are close enough with to consider a friend. And your family has been in the spotlight for years. Staying with any of them is an obvious and dangerous choice. I’m a nobody. No one knows me, no one knows you know me. Also my house is…private, secluded. Even if someone does eventually figure out you’re there, it will take much longer than any of the other places. Enough time that we can come up with another plan.”

Midoriya reaches over and takes the cell out of his hands. “Now, unless you have a more convincing argument, I will text…” he looks at the phone for a long moment as he trails off. Shouto has no idea how he can casually insist on Shouto staying with him and in the same breath be visibly uncomfortable texting a different hero. “I will text…Creati and tell her you have a place to stay. You should go collect everyone else’s information for her.”

Shouto stares at Midoriya in disbelief while he pointedly ignores him and struggles to craft a text to Momo. He only finally moves when Midoriya all but shoves him off the ambulance step, claiming to be unable to type while he was being watched.

“I…can’t make sense of you,” Shouto finally admits. Midoriya has baffled him basically since the moment they met and he’s beginning to think he might never fully understand him.

Midoriya looks up from his phone with a curious expression, as if surprised by Shouto’s admission, before it transforms into a smile Shouto has never seen before, but that he wants to pull from him again and again.

“I like to think that’s just a part of my charm.”

#bnha #mha #tddk #tododeku #tododeku big bang 2021 #midoriya izuku #todorki shouto #fic #rita writes #7.16.21 #fic: reckless good

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ayamari-no-goshi · 4 years ago

Text

Verboten 14 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: being attacked at home

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 14

“Well, at least we know your parents could hire him to clean their ceilings if he stays stuck up there.”

“You’re not helping, Tucker,” Danny snapped at him from his spot on the ceiling.

More amused than surprised anymore, he just let Sam continue to try to help Danny change back to his human form while he worked on his own project. When Sam messaged him earlier that there was an issue, he hadn’t expected to walk into Sam’s room and find Danny, in all his ghostly glory, sitting cross-legged on the ceiling above Sam’s bed and having a panic attack. After taking in the absurdity of the situation, he tried for several minutes to help Sam somehow get him down. When all rescue attempts failed, mostly because Danny couldn’t seem to hold on to anything they threw at him, Sam moved to a different tactic. She hoped getting him to relax would somehow help.

Since that wasn’t his forte, Tucker decided his way of helping would be to finish reviewing the information he got from Plasmius while making comments about his friend’s predicament. Although he knew the digs annoyed Danny and Sam, he needed to do it for his own sanity.

Up until this point, Tucker really hadn’t registered the paranormal as being truly real. Sure, they did get abducted by a crazed ghost and then attacked by an even crazier ghost, but the more time passed without a ghostly incident, he had almost rationalized it as some stress induced hallucination. Almost being the key word. He knew his best friend had been fundamentally changed by the event, but other than the freak out at school and his now permanently chilly skin, Danny hadn’t done anything ghostly until now. Speaking of which…

“How exactly did you end up like this?” he questioned moments before Danny finally fell from the ceiling and landed face first on Sam’s bed. “You okay, dude?”

“More okay then I was when I was stuck on the ceiling,” he sighed as moved himself to the edge of the bed. His unnatural green eyes scanned the room as if searching for something. “I’m like this because of Plasmius.”

“Wait, wait? That’s a pretty big thing to neglect to mention.”

“I’m sorry I got distracted by discovering I was walking around in my ghost form or whatever you want to call it.”

“Don’t antagonize him, Tucker. That seems to make things worse,” Sam scolded as she pointed at Danny, who started to float again. “See? But that is pretty important.”

Danny huffed as he experimentally shifted, making it look like he was just lying on his stomach… in mid-air. Seemingly alright with the position, probably because he was only about a foot above the bed, he continued. “Look, I was planning on immediately telling you guys as soon as Tucker arrived, but I panicked when I realized I couldn’t change back. But since that doesn’t seem to want to change any time soon, I guess I just explain what happened.”

Once Danny was done, Tucker let out a whistle. “That’s some story. Glad he let you go, but it’s really creepy that he can just pluck you into that other world when he wants.”

“Why was he here in the first place?” Sam asked as she worked up enough courage to sit near where Danny was still floating. “That’s what’s bugging me about it. Was he just really here for information?”

“That’s what I don’t get either. Whoa! I’d like it if my body would make up… its mind?” As Danny fell onto the bed once again, a blinding light suddenly washed over him. Once it faded, he was back in his human form. “Well, at least that fixes that problem for now.”

Deciding not to comment on his friend’s obvious relief, Tucker somewhat changed the direction of the conversation. “At least Plasmius confirmed he’s interested in Vlad Master’s companies for something nefarious. Most of what I’ve gotten so far on that data are files on different employees.”

Danny’s eyes lit up at the statement. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Vlad’s in town.”

“That’s convenient,” Sam dryly stated after she shared a look with Tucker. “Why’s he here?”

“Apparently, when my parents asked him for help getting some information, he decided he needed to be directly involved. He was visiting when I got up.” He glanced down and wrung his hands before adding, “But he seemed really off today.”

“Off how?”

“He gave me literal chills. I mean, if I think about it, that’s happened when ghosts were around, but not people. He also seemed off… like he was a different person.”

Unnerved, Tucker placed his PDA on Sam’s desk. “I hate to bring this up, but didn’t you say that thing that attacked you was able to change how it looked?”

Danny’s eyes widened briefly before he shook his head. “I… I don’t think that’s it. It was close, but there was still something off about how it looked. It also didn’t feel the same… the chill was different. Vlad felt… Vlad felt like Plasmius but not as strong? I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You mentioned that chill before when you freaked out because of Maura… do you think you can sense other ghosts now?” Tucker felt himself grin despite the situation. “I mean, cuz if you can, that’s really useful. I’d like to be able to stay on the complete other side of the city from where that creepy thing is.”

“Maybe? I certainly didn’t notice anything like it when we were trapped or escaping from Plasmius… but he did say something about how that’s possible.” A thoughtful expression briefly crossed his face, until he gave a wry grin. “Fat load of good it does if it only goes off when something is like ten feet away.”

“Darn. Well, still let me know if you notice anything else weird. I’d like a head start over anything that might harm these good looks.”

xxx

After their initial discussion of what happened, the rest of the time was spent seeing if Danny could get any sort of control over his ghost form. It took a while, but he did manage to find the preverbal trigger for the change. Via a couple hours under Sam’s Spartan-equse training, he was finally able to change to and from on command. While he hoped he’d have a chance to work on more of his abilities, it was definitely a success.’

Around dinner, he and Tucker left Sam’s and headed to their own respective houses. While his parents were relieved to see him before sundown, he couldn’t return the feeling. Vlad was still in the house. According to his parents, the businessman would be staying with them in the guest room for a while.

“A while? How long’s a ‘while’?” he questioned as he looked for something to drink in the fridge.

“Well, that’s up to Vlad,” his mother replied as she added a few shakes of something to what smelled like stew. Vlad and his father were still in the lab. “While he’s not entirely certain how long he will be able to remain away from his businesses, he’s hoping to be able to stay for a couple weeks.”

Unhappy with that answer, Danny grabbed his drink and disappeared into his bedroom. If he was honest, he wanted to practice more with his abilities. It would be a shame not to with how much progress he made earlier, but he wasn’t exactly certain what tools his dad and Vlad might be using. Some of them where supposedly able to detect differences in energy levels. Without knowing the specifics of his abilities, he really didn’t want to clue them in.

Actually, was he ever going to tell his parents? That was a good question. Right now, when he didn’t have much control or understanding over anything, it didn’t seem like a good idea. Perhaps down the road? Maybe. Actually, maybe they might have so information regarding what happened to him.

A little later, his parents called him down for dinner. For him, it was a relatively normal affair, save for the chills Vlad kept giving him. Seriously, what was up with that? Vlad had been a fixture in his life for years, and there was never an issue before. Maybe Plasmius somehow influenced him or something? He guessed it was possible. There were legends about ghosts doing stuff like that, but he had no idea how to even begin figuring that out.

After dinner, he once again retreated to his room. Frustrated, he decided a few hours of Doomed would be a good distraction from everything.

…

Right around three am, something woke Danny. Rubbing his eyes, he realized he fell asleep gaming. Stretching, he turned off the game before checking one of his drawers for clean pjs. Deciding it wasn’t worth it, he headed to his bed only to stop when his breath misted in front of him.

Now wide awake, he stopped and listened. There were the normal sounds of the furnace and his dad’s snores. Wait, the furnace? Then why could he see his breath a moment ago? Spooked, he opened his door as quietly as possible and stuck his head out into the hallway.

Nothing seemed out of place. No one was in the hall. There was no light from his parents’ room or the spare bedroom Vlad was using. Deciding something still didn’t seem right, he crept down the hall and peaked down the stairs.

Eyes, dark eyes with a faint red glow, peaked out at him from the darkness of the living room. Knowing whatever it was saw him, he panicked and ran towards his parents’ room. “Mom! Dad! There’s something in the house!” he yelled as he frantically beat on the locked door. Of course it was one of those nights.

“Oh my god, what is that thing?” Vlad’s voice and the growl that followed forced his attention to the staircase. The sickly gray color of its skin made it somehow stand out in the shadows. The creature, the same one Danny encountered in the alleyway, stood in all its horrible glory at the top of the stairs. Its face was twisted in a grotesque snarl, and it swayed slightly. With an uneasy jolt, Danny realized the thing seemed to be debating who to go after first.

At the sound of the lock on his parents’ door turning, the thing lunged forward. Danny barely had time to register his mother pulling him into the room while his father roared, “Eat this!”

The familiar whine of one of his parents’ blasters powering up was followed by a blinding green blast and then another. As his parents decided to chase the thing, he curled up behind the door. The sounds of the blasts and something else, something unnatural, crashing into furniture could be heard from the downstairs.

How did that thing get in the house? Better yet, how did it find him? It was his fault. He needed to help, but what could he do? He had no ability to fight against it. Heck, he still didn’t know what it was other than dangerous and evil.

When the sounds in the downstairs stopped, he held his breath and waited. A sigh of relief escaped him when his mother called for him and Vlad. Not caring he was a teenager and by default hated hugs from family members, raced to his mother’s side and embraced her. Understanding he was frightened, she rubbed his back and reassured him she was fine.

“Sorry to interrupt,” the light snapped on to reveal blast marks, destroyed furniture, and Vlad appraising the scene from the bottom step, “but what exactly was that thing? Should I contact the police?”

Embarrassed someone saw him, Danny quickly let go and retreated a few steps. His mother smiled at him before replying, “It’s already been taken care of.” She pointed to what Danny recognized as the button of one of the alarm systems; it was flashing. “Jack’s checking the perimeter to make sure that thing is gone. In the meantime, I’m going to make us hot chocolate.”

“But what if that thing comes back? Surely Jack wouldn’t just leave you alone.”

She flashed him a grin as she held up a miniature blaster. “Thank you for being concerned, but I’m actually the better shot between the two of us.”

After glancing at Vlad, who seemed both dumbfounded and proud, Danny hurried into the kitchen after his mother. He really didn’t want to leave her side if that thing came back.

“Danny,” his mother stated after they were seated at the kitchen table with hot chocolate in hand, “be honest with me, was that the same thing you saw in the alleyway?”

He took a sip of his drink before answering her. “I… I think so. I mean, I’m not exactly sure if it was the same thing or not, but it looked similar.”

“You’re telling me that’s the thing you’re researching?” Vlad sounded surprised, but Danny noticed how tightly he gripped his mug. Why did he seem angry? “That thing was an abomination.”

His mother nodded. “While there are some stories regarding things like that in folklore, most of the recent ones seem to be more fiction than fact, so Jack and I tended to disregard them.” She sent him an apologetic smile, “However, with Danny’s report, we decided to look into it and didn’t like what we found. That’s why we reached out because we needed to get the resources to verify the data.”

“What do you mean you didn’t like what you found?” His whole body felt icy again, but this time, it seemed to be from fear and not some paranormal creature.

“I want to verify something with the officers,” she glanced at the clock on the wall before muttering, “when they finally get here first. However, if Jack didn’t manage to get it, I’m not sure if it’ll come back or not. We definitely wounded it,” she pointed to a spot in the living room where something wet, dark, and faintly glowing could be seen, “but I don’t know if that was enough to ward it off or if it’s vengeful enough to return.”

“But why was it here?”

“If I may?” Vlad glanced at his mother, who nodded. “If it was in fact the same creature Daniel saw, it may have come for him, or, it simply could have been drawn to the house. Forgive me, but you do have a lot of ectoplasm and other potential energy sources on hand.”

“Hmm… we have been meaning to update our storage devices. That can easily be done, but if Danny is a target, that would be much harder to fix.” His mother reached out and gently put her hand on his. “Sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way, but your father and I are worried you might have been changed because of your disappearances.”

That was putting it lightly, he ruefully thought. However, instead of agreeing, he asked her to explain what she meant.

“Well, you know we theorized you temporarily slipped into a different dimension when you were younger? It’s possible that somehow altered you. Pass reports of those ‘spirited away’ often report the person was somehow changed. Since before you seemed fine, save for the times we caught you staring as if you saw something we couldn’t, we figured you may have developed a sensitivity to the paranormal.”

He nodded. That made sense. Although, he was embarrassed his parents picked up on how he sometimes saw those shadows. Apparently he didn’t do nearly as good of a job as he thought at keeping that a secret.

His mother bit her lip before continuing. “But, this past time… something changed. I know you told the police you were abducted by a person, but the complete disappearance and then reappearance… and that none of you who disappeared could be tracked… and the injuries… and how that poor boy was found… it never made sense it was a human. And when you came back, the changes in your vitals, we knew there was something more to it. You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready,” she added when she noticed his panicked expression, “but whatever changed might have made you something like beacon to creatures of other worlds.”

His mouth felt dry. His parents actually suspected there was something off about him, and they just accepted it? Should he tell them how much he really changed? No, Vlad was in the house. He didn’t need to know anything about it. However, he could start probing for some of the answers he wanted. “If… if I have changed, how…?”

“We’re not exactly sure what will happen in the long run,” she replied as she picked up on his train of questioning. “Old accounts vary, and it’s difficult distinguishing fact and legend. Anyways, Danny I just want to verify the thing that attacked us tonight and whoever abducted you on the camping trip are not the same thing.”

He violently shook his head. “No, they’re completely different…”He debated with himself for a moment. Should he tell her about Plasmius appearing? Or the thing Clockwork discovered? Or the horde that attacked Sam, Tucker, and their classmates on the way back? “At least, whoever took me, Sam, and Tucker was completely different. I don’t know what grabbed the others.” That was true enough.

Vlad remained unusually quiet during the exchange, but unlike other times where he seemed disinterested or involved, this time it seemed like he was mulling over something. Also, Danny hadn’t missed the way his eyes narrowed when he added on the information about the camping abduction.

A knock at the door spooked everyone. They turned to see his dad opening the door followed by a couple police officers. “I found the police!” he said with a grin. “They thought it was another false alarm.”

“False alarm? False alarm?” His mother stood and marched over to the officers who were taking stock of the damage with wide eyes. “My family gets attacked, and you have the nerve to think it was a false alarm? If my husband and I didn’t have the means to defend ourselves, we would have been killed!”

Danny just sighed and continued sipping his drink as he watched his mother scold the officers. His dad joined him. Both of them knew it was better to let her get it out of her system than to try to get involved. Besides, he’d probably never get to see police officers get chewed out like that ever again. Now if only he had some popcorn.

====

Note: if it hadn’t been implied earlier, Maddie and Jack are going to be involved/decent parents in this fic. It makes sense with how this story is laid out – their son has gone mysteriously missing 3 times. They try to keep an eye on him.

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gyllenhaalstories · 3 years ago

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I read your tags under the last post and you did that as a teen? Thats messed up

hi anon! i don't know what's the tone of your question, whether you think it's messed up i was doing it and now i'm protecting minors from repeating the same bad experiences and mistakes or whether me being talked/convinced into writing and consuming written erotica was messed up. i'll clarify some things and put them under the read more to avoid triggering anybody.

tw: underage sexual activities, grooming, manipulation.

i've mentioned it a few times, but long before i wrote fanfictions, i was roleplaying. by roleplaying, i mean creating characters or writing as characters, basically writing fanfiction but with someone or multiple writing partners at a time. i was 11 or 12 when i started on a french platform and interacted with god knows who. i was around 13-14 when i started roleplaying on facebook and on tumblr. it was not super uncommon for minors and teenagers to do this, especially on facebook. we were a bunch of lonely antisocial teenagers living high school drama both in real life and online. there was massive amounts of lies, manipulation, bullying and so on. but to many, including me, it was the only way to make "friends", some were genuine friendships others were absolutely terrible. i first wrote smut in a roleplay on facebook with someone who was finishing college (my education system is different from america, college means high school and university and even pre-university programs and i could only assume it was the same for her). we wrote our stuff, she was very rude about my typos and my limited vocabulary but i did not question too much out of it, i just thought she was smarter (again because i assumed she was the same age as me). eventually, we got into writing smut. i was aware of the "fading to black" technique, which is what you do when you skip from a scene that gets heated to what happens after the action and in my reply, i faded to black. she asked me to rewrite it, she wanted to do the sex scene because it was "important for character development", it wasn't, she just needed something to satisfy whatever the fuck she needed to satisfy. now i can look back and understand that, but back then i had no idea. so we wrote that scene. the entire time i felt extremely uncomfortable and i kept apologizing and delaying my reply until she completely disappeared on me and blocked my account, seemingly because i wasn't fun to write with anymore.

another facebook experience occured a year or two later. i was 15, i've had some rough encounters with other rpers who held a big place in my personal life too so i was very vulnerable. i came across this girl who never told me anything regarding her age and her personal life, while constantly asking me questions about mine. we wrote this couple, she constantly forced me into writing smut. i'd suggest new date ideas, new plot twists, new settings, anything just to avoid writing sex scenes for the 5th time in the same day. she told me "you'll like it, you'll get better at it when you practice, i'll tell you how it works, it's gonna make you feel good too". so i kept writing with her, i had no other friend at that time so i thought that if i did what she demanded me to do to, she'd stick around and like me. we wrote sex scene after sex scene, we added pregnancy plots, a forced pregnancy even, i was incredibly uncomfortable. i made a different account, i tried to escape her but i couldn't. she had around 5 or 6 accounts where she would go around and find young partners to write with. she had a friend who did the same. there was nowhere to go. i eventually ghosted the previous account we wrote on together and focused on my new character. she was gaining a bit of traction, i met someone there too. we became friends instantly. i was 16 when this new person and i decided to talk more "out of character". we got to know each other, we became best friends and we still are today. we were writing so many different plots and relationships, but they were always respectful of the boundaries we both set. when i turned 18, she finally brought up this previous person who manipulated me into writing smut. she said she had met her, years before me. she was, too, talked into writing sex when she was around my age. we both found out this other person was a 35 years-old woman, a creep, who hunted down our roleplay community to write smut with us, teens and kids. she made us believe it was okay, that she'd "teach us the way". she'd gaslight you and manipulate you into getting what she wanted. there were stories going around that were even crazier than mine. i was manipulated into writing sex with someone twice my age when i was still a teenager. for the longest time, i avoided writing smut, even in roleplays. it took me years to work the courage to write smut again, to develop sex headcanons for my characters in roleplays. i wrote smut with my best friend, whom i trust with my whole life, once or twice and she always insisted we stopped if i were uncomfortable until we just stopped altogether and focused on headcanons and other fluffy ideas rather than fully fleshed out written erotica.

i was reading smut, i was consuming porn, i was on tumblr this whole time and that was before the grand purge of adult material. it was different, in a way, because i was choosing to consume such things. but still. i was like 14 and seeing dicks and pussies out in the wild on tumblr. i had no interest in relationships, in dating, in sex even and i was seeing all of this. i was learning that if you wanted others to desire you, you had to be like the girls on porn videos, you had to do all kinds of crazy things and let (mostly) men take advantage of you because that's hot.

all of that just to say...

IT FUCKS YOU UP. it just fucks you up. it makes you think you're not normal, it makes you think you're weak, you're immature, you're just not cool enough. it makes you think you owe sexual favours to other people. it makes you think your sexual desires are just something people can play with so they can get what they want. i've come a long way. i've learned about my own sexuality a lot. i'm still very insecure in real life, but this blog has allowed me to explore my own desires and fantasies in a safe way, following my own boundaries. it might not seem like much to you. but it was a lot to me. i was hiding this from everybody, my only escape from real life was becoming as toxic as real life itself. the lines were blurred between online and reality. i became scared of people. i thought they were all like the other girls who were full on adults taking advantage of KIDS to write sex. they didn't care if it sucked, they got off from it.

being a blog that is 18+ is not just for aesthetic. it's not just to be cool and act like we're more mature. IT'S A SAFETY FOR BOTH US, AND YOU. we want to avoid that minors fall into traps and rabbit holes. we want to avoid minors from constructing their sexualities around what is clearly fake. FAN FICTION IS FICTION but it can impact your real life, especially when you're young and unexperienced.

i am a firm believer that 18/21 and other ages of consent are NOT magic numbers. you don't suddenly become "mature" at the second you turn 18. they are just minimum age requirements that can allow both you and us some sort of safety. you can be 15 and sexually experienced. you can be a 35 years-old virgin and more sexually experienced than your average person. but that doesn't mean you can't respect other people's boundaries and lurk on their blog while being a minor. you are exposing yourself to things you shouldn't be exposed to at your age.

PROTECT YOURSELF. PROTECT OTHERS. RESPECT EVERYBODY'S BOUNDARIES.

#gyllenhaalstories answers.

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laurieteddy · 5 years ago

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tale of the field | beth march x reader

Description: you and Beth make your way to the field to have a picnic together. (gender neutral reader x beth march)

Request: anon requested simply something beth x reader

Wanrings: none

Word count: 2,066

A/N: this is my first ever Little Women fic, please let me know what you think! I dearly love Beth and I hope I did well :) also I’m on mobile so sorry if the post is weird/long

Requests are open!

Beth was the most captivating person you had ever met. She was such a caring and loving person, always glad to give a helping hand and kind word. She had such a tender and compassionate demeanor about her. It was as if she could calm any storm with the most gentle of words, something quite amazing. She did seem to put others before herself more often than not though. You were always there to put her first, as she at times would allow herself to slip in order to help other people.

Growing up around the March family and Laurie, you spent most of your days with Beth, finding her company to be your favorite by far. You would do a variety of things together. Cooking, gardening, acting out plays with her sisters, miserably failing when she would try teaching you how to play piano. Name anything and you have done it or will in the future. Both of you loved every minute of it. Jo often teased that you should mind how much time you spent together because might become too much alike.

“I couldn’t stand another Beth.” She’d joke.

This didn’t stop you of course, if anything it pushed you closer. Neither of you really enjoyed anyone else’s company as much as each other’s, why not do it as often as you could? So together you were, going on adventures of all sorts. From going to the market to exploring the woods, you would make anything an adventure. Today your adventure was going on a picnic in a field.

The sun was out and a light breeze was in the air, it was perfect weather for your plans. A smile was on your face as you entered the March home, much like your own, and quickly you made your way to the kitchen where you could hear Beth scorning Amy for trying to steal the bread. It felt like home to all who entered and they felt like family that you were ever so close to.

“Amy March, you keep your grubby paws off of my delicious lunch,” you teased with a grin.

Amy jumped at the sound of your voice, soon after making her way over to you when she recognized you.

“Oh, y/n, you’re here!” She chirped, “Don’t you look wonderful today.”

You raised a brow, “No reason to suck up, you aren’t going this time.”

Beth let out a small giggle, continuing to pack her picnic basket. Amy stomped her foot and was clearly upset at what you said. You knew she would want to go and that she had likely been bothering Beth and Marmee about it all week. Typically you wouldn’t mind if she joined but it was nice to spend some time with just you and Beth, no one else, especially not Amy. You both loved her to death but she could be a handful at times.

“Why not?” Amy whined.

“Because Beth and I have had this planned for just the two of us for weeks now.” you explained.

“We have to go now, Amy. You can come with us next time, we promise.” Beth offered a small smile.

Amy was quick to decline, a frown on her face. “I want to go now!”

“I know you do,” you pat the top of her head with an exaggerated frown. “Here, if I give you some of the cookies I made will you settle for next time?”

Her eyes widened and a smile spread across her lips. “Yes!”

You handed her three cookies and off she went, skipping away with joy and calling out to Meg and Jo. You and Beth couldn’t help but laugh at the rather simple solution used to pay her off after days of begging. Amy wasn’t typically so easy to get off your back, you knew she’d beg and you also knew she’d cooperate with those cookies.

Beth shook her head at her sister’s antics, “How did you know to make her favorite cookie?”

“Because Amy always wants to tag along, I knew I could get her to listen with them.” You smiled, “And if I didn’t have to bribe her we would’ve had more cookies, it was a win win situation.”

She chuckled at your response, knowing you were absolutely right. Locking arms with Beth you started today’s adventure. You had been to the field many times, meaning thought no longer needed to be used when finding your way there. Often you’d come up with wild tales to share along the way, dramatically acting them out with whatever makeshift props could be found on the path. It became somewhat of an unspoken tradition, and the crazier the tale the better. Another game seemed to be paired with this.

If you happened upon anyone you were to pause, acting completely normal as you passed but breaking right back into the story once out of sight. These were simply silly games but they brought smiles to your faces, and they helped Beth to feel more comfortable doing such things where you could be caught goofing around.

Anything you could do to help Beth feel more comfortable you would do, especially when you had gone out away from home. While plenty of fun could be found close to home there was much to be had elsewhere and you didn’t want Beth to miss out. You always went out on her terms, never wanting to make her feel pressured. She easily found herself calm around you, knowing she could trust you and that you were someone who truly understood her. Both of you had only the best intentions and interest for one another, promising to always be there for one another.

Though maybe not when you were deep in your tales.

“Put your sword to rest, Margaret! It’s no use to you any longer.” You spoke with a strong voice, pointing your sword (a conveniently found and crooked stick) at her.

Beth slowly placed her own sword on the ground, raising her hands above her head as she stood. “Would you truly kill me, Adrian? You’re no killer, even at your worst.”

You pushed your stick towards her, “I would watch my mouth if I were you.”

Margaret and Adrian, your newfound names in this tale. They were deeply in love with one another, but being from opposing families that despised each other for generations made it nearly impossible for them to be together. Still, they tried. Their families were not happy about it and did what they needed to prevent the two from being together. Spreading slander, making them go at each other’s throats just like the rest of their relations.

“I only speak the truth,” she delivered her line stern but gentle. Reaching out she put a hand on your sword, lightly pushing it down to point the ground. “I know you loved me at least once upon a dream, and if that love still lingers as mine does for you… I find it hard to believe you might kill me.”

Your heart swelled as she stepped closer, something that wasn’t part of your game. Her words and actions were so soft spoken and delicate, catching you off guard and stumping you. Your character was to stab Beth’s, giving the tale a dramatic speech about Adrian’s grief and regret before they drew their own final breath, making for quite a dramatic ending. Something was telling you to go for a different and new ending, finding yourself unable to hurt Margaret as Beth played her so well.

Keeping your gaze on Beth’s you dropped your sword. “You were right, I could never kill you. How could I ever have even come so close as I did?”

Beth was a bit surprised by the drop of your sword, quickly going along with it though. She held her chin high and embraced you in a hug, what she believed Margaret may do in that time.

“All is well, my love.” Her fingers tangled themselves through your hair, “I understand, I had been as close.”

A blush creeped onto your cheeks, completely out of character for Adrian. You and Beth had hugged countless times before but never in the context of this tale, never in such a way more than friendship. You wrapped your arms around her, trying to fall back into character. To appear more heartbroken you let your body fall somewhat limp, hoping to mask your previous flustered feeling.

Beth held you closer, “I am here. I will forever be with you, my dearest Adrian.”

“I have missed your embrace so,” your fingers gripped tighter as your eyes squeezed shut. “But… I cannot ask you to stay, nor can I allow it.”

Unwantingly, you peeled yourself away from her, resting your hand on Beth’s cheek. Her eyebrows furrowed, showing a confusion in herself and Margaret.

“I love you,” you began, “and yet I have hurt you. I can never forgive myself for this.” Your thumb skimmed over her cheekbone and she rested her hand over your own. “It would be selfish of me to wish you to stay,” you smiled weakly, “and so I must leave you once more.”

She let out a gentle breath. You seemed to have exchanged postures, yourself now standing tall while Beth let her shoulders drop. You were holding each other in near silence and definite bliss. Beth realized, too, that you had never held one another in such a way. She kept the thought to herself, just as you had. A blush nearly came to her as well, which she was quick to hide by bowing her head which was a seemingly meaningless action.

“Stay or leave,” she removed your hand from her cheek, “I shall think nothing but fond and loving thoughts of you daily.”

Her lips planted a small kiss on the palm of your hand, covering your hand with her own once again as if to seal the kiss. With that she let your hand fall, looking up to you through her lashes one last time as Margaret. Your breath seemed to have caught in your throat and you found yourself speechless, completely overcome by the moment.

Beth March had just given you a kiss on the palm of your hand, a completely new kiss than you had ever received. A kiss that part of you longed for, even if you didn’t realize it until you received it. Such a simple, and likely aimless, thing. Maybe you were reading too much into the tale, possibly creating an overemphasized reality. Beth was doing the same, her shy nature doing her no favors that minute.

“What a way to end our tale,” you broke the silence. “I simply couldn’t kill Margaret after everything she had been through to be back with Adrian.”

Beth brushed her hair behind her ear, clearing her throat and straightening her posture. “It still gave us the dramatic ending we craved, Jo would approve.”

“Ah, yes. Jo does enjoy a good drama,” you were both quick to change the subject. “And I think she’d be impressed by our impromptu skills.”

Beginning to feel a pressure, your actions were meek. You both did your best not to let feelings stir, always offering to listen to one another talk about anything whenever needed. There were times like this, though, where you were both too afraid to address anything. How were you to confess your love for one another when you refused to first confess it to yourself?

“Look, the field.” Beth smiled, skipping ahead to find the perfect spot for your picnic.

You stayed in the field for nearly the rest of the day, returning home right as the sun had set. The evening wasn’t filled with many words, rather each other’s peaceful company as you rested your head on Beth’s shoulder.

On the way home you picked a flower for her, something you joked she could keep as a reminder of that day. You both laughed about it in the moment, saying there wasn’t anything very special about that day. It was another day in the field, that was all. But it wasn’t a reminder for what took place in the field, it was a reminder of what happened before you had arrived. Beth kept the flower, pressing it as soon as she got upstairs and keeping it in her private journal as a bookmark.

#beth march #little women #beth march x reader #beth x reader #little women fic #little women oneshot #little women 2019 #little women 2017 #little women 1994 #first fic #long post #little women x reader #little women imagine

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isiddthesloth · 5 years ago

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I Got a Feline, Chapter 3: A My Hero Academia Fanfic.

I’d really appreciate it if you could head over to AO3 and let me know what you think in the comments there! If not, I’ll post this entire chapter here. I’m working on chapter 4 now.

Were you going to walk casually in, as if there was nothing wrong? Or was Aizawa going to introduce you, just as he had introduced you as his assistant teacher on your first day? You shuddered at the thought. You didn’t want to stand in front of all of Class 1A again, being sized up by children much smaller and younger than you. You were fine when you were teaching them but answering questions about yourself was a different matter. Would they even be able to understand what you were saying in tiger-form, anyway?

Aizawa strolled in, casually tapping his lesson notes over his shoulder. He hadn’t even spoken to you once since you’d transformed. You wanted to chalk it up to him being sleepy and grumpy, but you knew that even before today, he had always been a little stand-offish.

“Don’t worry about it!” Hizashi had said over lunch during your first week. He leaned back dangerously in his chair. “I’ve known Shota for years. He’s always like that with everyone!”

You had cocked an eyebrow at Hizashi. “Uh huh. He doesn’t act that way with you,” you smirked, raising an eyebrow at him (a talent you were quite proud of).

Hizashi had chuckled. “It’s ‘cause I’ve battered him down with my irresistible charm!” he winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.

“I bet Aizawa wouldn’t call it that.”

Continue reading on AO3 or

Aizawa now stood behind the front podium, running through a couple of announcements. You waited nervously just outside the door. As soon as he’d finished, even before he could take the next breath, Tsu raised her hand. Before Aizawa called on her, she rushed forward.

“Aizawa-sensei, where is [Y/N]-sensei?” Tsu asked. Most of the girls nodded in agreement, chorusing, “Yeah, where are they?” “Shouldn’t they be here by now?” “What if they were attacked by a villain?” “What if they’re DEAD?” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 1A had the special ability to always make you laugh, even when you didn’t want to.

The panicked mumbles of the class grew louder and louder, and you looked at Aizawa with concern. “That’s enough!” His eyes flashed and all the students immediately settled down.

“[Y/N]-sensei had a quirk-related incident earlier today.” Before any of the kids could interrupt him with more questions, Aizawa continued. “They will be remaining in this form temporarily.”

You took that as your cue to enter. For a moment, there was only a shocked silence. Then, all of a sudden, there was an uproar. Many students almost jumped out of their seats (they had the good sense to not actually leave them; Aizawa already looked more than slightly annoyed).

You tried to give the class a small smile, even as most of the kids began shouting questions, some of them even lifting out of their chairs with their hands raised.

“That’s so AWESOME!” Kaminari yelled. Mineta fainted and fell out of his chair (you rolled your eyes at that). Bakugo and Todoroki looked unimpressed and a little bored. Midoriya immediately pulled out his notebook, looked at you, then frantically wrote, looked back at you, and then took more notes. Black Shadow cowered behind Tokoyami.

Oh yeah, birds are afraid of cats. You would have to be careful not to frighten Tokoyami too much. You weren’t the type of teacher who terrorized their students.

“[Y/N]-sensei still have their earrings! How many do you have?” Sero yelled. Embarrassed, you flattened your ears against your head.

Aizawa’s eyes flashed again, and the class settled down for a moment. He’s going to tire himself out if he keeps using his quirk like that, you thought.

“[Y/N]-sensei, please proceed to the back of the room, as you are usually stationed.” You nodded and began the excruciatingly slow walk to the back of the classroom, every students’ eyes on you (except Mineta; he was still on the floor).

“Midoriya, please take Mineta to Recovery Girl-san’s office,” Aizawa instructed. Midoriya and Mineta were seatmates. You were glad Aizawa didn’t ask Yaoyorozu. Knowing Mineta, he would suddenly regain conscious all of a sudden and try to pull something on Momo.

Tenya Iida immediately stood up, hand raised high into the air. “Aizawa-sensei, please allow me to escort Mineta. As class representative, it is my duty to ensure the well-being of the class.” Minoriya nodded in agreement; he definitely wanted to stay and continue taking notes.

“Oh mon!” Aoyama cried, back of his hand dramatically resting on his forehead. “Whatever shall we do? Our beloved sensei!” This exclamation gave the rest of the class the opportunity to start a ruckus once more.

“But they’re so cute!” Ochaco squealed, eyes shut tightly, fists clenched under her chin. Her legs swung back and forth, as though she was in overload from cuteness.

“I think this is wicked cool,” Jiro said, casually lounging backwards in her seat, twirling her earphones around one finger.

“I agree!” Mina said. “I want to be an animal too! Which one would I be?”

As you continued to the back, you were passing by Koda when he leaned out of his seat towards you. “Are you all right, sensei?” You nodded and growled in response.

“That’s good to hear,” Koda said. Oh wait! Koda’s quirk is AniVoice! Maybe I can communicate with him?

“Koda, can you understand me?” you asked in.

“Of course, sensei.” You responded by jumping lightly in excitement. Wait, you thought again. I can’t use Koda as a translator. Your face fell a little. But this was the first time Koda had ever directly spoken to you! He was usually so shy and quiet, you had a difficult time getting to know him. Looks like he felt more comfortable talking to you in your animal form. As an instructor, you couldn’t use Koda’s Quirk to help you for personal reasons, no matter how frustrating your missing ability to communicate was. But maybe this could be an opportunity to bring him out of his hard shell!

“Thank you for asking, Koda. If you need help with anything, let me know. I will still do my best as your teacher.” You said to him. He smiled sweetly at you. Progress!

You passed by Kirishima’s seat, and he too leaned out of his chair. “You’re so soft!” he squealed, rubbing the top of your head. It felt really nice, especially as the itching from earlier today hadn’t completely subsided yet.

“Keep your hands to yourself, Crazy Hair!” Bakugo yelled, throwing his workbook at Kirishima, who dodged it easily. Eijiro started scratching underneath your chin, and you started thumping your tail against the floor in happiness.

Aizawa interrupted the petting session from the front of the room. “Yes, hands to yourself, Kirishima,” Aizawa threatened. Both of you shrank in fear a little. Aizawa seemed to be getting even more annoyed, if possible.

Kirishima recovered quickly. “But Aizawa-sensei! Can I please sit in the back with [Y/N]-sensei?” He didn’t stop scratching you. In fact, he continued leaning forward, and forward, until he fell out of his chair. You jumped back quickly enough not to collide with him, but he hit the floor hard.

“Are you okay?” you asked frantically. You hated seeing any of your students get hurt, especially if you were (partially) to blame. As he lay on the floor, you started licking his face, making sure he was okay and unhurt. Kirishima started laughing, trying to get up and play-wrestling with you.

“Don’t start with me,” you growled at him.

Undeterred, Kirishima said, “I’m okay! I’m not hurt! But your tongue is tickling me!” As he playfully fought back, you toppled him to the floor and sat on him, continuing to lick his hair, making it stick out at even crazier and odder angles than it normally did. You made sure not to put your full weight on him, although you could tell he’d already hardened to make sure to protect himself. Good boy!

Neither you nor Kirishima paid any attention to Aizawa. “KIRISHIMA!” he yelled. At that, the both you looked at him: you, with your tongue sticking halfway out of your mouth, mid-lick.

“Aw come-on, Aizawa-sensei! I can pay attention from down here! In fact, I’ll pay even more attention! He Bakugo, throw me my workbook again, will you?”

“Back of the room!” Aizawa pointed at you. You pouted. You were hurt. You never actually expected Aizawa to speak so angrily at you, especially in front of the class.

“I was just trying to make sure Kirishima was okay!” you said. Of course, Aizawa didn’t understand.

Finally, he was able to start class, with you stationed in the back. Usually, you’d be observing how he taught the class, and when bored, you’d be grading papers or homework to pass the time. However, you clearly could do none of that. This is so BORING! Am I this boring when I teach? You were going to have to come up with more ways to engage the class.

Why not start now?

Aizawa finally started his lesson. The kids paid attention to him for the first few minutes after his angry outburst, but Hagakure turned around in her seat and waved at you. This started a chain reaction of various kids trying to get your attention every time Aizawa turned to write something on the board.

You weren’t exactly sure how to respond. They never behaved like this on a regular basis. You lifted one enormous paw to wave back at them, but you put it down quickly, feeling sheepish.

You hadn’t put it down quickly enough, though, as Aizawa made eye contact with you. “[Y/N]-sensei, please come to the front. Everyone! Eyes up here!”

Embarrassed, you crawled under the front desk and hid. As Aizawa droned on and on, you tried to make yourself comfortable. How on Earth are cats able to sleep on even the most uncomfortable of surfaces? You wondered. It was still a mystery that eluded you. May you would understand in your final tiger form.

However, you were still a little miffed that Aizawa yelled at you, and you were really bored. I bet everyone is too! You were going to do something you were really going to regret later. But you had to get back at Aizawa!

You stuck your tail out from under the front of the desk and waved it back and forth. Kirishima, in true fashion, was the first to laugh; Sero and Kaminari followed soon thereafter. Aizawa turned around quickly, glaring at everyone. The room immediately silenced. A few minutes later, you stuck your paws out, pretending to catch something dangling from a string. The class immediately erupted into laughter once more.

This time, Aizawa’s eyes flashed and his hair stood on end, his wraps levitating around him. He didn’t even need to say anything this time for the class to quiet down. He leaned down to eye level with you, the desk obscuring you and him from the class. You smiled sweetly at him. He glared at you. You blinked prettily at him again, tilting your head to the side. After trying to intimidate you for a few moments, he sighed, rolled his eyes, and extended a hand to quickly ruffle the fur on your head. He resumed teaching before your face was even able to morph into a look of surprise.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class and the beginning of a five-minute break. Before anyone could get up from their seats and approach you, you bounded out of the classroom. A chorus of “aww”’s and “Where did [Y/N]-sensei go?” sounded behind you. You skidded to a stop in front of the teacher’s lounge and briskly entered. Catching sight of Aizawa’s yellow sleeping bag, you bounded over, grabbed it in your mouth, and then made your way back to the classroom.

“Hey! That’s my sleeping bag!” Aizawa grumbled at you. He didn’t want to risk playing tug-of-war with it against you, in case it ripped. You were too busy to respond, laying the sleeping bag down and circling around yourself, trying to get comfortable. Honestly, none of these movements felt instinctual at all; you felt as though you were simply copying movements from all the cat videos you’d watched in your lifetime (there were many). As you circled around the bag, you were distracted by your fluffy tail and started chasing it. Again, the class burst into laughter, while Aizawa looked on. I bet they’ll all have stitches in their sides from laughing so much! You didn’t catch it, but Aizawa smiled briefly at you in amusement as well. You finally settled down and began drifting off to sleep, the sleeping bag smelling comfortably and reassuringly like its owner.

Being an assistant teacher was a lot of work.

#bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #aizawa #aizawa x reader #mha #my hero academia #all might #all might x reader #bnha x reader #toshinori yagi #toshinori x reader #toshinori yagi x reader #hizashi #hizashi x reader #animal quirk

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cherry3point14 · 5 years ago

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Stranger Than Fanfiction: Ch 6

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Not much except for the dangers for staying up all night. And Meta. Word count: 1,900. Chapter Summary: Fanfiction is not your friend. A/N: I am very sorry but like all my writing we are in that awkward middle where we have to hang on for dear life and hope the writing improves by the end.

Ao3 if you prefer

You hadn’t gone looking for it, the story. Your new online friend sent you a link. Innocently. Casually. Like she wasn’t going to absolutely, swiftly, and utterly change everything.

It was only supposed to be a story.

You had tried to explain as gently as possible that you weren’t reading fics anymore but she'd sent you the link anyway, in case you changed your mind. She hadn’t been holding a gun to your head or anything, you didn’t have to click it. You could have let it sit in your little inbox till the end of time. She’d mentioned that you might like this story is all. This person, the writer she linked you to, was well known and pretty good. The stories were, her words, one of a kind. It had been late, you’d already been tucked up in bed and unable to sleep. The blue light from your phone was doing very little to help with the whole getting to sleep thing, but really, it’s Friday night. No harm, no foul.

Your bedroom was the perfect temperature, your blankets were the perfect weight over your body. Everything was soft and cocoon-like, the ideal place to hide from the world while you read something you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t. More fanfiction.

The first story was twelve chapters and you devoured them. Your new friend had been right. The story was brilliant. If you hadn’t known better this could have been another unpublished book, albeit shorter than Supernatural books usually are. There had been a vivid interaction between Sam and Dean finishing each other's sentences that felt bone-chillingly real. Probably because you’d seen the real them do the exact same thing in front of you a few days ago.

Well written fanfiction is not the issue. Nor is the fact that you’re reading fanfiction at all. The crazy, unbelievable part came down to four familiar words.

Little did she know.

If you remembered anything it was those words. They had haunted what nightmares you’d had since you heard them a week ago. Those words were the reason you jumped easier at every sound or movement.

Then you’d read them on the screen. Little had that character known that she wouldn't make it past the week. Alone those words weren’t irrefutable proof, not enough to convict anyway, the rest of the story might be. The way it was written. It was like you could hear the words in your head again, a different song sung in the same voice. An echo of what you heard most days since that first Friday in May.

Only when you get to the end do you dare to even think your suspicions.

There’s no way. It’s impossible.

The clock at the top of your phone tells you it’s nearly one o’clock in the morning now. You hadn’t devoured that first story as quickly as you thought. Maybe you’re tired. That’s what was causing this delirium. Tiredness was sending you further and into the realms of crazy. Crazier than the voice or the Winchesters or the fact that a shapeshifter is killing people.

It’s beyond deranged. It’s insane, it’s… it’s… unbelievable.

Your life, what you’ve been hearing, it can’t be just that; a story. It’s supposed to be in your head. Sure, everything you'd heard had been strung together like a book but it’s not actually being told. It’s something in you, broken, you needed an MRI. Or a therapist. You read too much, that’s all. You have too many books in your memory.

It would be easy to turn your phone off now. One a.m. That’s sleeping time. Your eyelids are heavy and it’s a struggle to keep them open.

But you click the link that says Masterlist anyway and see a post for something in progress at the top of the page. Till Death Do Us Part.

The synopsis alone makes your throat dry and your heart stop.

Y/N spends her days on paperwork and procedure. In the worst days of people’s lives, she is the full stop at the end of the sentence. When a loved one is lost, she replaces the irreplaceable; by completing the insurance claim. Her work sits on the outskirts of tragedy, far away enough that she pretends to have a normal life. But when she discovers two men attempting to steal her job out from under her? Everything changes.

The room is quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Gravity has forced you deeper into your pillow to the point where you couldn’t get up, couldn’t move, if your house caught fire around you. It’s a comfortable prison but you’re still trapped all the same, which only leaves scrolling, clicking, and reading as your options.

Yet your thumb is slow. It’s the only part of you that can move but you can’t bring yourself to do it too quickly. You suddenly can’t sleep either and indecision starts eating at you.

It might be an hour before you click on the first link—chapter one—it might be thirty seconds. The chapter eventually loads and when you do start skimming the words something steals the air from your lungs. A single line stands out to you, black letters on a white background that will haunt you for the rest of your short life.

This is a story about Y/N Y/L/N.

The early morning sun starts to leak through the gap in your curtains, sending a slither of light into the room. It slices over your bed, your arms still holding your phone and your face. It's not particularly bright but it's enough to inform you that you haven't slept yet and you paw at your cheeks to wipe the tears from them.

Six chapters out of ten. There are six chapters online for anyone to read. Every facet of your life. There’s so much more than the words you'd heard in your already. Entire sections where the real you deviated from the path, because the you that is being written about has no idea what’s coming. She has no idea that she’s going to die. Or that you both are.

When you’d first heard that you’d run home in a panic but in the story you never did. You sat at your desk and worked mindlessly, made small talk with Harry about his weekend plans. You’d carried on living.

The invasion of your privacy is not the reason for the tear tracks blotting your face though. No, you'd cried for two reasons. Frustration had been what made your chin wobble and your eyes sting. What you were reading is what knocked your resistance enough to feel the wetness on your cheeks.

It's poetic. The irony of this character only learning to really live in her final days, without knowing it's her final days. The foreshadowing and tragedy perfectly littered throughout. You may think you're better off knowing except what did you actually know? The only thing you know is the same thing everyone on the planet knows; death is coming. Yours is sooner than you'd like, sure, but you still had no idea what was coming at all.

You're not a crier, not pretty prose alone, but this isn't a character. It's you. The implication of sad, wasted days were your choices, your time, your shell of an existence.

You wouldn't have even thought your life was that ordinary until you'd read that it was.

So, you'd read. Over and over again as if you can will the ending to appear by memorizing whatever has already been posted. Sleeping was second hand to re-reading. You'd thought back to everything before this and your love of a good mystery, convincing yourself that you alone could find the clues. That’s where the key to solving this was. Hidden to anyone else but you.

Now you know every word; the good, the bad, and the ones you already heard in your head. There’s nothing. No glaringly obvious tips or hints anyway. Nothing that makes you sit up dramatically because of a fact only you know about yourself. Then again—you're reminded by the promise of an update soon—it’s still in progress.

The answer hits you between your eyes.

This story is in progress. It’s not a product of your mind anymore, it's being written by a human being. Although you have no idea how you are hearing it, or how she’s controlling you. Or if she brought you into existence like a monster from the books. There's still hope. She’s a person typing on a keyboard.

People can be stopped. Keyboards can be smashed. Stories can go unfinished.

You click back to her main profile and see her name. Emma. Your author has a name now, all the better to find her.

Emma. Iowa. That doesn't narrow it down much further. The only other slightly identifying piece of information on her profile is her age.

There's one thing Emma has gotten right in everything she's written so far, you have changed. Imminent death will do that to a person. Old you would have given up, let defeat win out. Luckily you're not that person anymore.

Not everyone is as honest as you would like when it comes to insurance. Sometimes you need to treat things like fraud because they are fraud, so you already have a friend who has dug up information for you in the past. With a lot less to go on.

Hi Stan,

It's been a while but I was hoping you had time to check something out for me. I'm looking for an Emma, 34, Iowa. I also have a link to her blog below. I know it's a long shot but if I can get a phone number, address, anything. You'd be doing me a huge favor. Are normal fees ok? Let me know if you're busy or if anyone else can do this for me.

Thanks,

Y/N

The email is brief but once your phone makes that tiny woosh sound to signify it's sent you feel comforted. A small semblance of relief wraps you up like the blanket you still have tucked under your arms. For the first time, you're not blindly trying things and hoping to solve the problem. You may not know how this is happening but you're being proactive with the facts you have. If your off the books P.I friend can actually find this woman then you may have an honest to God shot at preventing your own death. You might even get her out of your head to boot.

You check the time again, even though it's six a.m. you're finally tired enough to close your eyes.

Continue to Chapter 7.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer StrangerThanFiction tags: @jaylarkson @starsandmidnightblue

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean

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wosoimagines · 5 years ago

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Doctor’s Visit

So, this took me quite a bit longer to rewrite on my computer than I had planned, but I did add some stuff to it for you guys. Also, I think I’ve decided that I’m going to post Monday-Friday.

prompt: You don’t have to do this if you have a lot of requests or anything but I was thinking maybe one where baby R has to get blood drawn for maybe like a check-up or something to make sure she is ok after she returns from being ill and she really hates getting blood drawn, so the team is there with her to comfort her and distract her? Thank you! combined with; Baby R has to go to the doctor but she hates doctors and hospitals so she hides in a bathroom and refuses to leave.

warnings: None

words: 1442

(Y/N) POV

There was a knock on the door. I chose to ignore it from my spot on the floor. I paid more attention to my phone as I scrolled through Twitter. I could faintly hear talking from the other side of the door, but I didn’t pay much attention to it.

“(Y/N), come on,” Julie pleaded. I was tired of their begging, but I knew that I would regret it whenever I unlocked that door. It would be less painful for me if I just waited it out and only had to deal with the anger from everyone else on the team. “You need to come out. There’s no reason for you to be scared.”

“Let me think about it,” I snarked and gave her a pause for dramatics. “No.”

The knocking began again and this time it wasn’t stopping. I glared at the door after a minute because whoever was knocking wasn’t stopping. I wasn’t going to leave the bathroom though just because someone kept knocking.

“Sonnett, stop it,” Christen snapped from the other side of the door. The knocking on the door stopped.

“What? I’m trying to annoy her into coming out,” Sonnett defended. I shook my head at her. “Is it working?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Seriously, you need to come out before Alex and Kelley get here,” Becky said. I wasn’t going to come out, even for Alex and Kelley. I ignored the texts that I got from Alex asking if I was ready to go. I knew that she wouldn’t be happy when she got here, but I wasn’t happy that she made me a doctor’s appointment without asking me.

“I’ll tell Sinc not to trade jerseys with you,” Tobin threatened.

“No, you wouldn’t because then I would cry and that would be on you,” I countered.

“You’ve had pneumonia, (Y/N),” Ali pointed out. I rolled my eyes because everyone had acted like I couldn’t take care of myself when I had first gotten sick. “You have to go make sure that you don’t still have pneumonia.”

I changed from Twitter to Instagram. I could hear a different door opening and closing. I assumed that it was Alex and Kelley finally coming into my room. I could hear them talking with the others, but I didn’t pay much attention to what they were saying. There was another knock on the door.

“Come on, (Y/N). We’ve got to go,” Alex called out.

“No, I’m not going,” I said.

The knocking began again and once again, it wasn’t stopping. I knew that it was more than likely Kelley this time. I thew another glare at the door when the knocking got annoying. Kelley wouldn’t stop any time soon, but I needed to ignore her.

“She won’t stop until you come out,” Alex said. The knocking paused for a moment.

“If you come out, (Y/N), I’ll stop for good,” Kelley agreed. The knocking resumed.

“Do you want to hear it Spanish? No.”

“We’ll go out for ice cream afterward,” Alex suggested. I groaned slightly at that because I always took every chance I got to get some ice cream since I didn’t get to eat it often. We really only went out for ice cream on special occasions.

“No.”

I couldn’t cave at that, however. I would have to show much more restraint than caving at ice cream to get out of this doctor’s appointment. I wasn’t even sick anymore.

“I’ll teach you how to surf,” Kelley offered.

My thoughts stopped in their tracks. I had been wanting Kelley to teach me how to surf lately, but she never would. We were both picky about when we went to the beach and it always seemed like we both went on different days. I could have had some of the other women teach me, but I really wanted Kelley to be the one to teach me.

“Can we still go get ice cream?” I softly asked.

“Yeah, we can,” Alex said.

I moved over to the door and stood up. I sighed as I leaned my forehead against the door. I unlocked the door before cracking it open. I peeked out of the crack.

“Promise?” I held my pinkie out.

“Promise,” Alex wrapped her pinkie around mine.

Once the door to the bathroom was opened farther, I was pulled out of the bathroom by Alex and Kelley. The two proceeded to drag me out of the hotel that we were currently staying. I wasn’t surprised that we were walking or that the 20 other women were following us. I was surprised, however, when I walked into the doctor’s office and all of the other 22 women on the team followed me inside.

Kelley took me to a seat and forced me into it before sitting beside me. I could see Alex checking me in at the window as the other women with us either stood or sat near us. It didn’t take long for me to be called back, but I had a feeling that had to deal with the fact that there were so many of us. My height and weight were taken, but none of that was out of the usual.

The other 22 women that were following me crammed into the small room with me. I couldn’t help but shake my leg once I was sitting on the padded bench. I had my attention mainly on Alex and Kelley as they were the ones that were primarily keeping conversation with me. Occasionally, Julie and Becky would jump into our conversation.

That was until a cotton ball hit my face. I jumped in surprise when it happened before looking for the culprit. Pinoe had her hands raised in the air as she cheered. I picked up the cotton ball to throw it back at her, but it was grabbed out of my hand by Alex who gave both of us a glare. Pinoe stuck her tongue out at me, but I didn’t get a chance to say anything as my attention was being drawn elsewhere.

Sonnett had taken to poking me until I looked at her. She immediately added me to the conversation that she was having with Lindsey, Mal, Rose, and Sam. I wasn’t too surprised when Tobin and Christen joined the conversation. They kept me occupied enough that I never noticed when Alex was talking to the doctor about how I had been doing the past few days or when the nurse came through and was taking my blood.

“You ready to go?” Alex asked as she stood up. I looked over at her with my brow furrowed.

“They haven’t taken my blood,” I pointed out. Immediately, all of the girls started to laugh at me and I wasn’t sure why.

“They did take your blood,” Alex motioned to my arm causing me to look down at it. “You just didn’t notice.”

My eyes widened when I saw the cotton ball taped to my arm. I really hadn’t noticed that they had come in and taken my blood. I refused to look at the others.

“They took my blood without me knowing,” I whispered.

The others immediately began laughing at me again. Alex ushered all of us out of the tiny room and out of the doctor’s office. We all headed to the nearest vegan ice cream shop. Alex and Kelley both held me back so that they could pay for my ice cream.

“Choose whatever you want,” Kelley said causing me to look back at her. Kelley normally did let me do more crazier stuff, but she normally helped to keep me on my diet. “You had to get your blood drawn today, you deserve it. Whatever you want.”

I smiled but turned to make the insanely unhealthy ice cream sundae that I loved. Alex was shaking her head at me the whole time but Kelley had her phone pulled out. I was sure that I looked like a little kid the whole time, but I didn’t really care about that too much. Before I grabbed a hold of my ice cream, I wrapped Alex and Kelley into a hug.

“Thanks for taking care of me even when I don’t want you too.”

“No problem, kid,” Kelley ruffled my hair.

“It’s what we’re here for as your national team moms,” Alex added.

I grinned at the two of them before grabbing my ice cream. I ran to join the younger girls at a table, but I couldn’t help but grin and wave every time I caught Alex or Kelley watching us. It really was nice to have Kelley and Alex as my national team moms.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #uswnt

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