#to rip away the sense of agency he must’ve worked so so so hard to ever achieve

[sammygender]

there’s also the obvious dimension that well. dean’s whole life is built around this tiny family unit. him and john and sammy. even if it ruins him, even if it’s toxic and abusive and codependent, it’s who he is. it’s who all of them are!! then sammy leaves. sam leaving is selfish! not in a bad way, in a way where it’s an intensely brave act of self-preservation that must’ve required so much strength to pull off! but that idea of selfish as at all ever being good….... well. dean cant even comprehend that. not when he’s so thoroughly invested in this decades-long act of Dean Winchester, big brother and soldier son and surrogate wife. not when he feels like nothing and has no real sense of self at all. how dare sam be selfish etc etc is basically asking How dare sam even have/try to take ownership over his own identity and his life since when was that a thing that happened…….

[bunnyywritings]

Can I request Shinsou doing a hero-work study with a young popular female hero? But during the study he starts to gain feelings for them due to their energetic personality and how loving she was to him. How they understand his struggle with his quirk and such, in general just makes him feel more confident. But she doesn’t only sees him as a little brother kinda thing? I hope this makes sense 💕 thank you!

misunderstood and unheard

hitoshi shinso x fem!reader

[a/n: this is such a creative prompt, thank you for the request anon!!! enjoy some sad shinso, -yours truly, bunnyy -`ღ´- ps. for the sake of a hero theme, (y/n) is kinda like an alt girl...that’s how she dresses, her ideals, how her hero costume is designed and how her agency is decorated]

To say he was shocked is a bit of an understatement. He never thought that his work-study application to your agency would be accepted.

You were someone he looked up to, someone he admired. You were a young hero, no more than a couple years older than him and you were already in the Top 5 and had your own agency. You were known because of your quirk. It was very powerful but also seen as villainous. You had a history of never accepting any students for the work-study program, only accepting office interns. So imagine the disbelief on his face when Aizawa had given him the letter. He took it to his room and got comfortable. With fluttering fingers, he shakily ripped open the envelope and tossed it aside. He took a deep breath before carefully unfolding the paper. It was handwritten. You had taken the time to personally hand write him a letter.

‘Dear Hitoshi, I usually don’t take on any students for the work-study program, so I was a little surprised to see your application in my inbox. I decided to take the chance and look it over. Once I saw that you’re currently enrolled at UA, I requested to see footage from your practice matches and the sports festival. You show a lot of promise to become a top hero one day, you’re very talented. As you probably know, I have experience with a quirk like yours and seeing as there’s a lot of very unkind people and unwilling heroes, I would like to inform you that I will gladly accept your application for a work-study. I’m very excited to meet you and help you develop the kind of experience you need to grow as a young hero. I hope you’re ready, your first day starts this Friday at 7am. You’ve already been cleared from class if you decide you want to accept.’

You...you accepted his application...

He hugged his pillow to his chest and buried is red face into it. His heart was racing and adrenaline pumping. He had never been happier in his life. He 100% framed the letter and put it on his wall.

He woke up extra early on the morning of, he just couldn’t contain himself. He had decided to forgo the school uniform and dress in casual clothes, carrying his hero costume in the metal briefcase given by the school. It had definitely improved since his first year, it was simple but it worked. His heartbeat became more erratic as his legs carried him all the way to your agency building. All he could do was stand there, in absolute awe.

“Looks like we were both excited and got here early.” He jumped at the sudden voice beside him, eyes widening as his eyes landed on you. You were dressed in civilian clothes and it took everything in him to not drool. You definitely had style. He blushed when you tilted your head in a confused manner, realizing that he hadn’t responded.

“Y-yeah, sorry. I just c-couldn’t wait s-so...yeah.” He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck.

“Well then, come on in.” You giggled as you unlocked the door and held it open for him, he nervously walked. You followed behind him as he looked around in awe. You never really thought that your agency was anything special but he was looking around like he was in disneyland. People had described your office as very homey. There was an exposed brick interior, all the furniture was vintage looking, a turntable in the corner with a shelf of various different vinyl discs beside it. He felt like he was in his dream bedroom.

“Alright then, Hitoshi.” He turned to you, cheeks still pink. “Time to suit up.” The wink you gave him made his face burn. It was going to be a long day.

Going on patrol with you just made his adoration and pride for you grow. You had posed for pictures, did countless autographs, and even went out of your way to make a tik tok or two with some kids. There was no wonder why your social ranking was so high. Other than that, it was pretty uneventful. There was some guy trying to rob a convenience store while the both of you made your way back to the agency.

“Why don’t you take this one Hitoshi-kun.” You patted his shoulder encouragingly.

“Are you sure?” He cocked an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I fully believe in you.” Your smile is what filled him with courage. 

He calmly approached the robber, “Sir are you sure you want to be doing that?”

“Of course! Now leave me alone you wannabe hero!” The second that shout left the man’s mouth, he froze. Eyes going blank.

You watched with your arms crossed, a small smile on your lips.

“Now why don’t you drop the weapon and put your arms around your back.” The man moved stiffly as he did what he was told. Shinso turned to you, eyes asking what he should do next. You unhooked a pair of handcuffs from your belt and tossed them to him. He caught them with ease and slapped them onto the man’s wrist.

After handing the robber off to the proper authorities, you both made your way to your agency. Ordering some lunch and eating it in your office.

“It must’ve been difficult for you.” His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Growing up with a quirk like that.” After your clarification, he nodded somberly. Unpleasant memories resurfacing.

“All my life, I had been told my quirk was villainous. People were scared that I would take advantage of them, no one would talk to me...and sure things are a little different now but I still feel like no one truly gets it.” He didn’t know why he was being so honest but he felt like he could be honest with you.

“I truly understand how you feel. My own parents disowned me, they were disgusted by my quirk. My classmates were always terrified of me. They’d tell me that, even if I ever got to be a hero that I’d give the person I’m trying to save a heart attack. Even now as a pro, I get slandered in the press or while on patrols. I get called a demon, heroes like Endeavor are trying to kick me from the hero association.” His eyes widened as he listened to you talk, he could hear the tinge of pain in your voice.“Trying to navigate life alone is hard, I’ve been alone all of my life. When I saw you in the sports festival, the way people reacted to your quirk, I felt for you. I know what it feels like so I thought I’d-” Before you finished, a siren went off in your office. 

“Well, looks like lunch time is over.” You smiled sympathetically at him. “Let’s go.“

After helping fend off a villain and having you throw yourself in front of him to protect him, the two of you made your way back.

“Uhm there’s a locker room down the hall. You can shower before heading back to your dorm.” You smiled but he could see you were tired. Right before you guys could leave, Endeavor had some interesting choice words for you and him. You were quick to defend him from the current number 1 hero instead of defending yourself. He felt bad. It was only his first day and you had to protect him from a villain and defend him from the sharp tongue of Endeavor. He nodded and grabbed his bag, making his way to the locker room.

“What do you want Enji? Didn’t you already get enough earlier?”

“Don’t run your mouth brat. I’m here to drop off paperwork for the damage you caused.” The stack of papers he tossed thumped against your desk and you got up and crossed your arms, scoffing.

“The damage I caused? I think you’re confused Enji because last time I checked, my quirk didn’t cause someone’s house to catch fire.” You went to reach for the stack of paper but he caught your wrist in a vice grip and pulled you closer to him.

“Don’t think that you’ll ever get to the top (y/n), I’ll always be there to kick you down.” 

You chuckled, although it came off as more of a grimace. “That’s not very plus ultra of you Enji...you forget. Not everyone’s goal is to get to the top to try and revive any broken ego we have. Some of us are here to actually help people.” That didn’t please him as he shoved you away.

“I’ll be seeing you around (y/n).” He threatened. Shinso frowned as he watched Endeavor stomp out of the building, turning to you and seeing you rub our red wrist.

“Is everything okay?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, he just dropped off some paper work.” He approached you and softly took you wrist in his hand, thumb gently running over the slight hand print he left behind.

“Did he-?”

“It’s okay Toshi-kun, it’s nothing.” The smile on your lips was convincing enough for him to drop the topic. “Now, why don’t you head back and get some rest. I’ve got some paper work to do.”

“I can help you with that.”

“Oh no, Toshi you should really go and get some rest.” You shook your head.

“Please, let me help you out. If I’m gonna be a hero, I should learn how to properly do paperwork, right?” He smiled, trying to convince you.

“Okay fine. Go put on a record and I’ll order us some more food.” 

Over the next couple of hours, the two of you ate, did paperwork, danced around to whatever record was playing and just goofed around. After a bit, he had fallen asleep while resting his head on the desk.

“I told you to go home and rest.” You whispered, shaking your head. Picking up your phone, you sandwiched it against your cheek and shoulder as you placed your jacket over his shoulder.

“Hey Aizawa, your kid fell asleep while doing paperwork...yeah, I know...well I don’t mind keeping him here. I wasn’t really planning on heading home anyways...of course...thanks Shota.” After you hung up, you pushed Shinso’s hair back. “Sweet dreams Toshi.” You placed a soft kiss against his forehead. He tried hard to fend off the smile threatening to stretch his lips.

After that, the work-study lasted for 3 more months.

“Let’s go out.”

“H-Huh?” He stuttered, looking up from the paper work the both of you were doing.

“To commemorate your last day. Let’s go eat, it’s almost time to clock out anyways.“ He agreed and the both of you decided to go get some ramen. He couldn’t help but feel like this was a date. He knew it wasn’t but a boy could dream. As the both of you ate, he reminisced about spending so much time with you.

“I’m gonna miss you Toshi-kun.” Your sudden confession made his heart skip a beat. “I like having you around.” He paused, standing under a sakura tree that the two of you walked under.

“Is everything okay?” You asked as you turned around, standing in front of him.

“I-I need to be h-honest with you (y-y/n).”

“Oh okay, go ahead.” You smiled sweetly at him, trying to ease his worry.

“I think-I think I’m in l-love with you. You make me feel like I’m not alone and the things I experienced are valid. Y-Your smile makes my heart skip a beat and-”

“Oh Toshi-kun.” You gently cut him off. The sad smile on your face made his stomach drop. “I’m sorry Toshi, I’m going to have to cut you off right there. I can’t reciprocate those feelings that you have.” He was expecting that but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Why? Is-Is it because I’m too young? Am I not your type?” The slight desperation in his voice broke your heart as his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“That’s not it at all Toshi but I can’t return the feelings because I see you kinda like a little brother. I care about you and want to see you grow...I’m sorry.” You didn’t really know what to do.

“Oh...no. I-I’ve probably made you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry, I-” He sighed, running a hand down his face, hanging his head in embarrassment.

“That’s okay Toshi, no need to apologize at all.” You gently patted his head. He looked up and wiped his eyes.

“Can I give you a hug?” The question made him bite his lip in contemplation. He decided to divulge and nodded. The feeling of being in your arms made him instantly feel better. The warmth radiating from you was comforting.

“I really am sorry Hitoshi. This doesn’t change anything though. If you want to apply to my agency once you graduate. There’s always room for you.” You leaned down and planted a kiss on the crown of his head. “You can rely on me if you ever need me.” You muttered, you could feel his shoulders shake, there was something wet seeping through your shirt. You went to pull away but he gripped onto you.

“Please...just a little bit longer.” He whispered brokenly. You held him closer to you, guilty for making him feel so upset.

Sometimes, things just aren’t meant to be.

Or are they?? (Alternate ending)

[randombtsprincessa]

Blind Spot | Amour Propre Finale

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader

Words: 5.6k

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Summary: Yoongi tries to win you back.

A/N:The few asks for Amour Propre sequel have led to this! I tried to make it as realistic as I could!

The soft creaks of the swings had never seemed so despondent and distracting to Yoongi before. No, before, even when his loneliness crept up, it was a given; nothing very special, he felt lonely; there had been the soft sounds of the swings accompanying him, acting as a white noise as he scribbled in his pocket book.

Because, somehow in the near silent, surrounded by nothing and no one, his loneliness eased.

It was strange, how being alone could make you feel not so alone. People did have that superpower. The more there were, around you, surrounding you, the more the possibility that you would be alone, amidst people who claimed to care about you.

The boisterous laughter of his brothers was probably one of the rare things that could make him glance up from his solitary place on the couch; cast a cursory eye over them, just to make sure no one broke anything, especially Namjoon. Sometimes, he would catch Jimin’s near closed eyes, Taehyung’s excited puppy eyes or deep soulful ones of his trusted leader. Sometimes, Jungkook, the little brat would tug at his shirt, pulling him into their rough housing, or Jin or Hoseok would break away to sit down next to him, panting.

Those times, his fondness eased the dark corners of his mind.

Even then, there were times when he couldn’t write in his studio and needed something extra.

The far off swing set near the Agency building had been an accident find, shoes scuffing as he walked around aimlessly, the pages of unfinished lyrics weighing heavy in his pocket.

The creaks had been a huge help.

That had been before meeting her. Meeting her had reduced the creaks to the background, stealing the spotlight till it shone solely on her. Her presence became the buffer, the puffs of her exhales lending him the inspiration needed to fill up formerly frozen words.

She had melted and embossed herself in his writing schedule in a way that he had felt, deep while he tried to put melody to words, that he looked forward to her soft chatter, before silence wrapped around them again as she basked in the cool night breeze, his presence lending her security while he used the time to write.

Sometimes, he wondered if maybe he had taken more than he had ever thought of giving.

Yoongi looked up, the pole stretching across overhead before glancing to the empty swing next to him. His feet had dug into the soft sand underneath, swinging himself to hear the light creaks only this time, the one next to him remained unmoving, unoccupied.

And his mind…his mind was anything but…

He looked down at the empty book trying hard not to let flashbacks take over his mind again, knowing there wasn’t much that would come from them.

The stranger coming to sit next to him, the light banter, a surprising insight, walking her home and her name…

Yoongi squeezed the pen in his hand, veins bulging over his knuckles as images changed, shifting through time until he was standing in his empty home; no, not a home anymore…

Flowers lay crumpled at his feet, eyes fixed on a still keychain near the door.

While he stood, left alone…

Yoongi stopped swinging before he could do any damage, either by hurting his hand if he snapped the pen or ripped any important pages from his book.

His temper was one of the less attractive qualities of him and if nothing else, he was determined to control it, after all, it had done him nothing but harm in turn.

Getting to his feet was surprisingly easy, considering he hadn’t felt like moving for days now, not when he had dumped his body onto his couch and let himself stay there for hours, staring straight forward, unmoving…

The walk back was familiar now.

Yoongi’s feet had memorized many paths; the one to his studio, the dorm, his house…he could find his way with eyes blindfolded and had never found his feet weighed but he felt it now, the slowness, and the agitation of going to an empty apartment.

His key slid in, the metal slotting in because what did a non living thing know of separation? It was him that had left this place on the pretext of work, not wanting to come back when she asked him to. Now that she was gone, he was always here, waiting…hoping…

His hand reached up to put the keychain up on the hook, looking to the side where her key swung, lonely like him, left behind.

Yoongi sighed, bringing his hands up to his temples, rubbing out the rising signs of a headache.

He stopped once he reached the bedroom passage, eyes falling on the key hook along the front door.

On the last hook swung her house key, along with a wooden I <3 Yoongi key chain.

Yoongi’s brow sweated eyes wide as he stared, stricken at the keychain. She’d gotten it at Han River, as a joke, teasing him but he’d been immovable, making her put it on the house key permanently, as a show that she was his forever.

She’d left the key behind…with the keychain.

Yoongi’s fingers loosened around the stems, the flower falling to the floor with a delicate and sad flump.

Jin had been right.

Yoongi had lost her.

Stumbling forward a little, he moved to the key hook, a long fingered hand raising to brush his name carved in soft wood, the light sheen on it evidence as to how carefully she’d maintained it.

Something tugged in his chest, a phantom pain that stirred slowly, shuffling in some unknown depth of his body.

He snatched his hand away as if the wood burned him, turning away quickly, eyes wide and rapidly blinking.

No, there must’ve been some mistake…it had to be an accident, a mishap on her part, an overlook.

The calls started after fifteen minutes of waiting, waiting to see if she’d rush back in, hair a little messy and cheeks red. That she’d somehow cajole him, getting over her surprise of seeing him there before her arms wrapped around him, and then he would offer his apology, maybe even scold her a bit because she scared him, and that was never ok.

He picked up the flowers, one of the flowers crushed under his foot but he’d tried his best, unearthing a vase in your favorite color, adding water and whatnot, while the other hand tried to fluff up the crushed bud as best as he could.

The door didn’t open, staying shut and he’d picked up his phone, starting the long process of dialing her number and waiting, with the ring going…and going, and going…and then the cheerful start of her voicemail.

He’d tried her three times, before giving up, wondering if it was a good idea to call her parents.

No, they were a world away with no way to help him.

He considered her friends, trying to scroll through his contacts when an oddity struck him.

He didn’t know any of her friends. He had no way to contact them; he had no clue as to who they even were individually. Maybe it was something to do with the secrecy of his relationship, he had had no reason to delve into her world while she knew almost all of his because she had to…well she had to stay away from them.

He winced.

He had never thought that maybe it was unfair, knowing it was what came of dating him and she had never complained and he had never asked.

Looking down at his useless phone, he felt that he should’ve at least listened when she spoke of them. At least he would have some sort of name to look for.

Showing up at her workplace would absolutely not do. No matter how much he wanted to drive over to the office building, hang around till he could ask someone if they knew her, he knew it would result in catastrophe, for her, for him, for the boys, for everyone…

He looked forlornly at the flowers. The crushed flower, oddly reminded him of his situation.

He walked lethargically to the couch before dropping heavily onto it, arms on his legs and shoulders slumped.

And so, Min Yoongi admitted defeat…

Yoongi’s fingers stopped roving his head, eyes snapping open as he looked around his bare apartment again only this time a sense of panic was overtaking him.

There was no way he could stay here.

The bed hadn’t lost her scent yet, and the way he slept, curling into his own side while looking at hers, had intermingled their smells, torturing him with the reminder of how it should’ve been…how it could’ve been…

The kitchen appliances wouldn’t work properly for him, as if they knew he was responsible for their loving owner to leave.

The bathtub, too big for one person mocked him with all the times he’d held her in it, soft wet skin pressed against each other, the hot water and steam releasing tensions trapped from two different lives.

He would go mad. No, he would rather go mad than live here and be tormented all day every day with her memories, her absence.

Spinning around, he grabbed his key again, his jerky movement jolting her untouched keychain and he grasped it too, yanking it off roughly before shoving it in his pocket and rushing out the door.

It had been a good bit into early morning or late night when a sleep puffed eyed Jimin opened the door to the dorm, wondering who was trying to get into the house.

Yoongi struggled to stay quiet, fingers that had frozen cold in the night air shaky as he held onto the small key.

“Hyung,” he winced, looking into the worried eyes of Jimin, “what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean? I’m coming home.” The snappy reply bubbled involuntarily from Yoongi’s mouth, prompting Jimin’s eyebrows to shoot up but he respectfully drew away, leaving Yoongi to shuffle into the dorm.

Yoongi watched as the younger man slowly walked away, his pajamas ruffled and closed the door of the room he shared with Hoseok, all the while pretending to undo his shoes. As soon as he heard the click of the bolt, he moved to sit on the couch, the position that was becoming painfully familiar to him molding his body.

Head bowed, arms hanging, he wondered if this was a good idea.

What if she decided to come back? What would happen then? No one was around to let her in and he had taken her key…

If she somehow managed to get in what would she think about her absent key? Would she think he’d moved on? Would that make her give up completely?

He knew these were baseless thoughts. She wasn’t coming back. She hardly did anything without thinking about it and she wouldn’t have left her key behind if she had planned to come back.

No, the key was a message. Not only was she leaving the house, she was leaving him behind as well.

Yoongi’s first reaction might not have gone to anger but it definitely was rising now. What was she playing at? He was going to apologize! He was going to give her flowers, make her something special if need be and she just…up and left?

What kind of tomfoolery –

He stopped short when the uncomfortable pang pulsed through his chest again, stopping his ire short and conjuring images that he’d thought didn’t bother him.

Soft smiled fading away due to something he said…

Private frowns that were quickly smoothed out when he entered the kitchen…

Words that slowed and then stopped flowing when his interest was obviously not garnered…

Dinners found on the plate and then in the trash on the rare occasion he came home…

Crumpled papers with scrawled numbers that had first made him burn with jealousy before he had convinced himself it didn’t matter because they were crumpled for a reason.

Then finally, one choked voice and a trembling face that he knew but hadn’t bothered to see, the last time he would see her.

Now they all gutted him, stabbing his stomach with a dull knife.

He thought of all the numbers again, and while the green head of jealousy snaked through him again, he knew there was a good chance she’d find someone…someone to take care of her the way he had never even bothered to.

With a last sigh, he stood up again, and slowly dragged himself to the one place he knew he could fester in peace.

“Has anybody spoken to Yoongi Hyung recently?” Jimin asked nervously, a few days later, breakfast seeing six boys around the large table, grabbing anything that grabbed their fancy.

“Didn’t he move back?” Namjoon asked.

“He showed up a few nights ago, saying he was coming home and I…I just let him be, you know.” Jimin was met by silent stares.

“Hyung is here? I haven’t seen him once.” Taehyung said.

“I haven’t heard from Y/N too.” Hoseok said slowly.

“Did they have a fight? He gets moody when he fights.” Jungkook offered, the straw of his milk box hanging out the side of his mouth.

“I…I think it might be more serious than that.” Jimin said finally before looking imploringly at their eldest, who stood at the stove, back tense.

“Hyung, go talk to him.” he said.

Jin didn’t turn around to answer, he just shrugged, “Fine, I’ll go see what’s up after breakfast. He’s more than likely locked himself up in his studio again.” He tried to sound light, but away from the eyes of his member, his teeth dug nervously into his lip.

 A few hours later, Jin was knocking on the glass door of Genius Lab, prepared to be ignored and fully taken aback when a quiet grunt called out, “Who is it?”

“Open the door Yoongi,” Jin said, palm hitting the glass again before he was met with a pause and then the buzz of the door unlocking.

Jin had been into Genius Lab more than a handful of times, Yoongi not being as primitive as he portrayed. He had seen the blocked stage of Yoongi reflected in the shades of the room, air conditioner on full blast while he curled up in one corner, notebook clutched in his lap.

He’d seen the manic inspired Yoongi, computer and all its equipment running while he rolled his chair to and fro from his sheet music and back, putting in cords and beats.

This…well, Jin didn’t have an emotion he could label this with.

Yoongi was on the small futon he kept for sleeping in the studio, feet sprawled away from himself while he lay back. The black screen that read SUGA was shut, his keyboard covered and table with papers thrown across them.

This was…disuse.

Yoongi had clearly been doing nothing in here.

“What…have you been doing?” Jin knew he had to be careful, judging by the room there was no work going on but the near black rings under Yoongi’s eyes also told him that he wasn’t sleeping.

“Nothing…” His friend mumbled.

“Oh and why is that?” He kept his tone conversational.

“Don’t feel like it,”

“Hmm,” Jin moved to the chair, pulling it out and swinging it around to look at the slumped man in front of him. “What happened to you?” He asked.

Yoongi didn’t even glance up. “Nothing happened.”

“Bullshit, you leave the dorm for three days, we all thought you and Y/N made up and you moved back home. Then you show up here late at night and then dash right back out and live here apparently, don’t even talk to us. So I’m going to ask again; what the fuck happened?”

Jin watched with uncertainty as Yoongi’s jaw twitched at Y/N’s name. “Is…is it Y/N? Did you not make up? Is she alright?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

Jin gripped his nose. “Yoongi, man up, spit it out, what happened?”

Yoongi finally looked up, an odd glint in his eye.

“You were right. I lost her Hyung. She’s gone. When I went back that day to apologize, she wasn’t there…she wasn’t – wasn’t home. She’s left me and gone and I have no clue where she is, or who with. I didn’t know who to call…I don’t – I don’t know anything about her Hyung.”

Jin’s mouth dropped open when Yoongi finished, slumping back after the tirade. Yoongi took a deep breath before he closed his eyes, a thin streak of moisture finally making its way to the surface, running down his cheek before it was quickly wiped away.

“But…why?” Jin choked out.

Yoongi chuckled, a lifeless sound. “You don’t know what happened that day, do you?” He narrated the damned day as he remembered it, all his poison regurgitated for Jin to scoff at.

“I told her I didn’t need her. What a fucking moron I am,”

“Moron…? No, Yoongi-ssi, you are a goddamned asshole who doesn’t deserve her. This isn’t the first time, right? Don’t think I don’t know all those times you’ve put her down, abandoned her when one of us had to pick up your slack so she wouldn’t look like a fool. I can’t believe I told her to give you a chance and you threw it right back in our faces. I’m glad she left you.”

Yoongi gaped wordlessly as the older man stood up, a dark sneer twisting his features. “You…you told her what?” He asked.

Jin ignored him, turning to leave with a disgusted snort but Yoongi was done acting tough.

“Hyung, you have to help me find her.” He said. Jin gave him a wide eyed look. “I don’t have to do anything for you.”

“No please, this is insane. I can’t focus without her, I was stupid. I’ve been stressing and I…I put my career before her. I thought she was more of a hindrance to what I’d built but she was the inspiration. Jin please, I need her. I was mad to say I didn’t and I shouldn’t have taken her for granted.”

Jin watched him for a second before shaking his head.

“No, I don’t think so. Once before, I asked her to lay down for you and you ran over her. She’s my friend too you know, I care for her.” He moved to the door again.

Yoongi struggled to his feet. He was done acting tough.

“Jin Hyung please, you have to help me, I can’t live like this!”

Jin paused again without turning around.

“I’ll do anything; anything, just to see her; one last time if it comes to that. I’ll back off if she doesn’t want me. I just need to see her one time. Just say what I need to and then I’ll leave her alone. Please,” he begged his hand landing on his brother’s arm.

Jin’s muscles tensed under his touch, before he was sighing, looking around to Yoongi.

“I don’t know where she is…but I might be able to find out. You’ll have to do exactly as I say.”

The diner Jin had called you to, was familiar for all the wrong reasons.

For one, it was one of those hole-in-the-wall places Yoongi liked to visit, or take you to if it was one of those rare days.

When Jin had called, cheerful and asked you why you had been so distant, you’d felt guilty, knowing that cutting Yoongi off had in a way cut you off from the boys due to the secrecy of it but you were determined not to let it be so.

He had sounded hesitant, asking about the diner but you’d eased him up, after all, it was just some diner one of your ex boyfriends took you to. Well, granted Yoongi was THE ex boyfriend but no matter…

You planned to tell Jin about your break up and try to get back to normal with the rest of the boys at least.

Now standing in front of the diner, you stared at the neon sign stating the diner’s name with no mean amount of foreboding bubbling in your gut.

You knew it was most likely baseless, just previous memories trying to unsettle you and get you to bolt. So you kept your head up and walked in.

The décor was the same as well, not much had changed in the last year you had stopped coming here.

Glancing down to your phone to see if Jin had texted you, you looked around for a free booth when a voice called for you, raising goose bumps upon your skin.

Very slowly you turned, your eyes finding the dark mocha ones of THE ex boyfriend.

It was safe to say you had been hit by a bus.

Numerous emotions passed through you, too fast for you to catch one. Shock at seeing him looking up at you, horror at being caught like this, then suspicion and finally anger that you had been duped into seeing Min Yoongi…

Kim Seokjin had better run for his life.

Finally when you had some semblance of grip on your rampant feelings, you took a deep breath, freezing whatever part of heart that ached at the sight of him.

You would not show weakness to the man who had blatantly exploited it once upon a time.

Facing him again, you plastered on the coldest, most polite smile you could muster.

“Yoongi, nice to see you again.”

The man in front of you was changed.

You didn’t know what it was or how to put a finger on it but you knew this wasn’t the man you had left.

The Yoongi you had known was a man who was rough around the edges, had a warm core but rarely ever let it out. At least, that was who you had fallen in love with. Slowly, the warm core had hardened, freezing everyone, especially you. He’d been snappish, sharp, with no leeway to give to you and you had had enough.

This man, however, he fumbled with his fingers, the tablecloth, mumbled his coffee order and his ears and cheeks were flushed with nervous red. He wouldn’t even meet your eye for more than a few seconds at a time but at the same time he would glance over your face more than he had ever done before.

“So,” you said.

“I just,” he began.

Both of you stopped, looking at each other in silence for a few seconds before you unraveled your arms, motioning for him to go ahead, watching him closely.

“Um, so,” Yoongi paused yet again, looking down with his lips moving. You could clearly hear a few muttered curses.

“Where’s Jin?” you decided to ask.

Yoongi jerked before looking up with wide eyes. “He…well, he’s not coming.”

“Why not,”

Yoongi looked downright embarrassed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Yes, but you never asked if I wanted to talk to you, you thought, scrunching your eyebrows a little. Could it have been a ploy? Did Yoongi steal Jin’s phone to ask you here?

“So, I wanted to talk to you about what happened that day.”

You looked away as the waiter arrived, placing your drinks in front of you, a simple black for him and a cappuccino for you. Yoongi sighed, tapping his fingers, letting the woman walk away a good distance before turning to you again.

“Is Jin ok? Any reason why he can’t make it…?”

“No, he’s fine. Look, Y/N, when I got home you weren’t there.” He said finally.

You tilted your head up. “Oh, so you noticed,”

Yoongi frowned. “Of course I noticed; how could I not?”

“Well, you didn’t need me. So, I’m wondering why you would want to ask this question now. Are you sure Jin can’t make it, because I should probably check, just in case.”

A sense of cold vindication lapped at you, filling you with vile satisfaction at seeing Yoongi’s face turn apoplectic. You began to delve in your purse, fingers fishing out your phone to text Jin, that he was dead the next time, if ever, you saw him.

Even before your fingers could swipe the screen on, rough fingers grabbed the top of the gadget, knocking it down your hand so it fell, clattering to the table.

You looked up immediately, irritation making your eyes flare and snap at him but Yoongi had already leant in, tightly gripping your wrist so you couldn’t pull away.

His face had bypassed red, shading towards purple now, as he almost bent over the table, trying to leer into your face. His eyes were reduced to slits, small lips pulled over his teeth. “I walked into my home; ready to apologize to the woman I love with her favorite flowers. I walked into an empty apartment with your things gone and no way to contact you. I spent the whole night waiting, awake, so you would maybe walk in and put me at ease. I stared at your damn key with that damn keychain mocking me for three days. You’re still there, Y/N. That house, it is you. I can’t be in there without you. I begged Jin to help me find you and now that you’re here, now that I want to talk to you, all you can think of is Jin? Is that what you care about in this situation? Because I think,”

“I don’t care what you think.”

Yoongi stopped short, eyes popping wider when he saw the surprise pooling straight out of your face, leaving it cool and expressionless.

You snatched your hand out of his grip, letting his hand fall to the table.

“I could care less about what you think, Min Yoongi. You spent three days waiting for me? I spent five. I spent five days waiting for you to show up on the doorstep of our home. I gave you five days even after deciding that I was going to leave. Why? Because I loved you, I loved you so much that the idea of leaving you immediately hurt me, so I waited. I would stay awake till three in the morning on the couch sometimes because that’s when you would come home. So, don’t give me shit about waiting. You begged Jin to help you? I had to take a whole interrogation from my best friend about why I was at her place at midnight because I left on the sixth day of you not coming over. You didn’t have to even come over, Yoongi. You could’ve called. You could’ve texted. Hell, I’d have taken a face book poke. You did nothing.”

Yoongi opened his mouth but you weren’t done yet.

“And you’re right about not needing me, I just didn’t realize it; I don’t need you either. You don’t even know anything about me. I learned to live without you and now I see all the things that I was doing when you were in my life, is no different to what I’m doing now. I work, I hang out with my friends, I come home, albeit I don’t have one of my own anymore but I’m working on it. So I am,”

“I do need you.”

Yoongi finally spoke; quiet affirmation sent your way that had you stuttering over your last sentence.

“I am the one who actually needs you. You calm me, you inspire me, and you’re my quiet. You don’t make me lonely. It took me ages to find out but I know I took you for granted and I can’t hope to apologize for the way I’ve treated you. All I can say is that I will do anything to make up for it.”

You stared at him for a bit, before looking away, grabbing your phone and bag.

“Y/N,” he said one last time, eyes pleading as he stared up at you. His hand twitched as if he was going to reach out.

“You’re too late, Yoongi.” You said your voice low and devoid of the maddening heartache you were going through. You couldn’t go back to him. You’d lived without him all through your relationship. You could do it even while you were done with him.

And…you’d have to be done with all of them.

Yoongi had no desire to go back to the Dorm, knowing that by now his members would’ve found out about his break-up. The last thing he wanted was their concern. All he wanted was to go to his home and lie down, wrapped in a thick blanket and just stay there but even that wasn’t an option.

His home was with her, and she had left him.

Of course when he did reach the Dorm, trying to bypass it to go straight to his studio, his way was blocked by extra broad shoulders.

“How did it go?”

Yoongi sighed, looking over Jin’s shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jin muttered something before placing a hand on Yoongi. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me, Yoongi-ah.”

Yoongi’s eyes flared as he scowled at Jin. “She doesn’t want me anymore. I promised myself that if she wanted to move on I would let her. I have no choice now to move on myself.” He shook of his eldest’s hand before disappearing back into his studio.

The change was perceptible.

Her absence had perforated Yoongi. It had frozen the group somehow.

To no one’s surprise, Y/N had stopped replying to Jin and the others, making them all slightly hesitant around the oldest rapper. When his actions and Jin’s trick to get you to speak to him leaked out – well, there were no secrets within the dorm, the younger ones had even stopped indulging Jin for a while.

Yoongi now felt like an outsider, where he had been accepted for who he was for the first time.

He didn’t know when, but Yoongi soon found himself going back to the swings. The notebook came with him out of habit but nothing happened, all Yoongi could do was slowly swing himself to and fro, listening to the creaks.

The cold night air chilled him but he still liked it. At least his skin was still capable of feeling something.

Yoongi closed his eyes, tilting his head as he raised his legs the way you would sometimes, swinging a bit faster.

“Hey,”

Yoongi’s eyes flew open, head whipping around to look at the source of the voice as his legs dropped down to abruptly stop his movement. It hurt, burning the soles of his shoes but he was too busy looking at you.

You were bundled up tightly, the soft coat wrapping around you with your arms as you gazed at him with a slight quirk of your lips.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here.”

All Yoongi could do in reply was stare mindlessly at you.

You leant forward a little before sighing, walking over to him and taking off your gloves. “What’s with you? Do you know how cold it is?” You asked, tapping his knuckles to present to you. He helplessly complied, letting you put your gloves on him.

“Y/N,” he finally managed. “What are you doing here?”

You slowed, lowering your hands and eyes. “I…” you sighed, backing to sit into the other swing, where you used to be, right next to him. “This is going to sound really stupid but I can’t stop thinking about what you said.”

“Oh,” Yoongi followed your gaze down to your shoes. “I want you to know if you don’t want to see me again, I’ll understand.”

“That’s just it. I thought I could live without you. I felt like I had been doing even when we were together so it should be easy right? But, what you said about what I was to you…for all the time, you were exactly that to me.”

Yoongi wanted to reach out to you so bad, brush some hair back so he could look into your eyes but he refrained, focused on your words.

“Now that I know that you won’t be coming back or I won’t be coming to you, I feel like I have lost my own peace. I’m getting on my roommate’s nerves,” you chanced a small sheepish smile at Yoongi but he just stared at you.

“So, where do we go from here?” He intoned.

You shrugged. “I don’t really know, Yoongi. I won’t lie. You hurt me a lot. I don’t know if you see it but you did. I…it will take some time for me to trust you again.”

Yoongi nodded, his lower lip jutting out a little at your still closed expression.

“But…I want to try again. Maybe it’ll work this time around, maybe it won’t.”

“I’ll make it work.” Yoongi blurted out immediately, sliding off the swing to stand in front of you. His hands, covered in your gloves wrapped around your shoulders, lifting you to your feet too.

“I know it will take me a while but I will make it work for you, for us. I need you with me. I can’t even explain how it’s been since you’ve been gone. I will do anything to keep you next to me. I’ll even release a statement if that’s what it takes. I’ll come home to you every day. Fuck the media.”

You shushed him as his volume rose, pressing bare skin against his lips. Yoongi leaned into the touch instinctively, a smile blossoming on your face at the natural action.

“It’s fine. I don’t need or want that much attention…but it will be nice to have you next to me again.” You agreed.

Yoongi nodded, hesitantly eyeing you before wrapping his arms slowly around you, watching you in case you pushed him away.

You didn’t, instead letting him pull you closer to him so he could place your head on his chest, sighing into your hair.

You hoped that you would be able to make it work because this was home and you didn’t want to leave again.

[ohmytheon]

Can I request something angsty for Kacchako? I'm living for this ship right now and like I'm soooo here for some angst.

I know this is massively late, but I definitely never forgot about this. I’ve just been so busy with life and my big fics. However, I was struck with an idea and decided to write this. I’ve never written a character death fic, mostly because I never read this since they make me sob like a little baby. HOPEFULLY, this fulfills the prompt for you because this is angsty as hell.

Bakugou was drunk and he hated it, but there was no getting around it now. He’d known it was a bad idea the second he wrapped his hand around the first beer. He’d really known it was a bad idea when he chugged it like it was water. Four beers and two shots later, all of it resting on a near empty stomach, he was feeling the effects of the alcohol, somehow dulling his mind and making his emotions jump from one shaky pillar to the next.

He hated it.

To be honest, he didn’t drink that often. There wasn’t a lot of downtime when it came to being a hero. If he wanted to rise to the top as fast as possible, he had to put in extra hours at the agency instead of slacking off. He was twenty-four with his own agency and a wide variety of sidekicks under his belt, some of them older than him. Through trial and error, he’d managed to get in the top ten when he was twenty-three. The whole world was at his fingertips. He could accomplish everything and nothing could ever bring him down.

And then Bakugou had found himself stuck in his own agency, staring at a television, as one of his closest friends died, two hours away and completely out of his reach.

It was still hard to believe what had happened. It seemed like they would live forever – like they were invincible, especially one whose quirk specifically made him so. Bakugou struggled to remember ever seeing him scratched or bruised. Hell, he’d had one of those zero point robots fall on him in the obstacle course of their first Sports Festival and he’d survived. It hadn’t seemed like anything could break though his hard exterior, much less kill him.

But Kirishima was gone and Bakugou felt sick to his stomach, the alcohol rolling uncomfortably as his mind fell back to his friend.

It had been three weeks since Bakugou had last seen him. With the fact that they worked in different parts of the country and the hours that they worked, especially Bakugou, it was hard for them to see each other often. How many times had he turned down Kirishima’s invites to hang out? It hadn’t been from a lack of wanting – he had missed his friend – but he hadn’t had the time. He had things to do, goals to meet, people to save, villains to capture. There hadn’t been the time.

Bakugou dug his fingers into his hair and hid his face. He should’ve given it the time. He should’ve made it a priority. He should’ve called Kirishima more often, made more of an effort to see him and the others, fucking anything but this. He was proud of all that he had accomplished, but he hadn’t realized the cost until now. All the times that he’d put his hero work above anything else meant little when he just wanted to see his best friend one more time.

“Bakugou?” a timid voice asked.

Fuck. He closed his eyes and didn’t move, thinking that maybe she’d leave if he didn’t give any indication that he’d heard her. He didn’t want her here – he couldn’t take the pity or anything she might give him – but then she was as stubborn as Kirishima. She didn’t leave people in their time of need. She’d seen his pain in the way he hunched his shoulders and the misery he’d tried to drown in the empty shot glasses in front of him. She wouldn’t leave him alone, not now, just as Kirishima wouldn’t have if it had been her instead of him.

“What do you want, Round Face?” Bakugou asked, his voice raw from the burning alcohol. He hadn’t been crying, but damn if his throat wasn’t constricting like it wanted to. Maybe he had to throw up. It wouldn’t have been the first time today since he’d thrown up on the way to the funeral.

“A drink,” Uraraka replied, sitting down next to him at the bar. Bakugou peered at her from a small opening between his arms and watched as she ordered a drink and then gave a signal that told the bartender to cut him off. Irritation flashed through him, but he didn’t fight it. His stomach rolled at the thought of drinking more. She took the shot, made a face, and then set the glass down. Her face smoothed out and her shoulders slumped. “You haven’t called me that in a while. I kinda missed it.”

“You didn’t come here to wax-nostalgic about the past,” Bakugou grumbled. “What are you doing here? Come to babysit me?”

“Can’t I just have a drink or two?” Uraraka questioned, her tone a little sharp. “It’s been a long day.”

Bakugou pulled his head out of his arms and resting his chin on top of them so that he was slumped over the batop. “Didn’t peg you for the drinking when you’re sad type.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“That’s because I’m not sad,” Bakugou replied dryly.

Uraraka didn’t respond to that. She knew that it was bullshit and he knew that she knew. It didn’t matter. Everyone had struggled today. Seeing all of his classmates, former teachers, and pro heroes bunched up in one area had been painful. Having Kirishima’s mother hug him and sob had been even worse. Bakugou hadn’t wanted to drink until that moment, but he had to forget the way he froze on the spot. He had to forget how he’d failed to properly take care of her, like Kirishima would’ve wanted. All he could do was hold her mutely while she rambled on about how much her son had respected him and that he was like family.

If he was so close to Kirishima, then why had it been so long since they’d last seen each other? They texted and called each other frequently, but Bakugou could’ve done more to see him. Hell, he’d only been able to swing by Kirishima’s for the holidays last year. What kind of friend was he?

“Red Riot is down! I repeat, Red Riot is down!”

Bakugou gripped an empty beer bottle, smoking sizzling from his palm as he readied to explode, when Uraraka put her hand over his. It had to burn her at least a little. Her palms weren’t soft like they had been in school, not after years of being a pro hero, but they weren’t built to hold explosions like his. Nonetheless, she didn’t let go, not until the smoke cleared.

“What do you need me to do?” Uraraka asked him quietly.

Leave me the hell alone. What good am I? What kind of friend can I really be when it’s obvious that I only give a shit about myself?

“Catch up,” Bakugou said instead.

Uraraka’s face hardened. “Only if you drink some water.”

Bakugou groaned and said, “Gods, you’re so fucking considerate,” but waved down the bartender to get two shots for her and a water for him. She jumped in to request a chaser. “Baby.”

“I didn’t eat much today,” Uraraka pointed out.

“I didn’t either and I’m still alive,” Bakugou shot back. She rolled her eyes, but turned to thank the bartender for the drinks. She reached for her wallet, but then Bakugou grabbed her wrist with one hand and pulled out his card with the other. It was a surprisingly deft move, considering how much alcohol he had in his system. Uraraka didn’t fight him like she normally did when he paid for her. That was one small mercy.

She took the shots a lot slower than him, drinking the chaser in between. Once she was finished, her whole body shook with a shudder. It must’ve burned her something fierce. She smacked her lips and finished off her chaser. “Ugh, that was disgusting. I haven’t drank in months.”

“Doesn’t feel very good, does it?” Bakugou drawled.

“Then why do it?” Uraraka asked.

“Because I already feel like shit,” Bakugou said, “but I want to feel worse.”

Uraraka sighed. “If you’re punishing yourself for not being there–”

“I’m not,” Bakugou interrupted. She stared at him with a little frown and disbelieving eyes. So deep and brown, like the bark on a tree. So sad too. He could tell that she’d been crying, red rimming her eyes despite her best attempts to fix it with makeup. “Really, I’m not. I was two hours away working on a murder investigation with the police. There was nothing I could do.”

“Then what are you doing here?” Uraraka asked, throwing his earlier question back in his face.

At first, Bakugou didn’t know what to say. What was he doing here? It wasn’t like him to drink himself into oblivion when he was upset or angry. Not that he’d ever felt like this before. Even when All Might had been forced to retire after saving him from the League, he’d not felt this much pain. It felt like his insides were being ripped out and put on display. It was savage and unforgiving and all he wanted to do was call Kirishima and vent to him, but he couldn’t.

“There were a lot of things that I could’ve done that I didn’t,” he settled on.

“Isn’t that what being a hero about?” Uraraka asked.

“That’s not what being a friend is about,” Bakugou countered.

Uraraka’s face softened. “Bakugou, you’re a great friend. You were his best friend, above all else.”

“I definitely didn’t act like it half the time.” He couldn’t handle the look on her face. It wasn’t pity; it was understanding, which felt worse somehow. He knew that she understood what he felt and that only made him want to hide more. Damn her. “I should’ve taken the time…”

“He knew,” Uraraka told him gently, a sad smile on her face. “You’re hard to deal with sometimes and you can be distant and push people away when you’re in your own head and your role as a hero is more than a job to you, but he knew.”

Bakugou wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe it more than anything. Come in a few weeks, maybe he would. It didn’t make things any easier. Kirishima was gone and no amount of alcohol could fill that void in his chest. It just made him feel dead inside, the alcohol having dulled all of his senses, as if that might make him closer to his friend, but instead it only made him alone and he couldn’t even manage to be pissed off about it.

“C’mon,” Uraraka sighed, sliding off the stool, “let’s get you home.”

“You can’t drive either,” Bakugou said.

Uraraka waved her phone in the air. “That’s what cabs are for.”

Even though he didn’t really want to go home, not where his apartment was empty and stifling, he found that he didn’t want to stay here either, especially if she was leaving. He paid his tab and then dropped off his stool, slinking out of the bar after her.

It was cold as hell outside, the air chilly enough to make him grit her teeth and bury his hands in his pockets, but the alcohol in his system gave him a false sense of warmth. Next to him, Uraraka shivered and he thought to give her his jacket, but he didn’t move. When the cab pulled up, he shuffled inside and was faintly surprised when she followed and gave the driver his address. Oh, did she not trust him to go home or did she think that he shouldn’t be alone? Shouldn’t she be taking care of herself right now?

(Maybe she didn’t want to be alone either. She and Kirishima had gotten closer after school. They’d done a lot of missions, particularly rescue ones, together over the years.)

Once they reached his place, the two of them shuffled out of the cab. Bakugou stumbled a little more than he would’ve liked (which meant, he didn’t want to stumble at all), but recovered before Uraraka’s outstretched hand could catch him. He experienced the memory of her quirk being used on him, but instead of making him feel free and wanting, it made his stomach roll. Fucking alcohol. This is why he hated being drunk. It turned everything on its end.

His apartment was much more lavish than hers. It came with growing up in a household where aesthetics were part of the job. He actually really liked his place, but at this moment, he hated every inch of it. There weren’t a lot of personal touches, so he only had a few pictures. Would it have killed him to have more of his friends? Take away a few pictures and this apartment could’ve belonged to anyone. There was so little in it that suggested someone was living their best life – that they had people that they loved and loved in return.

Uraraka flicked on a light and started for his kitchen. “Do you have anything to eat? You should get something on your stomach.”

“I’m not hungry,” Bakugou told her flatly, kicking the door shut.

“Good thing I wasn’t asking if you were hungry,” Uraraka said as she dug through his fridge.

Bakugou stared at her back, thinking of all the times someone else had been in his place. She’d come here a few times, along with Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari, and Mina. It wasn’t very often though. His place was his own sanctuary. He should’ve had them over more. It didn’t make sense that he’d kept them out of it. He’d gotten better about letting people in, hadn’t he? She acted more familiar with his place than she was, perhaps in a bid to keep things calm and him under control.

No, not control. Keep him from breaking – from exploding.

Ah, but that was the issue though, wasn’t it? Because that was what he did.

It had been work, work, work for so long that Bakugou had missed out on so much. He’d missed birthdays, marriages, births even. His friends had made other steps in their lives while he had made himself stagnant in order to get to the top. Maybe the only one who could understand all that he had sacrificed was Deku, who had put half of his life on hold as well to become number one. Kirishima used to always joke that Bakugou needed to get out more. Live a little, if you will. Smell the roses.

“It doesn’t have to be lonely at the top,” Kirishima would say.

But it was. He’d done it to himself. He had goals and he couldn’t afford any distractions, even ones that were sweet and light and made him feel like he was in the clouds. Kirishima knew that too and often nagged him about it. He could take so much to the grave with him if Bakugou let him. No one knew him so well as Kirishima did. Had.

Alone. He’d made himself alone. He had stood in a crowd of friends, former classmates, heroes, old teachers, family and he had felt utterly alone. After all had been said and done, he had gone off to the bar on his own, vanishing before any of the others could try to rope him into doing something as a group. He couldn’t bear the idea of reminiscing when all he wanted to do was forget. The awful thing was that all he could do was remember. All the good times and the bad ones and the ones in between and the times that he’d missed.

He couldn’t take it. He’d fled like a fucking coward. It was only when Uraraka had appeared, bright even in the middle of her own grief, that he could admit it. He wasn’t being strong and he knew that she would say that he didn’t have to be, but then why was she here, pulling leftovers out of his fridge and humming a slow, sad song under her breath? He could see the exhaustion in her body no matter how much she tried to hide it with the pep in her step.

Was she afraid of being alone after today as much as he’d been afraid of not being able to handle being around others?

Without thinking, Bakugou flicked the lights off and Uraraka stopped immediately, turning around to query, “Bakugou–?” But he didn’t give her the chance to finish, not when he was on her in a flash, cupping her face and digging her fingers in her hair so that strands of it fell out of her carefully done bun. There was only a second when their eyes met, the moonlight glowing in hers through the window, and he saw not fear or even surprise in them. It would’ve taken him nights lying awake to figure out what rested in her eyes in this moment.

He pressed his lips against hers, not the gentle and sweet kiss that she deserved, not the one that said how much she should be cherished. It was crushing and needy, all consuming in how much he demanded from her. There was little time for them to breathe as he kissed her and he could hear both of them gasping for air every time their lips parted a hint. He shoved her back until she was pressed against the fridge and slid one of his hands down to rest on her hip, gripping the material of her modest black dress and pulling her against him.

“Bakugou,” Uraraka breathed and he wanted to groan or growl and he couldn’t breathe. He could taste the liquor on her tongue and it made his head spin. She pressed her hands against his chest, spreading her fingertips, but was careful to keep her pinky fingers in the air. “Bakugou, stop.”

And he did, just like that. It wouldn’t have mattered how much alcohol he had or how unsettled he felt today. The moment she spoke that one word, he did as she told him.

Instead of pushing him away though, like her palms suggested, she leaned her forehead against his, both their eyes closed. Their air between their lips smelled intoxicating. “I don’t–” She gripped the front of his vest tightly as he pulled his hands away. “I can’t. Not tonight. Not like this.” He swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing, and barely nodded his head, moving hers with his. She loosened her grip, slid her arms around him, and rested her head against his chest. “I won’t let you do this alone though. It’s not right.”

Bakugou almost laughed, cold and desperate, but caught himself. She would be able to cut to the heart of his fear and it terrified him, but instead of running and doing it on his own, he wrapped his arms around her and held her against him. There were a lot of things he could say – a lot that he should have – but they would have to wait until the morning. It was piss poor timing and he felt vulnerable and spiteful and utterly worn thin, but he wasn’t alone. He took a deep breath and then let it out with a sigh. Kirishima wouldn’t have left him alone either.

You were right, Bakugou thought. I don’t have to do everything on my own.

But it would take time to accept that even further, especially without someone goading him along. He had to take the first step, the first one of many to move past this, and he would. Just maybe he didn’t have to do it alone.

[leo--chimaira-blog]

New Face of Fear

Leo wished he’d been a little smarter with the whole letting Noah out of his cage at the request of Reza, Cahill, and one unknown werewolf. The Family finding out about it was inevitable, as Dharm always knew about problems before they even happened, yet he felt like he could’ve played up his part a bit more. They could’ve thrown him around a little more (though he still had a colossal, massive hand-shaped bruise on his face from that highly dangerous alpha, Cahill, which definitely helped), or threatened more creatively to make it feel more like he had no choice in the matter. The way things went, he all but rolled out the red carpet for them and sent them away with goodie bags, which the Family certainly wouldn’t be happy hearing.

Here, there weren’t secrets (or, he wasn’t allowed secrets of his own, the hypocritical snakes), or so much as the whitest of fibs, there were sins that were temporarily overlooked by Dharm until they built up enough to warrant punishment. Today, Leo realized as his phone buzzed with an ominous Meet me in the basement, was the day he reached the end of his chain.

Well, freedom was nice while it lasted. A small, weak part of him was looking forward to having things like personal agency locked back away by the Gift, because really, he didn’t even know how to begin to process that their whole group murdered nonhumans without so much as letting them say goodbye to their families. The Family dismissed them as a liability, something to be exterminated, but in reality, every creature was different, and even if they were evil through and through, it was still insanely cruel to let them all starve to death, or keep them in cages like he’d done to Noah, or shoot them in the head like Maryse ordered of that intruding man. Leo didn’t know how to go about living with that on his shoulders, couldn’t begin to fathom.

Going against Dharm was already a strain on his poor mind, as he suffered from feeling insect legs up and down his spine and bat wings all through his guts and his neck muscles were so tense from it all he’d probably have knots in them until he died. The link was too faint to do anything except hum unhappily and occasionally make him spout propaganda when he was trying to talk to people. He didn’t want to continue to act in a way that made those effects continue, plus Dharm probably had a lot to say about responsibility and consequences.

More than anything, Leo wished he didn’t know. He wished he was capable of returning to Dharm’s arms and accept whatever fate was planned for his insubordination. And with the Gift backing his dad up, he may have no choice but to bend to his will.

That in itself didn’t scare Leo. It’d been the dynamic since day one. Everyone else, however, the ones outside their control, all running around directionless and loveless that he found off-putting. He had purpose with Dharm.

But after everything he’d seen… it was all a lie. How could they have everyone’s best interest at heart when that involved promising to rehabilitate nonhumans and then neglecting them until they died in agony? They knew it was wrong enough to hide.

Leo wasn’t supposed to know. His role was to struggle, to be a gentle, malleable prince who’d only toughen up when Dharm died and it came time for him to inherit the Relics, keeping his faithful aunt and uncles by his side to advise, lofty positions safe even as the crown changed heads. Certainly none of them expected him to find out about their sick little setup, much less start developing opinions of his own on the matter.

At the point, he didn’t have a choice. Leo couldn’t just go back to being ignorant, as appealing as it was, no matter what he faced in the basement.

He puttered around the kitchen for another minute, drinking a cup of water to stall for time and prepare.

Already, the old letters branded into the small of his back throbbed in anticipation, as they were a favorite target of Dharm’s when it came time to be physical. Leo wished he’d pick another place to torment; the scars healed slow, flesh so ruined from the initial fire and all the times it’d been reopened, toyed with, or scorched again that it scarcely closed up anymore. Follow, it once read, inflicted with love and the desire for Leo to take its meaning to heart, but the letters were now warped almost beyond recognition.

Despite his numerous reservations and growing sense of dread, Leo’s instinct to be a dedicated son won out as he finished his water, placed the used glass in the dishwasher, ruffled his hair, and made his way to the basement. Its eerily creaky door paired with stairs that sounded like dying cats under his feet let Dharm know he was on his way down to the earth-scented room.

The space was circular in shape with a faded creamy brown wallpaper that peeled up around the edges, a wooden floor upon which was carved a number of commands (they may have summarized the speech from his seminars, but Leo’s head spun too hard when he tried to read what they said, too slippery and elusive for him to absorb), enough ancient rugs to cover the words up, and Dharm’s rocking chair, similarly marked. For now, it also contained Dharm himself, seated sagely with his lantern propped up on his knee, watching his son pad off the final step with disappointment already fresh over his pointed features.

“Hey, dad. You called me?” Leo tried weakly, like he wasn’t aware of exactly what this little meeting was about. “What’s up?”

“Leo,” Dharm sighed, “don’t play this game today. You know what you did.”

“What did I do?”

His blue eyes glinted in the dim light, unreadable. “I’ve been hearing some pretty strange stories. People are saying there was a werewolf on the property who wasn’t initiated. Have you heard anything about that?”

Leo shook his head innocently.

“So you don’t know he got busted out a few nights ago?”

Another head shake.

“Say it out loud.”

“I had no idea he was here.”

Dharm laughed, cold. “Boy, you are a hoot. You realize what you’ve done, right? You just confirmed your role in his release. And you lied to me.”

The accusation was clear in his voice. It was one thing to keep a secret, but quite another to speak slander to the face of the man who controlled all Gifts. Leo should be compelled to tell the truth at all times, but instead was sticking to his false guns with only mild efforts. It was under Dharm’s skin, too, fingers curled too tight around the handle of the lantern, leaning forward in his chair with interest, icy eyes appraising.

He was gearing up to tear the prodigal son down into his rightful place, under his heel, too obedient for deceit, but Leo didn’t want to go along anymore. “I never lied to you.

“But you did. Just now.” Dharm’s lips pulled back over his teeth. “This game you’re playing, Leo, it’s making you weak. Working against your own family? That’s a sin. I can feel it eating away at you.”

Leo’s skin crawled. The remnants of the spirit linking him to Dharm was beginning to thrum alive from where he’d pushed it down, weakened after the trauma of discovering the legion of dead. He wasn’t going to bow to its will. He knew better. But he couldn’t quite form the words to tell the man no.

“Obey,” said his dad sternly, stepping into the center of the room and jerking his head in a ‘come here’ motion.

Leo guiltily allowed himself to be moved, less from the desire to continue down this road and more out of habit. He was bent over backwards at the knees, shoulders supported by Dharm’s thigh, kept from sliding off with a firm arm looped around his neck. The position was reminiscent of being baptized, but instead of crashing to the floor, Leo was suspended there, helpless to his dad’s will, nothing to break his fall if he were to wriggle away, head left to dangle awkwardly. Dharm’s free hand came down like a vice, heel resting just between his brows, palm flat and fingers clawing to keep him still. From here, he couldn’t run, or speak, or even struggle. Not that he would’ve, since Dharm hated being interrupted.

“It’s my fault too, of course. I’ve let you run wild without consequence for too long. I saw this malice growing inside you and did nothing.” The voice was cold and husky and came from everywhere.

Leo thought that was a load of manure. Behind his eyes flashed the dozens of dozens of nonhumans which lay without graves, mangled and forgotten, without allowing them even a goodbye to their families. He could imagine all too clearly what it must’ve been like to sit there, still as death, docile, and silent as hunger and thirst raged in their bones, surrounded by rot, yet having complete faith that any minute, an initiate would come with the secret to enlightenment, setting them free from their terrible affliction, which was, obviously, their nature. Or worse, they might’ve just sat there fully aware that nobody was coming, and being perfectly okay with it. Their lives were putty in the hands of the Family, falling through their fingers to splat on the sidewalk and cook into clay under the sun.

And on top of all that, how many times had they fabricated this pretense? How long were they watching, laughing at him and his rosy blindfold, preaching about their superiority when they knew full well that they were just as ugly as anyone else? No, Leo wouldn’t bend his will so easily. Not when Noah was the only living soul to escape death’s greedy claw.

He was glad the kid free, because he was safe and with his own weird family, and Leo could accept his part in the whole thing and move on. It was strange that he of all people, who lived and breathed for his family, who knew better than anyone else how family kept each other sane, played a part in keeping the guy from his werewolf pack and Reza. They were pretty damn happy to have Noah back. Dharm was just mad that Leo wasn’t acting according to his dictation any longer.

“Consider this my apology, boy. I’ve let you suffer too long in chaos. When I rip it out,” here his hissing voice became like gravel, pronouncing the rest with awful leisure, “you’ll be empty enough to fill with fear.”

With the force of the Relic to back him up, Dharm’s palm seared against Leo’s scalp. The vision blurred, morphing into something darker, corpses turning monstrous, growing fangs, skin purpling, yellow eyes rolling around dully as if they were all intricate puppets springing around with an unseen hand pulling at their spines, tickling their dead nerves into spastic motion, spewing maggots and liquefied intestines at every twitch from their gaping mouths and spots where flesh flaked clean away from the bone. But more than that, more than disgust, more than panic, Leo’s link had lit up, helpless to do anything except experience the terror that echoed wildly between them.

“We fight monsters for a reason.” Dharm leaned down and whispered so close to his ear, he could feel his stale breath on his cheek. “Fear brings order, isn’t that what I’ve always told you? From the state you’re in, removing all that chaos will hurt. I expect you to bear it proudly. It’s for your Family.”

Leo’s mouth fell open in horror, brain kindling beneath his skull. He tried to jerk away, and was met with a harsh squeeze of fingertips into his temple. This wasn’t right, it was the Family who wallowed in chaos and deception, not Leo, but the thought melted away like dew through the rising temperature.

“I’ve got you, boy.”

Dharm’s entire body rumbled with the words, but Leo didn’t hear, eyes rolled back in his head, ears beginning to bleed, leaking steadily down his neck. He was paralyzed with the movement of the Gift. It was writhing like a squirrel was trapped there, caught between using its contents to build a nest and trying desperately to escape, gnawing and clawing, making room by any means possible. Dharm told him to be composed, so he didn’t make a single sound, biting his tongue even as his body arched.

What was the point of his rebelliousness? What good did free will do when all it got him was dragged into his place with all the ceremony of a spider waiting for its venom to still its tangled dinner? Was it worth it? In that moment, webs tangling up his mind, Leo decided it wasn’t. He surrendered, blacking out.

Time passed.

He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, couldn’t move, and if it weren’t for the swollen, satisfied thing behind his ears, he’d have suffocated. He was the same as those awful dead beasts. Disobedient. Chaotic. Straying from the path of enlightenment.

He didn’t deserve his own breath as long as he worked against Dharm.

Swimming closer to awareness, his eyes fluttered open, he recognized that he was laying on his front, neck just beginning to ache from being turned at an uncomfortable angle. Maryse had joined them, standing against the wall with her arms crossed, sorrowful as she watched Dharm, who knelt over Leo’s back with her borrowed knife. The superheated blade following the same old path along the ruined skin and shot nerves. He thought he’d be sick, hurting worse and worse with every pass.

Follow. He intended to. Whatever conflict- its exact nature eluded him currently- wasn’t worth fighting with his family. This was where he belonged.

He must have made some noise- already going back on the resolution to stay silent- because immediately both eyes snapped to him, and momentarily, the pain ceased. Like a comforting blanket, the refreshed link jumped to follow some unspoken command from his dad, smothering Leo back into oblivion so he didn’t have to feel the sharp, ever-burning point return to his spine.

[swordandcat]

Coming Home

(AO3 Link)

NSFW Warning! ChikaYo smut

disclaimer: Yo is bi

It’s remarkable how much things can stay the same, even after years have passed.

Yo looks out of the window as she drives her pickup truck down the lazy roads of Uchiura. It’s like a page out of a history book; a lazy coastal town forgotten by the passage of time, forever trapped in an idyllic limbo. Even over the rumble of the engine, Yo can hear the nostalgic gurgle of the waves rushing up onto shore, ebbing and flowing in a mesmerizing pattern. She can smell the salt and slight sweetness in the air, a blend of the scents of mikan groves further uphill and the salty brine from the ocean blue. It’s the same squat houses lining the street, the same traditional shopfronts, maybe a little more worn and battered but still holding out.

Still, as she looks, she notices that inevitably civilization has crept its way into the little town. A few of the older stores have been replaced by newer stores, some of them chain stores from Numazu. The town must’ve refurbished some of the public facilities as well - she spots rows of benches, sometimes, and that old playground they always used to go to looks a little cleaner than before.

Spotting a familiar driveway, Yo coaxes the truck to a gentle stop, parking it in front of a large, traditionally constructed building. The front looks the same, at least, Yo muses, poking her head out of the window to look around. The dog houses seems to have multiplied even more, she notes, and the old flowers in the gardens swapped out for newer bushes. But otherwise everything looks like not a day has passed since Yo's last been here.

Yo tries to make an effort to visit, but work just piles up, and adulting is harder than she expected.

“Ah— Shiitake, no! You’re gonna leave drool all over my— Bad girl! Let go!”

Yo's ears perk up at the sound of a certain voice, burned into her memory since forever. Yo doesn’t think she could forget that voice even if she tried. A woman stumbles out of the front of the Tochiman inn, dragging along a large shaggy dog which has latched itself onto her leg. She struggles for a moment, before she looks up and notices Yo waiting.

“Yo, Yo!” She waves.

Yo rolls her eyes. “Are you ever going to stop using that line?” She asks, getting out of the truck and shutting the door behind her. Shiitake’s eyes seem to light up as Yo approaches, detaching itself from Chika and pouncing at Yo. “Whoa, girl! Down!”

Chika grins, shaking her head as she steps up to give Yo a hug. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it; that’s the Takami family way. Well, mostly my way, but Takami family also!”

“I guess some things never change,” Yo says wryly, returning Chika’s hug after administering satisfactory belly rubs to Shiitake. She holds the hug for a moment, and Chika continues the hug for maybe a second longer than is necessary before she pulls away, giving Yo a brilliant smile, her eyes gleaming happily. “How are you doing, Chika? You look… different.”

Chika’s grown her hair out; she looks almost like Shima, but she still keeps part of her hair braided, and she still has a bit of an ahoge. Her figure has definitely filled out, though. While Yo's been busy working out and building up the physique of a professional athlete, Chika’s body has rounded out into a figure more fitting of a woman than a girl.

“Hey now, eyes up here, hotshot,” Chika says, and Yo's eyes shoot back up to Chika’s face, flustered by being caught. Her cheeks burn a little from embarrassment. “That a good different, then?”

“Yeah,” Yo nods. “Great different. Definitely.”

Chika smiles, satisfied. “Good.” She scans Yo up and down, noticeably brisker than Yo's appraisal. “You look good, too. You’ve been working out.”

Yo flexes an arm. She’s buffer than ever, but she’s mindful of her routine so she’s not grossly ripped like those workout junkies. She doesn’t skip leg day, for one. Chika titters, but pushes Yo's arm down. “Spare me the gun show, Yo. God knows Kanan does it enough already.”

Yo laughs, and with a pat on the butt sends Shiitake back into the house. As much as she wants to catch up with the doggo, she promised Chika she’d take her for a joyride on her truck, and there’s only room for two in the pickup.

“I need to hit her up sometime. We haven’t had a proper talk in a while,” Yo says, sighing.

“Mm… who do you keep contact with? I barely see you online in the chatroom anymore,” Chika asks, as she circles around the truck to get to the passenger side. She pulls the door open, and gets into the truck. “Ooh. Soft seats. Comfy.”

“It’s well loved,” Yo laughs, patting the seat on the driver side before getting into the truck as well. As she starts the engine back up, she thinks about Chika’s question. “Well, Yoshiko’s still crashing in my apartment, but I don’t go home really often because training. Uh… When I have time I try to track down Ruby too, she’s still working at that fashion agency I think.”

“Well, I know for a fact that Kanan has time tomorrow, you can totally go see her then,” Chika says. “Mari’s probably there, too.”

“Tempting, but…” Yo shakes her head ruefully. “I gotta head back today. I don’t really have the time.”

“Aw. That’s a shame.” Chika sighs. “So… Yoshiko’s still trying to make it as a writer?”

“Yeah. It’s slow going but I think she managed to get the attention of a publisher a while back,” Yo says. She checks the mirror, and drives the truck back out onto the street. “She might be moving out soon. She mentioned maybe going to live with her girlfriend, but she’s not sure yet.”

“Dang. Look at her, having a meaningful relationship.” Chika says, kicking back to enjoy the ride. She glances at Yo. “So, where are you planning to take me, exactly?”

Yo shrugs. “Remember that time Mari took us all for a road trip, before the school closed down? It’s kinda like that. I just wanted to see you, I guess.”

“Aww. I missed you too.” Chika smiles.

Yo glances at Chika as she says that, and breathes out. “I’ve just been so busy recently.”

“Work?”

“That and school.”

Chika nods her head slowly, and the interior of the truck lapses into a comfortable silence.

Yo is a professional swimmer, but on the side she’s also furthering her studies in marine engineering. Chika once said she was being overambitious, but back then Yo had reassured her that nothing was going to change.

The frame of the truck rattles as it goes over a speed bump, and the µ’s bobbleheads on the dashboard jiggle vigorously. The truck gradually pulls away from the main street and into the outskirts of town, where there are more trees and hilly swells than houses.

“Oh, I saw your last competition,” Chika mentions.

“Did you now?”

“Well, I try to catch them whenever they’re being broadcasted.” Chika says. She gives Yo a small smile. “I want to know what my favourite person in the world is up to, you know? Especially if she doesn’t come online to chat.”

Yo's cheeks flush. “I said I was busy.”

“It can’t be that hard to come online once in a while,” Chika pouts. “Is competitive swimming really that intense?”

“Well I—” Yo starts, before she hesitates, falling silent for a moment. Finally she only meekly says, “Sorry. I’ll try harder in the future.”

“It gets kind of lonely here, now that Riko’s left for that concert tour,” Chika says. “I’d appreciate a call now and then.”

“I’ll call,” Yo nods. “I promise. I came back, didn’t I?”

“After what - a year of radio silence?” Chika says. “For a solid six months the only things I’ve heard of you came indirectly through Yoshiko and Ruby. The last private message I’ve got from you was from last year.”

Yo swallows, her mouth feeling dry.

There’s a quiet accusation in Chika’s tone; not openly hostile, more an undertone of disappointment. And it’s entirely justified. Chika’s acting as friendly as ever, but Yo is sure that she’s hurt Chika by avoiding her these few months.

“There was a lot going on,” Yo says weakly.

“Like what?” Chika says, her carefully controlled voice betraying just a hint of emotion.

“I, uh,” Yo breathes out slowly, keeping her eye on the road. She doesn’t dare look at what Chika’s expression is like. “It’s…” She falls silent, her mouth feeling dry.

“Yo,” Chika interjects, sensing her hesitation. Her voice is firm, but when she speaks again she’s gentle and supportive. “If there’s something going on, you know you can tell me.”

Yo glances at Chika. It’s easy to forget that, with how ditzy Chika can act even after graduating from college and settling down to run the inn, she’s always had this knack for noticing when things were wrong ever since they were kids. Chika’s surprisingly observant and sensitive like that.

Chika’s eyes seem to bore into her own, and Yo finds herself incapable of avoiding her gaze.

“…Fine.” Yo looks around for somewhere to stop. She spots a lay-by along the road, overlooking the ocean and the outskirts of town, and eases the truck into it. “It’s… kind of a long story.”

“We have time,” Chika says.

Yo glances at the clock on the dashboard. “True,” she admits. She leans back, sitting comfortably in the seat.

“I broke up with my boyfriend.”

Chika breathes in sharply.

Yo's been dating him since she was in college, and she’s even talked about possibly proposing. Chika’s tone softens immediately. “Oh…”

As though sensing Chika’s worry, Yo quickly shakes her head.

“No, it wasn’t like, bad or anything. It was sort of a long time coming. Between work, study, and everything else I just… didn’t have enough time. He said he couldn’t bear to see me run myself ragged trying to make time for him, too. Plus he wants kids, and I’m just… not ready for that kind of commitment. And… well, there’s just lots of little things that built up over time.”

Yo closes her eyes, recalling the night when they had talked over a home cooked dinner. It was a calm and reasonable affair, wherein they laid everything on the table and talked extensively about whether or not it was going to work out. Time was just one of the issues they discussed. After the decision was made, her ex left her apartment amicably, bidding her good luck in all of her future endeavours.

Yo had smiled and wished him the same, but once the door was shut the facade broke down and she bawled her eyes out. It wasn’t until Yoshiko got back after midnight that she got any consolation at all. The morning after Yo made Yoshiko promise not to tell anyone else what happened, because she didn’t want anyone to worry.

“How long ago was this?” Chika asks, quietly interrupting Yo's account.

“A couple months. But things were going downhill a long time before that.” Yo breathes out, and gives Chika a wry smile. “I guess you were right, going for that degree at the same time as going pro was a pretty terrible idea.”

Chika shakes her head incredulously. “I wish you’d believed me when I told you that last year, instead of putting yourself through this gauntlet.”

“Sorry,” Yo says weakly. “And… sorry for only coming back when things get messy. You deserve better.”

“Hey, listen. I’m always here, okay? I’m a little sad you’re too busy to talk more, but…” Chika gives Yo a comforting smile, putting a hand on her shoulder. “If you need a shoulder to lean on, I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thanks, Chika,” Yo sniffs, reaching out and holding Chika’s hand. Chika gives Yo's hand a soft squeeze. Yo takes a shuddering breath, and asks quietly, “I… did I make a mistake? Should I have fought harder for it to work?”

Chika bites her lower lip, hesitating for a moment before answering. “I… can’t really say, Yo. I wasn’t there. But I think you made the best decision you could have. You talked it out calmly, and… your ex agreed, didn’t he? Sometimes relationships just aren’t meant to last. Even if it was a good one. Like— me and Riko, right?”

Yo nods slowly. Chika and Riko had briefly gotten together after they graduated high school, and had a whirlwind romance for the next few months. She remembered how happy the two of them were. But it eventually became obvious that, with Riko having to study out of town, the distance was straining their relationship.

“I… guess,” Yo says hesitantly. She glanced at Riko. “How… did you deal with that?”

“Well, we kinda had the thought that it wouldn’t work. And sure, I was really upset for a while but eventually I realized it was healthier to be friends with Riko. I feel like recognizing that the change is positive is very important,” Chika says, “like for me, once I stopped fretting over Riko and our relationship I got rid of a lot of stress. I think you need to remind yourself why you two broke up in the first place. It’s because you didn’t have enough time, right?”

“Yeah…” Yo nods.

“You love diving. And I know better than anyone that you’re practically born for sailing,” Chika says kindly. “When it comes down to it, if you really do love those things… I don’t think it’s a mistake to keep pursuing them.”

Yo sighs. “But doesn’t that make me selfish?”

“Your ex wants you to be happy, Yo. It’s why he agreed with the decision. Can you honestly say that you won’t be miserable if you couldn’t do either of those things?” Chika asks. Yo grimaces, but eventually shakes her head. “See? It’s not selfish to want to pursue your passions. It’s not wrong to want to be happy.”

“I mean, I’m not saying you can’t be sad. It’s natural to be sad,” Chika adds hastily. “But… I don’t really want to see you being like this, all miserable like. You look better with a smile.”

Yo's reservations finally crumble under Chika’s optimism, and she sighs in defeat, before turning to give Chika a small smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m pretty fed up with being downtrodden.”

Chika breathes out in relief, and grins sunnily. “I’m glad,” she says, and Yo believes her. One thing that hasn’t changed about her. Chika emanates positivity, inspires hope and optimism. The grin is infectious and Yo can’t help but smile wider.

“So what do we do now?” Chika asks, and Yo smirks.

She slams a foot on the gas, and the pick-up jerks forward, causing Chika to squeak in surprise as she’s flattened against the back of her seat. The engine roars, and with a chassis-shaking growl, the truck screeches down the road, the wind whipping past, audible even through the windows.

“I don’t know,” Yo says, her voice buzzing from adrenaline. “But I wanna get outta here.”

Chika laughs breathlessly, recovering from the shock of the start. “Sounds good.” She rolls down the window, and her orange hair gets whipped back by the wind, fluttering behind her like a fiery trail. “Can this rust bucket go any faster?” Chika shouts over the rushing air.

“You bet,” Yo floors the accelerator and the truck hurtles forward. Chika’s laughing, the noise muted and drowned by the wind, and Yo feels the cobwebs surrounding her heart loosen a little.

* * * * *

A few hours later, Yo and Chika stagger out of the pick-up, giggling and leaning on each other. At some point in the road trip Chika decided it was a great idea to stop by a shop to buy booze. A few drinks later both women are pretty tipsy, and Yo determines it’s a little dangerous to drive when the road is swaying. Parking in a lot for a secluded beach, they barely manage to stumble down the steps leading up to the beachfront.

Yo takes a tarp she has in the trunk and throws it onto the sand to serve as a makeshift mat, and Chika falls forward, the fall cushioned slightly by the loose sand under the tarp. She laughs and gestures for Yo to join her.

“The sand’s still warm,” Chika says. The sand’s been baking in the sun for the whole day, and despite the fact that the sun’s now setting the grains have retained some of the heat. She turns over belly-up, then extends her arms, lying down spread-eagled on the tarp. “It’s like a hot bed. Come on!”

Yo rolls her eyes at her antics, but sits down next to Chika, setting the half-finished pack of Sapporo beer down in the sand. The sand is warm, and she grins, running a hand through the grains. “You’re right,” She says. “It’s comfy.”

“You know, this is almost like the beach we used to play on as kids,” Chika says, looking up at Yo. “Remember?”

Yo laughs. “How could I not? That’s my childhood,” she pauses to take a drink. “Our childhood,” She corrects herself. “Remember when Kanan thought she saw a dolphin off the coast and tried to swim to it? It took the two of us to stop her.”

“Oh yeah, the tide was wild that day. Even Kanan couldn’t have handled it,” Chika grins toothily. “Hard to believe Kanan’s practically a homebody now.”

“Can’t believe she actually married Mari,” Yo hums, leaning back so she’s more comfortable. She stares over at the golden horizon, and the flecks of white over the waves. “I thought for sure her parents would object.”

“It’s Mari. I’m not sure her parents can do anything about it.”

“True,” Yo concedes, “she’s always done what she wanted.” She smiles. “Well, at least they’re happy, right?”

Chika nods. “I heard Mari’s planning to take Kanan to the Bahamas.”

“Rich people,” Yo snorts. “Well, Kanan’d like that. There’s good diving to be had there.”

“Mm…” Chika nods ponderously.

There’s a lull in the conversation as they fall silent, listening to the crashing waves.

Yo's cheeks feel hot from the alcohol. The sea breeze playing across her face and the rumbling of the surf is like a lullaby, and she finds herself getting drowsy. The sun continues to set, most of the glowing orb dipping into the horizon and leaving the sky a lovely dark purple.

“Hey Yo,” Chika says suddenly.

Yo looks away from the sun. “Hm?”

“Sit in seiza,” Chika says. Yo tilts her head questioningly, but obliges, folding her legs beneath her to sit formally. To her surprise, Chika lays her head on Yo's lap, giving her a mischievous grin. “The sand’s not very comfortable,” Chika says, as though that explains everything.

Yo shakes her head incredulously. Chika’s always like this. She complains about Mari doing whatever she wants, but Chika does that too. Still, without really thinking about it she starts to run her fingers through Chika’s hair, petting her in slow, long strokes. It just seems like the right thing to do.

Chika’s hair is really nice. Yo's almost jealous, but having long hair would get in the way of her sports. Yo wonders if Chika uses any product. Maybe it’s just the hot springs in the inn. Her skin is really smooth, too.

“Are you feeling a little better now?” Chika asks softly. There’s a love and affection in her voice that stems from some twenty years of friendship, and Yo's heart flutters slightly.

“Yeah,” Yo murmurs. “Thanks, Chika.”

Chika closes her eyes, the corners of her lips tugging up in a satisfied smile. “I’m glad. I really don’t want to see you sad.”

Yo absentmindedly brushes Chika’s cheek with a thumb as she continues. “I don’t think you realize how important you are to me,” Chika confesses. “I was so worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Yo apologizes weakly, glancing down at Chika.

“Don’t apologize.” Chika murmurs. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters.”

Yo's heart flutters again. Maybe it’s the sunset, tinting everything rosy gold. Maybe it’s the babbling waves putting her mind at ease, and reminding her of better times. Maybe it’s the realization that in the years they’ve lived apart, Chika has really gotten beautiful. Maybe, it’s just the alcohol.

Whatever the reason, Yo leans in and tilts Chika’s head up slightly, planting a gentle kiss on Chika’s lips. Chika’s eyes flutter open in surprise, and their gazes meet for a moment. For a moment Yo worries she overstepped her boundaries, but then Chika smiles and all her worries melt away.

“Y’know, I’ve always had a small crush on you,” Yo admits.

“Yeah?” Chika asks softly.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Chika grins cheekily. “Go on, then. What’s next?”

A withheld laugh rumbles in Yo's chest as she kisses Chika again, this time firmer and more confident. Chika leans forward into the kiss, the ends of Yo's hair tickling her cheeks. Chika hums happily, a hand winding around Yo's neck and tangling in her hair, pushing her closer. Chika’s lips taste like hops, alcoholic. Yo can get drunk with that.

After a few seconds they move apart, a silver thread momentarily connecting their lips before breaking off. “Let’s get a little more comfortable,” Chika says, her voice low and husky. Yo is bent over herself trying to kiss Chika while she has her head on Yo's lap. Chika sits up, shifting so she’s half-kneeling and eye-level with Yo. “You want to do this, right?”

Yes, Yo wants to say immediately. God, yes. But the voice of reason in the back of her mind says this is Chika asking if Yo is really okay. She was so heartbroken just a few hours ago, is it really okay to do this with someone so soon? She’s still heartbroken.

But Chika’s there for her, and it’s like she said, he’d want her to be happy.

She reaches out, resting her hands on Chika’s waist. “Yes,” Yo murmurs. Chika grins, and pulls her close, their lips meeting halfway. It’s a little less tender now, needier, hungrier. Yo laps at Chika’s lips, parting them and venturing further. Her tongue touches Chika’s, glides over her teasingly, just barely staying out of reach. A game of cat and mouse.

Chika allows this go on for a few more moments before she attacks, catching Yo's tongue in her teeth and gently nibbling on the tip of it. Yo lets out a “mmm!” of surprise, and Chika resists the urge to laugh. The kiss is sloppy, but neither of them mind. There’s a heat coiling up inside Yo, and kissing Chika only feeds the flames.

Yo leans in, trying to reduce the distance between them even more. She sort of straddles one of Chika’s legs, pressing their bodies flush together. Chika’s hot - so hot, her skin feels like it’s going to catch on fire. Yo might be bright red.

The sun has set fully now, and Yo's glad. She doesn’t want Chika to see how furiously she’s blushing. They’re so far out in the middle of nowhere that the only light comes the stars starting to twinkle above, and the pale crescent moon overhead. Yo pulls away briefly to take a look at her partner.

Chika looks gorgeous lit by starlight, her long ginger hair cascading over her shoulders and back, her red eyes twinkling with a fierce affection. Yo feels like she has a lump stuck in her throat, momentarily at a loss for words. There’s a desire roaring inside her, the coiling heat now almost unbearable. She pushes back into a kiss, and Chika gladly acquiesces, allowing Yo's tongue entry to her mouth.

As she deepens the kiss, Yo suddenly feels Chika’s hand on her butt, and her knee grind up against her. Caught off guard, Yo moans into the kiss, an electric sensation passing through her nethers. Chika chuckles, breaking off the kiss to whisper in Yo's ear. “You like that?” She asks, her breath tickling Yo's skin.

It’s been so long since Yo has felt the intimate touch of another person. She nods, sensing a rapid shift in the mood. It’s still sensual, but there’s something else in the air now, a primal desire that Yo is more than willing to oblige.

“I want you,” Yo murmurs, and that’s all it takes. Chika almost tackles her, and Yo lets it happen, falling backward into the tarp. In a single smooth motion, Yo shrugs off her top, then reaches behind her and undoes the latch on her bra. Within moments her chest is bared to Chika, who eyes them hungrily, giving Yo a sly smirk before leaning down and taking a nipple into her mouth.

Yo takes a shuddering breath, her back lifting slightly off the ground as she leans into the pleasure. Chika grins, and flicks her tongue over the sensitive nub, relishing as Yo groans from the sensation. Cupping the other breast in her hand, Chika runs her thumb over the erect nipple as she starts to suckle on the one in her mouth, causing Yo to moan and writhe as pleasure fills her mind.

“Holy,” Yo pants, her voice degenerating into a low moan as Chika runs her teeth gently over her nipple, the other hand alternating between teasing pinches and brushes over the other teat. “Chika,” Yo moans, driving Chika wild with desire. “Please.”

Stopping her oral ministrations (and eliciting a small whine from Yo,) Chika takes a moment to appreciate Yo's toned body, running a hand along the lines of her abs, humming in approval. “God, Yo,” She murmurs. “You’re like a Greek goddess, hot damn.”

She reaches down, her fingers trailing a line down Yo's middle, past her belly button, resting right above the waist of Yo's jeans. “You should take these off, too,” Chika suggests, before leaning back to start stripping herself.

As she unbuttons her jeans and pushes them down, Yo watches Chika undress, pulling the sweater over her head and revealing her ample bust. Once there was a time when their sizes actually matched pretty well, but it was obvious Chika still had some growth left in her after high school; she’s at least a size larger than Yo, and her whole figure is soft and curvy. By the time Chika has stripped off her skirt as well, Yo has fully disrobed and eager to continue.

Chika smiles, and shuffles close, pressing their bodies flush together. Yo can feel Chika’s body heat, the softness of her skin, the beat of her heart through her chest. “Let’s keep things going,” she whispers in Yo's ear, then leaning in to gently nibble on her ear lobe. Yo gasps, her breath catching slightly at the sensation, though she starts even more when Chika sneaks a hand between her legs, teasing her entrance.

“You’re soaked,” Chika notes, sounding pleased. She gently brushes a finger over her slit, the lips parting slightly at the touch.

Yo whimpers, her hands clutching Chika’s shoulders. Chika smirks, and continues to tease Yo, rubbing up against her entrance, dragging a finger across, coming painfully close to her clit before drawing back again, relishing in the feeling of her finger coming away almost dripping.

Yo's breathing gets heavier and heavier as Chika goes on, her heart racing in her chest. She grips Chika tightly, and breathlessly whines, “Chika, please.”

“Please what?” Chika asks teasingly.

Yo's cheeks flush even more. “Chika…” She whines, before burying her face in the crook of Chika’s neck and muttering, “Please fuck me—!”

Her sentence ends in a strangled grasp as Chika presses her thumb against her clit. Her legs give out under her, and she ends up holding onto Chika for dear life as the woman pushes a finger inside, revelling in how hot Yo is inside.

Instinctually Yo bucks her hips, and Chika smirks, carefully sliding in another finger, before slowly pulling both fingers back again, stopping just before she pulls out completely. Yo whimpers at the torturous pleasure Chika’s inflicting on her, garbled words begging for Chika to just fuck her.

“Your wish is my command,” Chika says, thrusting her fingers back in. Yo gasps, falling forward as Chika works up a rhythm, thrusting in and out of her and trying her hardest just not to embarrass herself as her hips roll automatically in time with each thrust.

Her mind is so clouded she doesn’t even realize Chika gently laying her down, and with the new position, manage to thrust even deeper into her, causing her to cry out and arch her back from the pleasure of it all.

Yo's throat fails her, her words garbled as Chika pumps in and out, stretching her and filling her up with each deliberate motion. Chika drags her thumb against Yo's clit again, and she almost kicks out, digging her heels into the tarp and the sand beneath as waves of pleasure wracks her brain. She draws circles around the sensitive nub and Yo can’t do anything except desperately bucking her hips in time with Chika and babbling between ragged breaths.

The heat inside her is coiled tight beyond return now, wound up so much Yo feels like she’s going to explode.

“Chika,” she gasps, breathless and hoarse. “Chika, please, I- I’m—!”

Whatever she’s about to say is drowned out by a ragged cry as Chika presses down, hard, on her clit. She clamps down on Chika’s fingers and her whole body shudders, her back arched till her whole body is lifted off the tarp, fingers digging into Chika’s back and toes pointed.

She jerks once, twice, lets out a gasping breath, and falls heavily back onto the tarp, completely spent. She’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, her breathing heavy and uneven. Her eyes are slightly glazed over as she lies there, trying to recover some semblance of control of her body.

For a minute or two she just lies there, trying to catch her breath.

“Was it that good?” Chika asks teasingly, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on her lips. Yo rolls her eyes, weakly pushing Chika away after the kiss.

“Shut up,” she mumbles, rising unevenly to her knees.

Her legs are still weak, but she’s quickly regaining control of her limbs. Shuffling over to Chika, she pushes Chika down onto her back, and gives her a grin. “I have to return the favour.”

As Yo drops down between Chika’s legs, Chika’s suddenly intimately aware of how wet she is, an aching need rising up inside her in the wake of Yo's orgasm. She spreads her legs wide, inviting Yo closer, a hand reaching up to cup her own breast.

Yo leans in, and tentatively, laps at Chika’s slit, her tongue just barely touching flesh. Even at the sparse contact Chika groans, and encouraged, Yo continues, running her tongue over Chika’s entrance again, this time savouring the bitter juices leaking from her. She smacks her lips, and just as Chika’s about to tell her to get going already, she dives in, causing Chika to moan and fall back as her tongue traces circles around Chika’s clit, drawing close but never quite getting there. From time to time she gives Chika’s clit a teasing flick with her tongue, causing a shock of pleasure that never quite lasts for long enough.

“Yo… c’mon, don’t do this to me,” Chika pleads, struggling to keep her head up and keeping eye contact with Yo. Yo simple grins, and dives right back in.

Chika hisses as Yo switches tactics, giving her clit a final flick before she drags her tongue straight down, drawing a line right over Chika’s labia from top to bottom. Then just as quickly she pulls her tongue back up again, for once giving her clit a slow, deliberate lick as she reaches the top. Chika moans loudly, her breathing hitched and uneven, and her back arches as Yo repeats the motion, working up a mind-blowing rhythm sliding her tongue up and down her slit.

“Fuck, Yo, since when did youUUuuUU—?” Chika chokes on her own words as Yo suddenly breaks off the motion and directly sucks on her clit, causing her entire body to jerk from the overwhelming sensation of pleasure. Her hands fly to Yo's head, fingers tangling in her hair as she practically shoves Yo’s face into her entrance. Her legs, too, curl in around Yo, trying to press Yo as close and far in as she can manage.

Yo wants to laugh at Chika’s reaction but with her face buried in between Chika’s legs all she can do is continue her ministrations, lapping and licking and sucking at Chika’s sensitive bud, relishing in the sensation of Chika’s moans and gasps and desperate cries reverberating through her entire body.

She shifts up a little, easing a finger into Chika, and Chika jerks her hips, her tongue lolling uselessly out of her mouth. She slips another finger into Chika, and begins to thrust, timing each thrust with a lazy lick of her clit.

She thrusts once, twice, then pushes deeper, three knuckles in, and she sucks on Chika’s clit and suddenly Chika practically screams, her fingers digging into Yo's scalp as she cries out and comes messily, a flood of warmth hitting Yo's tongue. She pulls her fingers out and continues to lap at Chika’s entrance until she stops shuddering, lying breathlessly on the tarp.

Yo carefully extricates herself from between Chika’s legs and crawls along the tarp, lying down beside her, her chest heaving as they both try to catch their breaths.

Chika’s hair is a mess, but probably so is hers, and her cheeks are flushed red and sweaty, but the way her ruby red eyes gaze into her own makes Yo feel loved in a way she hasn’t felt in months. Chika reaches out with a shaky hand, brushing a thumb across Yo's cheek.

“God, Yo,” She says, her voice hoarse and dry. “That was… amazing.”

“Mhmm.” Yo hums, snuggling close to Chika. They’re both gross and sweaty, but in the throes of their lovemaking Yo finally realizes the beach is starting to get cool. “You’re the best.”

“No you,” Chika says, and they both laugh because it’s like everything is fine, and they’re back to their old bantering selves.

Eventually though their laughing dies down and they both shift slightly to stare up at the starry sky above. It’s not as clear as it used to be years ago, the neighbouring city’s lights have finally begun to block out the natural light as the stars, but sitting where they are and looking up it’s like staring into a sea of glittering jewels.

“Kanan would know what these constellations are,” Yo murmurs idly. “But… even not knowing, they’re really pretty.”

She feels something brush against her hand and she instinctively holds on - it’s Chika’s hand, and their fingers move to interlace together. She can sort of feel Chika’s pulse through her palm, the frantic beat of her heart still trying to calm down.

“So what are you going to do now?” Chika asks, still staring up at the starry sky.

“Hmm?” Yo glances briefly over at Chika. “What do you mean?”

“You’re going to go back to Tokyo, right?” Chika says, “and I’m still staying here.”

There’s a lingering silence in the air as Yo considers her words.

“…I suppose so,” she says finally.

“Then,” Chika’s voice is even as she says, “is this… just for tonight, then?”

Yo breathes out slowly, the sky seeming to wheel about above her. “Do…” She pauses. “Do you want it to be just for tonight?”

Chika stays quiet for a few seconds before saying, “…Honestly? Not really. I want to try and make it work.”

“Me too,” Yo murmurs. But then she hesitates, and points out, “But then this’ll be just like the time with Riko. I’m going to be living in Tokyo, and you have to run the inn.”

“Well, things are different now. I’m not a kid fresh out of high school anymore.” Chika says. She shifts slightly so she’s looking at Yo, resting her head on her arm. “I think it could work. You won’t spend as much time on me either, if I’m all the way out here. Plus, we can still call and message each other.”

“We won’t meet much,” Yo warns.

“Are you worried that this is going to be a repeat of what you went through?” Chika asks gently. “If you’re not ready, that’s okay. I won’t hold it against you.”

After a long pause, Yo nods hesitantly, squeezing Chika’s hand. “I think I need a little time to think.”

“That’s okay,” Chika says softly. “I can wait. I’ll always be here, remember?”

Yo glances at Chika, giving her a small, grateful smile. She doesn’t deserve Chika, not really. Chika’s so kind, and welcoming, and optimistic. But just as she said, Yo does want to try and make it work. She’s just… not sure if she can do it right now.

As Yo thinks to herself, a cool breeze sweeps across the beach, and Chika sneezes. Yo laughs, and stands up. “We should get going. There should be a tap to hose all this sweat off somewhere.”

“Hey, Yo?” Chika tugs on Yo’s hand.

Yo stops, looking back at Chika.

“It’s pretty late,” Chika says slowly. “Why don’t you stay the night at my place?”

Yo hesitates, biting her lower lip contemplatively.

“Well…” She sighs, and gives Chika a small smile. “I guess if it’s just the night.”

“Then we can go see Kanan in the morning!”

“But I—” Yo stares at Chika, grinning widely back at her, and finally rolls her eyes. “Oh, fine. If it’s just the morning…”

“And the afternoon!”

“…And the afternoon…”

Chika laughs, and Yo can’t help but laugh along with her.

[sparkycanteven]

Riverdale Unpacked

Finally figured out a title for my weekly Riverdale commentary! :D

- I snoozed during the opening scene, I’m sorry the whole campaigning thing was boring. Who gives an actual fuck?

- I woke up when Veronica said she was being courted by Mob Princes... and I sooo wished like fuck that this would suddenly take a Jeronica turn, but I realize that the writers are gonna waste this opportunity and lamented. Oh well, there’s always @pembrokebitch​ ‘s fanfics!!!

- “Going around house to house to stare into men’s eyes? That sounds like looking for a needle in a haystack.” no, that sounds like what they used to do in the days before Grindr, Hiram. Taken out of context that quote is really weird.

- Sorry kinda snoozed through the convo about making his bones whatevs I do not care I am not here for Mafia Archie.

- Wait, what is that I smell? A stumble in the Bughead dynamic? Jug didn’t believe her when she said her Dad could be the Black Hood, didn’t even take her seriously, just sorta walked off... there’s blood in the water. Fuckin’ A, YES.

- “Dear cousin, you look harrowed!” ... and “Wherefore?” also “Heed my hard learned advice” and “tread carefully, cousin” you been reading Jane Austen, Cheryl? I don’t really know what to think of the style of Cheryl’s dialogue, but I’m oddly here for it? No character really talks like that in this town, so, it’s interesting to hear a character talk more eloquently. (Wouldn’t that be cute? Cheryl and Toni reading Jane Austen together? Awww! C’mon Riverdale writers, stick it in!)

- So self-consciously, Cheryl knew that her Dad was capable of Jason’s murder? Makes me wonder what the hell else that kid witnessed. Poor Cheryl.

- Yawn, Alpha Male Aggression Display. Wait, did anyone notice that Reggie’s way too fired up over this? Sure, Moose was hurt by her confession that she’d been seeing a serpent but he wasn’t over the top aggressive like Reggie was. That makes me suspicious... was he doing Midge too? I mean, she was into Polyamory and all.

- “Which one you reptiles was screwing Midge Klump?”

“I get why she wouldn’t want fleas from you mangy bulldogs.”

Dahahaha, it made ME laugh. ;D Good dialogue!

- What the fuck about the mob bosses sons... this was a weird little foray into the underworld and I suspect not at al the way things actually work. Though, gotta admire my girl V for putting the new ‘meat’ through their paces with ‘interviews’ lol. Good girl. (Also Elio is kinda hot.)

- “The muckraker, the troublemaker.” this line made me roll my eyes. No, Jug is not a troublemaker. Good Lord.

- WHAT THE FUCK ARCHIE YOU GAVE AWAY YOUR HAND TO A MOB BOSS’S SON?! You are stupid as hell!!!

- The Cooper and Blossom detective agency? This is an interesting angle that I wouldn’t have thought to take. I kinda like this.

- I dunno if I can get behind Cheryl’s deadpan reaction about Chic, but seeing as she didn’t really know him and probably didn’t want to garner unwanted attention from the Coopers, then yeah okay, I guess it makes sense. However an indignant “What?!” would’ve said it all at Betty’s confession.

- Midge must’ve been a hot commodity around Riverdale High for FP to make the comment “Of all the girl in Riverdale.” ah well, she was a cheerleader so I guess there’s that currency? I dunno considering she had barely been mentioned before this it just strikes me as kind of odd.

- I like the way Jug’s trying to take responsibility for the gang and is starting to treat them as family rather than some weird, extended relatives he’d never really wanted.

- Oh noez, Fred is being threatened by he Black Hood. Seriously, WTF did Fred do? He ain’t have to die!

- I’m sorry Betty but what you sellin’, I ain’t buyin’. Where was all this remorse when you were actually turning Chic over to the Black Hood? Where was the conflict then? No you were just mad cuz he tried to swing on your boytoy, that’s all. Now shit’s gotten real for you. -_-;

- “If he’s dead then that makes me an accomplice to murder and I think I’m okay with that.” what the fuck kind of dinner table confession is that?!

- “I don’t know what to say Betty” INAPPROPRIATE REACTION, ALICE!!! As a Mom I’d think you’d be horrified, not... just simply shocked. You at like Betty is just dropping one of her extra-curriculars, not confessing to a crime... what the hell?!

- I don’t even know what to make of her Dad’s reaction.

- Look at Hal’s eyes closely guys, *in my Maury Povich voice* He is NOT the Black Hood!”

Originally posted by desingyouruniverse

- Who the hell leaked the video footage of Midge and Fangs?

- Gotta admire our boy Jug for trying to get Fangs to a safe place before the freakin’ lynch mob found him.

- Archie, put down your bat and go to bed.

- WAR DOGS? Did they seriously go “arf” at the end of that scene?! Seriously?! I don’t blame Jug for being mad. How juvenile can you be, slashing tires and setting dumpsters on fire? What the fuck! Hiram Lodge is paying for the Dark Circle now??? Holy shit. Archie what the FUCK have you done!

- Cheryl uses the same color nailpolish my Mom did... ;o; Awww. Again, I am liking the whole Blossom/Cooper detective agency angle. Cheryl needed a friend and Betty needs a healthier relationship than the one she has with Jug.

- Our girl V did all the work and Hiram shut her down??? COME ON NOW!!! And then HIRAM PUT THE MONEY IN A TRUST SO SHE COULDN’T DO HER CASINO YOU KNOW WHAT FUCK YOU HIRAM WHO IS YOU BITCH!!!!

- So Betty’s Dad can’t be the Black Hood... he really can’t. He was there comforting Betty while the Black Hood took pot shots at everybody in Town Hall, and it can’t be her Mom because her Mom was hiding behind a podium, it’s not FP. It’s not Chic because he was a possible victim of the dude. So that leaves Claudius Blossom because he’s way too fucking quiet for his own good.

- I love how Fred just let Veronica in and let her go bang his son on a school night. I mean, sure she’s gonna back him in the election but that is a helluva way to say thank you. “Thanks for your support, here, you can bang my son all night!”

- Gotta say, this is the best acting I’ve seen Cole Sprouse do in awhile. I mean, it’s the most convincing, the most roused I’ve seen Jug since Season 1 and there’s been quite a few reasons for Jug to raise his voice and he hasn’t. I mean maybe that’s just his character but that monotone voice kills me in every fucking scene. Come on, Jug. GET SOME SPIRIT EMOBOI!

- What the hell is Betty doing with a gun? And who exactly SHOT Fangs? Was it Reggie? Was Archie too late? (BTW good job Archie on the whole bodyguard run, my man.) Did Betty have a secret deal with Daddy to take somebody out? Or was it the Black Hood? RIP Fangs, we barely knew thee. Hopefully you were reunited with Midge in the afterlife... God, poor Fangs though... he was so scared and crying and then to go out like that anyway?! Where the hell was the rest of the police force when he was being led out! A group of high school boys ain’t gonna do the trick, Sheriff, he needed an armed guard himself! I CALL DISCRIMINATION!!! :P

- WHAT THE FUCK YOU HAVE AGAINST MY GIRL CHERYL, BLACK HOOD?! SQUARE UP, BITCH!

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

Christmas Decorating (Children Part 2)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Light angst

Word count: 2648

Summary: Simon has a worry when everyone is over for Christmas decoration.

Read on AO3

Simon

“I have Christmas scones!” I announce proudly as I enter the living room.

“Just because they’re made during Christmas doesn’t make them Christmas scones, love,” Baz says, but still takes one off the plate.

“Scones are for every holiday.”

“I agree with Simon!” Helen shouts from down the hall where she’s supposed to be putting up Christmas cut outs. But when I look back, she’s standing on a ladder, hanging tinsel. My heart seizes in terror. I shove the plate of scones at Baz and rush to her.

“Helen! Please be careful!”

She groans and rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, Simon, I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”

“I know, but still, be careful. Here, let me help you down.”

Once again, she groans and rolls her eyes like they're footballs in a tumble dryer, but she still takes my hand. Her other holds her somewhat large stomach. (At four months she’s starting to actually show.) She sighs as she hits the ground.

“But seriously, you two,” she says, “thanks for inviting me for Christmas decorating. You really didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense!” Baz shouts, mock dramatically. “You’re carrying our baby. It’s the least we can do.”

“You’re so nice, Basil. I hope you teach this baby to be the same.”

I snort audibly. Yeah, “nice” is not usually a word associated with Basilton Snow-Pitch. Baz glares at me, grey eyes turned into silver daggers. I grin back. He knows I’m right, shown by the way he’s still smirking.

“Hey do you have any Christmas cookies?” Helen asks, green eyes wide and hopeful. “I’m really craving gingerbread for some reason.”

“In the large cupboard in the kitchen,” I say. “Guess the baby shares my sweet tooth.”

“Unfortunately. Your child is going to ruin my hips.”

Helen cackles to herself as she walks to the kitchen. I stride over to Baz, wrapping my arms around his waist as he puts up a California ornament from Agatha.

“Just think,” I whisper against his ear. “Next Christmas we’ll have a baby here with us.”

Baz hums happily, leaning back against me. “That we will. I wonder if they’ll inherit your freckles. Or your curls. That’d be funny, having two spotty, curly haired people in the house.”

“Hm. Maybe they’ll have wavy black hair like you.” Baz tenses ever so slightly. Shit shit, I said the wrong thing. “Well, similar to you. Not exactly like you, y’know. I know it’s not possible, I’m not stupid. I just mean...y'know. I’m sorry...”

Merlin, how so I always say the wrong thing? It's not like I don't know how this all works. We decided early on I’d be the biological father, because: A) Baz wasn’t sure vampires could reproduce, and B) even if they could, Baz didn’t want to risk passing on his curse to the child. But we still picked a donor who looked a lot like Baz. She was Egyptian-English too, with the same black hair and sharp features, just with hazel eyes instead of Baz’s deep water grey, and dark tan like he used to have pre-vampirism. Still though, Baz is a bit touchy about it. He says it’s because this is just another choice his vampirism has taken away from him, which I completely understand. But I’m worried it’s about some other things too...

“It’s okay,” he sighs, turning in my arms to face me. “I know what you mean.”

I bite at the corner of my lip, almost hard enough to draw blood. The knot in my stomach twists tighter and tighter. I’ve been trying to find the right words for awhile, but keep coming up short.

“Baz-”

The doorbell rings, obnoxiously loud as usual. I immediately rush towards it. “I’ll get it.” (Yes, I still have a tendency to run from my problems.) (Yes, I know it’s still a bad thing.)

I fling open our front door. Immediately, a pair of pudgy arms fling towards.

“Tío Simon!” Little Gil shouts, diving out his father’s arms towards me. Luckily, I catch the over excited three year old before he face plants the carpet.

“Gilberto! Be careful!” Micah says, reaching out as well.

“Whoa, your daddy’s right there, bud, be careful,” I chuckle out. “Crowley, you’re sense of danger is worse than your mother’s.”

“Hey!” Penny practically manifests from behind her husband. “My sense of danger is great, thank you very much.”

Micah and I share a knowing look. Both of us are well aware of Penelope Bunce’s tendency to be stupidly brave. Emphasis on "stupidly" sometimes.

“Simon, Simon, I gots new toys!” Gil bounces in my arms.

“Really?! Oh then you’ll have to show Tío Baz and I, won’t you?”

“Yeah!”

“Why don’t you run to the living room and say hi to him, hm?”

“Okay!”

He wriggles out of my grasp and sprints away like the firecracker he is. I sigh, putting my hands on my hips.

“How did you two produce such a hyperactive child?” I ask.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Simon,” Micah sighs. He claps a strong hand on my shoulder. “Good to see you. Happy Christmas.”

I smile back, patting his hand once. “Happy Christmas to you too, Micah.”

He strolls in, probably to follow his rocket son. Penelope comes in after him. She’s dressed in her favourite Christmas sweater and holly headband, as per usual on this fine holiday. She gives me a big, squeezing hug. One which I happily return

“Happy Christmas, Si,” she says into my shirt.

“Happy Christmas, Pen.”

She pulls away, keeping both hands on my sides. “Now, before we get decorating, is your baby mama here? I want to meet her.”

“Well, she’s not technically the baby’s biological mother, y’know. She's just carrying it. She calls herself 'the walking incubator.'”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Where is she?”

“Kitchen, probably wolfing down too many gingerbread men.”

Penny grins almost evilly. “I think I’m going to like her.”

She trots off towards my kitchen. I pass by the living room and see Baz laughing as Gil plays with his hair.

“Your hair’s so soft, Bazzy!” He yells (almost everything he says is in yelling.)

“Yes, it certainly is. Your’s is wonderfully curly. Like your Mum's and Uncle Simon’s.”

Gil gasps loudly. “Yes! We curly curly!”

Baz chuckles and ruffles his dark curls. “Yes, very curly. Now, what are these new toys you're so excited about?”

Gil giggles as Baz places him on the ground. He and Micah kneel down, absolutely fascinated with Gil’s brand new Hot Wheels. Though I'm tempted to join them, I make my way to the kitchen instead. There stand Helen and Penny, deep in conversation.

“I'm absolutely serious though,” Helen says through a mouth full of crumbly brown gingerbread. “If the American government doesn't do something now, they're going to destroy the entire environment. It's simple logic.”

Penelope nods vigorously. “I completely agree. They're ripping the planet apart. That's one of the reason we decided to stay in England instead of moving to America. Though mind you, England isn't that much better.”

“Agreed, unfortunately.”

“You two seem to be getting along,” I say sweetly. They both turn to face me, with grins.

“Swimmingly,” Penny beams. “Helen was just telling me her thesis research on the environmental damage in North America. Where did you find this amazing woman, Simon?”

“Through an agency,” Helen interjects. “Simon and Baz picked me from a profile and asked for a meeting. We got along immediately.”

I throw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against me. “Yes we did. She noticed Baz’s obscure violinist joke button and I swear he immediately fell in love.”

She laughs, leaning into my embrace. “That’s very true. He went so wide eyed, it was fucking adorable.”

Penelope shakes her head. “‘Adorable’ is not a word I usually associate with Basilton Pitch.”

“Oh he was though,” I giggle. “It was so cute. I liked Helen when she said her favourite pastry was scones.”

Helen puts one hand on her hip, chin tilted defiantly. “Of course they are! Scones are the best food. Your school must’ve been fucking great to serve them.”

My heart sinks again. Watford reminds me of my worries. I turn to Helen. “Hey, Helen, uh...can I get some time alone with Penny?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go help with the tree.”

She gives me one last side hug and walks off towards the living room. I step back to lean against the table, Penny joining me quickly.

“You alright, Si?” She says, putting her hand over mine.

“I’m worried, Pen,” I say quietly. “Y’know I’m the biological father of the baby, right?”

“Yeah, of course I remember. Your point?”

“It’s just- I’m concerned that...you know that...”

“Spit it out Simon.”

I groan and hold my head. “I’m...I’m worried the kid won’t be a mage.”

“Oh. You’re really worried about that?”

I whip up to glare at her. “Of course I’m worried about that. We don’t know if I was even really a mage or just a Normal with stolen power. What if this kid is Normal?”

Penny slowly raises an eyebrow. “So...?”

“So , who are the two people who care about magic more than anything? You and Baz! Baz would love to raise magic kid. What if they’re a Normal like me? Then Baz never gets to pass on his knowledge, our kid never goes to Watford, and the Pitch line ends! He already can’t have a biological kid, which I know hurts him a lot. Bloodlines are so important to the Old Families, I know. If the kid isn’t a mage? That’ll hurt even more. I-I don’t want to do that to him!”

Penelope sighs heavily. I recognise it as the sigh she uses when she’s annoyed with me. “Simon, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?!”

“Yes!” She grabs both my hands tightly. “Simon, I swear on Merlin’s name, Baz will not care if the kid has magic or not. Or if he’s blood related to them. Because it will be your kid, both of yours to care for. That’s all that matters. Y’know why you’re actually worrying?”

I roll my eyes. “Please, do tell me.”

“Because you’re about to be a father, and that’s really fucking scary. Your finding things to be worried about because you’re scared. Believe me, I know. I was terrified before Gil was born. And I’m still sort of am. Everytime Gil cries after I yell at him or I lose sight of him the park, my heart stops. It’s a fear every parent has, that you’ll do something wrong and hurt your child. You’re sacred, so you’re finding stuff to worry about to distract yourself from that. We all do.”

I chew on my lip. She’s making sense, but the knot in my stomach still hasn’t gone away. She sighs again, letting her hands fall from mine. “If you’re really that worried, how about actually try talking to Baz? Y’know, communicate with your husband?”

I glare, trying to emulate Baz’s steely gaze, but Penny just raises her eyebrow. After a long staring contest, I huff and look down. “Okay, fine. Can you ask him to come in here?”

“Sure. I promise, Si, you have nothing to worry about.”

She pats my shoulder once and walks away. I pace up and down the tile floor. Is Penelope right? Am I worrying about nothing? It doesn’t feel like nothing. Magic is important to Baz. He loves it. So is his family bloodline. Doesn’t he want to pass them down to our kid? Our donor is Normal. If I’m all Normal too then there’s no chance. He must’ve thought of it too, he must’ve . And what if-

“Snow? You alright, love?”

I turn around so fast I nearly fall over, stumbling a bit. Baz stands in the doorway looking slightly worried, brow furrowed and frowning slightly. I straighten up.

“Uh, yeah,” I sputter out. But I quickly deflate, shoulders slumping in. “Actually no. I have to talk to you about something.”

He walks forward and leans against the table with one arm. “Well if that isn’t ominous.”

“Sorry. It’s just- Something’s been on my mind for awhile. And I need to talk about it before I explode.”

“Alright then. Shoot.”

I take a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly. I look Baz right in his deep water grey eyes. “Baz, what if our child isn’t a Mage? Would...would you be okay with that?”

Baz’s face falls, and my stomach goes with it. He looks shocked and a bit hurt. When he speaks, his voice is uncharacteristically small. “Do, do you think I wouldn’t be? That...I wouldn’t love our child if they weren’t?”

Fuck fuck fuck. I rush forward and grab his hands, violently shaking my head. “No no, Crowley, no! That’s not what I meant. I just, I was worried you’d be sad if the baby wasn’t a mage, because you love magic and I know you’d love to pass it on. And...I know not being able to be the bio parent has been hard on you. Bloodlines and all. S-So...I just worried that the baby not being a mage would hurt you even more. B-But I know you’ll love our kid! I’m really sorry for implying otherwise. Penny’s right, I’m worrying about nothing. Merlin, I’m so sorry, Baz.”

Baz sighs, leaning forward and squeezing my hands firmly. “Okay. I-I know you couldn’t think that, but...Aleister Crowley, you really scared me for a moment there, Simon.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.”

“But,” he pulls back and cups my cheek, “just to be clear, I’ll be perfectly happy if our baby isn’t a mage. And I really am fine that it won't biologically be mine. There are lots of things I can pass on other than my blood or magic. Like an appreciation for morose violin pieces.”

I chuckle, shaking my head with a smile. “God, you’re going to indoctrinate them young, huh?”

“Certainly! Then someone else in our house will finally listen to good music.”

“You and I have very different definitions of good music.”

We laugh happily, foreheads tapping together. And even after we gain our composure we don’t move. We just stand there, faces close, breathing each other in. Sometimes we need these moments. Where it’s just us, reminding ourselves that we’re here for each other no matter what, even if one of us fucks up.

“Magic or not,” I whisper, “our kid is going to be great.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “They’ll be fucking fantastic.”

I giggle and hug him close, wrapping him as tight as I can. He returns it just as fiercely. “I’m still really sorry.”

“Apology accepted already, Snow. Don’t worry. I understand why you were worried, but I promise it isn't an issue.” He strokes my hair, then pulls back too look at me. He’s grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear. “Now c’mon. You must see Gil’s new little cars. He’s very excited to show you.”

“He’s excited about everything.”

“Well, still, they’re very cool cars.”

He quickly grabs my hand, interweaving our fingers, and pulls me to our living room. Gil is sitting on the floor, making his little car fly with a raspberry for effect. Micah makes his own truck soar to crash into Gil’s. Penelope is in deep conversation with Helen while they hang ornaments on the tree. Helen reaches up to hang an angel, one hand on her growing belly. The Christmas lights make colours dance on the walls. Our Christmas tree glints and sparkles beautifully.

Baz is right. There's more than bloodlines and magic. This right here is something we can pass down to our kid: our family. Not just those you share DNA with, but those you choose and care for and love. They'll care for and love our baby just as much. I know it.

AN: I felt this would need to be addressed if they had a kid tbh. Having a blood heir is obviously very important to Old Families and Simon would know this. So he'd think Baz thinks the same way. I also think he'd be worried that the kid wouldn't have magic, because of aforementioned reasons in the fic and the sadness over losing his magic. He wouldn't want to deprive his kid of that, because despite everything he went through, he loved magic. That's my view. So I wanted a fic to address that and have both of them recognize they have other things they can pass down than magic or blood relation. Hope y'all liked it. Tomorrow: family! :D

[jeffandmika-blog]

Introductions, Pt. 1

The night was filled with the loud booms from the storm. Rain poured into the streets and pounded against the windows. The wind violently plagued the buildings, eerily making them seem like they swayed with the crooked lightning stripes in the sky. The daunting weather never seemed to sway any trouble in the streets below. Gangs and robbers took what they wanted as cars chased each other through the packed lights and people bustled about. The real trouble was hidden away from their eyes in the back alleys so rarely wandered.

From the rooftops, even with the torrent of rain around her and the thunder crashing down from the sky, her heightened senses cut through the distracting smells and noises to find what she was searching for. Though rain, with its sweet, fresh scent, was by far her favorite smell, it was the putrid stench of rotting meat and fresh blood that tingled in her nose. Though faint at the distance she was, the stench was still more overpowering than the rain. She began to follow the scent, running and leaping from rooftop to rooftop, stretching her small, slender body with each graceful bound. Luckily, she blended in with the shadows during the night, making what she was doing far less noticeable than her daytime routines, so she didn't have to sacrifice speed for stealth.

The stench was a lot stronger after her 20 block stretch letting her know she was close. Lifting her nose and sniffing the air once more, she stole over one more building before walking to the far side and peering over the ledge. A growl blended with a loud scream of thunder as her eyes immediately locked onto the right far end of the alley. Dropping the hood of her black jacket, she pulled her long, straight dark auburn hair into a tight ponytail before quietly hopping down into the alley.

Sucking in her breath, she moved quietly, keeping herself low and hidden in the shadows. It was only then she caught a glimpse of what she had been tracking. It was a large, jet black werewolf. Its body was covered in cuts and slices, the decaying flesh almost rotting straight before her eyes. It’s cold, angry red eyes were glued to its victim, snarling its large, blood stained fangs.

“There you are,” she whispered under her breath. Werewolves were easy, but it was the rotting flesh that had her as tense as she was. She checked her watch, noting the time at only 11:53 pm. She was, unfortunately, too late to save the victim, but she couldn’t leave the corpse nor could she leave rabid beast running about. It wasn’t even worth her changing form. She sighed, bored already. A single shot could easily end this.

She waited and watched the wolf gnawing on the lifeless body. Her timing had to be precise. Her ear twitched listening to the patterns of the thunder. It was almost time, but she needed her target to be right in front of her in clear view. The wolf needed to be facing her.

Standing she pulled her magnum from the back of the waistband of her jeans. She readied her weapon and smiled, showing her straight teeth and pointed fangs. Only a few more moments.

“Hey!” she shouted, bracing herself as the wolf turned with a snap. It snarled and rose up, towering above her. She smirked as it growled and moved to run her over, but the thunder was on her side. She aimed her sights down to its heart and fired as the lightning flashed. She recoiled at the stench as the beast collasped right in front of her. The impact of its massive body splashed her face and body with a mixture of rain and blood.

She knelt on her toes and looked down at the body a few moments shaking her head. It was the fifth one in the last few days and it was tiresome. Pulling a small Bluetooth from her pocket, she attached it to her ear and pressed the small button as her silver eyes scanned the scene. A low voice came through her ears and she responded, her voice sounding calm, but tired, “Its agent 3, Devon Haarcourt. I need a cleanup crew in the alley by 4th and 5th avenue. One male human and one large werewolf, with rotting skin. Blood and stench so I’ll need a full clean. I’ll be waiting on site.”

She only had a short wait until the crew got to her, so she leaned against a wall, the streetlights faintly shining in and illuminating her pale skin. A sigh of relief leaving her as she looked at her watch once more. 12:05. Not too bad a time before wrapping up her private work life and returning to her normal daily routine of pretending to be a common human.

She saw a large white van back down the alley towards her. She turned and left the area through a side alley. She may work for Them, but she didn’t have to see them unless necessary. Pulling her hood back over her head, she leaped up and her body immediately changed shape, the black shadow of a falcon disappearing into the night.

PART TWO

William Ryker winced in pain as the deafening thunder echoed through the corridor of the animal clinic he was cleaning, sending fresh waves of nauseating pain pulsing through his head. Ideally, he'd be at home, nearly OD'd on painkillers, and head securely smothered by a pillow, but he rarely enjoyed such luxuries. His home life was terrible. The Fowlkes, his foster "parents", took him in seven years ago when he was ten because they were unable to have children, which Will thought that must've been the universe telling them to just give up on the family dynamic, and all three of them have regretted it ever since. He was unsure why they weren't able to give him back to the system, but he knew they tried. He remembered, in clarity, walking down the stairs with the silent platter of a child's padded feet and overhearing a conversation that neatly summarized their entire relationship together. "Peter," whispered Carol. "You made a mistake picking that.... boy. It's unsettling being around him." Peter sighed and opened the cabinet above the fridge where they kept their liquor and grabbed a bottle of vodka before answering. "What is it you want me to do, dear? You heard the bitch at the adoption agency. We can't even submit a review for two months." He punctuated the heaviness of the weight on his shoulders by taking a pull straight from the bottle as his wife muttered a curse word he heard one of the kids who came off the streets say one time. "I will not sleep with that thing under my roof Peter. He scares me. And why doesn't he ever talk? I'm telling you there's issues with that boy." Come to think of it, Will couldn't think of a time where she ever referred to him by name. His foster dad, still clutching the bottle in one hand, reached over to take his wife's trembling hands in his other and said, "Look, I'm not saying he doesn't make me uneasy too, but he's just a kid. There's no reason to freak out over him hun. Besides," he continued, "That shrew at the home said he never had any instances of violence or aggression while he was there. He's just... quiet." He finished weakly. Before she could respond, he handed her the bottle, which she reluctantly took, and said to her, "Two months babe. Just two months, and then we will go back and submit the review." "I'll drink to that." She said. Will never found out what happened at that review, or if it ever even happened, but they were stuck with him. Eventually, they found a routine to make life manageable, if not enjoyable. They ignored each other. He got himself up, walked to the bus stop before and after school, and dutifully came home where it was just him until 5 o'clock when Carol got off work first from the diner she worked breakfast and lunch. She eventually got over being afraid of him, but she was still uncomfortable with him when they accidentally crossed paths in the three bedroom townhouse they lived in. The time when her husband came home dragged later and later as he started staying out to drink after work more and more. This continued for two years until a miracle for everyone happened: Carol became pregnant. Aaron Fowlkes was born, and they finally got the son they always wanted. Will never begrudged his younger brother any of it. The moment he laid eyes on Aaron in the hospital he felt nothing but a fierce protective instinct and joy. Much to his parents' disappointment, Aaron attached himself to Will and practically worshipped his older brother, and he was the only reason Will hadn't already just ran away.

------- Another flash of lightning and the accompanying crash of thunder jolted him out of his reverie with fresh pain. Something was happening to him, and he didn't like it. It started three days ago on his 17th birthday. He kept hearing things where there was nothing, and sometimes, images flashed at the edge of his vision, especially at night. Then the headaches started. He took care of his health and body due to the life he'd led. He'd often go on long runs or stay late after school using the weight room just to avoid the awkwardness of just being him around the Fowlkes, so it was rare for him to experience migraines, but he would gladly trade a year for that walk on the beach to get rid of the pressure that's been building in his head the last two days. Finishing up with the floors, Will returned the supplies to the janitor's closet and shakily walked over to where he'd stacked the large, heavy duty trash bags by the loading dock. As was his nightly ritual, he lamented over the fact that he was a janitor. "The ladies love a man who can snake Toilets, Will." He assured himself with absolutely no conviction. The truth was, he didn't mind it. Any excuse to avoid going home too early was worth mopping a few floors. Plus, he enjoyed helping out Ms. Betty, or Nurse Betty, as everyone called her. She ran a small vet, barely charging anything for her services, so it was hard for her to find good help in Chicago for minimum wage. Listening to the storm rage outside, the very same raging storm he was about to brave for 8.75 an hour, he looked down at Sketchers, ripped gray jeans, and plain black tee he was wearing and sighed. Steeling his shoulders and giving his head a mental command to cool it with the throbbing pain, he grabbed the trash with one hand, threw the large steel door open, and charged into the storm like he was storming Normandy. The elements bashed him, and he was instantly soaked. Trying his best to ignore the atomic explosions in his head with each step as he sprinted towards the dumpster and handed off the trash like the torch bearer. Slamming the sliding metal door closed, he turned to run back under the awning when the reality of his situation hit him. It was pointless. He had no ride home, and since the storm showed no signs of letting up, he was in for one miserably cold and wet trek back home. He started laughing at himself in cold cruelty. "Fuck it", he said, and spread his arms and looked up into a sky shattered with a web of lightning, letting the cold rain melt his headache to the back of his senses. He wondered if the events of the past few days were making him crazy as he stood there by a dumpster with his arms spread laughing into a storm, but such matters would have to wait. He needed to get home. The headache was still there, but he set out with a new clarity. Luckily, it wasn't too far of a walk, just a few miles, so he turned left on 18th street and sped up to a comfortably brisk pace. New York may be known as the city that never sleeps, but the New Yorkers had nothing on the people of Chicago. The fact that it was late at night and heavily storming didn't effect the city's bustle at all. Granted, said bustlers were more equipped for the weather than Will was, and very few didn't look askance at his impression of a drowned rat as he passed them, but he paid them no mind. His headache was returning to the forefront of his awareness, and it was all he could do to put one front in front of the other. He started hearing a strange, shrill noise incongruous with the cacophony of his city. With some alarm, he realized it was coming from his own head as he stumbled into a brick wall at the entrance to an alley. Pedestrians shook their heads as they walked by, contributing his behavior to the uncouth street youths that made the hard streets of Chicago their home. He was sure he was going crazy when he thought he saw a hunched figure the size of a large monkey with wings fly off the building across the street like it had been spooked by something. "Seriously, what the hell is going on with me?" He muttered to himself, trying to shake off the pain and dizziness that threatened to send him into unconsciousness. He felt his phone vibrate in his soaked jeans pocket, and he pulled it out, faintly surprised it was still working after the abuse from the storm. He nearly dropped it when he saw it was from Carol asking about him. 'Where r u? I checked the alarm and it said its still armed 2 away. This storm is too bad to b out late in' 'Worked late. Coming home now.' 'K' Shaking off the surprise of the century, he looked down the alley he was leaning against. It wasn't exactly the safest of routes, but it would knock off ten minutes of walking if he changed course, and with his vision starting to blacken around the edges, he decided to roll the dice. He'd been half walking, half shuffling his way through the back alleys when a noise broke through his pain. It sounded like the heavy breathing of an animal, but he spotted nothing as he glanced around. Contributing it to his rising level of insanity tonight, he continued on. It was a wonder how he was still upright. The pressure in his head had built into a constant keening rattling his skull, making him feel like his brain was an elephant stuffed into a football. He was considering a brief rest when he suddenly heard a terrifying roar behind him. He spun, coming dangerously close to blacking out from the spike of pain, to see something impossible. A giant, upright wolf with dripping fangs the size of his fingers, massive corded muscles beneath heavy fur charging at him with unchecked violence. The fury emanating from the monster was palpable. This creature was death itself, and its eyes were on Will. Without missing a step, it coiled its body into a tight mass of taut muscle and intent when it was a few paces from Will as it prepared to take down its prey in one attack. Just as it came into the final step before planting and unleashing all its fury on will, it slipped in one of Chicago's infamous Bermuda Triangle deep potholes hidden by rain water, and its pounce was thrown off balance. Instead of fangs and claws, Will was met with wet, matted fur and pure muscle. The impact threw him back through the air, his progress halted by a metal sliding door in the alley wall. He must've blacked out for a moment because when he opened his eyes, the creature was on its feet and eyeing Will more warily. Its uncertainty was short lived however, and the mask of violence and fury snapped back into place as it leapt at him one more time. Time slowed to a standstill as the pressure and pain that had been building inside Will the past couple days finally came to a crescendo and snapped. He raised his hands and saw they were covered with a blue anima. Focusing on the creature, he released everything inside him as the pain finally bested him. His eyes rolled up inside his head as he collapsed face first onto the filthy ground of the Chicago back alley.