#tried to give them all their own sense of style dunno how it went | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muffindaddystyles · 4 years

Text

Harry Styles x Barista!Reader.

Smut, pain kink and over-stimulation.

Mentions of past trauma and healing!

MASTERLIST, LETS TALK LOVIES!

Author's note: Your reblogs and appreciations means alot to me, token me a smile with your love.

His breath smells of strawberries and coffee, plushie lips dangerously close to her's making her half voracious gaze flicker between his lips and up at Tofu, kiss him kiss him you bloody fool, reeled in her head, "here lemme . . ." He notices her jitteriness fetching the birdy for her. She hiccups with a suck of breath when his knuckles brushed the inside of her palms while giving Tofu to her.

"Oi, Harry budge over you bugger!!" She hisses with sleepy voice but in return he squishes her more.

Y/N has a phobia for needles and Harry's her damsel in distress.

Something about bungalows not having stairs makes Y/N's cheeks puffs out in disappointing amazement. The fact she couldn't even climb at the rooftop when the summer sky's ornamented with cosmic stars twinkling with the each buzz of music from inside. She hiccups a giggle when the cool zephyr blew her frock away giving out a glimpse of her itty-bitties, glad no-one's in the diameter to have a show. The discernment falls to nothingness when she hears distinct rustle of someone behind the fat‐very-rooty-tree, it widens her eyes into saucers as she blinks comically.

It's not a squirrel she could tell. Couldn't be Ronny who went to take a wee cause all the darn washrooms inside were occupied and his bladder being the weakest, he went for a bush.

But, that bush's behind her and for a moment she forgot her friend even existed since she muted out his piss taking whistle a while ago.

All her frenzied assumptions fails when two figures camouflaged in the darkness tumbles from behind the tree. Her cheeks splashes with burning crimson when they separate with a loud, wet kissing noise and the two men doesn't seem any shy about it unlike Y/N who's foozling the frill of her dress as if she got caught in the middle of a fuck in public loo. Not that, it everrr happened with her, still she has an example set for such incidents.

"Oh, hi." The warble of unprevious voice wins in gaining her attention and she tries to squint through the pocosin of his eyes which glimmers under moonlight if she glances away too quick, she startles in her spot when a gruff voice speaks over them, "Ronny couldn't even occupy a shot of vodka in his bladder." She couldn't seem to flit her gaze away from his cherry of lips glistening from whatever activities they were having before (the only features she could see in such illumination) as the other guy and Ronny bantered off passing a cig in between them.

"Oi, shut up will ya." Ronny locks his arm with Y/N and she flinches that he hasn't even washed them yet, "c'mon truffles we don't wanna be here." He announces dragging her away and the humid air around them bubbled with chuckles.

"Huh." She quips all lost between the interaction and accidentally bumping into two beautiful men kissing eachother, she's totally jealous! Poor thing tries to jerk the mud from her toes and to have a last glimpse of the man with marble irirses.

"D'ya think I've a chance with that daddy-long- legs-one? Dunno, but he intimidates me so bad." Ronny whispers to her and she frowns sniffing with her already runny nose from being a bit tipsy, it's making her bouncy little by little and she knows the bevvys she had will have a full swing within the night, "why? He seems nice."

"His hotness truffles, it intimidates me." He scrapes his already chipped nail polish after washing his hands from the basin throwing towel at her face, she just sighs putting it back in the rack.

"How about you talk to him first." Parties has teeny perks of them and gigantic disadvantages 1) Ronny gets a school crush at every boy he looks at. 2) They get more sweaty, stinky, gluey and more wilder till the clock hits 4 am. Honestly, even if it wasn't for the free bevys she would have never stepped in.

"That's the hard part." They push people aside like stuffies getting cursed and groped in return.

"He's not gonna know himself, Ron, you dump-stick." Good she doesn't need to yell like before as the music has dimmed to a hum possibly about to shut down within minutes. Halting, beside some people crowded alongside the couch some sitting on it and their confused heads shots up at first at the sound of familiar vibrations.

The worst scenarios of someone having a bullet up in their hole and peeps around having a show passes for a mere sec in their heads, together, that's why they're friends since the first semester of UNI.

But, upon seeing what's the ruckus about Ronny shakes his head in utmost panic, "oh no . ." He tries to escape from her grip but she tugs him from collar, "Please Ronny, swear 'm ready to over come my fear! Nothing's gonna happen to me." They stand beside the guy sheepishly (like two elementary kids deciding who'll step inside the staff room first) a gun perched in his hand and Y/N realizes that he indeed's the same guy she met outside, this time she could see him properly and those hickorey of curls brushing the eternity of his popping clavicles.

His back to them but she could see the flex of his muscles from under the sheer black of his shirt with the each movement he does with his gun, she admits that he got prettier back than her.

"Ey Harry this's my friend Y/N and she wanna overcome her phobia of needles, be a damsel in distress pal." So, they know eachother. The whizz of gun stops midway and he dismisses the drunk dude under him tilting his chin to meet her eyes, and it was worth it as it took tiny gasp from her.

He's way beautiful than he was in the darkness.

Ronny was right. It daunts her a bit. The name Harry itself is some kind of royalty.

"Oh, hi there, again." He greets her with a warm smile and it glitter-glittery her insides, will you please not she scolds herself. It's probably the alchol her subconscious assures her but her nervousness from the idea of really doing this says otherwise.

"Have a seat, love." Oh holy goodness. He's as sober as judge and she at whole is miffed.

Harry isn't a popular senior. No. His charm's something that woos everyone and his name's always on the top list of invites, he avoids them though unless it's his closest friend. Him remaining to himself has casted a spell on everyone that his personality's intimidating and he's this sex god who has an only concern with fucking people.

He could be called a nerd from his grades everytime being higher than last semester but his attire and being a shining star of the Christmas tree gives it away.

Everyone likes him, ah-ah no everyone absolutely loves him. The thing's he has never felt the same in his twenty-one years of life and that's a fat bummer.

He just gives that "please stay away from me" aura, brows always sewn together and bottom lip jutted makes him appear rather passive aggressive to strangers (well the people who knows him loves him for being the most chill person walking around them).

Right now, he got a tat gun in his hand and everyone's getting a drunk tattoo for the remembrance of this stupid party or just that they've a kink for pain, possibly for humiliation too because what could a tattoo gotten in an unconscious state could bring you?

"Y'alright there?" He asks her and she bobs her head clamping her hands shut in her lap. The rainbow broch on his loafers intrigues her about his fashion senses, it makes her jealous she can't afford to have her own style, "Yeah!" She avoids to even give a spare glance to the gun in his hand because she knows the moment she'd, it will make her dizzy.

She feels bad for cliff hanging him to herself only but he doesn't seem to mind at all. Waits patiently for her to guard herself as Ronny pats her back like she's about to summo wrestle.

"Want me to start it?" He knows how bad it's for some people. Many times he had an encounter with weak hearted persons who got dragged into his parlour by their friends and ended up running away, "Can you give me a moment?" She lifts her head towards him and it makes his forehead knit into concerned lines.

The poor bug's giving a purple face as if she's about to throw up and her ears pink.

"Take all y'want, darlin'." His gentleness flows over her head, she thinks that the music has died or she has gone deaf, can't be neither, cause no-way that such a sweet call wouldn't make her toes all gooey.

"'M ready!" She puffs out a huge exhale moving her shaking wrist nearer to his grasp and he gives her a comforting look before wrapping his fingers one by one around her delicate wrist, skidding the stool he's been sitting on closer to her, "al'ight truffles 'ere we go — wouldn't hurt promise." He decides to stick with truffles since Ronny calls her with the nickname everytime he's at Harry's. Thought his blabbers of his friend were exaggerated coating of sugar but when she's sitting infront of him with those glinting eyes and soft flesh in which his lanky fingers seems to turn pudgy, he gets it why he calls her that.

He keeps on glancing up at her to see if she's okay — she has her hand placed atop Ronny's thigh while he distracts her with his "let's throw shade at mean bitches together" game and Harry just hovered the nib of it over her skin when she passed out but Ronny quickly placed his palm against her cheek to pull her back towards his shoulder.

"'M good . ." She comes back from it with a weak whsiper-y voice trying to straighten up but the instant her already blurry vision falls at the needle again making a line so small it isn't even visible she passes out again and this time Ronny seems unfazed talking to a girl beside him (trust the lad they've done it multiple times but the pain and fear of needles never let her have a single tattoo inked on her skin), leaving Harry to sweat over her.

Sighing he shuts down the machine putting it aside and presses the back of his hand against her forehead --- to be more appropriate, and when she remains as if in the land of nod completely knackered out and woolly in Ronny's arms he realizes that she has passed out for real.

"Truffles?" He doesn't get a response from her.

She puffers out her lips blowing raspberries gazing at the sunny sky from the clear glazed window of the shop, chin resting in the softness of her palm as the cosy hall of it emptied from the rush the time it striked noon. The start of her shift's always effete and warm with honey-bees buzzing over the pots of pastel flowers outside, but the evenings are most tiresome and she has to do the closing in a grumpy mood.

"Can you pass me the icing tube, forgot it under the counter shelf 'cos of that pain in ass customer." He's their regular. Has constant complaints that their tarts are too sugary and they need to thicken the formula for their lattes, Y/N just bobs her head at his tantrums finding a way to shoo him away with a promise of next time, "yeah uhh — " Gripping the edge of marble counter she squats down and giggles at herself as she looks funny with her knees making a tent of her ruffle frock.

The door-bell chimes indicating the presence of someone but she goes for her rampage knowing Cora's there to attend them and she was about to pull her head back when she hit it quite painfully against the upper shelf, "Ow!!" She squeaks rubbing the sore spot stabling herself while Cora chuckled taking the tube from her hand to go inside.

She never expected someone to occur at this hour, moreso, she never expected someone like him to pop out of nowhere at their shop. He just doesn't seem like a person to have a merry making at little cosy cafés all to himself, it's been driving her crazy, she cringes at herself everytime when the humiliation of passing out infront of him invades her thoughts.

Half of her heart wanted to see him again and other half was glad she never bumped in him — but seems like nature was evily against her.

"Oops hi!" When she couldn't fiddle with anything she adjusts her frilly apron and with her wrist brushes her loose tresses away which her bow failed to keep. He blinks for several times sipping in the consequence, though it gives her time to take in his appearance.

He's yet again, wearing a sheer shirt with white flower buds spiraling from his abs towards the broad of his chest displaying his inked skin underneath beautifully — it shimmers every time he shifts on his feet letting the sunlight fall on him. His curls tamed and silkier than before, he groomed himself too good it puts Y/N to shame for being a girl, a careless one.

"You work here?" He asks with a drawl as if he has a all the time to dedicate to her, "nope just broke in to do a fat robbery — wanna join?" He cackles, hard it quelled his tummy and it also made her smile blushy-ly that he didn't find her humour boring.

"Okie . . S' what you'll have?" Brassing the belly of his nose he clears his throat roaming his eyes to catch a perfect spot, "'s okay if'll be waitin' fo' someone there?" He points at the nook aligned with the fuchsia coloured book shelves, wooden pots hanging and embroidered throw pillows piled and some overflowing from the love seats.

"Totally!!" She chirps. The thought of him waiting for a date sinks summat a tiny globe of mud in her stomach and dunno why — She wishes she could've things that other people have without burning themselves in effort unlike her.

She watches him getting comfortable, scrutinising around with curious and adorable big peepers. He'd give her a shy smile everytime he'd catch her staring and she'd just shake her head treating her back to track, that he's on a date, but not with you.

She didn't forgot to ask him if he needs anything putting a glass of water at his coffee table without him requesting, it's perpetually hot and even her throat'd get dry after some minutes. He's been here for two hours and even though the weather cooled down spotting pearly drops of rain, perspiration still beaded at his forehead.

The bustle of on goers kept on dying and she feels bad for him, knowing the end of it, she's been there before many times. Even visualised it at this same shop far more she should thinking the world's kind enough to even let their date know with q single message.

Sensing his timorousness she paddles towards him getting a coconut cookie from the jar, onto the plate and sliding it in his line of vision. He seems flustered — everytime they've interacted she's the one to be not in one place and now he's ripping the threads of his tattered skinny jeans.

"You can munch on this cookie, if you want to!" He looks back and forth between the cookie and her, fuziness spreading in his chest glad at her kindness and enough trust in him to not to kick him out, "Thank you." He grabs it taking a bite and she giggles when in the single one he left no crumbs behind, his mouth's big, shut it already! and so pink so pulpy, oh my goodness I hate youuu!!

"'M sure your friend's on way, it's rainy, might —" He cuts her off with a dissapointed spurt of breath, "dunno." He sulks into sofa folding the corner of book's page.

"You still've an hour till the cáfe closes, don't loose hope!" She pats his shoulder and he gives her a weak smile doing that bunny scrunch of his nose, combing his already wrecked hair and thanks her for the next thousand time.

Harry had worst dates. This seems to top them. To be honest because of Y/N being here. What will she think? What if she thinks it's his fault? That he's a broken dummy who nobody wants to date? He wants to grumble and call his date to end things but he waits patiently as the sky turned lilacs of night.

Y/N feels remorseful and angry at the person who stood him up this pathetically. With a sad sigh she turns the closed sign to display outward silently looking at him while he's in his own trance, she disappears into the kitchen and Cora gives her a knowing eye.

"Not believing in love's my greatest descion up till far. It's impossibly hard out there." She retorts. Placing a hot chicken steak atop the alfredo pasta and sprinkles parsiman making it appetizing, "Tell him to better end things with a pig like them." She says in all seriousness handing the tray to Y/N.

He's there. Gazing outside with lips pressed into a thin line and he seems down with his loose errand of curls tucked into a man bun now, a perfect hairdo outta frustration "Harry." She keeps her voice low not to startle him gaining his attention.

"You didn't have to." He shakes his head and she made a noise un-recognized by him putting the tray on the table and moves the ottoman with her feet closer to him sitting on it, "let's be eachother's date for a day." She hands him a fork and he accepts gladly. His sulkiness wooshing away when she digs in taking a bite and smearing the sauce all over her lips.

"If you don't mind me asking, is it the same behind-the-tree guy?" He nods. She frowns spitting grumpily, "what a prat." With the help of knife she tears the steak equally sliding it to his side and he smiles boyishly sucking the corner of his lip inside.

"'M sorry, Harry." She squeezes his knee and it bundles up the air in his lungs, "'s okay truffles — glad you were there fo' a rescue."

"Y/N." She tells him forwarding her hand to shake and he slips his calloused ones to envelop her warmth. His cheeks turns pink when his stomach made noises of starvation, "you need to eat c'mon!" She nudges his elbow and he obliges.

After, filling their tummies satisfied and full she hands him a cuppa of latte with a foamy sleeping kitty floating over it she even made two eyes and the uwu kitty smile with the cocoa powder, "pardon me if it seems like I murdered the poor thing . . . 'm still learning from Cora." His giggles were absolutely amazed and gleeful.

"It looks so good, I don't feel like stirin' it." He pats the bum of steamed floffy kitty with the curve of his tea spoon and it makes her giggle some. Relishing onto strawberry pastries and crumpets oozed into butter, sipping onto their lattes, watching the sky turning dark with the rain while Cora left them hours ago to themselves.

She puts a velvet cloak around herself after closing the shop and Harry waits for her as she takes her bicycle, "Thank ye' Y/N. 'S kind of you." He stirs his gaze from his shoes to her face smiling brightly at her and she waves him off with blushy cheeks, they walk along under the shelters of sideways shops avoiding to get soaked while she holds the steering of her bicycle.

"You can lounge at my place, till the rain stops." When he shakes his head she quips turning into the street, "I insist." They stop infront of the old white sculptured building having two floors in total.

The first thing she does entering into her flat's greet Tofu (it's a Bush-tit a white furball with two curious tich button eyes) leaving Harry to get out of his shoes and slip into her house ones (they barely fits him -- making him chuckle at the size difference).

His eyes giving a beautiful glimmer under the glow of the yellow light as he looks around the space, it's simple, with a bedding on wooden floor, a circle shelf against the window lined up with green plants, a desk opposite to it and a golden standing cage of her pet bird.

"Hi bubba missed me much?" She opens the cage to let it out and the chonky white bird sits on her fingers happily, "Harry meet Tofu." His lips curve upward at the lil thing as he caress it's fluffy head.

"Tofu looks like a snowball." He muses with bambi eyes and she agrees with excitement, "Sometimes I wanna squish him, cause he's just too cute." His eyes widens comically laughing softly at her statement.

"Evil thought said out aloud with cuteness still remains evil, love." Tofu hoped over Harry's finger and he takes him towards his shoulder making it sit there but he has another plans, to rest his furry bum over Harry's head making both of them giggle, "c'mon now birdy time to fill your tummy." She tip-toes to catch him in her palms and knocks her nose with Harry's in the way.

"Make yourself home!" She announces going to feed her pet and Harry flops onto her bed quite comfortably with his sweny legs stretched wide over the floor. They watched episodes of 'Bridgeton' wounded under her blankets and she almost fell asleep when he offered her genuinely.

"I'll help ye' have a tattoo, tiny atleast."

"Means alot to me." She yawns pondering with lug brain whether to snuggle into him or not, she did anyways. In the morning she was woken up by cold sheets and beeps of messages from Harry that made her feel she endured wings of fairy and she's bathing in the glitter of happiness.

She stares at the shop infront of her in amazement. It's friday night. She winded up all her assignments and came to this place exactly how it was mentioned in the address, when she enters inside spare teens and a bulky man was waiting outside the office thing-y . . .? Y/N presumes — an assistant chewing loudly on her gum talking onto phone with someone in hushed bratty tone and when Y/N knocks at the counter her piercing stare startles her a bit.

"Yes?" How rude! Y/N thinks with a pouty lip at her striking tone and she clears her throat, "'m here to meet . . . Harry." The snarky assistant rolls her eyes dismissing Y/N quickly to move back to her lazying, "He's busy." Y/N picks her finger to interject murmuring something under her breath and strolls back to wait with everyone.

Sun sets outside shimmering evening pink inside the lobby and the door atlast opens making her head perk up, "pet?" He looks sternly to his assistant but she doesn't seem fazed.

"Harry." Y/N grins, "Fo' how long you've been here?" She feels good someone's caring for her even though it's just for the fact she waited some hours for him, "doesn't matter can 've a tour?" He nods and the bratty assistant eyes him furiously taking Y/N's hand to lead her.

Harry watches her with dimply smile when she babbles at the details of his working station, "do I sit here?" She asks excitedly and he shakes his head, "yes, you may." They scrutinise through his sketches of designs together and she squeezes his wrist.

"Harry you're so talented! Look at 'em." He never felt this flustered with the compliments before button nose scrunching adorably. She chooses a a small plain jamsine flower nothing more, nothing less watching collect things for the process, "it's one of me mama's favourite." He exclaims rather proud snapping the latex gloves round his wrist.

"Where d'ya want it?"

"Where it hurts less." She replies wiping the sweat away with her frock, "it's outer shoulder, yer arm, calves and arse — " His mischievous grin awfully stretchy and she she slaps his bicep playfully.

"Outer shoulder?" She tells him confused to herself. He agrees strolling his stool near to her as she turns her back to him; his fingertips twitches when he pushes her hair to the side.

"Can you uh . . mm." She groans trying to reach for the zipper of her frock and he smoothes down his erratic heartbeat muttering, "yeah sure." She digs her nails into the delicate flesh of her palms when his calloused cold knuckles brushed deliberately against her skin while skimming the zip down slowly. Her eyelids flutter like butterfly wings when he slides her sleeve down her arm revealing her shoulder and it's so supple that Harry had to come back from his reverie; lick his lips to moisture.

He applies the numbing cream and she hisses softly the leather of seat sticking to her calves, her nerves jumbles and body startles when Harry starts the gun without warning her.

He loops his arm around her waist atop her thigh massaging it assuringly — sure it did nothing but to make her core throb insatiably as his rasp melted in her ears, "you're okay puppy." She gulps saying no word feeling her body getting hot at the each stroke of his thumb over her waist line.

"Ah -- Harry." She gasps out of air grasping his hand tightly at the sting of pain. She's baffled at the reactions of her body, her panties getting wet and the displeasing constant pricking of needle quenching out noises she never thought she was able to give out. When she whines and squirms Harry presses her down with force shushing her, "bug just a mo' it's smaller and would be done in seconds." She kisses her teeth bobbing her head vigorously and Harry chuckles at her effort remaining polite.

"Done!" He announces pulling away to admire it and when he hears the lil sniffles he quickly leaves everything sitting infront of her on the seat, "darlin' don't like it when ye' cry." He wipes her tears away not even glancing at her exposed collarbones and the plump flesh of her tits barely covered with her arm.

Soft and squishy, soft and squishy, soft and squishyyyyy.

His mind screams but her whimpery voice distracts him, "'m just gleeful that I've a tattoo because of you." He wraps it up expertly and zips her dress back with ever gentleness, "happy tears then?" She giggles with a grateful nod.

"Want a hug?" He thinks she deserves one for being brave and nice against her fear, "cuddle me up." She murmurs with swollen eyes and peachy cheeks. Uff — it stirs his cock in his jeans arousing the need to be with her everytime.

He rests his chin mushily into the crook of her neck swarming his arms around her waist to squeeze her warmly and she snuggles against his throat, damp lips puckering against his adam apple making it bob.

He feels jammy to be able to have a moment like this with her.

"Chinese takeout?" He collects his sketch journals, his phone, fedora apparently, keys of his motorbike and a spare helmet for her, "Yes please!"

They ate the take out perched against his bike with the meadow vast laying feet aways from them, under the breezy sky they conversed and Harry already got a tender spot for her in his heart. He never reaches to a stage where he could get to know someone with this passion and Y/N isn't from someone who'd guard herself from him just because his father was in the bad business.

As the evening brisked with cool dew of summer grass Harry leaned into her more and more.

He finds her little things infatuating, her bonding with Tofu and her dire wish to make good bum steamed kitties on the lattes, she has an irrefutable love for floral dresses and her homely habbit is doing ribbon work.

She got to know that Harry owns the tattoo shop, teaches few blokes the skill of it in free hours. He'ad attended lots of parties raving ones and the boring ones of higher socials, never lets any stranger step inside his loft which's situated upstairs of his shop. His father does all the criminaly things, he's this master mind in doing the evil things for people from getting money out of their enemies yada yada and Harry despises him for it, moreso, that he left them. He doesn't want to be associated with him in any case — he's none like him, he's kind and soft-hearted like his mother.

Y/N loves his goofy side. The one that cracks jokes and puns -- makes her fall in love with him without her even trying.

Last and foremost he has the render love for sheer shirts — told her he has shimmery ones for the fancying off.

"S'm no stranger then." She quips beside his shoulder as Harry unlocked his home's door. He glances her timidly amicably hovering over her lips, "absolutely not, yeh me bezzy." He raises his fist and she bumps it giggling.

Y/N that night sleeping on his bed dreamt of them laying together into the pillows of growing daffodils of meadow, lining up the stars in the sky and tell each other what they made ----- galloping rabbit, a slipping cake and she'd laugh with ugly snorts when Harry tells her that he sees a massive dick.

His grin proud and mellow to make his bezzy laugh. She squeaks when he pulls her onto him but soon her dreamboat sinks as she stirs at the warmth swallowing her whole.

She startes from her blurrines at something trapping her down till she recognizes the familiarity of two mascular arms sewn around her waist and what the fuck?

Harry made a makeshift pallet on the floor and right now she's all over him, pressed tightly against his chest — her cheeks turns red with embarrassment from being this clumsy and falling over him in her sleep.

"Oi, Harry budge over you bugger!!" She hisses with sleepy voice but in return he squishes her more.

Taking her face out of his neck she admires the softness of his features when he's asleep and the dotting of beautiful moles, sighing a huge relaxed puff of breath and canoodles into him like an affection starved kitty.

It's another cool rainy day and Y/N keeps on swabbing the droplets of water off from her eyes with her elbow trying to paddle her bicycle. She was on her way to Harry's when the skies betrayed her. Standing on his doormat she soaks it completely waiting for him to answer the door, sad, that her gift was ruined too.

"Lovin' ye'll catch a cold – shit come inside." Concerned he ushers her inside his loft, halts in his tracks when she remains behind adoring a gruffy pout, "what is it?" He asks walking to her and cups her cheeks the instant.

"Embroidered ye' a shirt 's destroyed now." She raises it to show him and he stares it for good seconds before swiping her off the floor – hugging her to radiate the sentiment of endearment he carries for her in his heart. It bloats her cheeks pressed against his clavicles and her feet dangles as he sways them with a happy noise of favourite melody she's unfamiliar with, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." He kisses her temple and it lingers at the tip of his tongue.

I could kiss you right fuckin' now, pet.

"Harry you got wet too, dummy!!"

"Oops, guess we both have to change now."

Harry already set mixers for her on the luke points so that she wouldn't have to pull out her hair just to take a shower (his shower's quite complicated) leaves his shirt and boxers for her on his bedside, putting the lilac sheer shirt she embroidered for him in the dryer.

When she comes outside with trippy hair he already has two glasses of wine filled and windows closed to keep her warm.

She isn't a wine person. She was never able to afford it and it never settled with her tummy (she shares too much and feels bubbly with the rose coloured bevvy). Harry's gaze rakes from floor to her ankles snapping directly to her face and it's just snoggles his heart with fondness, seeing her drooled in one of his shirts.

"Need ya not to worry ye'r gift is good as before." He assures her and she flops onto the sofa beside him, "Thank you Y/N." He says genuinely and she waves him with small smile, "hush you."

They drink in silence, then soon it rośed their cheeks and noses making them giggly and floaty. A bottle gone in just a span of a time. She rumbles her lips stretching out, the twinkle of her belly showing and he does the same, eyeing him she slides down on the floor perching her elbow over the coffee table and YET AGAIN HE FOLLLOWS HER ACTIONS.

"Are you mimicking me?" She squints at him and he squints back, "are ye' mimickin' meh?" She smacks his bicep playfully and when he does the same though the force of it lighter than her's adoring mischievous grin making her squeal with chuckles, "Harry!"

He quips back in equal girlish pitch, "Harry!" blinking peepers up at her softly — to test her fates, the recipe of her drunken state and her heart bursting with affection for him she jests at him.

"I like you and might be falling in love with you." She says without holding back a breath and his eyes widen in an animated way chin slipping from his palm, "You what?" He's in utter shock. He has never come across the words she just said with so much delicacy and sincerity — it boggles him to an extent his tongue got tied.

"Say it back now, huh?" She smirks at him shaking from inside counting on to get rejected and ridiculed. Upset at herself more than him at his lack of response, clearing her throat she whispers.

"So — " But, her apology strucks in her throat when he pulls her to himslef with a gentle grip to her elbow. Grabs her jaw tenderly and with the ardent boldness smushes his lips against her's to seal his affinity for her in a kiss that's so soft it melts her inside. His hands brews at her sides and glides up to their destination, to cup her cheeks and deepen the kiss while billowing her in his lap comfortably. He devours the plumness of her lips, tracing the curve of her bottom one with his warm tongue and kisses the corner of her lips again and again making her puff out air from her nostrils.

He has kissed people and it was always to lead something to satisfy the cavity of loneliness, but this, this already feels like home sitting infront of the Autunm fire eating cookies and drinking milk. She feels like the mold he's meant to melt into and explore every ridge of it.

She doesn't not know what's filthier the string of spit that's connecting them or his raspberry lips that she could kiss and kiss for forever, he doesn't stop there pecks her several times with lil smooches, "You're really good at it." She winds her arms tight around the nape of his neck murmuring against him (she wants to make him feel appreciated), his cock chubbing up in his trousers and it lulls her head against his cheek upon feeling it. The thought of having him hard for her boasts the genitilty in herself and she kisses his smiling mouth.

"Wanna make ye' feel good." He presses his lips back against her's with more passion than before and tips her chin with his thumb to stamp lil pecks down her throat feeling his lips tingling to kiss her again, it's way better than he envisioned. Her softness could swallow him and the thought makes his hips stutter imagining his hard prick sucked inside her swelled up walls. His large calloused hands meander down her bottom taking the ripeness of it in a bunch of squeeze.

"On the bed." He pats her bum pinching it playfully and she squeaks obliging him giggles when she bounces over the bed. Him crawling behind her as lion ready to feast over a hare.

Leaning against the head of the bed he lays her between his wide spread legs, her back against his chest and their fronts facing the tall framed mirror infront of them.

"Comfy?" She bobs her head gulping cause no one has ever cared what'll be consuming for her and what not, "I want ye' to look in the mirror sweet girl, at us." He rasps in her ear stroking the hilt of her jaw in continuous circles and when she hums fluttering her eyelids, arching her back at the throb of her pussy and his dirtiness making her slick down to her bum he glides his thumb inside her mouth telling her to, "get 'em proper wet for me." She does coating his thumb with her saliva and flicking her tongue over it many time while he glazes his palms over her ribs, under the crescent of her tits shirt pulled to her collarbones.

She gags around his digit when he took her perky nipple in between his middle and index pulling it then kneads it with a kiss to her earlobe getting her out of his boxers telling her, "enough, pet." When she doesn't listen to him and kept on sucking thinking of his cock in her mouth he gruffs splitting her thighs apart and pressing the soles of her feet tightly against the mattress with his own ankles, "I said enough." Shushing her hungry kitten whimpers he trails his wet thumb down her fallen lip and chin, popping her shirt open and rims it around her areola, "s' soft wanna rub me cock between 'em tits." The shiver that hits her makes her squirm and Harry gives a chaste kiss to her open mouth putting his thumb at her entrance ready to play with her cunt.

"Your eyes open 'em fo' me, puppy." He ducks down to kiss her not letting her turn around himself so that her neck doesn't strain while caressing his fingers up and down in her slickness making soapy noises on purpose, when she finally looks in the mirror locking eyes with him as if he's holding the most precious gem in his arms — the sight turned her spine into a sharp arrow, "c - ca-can I've more?" She gasps squeezing his bicep pussy lips fluttering and her hole palpitates aching for him.

"My polite girl." He smiles awfully fonded at her and she nods licking her lips to speak, "'m good, good always." He pushes his two fingers inside her cunt and she moans with her whole will trying to sink herself to his knuckles nails digging into his shoulders, "I know ye'r." He assures her sliding them out and teasing her little pink asshole turning her into a whining mess.

She twitches around his fingers when he pumps them back along with her sticky wetness and fucks her with them, flickering her clit with his other hand and kneads the inside of her fleshy thigh. She gives out a gaspy moan of unbearable pleasure when his cock's stiffeness rubs between her asscheeks, "ye' feel it? S' fo' you, gonna stuff yeh full of me cock, fuck you nice n' warm and cum all over yer pussy. How you deserved to be fucked, is that okay?" She never expected him this much of a lewd talker — hell she didn't even expected him to step out of his conserved, rather shy demeanour, "yes, yes, yes." She visioned him as a curt dom, who's more into BDSM but he's warm and caring with her. Just in few second of them doing it he proved it how much he's loving to please her.

"Ah! 'm gonna cum . . . gonna —" His sweet vulgar words combined with him toying, rubbing and fingereing her already swollen pussy tips her to the edge she was desiring to get from him, "cum all over me fingers. Want it s' bad from ye darlin', to see you." He says in a tone that's on the verge of pleading but holds a commanding hint under it and with her bones all stiffing, her skin burning and heart buzzing she snaps into her own dreamy world gushing over his fingers with her juices.

"Oh . . Harry." She loudly mewls thrashing in his arms from the intensity of her orgasm and he holds her tight with his arms wrapped around her torso, kisses to the curve of her neck and exposed collarbones. He notices her stiring away from his hand due to sensitivity and takes out his fingers with a squelching popping noise that made her blink from her semblance. Her chest heaves as she watches him in the mirror licking her cum off his wrists with the tip of his pink tongue, "mhm tastes s' sweet." One by one he sucks his finger humming around them seductively spiking her insides yearing to be fucked by him, "just like you sweet puppy."

Gently laying her down he knees infront of her getting out of his flimsy shirt and Y/N admires the flounce of tattoos trailing from his pecks down his adorable love handles. Her gaze stops at the his happy trail leading down to where he's swelled up against his zipper and she hasn't seen someone so beautiful in her entire life, he shimmies his joggers down teasingly with a smirk and she whines hiccuping when his cock slaps against his lower abdomen making her eyes go wide.

"Oh my . . " She gasps at the gorgeous sight of his rock-hard cock between his supple thighs. He's beautifully big, satiny and a dot of shade lighter than his lips making his prick so kissable, would it even fit?? She could already imagine it stretching her out gracefully and stimulating her in ways her fingers could never, "you're so gorgeous button."

The shiny swollen tip, and the dollop of pre-come weeping down his slit alluring her to have him in her mouth but he strokes it not to waste it.

"What's the pout fo' darlin'?" He asks as she stares it making him all shy but he overcomes it persistent to make her feel good (she shared with him that she never knew what being cared feels like) he wanna gives her all lovin' as she did to him the day in cafe. Cups the nape of her neck to bring her for another kiss splitting his thumb into her hair and the moment is so vulnerable and saccharine as he snogs her to floatiness, "will make sure it fits — make you cum many times, baby." He flips her gently.

"On ye tummy fo' me, like an atta pup ye're." It knots her stomach into ropes and she jolts squealing softly into pillows when he smacked her peach watching it jiggle while tugging at his prick to coat it with his thick wetness.

He moans biting his lower lip lulling his head over his shoulders stroking the head of his cock between her asscheeks and round her entrance not pushing at once torching both of them, "you're so delicate wanna be slow with you." He whispers to her pressing his front against her shoulders while wrapping his hand around his shaft to push inside her.

"It's okay!" Her tiny squeaks rolls into a moan when the head of his cock settles inside her and when she twitches around it he cruffs a groan coaxing her sides, "shhh baby 's okay relax fo'me." Taking his hand away from around himself he places it atop her ass withdrawing and looking down to see her cunt glistening with his and her's wetness — then bottoming out deep inside her till his balls are snug against her bum. His stomach twists with pleasure at the warmth that blankets his cock completely making him hunch but he recoups with his arms pressed beside her temple.

The stretch that burns through her core's so pleasing and fulfilling. It hurts in a good way. She knows how patient and composed he's being for her, from the way he fattens tucked inside her walls and he slides his hand between her front and the sheets to caress her soft breasts moving with rough pace.

"Don't stop, please." She recites the mantra almost crushing his fingers with her grip around, it's alot, the constant rub of sheet against her clit and him driving inside her from behind with moans sexier than in erotic audio books. He draws loose circles over her mound making her thighs spread wider with the inability to hold them as he pinched her clit coercion her sensitive button, "oh my god . ." With the whimpers of his name she squirts around his cock and it makes her throw her hips at him.

When he pulls out to turn her on back she whines with a frown, heaving chest and coral cheeks looking totally fucked already, "wanna see ye'r face when you come . . . s' beautiful." He hisses hauling her legs around his waist lowering himself down to enter her with lil smooches to her cheeks, "cum again fo' me baby — yeah just like that squeeze on meh." He pounds her over and over grinding his pelvis against her's to stimulate her in every way.

Feeling the heat crackling in her bones and tummy she takes him by shoulders to cuddle him closer to her chest raising her hips to meet his's, a crying mess, with glossiness twinkling at the corners of her eyes as she comes with euphoria dawning upon her and Harry works her up again.

"Once more, love, i know you've one more fo' me." He gives out a purry groan biting her throat and the valley of her chest, snuggling against it with kisses — when she shakes her head through around him he lines up his nose against her nose petal–ling his lips over her's, "yes you could puppy my sweet — " His eyelids bolting shut at the built of up of his own release and the moment she cums with his cock now he shoots his thick spurt deep inside her.

"This's what it only took fo' you? Callin' ye mere sweet names." He fucks her through it and Y/N admits that he went with his promise --- fucked her like she had never before, they remain like that for some time catching their breaths and then he pulls out of her gently and pumps himself to empty his load shooting it over her pussy and abdomen, "you came so much." She says completely baffled and he steals a chaste kiss from her looking at the white ribbons sticking to her skin.

"Just for you, babyhun."

He tells her not to move and whisks away coming back with a pack of baby wipes. Her hearts swirls with so much fondness for him when he pats the wipes between his palms to get them less cold and shushes her with pecks when she hisses with sensitivity.

They take another shower, this time together and it's not sexual at all though alot of tired poofy kisses and cute yawns were included as they gave eachother shampoo massages and she'd cooe everytime untangling his long hickorey curl.

They changed the sheets (unapologetically very clumsily) and he fetches a glass of water for her making it drink her.

When they were cuddled awfully good he lifts his head up from it was nuzzled between her titties. His accent drawly and slippery from tiredness, "Y/N." He checks if she's asleep and she hums in response starting to play with his hair lazily.

"That day when me date didn't show up?" Witha half heart she hums again, she doesn't like to talk bout that day, because the hopelessness that conquered him that evening still makes her sad.

"I was glad ye' were there 'n 'm so so so thankful that he didn't show up. Else we wouldn't be here in eachother's embrace 'n me heart still'd been mournful to sleep in cold sheets waiting fo' me person." It's the most he has talked in his soberness. It wells up tears in both of their eyes.

"You're my person." She cradles his face hating it that he was kept so love starved his entire life and she gazes him dearly, sweetly, affectionately all the words that could describe love for someone spilling out of the chambers of heart.

"I want to love you so much, pet, make you me most treasured human hershey."

"I'm in, cuddle me up." He grins smauching a loud kiss to her lips and cosying back to his previous spot purring like a kitten thrown into heaps of fluffy blankets.

#HARRY STYLES SMUT #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry smut #harry x y/n #harry styles blurb #cute harry #hsh #fluff #harry angst #harry styles fanfiction #dom harry #HARRY WRITINGGGG

309 notes · View notes

the-final-sif · 4 years

Text

I’ve been thinking about the red sneaker theory, and my brain went to “hey, guess who 1) has had an extended encounter with Shigaraki, long enough and at the right angle such that he would have plenty of time to notice his weirdass shoes and 2) grew up with someone who was quirkless (and is no longer quirkless), and who could reasonable know about the limited shoe options for quirkless people in highly athletic jobs (and that getting a quirk second hand does not change the pinky toe joint)”

That’s right! It’s Katsuki Bakugou!

Now I’ve got a scene stuck in my head of how this revelation would play out.

Shigaraki has Katsuki captured and is trying to convince him that AFO is really a savior, maybe even telling his own story to try to win over Katsuki. Not that he was buying any of this bullshit anyways, but something about Shigaraki’s story feels wrong to Katsuki, he glances down and whose eyes catch on Shigaraki’s bright red shoes. With black laces. And white bottoms. Katsuki’s brain suddenly puts everything together, because he knows what brand of shoe that is. He’s learned to associate it with instant annoyance, because there was only one person he knew that wore them. Since Izuku had defended his ugly shoe color by explaining it was his only option, Katsuki not only knows what brand it is, but he knows who they’re made for. There’s only one reason Shigaraki would be wearing those shoes.

After putting all this together in a moment of him being oddly quiet, Katsuki looks back up.

“Tell you what,” Katsuki starts, his tone setting Shigaraki on edge for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. “I’ll consider joining your shitty club, if you can explain something for me.”

Shigaraki is hesitant, but certainly doesn’t think he has anything to lose here, so he nods and Katsuki continues.

“Let’s make sure we’re on the same fucking page here first. So you, the grandkid of someone All for One wanted revenge on, just so happened to get an extremely rare mutation that gave you a very powerful and destructive quirk that’s incredibly difficult to control. You ran away, and just so happened to not run into any heroes, police, or anyone who in general gave a shit, until All for One was, I dunno, out on a fucking walk? Randomly noticed you, and despite him not giving a fuck about anything, he decided to take you in and make you his successor on a whim. No idea who you were, he just felt like it. I got all that?”

While upset by the obvious doubt in Katsuki’s voice, Shigaraki nods anyways. That’s all correct.

“Right. So that’s all the stuff both of us know. Let me add in a bit of extra fucking knowledge here, some shit I don’t think you know about. You know people born quirkless, right? Do you know how to tell if a kid is born quirkless?”

The seemingly random topic change was almost startling, but Shigaraki answers without thinking.

“An extra joint in the pinky toe.” He knows that much. It’s one of those facts you just sort of hold onto. But he can’t actually remember how many an ‘extra joint’ is. Maybe 4? It’s irrelevant.

“Yep. That’s not quite all of it though. See, as I’ve found out, anyone who gets a quirk from someone else doesn’t lose their toe joint, and anyone who loses their quirk won’t grow a new one. Makes it easy to tell who was born with their quirk and who wasn’t, assuming you can do a fucking xray of their foot.”

It makes sense, the toe joint was a chromosomal link, not cause and effect. So quirks being changed around later in life shouldn’t change that. Shigaraki still has no idea why Katsuki was bringing this up.

Katsuki ignores his confusion and keeps talking.

“Fun fact though, and by ‘fun’ I mean ‘shitty’, that extra toe joint means quirkless people need different shoes. At least if they’re gonna be using their feet a lot. Since they’re in the minority, there’s not a lot of shoe options out there. Even less for high activity stuff. I grew up with someone who was quirkless, and he was into athletic shit, so he only had one option for shoes. The brand is pretty unique, and fucking ugly. I’ve never seen anyone without that extra toe joint wearing the color scheme.”

Suddenly, Shigaraki doesn’t like where this is going. Not one bit. Katsuki once again pays him no mind, plowing ahead.

“Bright red shoe, black laces, white bottoms. Super fucking distinctive. Clash with fucking everything. They stand out like a sore thumb, and there’s no way anyone wears those because they like the way they look.”

Someone was breathing quickly, and Shigaraki realizes it might be him. Was Katsuki further away? Had he taken a step back without realizing it?

Shigaraki knows whose shoes Katsuki is talking about. He’s worn this exact style of shoe his entire life. All he knew about them was that they were the only sneakers that didn’t make his feet ache and groan. Sure, he’d tried other brands at various points in his life, but none of them had fit quite right. He never understood why. Never thought about it for very long, because it hadn’t been important. Or maybe because he hadn’t wanted to think about it. He still doesn’t want to think about it.

“So given all of that. Given that according to your story, you were born with a quirk. Given that every shitty outfit I’ve seen you in is just fucking black besides your footwear, which you’ve kept the same despite changing the rest of it several times. Given all that shit, we get the part I need you to explain for me.”

Katsuki’s eyes find Shigaraki’s, red meeting red and forcing Shigaraki to listen, even when all he wants to do is clamp his hands over his ears and drown out this blasphemy before that final question comes and makes it real.

“Why the fuck do you wear shoes made for quirkless people?”

Both of them know the answer. Shigaraki can’t bare to say it out loud. He can’t let his life fall apart like this, not over something that shouldn’t have mattered. Everything he thought he knew was crashing down around him.

Funny how many secrets could be unraveled by something as insignificant as a pair of red shoes.

#tomura shigaraki #quirkless tomura shigaraki #bnha theory #mha theory #katsuki bakugou #the red sneaker theory #sif speaks #the league of villains #sif writes #my headcanons #bnha #mha #ficlet

1K notes · View notes

makethiscanon · 4 years

Note

Dunno if this is what you're looking for, but if Kirishima falls asleep next to you, you always end up as either a pillow or a teddy bear substitute. no matter how much you try to wiggle out of his grip, he just hugs you tighter

Ahhh!! That’s so cute! Okay. I’ll try and do this fluffy HC some justice.

Lean On Me

You and Kirishima got on as well as any of your classmates. You had your own friendship groups, but still hung out from time to time, cooking meals or watching TV in the common room.

One evening in particular, Class 1A settled down on the couches, preparing for a long movie-night in. Kirishima, Bakugou and Shouji were running late. They were still freshening up after hitting the gym.

Everyone settled into their seats. To your surprise, no one took the place beside you on the couch. Did you smell? You weren’t sure, but you weren’t complaining when it meant you got some extra room to stretch out.

That was, until the final trio arrived. Bakugou sat on the floor, Shouji found a spot next to Tsuyu, and Kirishima dropped himself heavily into the space beside you, narrowly avoiding your legs as you scrambled to pull them out of his way.

He chuckled when he spotted your soft glare.

“Sorry, ____. Didn’t realise you wanted the whole couch to yourself.”

“It’s fine,” you said airily. “You make a good foot rest.” And to make your point, you stretched your legs out over him, only laughing when he grabbed your feet to secure you in place.

As long as he didn’t tickle you, you wouldn’t have to kick him in the face.

The movie played and everyone settled in for the night. Popcorn was passed around and Kaminari spilled his soda everywhere, but as he did this every movie night your classmates simply shuffled away as Yaomomo threw a tea towel at him to mop up the mess.

On the couch, you managed to keep your feet on Kirishima as a show of defiance for around twenty minutes. But after that, your legs started to ache. You wiggled them free then chose instead to lean against him, figuring a leaning-post was just as good a punishment as a footrest.

Only, you weren’t quite prepared to have Kirishima nonchalantly hook his arm behind you, giving you a comfier spot to lean against him. His gaze didn’t leave the TV once, like it was nothing for him to offer you his services as a pillow.

Still. He was comfy. And as he was freshly out the shower, his styled down hair felt soft against the side of your face as you leaned against his shoulder.

The movie carried on.

Kirishima smelled nice. He was warm and surprisingly cuddly. You felt yourself lulling to sleep against him.

After a little while, he rested his head against yours. You pursed your lips together, holding down a smile in case your classmates looked over. His breathing turned heavier. It sounded like the gym session had taken it out of him. You supposed you could be his leaning-post too.

It was strange, but very pleasant, how comfortable you felt cuddling up to Kirishima. And it wasn’t long before you felt him nod off to sleep, seemingly just as comfortable with cuddling you. His head went heavy on top of yours.

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to keep still for long, you moved to let him sleep on your shoulder. His arm slipped down from the top of the couch, snuggling in behind your back, and his free hand groped until it found your sleeve to hold on to.

You chuckled but kept yourself quiet as best you could. You didn’t want to disturb the movie, but most of all your didn’t want to disturb him. You hoped he wasn’t too light a sleeper. If he woke up, he might be embarrassed by what he was doing and move seats. You didn’t want that. You liked him here. He was warm and cuddly, and even though he was unconscious you felt a sense of safety as he clung to you.

The movie carried on. All too soon for your liking, it finished. But your classmates, thank them all, weren’t ready to sleep so Aoyama chose the next title, and all the while Kirishima didn’t move.

That was, until you tried to reach for the popcorn Ashido offered from the next chair over. When you stretched away from him, Kirishima wrapped both arms around you, keeping you in a vice-like hold that made it hard to move.

Seeing your struggle, Ashido got out of her seat to offer you the food, chuckling at Kirishima as he unconsciously christened you his teddy bear.

Even if you wanted to, it didn’t look like you were going anywhere any time soon.

Not that you minded.

Even when he was asleep, Kirishima’s cuddles made you feel safe and settled, and you hoped the movie marathon lasted long into the night.

------

[PART 2 IS HERE]

OK so apparently I liked this one so much that I’m carrying it on? Have some more fluff.

#Kirishima #My Hero Academia #Kirishima Headcanons #Kirishima Imagines #Eijirou #Eijiro #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #bnha x reader #MTCfics

214 notes · View notes

aeondeug · 4 years

Text

Ok so I made a post about why I didn’t like Gideon initially and I’ve talked to others about it. And I’ve seen a lot of people having the reverse experience. Which is cool, I think. And one I’m not surprised by if I think about how the two characters are introduced initially. Like, maybe Gideon’s humor is dumb but also she’s not the one being like “Oh man, it is time to systematically destroy this woman’s hopes that she has finally done it and escaped from me and my hell planet,” at the start of the book. Harrow is though. Harrow’s intro is very...Harrow. It’s very fitting for what is learned about her later on.

Anyway. I feel a desire to like. Write about the other half of this equation. And why it was that I instantly latched onto Harrow so hard. So like I said in the first post. Harrow’s got STYLE. She’s got like bone jewelry and wears all black and has skull face paint. She uses her own blood as ink for her fountain pen (it being a fountain pen matters) and she gets said blood by stabbing herself in the cheek. Also she’s a necromancer, which is just icing on the cake. Harrow’s entire fashion statement appeals to me as someone raised by a goth who ended up like...Never goth fashion or subculture wise, but someone who was a kid that Dreamed of being goth fashion wise. Alas, I went to a boring uniform school and also was too nervous of such things.

Harrow just LOOKS cool. Harrow is the sort of person that a dumb 13 year old me would have found the coolest and have viewed as like. An Aspiration. Even though she’s kind of a dumbass and also a dick. I was an edgelord of a kid and an edgelord who knew who Bauhaus were before I could read.

So Harrow’s instantly got fashion on her side. And she’s got her attitude. Which is also important. She does things for style and looks. The narration, which is from Gideon’s perspective, describes the fountain pen filling thing as “one of Harrow’s favorite party tricks”, I believe is the quote. When asked about why there are suddenly skulls all over their room her sole answer to this question is “Ambiance”. And she clearly cares about how she looks. Her paint is often described and a point is made that Gideon’s is not as well put on hers. Also? Her outfit? She’s got like. The bone wrist circlet thingies and her bone studs and her bone choker and the fucking bone chest thing that I am forgetting the word for right now. Harrow cares about appearances.

Which also shows in like...She makes a good show of how well read she is. Takes pride in that fact not just privately, but lets people know it. She runs off and tries to stubbornly do a puzzle on her own. The thing to wake her up from her near death stupor from failing in that is something insinuating they are better than her. And she’s still half dying but takes the time to state that, no, SHE is the best necromancer. Harrow’s got an ego and that shows from early on. Through things like how she dresses, how she talks, how she treats Gideon...

And I saw that and I just kind of instantly latched on. While reading early in the book and seeing her do a bitchy thing, I once joked that “Has anyone ever hugged Harrow?” and then jokingly decided that “No. No one’s hugged Harrow before.” This was a joke that I had made as someone with a rather neglectful family in several respects. And as someone whose general well being in their home was decided by how good I appeared in comparison to the other kids. In that sort of situation, not having much else, I took great pride in my being well read. In being Smart. This eventually made me insufferable as hell and that was crushed into the dirt. Either way, depressing story time aside. I made a joke that indicated that, early on, I had pegged Harrow as someone similarly neglected. As someone with a similar lack of anything going on.

Turns out I was right. Her situation’s very different from my own because of course it is. This is a book about space necromancers, after all. But she was a neglected child. One who had to grow up far too fast and who had a very strict and overbearing religious upbringing. Does that sort of thing cause that sort of concern for aesthetics and bitchery? I dunno. But I made a guess, as a joke, and the guess appeared to be right.

Another thing that I made a bet on with this early on was like...The nature of the relationship. They are the only two of their generation on that planet. Gideon is made out immediately to be like an indentured servant of the family. While Harrow is immediately revealed to be a high status fancy nun queen with a fancy title. Harrow’s parents are dead by that point and had been dead for a while. But, I knew, that theoretically they were not dead at some point. A point which Gideon had to be old enough to remember, given some of the comments made. Based on their antagonism towards one another and this set up...

A part of me wondered if like they had in fact had like a Favorite and Unfavorite dynamic as kids. Or I guess not actively wondered but like. The thought was in mind. Because I had grown up as The Favorite in a terrible home which had an Unfavorite. And this makes you a terrible person as a kid. So I saw these very small signs at the start of a book which hides most of the cool Harrow facts and interactions in its latter sections. And was like, on some level like, “Ah. You’re a bitch to her because you’re The Favorite. In part.”

I am kind of always looking for abused and neglected Favorites in fiction. One of my favorite characters is Azula. And I’m very fond of Gamora. I have a tendency to find them and latch onto them because like...I am still working through things. A lot of things. Sometimes seeing it in the things I read makes the stuff I am working through less terrifying. Sometimes it gives me a sense of hope. Either way, seeing a thing that is at least somewhat similar helps. And I look out for it. And Harrow apparently just gave off. The Aura. From the very start.

Because lo and behold, she was neglected as fuck and, indeed, the Favorite while Gideon was an Unfavorite so unfavorited that she was viewed as basically cursed and horrifying. And then Harrow was a mean bastard of a child towards her. And then it turns out that Harrow has like 10,000 weird guilt issues. Some of which involve her treatment of Gideon now because...How on earth could you even like her when you grew up with her? Like. How.

But even before those reveals later on...I had been making my guesses. Enough so that one of my earlier jokes about the book was about how no one ever hugged Harrow and how she is out doing this shit for some sense of fucking acknowledgement for once. Because maybe if you’re acknowledged that like...Will count. As your Actual True Affection quota for the day. Harrow was not just stylish and mysterious. She also had little bits and bobs, either that she revealed herself in her few appearances in the early portion of GtN or which were revealed by way of how Gideon talks about her and acts about her, which hinted towards the basic idea of what Harrow’s deal even was.

I did not guess the exact specifics of Harrow’s deal because who the hell could divine that from the first act of the first book. But I did guess at the core idea laying behind the specifics of that deal. And the deal was that she was the neglected but favored child in a really shitty home, who has ended up with an ungodly amount of guilt issues for her behavior and general existence. And it made her mean, guarded, and protective of her image and it gave her an ego sky high. Which you can all see in the first portion of the book to an extent. Even though she is very scarce in said first portion. Which I think is either a tantalizing mystery of “What the fuck is even your problem, Harrow?” or like just enough info in just the right way for people with a similar experience to go “lol no one hugged you when you were a kid” with a knowing prescience.

#the locked tomb #harrowhark nonagesimus #my experience was basically my instantly pegging her for having the same sort of damage #and making fun of her for it #and then realizing i was right and feeling progressively sadder for her

61 notes · View notes

karasimpno · 4 years

Text

{Day 14} Take It Like a Man | Daichi x Reader

Pairing: Sawamura Daichi x Gn!Reader

Genre: fluff, cheering up your adoring boyfriend

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: None I don’t think! One (1) shirtless Daichi :)

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

That’s the best part: the outside is new, but now it reflects what’s already in you. Couldn’t change that if I wanted to. —Take It Like a Man; Legally Blonde: The Musical (music and lyrics by Laurence O'Keefe and Nell Benjamin)

Daichi had never needed a suit.

He got into the police academy right out of high school, and from the training through his required duties, all he ever needed was his uniform.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to dress – he could always muster together a pair of slacks or a nice sweater on date nights. He just never went out of his way to buy really nice things, let alone nice clothes for himself.

So as he began the arduous task of grappling with mounting issues within the force and mulling over whether to pursue a career change, you wanted to do something nice for him.

“Y/n, c’mon, where are we going babe?” Daichi asked, grinning as you tightened your grip around his bicep. Your laugh was light, bouncing off the walls of the mall you were walking through. Your boyfriend had been so closed off recently with the stress of work and job hunting, it brought a smile to your face just to see him loosening up.

“Just trust me, Dai. I wanted to do something special for you. C’mon!” you encouraged, tugging him around the corner to—

“What’s this?” he asked, facing the entrance to the large department store in confusion.

“We’re going shopping!” you sing-songed, lacing your fingers with his and tugging as you stepped from the polished cement of the shopping mall over to the bright white tiles of the department store. The change in atmosphere was evident: you were met with harsh halogen lights overhead and the overwhelmingly pure oxygen being pumped in through the vents of the pristine entryway.

“I—baby, shopping? I don’t—” he protested with a playful grimace. You were quick to shush him, taking his other hand in yours so that you held them both, facing him and meeting his dark chocolate irises.

“Take a deep breath,” you told him.

“I—”

You squeezed his hands to show him you were serious. With a grin he half-rolled his eyes and fluttered them shut, taking in and releasing an inhale that was more of a sigh. His calloused hands engulfed yours, and you delighted in their warmth.

“Love?” a sultry voice interrupted Daichi’s train of thought. Blinking his eyes back open, he was met with the sight of a woman presenting a perfume bottle between the two of your connected arms.

“Sorry?” he asked, his brows pulling together with a wrinkle as you did your best to repress a grin. Has he never been in a department store before? you wondered.

“Love,” she said again, offering a spritz of the liquid in the air between the two of you. It smelled overwhelmingly of roses and you fought back a cough from its pungency. “The new fragrance from Chanel,” she offered alluringly.

“Ah, no thank you,” Daichi responded with a polite smile and a single firm nod. The woman slinked away, hips swishing enticingly with her eyes still on Daichi, but all his focus was on you. “I already have all the love I need,” he said with a playful smirk. You grinned back at him and felt abruptly warm under his gaze when his hands squeezed yours. You were reminded of the strength and safety of your boyfriend’s arms and pressed yourself against his chest momentarily, wrapping your arms around his neck. You felt his arms pull you in closer and you melted a little, seeing an unmistakable warmth in his eyes. He was just so in love with you, and even being dragged around a shopping mall was worth it if it meant being by your side.

“Look,” you sighed, feeling your heartbeat slow and sync up with his as you pulled away slightly and gently traced your fingers up and down his toned bicep. At home you would have rested your forehead against his and just stayed there.

“I know how hard things have been lately,” you continued. “With the police force and everything I...I just wanted to do something nice for you. Let me do this one thing for you,” his face grew impossibly softer and you knew he wouldn’t say no to you. “I want you to have some nice clothes—a suit—” you corrected, “that you can be proud of yourself in,” you pressed gently, running your hands soothingly across his collarbones, over his shoulders and down his arms. He wouldn’t articulate it, but this meant a lot to him. It wasn’t that Daichi didn’t think he deserved people doing nice things for him, he was just so used to being there for others, supporting them and being their foundation, that it often took him by surprise when someone went out of their way to notice and do something for him. He raised one of your hands up to his lips and pressed a firm kiss to your knuckles.

“Okay baby,” he whispered with a smile. Your smile was twice as bright and you quickly laced your fingers with his.

“C’mon then!” you encouraged playfully, pulling him alongside you to the men’s section. Selfishly, you smiled to yourself upon seeing the racks of woolen polyester blends and manicured lapels. The old saying really was true - suits were their own lingerie of sorts for men.

“Okay,” you said with a smile as you pulled him into the middle of the sea of navys and blacks. “We can try on the jackets out here to get a sense of what kind of style you like, then we can choose a whole ensemble based on that!” Daichi looked at you with a loving sense of bewilderment. You amused him endlessly. “So just grab something that catches your eye!” you told him, beginning to dive into one of the racks. Daichi chuckled softly and began paging through a rack of his own. His back turned to you, you held up a wine-dark purple suit jacket that had caught your eye almost immediately. He turned to you with a nondescript, low-cut dark grey blazer in hand, an amused smirk on his face at what he saw in yours.

“That, I don’t love,” he said pointedly. You narrowed your eyes playfully at his aversion and your mind began to turn.

“That’s really nice, Daichi!” you encouraged his selection, still not returning yours to the rack.

“C’mon,” he pushed, walking over to show off how much better he looked in the grey, slipping it over his shoulders—and God did he look good. “This is more my style,” he said—and he had a point. “That feels like something Suga would wear,” he said, referencing the purple fabric in your hand. “He’s gotten so... I dunno, dapper lately,” he mused, trailing off as he turned slowly, modeling the jacket for you.

“Okay you’re right,” you smiled, quickly putting the jacket back in the rack and resisting the urge to run your hands over his strong back, accentuated by the pleats in the suit jacket. You sighed. His hands found yours again and you were instantly charmed by his smile.

“Okay, grab that pair of pants,” you said, eyeing a slim cut in the same color that would flatter his thighs and accentuate his stature, “and a white collared shirt and....I’ll meet you in the dressing room,” you said with a grin and a wink. Daichi held back a chuckle, shaking his head at you and obediently following your orders. Surreptitiously, as he started walking off, you grabbed the matching wine-dark purple vest from the suit jacket you had been eyeing and marched over to the dressing room, picking up a understated striped amethyst tie on your way over.

There was no one attending the dressing room kiosk—it was practically dead on a Tuesday afternoon—so you quickly slipped into the hall, eyes landing on the only closed door. Finding it slightly ajar, you slid in to find Daichi with his shirt coming over his head.

“Hey!” he said in surprise, half-covering himself with the removed shirt. His rippling form was still easily visible and you smirked, leaving the vest and tie on a hook.

“Hey yourself,” you said, lowering his raised hands to reveal more of his chest, your nose getting right up in his face. “It’s not like it’s anything I haven’t seen before,” you winked. “Don’t forget these,” you told him, quickly stepping towards the door. He eyed the purple fabric skeptically; it was certainly a departure from his usual uniform or bland business casual in the alternative, but you had a good feeling about the pop of color and his skin tone. Daichi sighed, unable to resist your smile as you eased out of the stall. He decided he was going to humor you.

After a few more silent moments broken only by the shuffling of fabric, you heard Daichi’s voice softly from inside.

“Okay this is...” he opened the door, making you inhale sharply. The pants fit him perfectly, snug over his muscular thighs and cutting straight down to the floor. The white collared shirt popped against his the color of his skin as the charcoal grey brought a handsome elegance to his appearance. And the pop of color—you were absolutely right. He was glowing. And the best part was, he didn’t even know it.

“Y/n...you’re staring,” he poked. You laughed at yourself, giving him space to walk out of the dressing room. You busied yourself with doing the tie that laid undone over his chest, focusing your eyes on the material to avoid the heat in your face. Feeling his breath ghost over your skin, you forced back a grin and stepped away to admire your work, trailing your fingertips down his chest.

He glanced down at the tag on the inside of the jacket.

“Holy—Y/n, is this the price?” he asked disparagingly. You quickly swatted the tag out of his hands.

“Hey, don’t worry about that. I’m getting this,” he opened his mouth to protest but you quickly slid your palm over his eyes, using your other hand to guide his shoulder away from you and down the hallway.

“C’mere, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” you whispered in his ear as you led him past the other dressing rooms to the floor-length tri-fold mirror at the end of the hall.

“You ready?” you asked, resting your chin on his broad shoulder. He sighed and muttered something about “...as I’ll ever be.” Your heart jumped a little and you pressed a kiss to the seam at his shoulder, sliding your hand away from his eyes and letting both hands land on his hips. You were unwilling to pull away from him in his moment of vulnerability.

The reaction was clear on his face. His jaw dropped a little, almost going slack as his eyes widened and took in his reflection that even he had to admit looked rather dashing. The suit clung to his form and brought out his wide chest, his strong hips and legs. The V of the jacket accentuated the natural musculature of his body and the hints of purple just put him all together.

“Woah,” he breathed, his eyebrows furrowing. “I look.... I look like Kuroo,” he teased. The corner of his mouth twitched but his eyes stayed locked on his form in the mirror. It was true, he had the outward appearance of the businessman who came to your shared home for dinners sometimes.

“But...it’s just me,” he said, and you squeezed him tighter for taking the words right out of your mouth. He began to turn his head back to you, his eyes seeking out your face as he tried to wriggle from the discomfort of being on display like this. But you held his hips firm.

“That’s the best part,” your voice softened. He swallowed, meeting your eyes in the mirror as you brought your chin back to rest on his shoulder, arms wrapping around his waist. He was absolutely stunning, the formal attire giving him a new glow.

“The outside is new and beautiful. But now it only reflects what was already there. Nothing changed, it just brings out the man I love. The man I always see—and I would never want to change that,” you told him softly.

His hands came up to squeeze yours and he turned in your arms. You beamed up at him and he took your cheek in one hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered. He meant it.

“No, thank you,” you said. “This is for agreeing to get lunch with me that one day so long ago and for letting me into your life. I love you.” “I love you too,” he smiled, beginning to walk back to the dressing room.

“Oh and there’s one other perk,” you said flippantly.

“What’s that?” he returned with a smirk.

“You look really hot,” you winked. He hooked an arm around your waist and pressed his lips fully against yours. He was so in love with you and couldn’t believe you were his. And you hadn’t even gotten to the shoes and belt yet!

A/n: THIS ONE’S FOR ALL MY DAICHI-LOVIN HOES!!!! @starshaped-raindrops this is what I was on about the other day. And thank u to @ceo-of-daichi for encouraging my Daichi love in the first place I love y’all!!! This is such a fun song and it always puts a smile on my face. Fun fact: originally we had Daichi for Perfectly Marvelous and Akaashi on this one but it just made SO much more sense to switch the two. Hope you enjoyed!!! Thanks for reading:)

Taglist: @izagraceee @musicgetsmeoutofbed @azo-musxas @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp @starshaped-raindrops

#daichi #sawamura daichi #daichi x reader #daichi fluff #sawamura daichi x reader #elle writes #25 days of ficmas

96 notes · View notes

postmodernmulticoloredcloak · 4 years

Text

So due to popular demand I watched episode 2 of Walker for you guys. Part 2 of 2

The pilot was more interesting and it wasn’t interesting. But let’s continue, maybe it’s gonna get better.

So my cookies are ready now! I ate the smallest one to check if they’re good. They are. At least I have my cookies.

Apparently now they have to take a horseriding test. Walker puts the saddle on a horse. But he gets emotional. The flashback music starts. If I see more of these I will develop rabies symptoms. I’m sorry this is what we’re talking about. This is Geneviève Padalecki’s role in this show.

Walker gets on the horse. He touches the bad and the flashback sound effect plays. Rabies. “Walker are you okay?” Ramirez asks. He nods. I’m Fine Lie #9000.

No, wait. He gets off the horse. Dude it’s called handling a loss badly and they have therapists for that. Please go to therapy. There are literal professionals trained to help you with that.

He takes off his hat, which lets you know this is serious.

He goes at the bar run by the lady who was with Emily when she died. He is no longer a ranger until he passes the test. We are happy about it because he is not in the psychological conditions to be a law enforcement officer. Oh, wait, we’re supposed not to be happy about it. Honestly, I’m not sure. Is he supposed to be relatable, or are we supposed to think that he’s screwed up and should not be a cop or a parent right now? Because he’s ostensibly the latter but maybe the intentions of the writers are the former.

He says that James thinks he’s “not quite right in the head”. Mmm… are we supposed to think James is being exaggerated? Because it’s true. He’s not in the conditions to do this job… he needs to get professional mental health support, period.

They reminisce about Emily and Walker repeats the same things that made him think there’s more to the case than it appears, like the way her eyes were closed. The bartender confesses she closed her eyes. Well. That was anticlimactic.

In the meanwhile, Liam the gay brother meets his partner for lunch. He’s attractive. Liam would also be if he weren’t dressed and hair-styled like that. I dunno. The partner wants them to move to New York. They joke about dying of queso.

Augustus goes to take pictures with his mother’s camera and has a glowy flashback of his own. “He’s sensitive. He keeps a lot inside, like his father” his grandma comments to her husband. They talk about Walker fixing the house. “He wants to pick up where he left off” she says. I am hurting inside. Did they write this with the Supernatural pilot script open on the desk!?

Ramirez keeps working the case. Turns out, the horse that died wasn’t the horse it was supposed to be (a famous racing horse). Someone swapped the horses? I don’t care, actually. I’m gonna skip the case details.

Walker eats tortilla chips with queso. And begs Ramirez to let him work on the case because that’s all he knows how to do. That’s stolen from a couple Supernatural episodes when they talk about hunting, but okay.

“You know how you can see a horse’s soul in its eyes?” …no, but okay.

They’ll need to find the mysteriously disappeared horse… which is loose! In the hospital! No, not in the hospital. Just on a road. Best shot in the show, big dark horse walking around Austin.

They need to go find the horse. Obviously Walker volunteers to get the horse. “Might not be a ranger, but I’m still a cowboy”. I’m crying this is so cliché.

You know Walker is cool because he gets out of the truck without using the little step.

It’s so deep.

Oh my god. He. He follows horse dung. It’s. It’s literally a plot point. He tracks the horse following horse poop.

He finds the horse, feeds him a lil sugar cube, puts the reins on him. It’s a beautiful horse. Can’t the show be about this horse?

Billionaire bad guy (owner of the horse, set the fire to pretend the horse was dead because lots of bets were placed on the horse, but the horse was lightly injured so couldn’t win) driving towards his plane to catch his plane to escape. James and Ramirez do a car chase.

Bad guy lackey shoots at their wheels so their car stops. But Walker arrives on the horse, gets Ramirez on the horse and they ride the horse to the bad guys’ car. Ramirez gets on the car and punches the bad guys unconscious.

For some reason (I mean, budget limitations) the fighting sequences are very quick. I would have watched more of Ramirez kicking billionaire bad guy’s ass on a moving car. But it’s fine, I mean, if this show had a bigger budget they’d spend it on more cowboy hats, so it’s fine.

Walker, James and Ramirez celebrate at the bar. Apparently the bad guy’s lackey that was supposed to get rid of the horse loved the horse too much and set him free in Austin. Mood.

There’s still a third of the episode still to go, though. Drama will ensue. Indeed Liam arrives and is super pissed off at Walker for missing lunch, which he forgot because he was busy with his lil tests.

Liam says Stella didn’t show up to the game. Walker says he know where she is and gets Ramirez to come with him.

Indeed she’s thrown a party at their house. Walker asks her what she’s doing. “Being a disappointment I guess” she answers. He asks her why she missed the game. She says that it shouldn’t be so easy to get a second chance after messing up - like him. He’s like, a second chance? It’s not like a stopped being your father. Except… you did? You disappeared from their lives entirely. He calls her out for damaging the house and she’s like, it’s not even our home anymore but I’m supposed to treat it like a museum? Honestly her scenes are the only interesting thing in this show. He says he’s back now, but she says that being back isn’t enough, what makes a parent is *doing parent things*, supporting the kids.

“I wish uncle Liam had gotten custody of us when he tried” she eventually drops the big bomb. Ouch.

He’s super pissed off, takes off the hat dramatically, and drives back to Liam. He gets off the drunk and immediately assaults Liam. “You tried to take my damn kids!”

I’m flabbergasted. They. They just wrote a plotline where a gay man tried to ~steal a straight man’s children~ like it was a good idea. I mean! Liam getting custody of the kids would have been a VERY GOOD IDEA but what, we’re supposed to think he was wrong? I am so confused because I can’t tell if we’re supposed to be on Walker’s side or not. He is NOT in the condition of being a parent. The kids SHOULD be under the custody of their grandparents and/or uncle. Not because he’s traumatized by loss, but because he’s not trying at all. He keeps saying he’s trying but he’s not. He gets aggressive too easily and it could be dangerous.

Anyway the brothers have this physical fight which isn’t by far the most embarrassing thing in this show so I’ll let it slide. “You had no right!” Walker says, to which Liam replies that he gets it was rough but “you went dark! That was negligence!” Which is absolutely right and he should have gotten the custody of the kids. Liam mentions that their parents also agreed on the thing, and Walker yells “these are MY kids!” which is appalling, because being the biological father of some kids doesn’t make it okay to disappear on them for months and being mad if someone else stepped up to be their parent in your absence. “I didn’t want them to be orphans, did you!?” Liam yells back.

“I would never _take_ them, I wanted to protect them,” Liam says, and says more very reasonable things. “Even now you’re not here.” Walker yells that he is here (again, being physically in Austin doesn’t make you a parent, like Stella said), Liam replies that he’s chasing ghosts.

He brings up the things that don’t add up again, like the poker chip. I’m afraid that the narrative will prove him right, that there WAS something there and he was right to follow through the case despite everyone else telling him he was being delusional and that he should let it go and focus on the family. It would be actually good if it turned out that there was nothing there, that it was all coincidence (like the friend closing her eyes) and that he just chased ghosts for real, but I’m afraid this isn’t that kind of show. I think they’re playing it straight, that they’ll make Walker be right, and it will suck.

A note: now that he’s fighting and yelling and being angry, Jared is actually acting properly, which I don’t know if it’s a good thing or creepy.

Actually Liam says something very reasonable now, that answers will not actually satisfy him, her being gone will never make sense emotionally. The poker chip isn’t going to bring her back. He will lose everything if he keeps searching for something that isn’t there.

Now that Walker has calmed down, Jared returns to doing Jared mouth things. Oh no! Augustus watched them fight.

Oooh. Augustus gives him the present Emily was going to give him for father’s day. Poker chips. “She kept a few of the chips so she could show people” (what? But okay). Another of the mysteries was actually not a weird conspiracy at all. I suspect the narrative will make us believe there was nothing there to just pull a twist afterwards. It would be interesting if Walker were indeed looking for nothing, but I doubt that’s what they’re doing. They’re playing the tropes too straight.

Meanwhile Ramirez comes home to her boyfriend preparing a homemade dinner. She says she’s happy he’s there, and that scares the crap out of her. She wants to get both the job and the relationship right. They’re really cute and I hope their relationship doesn’t get drama-fied for drama. A healthy relationship where two partners figure out how to navigate it together, with normal minor bumps along the way they face together, would really be a good thing for the show to portray.

The next morning, Walker is making breakfast when Stella enters the kitchen. She doesn’t speak to him but gets on her phone so he starts texting her. They have a moment. He was looking for him mug and she gets it out for him. She says it reminded her of him being gone so she’d put it away. They do a bonding activity (bringing a memento from their old house to their new one), she cries, he hugs her.

Back at the ranch, Walker’s father has made him a new saddle. Gramps Walker is rough around the edges but has a hidden wisdom.

The emotional moment is kinda broken for me by the big Texas flag they have inside the house. I suppose it’s just how Texas is but it’s still funny for that very reason.

Augustus for his school project has put together a video from old family footage. Lots of flashback, but this time with a regular song and not the rabies sound effect and with the soft lighting but not the most extreme glowy effect, so it’s kinda okay.

Jared makes emotional faces and the episode’s over.

Well, at least the dead guy having been to prison wasn’t really relevant and the bad guy was a billionaire. An improvement from the previous episode.

I’m not going to give views to the youtube trailers, but I’ve been told in the next episode a new character will be introduced that is a childhood friend that is ~the Han Solo to Walker’s Luke Skywalker. *single tear of sorrow* They’re trying SO HARD to be Supernatural and they’re managing to pick the least interesting concepts of Supernatural to do so. Can’t wait to see Fake Dean. Also we haven’t seen Walker lasso a person either. I suppose I’ll have to watch more of this.

Honestly, it’s mostly boring with Stella being the only interesting part and Ramirez and her boyfriend being cute to watch. Walker is so unlikeable. You want him to get his shit together for the sake of the people around him, but not really for his sake. He should go to therapy but he is a manly cowboy man so obviously he won’t go (but I will be impressed if they actually have him see a therapist. It would be interesting to have a manly cowboy man see a therapist. But will they do it?) The idyllic flashbacks of Emily are so overdone and it’s only the second episode! Everything is cheesy.

This traditional Texan ranch aesthetic meets Austin city would be interesting if played in a way that genuinely questions the values of old, but the show doesn’t really, it uses the gay brother and the immigrant friend and the Latina cop and the Black boyfriend as props but the narrative itself doesn’t really do anything with the traditional Texan family thing. Unless they really pull the rug from under the audience’s feet and make some big twists regarding the way the narrative is presenting itself, there’s nothing really interesting or useful in the show. I’m afraid they will solve their problems by Wanting To Do Better and Sticking Together As A Family, which is just a conservative fantasy of how to fix problems.

By the way, the cookies were really good and my family loved them too.

#marghe watches walker for some darned reason #cw's jared: legit texan

52 notes · View notes

colorfullfalls · 4 years

Text

Blast to the past

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Summary: Soulmates are very tricky because sometimes two people who are meant to be are born in two different generations. Your soulmate can be born three days after you die. Luckily the mystical universe transports you there to meet yours. That’s how you find yourself back in the 1960’s instead of the present.

Warnings: hinting at sexual assault

~~~~~~

Friday night is ladies night. It has been since you were twelve and it will be until you die. The core group gets together and does whatever seems interesting for the evening. The three of you ranged in activities of going to the movies, getting something to eat, thrifting, people watching, getting coffe and sitting at an empty park- you name it and it’s been done.

Tonight the gang decided to get smoothies and sit in an empty parking lot. The small town didn’t allow much entertainment for freshly graduated adults. Especially for adults that wanted more to life than such a simple place could provide.

Claire laid on the pavement, dark hair swirling around her shoulders as she turned to gaze at the moon. She was beautiful in the moonlight, soft skin glowing. You were always jealous of her unique good looks, but never aimed bitter thoughts at her. She was a warm and loving friend who was literally a ride or die.

Claire turned her head to look at Margo who was sitting upright with her keys in hand, twirling them around her hands. Margo was the wild one of the trio. The jokester who was basically a meme lord. You three fit like puzzle pieces, best friends for ever.

Claire and you shared a look of amusement as Margo dropped her keys, mumbling a quiet shit before laughing and picking them back up to repeat her actions.

“This is supposed to be a quiet, soul searching moment you know.” You deadpanned, lips curling into a smile as Margo rolled her eyes and flipped you off.

“If you wanted quiet then you picked the wrong bitch to bring along.”

Claire shook her head, “Okay, let’s post on snap about a replacement bitch. Preferably one that can be silent at times.”

You shifted so that your legs were pulled up in front of you instead of rested against the cold ground of the parking lot. A funny thing to add popped into your mind and you knew it would make them laugh, “There’s one more requirement though. It’s vital.” You added, swirling the contents in your cup to break up the remaining blotches of ice.

“Hmm?”

“They have to be willing to sacrifice their own life for Pakistan”

Claire busted out laughing hitting her cup off her leg and Margo snorted, causing everyone to laugh even harder. That fucking tik tok would never not be funny to you guys. Especially when their soulmates thought it was hilarious and would say it when you guys failed to.

Claire found her soulmate a year ago at a football game. Her soul mark burned when the cute player from the other team bumped into her after the game. Gage was the coolest dude you knew. He treated you guys like best friend and he treated her like she was the sky, the moon, and the stars. Not long after Claire found him, Margo found Naomi. A badass chick that was a tattoo artist in town. Margo now has little tattoos decorating her body from the designs her soulmate came up with. Naomi and Margo just fit, and you were happy for her. Happy for both of them.

Day after day with no luck of finding your other half, you were starting to despair for yourself. Soulmates usually found each other close to adulthood if they were in the right life time. It was disappointing to go to bed every night knowing that you were still alone. Your best friends loved you more than anything and always included you, but the soulmate connection was different- special above everything else. And here you lacked that.

Margo dropped her keys again but left them there. She picked up on your solemn mood after you didn’t talk for a few moments.

“I wanted to go camping this weekend, maybe you’ll find your lover there?” She softly spoke, giving you a hopeful smile.

You sadly smiled back, “I dunno, probably not. Sorta giving up over here.”

You looked down at the simple soul mark. An old pop bottle was the initials S.P in the middle with the letters DX very small on the bottom left underneath it. Marks were supposed to signify something important about your other half, describe something about them to you. Ever since you were old enough to remember you would buy old fashioned pop in order to collect the bottles. It meant the world to you.

“Don’t say something like that, of course you will meet them dude. We found ours early but that didn’t mean you won’t ever find them. I’m sure your other half is right around the corner.” Claire supported, patting your thigh for comfort.

“Yeah, it could be Harry Styles for all we know. And honestly it would make sense because how the hell do you meet someone famous like that?” Margo trailed off.

You scoffed, “Harry Styles- my ass. His indicator would so not be an old pop bottle. It would be a guitar or something like that.”

“I guess so. Point is, don’t fret. You have time. The world may fuck with people, but not good ones like you.” Margo grinned childishly.

“Yeah, you’re right. I am good. I sacrifice my own life for Pakistan.”

“God dammit, I hate you.” Claire stood up and offered a hand, pulling you both upright, “We better get going. The same cop has been driving by and I don’t like it.”

“ACAB.” Margo chanted as she crawled into the backseat of the car. You laughed and pushed her the rest of the way in with your foot before shuffling in yourself.

‘Best friend’ by Rex Orange County blared through the speakers as the car moved on the damp roads in the dark night. You guys sang loudly, hands out the window to feel the wind ripple against fingertips. Your heart filled with adoration of the girls in the vehicle with you. Getting sad about the soulmate thing sucked but dealing with it was easier when you had two people to assure you and take your mind off of it.

You waved bye as you walked up the steps of your house. You quickly noticed that no one else was home. Your siblings were off with their friends for the night and your parents went out for their anniversary. You sighed, taking your shoes off lazily. A warm bath would feel so nice to finish out the day. You stretched before taking a step forward toward the bathroom but your foot caught underneath the rug and you fell face first onto the hard surface of the tile.

****

Your body felt like it was on fire while rolling over to rest on your back. Forcing your eyes open, you gasped at the sight before you. Instead of laying on the bathroom floor, you were in an empty parking lot. Your heart thud roughly in your chest as you scrambled to stand.

Your mind began to panic as you didn’t recognize your surroundings. An old diner sat across from the lot and it wasn’t the one you, Claire, and Margo sometimes went to. You brushed yourself off and looked around, confused as to what was going on. Had you gotten drunk and imagined you were home and somehow managed to get lost? Did you fall so hard that you passed out and got kidnapped? Sharp pains alerted your mind to put a finger to your face. There was a scratch from where you fell, you must’ve hit it. You were just glad that your wallet was still in your hand but your phone wasn’t. You searched for it but no luck.

You meekly opened the diner door and shuffled inside. It was themed to be an old authentic diner. The usual black and white checkered floor tile, the twisty barstools, and the car sign decorations on the wall. Diners like this were adorable in your eyes.

You went to sit at a both and grabbed the young pretty waitress. She gazed at your clothes in confusion which made you internally frown. Your outfit wasn’t inappropriate or anything. Blue khaki shorts that came above mid thigh and a white and blue tie dye shirt.

“Excuse me, where am I?” You asked, embarrassment creeped up your spine as she gave you an old look.

“Tulsa. Are you lost?” She asked, shifting the tray to rest on her hip.

You quickly shook your head no, “Thank you, I’m not lost. Just uh, traveling. I’ll just have a water please.”

She gave you a funny look but nodded, going to get you the cup of water. Everyone in the diner glanced at you in curiously which made you paranoid. Alone without a phone and no escape plan. Not an ideal set up. You tried to rack your brain for what the hell was going on but you were outta luck.

Water was set down on the table and she stood there, observing you. You felt her eyes staring at your piercings, especially the hoop in your nose. You awkwardly looked up at her and smiled, hoping she would go away.

“That’s an odd looking necklace, Miss.” Her hand casually pointed towards the crystal gem necklace hanging between your breasts over your shirt.

You shrugged, “You’ve never seen them before? They sell them at Walmart or any hippy store really.”

She wrinkled her nose in judgement, “Huh, never heard of Walmart. Must be from wherever you’re from.”

You choked on air, coughing loudly to force oxygen back into your lungs. How could someone now know Walmart? Was she fucking with you right now? Waitresses usually weren’t rude unless you were rude to them first.

“They’re like nation wide? One in every town? Seriously, every town.”

No emotion appeared on her face as she shook her head no, “I still don’t know what you’re talking about... do your parents buy you those shorts? Do they care about your nose ring?”

You squirmed in your seat at her question, her voice carried a shrill tone that let you know that she didn’t approve. Jesus, did this girl think you should be in a full body suit without showing skin? You pulled them down subconsciously to try to hide some of your upper thigh. As for your nose ring, you were baffled as to why your that was an issue. So many women had them.

“I bought the shorts, but they don��t have an issue with them if that’s what you’re trying to get at? They think the nose ring is cute too. My parents are very cool with me choosing to do what I wish with my body.”

Her eyes widened in a holy-cow-you’re-crazy sorta way, “My parents would kill me if I looked like you.”

A dry laugh escaped your lips at her harsh words. And they were harsh, whether she met them to be or not. Putting women down wasn’t what you stood for and you really thought that the world was passed shaming people for what they look like.

“It’s twenty-twenty , they shouldn’t care about what you look like. Acceptance is key to a happy family.”

“What’s that mean?” She cocked her head to the side in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Twenty-twenty what is that?”

You glanced at the table to your left that was intently listening in on the conversation. You felt uncomfortable in the booth. Two guys stared shamelessly at your legs and you wanted to crawl under the table and hide.

“The year? It’s two thousand and twenty?”

She threw her head back, blonde hair following to fall down her back, “You really are an odd ball.”

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It’s nineteen sixty nine, dear. Your cheek is bleeding and I’m assuming you fell because you’re acting crazy.” She quietly said, bending down to your eye level. A part of you wanted to hit her so hard that she fell down. Condescending attitudes rubbed you the wrong way to say the least.

You were fuming as you took two dollars out and put them on the counter, “Have a good evening.” You gritted out.

***

The cold night air pinched your skin as you walked aimlessly around the small town. You came to the conclusion that it was 1969 and you realized why the waitress was so taken back by your appearance. Girls in the sixties probably didn’t have shorts this short or nose piercings. It all made sense as you took in the town. The old styled cars, how people dressed, hell- how they talked. Old ass terms that people only used as a joke now.

So yes, you were in the past, but how and why. Watching Shameless in your bed right now seemed like heaven on earth. Your mom and dad’s faces haunted your mind when you thought about never getting to see them again. Tomorrow they would get back only to see that you have disappeared without a trace. Your dad will be so worried and heartbroken and your mom will be calling everyone to ask if they saw you.

And what would Claire and Margo think? You just knew they would feel so guilty for not knowing when they were the last ones you saw. Hurting them only hurt you more.

You found an old tree and sat down against it, letting the tears splash down your face. It was cold out from the brisk air and you had nothing to layer up with. This sucks, mega sucks, you noted.

An old red Ford Mustang parked on the road and two men got out of the car and headed your way. You clutched your wallet close to your chest in predetermined fear. Two men walking towards any woman would make that woman scared. It was a built in instinct that still wasn’t gone in the twentieth century. Especially with the men from this time. You knew women weren’t truly equal yet and they especially weren’t in this time.

They had on khaki pants and different colored polyester sweaters. Same guys from the diner that were watching you. Horrible look in their eyes as they stood in front of you.

“What’s a pretty lady like you sitting out here alone for? It’s late.” The one wearing a yellow sweater asked. His hair was brown and smoothed back, you were unable to see his eyes in the dark. He bent down to look at you in a way you didn’t appreciate. You were not having it.

“Really? Is it late? Couldn’t tell, not like the moon’s out or anything.” You retorted, shifting further back into the tree.

“Woah, no need to get lippy with me, hun.” He said, looking back at the other guy with the red sweater. Red shook his head to agree with yellow.

“Let’s not get comfortable with the nicknames. I’d say I’d call the cops but hah, ACAB... not that you would know about that.” You trailed off. You rambled when you got nervous and it was not a good feature.

“ACAB? You’re a weird one, aren’t you?” Red said, leaning down too.

“Weird, but an absolute doll. Not many girls ‘round here show skin like you.” Yellow said, hand grabbing your thigh.

Your hand slapped his away lightening fast before jumping up and backing away. You took your shoe off and held it up in defense, “Go fuck yourself! Get away from me.”

The men looked at each other in shock, assumingly at the vulgar words that escaped your pretty lips. You backed further away until you felt safe enough that you put your shoe back on and ran. You heard their feet shuffle in the grass as they ran after you.

You turned down an alley way and tripped again on a stick in the middle of the road, the boys were suddenly visible meaning you would not have time to get up and run. Instead of trying to escape, you grabbed said large stick and grasped it tightly between your hands. You wish Margo and Claire were by your side right now. You could do anything with them.

“A stick? Really? We just wanna spend some time with you.” Red said, walking closer.

“Fuck this! Fuck this so hard! Fuck toxic masculinity that makes pricks like you think it’s okay to do shit like this! Systematically you were probably raised to think chasing a woman is okay- judging from the car that you have money. Kids with money, especially in these days, are spoiled and never told no, but I don’t want you. Leave.” You shouted, twirling the stick like you saw so many times in Starwars movies. You saw the two men slowly step back and you were proud of yourself for fending them off until you heard another masculine voice behind you.

“You soc scum need to bounce.”

You moved to the side to be equally separated from whoever was behind you. A man about your age stood firmly beside two others that looked a few years off, one younger and one older.

The one that spoke was standing in the front and boy, he was beautiful. Dark hair slicked black to rest comfortably against his neck. He wore a blue and white flannel with blue jeans. His body was slim but you just knew he had some lean muscle on him. Red and yellow turned and walked away but not without making some derogatory claims about greasers.

You panted, finally breathing again as you doubled over, stick still firmly grasped in between your palms and fingers.

“Are you okay?” You heard the same voice quietly ask. You noticed they were standing right in front of you now. You meekly looked up to gaze into his pretty blue eyes. He hissed out in pain as he looked at his arm at the same exact moment that your mark started to burn so bad that you couldn’t take it. A searing pain ripped through every single one of your cells. You did it! You finally found your fucking soulmate! Without being able to stand the pain and excitement, your body tumbled forward for the second time that evening.

~~~

You heard rustling going on around you, but you clenched your eyes in fear that you wake up still stuck in the past.

“If I open my eyes and I’m not home, I’m gonna throw hands with whatever God there is.” You mumbled, slowly opening your eyes. The handsome man sat on the floor by your face, causing you to yelp and quickly move to a sitting position, hand clinging to your necklace.

“Hey, calm it, I won’t hurt you.” His gentle voice spoke. You laughed nervously as it hit you that he was your soulmate. Your life was fucked, oh so fucked. Sure, you found the one, but in a different decade!

“The world is a cruel place.” You muttered, hands removing from your necklace to rub down your face in irritation, “My life is a joke.”

He sat up on his knees, cautiously moving closer towards you as if you were a scared stray cat that he was attempting to take home to keep and take care of. You internally gagged at the idea of being kept inside as a house wife now that you were living in this time. You could not survive like that.

“It’s not. Usually people are happier to find their soulmate, yanno? I’m happy... I thought you would be.” His voice seeped with disappointment and pain.

You sighed as you felt his sadness creep up your bones and invade your sanity, “I would be thrilled if I wasn’t transported back in time. I’m not kidding, I’m from year twenty twenty. I can show you.”

You grabbed your wallet and ripped your lisence out, showing him. His eyes squinted as he read your birthday and the date you got it. His eyes enlarged as he looked back at you.

“That- that’s just impossible.”

You snorted, “S’what I thought too. Guess the universe really shoved us together on this one... and uh, thanks for saving me earlier, my inner jedi isn’t strong enough yet- I’m no obiwan.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I don’t know what that means.”

You blushed, “Big movie franchise that eventually comes out. I’ll try to avoid pop culture references... my bad.”

He smiled, pearly white teeth showing, “you’re really pretty, y/n.”

Your heart raced in your chest at how attractive he was. Claire and Margo would hardgirl swoon with you over him but they’re not here to join you, so you had to soak up his beauty all on your own. And him saying your name like that? God, that would make any girl bust a nut.

“How do you know my name?”

He shrugged, “Saw it when you showed me the date. The name surely suits you. I’m Sodapop, Sodapop Curtis.”

He held his hand out and you hesitantly met his half way as if to give him a handshake, but instead he intertwined your fingers together before moving closer. His skin was so warm against yours and all you wanted to do was pull him closer and bury yourself in his chest. Finally finding him was overwhelming after convincing yourself that you were doomed to be alone.

“Those guys that chased you, we ain’t letting them get away with it. We’ll find them and give ‘em a good what for.” A new voice spoke.

A kid, you guessed to be about 16, stood in the living room doorway, hands shoved deep into his jean pockets. He had longer brown hair like Sodapop, but his eyes were more hazel instead of the pretty blue. You awkwardly smiled, attempting to pull your hand away but Soda tugged it back, stubborn to lose contact so soon. He gave you a sweet smile to reassure you that he wasn’t going to try anything like the two men last night.

“Y/n, this is my brother ponyboy, and that’s my brother Darryl.” Soda said, pointing to the younger kid and the full on man that walked through the front door. You nervously waved with the hand that Soda didn’t claim.

“Hi, thank you guys for saving me... although I think my stick was pretty promising...” You awkwardly spoke making all three of them chuckle softly.

“Better safe than sorry.” Darry said, offering a smile, “Come on, Ponyboy. We will be back.”

Darry signaled Pony to go with him outside, you and Soda sat in silence as you heard the truck doors and the rumbling of an engine pulling away. His thumb grazed over the back of your hand. Your insides felt like they were melting. Sodapop was extremely attractive and you could not believe that you found him. Harry Styles has some competition for sure. Well, maybe that was going far. It’s Harry Styles, no one could really beat him.

“So what’s it like here? What do you do for fun?” You asked, looking around the house. You imagined the houses around to be very similar. Old couches, ancient TVs with the antennae’s, framed photos on the mantles, and the cool old wallpaper. Very similar to the sorta place your grandparents grew up in.

“Play cards every couple nights. Go to the drive in movies when I’m not working. Diner is open late at night so that’s where young folk hangout. We find good times.” He smiled softly, getting lost in his own thoughts, “What’s there to do for you?”

You couldn’t even begin to explain that you lay in your bed watching tik toks off your phone while Netflix plays softly in the background. Or that you quote memes in a parking lot with your friends. Soda would not understand memes at all and that would be a huge struggle because half the shit that came out of your mouth were memes.

“I have fires a lot at my house, we usually sorta just sit there and bullshit for hours but uh then there’s the usual- getting coffee and sitting in a parking lot. Not much to do in my town but eat and go somewhere to hangout...”

“That sounds nice.”

You shrugged, “More people than not get drunk or smoke weed everyday because what the hell else is there to do?”

He quirked an eyebrow, “you do that?”

You shook your head no, “My friends and I drink from time to time but not heavily. And we especially don’t go to parties because those are cesspools waiting to be caught by cops. Well, fuck cops anyway, but..”

You froze when you realized that cops in this time weren’t critized by the public as much. Political climate ranged from your time to now. Soda probably wouldn’t support the LGBTQ community, or if he did he didn’t know much about it. And racism surely lingered in the 1960’s air. You felt sick thinking about fighting barriers that you usually didn’t have to.

“Do girls swear a lot in the future?” He asked timidly, not wanting to upset you but also he was just very curious. He never heard ladies swear and especially not that word.

You snorted at how cute he was, “All the time. It’s normal for us. Trust me, if you are shocked by that you don’t want to imagine the crude things that are said daily..”

His thumb stopped rubbing circles on your hand and your heart faltered. He was probably used to obideint women who were dainty and didn’t outspeak too much. Women in this era were subservient and you could not be further from that. You had quite the mouth on you and your idea would not be oppressed. You graduated pretty high in your class. You were intelligent and political and that was mind blowing to men of this time. What if you were too much for him? You wouldn’t dare change but it would be heart breaking to know that your other half couldn’t take who you are as a person. As a woman.

“What you said about the cops.. what did they do wrong? I mean here they can be annoying but they try to be fair.” He asked, thumb rubbing your skin again. His eyes glanced down at your thighs and you blushed a bit, wishing you would’ve put on your sweatpants instead before leaving to go with the girls.

“If I explained it all, we would be sitting here for days. Long story short; African Americans still aren’t equal and they are murdered by cops at an unequal rate compared to the population size. Protests turned violent and the whole country is a mess. Half the country trusts cops and the other half wants the systematic corruption to be dismantled. Personally, I’m with the latter. So cops aren’t really my heroes. I try to avoid them. Of course my dad disagrees because he’s old fashioned and doesn’t get it, but what’s so hard to get about treating people equally. America’s supposed to be a melting pot so what’s with the racism and harsh divide? Guess the founding fathers only meant equality when it came to every white man- and that’s bullshit.”

You stopped rambling to see that soda was grinning from ear to ear at you. You gave him a questioning look. “Did I miss something?”

“You are wicked smart with politics. Wiser than anyone I know, prettier than anyone I know.”

~~~

Three weeks later you found yourself walking through the library with ponyboy, fingers grazing over every book you walked past. Books were little keys to jump inside different worlds. You wished you could find a book from 2020 that would magically transport you back. You found Soda, but at what price? You wanted to go home where you had control over your life. You were lost here.

“Any book recommendations? I’m sure you had to read a lot of these.” The youngest Curtis asked as you rounded the corner.

“Hmm, ever read any Tolkien books? Like The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings Trilogy?”

“No.”

“Awh, goodie, I get to be your mentor for this. Basically these are the best damn books that you will ever read. Bit lengthy but the detail is beautiful.”

He gently took the Hobbit in his hands, one gripping the back while the other flipped through the pages, examining how many there were before he tucked it under his arm, affirming that he would take a stab at it.

“What’s it about? Is it girly stuff- not that I mind really.”

Ponyboy was unlike the rest of the gang. He was a little softy that you wanted to hide from the world in order to protect him. The gang protected him physically but his feelings were usually punched, as much as Soda tried. Ponyboy felt things differently and deeply. He was in touch with literature and his life revolves around movies and books. You imagined how much he would adore the twentieth century with how much content there would be for him.

You crossed your arms and shifted your weight to one foot, “It’s a fantasy set up. So like elves, dwarves, hobbits, trolls, orcs, shapeshifters, magic, and I’m sure there’s more but my mind is blanking here. I promise it’s worth it. And I can explain as you read.”

“You’re a nerd?”

His innocent question made you laugh, “I guess you could say that, bud. Give it a shot and if you don’t like it, so be it,” you muttered this part to him, “although no one can resist middle earth’s charm.”

“What’s middle earth?”

“Where it takes place, it’s like another version of earth basically. But hey! You’re already so interested. Soon enough you’ll be wishing you were an elf slaying orcs too.” You joked, jabbing him in the side, “and if you say you wanna be a dwarf instead, you’re dead to me.”

He smiled, “what if I like the humans more? What then?”

“Then, I would consider you an absolute freak. Humans in this are like mediocre. Well, in the hobbit at least. Lord of the Rings they are more of a key part, but they’re so boring compared to the other cultures. Unless you like boring?” You raised an eyebrows at him.

“No, I ain’t boring. And I don’t like boring either.” He stubbornly said, walking side by side with you to go check your books out.

You grabbed a few random books that you wanted to check out. Soda worked and he refused to let you go anywhere alone, so you and Ponyboy just read a lot. It was summer vacation so he was outta school and had all the time in the world. You liked hanging out with the kid.

The two soc boys were standing by the counter when you guys got there. You huffed as the one winked at you. In that moment you wished you were legolas with a dagger and could gut him.

“Surprise seeing you here, considering I doubt you guys are literate.” You spoke, smiling at the librarian as you handed her the books.

“Surprise seeing you here with only the kid, we’ve heard you’re shaking up with Sodapop now. Looks like the greaser found his soulmate.”

The derogatory term aimed at Soda fueled your veins with rage. Blood rushed into your head at the idea that these guys thought they were above Soda, who was the kindest man you knew. Your heart told you to call them motherfucking cunts but your brain warmed you that it wasn’t a good choice. You glanced over and noticed that Pony looked as mad as you. If you retaliated, you wouldn’t get beat up but if he did, he would go home bloody while you trail behind him with a guilty face. You would give them a little talk.

You blew air out of your mouth before turning around to them, “Boys, I don’t know if you keep up with the news or not, but Vietnam is an ugly war filled with horrible people. Do you know what soldiers see? People being burned alive, dogs getting shot down, bombs obliterating people, women in villages getting raped, and most importantly you watch the men you grew to love die right before you.”

The two men stared at you wide eyed as you paused to grab the books from the librarian who was also now listeninf to you.

“Drafts are inevitable, and you know what? War doesn’t care who you are; greaser or soc. The enemy won’t stop to ask your financial stability before ending your life. The boys who you deem greasers could be the ones to save you from dying. Maybe try being nice because you never know who you will end up with on that field.”

Ponyboy’s mouth opened in shock when the two socs slowly back away and left without a single word. You hummed in victory before ushering the younger boy out of the building with you.

“Where did you hear those things? Darry keeps up with that stuff and I never heard nuthin like that.” Ponyboy asked after a few minutes.

You guys walked through the gate of the house but you halted before the steps, “A lot about the war is exposed after it ends. We learned about it in school. I used it against them as a wake up call. Try not to worry too much about it.”

Pony slowly nodded, “okay.”

The door opened and two-bit shuffled out the door with a beer can in his left hand, right hand wedged in his pocket.

“You guys are in trouble.” He sang as pony pushed him out of the way and walked into the house. Two-bit walked off the porch and turned to head home. He didn’t wanna be present for the yelling.

Soda and Darry’s heads snapped to the door and you held the books tighter to your chest to hide yourself. You two forgot to leave a note where you were going and now you were going to get scolded.

“Where the hell have you two been? It’s past 8:00.” Darry scolded, throwing down the newspaper that been in his hands.

You looked to Soda for help but even he shook his head to signal that he was just as upset. You handed the books to Pony before holding your hands up in surrender.

“Oh no, you caught us. We were at the library.” You joked, quickly knocking the smile off your face when the two older Curtis boys glared at you.

“Not funny. Anything could’ve happened to you.” Soda reprimanded. Your soulmate was always worried for you when he wasn’t around. He knew how horrible soc could be and they clearly had an interest in you. It was bad enough being away from you, but getting home to you and his kid brother not there made his nerves fly through the roof.

“Socs aren’t a worry when she’s around, trust me.” Pony mumbled, setting the books down on the table.

“Whats that mean? Did those socs bother you again, Y/N?” Soda suddenly was in front of you, checking your body for any cuts or bruises. You smacked his hands away.

“No, simmer down, I’m fine.” You said, offering him a reassuring smile.

“Then what happened!”

“She shut them down with her wit before they could even start. Those soc didn’t know how to respond so they turned around and walked right away.” Pony explained.

“What did you say?” Darry asked, slightly amused. He liked you very much and was glad that such an extraordinary woman was meant for his little brother.

You shared a look with pony to silently tell him to shut up about what you really said, “Nothing that’s important. What does matter is that Ponyboy got a bunch of books that he should be reading.”

He playfully rolled his eyes, “You want me to read so you can talk to me about elves.”

You nodded, “Well yeah, they’re the best part so get to it! Once you start you will love it.”

Ponyboy nodded before picking up the books and heading towards his shared room with Soda to begin reading. You smiled as you watch him go. You knew deep down that he was excited to read but didn’t want to make it seem like he was. He liked to taunt you with your taste in movies and books but you knew he really did agree.

“You baby him more than Soda does.” Darry stated, giving you a teasing glance.

“I don’t baby him.” Soda argued, glaring at his older brother.

“You do, Soda. Darry’s right though, I baby him a lot but I can’t help it. Pony’s a good kid that’s curious about the world. Reminds me of my best friend back home... I am sorry that we didn’t leave a note, we didn’t even think about it.” You admitted, grabbing Soda’s hand and intertwining it with his. He melted into your touch and you could tell that he wasn’t mad anymore. He couldn’t stay mad at you even if he tried.

“I know, I know. Just try to be more careful.” Darry softly spoke, “I’m headed to get a shower and go to bed. Don’t let Pony stay up too late.”

Soda muttered a yes and goodnight as you saluted Darry in a joking way, making the oldest Curtis smile and roll his eyes before going about his way.

As soon as the door was shut you were pulled into Soda’s arms, both wrapped tightly around your midsection as he nosed against your neck. You blushed as you wrapped your arms around him too, smelling the oil and dirt that came with working at the DX. It was an oddly comforting smell. Distinctly him. Your soul mark tingled as he left a soft kiss against the skin of your throat.

“You gave me a real fright, doll.” He softly spoke. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pulled you closer, his lips grazing your skin with his words, “ just worried when you’re not around, ‘m always thinking about you.”

“I didn’t know you thought about anything other than cars all day,” you poked.

He snorted, “yeah right. As if.”

“I’m so used to my independence that I forgot that here I need to let people know where I’m going.”

He pulled away slightly, “Did your parents not care about your safety?”

You snorted, “They did. Of course they did, but it was so easy to get ahold of them that I could just let them know while I was away. Plus once I turned 17 they stopped really caring what I did as long as I wasn’t doing anything sketchy. And I was always with my best friends.”

“Makes sense. Darry doesn’t care what I do if I’m with Steve...”

You pullled away and picked up one of the books to start reading it, “He should be the most concerned when you’re around that boy.”

You sat on the couch and held the book in your lap as you gave him a pointed look. He rolled his eyes. You and Steve sorta got along. He was nice and all to you, but he was a dick to ponyboy and that wasn’t appreciated. He walked to the kitchen to get a pop.

Minutes later he sat beside you on the couch, glancing down at the words splashed across the pages. He skim read but the book didn’t seem that great to him.

“Y/n?”

“Hmmm, soda?” When he didn’t reply you half way shut the book and turned to him, “what’s up?”

“Does it ever bother you that you’re so much smarter than me?”

Your heart burned at his question. Soda had a complex that he was stupid because he dropped out of high school. Everyone knew he did it because of his situation in which he tragically lived. Darry couldn’t do everything on his own and soda knew that. He sacrificed his future for the better of his small family. He wasn’t dumb.

“Education changes through years, so a lot of new material has been taught to me that you wouldn’t have known.”

He crossed his arms against his chest and slunk down in the cushion, “Come on, for real. Doesn’t it bother you that I’m a drop out?”

You set the book down and shifted so that your hands wrapped around his right bicep. You leaned your head on his shoulder. He didn’t look at you, instead he was staring holes into his bedroom door.

“Sometimes I feel like you should’ve been Ponyboy’s soulmate instead of mine.” He softly spoke, “He’s brilliant.”

“Oh my god, Soda. Can it. The universe wouldn’t send me decades back to find you if we weren’t meant to be. Not one part of me cares that you didn’t finish high school. You’re Soda. The smart man who takes care of his family. Does it bother you that I’m brainless when it comes to cars?”

Soda gave you a look like you were insane, “I don’t mind at all.”

“See, it doesn’t matter. I don’t see you as dumb and I wish you would stop seeing yourself that way too.”

Ponyboy walked into the living room, blonde hair messy as if he was playing with it. His cheeks were flushed from sitting under blankets and he looked a bit sleepy. Reading always made him a bit tired from how at peace he was, which was rare in his current life.

“Y/N, I don’t know how to feel about Bilbo. He seems good but he also seems a little selfish.” He said, eyes skimming along some of the words.

You smiled, “He’s a really pure character. You’ll grow to enjoy him. What part did you get to?”

Just like that Soda was in a better mood. Watching you speak so happily and effortlessly to his little brother about a book made his heart soar. Sometimes he felt like he couldn’t connect with Pony like he wanted to. And where he was lacking you were there to make up for it.

A few hours later Soda sweetly kissed you goodnight before retiring to his shared room with Pony. You snuggled into the couch with blankets wrapped around you.

~~~

Opening your eyes you saw that you were laying in your bed instead of the Curtis’ couch. Panic flood through your veins at the idea of returning home without the boys. Your heart was racing out of your chest as you looked at the decorations on your wall. A place that felt like your safest place was now a personal hell.

You wanted to return home but not without Soda, Pony, Darry, Two-bit and even Steve. God, you had to have been especially emo if you wished to see Steve more.

The idea of seeing Claire and Margo was beyond relieving but the pain of never seeing Soda again almost cancelled it out. Once again you would be the friend without a soulmate- without a better half. You sighed as angry tears slipped from your eyes. Why did the world have to fuck with you so much? You didn’t have a soulmate, found them in another decade, and then when you grew adapted to the times and people, Mother Earth ripped you back to your old life.

“Hun, why are you crying?” You heard Soda say. You tried to sit up to look for him but a firm arm was wrapped around your middle. Somehow you completely didn’t register that when you woke up.

You struggled to turn around and there he was. Beautiful Sodapop Curtis laying right beside you in your bed. In 2020. His hair was slightly shorter but his kind blue eyes were still the same. He was still the same handsome boy from the 1960’s.

A choked sob escaped your lips as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself as close as you could. Warm skin against yours assured yourself that he was real. This was real. Not some dream that your brain cruelly conjured you in attempt to calm you down.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He softly asked, a hand coming to rub up and down your back. His gesture only made more tears leak out of your eyes. You were so confused. Why wasn’t he freaking out too?

“I don’t know. Where’s Ponyboy and the guys?”

His hand faltered for a moment before he went back to comforting you, his lips pecked your forehead a few times, “They’re at home, probably asleep. Did you have a nightmare about them?”

Your mind was spiraling. Somehow the boys made it here too and soda seemed to not find this weird at all. He was acting like everything was normal.

“What year were you born?” You asked, clutching onto him, trying to remember what his skin felt like against yours.

“1999. Babe, tell me what’s going on. You’re starting to scare me here.” He lightly chuckled, adoring that you were clutching onto him as if he would disappear.

You didn’t know how to explain so you disguised it as a dream, “I had a weird dream, a really realistic one, that I was transported back to the 1960’s and I found you and the guys there. I can’t remember how we met now.”

You felt him shift slightly to get his arm free. He picked up his phone and the screen lit up. His lock screen was a picture of you two in front of a well taken care of old blue camaro.

“We met five months ago at a car show. You were with your grandpa, Claire, and Margo and I was with the boys. My mark burned when I accidently brushed your arm when I passed. We realized what was going on and we got this picture. We’ve been together since.” He recalled easily.

As he spoke, you could faintly see all of this happening in your point of view. How happy you felt when you saw him, the tingling of your mark, gushing internally at how attractive he was, you could even hear Margo cat calling in your head when you two got that picture.

Suddenly memories were dancing around in your brain. Getting Taco Bell together at midnight. Him joining your friend group to sit around the usual fire pit, him making you a s’more when you beg him even though you knew you didn’t have to ask more than once. Him building you the nice wooden shelf in your room that you put your weird Knick knacks on. Him laughing along when you scream “I will sacrifice my own life for Pakistan.” Going over for dinner and watching Lord of the Rings with pony boy.

“It’s all real.” You breathed out, “I’m sorry, that dream just really messed me up..”

He grinned down at you, his lips slowly drifting right above yours until they softly brushed together. Your soul mark tingled in utter delight. His arms slithered around your back as he moved on top of you, “I should be offended that you forgot about all of that, you know.”

You laughed, “Yeah... I’ll make it up to you by being nice to Steve for a whole day.”

He snorted, “wow, a whole day... that might kill you.”

You exaggeratedly nodded, “Honestly. He’s seriously the worst, soda.”

He boyishly smiled as he rolled off of you and stood up, grabbing his jeans and pulling them over his legs. He shoved his hands in each pocket to make them go in. He grabbed his plain black shirt and slid it over his shoulders and then head.

“I have to get home, Pony’s drivers test is in an hour and I’m the one to take him. He’ll for sure pass. I made sure of that. But tonight we will probably get cake to celebrate, the boys are all coming over. You’ll come, right?” He asked grabbing his hat and sliding it on his head.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

He winked at you once and leaned over the bed to give you a quick peck, “see you soon, pretty lady.”

You blushed, “see ya soon, handsome.”

He smiled softly before walking out the door. You laid there in the bed in disbelief. Your dream was too real to not be true but at the same time you recalled meeting him in 2020 too.

Either way you were thankful that soda was in the present with you because it was honestly the best of both worlds.

A strong breeze hit the house and your window popped open. A small scrap of paper floated in and landed on your dresser. Your hands smoothed they paper before reading it.

“Sometimes reality changes for people who deserve it.”

#sodapop curtis imagine #sodapop curtis #sodapop #sodapop imagine #outsiders imagine #soulmate au #soulmate imagine

149 notes · View notes

axther · 4 years

Text

black tie occasion (and other little things that make you fall in love)

prompt: slow dancing

bakugou katsuki x reader

rule number one of proms: there’s always a balcony

Dedicated to @heroinepose - finally, a good bakugou fic

Thanks to @add-a-teaspoon-of-heroism for giving the idea of a suit. Nish, your mind-

Thank you to @samanthaa-leanne for beta’ing for me!!

Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t much of a smiler, YN had concluded.

Sure, he smiled, but it was more the kind of smile that brought a chill into your bones, especially if you were at the receiving end of it. There were smiles that he had around his friends, but they were still guarded, still angry.

YN had made it her goal to see Bakugou smile, for real.

Truthfully speaking, she hadn’t known Bakugou for very long. She entered Class 1-B and saw him in intermediate periods. He was growly and big and angry, and yet, YN found him endearing. It went without saying that most of her class was confused, but YN let them stay confused. She went with what her heart said, and her heart said that the bundle of rage was more than he let on.

“A prom? What the hell?”

Speak of the devil.

YN paused mid-step from the lunchroom to glance over at the spiky blonde. Surrounding him was his posse, all powerful quirk users in their own rights. The red-haired one, Kirishima, patted Bakugou on the back.

“Wow! A real prom!” She giggled, linking arms with Mina.

“Don’t sweat it, bro! We can get some cute dates, have a nice night, and get some good food!”

“Aren’t proms an American thing…?” Sero murmured. “Why now?”

“I know!” Seemingly out of nowhere, Midoriya Izuku popped up with a nervous grin. His own group of friends were close by, and Ochako skipped to the info board with a smile.

“It’s to create a sense of unity. It’s for all the classes in the first year, and since there’s such a rivalry between the classes, Principal Nezu wanted everyone to have an evening together!” Midoriya listed it off like he was a dictionary, and YN titled her head.

“Something the matter?”

Shinsou’s voice came directly behind YN and she jumped with a squeak. Several heads turned (though not Bakugou’s notably) at her cry, and Shinsou chuckled.

“You looking at the board?” He hummed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. The strap of her bag was jostled. “Or at Bakugou?”

“None of the above,” YN huffed, turning away. “I was looking at the expanse between time and space.”

“What the hell?” His nose scrunched up a little, watching her walk away with sass. He shook his head before glancing over at Bakugou, who was absorbed in berating Kaminari over something. His eyes flicked from him to YN, who was nearly skipping down the hall. Shinsou placed his hands in his pockets.

“Huh.”

The next month has filled with a buzz, between students asking each other out and someone actually asking Midnight if she could be their date. It was a month of pure giddiness.

Except for YN.

No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the courage to ask Bakugou to the dance. She knew several other people had asked him and he had turned all of them down, spitting insults the entire way. With every rejection, fear crawled into her heart.

“Where’s all that lion-heart gusto?” Shinso told her on the Monday before the prom. “Weren’t you raring to go?”

“Oh, you hush.” YN sat at her usual lunch table, watching the rabid blonde growl and bark at his friends about something.

“Personally, I’m kinda glad.”

YN sat upright almost immediately, fury on her face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Shinsou laid back with his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He hummed. “I wanted to ask you. You’re my only girl friend, after all.”

YN’s brow went from furrowed to upturned, eyes wide and cheeks pink.

“Shinsou, you bastard. I thought you were saying that Bakugou and I weren’t a good fit!”

“You aren’t. He’s prideful. You’re calm.”

“Those two aren’t opposites!”

From across the room, Bakugou stopped yelling at Denki and watched YN playfully smack Shinsou’s shoulder. His eyes narrowed.

“Bro…” Kirishima whispered. “She isn’t gonna make the first move.”

“Shut the fuck up!” He barked, looking as though the whites of his eyes had dominated his entire demeanour.

“Ha!” Mina tittered. She leaned back with a wide smile. “The mighty Katsuki Bakugou, whipped like a little bitch.”

“I am not a little bitch!”

In the days leading up to the prom, YN was nervous.

She didn’t think she should’ve, considering she nailed a date with Shinsou (or, rather, he nailed a date with her) so all she had to do was get an outfit ready.

Unfortunately, her classmates weren’t much help.

She walked over a bit timidly, peeking past YN’s shoulder. “O-Oh!” She gasped. “It’s very pretty…!”

“Wear something sexy!” Setsuna cheered, holding up a short purple dress. “You’d look fine as hell in this!”

“No…” Ibara frowned, placing her hands together. “She must wear something modest that respects the Lord.”

“Wait!” Kendo gasped, holding two dresses that had already been rejected. “YN! What do you want to wear?”

“I dunno…” YN murmured, picking up the skirt a white dress that had apple accents on them. “Pony, you might like this one.”

YN pulled it off the rack and handed it to Pony, pointing to the changing room with a grin. “Go, and we see if you like it!”

“Mm!” She nodded. There was something unspoken about it, but Yui looked as though she wanted YN’s thoughts.

She trotted off happily and Yui walked up. She was holding a mid-length black dress.

“Do you like this one, Yui?” YN tilted her head.

“I think you’d look cute! Here, I’ll help the other girls pick something out, and we can have a mini runway show.”

“MM!” Yui smiled and skipped away. YN began picking at dresses to give to the others, walking from the rack when something in the clearance aisle caught her eye.

“Huh?”

“Yeah!” Kendo pulled off a crisp shirt that vaguely reminded YN of a mobster. “Why?”

She picked out a suit jacket, noting the orange hints with the pocket and cuff. She tilted her head and hummed.

“Oy!” She turned, looking at Kendo. “Do they have dress shirts over there?”

YN shrugged, hiding the jacket underneath some of the dresses. She walked over to Kendo and handed off a sporty blue dress, smiling. “Can you put the shirt on top?”

Kendo obliged, walking into a changing room. More dresses were passed around with the girls until everyone had something. Sassy compliments were thrown around (except for when Ibara dragged Setsuna for wearing something that clung to her).

YN sighed happily, running a thumb over the orange fabric. It reminded her of Bakugou, and she felt terrible for putting a guy she wasn’t even going with over matching with Shinsou, but…

She blushed, smiling.

“You look happy,” Komori leaned over YN’s shoulder. “Did you find something you like?”

“Yeah.” YN held up the suit jacket. “This. I don’t know if they have pants here, but I can make it work.”

YN paused in the changing room, still holding the shirt, pants, and jacket to her chest. She looked down and bit her lip a bit. She was going with Shinsou, and though she never even asked Bakugou, there was still a part of her that was convinced that she had a chance with Bakugou.

“Ooh!” Setsuna jumped a bit and ran off, leaving YN and Komori in the dust. Both looked confused until Setsuna ran back with loose black slacks. “Here! Try this!”

“It’s modest.” Ibara murmured. “And you would look good.” Even Pony stepped out and cheered YN on about the suit. Setsuna gently pushed YN into the changing room with a grin.

“Go on, girl! Work it!”

“Are you okay?” Komori’s voice leaked from the other side of the door. YN jumped a bit.

“Uh, yeah!” YN changed as fast as she could, tripping over herself in an effort to get into the pants. “Just a second.”

“Hot damn.” Setsuna whispered, eyeing YN up and down. “You look good.”

Once she adjusted the pants, she opened the door and stepped out, albeit ungracefully. The girls stopped talking immediately, staring. YN felt an embarrassed flush crawl under her skin.

“Hey, uh, I’ll pick something different out, gimmie a second-”

“Yeah!” Kendo cheered. “It really suits you!”

“Was that a pun?” YN gave Kendo a look.

“Get it!” Komori grinned. “Bakugou’ll drop dead!”

There were collective laughs and YN flushed.

“Ay!” YN rushed forward to mock-wack Setsuna and they took off across the store. Kendo watched them with a laugh as YN easily outran Setsuna, thanks to the pants.

“But I’m not-!”

“And?” Setsuna shrugged. “You’ll still see him.”

“Stop running.” Ibara frowned.

“Get over here!” Kendo took off after YN, and YN watched her go after Setsuna. She paused and panted a bit, grinning.

This weekend was going to be good.

At five-thirty on Saturday, YN stood next to Shinsou, standing outside the U.A. hall. There were scattered blue and yellow balloons on the ground from an arch over the door. Lights lit up the path to the door in an attempt to set a mood, but it seemed tackier than anything. There were flower petals, too, and YN wondered if maybe one of the more sentimental teachers was hoping to make it romantic. Other students lingered, too, talking quietly.

“Should we go in?” YN turned to Shinsou, wearing the white corsage he gave her in her pocket. He, too, wore a suit and had his corsage in the same style, but he was shorter than her and had to look up.

“Sure.” He shrugged. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands but settled for shoving them in his pockets. Part of YN felt guilty for the awkwardness, but accepted it and wrapped her arm over his shoulder.

“Then let’s go.” They walked down the path and she opened the doors, letting Shinsou go before her. The entire hall was dimly lit, with more blue and yellow balloons than necessary and a DJ at the back of the room, but YN supposed that it was some of the teachers just getting too excited with the idea of prom.

She saw Kendo wrangling Monoma by the punch bowl and Midoriya Izuku talking with Todoroki Shoto. They both nodded in Shinsou’s direction, and he nodded back, but turned to you.

“Alright. Where is he?”

“Huh?” YN stared at Shinsou dumbly. “What are you talking about?”

“Bakugou.” Shinsou looked both unamused and ready to laugh. “Do you see him?”

YN flushed and looked around. He was nowhere to be found just from glancing alone, and YN shrugged.

“I don’t see him. He might not have come.” A part of YN hoped he did, even if it was just to see him in a suit. She continued looking.

“Hm.” Shinsou huffed. “Fine then. Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

Before YN could ask what he meant, Shinsou disappeared into the crowd around them. YN could’ve sworn she saw a pair of pink arms pulling purple away, but before she could check, she got swept into the tide of newly arriving students. It was like swimming upstream, and she decided to just let herself be carried away.

Sorry, Shinsou, but I’ve got a plan.

She ended up shifting towards a more open area, facing out towards the main road and seeing several sappy teenagers make out with one another.

And there, at the edge of the balcony sat Bakugou Katsuki. The man of YN’s hour, if you will. She stared at him timidly, for a moment, before tilting her head.

Bakugou Katsuki swore up and down that he hated parties.

He went to bed strictly by nine, avoided alcohol if he could help it, and stayed away from questionable crowds.

So, why the fuck was he tipsy at eleven at night while Caramelldansen blasted over the speakers?

The answer was that Mina had dragged him to the school’s prom. He didn’t want to go, not after the mess that was him chickening out on asking YN. But the acid-user donned him in a suit with hints of orange and walked he through the doors. But around the time that they started playing Lil Jon’s Get Low, drink after drink was offered to the oh-so-famous winner of the sports festival and that one kid that got kidnapped, right?, and Bakugou accepted one, if only to get the crowd to shut up and leave him alone. But the drink was vaguely sweet, with hints of pink lemonade, and when he was offered another he was less adamant in rejecting them. He didn’t even know who even snuck in the drinks; just that they long left him for better horizons and consenting partners.

If Bakugou was being honest, then he didn’t like being tipsy. He wasn’t drunk enough to enjoy the feeling or do anything out of his comfort zone, but just inebriated enough that his balance was off, his sight felt a little bit weird, and it felt like everyone was talking about All Might.

He couldn’t tell if the lights were red or brown anymore, and he’d lost sight of Mina, when he heard someone gossip.

“I heard that the Bakugou dude...he’s why All Might retired, and he doesn’t even have a good attitude.”

It probably wasn’t meant for him to hear, or even exactly what he heard, but it felt like it was whispered directly into his ear. Shame flooded through Bakugou, and he felt every set of eyes in the room fall on him. His breath caught in his throat, and the lights blurred, and he waded through the sea of people, hoping to get just a second’s reprieve. He never thought he deserved it, but he still pursued it. Maybe that was how one could explain Bakugou; searching for what he never felt he deserved.

He stumbled onto a balcony, nearly shoving over two teenagers that were making out before clutching the balcony rail. The world spun, despite just how little alcohol he had, and he felt as though it was all closing in.

“Water?”

“Water?” She repeated again. “You look like you need it.”

Bakugou’s eyes snapped open, and he shot the nastiest glare he could muster at who spoke. It fell almost immediately when he realised who it was.

YN stood there with kind e/c eyes and eyeliner that could cut him. She had a red solo cup in her hand. She held it out to him but kept her distance like he was a feral dog.

Bakugou said nothing but turned all the way, choosing to remain cautious. Despite the bitter bile in the back of his throat, he hesitated.

“Why?” He croaked out and hated just how torn his voice sounded.

“Because you’ve been drinking” She extended the cup to him a bit more with a guarded smile. “And, you look like you need someone to listen.”

Bakugou’s face flushed angrily and a white-hot rage rushed through him.

“I don’t need a fucking therapist! Get out of my fucking face with that shit!” He snatched the cup out of her hand and she didn’t so much as flinch.

“You were crying.” Her smile fell, and if Bakugou wasn’t tipsy and angry, then he would have sworn that concern flashed through her eyes. Bakugou took a quick but hefty gulp of the water, feeling it go down his throat with subdued satisfaction before rearing back to yell at her more. Before he could, though, she raised her hand to his cheek. Her fingers were deathly cold, like what a corpse might feel like, but they were gone before he could complain about it. She held her fingers up to the swirling lights, and every time a strobe hit her hand, Bakugou could see the glistening of something wet on her fingers. Her eyes held something like pity, but it wasn't pity for him. It was just indomitable sadness.

She turned and began leaving as Bakugou stood there in shock. He didn’t feel himself crying or the typical runny nose, just the cold and sudden terror of loneliness. It carved him out like a pumpkin, and before he realised that he was moving, he had grabbed YN’s wrist. She glanced back in surprise, but it faded into a gentle look that, had it been any other person, would have made them melt. Bakugou stared between her wrist and her face, glancing up and down and back again in confusion before ripping his hand away. He held it like it had been burned, with a flushed face and blank confusion.

“Sorry,” He grumbled, letting his hand hang down again. YN didn’t leave but she was still turned. Bakugou could only stare as the lights backlit her, like a bomb, and there was a glint in her eyes that was neither pity nor judgement, but indomitable sadness. There was an oozing silence, until she tilted her head. For just a moment, he felt like he was being dissected by her eyes, scrutinised like roadkill, before the sadness returned.

“And they fuckin’ say it’s not my fault, but All Might would’ve never had to retire if I had just been strong enough!”

“Wanna talk?”

Somehow, be it the little alcohol in his system or the fact that YN just seemed so warm, he had begun spilling all his fears and burdens to her. She never spoke, besides the occasional hum of confirmation, but occasionally rubbed his back when he choked up. She would whip out tissues sometimes, but overall, she listened perfectly.

“I know that just being told that it isn’t your fault doesn’t help.” The girl murmured, staring through the short pillars of the balcony, taking a deep breath before continuing. “But I think it was a good thing that All Might retired.”

Bakugou felt his heart leap into his throat with rage, but before he could rip her apart, she side-eyed him and took another sigh.

“Don’t get me wrong. He did great work. But...he was in pain the entire time. Could you imagine the toll? Physically and mentally? That the world was on your shoulders, and you were slowly dying, but you weren’t able to just...stop.” She sighed for a third time, and for a moment, Bakugou wondered if she knew exactly what All Might felt like, with the stars in her eyes and sorrow on her shoulders. “His retirement would have happened eventually. You spared him months, maybe even years, of pain and torment. He went out, and nobody can ask him to come back, and now he can kick back and let someone else take over. And I think he deserves it. To be able to finally rest.”

Bakugou stared for what felt like the upteenth time that night, before feeling something else tense in his heart. It was like a knot had been wrapped around it, unbreakable and tight. But with only a minute, a girl that he only ever watched from a distance, at a party he never meant to attend, had undone it completely. It snapped, and if he thought about it enough, he could almost feel the cord hitting his ribcage and coming to rest on his kidney.

YN gave a teasing grin on his subdued, awestruck look, and hummed. She rose with a groan, stretching her arms in front of her with a yawn.

“There you have it. That’s just my opinion, anyway. You don’t have to take it.” Someone called out, and Bakugou couldn’t quite hear it, but YN turned. She waved, and then looked back at Bakugou. “Take care of yourself. Don’t let them get to you.”

She turned to leave, and she felt like this incomprehensible force that made everyone else move like the tide, or the Red Sea. Softer, kinder music leaked through from the dance floor, and he shot up.

“W-Wait!”

It was a demand and a question all wrapped in one and YN snorted, nodding.

YN stopped and turned with a tilt of her head. “Yeah?”

“Fucking-!” He was choking on his words, trying to literally grasp them from the air. “Fuckng dance with me!”

“Sure.”

She walked back to them and some of the other students left the balcony, abandoning them. Bakugou’s hands felt sweaty and he wiped them on his pants, heart pounding in his ears.

“D-D’ya know how to waltz?!” He barked, eyes flickering from nervousness.

“Yeah.” YN nodded. “I can lead.”

And she did, spinning Bakugou around under the stars in a moment that felt untouchable. Bakugou looked at her, and she looked at him, and at once, he felt at ease. Everything melted off of him for five minutes and fifty-two seconds, with her hands on his hip and holding him just tight enough that he knew she was real. The stars glittered in her eyes, and the breeze was warm and cool and perfect.

“I love you,” He whispered with wide eyes. She didn’t so much as flinch, pulling down into an Eskimo kiss.

“I love you, too.”

#I'm back!!#bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha bookclub #bnhabookclub bingo

172 notes · View notes

alphawave-writes · 4 years

Text

Clapback

Fuse/Caustic (GasGrenade? Fitznox? Dunno, I’ll use them both) SFW fanfic

Read it here or find on AO3 via this link.

Synopsis: Caustic decides to confront Fuse on a certain incident that occurred live on intergalactic waves involving Fuse's hand and his posterior.

—

Caustic is certainly not the guy to get his ass slapped. Caustic is certainly not the type of person to let people close enough to even slap his ass in the first place, but the games forces him to take a closer proximity to people. Relationships are confusing, messy diagrams of webs and chains and links, just as human bodies are, and it reminds Caustic why he never went into Genetics. Or, for that matter, why there are few who would dare approach him.

But Fuse is a special type of individual with all of the worst traits of the dumbest legends. He has the loud mouth of Mirage, the act-first-think-later attitude of Octane, and—on the rare occasion he gets serious—the wry snark of that pestiferous Crypto. It's no secret that Salvo is full of savages, which makes him a surprisingly capable teammate, so of course the producers of the Apex Games decide that for his very first game, he should be in a team with Caustic and Bloodhound. Of course he talks a big talk, but otherwise he has shown himself to be a capable individual on the battlefield. Unlike Crypto or Natalie or the countless other scientists he knew in the past, Caustic doesn't expect Fuse to be the kind to stab him in the back.

And then Fuse slaps Caustic's ass. Live. For all to see.

And with that, his carefully tailored public reputation, the persona of Caustic, it has all crumbled down to a few key words. Caustic: the man who's ass got slapped on intergalactic waves, and appeared to like it.

"Mate, it's just a cheeky thing the mates do to each other on Salvo. You're telling me you guys don't slap each other's ass after a game of footy or somethin'?"

"This is not Salvo," Caustic reminds Fuse for what must be the hundredth time. Internally, he has to remember to check up what 'footy' is. Probably Salvonian slang for something gruesome.

"Yeah, nah, I get that, doc, you don't have to remind me," Fuse sighs. "Look, even I admit I was tryna rile up the crowd, but I didn't mean to get you stuck in all this sh—mess."

At least the man has some common sense not to use such vulgar language around him. Quite frankly he finds such crude words indicative of low intelligence. "It does not matter what the crowd thinks," Caustic says, even though he knows that's a bit of a lie. "What matters is that you have put me in an uncompromising position."

"Well, I haven't got you to an uncompromising position yet," Fuse smirks.

Caustic glares at him. "I expect you to rectify this immediately."

"OK, OK, sheesh. Look, I'll let ya in on somethin', if you wanna let the whole thing slip away, you just gotta let it die first. Fighting fire with fire may work on the field, but it ain't gonna stop people from coming up with ideas. Trust me, the amount of people who thought I was shacking up with Mags—er, Maggie—of all people…" Fuse shivers. When Caustic doesn't look convinced, he adds, "I've got an interview coming up tomorrow. If it pops up, I'll just say it's a Salvo thing. If it doesn't, I ain't gonna say squat."

Caustic doesn't know if Fuse is more wily than he gives himself credit for, or if he is just as idiotically open as Caustic assumes him to be, but his first instinct is to trust Fuse will keep his word. It's a strange instinct for Caustic to have.

"Fine. But I expect you to not mock me anymore in the future."

"No prob, doc. Although if you don't mind an old fella saying something?"

Caustic just knows he's going to regret this.

"You do got a nice ass. Real girth to that thing," Fuse wolf whistles appreciatively as he not so surreptitiously glances at Caustic's behind. "Ditch the apron, and I bet that beauty could be an ordnance on its own."

"Fuse," Caustic growls.

"That's the name, don't wear it out," Fuse smirks.

With a surprising amount of speed, Caustic takes Fuse into a hold and shoved him to the wall. His voice is low, his hold absolute. Months and years in the Apex games have taught him many, many ways to kill and just as many to subdue.

"Oy, easy on the vest."

"What's your game?" Caustic hisses.

"Nngh. Let go of me!"

"Or what?"

Fuse tries to turn his head, his laidback expression transformed into something darker. Caustic does not disbelieve Fuse's claims of being a mercenary on the last, but he found his boast of being one of Salvo's best a stretch. But he's

"You wanna try me, Doc Nox?" Fuse grunts.

"How did you…?"

That second of surprise is all it takes for Fuse to slip out of Caustic's grasp and reverse the situation, pushing Caustic into the wall. It is now that Caustic sees he has miscalculated. He was too tight, put too much strength and effort to shove Fuse into the wall. The correct grip is a little bit lower, utilising not just hands but knees. Fuse's hold might seem more laidback compared to Caustic's attempt, but there is no doubt that Fuse has done this plenty more times before in the past. Despite his bigger size, Caustic doesn't imagine he will slip out quite so easily unless Fuse allows him to.

So there are hidden depths to this man after all. A fascinating test subject for the future, to be sure.

"Don't think I didn't do my research before comin' here. I gave it all up to be here, and I don't go all in without knowing the stakes. Had a client of mine try ask me to track you down. Said that ain't my style, but I remembered. And when you stay a merc at my age," he taps his skull with his metal hand, "you tend to remember things."

Caustic grunts. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"We all know being in the Apex games protects you, and you know what? It's the same for me, mate. You play up the cameras, kill and get killed over and over again for entertainment, and if they like you, you get to live another day. And I also know once people know who the mysterious doc Caustic is, they ain't gonna risk letting you kick about and murk up the Apex bloody games."

"Then blackmail me. Kill me," Caustic hisses.

"Believe me, if I were hired to, I will. But since I'm not…" Fuse lets go of Caustic. He takes a step back, his light fingers drifting away from Caustic’s clothed limbs. The move is casual but done deliberately. A lot of what Fuse does and says, Caustic realises, is deliberate. Whether it's the result he wants is a secondary concern.

Caustic turns to Fuse and stares. "I do not know if you're idiotic or moronic to let me go without some form of payment."

Fuse sighs. "Doc, this ain't the games and this ain't Salvo. You said that, right? Ain't gonna spill your secret because I feel petty or nothing. We both want to be here, and we'll do our bloody hardest to stay here. You wanna take it out on me, take it out on the ring." His lips curl into a smirk. "I'm also more than happy to take it out in the bedroom, if that's your thing."

Caustic bristles. He's no imbecile, he knows when he is being propositioned, but he is not playing that game. Not with a man he barely knows. "You still want something from me. Tell me now."

"Well, if you really want to buy my silence," Fuse allows a small smile, "how about a drink sometime? You, me, couple bottles of beer, bit of classical music. Get to know each other better."

There is a lot to decipher with that sentence. A lot. But of all the the things Caustic can possibly address, "Classical music?"

"You know, Acca Dacca, INXS, Tame Impala. The real classics, not like that stuffy ones, ey?"

Caustic stifles a groan. "When you say classical music, I was expecting Mozart. Beethoven."

"Would you accept if I did that kinda classical music?" Fuse crosses his arms and leans just a bit too close to Caustic.

"Typical Salvonian," Caustic mutters under his breath. Always so forward. Always think they can take whatever they want.

"Ain't an answer, mate," Fuse says.

It's data. Possibly useful data from a new test subject. That's what he's going to tell himself. "One drink, at a venue of my choice. I can and will leave at any time I choose."

"Deal. Tomorrow at 8 alright?"

"Fine."

"Cool. Then I'll see ya later, darl." Before Caustic can react, Fuse gives another firm slap to Caustic's ass and quickly walks away without another word, disappearing down the hallway.

As Caustic watches Fuse walk away, hand on his ass and equations ringing through his head, he begins to suspect that he might have bit off more than he can chew. He takes out his notepad, which he uses to write notes on the go, and flips over to the latest page.

8pm 12th February. Meet up with subject Walter 'Fuse' Fitzroy for alcoholic beverages and music. Objective: obtain data on subject. Ascertain weaknesses and strengths. Assess whether to team up with for future battles.

Note to self: bring padded pants and lotion.

#Apex Legends #apex caustic #apex fuse #walter fitzroy #GasGrenade #Fitznox #It's small and it's silly but it was fun exploring Fuse's personality #I literally based him on this guy I know at work #Ben if you're reading this (I know you're not but still) I apologise in advance

28 notes · View notes

thanksjro · 4 years

Text

Dark Cybertron Chapter 5: the Issue that Made Me Stop Reading MTMTE for Three Years

So, Megatron’s still getting space-bridged in the torso. That’s still happening. Nova Prime and Galvatron are coming through the rift, as Shockwave, who seems to have lost most of the mass in his lower body, thanks Megatron for his service.

Robert Gill’s on art for this issue alongside Ramondelli, and this is basically the only place we’ll be getting a taste of his style. Let’s see what he’s bringing to the table.

JESUS CHRIST.

WHY DO YOU HAVE GUMS.

Nightmare Murder Death Ravage, the Decepticons, and the Autobots just broke into Shockwave’s underground lair, and are ready to kick some ass. Shockwave was expecting this to happen, because he is a very smart boy, and also apparently genre savvy. Soundwave tackles Shockwave to the ground, and gets insulted for his troubles.

Sir, your eye's been turned into a silver-dollar pancake.

Shockwave calls in Metalhawk to handle these goons who’ve broken into his domicile, and Metalhawk, who legitimately looks like he’d snap in half if the breeze blew the wrong way, gets to work. Bumblebee tries to reason with the man- ripping off his whole-ass face to reveal... his face... in the process- but it’s useless. Metalhawk is just too het up about politics.

Over in another part of the room, Ironhide and a couple of buddies are going to lay the smackdown on Nova Prime and Galvatron, who are still coming out of the space bridge. They’ve been at this for like ten minutes now. Ironhide starts trying to shove Nova Prime back through the bridge, punching him in the face as he does. Megatron, at this point, has lost his arms. They’ve simply disappeared from the scene at hand.

The art isn’t great this issue, if you couldn’t already tell.

While this is happening, Skywarp is busy messing with the medical equipment Megatron’s hooked up to, and losing his corporeal form, because that death wave from a couple issues back did, in fact, hit him a little.

This is the Rattrap issue, by the way.

Over with Arcee, it would seem as though we’ve given up on even pretending to give a shit about size continuity, as Rumble and Blitzwing are the same height now. These three are on a mission to grab some of the resurrection ore and bring it back to base for the wounded, which is nice of them.

Shockwave shoots Soundwave, then calls Waspinator over, as Skywarp sticks his little hands into the ore that’s growing out of the walls. This makes him better, I guess? Because it’s resurrection ore? Even though he’s not dead? Also, his mouth looks like it’s full of wood pulp, and I don’t like it.

Bumblebee is trying to make a breakthrough with Metalhawk, but there’s no time for that, as Shockwave’s up to some weird nonsense involving Nova Prime.

The same could be said of this entire comic event.

Waspinator meets up with Shockwave and hands him his “staff”. I use quotations because it super isn’t a staff, but that’s what it’s called in-issue. What it actually is… well, it looks like a gun with a stinger for a barrel. I know he had a gun that looks very similar in Beast Wars, and he whipped it out on the regular, but I guess it’s a staff now? A staff that isn’t even remotely a staff? TFWiki makes the claim that it’s his stinger, which makes way more sense, but I don’t know that I’d want to hand the rump roast portion of my own ass to the purple science gremlin, even if it did mean cool stuff was going to happen.

Look, I don’t know, okay? I think someone fucked up the script.

Shockwave pops off his gun hand and attaches the “staff”, claiming to know how to handle the Titan way better than Waspinator ever could, because he’s just that smart. Then the Titan comes to life and bursts through the ground. Ironhide, who is still straddling Megatron as he punches Nova Prime into submission, gets his shop wrecked by a giant fist.

Meanwhile, in the Dead Universe, we’re finally getting back to that whole Nightbeat thing. Everyone is very surprised to find him here, and sort-of, maybe alive? Dead Universe complicates things.

Back in Spotlight: Hardhead, Hardhead and Nightbeat went on an adventure together to Gorlam Prime, trying to figure out what the hell had happened to Nightbeat’s brain in Spotlight: Nightbeat, where he was brainwashed into being a sleeper agent for Nova Prime, who was still in the Dead Universe at the time, and are you beginning to see why I sort of just gave up on following the plot and stopped reading? You have to have read essentially all of Phase 1 for any of this to make sense. Between that and the art, I was just sort of over the whole thing.

Anyway, Hardhead had to shoot Nightbeat in the head after the dude got his… brain taken over. There were some little tiny guys involved, Jhiaxus was there, it was weird. Because Nightbeat died at the edge of a portal to the Dead Universe, it took his body and dragged him inside, both trapping him and keeping him alive.

Rodimus isn’t too keen on this turn of events, and Hardhead feels really awkward about the whole thing. Nightbeat seems to be taking being an off-brand zombie in stride though, as he immediately makes himself a nuisance to Cyclonus, by way of cold-reading the guy. Because he’s a detective, he’s pretty good at it.

Nightbeat, you fool! It’ll be another 22 issues before Cyclonus is ready to even acknowledge his feelings!

Orion Pax breaks it up before we can see what Cyclonus considers a good punishment for putting him through the ordeal of being known, and we finally get back on track.

Back on Cybertron, I guess there’s been a bit of a time skip, as Megatron is back on his feet and carrying Ironhide to safety. Also, his mouth has gone AWOL. He tries to ask Bumblebee what the plan is, only to be interrupted by Galvatron ripping him in half.

God, I wish you hadn’t found your mouth, Megatron. This is awful.

Galvatron throws Megatron on the ground, and things just keep getting better, because now the Titan’s up on its feet, and Shockwave just told it to go ham.

Back in the Dead Universe, things are getting complicated, and I don’t think we’ll be getting answers any time soon.

Oh, well, I’m glad Nightbeat is as lost on this whole thing as I am.

Hardhead wants to know what was up with all that cryptic bullshit Nightbeat was spouting off earlier, and Nightbeat reveals even more details about Cyclonus- his forcefield generator was damaged when they got to the Dead Universe, and now he’s infected with… I dunno, bad vibes, I guess. That’s why he got sick a couple issues back, and also why the Cyberwraiths ran away from him; the Dead Universe is assimilating him back into its fold.

Even though it’s been established to want literally everything inside it dead.

Though Cyclonus did spend six million years hanging out in the Dead Universe, so maybe it’s fine, actually.

You know, truth be told, I’m not sure exactly how it works, and neither does anyone else, it would seem.

Anyway, Nightbeat tells the fellas to hold tight while he goes to grab somethingaaaaand he’s trapped them in a magic box.

Ugh, whatever, Orion.

Turns out getting shot didn’t fix Nightbeat’s sleeper agent issue, and now the boys are going to pay for being so chatty.

And that’s a series wrap on Team -Imus! Let’s give ‘em a hand, folks!

At this point, Nova Prime reveals that he did, in fact, get shoved back through the space bridge, and is still in the Dead Universe. Sucks to be him, I guess.

...Man, this Rattrap issue was great! Loved the part where he was in it.

#transformers #jro #dark cybertron #issue 5 #rid #exrid #issue 24 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

93 notes · View notes

foreverwayward · 4 years

Text

“Wayward Hearts” Season 4 Chapter 4: In the Beginning

Summary: With Dean back from Hell, new questions bring new revelations. The hunters will begin to doubt everything they know, and will be tested in unimaginable ways as the eyes of Heaven fall on them. And as truths are revealed, the very fabric of their family may unravel in their wake. The question is, will Sam, Dean, and Riley be ready to take a leap of faith?

MASTERLIST

Word Count: 13,610 (damn)

Warnings: Language, violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

It was still in the dark motel room, the soft sounds of crickets chirped through the thinly paned window. Dean’s arms were wrapped around Riley as she laid peacefully curled up to his side. Her head rested on his chest, her hand over his steady beating heart. Blissful and much needed sleep had finally found them.

The room was always so much more still without Finn around. But it gave Riley peace to know that he was safe back at Missouri’s once more.

As Sam grabbed his jacket, he hesitated with a pensive expression. His heart weighed heavy in his chest knowing the secrets he was keeping from the people he loved the most. And yet, it changed nothing.

Sam looked back to his sleeping siblings before quietly moving for the door. He turned the knob, watching for movement from the bed before slipping out into the darkness.

A groggy Dean hummed in his chest as he repositioned himself in his sleep, unconsciously pulling Riley closer to him.

Outside, the motel lights kept that dark night at bay as Sam made his way around the building.

A car purred in his direction, stopping at his side. He got into the passenger’s side without a word as the glow from the streetlamp lit up the driver’s face.

It was Ruby.

“Ready?” the demon asked.

With a soft fire in his eyes and determination on his face, he replied, “definitely.”

Ruby shifted the car back into drive and pulled out of the parking lot as the two disappeared into the night.

Back inside the motel room, Dean began to twitch in his sleep. Sweat beads began to build at his forehead as the muscles of his face scrunched as if he were in pain.

Flashes of Hell ripped through Dean’s dreams. The memories of his face and body covered in blood, his aching muscles failing to hold on, his screams echoing into nothingness as the unbearable agony tortured his broken soul.

Dean’s eyes opened wide as he gasped softly.

At that same moment, Riley shot up from her sleep, just as terrified and shaken as Dean was, though she didn’t understand why.

She turned to him and planted her hand firmly on his chest as she stared up at him. “...are you alright?” Riley asked as her voice trembled.

Dean swallowed hard, trying his best to keep the nightmares and memories that plagued him away from the woman he loved. “Yeah,” he answered in a gruff tone. “Yeah, uh--bad dream, I guess.”

“You’ve only been back a week, Dean…” Riley told him in a soothing, hushed voice. “Give it time.” She brushed her hand over his bed-hair. Riley couldn’t heal Dean from whatever had happened to him while he was gone, but she wasn’t about to let him do it alone.

Before he could respond to her, a husky voice came from beside the bed.

“Hello, Dean.”

The couple practically jumped as they turned in its direction.

There stood the angel Castiel. His gaze fell on Riley with a nod of acknowledgement. “Riley.”

Dean and Riley sighed as their nerves calmed and they sat up.

Annoyed, Dean asked, “what, you get your rocks off by watching other people sleep?”

“What is it, Castiel?” Riley blinked purposefully, trying to fully wake herself.

“Listen to me,” Castiel told them. His eyes were heavy with worry. “You have to stop it.”

With his brow scrunched with both fatigue and confusion, Dean made eye contact with Riley before questioning Castiel. “Stop what?”

The angel didn’t answer as he reached up both of his hands to place two fingers on each of the hunters’ foreheads.

------

Both Riley and Dean were sound asleep on a street bench. Their heads rested on each other with their bodies slightly slumped in exhaustion.

Loud tapping then suddenly stirred the couple from their sleep.

“Move it kids.”

Birds chirped and the midday sun shined down on the small town street. The two peered up with tired eyes at the voice that loomed above..

A police officer was staring down at them. “Move it, you two--you can't sleep here.”

Dazed and out of sorts, Dean asked, “okay...sleep...where?”

“Anywhere but here.” With nothing left to say, the officer continued on his way.

Riley ran a hand through her hair as she looked around. “What--how...where are we?”

“I don’t know.” Dean reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. As he flipped it open, the screen warned that no signal was found. “Perfect,” he muttered. “You got anything?”

Taking out her own phone, Riley sighed and showed Dean her screen. “Nada.”

Still rattled and uncertain, Dean looked around before spotting a diner across the street. “Come on.” Dean led the way with Riley in tow before opening the diner door for her.

The bell jingled as the hunters walked inside. It didn’t look much different from any of their regular pit stops on the road.

The jukebox in the corner was playing the Allman Brothers Band ‘Ramblin’ Man’. Riley didn’t even catch herself as she began to softly mouth the lyrics.

Moving on, they walked over to the counter to find open barstools. Riley and Dean were silent, still somewhat regaining their composure.

A young man was sitting quietly near Dean, reading the newspaper that laid in front of him.

“Hey, buddy,” Dean grumbled. “Where the hell are we?”

The stranger turned to him. He had dark, shorter hair with a strong jawline and kind eyes. “Jay Bird's Diner,” he answered with a hint of perplexity at the question before returning to his reading.

“Yeah, thanks. I mean, uh--city and state.”

With a soft chuckle, the man looked back at Dean thinking he was out of his mind. “Lawrence, Kansas.”

Riley practically did a double take. “I’m sorry, did you say ‘Lawrence’?”

“Fuckin’ angel,” Dean muttered under his breath.

Lowering her voice, she leaned in close to him. “What the hell are we doing in Lawrence, Dean?”

“Does this look like a face ‘in the know’?” he asked in a snarky tone as he pointed to his expression.

The gentleman looked at the two quizzically. “Hey, you two okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean told him as he put his face into his hand and sighed. After a second to himself, Dean could only reply, “tough night.”

He signaled to the waiter with a nod. “Hey, uh--two coffees here, Reg.”

Pulling the phone from his pocket once more, Dean showed it to the stranger at the counter. “Can you tell me where I can get reception on this thing?”

“The USS Enterprise?” the man scoffed with a smirk.

The waiter came over with two coffees in hand. He was dressed in 1970’s hippie-style clothing. His full mustache went down to the sides of his mouth and he wore a painfully patterned shirt, large glasses, and a fur vest.

Both Dean and Riley studied him with curiosity.

Dean brought his hot cup to his lips. Unable to keep his comments to himself, Dean teased,

“Thanks...nice threads. You know Sonny and Cher broke up, right?”

Snickering into her coffee, Riley sipped at the warm liquid. But both men at the counter exchanged a confused, almost shocked look.

“Sonny and Cher broke up?” the stranger asked with worry.

The counter went quiet as neither the two men or the hunters knew what to say in that awkward moment.

Riley and Dean met the other’s gaze with wide eyes before turning to look around the diner. All of the customers and waitresses are dressed in 70’s style clothing.

Once they peered back at each other again, the two mouthed in unison, “what the fuck?”

Riley pointed to the paper on the counter, asking Dean to peer over as she did the same. The headline read: ‘Nixon accepts resignation of top…’ with the date marked Monday, April 30th, 1973.

Trying to hide her sense of utter shock, Riley gripped Dean’s thigh under the counter, her eyes wide.

“Hey, Winchester.” An older man called out as he entered the front door. Both Dean and the stranger beside him turned to see a silver-haired gentlemen walking their direction with a massive grin. He took the hand of the kind man beside Dean and shook it happily. “Son of a bitch. How you doing, Corporal?”

“Hey, Mr. D.,” he replied with a friendly smile.

“I heard you were back.”

“Yeah, a little while now.”

The two men continued their conversation as Riley honed in on them.

Dean leaned in close, once more. “You picking something up?”

“I dunno,” she said with a click of her tongue. “But that guy seems so familiar…” Suddenly, the realization dawned on her and Riley’s face fell in shock. “Oh...my god.”

As the pleasantries between the two friends ended, the older gentleman pat the young man’s shoulder. “Good to have you home, John--damn good.” Mr. D then turned away to go towards his own table.

Coming to the same conclusion that Riley had, Dean’s focus became fixated on the man beside him. His brow was scrunched, his mouth slightly open in disbelief.

“Dad?” he questioned under his breath.

As John began to get back to his reading, he couldn’t help but see Dean and Riley staring back at him. It went quiet as the hunters sat stunned. “Do we know each other?”

Trying to compose himself, Dean tried to swallow his emotions. “I guess not,” he told him meekly.

As much as Dean had been keeping Riley from his thoughts, there were some feelings he just couldn’t hide. It was obvious to her how profound that moment was for Dean in seeing his father again. He was filled with such sorrow, confusion, and heartache; though there was a glimmer of joy that radiated from him.

The intensity of it all suddenly flooded Riley and she sighed. Trying to discreetly comfort Dean, she reached out to brush her fingers over his hand, lovingly.

John stood as he placed cash on the countertop. “Take it easy,” he said to them both before beginning to walk away.

All Dean could do was nod as he sipped his coffee. No words would do any justice.

Once at the door, John stopped and turned back to the hunters. And while Dean tried to grapple with the thoughts that raced through his head, Riley just looked back at John.

The two met eyes and he forced a smile before leaving out the door.

Dean didn’t say anything as he got up to follow John and Riley quickly joined him.

As they walked down the sidewalk, the two tried to remain inconspicuous, staying several yards behind John. Wherever he was going, they were going too.

At the end of the block, John turned a corner to go down a back alley. But as Dean and Riley reared the same edge of the building, they were stopped in their tracks when they saw Castiel standing in their way.

With a heavy and anxious breath, Dean asked the angel, “what the fuck is this?”

“What does it look like?” he retorted.

Riley gave him an exasperated shrug with her hands still in her pockets. “Well, it looks like we’re back in Kansas, Dorothy.”

“Is it real?” Dean couldn’t hide the nervous tremble in his voice.

Just as plain and stoic as he had been from the beginning, Castiel just stared back at him. “Very.”

“Okay, so what? Angels got their hands on some DeLoreans? How did we get here?”

“Time is fluid, Dean. It's not easy, but we can bend it on occasion.”

“Well bend it back or tell me what the hell we’re doing here!”

“I told you...you have to stop it.”

Exasperated with his vague answers, Riley jumped back in. “Stop what? Are we here to help John? Is something after him?”

A car horn blared behind them and the hunters turned to the sound. When they spun back around, Castiel had vanished.

Dean groaned. “Oh, come on! What, are you allergic to straight answers, you son of a bitch?!”

------

After searching the town, Riley and Dean finally found John. He was at a used car dealership talking to the salesman about a beige 1960’s Volkswagen van.

Riley grimaced. “I’m sorry, is John Winchester about to buy a van?”

With a grin that covered his face, Dean said, “oh, absolutely not.”

As he began to walk away, Riley noticed where he was headed and smirked as he leaned against the hood of a beautiful, black Chevy Impala.

Once the salesman left to gather the paperwork, John studied his new ride, knowing that it would be the first car for his new family. He grinned at the thought.

“That's not the one you want.”

Turning to the newly familiar voice, John saw Dean and Riley next to the car that would change all of their lives forever.

“You following me?” John asked.

“No, no, we were just passing by. We just never got to thank you for that cup of coffee this morning. I was a little out of it.”

He teased, “more than a little.”

“Let me repay the favor.” Dean tapped on the hood of the Impala with his knuckles. “This is the one you want.”

“Oh yeah? You know something about cars?”

Dean nodded his head. “Yeah...yeah, my dad taught me everything I know.” He grew nostalgic at the memories of him as a child when John would show him how to care for the beloved car. It was one of the rare moments where John didn’t yell or make Dean feel like he had somehow disappointed him. When they worked on the Impala together, they weren’t hunters, they were just father and son.

“He’s right,” Riley told him with a sweet smile. “This is a great car. Come check this out.”

As she opened the hood of the Chevy to expose the engine, John and Dean joined her at the side of the car.

“This baby’s got a 347 four barrel, 275 horsepower...I mean, if you give her a little love, she’s perfect.”

Dean couldn’t help his smirk. Hearing Riley talk about cars always brought a smile to his face. But hearing her talk about Baby reminded him of how much she truly belonged in their family.

With a surprised scoff, John looked over to Riley. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a woman talk about cars like that.”

“Well, I’ve been told I’m a bit of an enigma.” Giving Dean a small wink, she then turned back to John. “Anyways, trust us...this is the car you want.”

“You know,” John grinned. “You're right.”

Dean nodded over his shoulder at the van. “Then what are you buying that thing for?”

“I kinda promised someone I would.”

“Over a '67 Chevy?” he asked with a disbelieving chuckle. “I mean, come on. This is the car of a lifetime. Trust me, this thing's still gonna be badass when it's 40.” Again, Dean eyed the beautiful car and felt a swell in his chest.

Happy to have met the kind strangers, John reached out a hand. “John Winchester. Thanks.”

Dean took his hand in his and shared his greeting. “Dean...Van Halen--and thank you.”

Riley tried to contain her giggle and bit her lip, “Riley Munroe,” she told John as she too extended a hand.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Suddenly, Riley froze. Her heart felt as though it had stopped beating, the air sucked from her lungs. Riley’s knees felt as though they would collapse beneath her and her mouth dropped a little in shock as her eyes shared the same expression.

“Rye…?” Dean asked, noticing the change in her demeanor.

He looked in the direction of whatever had caught her attention and was completely taken back when he saw a young Jackson Munroe walk out of the back of the dealership. He was in a dark blue jumpsuit as he wiped oil from his dirty hands onto a small cloth.

Whispering under her breath, she uttered, “oh, my god…”

Puzzled, John questioned, “is...everything alright?”

Without another word, Riley immediately began to hurry over in her father’s direction as she disappeared behind the main building. And though Dean was desperate to go with her, he wasn’t ready to leave John.

Around the back of the main building, Riley panted as she scanned around her. When her eyes finally landed on Jackson sitting on a bench, enjoying a quick break, she swallowed hard.

Everything inside her wanted to run to him. Her heart ached to hold him and never let him go, but she knew she couldn’t.

Riley took a deep breath and exhaled her nerves as she tried to steady her trembling hands. As she neared Jack, she stopped only feet away.

When he noticed her, he squinted in the sunlight. “Hello.”

“Hi…”

Riley couldn’t help but study him. She always thought her father was handsome, but seeing him in his prime practically made her beam. He was alive and well, his youth still glowing from him without years of hunting aging his soul. It was enough to make her head swim.

“I’m sorry, miss. Is there something I can help you with?”

Dumbfounded and at a loss for what to say, she stumbled over her words. “I, uh--I was just--um...looking for the, uh--restroom.”

“Uh--” Jack turned around and pointed to the back entrance of the building. “Just go in, make a left and it’ll be the first door on your right.”

She paused before responding. “Okay, thanks.”

Riley went to walk away but spun back around, unable to leave him just yet.

“Was there something else, miss?” His tone was smooth like velvet and gentle--just like she remembered.

“It’s just--you remind me of someone.”

“Oh? Well, I hope that’s a compliment,” Jackson chuckled.

“It is…” she smiled.

He looked at her with a similar expression. “You know, funnily enough, you actually remind me of someone too. I can’t quite place it though.” Jackson leaned forward, intrigued by the young woman. “Why do I feel like I know you?”

“Guess I must just have one of those faces.” Unable to help herself, she reached out her hand. “I’m Riley.”

Jack smirked as he shook her hand. “Jackson.”

Suddenly, a rush of connection blew through them like a current at their touch. There was an overwhelmingly powerful bond between them. Both their eyes slightly went wide at the sensation, unable to verbalize what they had just felt.

Flashes of memories washed through Riley like the coming tide. Images of love and laughter, of her childhood, and of their final moments together came to life as if she had lived them all once more with her hand in his.

“Are you--are you sure I don’t know you,” Jackson asked, looking at her with a sense of familiarity.

Pulling herself from the both beautiful and painful memories, she cleared her throat. “Yeah,” she said through an anxious, breathy chuckle, still trying not to show her heartache. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

As much as Riley wanted to stay with him as long as she could, she knew that Castiel had sent them back for a reason. Why she and Dean were there needed to be her focus and it tore at her gut knowing she had to go. “Well...I, uh--guess I should get going.”

“Sure thing. It was nice to meet you Riley.”

“Yeah...you too.”

When she turned to leave, Jack called out, “hey!” and Riley looked back at him. “That’s a great jacket by the way.”

“Thanks…” She gave a soft smile at his words. “My, uh--my dad gave it to me.”

“Well, the man has good taste.”

She nodded in response with a tight smile and went around the corner as quick as she could. Riley leaned against the wall as tears she had held back instantly spilled down her cheeks. As she began to sob, she covered her mouth, trying to stifle her cries. It took every ounce of strength in her to try to pull herself together.

Riley then looked in the window of a nearby car to see her reflection. She sniffled her emotions back and took a forced, deep breath. With her shaking fingers, she wiped away the tears under her eyes and tried her best to remove any traces of her pain.

As she found her way back to Dean and John, Dean shot her a concerned look. When his expression asked without words if she was alright, she just nodded.

Dean then somewhat reluctantly went back to his conversation with John. “So, uh--sorry about how weird I was this morning. Ya know, I've been hung over before but, hey--I was getting chills in that diner. You didn't feel any of those cold spots, did you?”

Looking back up from examining the car’s interior, still giddy with his decision to buy it, John answered, “nope.”

Riley stared off into the distance, lost in thought as Dean went on.

“I swore I smelled something weird too, you know? Like... like rotten eggs. You didn't happen to smell any sulfur by chance?”

“No.” John was growing more and more unsure of his new acquaintance.

Knowing Dean was about to blow their cover, Riley nudged him. “Dean,” she whispered. “Ixnay…”

But Dean still didn’t seem to know when to quit. “There been any cattle mutilations in town recently?”

“Okay, mister! Stop it,” John told him firmly.

When Riley gave him wide eyes, Dean muttered under his breath, “yeah, if only I knew what to stop.” He finally conceded. “Listen, uh--watch out for yourself, okay?”

John just eyed him uncomfortably. “Yeah, sure.”

Patting the beloved Impala’s hood once more, Dean turned to leave with Riley at his side.

“Think you could have freaked him out a little more, Dean?” she questioned.

“I know, I know,” he told her as they crossed the street. “But it’s not like ‘traveling back in time and seeing your dead father’ was in the manual or anything, Rye.” Dean instantly realized he had been so wrapped up in his encounter with John that he had yet to ask about Jackson. “Speaking of which…”

Riley shook her head, forcing a stoic expression. “Doesn’t matter. Right now? We gotta make sure nothing happens to John.”

The two looked back around to face the dealership once more to see John seal the deal for the car as he shook hands with the salesman in front of the Chevy.

------

After tailing John the rest of the day in a stolen car, Riley and Dean found themselves driving up a familiar road. The anxiety that Riley felt in the pit of her stomach made her left leg bounce as she nibbled at her nails.

Dean knew where John was headed as they watched him pull into the parking lot in his newly acquired Impala.

Once John had gotten out of the car, he hurried to the other side to open the door for a young blonde woman. He beamed as she took his hand and they went inside.

The two hunters just stared at the building, unsure of what to do.

It wasn’t how Riley remembered it. But as she stood to get out of the car, her eyes remained set on the diner--the diner she had grown up in and the only place she ever called home.

As she studied it all, Riley tried to grapple with the fact that the last time she had stood in that lot was the night of the fire. The aesthetics were different and the small restaurant was called ‘The Diner’s Club’, but memories came back to life and she shuddered at their presence. Riley could have sworn she could still smell the embers.

Dean went over to her with his gaze locked on the small diner as well. “You gonna be okay, sweetheart?”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Riley told him as she led the way up to the side of the restaurant.

Peering inside, careful not to be noticed, their eyes immediately went to John at a table with the beautiful blonde.

It was then that Dean knew exactly who he was looking at, and so did Riley.

“...Mom?” Dean asked himself.

Riley let out a small laugh of disbelief. “That’s--that’s Mary?”

Young Mary was captivating. Her hair fell in a Farrah Faucet style that framed around her face and her smile lit up the room. The chemistry between her and John was obvious; they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other.

“Dean...she’s beautiful.”

Dean scoffed with a grin. “Sammy, wherever you are, Mom is a babe.” As Riley’s neck snapped in his direction with a repulsed and judgmental look, he realized what he had said.

“...ew.”

“Yeah, I'm going to Hell...again.”

Riley shook her head as she grimaced. “I’m gonna pretend that didn’t just happen.”

Mary then excused herself from the table and went towards the back as Riley and Dean watched John.

Lost in their stakeout, the two didn’t even notice her sneak up behind them.

“Why are you following us?” Mary demanded.

Both Dean and Riley turned to the sound as Mary kneed Dean in the stomach before throwing him up against the wall. As she went to punch him, Dean dodged it, stepping sideways.

Anger filled Mary’s face. She was clearly well-trained and knew how to fight as her fists swung hard at Dean.

Disoriented and confused, Dean tried to keep her at a distance. “Are you crazy?”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Riley called out over the tussle, unsure what to do. “Hey, we can explain!”

Enraged, Mary spun around to swipe a punch near Riley’s face.

The hunter just barely moved away in time. “Jesus, lady!”

Dean took the opportunity to grab Mary’s arm, though she wouldn’t relent. The two were in a battle for the upper-hand as Mary continued her assault.

“You've been trailing us since my house,” Mary told him as she eyed Riley as well.

Finally able to get a hold of her, Dean pushed her up against the brick wall, holding her in place. “Okay, how about we talk about this, huh?”

“Let me go!”

The soft street lights pinged off a silver bracelet on Mary’s wrist that caught Dean’s attention. He honed in on it to see the charms that dangled from it; protective charms from the supernatural that no civilian would wear.

Dean released his hold on her with a trembling hand as he took a step back, shaken to his core. Almost afraid to ask, his voice went low with fear, “...are you a hunter?”

------

Quietly, Riley and Dean hid behind a large and overgrown tree near Mary’s house, waiting for her to come home.

“Hey, thanks for the help back there, by the way,” Dean sniped somewhat playfully.

Riley looked up at him before throwing up her hands. “What was I supposed to do, Dean? Tackle your mom?”

He gave an accepting expression with a nod. “Fair enough.”

The Chevy pulled to a stop in front of the house before John and Mary kissed each other goodnight.

After getting out, she then waved to him as he disappeared down the road.

Once he was out of sight, Riley and Dean stepped out from the shadows.

“Dean, right? And Riley?” Mary asked. “I'm not sure you should come in.”

“You can trust us. I mean, come on, we're all hunters, right?” Dean couldn’t help himself. He had to know more about her. Whatever was going on had to have something to do with Mary being in the life. “I mean, we're--we're practically family.”

Riley’s lips came together in a tight line at his words. She could feel the swell of emotions coming from Dean. The love he had for his mother, the anticipation that was eating at him, and the fear of the truth was all too obvious to her.

“Yeah, thing is, my dad, he's a little, um…”

“Oh, I gotta meet him,” he replied earnestly. There was no doubt in Dean’s mind that he had to meet the rest of the family that he had never known. What little he had been told about the Campbells and the truths that had been hidden all those years made him itch to go inside.

“You've heard of him?”

“Clearly not enough.”

------

Inside the Campbell house, Dean and Riley stood beside a somewhat hesitant Mary. They waited at a distance from Mary’s father as he sat in his recliner, flipping through his book. He wouldn’t even raise his head to look at them.

He was in his late 50’s, his mouth surrounded in salt and pepper scruff. Mr. Campbell had a receding hairline and wrinkles around his eyes, years of hunting weighing on his face. It was clear from the get go, he was not the type to make friends.

“So, you’re hunters,” Mr. Campbell started. “Well, tell me something, mister and miss hunter, you kill vampires with wooden stakes or silver?”

“Ah, trick question.” Riley smirked proudly. “You cut their heads off.”

Mary smiled at her answer.

With his hands still tucked into his leather jacket, Dean gazed down at him. “So, did we pass your test?”

“Yep. Now get the fuck out of my house.” Still never even peering up at them, Mr. Campbell went back to his book.

Riley looked up at Dean with a sarcastic smile. “Well, this is going great.”

“I don't trust other hunters,” he told them. “--don't want their help, don't want them around my family.”

After being quiet long enough, the woman setting the table behind them spoke up. “Knock it off, Samuel.” She walked up to the young hunters and smiled sweetly. Mrs. Campbell had a bob haircut, blonde like Mary’s. Her expression was gentle and understanding. “They passed your little pop quiz, and now I am inviting them to dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Dean and Riley answered in unison.

“Good. I'm Deanna, you've met my husband Samuel, now wash up.”

As Mrs. Campbell retreated back into the kitchen, Dean and Riley shared a look of realization before he turned to Mary. “...Samuel and Deanna?”

She nodded in response before following her mother to help prepare the meal.

“Okay…” Riley started before looking up at Dean with a grin, “that’s adorable.”

------

Dean, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, Mary, and Riley sat around the dining room table eating dinner.

It was awkwardly quiet before Deanna spoke up. “So, Riley--Dean, this your first time in Lawrence?”

Riley and Dean briefly looked at each other before he answered, “well, it's been a while. Things sure have changed...I think.”

“You two working a job?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Taken back, Samuel asked, “what's that mean?”

“It means we don't trust other hunters either, Samuel.”

“Hey, um--” Mary started as she swallowed her newest bite. “So, why were you following me and John?”

Riley wiped her mouth on her napkin. “We thought something was after your, uh--boyfriend. But we don’t think that’s the case anymore.”

Deanna giggled. “John Winchester mixing it up with spirits, can you imagine?”

Everyone noticed Samuel give a scoff at the notion.

“I saw that,” Mary said, confronting him. “That sour lemon look.”

Putting up a hand, Samuel told her, “now hold on, John's a really, really nice...naive civilian.”

“So, what? You'd rather me be with a guy like this?” Mary motioned towards Dean with a nod.

Dean's face washed over with a look of utter discomfort on his face as Riley nearly laughed into her drink. “What? No, no. No,” Dean told them adamantly.

Fed up with her family, Mrs. Campbell chimed in. “That's enough, both of you. We have company.”

When it went quiet again, Riley asked, “So, Samuel...what about you? You, uh--working a job?”

“Might be,” he said plainly.

Mary was growing more comfortable with their dinner guests and told them the truth. “He's working a job on the Whitshire Farm.”

Samuel shot Mary a displeased look.

“Whitshire…” Dean turned to Riley. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Well, it's been all over the papers,” Samuel interjected. “Tom Whitshire--got tangled up in a combine a few towns over.”

“That kind of thing happens.”

“So, why was he on it in the first place when his crops are all dead?”

After studying Mr. Campbell for a moment, Riley added her thoughts. “...demonic omens.”

“That's what I gotta find out.”

Wanting to know more, Dean pressed. “What about the rest of the town? Did you find anything on the web?” Realizing what decade he was in, he swerved his sentence. “...of information that you have assembled.”

“Electrical storms maybe.” It was clear that while Deanna may not have been an active hunter, she was kept in the loop on everything that was happening. “The weather service graphs should be here on Friday.”

Dean was dumbfounded when he put together what she meant. “By mail?”

“No, we hired a jet liner to fly 'em to us overnight,” Samuel sniped.

“You know, it sounds to me like we might be hunting the same thing. You know if we go in there in numbers, we could take care of this real quick.”

“He’s right,” Riley added. “The more of us that are on this, the better.”

Eyeing the two young hunters, Samuel appeared annoyed. “What part of ‘we work alone’ do you two not understand?”

------

The next day, Samuel and Mary had driven out into the country to the Whitshire farm. It was a two-story, pale blue home with trees scattered around, and a field directly across the way.

As they sat in their truck, Mary looked to her father, who was disguised as a priest. “And I'm here because?”

“Family business, Mary…” he told her. “Family.” Before getting out, Samuel grabbed a homemade treat from Mrs. Campbell to bring to the grieving family. “What? You'd rather be waving pom-poms at a bunch of dumb jocks?”

Mary immediately noticed a teenage boy leaning against a tree nearby. His head was hung with sadness as he rested beneath the shade.

As she began to walk towards him, Samuel asked, “where you goin'?”

“To do the job, Dad,” she smirked.

Knowing he had trained her well, Samuel left Mary to her task. He went up the steps and knocked on the door.

When the door opened, there stood Riley and Dean with the widow. Dean was dressed as a priest with Riley posing as a nun.

Not wanting to give himself away, but still frustrated with the young hunters, Samuel tried to keep his composure. “Father--sister, I see you beat me here.”

Dean smiled. “The Lord is funny that way.”

Staying in character, but enjoying the tension between the two, Riley feigned an, “amen.”

“Beth Whitshire, this is our associate--our senior, senior priest, Father Chaney.”

“Please accept our deepest condolences on behalf of the county diocese,” Samuel said to the widow as he offered her the baked goods.

“Thank you.” The widow was clearly heartbroken, her eyes red from crying and tired from a lack of sleep.

With her hands folded in front of her, Riley spoke softly. “Mrs. Whitshire was telling us all about Tom and how everything was normal and ordinary before his death.” She eyed Samuel as she relayed the information as discreetly as possible.

Nodding a bit, Samuel turned back to Mrs. Whitshire. “I see, so you didn't notice anything unusual, ma’am?”

The woman sniffled with an upset expression, practically bewildered by his question. “You mean like my husband’s guts fertilizing the back 40?”

Samuel stood stunned by her response in silence.

Looking amused with the situation, both Dean and Riley turned to leave.

“Excuse us,” Dean said, patting Samuel on the back before he and Riley walked off the porch towards Mary and the young man.

At a closer look, the Whitshire boy appeared to be nearly seventeen. He was blonde, tan from working on the farm, with piercing blue eyes.

Once the two had met up with Mary beneath the tree, she asked the teenager, “Charlie, would you like to tell the Father here what you just told me?”

“Dad drank sometimes,” Charlie admitted. “Sometimes he got rough with Mom.”

“And that's when the stranger came?”

He nodded sadly. “I just thought he was some Bible thumper, like you all. He showed up about a week ago.”

“What did he say?” Riley could feel the fear that spilled from Charlie. It was mixed with guilt and shame as his heart broke for his family.

“Did I want the beatings to stop? I just thought he was crazy, I didn't think--” Charlie’s voice trailed off. “And the next thing I know, Dad's dead. ...am I going to jail?”

Trying to ease his pain, Riley gently touched his arm. “Charlie, it’s not your fault.”

Dean grew more curious. “Did the stranger want something in return?”

“He didn't want anything,” Charlie replied.

“Come on, Chuck. He wasn't just handing out freebies now, was he?”

“He did say something about comin' a callin' ten years from now--maybe he'd want something then.”

“Something like what?”

“I don't know, okay?” The boy began to get choked up. “Look, I told you he was nuts.”

Mary motioned to Dean so they could speak in private. After they had stepped away, leaving Riley with Charlie, Mary asked him. “what do you think?”

Dean ran his palm down his face. “I think he just pimped his soul to a fuckin’ demon and doesn't even know it.”

As they returned to where Riley and Charlie stood, they listened to their ongoing conversation.

“So, Charlie…” Riley went on. “This stranger...what, uh--what did he look like?”

“He was about 5’10”, white--normal looking really.”

“Okay, do you remember anything else? Anything at all.”

Hesitantly, Charlie peered back at her. “There was one thing.” He stopped with trepidation before answering. “It's just--the light hit his eyes in a weird way and...for a moment I coulda sworn--”

“Were they black, maybe? Or red?”

“No...they were yellow--pale yellow.”

Riley and Dean instantly grew cold. Since that night at the Devil’s Gate, the two believed that they were finally free from the evil that had plagued them all their lives.

They turned to each other as their stomachs dropped.

Both Dean and Riley knew...the monster had found them once again.

------

Back at the Campbell house, Deanna worked in the kitchen making a large fruit salad as the others all joined around the table.

Dean practically slammed a large map down on the table top with anxiety pulsing through him.

Thinking that Dean was being reckless, Samuel sighed. “What do you say we just slow down and talk this thing through?”

“There's nothing to talk about,” Dean muttered with a heavy breath.

“Except you're saying it's a demon, and none of us has ever heard of a demon with yellow eyes.”

Standing straight up, Dean met his gaze. “Yeah, well, we have. This thing killed our families.”

“Just calm down, son.”

Riley chuckled somewhat condescendingly. “You just don’t get it, do you? Every single one of us is in danger and you and your family need to get the hell outta dodge.”

“Not until we know what we're dealing with here.”

“Sam's right,” Deanna told them as she came in with the freshly made snack. “It could be a demon, it could be a shapeshifter--it could be any number of things.”

Dean’s fear and panic matched the storm inside him as he barked back, “We know what this thing is!” As Deanna went back into the kitchen, Dean lowered his voice. “And I'm gonna kill it--that's all the goddamn talking I need to do.”

As he folded his arms across his chest, Samuel gave him a condescending look. “You're gonna kill a demon? How?”

Riley moved closer, her hand reaching out to pinpoint a spot on the map. “Daniel Elkins--a hunter. He lives in Colorado and he’s got something we need...a gun--Colt’s gun, actually. The Colt.”

“Yeah, I heard about the Colt--used to tell it to Mary as a bedtime story.”

“Yeah, well...we all know some bedtime stories are real, don’t we? And this? The Colt? It’s real.”

Both Deanna and Samuel turned to the other, unsure what to think.

Looking back to the others, Samuel stated his case. “Alright, say that it is. You got some kind of crystal ball telling you where this demon's gonna be?”

“Maybe we do,” Riley replied.

Dean took out John’s journal from inside his jacket that draped over a nearby chair. He then flipped it open on the table in front of them to a flagged page. “It's a list.”

“Of what?” Mr. Campbell asked, trying to be patient with the young hunter.

“My dad wrote down anyone he thought ever came in contact with the Yellow-Eyed Demon: who, where and when.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause the more he could learn about the son of a bitch, the more he could figure out why it killed my mom.” Dean’s voice went soft at the end of his explanation as Riley peered up at him with a heavy heart. It never got easier for either of them to talk about the loss of their families, no matter how much time had passed. He flicked through a few of the pages before pointing to a name. “Look, Whitshire Farm. I told you that name sounded familiar.”

“Whitshire Farms, that was two days ago. How the hell is that on your dad's list?”

“Uh...” Riley tried to find the right answer. “His dad was psychic--could see the future. But look,” she put her finger down on the paper at a date. “This says that shit’s about to go down tomorrow night.”

Samuel and Deanna gave a surprised look at her choice of words.

“Liddy Walsh in Haleyville.” Her eyes went back to Dean. “That’s only a few miles away.”

Deanna shook her head slightly at it all. When Samuel shared her expression, he looked back at Dean and sighed. It was obvious they didn’t believe them.

“I know you guys think we’re crazy,” Dean added.

“You seem like really nice kids, Dean but, yeah--you're crazy.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I know where this bastard's gonna be and we’re gonna stop it--once and for all.” Dean grabbed the journal and his jacket before he walked out of the room.

Left alone with the Campbells, Riley allowed herself to feel the doubt that weighed on them. She pursed her lips in thought as she went to leave the room. Riley then turned back to them with pleading eyes. “Samuel...please. For everyone’s sake, we need you to believe us.”

As she left the kitchen, Riley caught up with Dean as he went toward the foyer of the home. His eyes were settled on Mary who sat quietly in the living room listening to music.

“We’re shoving off. I just wanted to say, bye,” he said to his young mother with sad eyes.

Mary stood from her chair and tucked her hands into her back pockets. “Really? So soon?”

“Yeah--job to do. Hey, I wanted to--to tell you, you know for what it's worth. Um...it doesn't matter what your dad thinks, I like that John kid.”

With a sweet look, Riley added, “yeah, me too. I gotta be honest, Mary. I think you two were kind of meant to be.”

“You do?” she asked with a sweet smile.

“Hell, I'm depending on it,” Dean muttered to himself. He paused as he gathered his thoughts. “Um, can I ask you a question?” When Mary nodded, he went on, “what's he like? John.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

“I don't know,” Mary shrugged as she tried to hide her smile. “He's sweet--kind. Even after the war, after everything, he still believes in happily ever after, you know? He's everything a hunter isn't.” She took a beat before adding, “no offense.”

Dean chuckled. “Nah, none taken.”

As a thought came over Mary, she was too excited to contain it. “Can I tell you something?” Both Dean and Riley waited anxiously for what she had to say. “He's gonna ask me to marry him. Tomorrow, I think!” Mary practically giggled to herself, beaming with excitement.

The love and connection Mary had with John flowed from her. Riley stood quietly in a moment of peace as she basked in the warmth of the utter adoration.

Mary continued grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, Dad's gonna explode, but I don't care. I'll run away if I have to, I just…I love John, and…”

“And what?” Dean asked.

Her face somewhat fell as she grew more serious. “I wanna get out. This job, this life...I hate it. I want a family, I wanna be safe.” Mary paused in thought and her heart felt heavy in her chest. “You know the worst thing I can think of? The very worst thing? Is for my children to be raised into this like I was. ...I won’t let it happen.”

Blinking back tears at his mother’s words, Dean barely kept himself together. “Yeah…” He knew that Mary’s greatest wish would never come to be and that her worst fears would live and breathe in her sons.

The contentment that Riley had felt only seconds before faded away as she drowned in Dean’s heartache. He was breaking at Mary’s every word.

“Hey, are you okay?” Mary asked sweetly.

“Yeah, no, I'm--I'm fine,” he choked out. Dean peered down at Riley as if trying to draw the strength to keep going. When Riley reached out to touch his arm, Dean exhaled. A lump in his throat began to grow, making his voice low. “Hey, uh--Mary, can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“Even if this sounds really weird. Will you promise me that you will remember?”

“Okay.”

Dean was ready to sob right in front of her like a broken little boy, his eyes welling to the brim. His voice trembled as he looked into his mother’s eyes. “On November 2nd, 1983...don't get out of bed,” Dean pleaded. “No matter what you hear, or what you see. ...promise me you won't get out of bed.”

“Okay,” she told him, unsure of what to make of the stranger’s warning.

A tear he could no longer control ran down Dean’s cheek before he immediately dragged his hand over his face, wiping away his grief. He then feigned a broken smile before turning to leave.

Riley cleared her throat as she discreetly rubbed the tears away from beneath her eyes. “It, uh--” she sniffled as she looked at Mary. “It was so great to meet you, Mary. Please...take care of yourself.”

“Yeah,” Mary told her. “You too.”

Once Riley had gone to the door and shut it behind her, she watched Dean who stood silently on the sidewalk. He was staring out vacantly into the night.

She knew how much pain he was in, how much he was suffering. Riley knew that Dean had dreamt his entire life that he would see his mother again; only for him to have let Mary go all over again.

Riley took her time finding her way to his side. “Dean…”

As he turned to her voice, his eyes were red, his face heavy with sorrow. “We gotta make all of this right, Rye.”

“Okay,” she said softly as she gazed up at his heartbroken expression. “We will.”

Dean nodded with a weak, “yeah.” He then cleared his throat and wiped away whatever sadness still dripped down his face as he went over to the driver’s side.

------

The night had engulfed the highway roads as Riley and Dean drove on. It was quiet in the car, both hunters were at a loss for words.

As Dean peered into his rearview mirror, there sat Castiel staring back at him. Dean inhaled sharply at the shock and Riley spun around toward the angel at his sudden presence.

“You ever get tired of sneaking up on people?” Riley asked in annoyance.

When Castiel didn’t respond, Dean looked back at him again. “Well, you're a regular Chatty Cathy.” Still reeling from everything, Dean needed answers. “Tell me something. Sam would have wanted in on this, why not bring him back?”

“The two of you had to do this alone, Dean.” Castiel’s monotone voice never seemed to fluctuate.

“And you don't care that he's tearing up the fuckin’ future looking for us right now?”

“Sam's not looking for you.”

“Alright, if we do this, then the family curse breaks, right? Mom and Dad live happily ever after, and--and, Sam and I grow up playing little league and chasing tail?”

Finally looking into the mirror, he replied, “you realize, if you do alter the future, your father, you, Sam--you'll never become hunters. And all those people you saved, they'll die.”

Dean paused. “I realize...” he said in a somber tone.

“And you don't care?”

“Oh, I care. I care a lot, but these are my parents. I'm not gonna let them die again. I can't. No, not if I can stop it.”

Fully on Dean’s side, Riley added, “he’s right. We’re not gonna let it happen.”

A thought that she had kept to herself urged its way up and out of her mouth until she could no longer hold it in. “And what about my family, huh?” Riley barked at the angel in the backseat. “Why isn’t there a plan to save them too? I mean, why am I even here?”

When there was no answer and she looked behind her, Castiel had already vanished.

She sighed, frustrated. “...feathery son of a bitch is really starting to piss me off,” Riley uttered as she folded her arms.

“Join the club,” Dean retorted.

-----

After hours of driving, the hunters had found themselves in Colorado at a familiar, remote destination just as the sun peeked over the hills. The mountains were eerily still as the wind softly whistled through the trees.

Elkin’s cabin had a different feel than it had on their last visit. The rooms hadn’t been destroyed in a tussle and the scent of a dead body no longer lingered in the air.

The living room was bathed in soft, morning light as the two quietly searched for what they had come for.

Dean knelt in front of a safe that sat on the floor and worked to get it open. It then clicked and he swung the door open to reveal the Colt inside. He then pulled it from the safe before he was tapped on the shoulder.

An anxious feeling had struck Riley. She scratched her nose to silently signal Dean to connect with her. Her expression was filled with urgency. “We gotta go, Dean. Now!”

The sound of a shotgun cocking came from behind them, causing them both to stop their movements.

“Hold it right there, friend,” a voice commanded. “Drop the gun, be on your way.”

Riley had her hands up slightly as Dean did the same. He then only pretended to lay the Colt on top of the safe before spinning around to point it at the man glaring back at him.

“Can't do it, Daniel,” Dean told him plainly.

It felt so strange to them both to be staring at the man whose body they had once found torn to shreds.

“Who the fuck are you two?”

“Hunters, just like yourself.”

“Oh, yeah?” Elkins asked, still aiming his gun. “Thieves’ more like it.”

Riley took a slow step forward, her eyes honed in on Daniel. “We don’t want any trouble, okay? We just need it for a couple of days, that’s all.”

“Not happening.”

Realizing he had to convince the hunter to trust him, Dean pleaded his case. “Look, I have a chance to save my family’s lives--my family. But I need this gun to do it.” And though he wanted to keep things from escalating, he wasn’t about to leave without that gun. “So, if you want to stop me? ...kill me.”

Riley swallowed hard at his words but stood her ground beside him, hoping that Daniel would understand.

As Dean looked at Riley, he motioned toward the door to leave. The two moved carefully toward the exit and past Daniel. They then turned back around to him as he lowered his weapon.

“There's some hunters in Lawrence, the Campbells.”

“Never heard of them.”

“...that's where she'll be.”

As they turned to leave, Riley offered a soft, “thank you.”

Elkins nodded to her before she and Dean walked out the front door, armed with the Colt once again.

------

Riley and Dean knew exactly where Yellow-Eyes was planning to hit next and drove as fast as they could to get to the Walsh family home.

It was night by the time they had arrived and the car they had hotwired screeched to a stop. They raced up the steps to an already open door and ran inside as Dean drew the Colt.

Their eyes immediately fell on the chaos in the living room. A weeping woman was curled up on the couch in terror while Samuel was pinned to a wall by an invisible force. Poor Mary was in a hand to hand fight with him and struggling to maintain her ground.

That was when a strange man turned in their direction, his eyes a piercing yellow that made their blood run cold.

“No!” Riley cried out.

The possessed man grabbed Mary and held her with his arm around her throat.

Dean shouted his command, “let her go!”

Yellow-Eyes smirked over Mary’s shoulder as he looked back at Riley and Dean. But his pleased expression fell once his eyes landed on the Colt.

Clearly surprised, the demon asked, “...where'd you get that gun?”

Dean cocked the gun and gave a nod to Mary. She then headbutt the man away from herself, giving Dean a chance to take the shot.

But before Dean could fire, black smoke poured like a powerful storm out of the vessel’s mouth. Evil sounds of shrieking screams swirled in the darkness. It clouded above them before then shooting into a vent in the wall.

The demon was gone, its vessel collapsing as the room went silent.

Dean’s head fell in shame at his failure. “Dammit,” he muttered under his breath.

------

The three young hunters walked out of the house onto the front lawn. Dean paced with nerves, while Mary stood frozen in the grass, unsure of how to cope with what had just happened.

“Mary, what else did he say to you?” Dean asked her.

“I told you, just that he liked me.” Mary stopped as a horrible thought made her shudder. She looked up at Dean with fear in her eyes as her voice trembled. “What did he mean by that?”

Neither Dean or Riley dared to answer her.

Samuel closed the front door behind him before walking down the steps to the others. “Liddy's a strong kid, she'll be fine.” He quickly went to Mary. “Are you okay?”

“No, Dad, I'm pretty far from fucking okay,” Mary barked back, clearly still shaken. “Can we go?”

As she left to get back in their truck, Samuel turned to Dean. “Nice job in there,” he told him.

“I missed the shot,” Dean said with shame in his voice.

“Take the compliment, son. I'm saying that I was wrong about you...both of you.”

Riley winced and Dean’s attention went to her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure.” Riley touched her stomach. “I’m just really nauseous...kinda dizzy. I’m probably just tired. It’s fine.” Before Dean could argue with her, she then looked up to Samuel and changed the subject. “The three of us need to talk.”

------

After getting back to the house, Riley and Samuel sat at the dining room table while Dean paced.

“We have to kill this thing now, or Mary dies.” Dean peered through the front window curtains, worried they would be followed.

“What?” Samuel asked him with a shocked and firm voice. “How do you know that?”

Dean pulled out John’s journal from his jacket. “I just do, okay?” His nervous hands fumbled to open it as he tried to scan for something that could help guide them. Though Dean had read it a thousand times, there had to be something he missed.

“When?!”

“I don't know, maybe today, probably years from now, but it's happening--trust me.”

“So, what?” Samuel said with a hint of annoyance. “Are you some kind of a psychic now too?”

Riley sat quietly as she tried to hide her discomfort. There was an unbearable sickness in the pit of her gut. It felt as though all of her walls had come down. Something was wrong and it nearly made her physically ill.

Dean noticed her demeanor and sour face. “You good, sweetheart?”

She then turned to Dean. “Yeah, I, uh--I think I need to get some fresh air.”

“...you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I’ll be back in a bit.” Riley forced a tight-lipped smile at Samuel before going out the front door.

Once she had gone, it went quiet for a moment with neither of the men knowing what to say.

Dean knew he had to somehow get through to Samuel and did his best to level with him. “Alright, listen to me. Now, this is gonna sound a little...actually it's gonna sound massively, massively crazy.”

“Okay,” Samuel urged.

Dean paused. “Mary is my mother.”

“...excuse me?”

“And I am your grandson, and I know what the hell I'm talking about.”

Samuel looked back at him in utter disbelief. “You wanna run that by me again, son?”

“My real name is Dean Winchester. I was born January 24th, 1979. My parents are Mary and John Winchester.”

“I don't have to listen to this.” Sitting back in his chair, Samuel scoffed.

“Mary gets killed by a yellow-eyed demon in 1983, and I think that this--what happened tonight, I think this is the moment that he caught her scent. Now, if we don't catch this thing now, and kill it...and it gets away? Then Mary dies.” There was obvious pain in Dean’s eyes. His voice went low as he swallowed his heartache. “So I am asking you...please.”

------

Outside, close to the house, Riley grimaced at the sickness still swirling inside her. Her head was spinning and her body felt weak. And though the fresh air helped, her hands went to her knees as she doubled over, ready vomit.

She groaned. “Time travel does not seem to agree with me,” Riley uttered to herself.

It was then that she saw Mary sneak out from the opposite side of the house as the Impala came to a stop in front of the house.

Riley hurried to hide herself in the shadows among the trees. Quietly, she watched over John and Mary.

Mary ran to John and threw herself in his arms. She shook with anxiety as John took her by the shoulders, trying to ground her.

“Hey, you--you okay?” he questioned, deeply concerned by her demeanor.

“You promised you'd take me away.” Mary’s eyes began to fill with tears.

“Of course I did.”

“Do it now,” she told him adamantly.

Mary didn’t need to say another word. The fear in her eyes was too real to ignore. John opened the passenger door for her and shut it once she was inside. He then hurried to the driver’s side before starting the car.

Baby’s soft headlights lit up the street as she purred away into the darkness.

Once the couple had gone, Riley stepped out and sighed. Her hands sat in her jacket pockets as she stared down the road.

There was no denying the love that John and Mary had for each other, and it broke Riley to know the future had already doomed them both.

------

Back inside the Campbell home, Dean and Samuel continued their talk at the kitchen table. Dean did his best to convince his grandfather of the truth, no matter how insane it all sounded.

“How did I know about the Colt? Huh? How did I know about the Yellow-Eyed demon? Or where it would be? I'm not making this up, Samuel.”

Samuel sat quietly for a moment as he studied Dean. “Every bone in my body is aching to put you six goddamn feet under, but there's something about you--I can't shake it. Now, I may be crazier than you, son, but...I believe you.”

“Thank you,” Dean said with an exhale of relief.

“I mean, how do we find this bastard?”

“Right here.” Dean tapped the leather covering of John’s journal. “The list.” He opened the small book and began to skim through it.

“And with the Colt?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, his eyes still focusing on the journal. He took the Colt out of his jacket and sat it on the table.

“Here, let me see it.” Samuel began to reach across the table towards the weapon.

Hesitating at the thought, Dean slid the gun further away from Samuel. “Sorry, I don't let anybody hold it.”

The older hunter chuckled in disbelief. “I'm your grandfather.”

“Nothing personal.”

“Sure it is...especially when it's me you're trying to kill.” And as he hissed his words, Samuel’s eyes began to glow a marble yellow.

The sight shocked Dean to his core as panic boiled inside him. He knew exactly who was staring back at him.

But before Dean could react, the demon raised his hand, causing the hunter’s chair to slide harshly across the floor before slamming against the wall.

Unable to move, Dean strained against whatever invisible hold had him in its grips.

“Future boy, huh?” Azazel sauntered over to him. “I only know one thing that's got the juice to swing something like that. You must have friends in high places. So...I kill your mommy?” The demon dipped down to get in Dean’s face as he smiled in the most sinister fashion. “That's why you came all this way? To see little old me?”

Dean’s face twitched with wrath. He could feel the fire inside him grow into a storm of violent hate. “Oh, I came here to kill you.”

“Hey, wait a minute, if that slut Mary's your mommy, are you…” he paused at the thought with a pleased grin. “Are you one of my psychic kids?” When Dean didn’t answer, Yellow-Eyes leaned in to sniff his neck. “No, not you. Maybe you got a sis...or a bro.” Again, the demon’s questions went unanswered. But, the twinge in Dean’s eyes let him know, everything was falling into place. “That's terrific--means it all worked out. After all, it's why I'm here.”

The front door opened as Riley walked back inside and the two turned at the sound.

As she stood in the entrance to the living room, Riley felt her heart stop as yellow irises glowed back at her. The evil that smiled at her sent shivers down her spine. And though everything inside her wanted to rip the demon apart, her instincts lied elsewhere.

“Dean!” she shouted.

Panting with worry, Dean cried out, “no! Riley, run!”

Without thought, Riley began to charge at the monster. But with another wave of his hand, Azazel flicked her across the room and against the opposite wall. She grunted at the forced impact while still trying to fight her way free.

The demon grinned from ear to ear as he looked at her. “Well, well, well. And who do we have here? ...Riley, is it?” Azazel took his time as he grew closer, stepping away from Dean.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Dean commanded.

Ignoring him as if he was nothing but a pestering fly, Yellow-Eyes stood directly in front of Riley, studying her over. “You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” He took her chin in his hand and she flinched, trying to keep her eyes off of his.

Azazel then snickered as he leaned into her neck. He took his time inhaling her scent and a pleased hum came from his chest as he practically moaned. “Oh. Well this is a treat. I mean, Dean may not be one of mine, but you? ...I can smell myself inside you,” he seethed through his teeth.

Suddenly, Riley’s sickness all made sense. Her abilities had always become unbearable around Yellow-Eyes. She grew angry with herself for not knowing the monster had followed them back.

“Fuck you,” Riley bit back.

“Ooh. She’s feisty. I like it.” He paused, intrigued. “But...there’s something else.” Again, his face grew close to the nape of her neck only for his tongue to slowly drag across her skin.

Riley recoiled as every muscle in her body tightened, disgusted and violated. Behind them, Dean practically growled with rage as he still tried to free himself.

“Oh...my…” Azazel said with hunger in his voice. “What are you? Because, you...you’re downright delicious. I can see the strength you have--the raw power. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He moaned again, licking his lips as he pushed her hair behind her ear. “Like a diamond in the rough…”

Hearing him call her that again made tears pull forward in Riley’s eyes. She thought she was finally free of the demon’s curse, only for him to hold her at his mercy all over again.

“You…” Azazel chuckled happily. “Oh, I can tell--you’re gonna be my favorite.”

Desperate to get the monster off of Riley, Dean tried to regain his attention. “So, that's what this is about--these deals you're making. You don't want these people's souls.”

“No, I just want their children.” Yellow-Eyes peered over his shoulder to the trapped hunter. “I'm here to choose the perfect parents, like your mommy.”

“Why her? Why any of them?”

Azazel took his time taunting Riley, his fingers brushing through her hair. “Because they're strong.”

Quietly Deanna peeked around the corner of the kitchen doorway only to see her husband possessed, tormenting the young hunters.

The demon went on. “They're pure, and they eat their Wheaties. My own little master race--they're ideal breeders.”

Dean furrowed his brow at the thought of what that could mean.

“Oh, get your mind out of the fucking gutter. No one’s breeding with me. Though, Riley...?” His eyes bore into her as if trying to capture her soul. “Mmm, I'd like to make an exception.”

Furious, Dean tried to move again to no avail. As he stopped, he noticed Deanna watching from the next room. He knew he had to buy them time. “So, why make the deals?”

“I need permission.” Yellow-Eyes drug a finger from Riley’s jawline down toward her chest as Deanna snuck quietly into the room.

Riley kept quiet as the demon’s unspeakable and unholy presence crawled like bugs under her skin. It took everything she had to not panic. Her empathic abilities around Azazel were always unbearable and had her feeling as if she was on the brink of insanity.

“I need to be invited into their houses. I know, I know, the red tape'll drive you nuts. But in ten short years, it'll all be worth it.” Finally turning his attention away from Riley, Azazel went to Dean once more. “‘Cause you know what I'm gonna do to your sibling? ...I'm gonna stand over their crib and I'm gonna bleed into their mouth.” He peeked over his shoulder only momentarily back to Riley. “Just like I’m gonna do to your girlfriend.”

A rush of panic went through Riley and she froze as her eyes welled. There was no hiding it anymore, the truth about the demon blood had finally surfaced.

Dean just looked back at her, dumbfounded.

Yellow-Eyes went on. “Demon blood is better than Ovaltine, vitamins, minerals--it makes you big and strong.”

“So, what?” Riley taunted. “We’re just part of your pathetic demon army? Huh? That’s your master plan?”

Azazel scoffed. “Please, my end game's a hell of a lot bigger than that kid.”

“What end game?”

“Like I'm gonna tell you.” Yellow-Eyes stared at Dean with a proud smirk. “...or those dirty little angels sitting on your shoulder. No, I'm gonna cover my tracks good.”

Dean’s lips twitched as he practically snarled. “You can cover whatever the fuck you want, but I'm still gonna kill you.”

“Right. Now that, I'd like to see.”

Knowing what would happen decades later in that cemetery, Dean used it as fuel to face the horrific monster before him. His wrath filled the room, hate seeping from his pores. “Maybe not today, but you look into my eyes, you fucking son of a bitch...‘cause I'm the one that kills you,” Dean threatened in a dark voice.

Azazel was taken aback by Dean’s words and for a brief second believed the young hunter. But the demon refused to ever admit defeat and grinned malevolently as he laughed. “So, you're gonna save everybody, is that right? Is that it?” he teased. “Well, I'll tell you one person that you're not gonna save…” The demon pulled out a knife from Samuel’s belt. “...your Grandpappy.”

With a sadistic wink, Yellow-Eyes plunged the knife into Samuel’s abdomen.

“No!” Dean and Riley shouted.

A sudden shriek of pain and horror came from the kitchen. “No!” Deanna screamed.

Azazel turned to her as his eyes glowed a foggy yellow once more.

She threw herself to the ground, trying to reach for the Colt. But as she nearly grabbed it, the demon waved his hand, causing Deanna to be tossed like a ragdoll across the room. She cried out as she collided with the table before crashing hard into the floor.

Deanna’s lip dripped with blood as she used what little strength remained in her body to pull herself across her kitchen floor. She tried to escape, gasping for air as she crawled.

Still trapped, Riley felt Deanna’s fear become her own. Her heart raced in her ears and her body trembled. The physical pain she was in began to ache in Riley’s bones.

As Azazel slowly made his way toward her, blood pooling in Samuel’s shirt, Dean and Riley fought with all their might to get free. But all they could do was watch in terror as Yellow-Eyes grabbed Deanna by the head before snapping her neck.

The audible sound of her crunching bones made Riley scream out as if releasing Deanna’s final moment of horror.

Whatever force had held Dean and Riley at its mercy finally let them go. Dean rushed to grab the Colt as Riley ran to Deanna’s side.

When Dean ran into the kitchen ready to fire, Azazel had already disappeared. He then stopped as he saw Deanna laid dead on the floor, her eyes wide with fear.

Riley knelt beside her, tears falling down her face. “Oh, god…” she cried, covering her mouth.

A realization suddenly hit Dean like a runaway train. “Mary…”

------

Just off the highway, hidden below a high bridge sat a quiet river. The dark trees shaded the ground from the moonlight while only small beams soaked through.

The Chevy sat at the edge of the river with John and Mary sitting quietly inside. Their windows were down, a soft breeze coming from the water as a night bird sang nearby.

“I guess it's no secret why I brought you way out here.” John’s heart raced as he smiled at her lovingly.

Mary’s mind still rushed a mile a minute and her worries began to bubble to the surface. “John--”

He stopped her sweetly with a nervous breath. “I just--just let me get through this, okay?”

Knowing exactly what John had planned, Mary began to doubt it all. The idea of John being hurt because of the life she led was too painful. She wondered how selfish she was for dragging him into it all. “Okay, wait. There's things you don't know about me, John.”

John chuckled. “So?” He then reached into his pocket to pull out a small box. As he opened it, he revealed a modest, diamond ring and smile. “I will always love you for exactly who you are.”

Forgetting it all for just a moment, Mary let John’s love wash over her. She began to smile softly as they leaned in to share a kiss.

But before their lips could touch, a loud bang hit the side of the car before the passenger door was flung open.

There stood Samuel Campbell. “What did I tell you?”

“Dad!” Mary yelped in surprise. He then grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of the car.

“Sir, just listen!” Getting out as quick as he could, John hurried after them.

“Ow! Dad!” Mary cried. “You're hurting me!”

John ran over in an attempt to pull him off of Mary. “Hey, take it easy!”

Samuel’s possessed vessel released Mary, only to grab John’s head. He then wrenched it sideways with effortless force, breaking John’s neck and killing him instantly.

As John’s body fell into the dirt, Mary let out a blood-curdling scream. “No!” She dropped to her knees beside him and pulled John into her lap to cradle him in her arms.

Mary looked up at the tall figure above her knowing that was not her father. “You killed him.”

The demon kicked at John’s lifeless legs and snickered. “Oh, not just John, sweetie-pie,” he taunted as he crouched next to her. “Mommy and Daddy too.” With an eerie smile, Yellow-Eyes unzipped his jacket to show Mary the knife wound in her father’s stomach.

Mary’s face went white as she shook.

“They’re all dead.”

Weakly, as she looked at her father’s mortally wounded body, she mewled, “...no…”

“Yup, afraid so. You're little orphan Mary now.”

“You son of a bitch!” she cursed through her tears.

“Oh, sticks and stones may break my bones,” Azazel then leaned in closer to her to hiss, “...and they won't bring your family back either.”

Mary locked eyes with the man that had stolen her world from her. She immediately felt revenge grow inside her. “I'll fucking kill you, I swear to God.”

“Oh, let's not get nasty.” The demon slowly sat himself down in the dirt beside her, his eyes sizing her up, filled with desire. “Now look, we both said some things that we regret. Let's, um--kiss and make up.”

Still holding onto John, Mary rocked him close to her as she wept.

“I'll tell you what...I'll arrange to have lover boy here brought back breathing.”

Afraid of the answer, Mary asked in a broken voice, “...my parents too?”

“Nope, sorry doll, that's not on the table.” Yellow-Eyes knew how to get under her skin and to get exactly what he wanted. “But, think about it--you could be done with hunting forever. The white picket fence, station wagon, couple of kids, no more monsters or fear. I'll make sure of it.”

“What?” She looked back to him, furious. “And all it costs is my soul?”

“Oh, no, you can keep your soul. I just need permission.”

“...for what?”

“Mmm, in ten years I need to swing by your house for a little something...that's all.”

“For what?!” Mary demanded.

“Relax. As long as I'm not interrupted, nobody gets hurt, I promise.” The Yellow-Eyed demon paused. “Or you can spend the rest of your life, desperate and alone.”

As Mary continued to sob, the demon smiled to himself.

“Mary? It's a good deal. So...what do you say?”

Just then, a deep and angry voice yelled out from the darkness. “No! Stop!”

Mary and the demon turned to the sound to see Jackson Munroe emerge from the night, a blade in his hand. He was panting as his heart raced, his fear barely hidden beneath the surface.

“Jackson!” Azazel said with a smile. “Been a while, kid. How ya doin’?”

Jack strained to keep his eyes locked with the demon as his ability made him feel the unimaginable evil that seeped through the vessel.

Ignoring the creature's taunts, Jackson looked to Mary. As his eyes landed on the body in her arms, he knew what was happening. “Okay, look--whatever he’s offering you, don’t take it. It’s not worth it.”

“Aw, don’t listen to him. He’s just a little upset with me is all.” Yellow-Eyes honed in on Jackson once more. “This didn’t have to involve you, boy.” At a closer look, Azazel could see the blade that glistened in the moonlight and snickered. “Is--is that a demon blade?” He laughed. “That’s not gonna kill me, kid. There’s no weaseling out of our deal, Jack.”

“I’m not letting you make any more goddamn deals, Azazel,” Jackson seethed. “I don’t care what I have to do, I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“Mmm,” the demon feigned. “I don’t think so.” With yet another flick of his hand, Azazel’s incredible power flung Jackson away before he hit hard into the ground.

Yellow-Eyes refocused on Mary, who still sat in the dirt, holding the body of the man she loved as she wept. He sighed, contentedly. “Well, my dear. This offer is about to expire. Things to do--people to see.” The demon grinned. “So, do we have a deal?”

Just then, a beige, old car hurried in as its headlights shined brightly through the dark. Once it had come to a stop, both Dean and Riley anxiously scrambled out of the car. Their eyes fell on a young Mary, sharing a kiss with her possessed father and sealing whatever terrible fate awaited their family.

“No!” Dean screamed as he drew the Colt from his jacket.

As he aimed to fire, black smoke flew out of the mouth of the demon’s vessel. The evil that had occupied Samuel Campbell rushed into the air, only to disappear into the darkness. Immediately, Samuel’s lifeless body collapsed.

John let out a sharp gasp as his heart jolted back to life. Terrified and confused, he fumbled in Mary’s arms. “Mary?”

With a heavy exhale of relief, Mary pulled him in close. “John.”

Riley and Dean stood in place, devastated that they had failed.

A weak groan from nearby as Jackson weakly stood to his feet. His lip was bloody from the hit. As he looked on at Mary and John, his face twinged with emotion. Jackson’s jaw trembled with rage and defeat as he realized he had lost his one and only shot.

Both Dean and Riley turned in his direction and were stunned at the sight of him.

Riley’s eyes filled with tears. And though a million questions raced through her mind, she could only bring herself to utter a single word.

“...Dad?”

Before another moment had passed, Castiel appeared beside them and placed his hands on their shoulders.

------

Dean and Riley awoke in their motel room bed with a slight gasp. Immediately, their focus landed on Castiel who stood near the foot of the bed. The two then slowly sat up.

“We couldn't stop any of it. She still made the deal.” Dean stopped to look up at the angel. “She still died in the nursery, didn't she?”

“Don't be too hard on yourself. You couldn't have stopped it,” Castiel replied.

Riley appeared to be in a state of shock as she stared vacantly ahead. A tear slowly trickled down her cheek.

Dumbfounded by what he had just heard, Dean asked sharply, “what?” He stood to his feet, feeling confused and angry once more.

“Destiny can't be changed, Dean. All roads lead to the same destination.”

“Then why'd you send us back?”

“For the truth. Now you know everything we do.”

As she stood to her feet, Riley stared Castiel down. “Why?” she asked with tears in her eyes. “Why was my dad there? What the hell happened, Castiel? He knew Azazel!”

“Yes,” the angel told her. “Yes, he did.”

“Wh--” Riley struggled to find the words. “How?”

“We don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

“Riley,” Castiel started. “We don’t know what happened because your family--your bloodline, is shielded from Heaven’s eyes.”

“‘Shielded’?” Dean questioned. “Why?”

“We don’t know.”

Riley chuckled incredulously as her hands grasped into her hair. “Is there anything you do know? Or is this just one big game to you assholes?”

“No. This is far from a game.” Castiel’s ever serious expression sat on Riley. “And this is only the beginning.”

Scrunching his face in perplexion, Dean asked, “what the hell are you talking about? The beginning of what?”

Castiel looked to the other bed in the room. It was still made and clearly hadn’t been slept in. The hunters followed his gaze.

“Where's Sam?”

“We know what Azazel did to you and Sam,” he said to Riley. “What we don't know is why--what his endgame is. He went to great lengths to cover that up.”

“Where's Sam?” Dean repeated more firmly.

“425 Waterman.”

Instantly, Dean and Riley hurried to get on the road. As Dean grabbed the Impala’s keys, Riley threw on her jacket.

As the two hurried, Castiel continued to speak. “Your brother is headed down a dangerous road, Dean, and we're not sure where it leads.” He paused as the hunters turned to him and met his gaze. The intensity in his voice grew dark, chilling even. “So stop it...or we will.”

And as quickly as he came, Castiel was gone.

Not wanting to waste another second, Dean threw his duffel bag over his shoulder and went for the door. “Let’s go.”

His tone was slightly different and Riley could hear it. Too much had happened and too much had gone so horribly wrong. And now, Dean knew hers and Sam’s secret.

There was no going back. History had finally caught up with them, and had changed everything.

------

30 notes · View notes

alirhi · 3 years

Text

just me stuff

Putting it behind one of those helpful little "keep reading" links to make it easier to scroll right past :)

The other day, a friend asked me if I had DID (dissociative identity disorder, formerly known as multiple personality disorder/MPD). When I came out to my sister and tried to explain to her what genderfluid means (or at least, what it means to me; ask three different people who use that term to identify themselves and you'll get three different, equally valid definitions), she joked that it was "gender split-personality". It was funny at the time, but it's starting to grate on me a little.

I've got plenty wrong with me, both physically and mentally, but no. I don't have DID. The Josh/Ali thing is not "split personalities". It's still always me. And I've always been this way. As a kid, I climbed trees, played in mud, played with babydolls and Barbies and Tonka trucks and Hotwheels... Everything that was "typically girly" and "typically boyish", I did it all, and I loved it all equally. But I've never felt like I was "defying gender norms" or that gender didn't apply to me. Frilly dresses and dolls and happily sewing new clothes for my Barbies Ali was a girl. Muddy, scraped up, rough-and-tumble Josh was a boy. I never thought enough about it at the time to try to categorize it in my head, that came later, in retrospect, but that's how it always felt. Same kid, same body (and oh fuck, the dysphoria that nearly fucking killed me at times...), same mind, just... Different outlooks.

I think there might be a neurological component to it all, because when I switch, I can feel it. It's a weird little twinge in my head. Sometimes I don't notice lol but a lot of the time, I do, and the world looks different. Apparently, even the way I speak and carry myself changes a little; my friends have started to notice, and sometimes mid-conversation one of them will just kind of smile and go "hi, Josh" or "hey, Ali." It's nice to have both sides acknowledged. I used to hide. In my late teens, through my 20s, and even a little into my 30s, I would work so hard to pass. To hide Josh from the world and not stand out. An ex-friend (when we still were friends lol) looked at me funny and called me a crossdresser; asked if I was gay. For one thing, those two things are not related. For another, no. I would much rather wear jeans, cut my hair off, walk around shirtless when it's hot out, be a guy... but I can't. My body is female. Worse, it's feminine. I've got doll-like, almost kittenish features, and as Ali that's great, but as Josh it's soul-crushing.

So for a while, I hid. I caked on makeup, styled my hair, wore the girliest clothes I owned, pitched my voice an entire octave higher, and was Miss Manners. Everything that screamed "girly" to me, to hide how very not girly I felt. The catch there, of course, is Ali outgrew the super femme stage by the age of like 12 and playing it up only made me more obvious to people who really knew me 😂 but I wasn't really thinking it through.

I looked in the mirror, and I saw someone else staring back at me. The disconnect was so complete, it was horrifying. But that someone else, that lost and lonely, broken girl? Well, I couldn't help me, but maybe I could help her. So it wasn't just to hide who I am, it was to give that girl something nice to come back to. All women are beautiful. All of them. It's just a matter of knowing how to carry oneself, which features to play up. When the disconnect goes away, I can't see as clearly. I just see all the flaws. Just the gross, fat loser who will never amount to anything. But when I feel disembodied, like I'm looking at someone else, I can see the pretty eyes, the perfectly shaped lips, the high cheekbones... I see a pretty girl who doesn't know she's pretty, and I want to make it better. I realize at this point it sounds like I'm contradicting the "no, I don't have DID" thing from earlier XD I don't know how else to describe the shit going on in my head, but it's not two identities. There's no loss of time, or blacking out. The only things that change now are the way I see my body, and apparently the way I speak, a little.

The same friend who asked if I have DID keeps half-joking that she gets gayer the older she gets. It finally hit me last time she said it that...yeah, me too. 😂 Only half the time, though. I went from always on the straighter end of pan to just... more and more into the D lmao. That used to be one of the signs that I'd switched. It's even how I explained it to my sister - "sometimes it's 'oooo Tom Hiddleston' and sometimes it's 'oooo Anne Hathaway.'" (this was like 4 years ago lol. I hadn't yet discovered just how unbelievably perfect Sebastian Stan is). I was always attracted to people regardless of gender, but with a strong leaning toward the opposite sex, if that makes any sense at all. Like, always into Tom and Anne, just Ali's more into Tom, and Josh is more into Anne. But for some reason, guys, I am getting gayer by the day lately lmao. I dunno if my tastes are shifting and I'm just more into dudes in general, or if I just keep discovering guys so undeniably, ridiculously hot that it just doesn't matter or what but... yeah. Fem or transmasc, doesn't matter. I'm always into Seb 😂

#life shit #rambling #hi i'm josh #still don't expect anyone to keep up #feel free to ignore

5 notes · View notes

nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 4 years

Note

“I don’t think footprints are supposed to go across the ceiling like that...”

(kind of a tie-in to this set when arthur isn’t a part of the crime friend group yet - emphasis on yet)

“Be careful,” Mystery had warned them before they went in through the window, as he settled down on the balcony of the adjoining building. “There’s something else in there. Like you, but not like you.”

It’s too cryptic to make any use of right now, so Vivi and Lewis had put it aside for the time being. They crept silently through the occupied parts of the building, moving in sync without ever speaking, Lewis taking point as he followed the path his deadbeats had scouted out for them. Slowly they navigated their way into the vaults, where not even guards were permitted, and then they were able to relax and walk more normally.

It’s Vivi who breaks the cold silence, in a soft voice. “What did Mystery mean, d’ya think? ‘Like you, but not like you’?”

“Dunno how I’m supposed to know that,” Lewis answers. “Why?”

“Because, um.” She clicks her tongue. “I don’t think footprints are supposed to go across the ceiling like that...”

He stops and looks over at her, and then follows her gaze up. As she’d said, there's a pattern of boot-prints faintly visible on the darkened ceiling, like someone had tracked soot across it.

“Like you, but...“ With gifts like yours, but- different. He looks around, turning slowly until he and Vivi are nearly back-to-back. “I... I don’t think we’re as alone as we thought.”

For a while they both survey their respective ends of the shadowy hallway silently. There are paths that branch off from both, impossible to see down from this angle. Another person could have slipped down any one, and could be waiting behind any of them...

Lewis feels, more than hears, Vivi’s breath hitch briefly, and he can’t resist spinning half around. The hall seems still, from what he can tell.

“What?”

“I-” she shakes her head. “I thought I saw something. Just for a second - a shadow on the wall... but, I think I must have imagined it.”

He glances back up at the ceiling, taking in the direction of the prints. “Well, whatever- whoever it is, I think they’re headed the same way we are. Maybe we should just... keep moving.”

“Is there an alternate path we can take?”

A shrug. “I... we didn’t scout that far. I didn’t think we’d need one.”

“If it comes to a fight-”

“It’s two-on-one, we’ll be fine.”

“I know you don’t like to...”

“I think I’ll survive. And I’m not letting someone run us off this job.”

She nods, and relaxes from the fighting stance she’s crouched into. The two proceed down the hall again, this time more warily than before, checking every doorway before they proceed past it. Lewis can tell Vivi’s mind isn’t entirely on her task, but he keeps quiet about it.

“Like you, but not... that’s a weird way to put it, don’t you think?” she says finally.

He’d been thinking the same thing, kind of. “I know. Everyone’s Gifts are different. If they really are just another Gifted thief... any difference doesn’t seem worth drawing attention to.”

“But Mystery could feel, even from that far away...” she trailed a hand along the wall briefly. “Their magic must be...”

“Maybe-” he stops. “Wait, shh- we’re almost there.”

He inches around the corner slowly, focusing again on moving without making a sound. There’s the vault door, just as the client had promised, and the deadbeat had reported. But with a couple notable differences.

The client had sworn, up and down, that the door would be left open for them - it’s a requirement for hiring them, no tricky locks, because they’re good at what they do but they just don’t have a clean way to get past complex mechanisms like that. So the intimidating door is supposed to be open - and yet there it is, looking solid and impenetrable and extremely locked.

There’s also someone in front of it - someone he might have missed if he wasn’t looking closely, because they seem to blur into the shadows in a way that can’t be natural. Their back is turned, and they seem to be fiddling with a small part of the locking mechanism.

Lewis pulls back around the corner and takes a deep breath.

Vivi has the good sense to speak in a whisper. “Well?”

“I... think I found the one leaving the footsteps,” he relays. “They’re right in front of the door. It isn’t open.”

Her nose wrinkles, mouth curving into a scowl, and she smacks the wall lightly. “God damnit, what the hell?” she mutters, barely keeping her voice low. “They get to it before us, and now they’re locking it up?”

“I don’t think it was ever open in the first place. I’m... pretty sure they’re still trying to get in.”

“Maybe... we’re early? They’re the one who’s supposed to open the door for us?”

“Why would they sneak all the way in here just to open it for some more thieves later?”

She groans. “So the guy who hired us just didn’t follow through. Unless...”

“What?”

“Maybe this is a trap.” She gestures at where the door is, through the wall. “They bait us with a nice easy job. Thief number three jumps us, and they get to turn us in for the reward money.”

“We were never supposed to get into that vault in the first place. That...” Makes perfect sense. “...would explain what they’re doing here.”

Neither of them speak for a moment, both looking out towards the hall, thinking the same thing.

“So... what do we do? Turn around and leave?” Lewis says finally.

“...no. I’m not leaving. Like you said, it’s two on one. And maybe we can capture them, and strip the vault clean while we’re at it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m up for it if you are.”

“Oh, finally,” says a third voice, making them both jump.

It’s light and hoarse and, much like the thief had looked, sounds only half there somehow. Sure enough, when they both snap their heads over, the thief is standing there. It’s the first time Lewis has seen them from the front, and now he notices their mask is carved into a pattern that looks like curling smoke, one eyehole lit with a pinprick of green light. They’re crouched in something that isn’t quite a fighting stance but still feels distinctly threatening.

“You’re outnumbered,” Vivi says, summoning her sword. “Make it easier on yourself and submit now.”

“I’ll give fighting a try, if it- if it’s all the s-same to you.”

Vivi needs no further encouragement to swing her sword, a surprise strike that takes care of half their enemies before the fight’s even properly begun.

But Green dodges, hopping back and up onto the wall as easily as if he was just taking a step back. He brings one hand up to the side of his face, and the one lit eyehole flashes, and Vivi’s follow-up is abruptly halted mid-swing as she stumbles back a couple steps.

Lewis realizes he doesn’t have time to be worried about her, and calls his own weapon forth, darting in at Green’s side. Once again, he jumps easily, now perched upside-down on the ceiling.

Meanwhile, Vivi shakes off the psychic attack, and snarls to give a warning that she’s back in the fight. “Not- good enough!” she shouts as soon as she finds her voice, and sends a hail of icicles towards him, which he shatters with a swipe of his own weapon - a long dagger.

There’s something about his fighting style that feels off, Lewis notes in the back of his mind. It takes him a moment to put it together, and then his gut twists. Blocking their attacks and dodging, but always moving back. He isn’t fighting to win - he’s just trying to escape.

Green’s dagger flashes in front of him as he blocks an attack, and without thinking Lewis catches the wrist in his own hand. Vivi takes the second of opportunity and lunges, knocking him back against the wall and pinning him there. In the dark, it takes him a moment to realize her sword’s pressed against his throat-

“Vivi, stop! We don’t want him dead!”

He sees Vivi’s posture shift a little, and both of them look over at him. He has no idea what Green’s thinking, but Vivi’s a mix of surprise and embarrassment. She eases off and gives a slight jerk of her head, silently indicating that Lewis should tie him up.

He tries his best to be gentle, though he knows the bindings burn. “Go for the vault. Then we’ll take the exit-”

An indistinct voice echoing down the hall quiets him, and he and Vivi dart a glance in its direction in unison.

“Shit, did someone hear us?”

“The- door’s open,” Green says, sounding half strangled.

Lewis looks to the vault door. “They must get an alert if someone leaves it...” he says as he realizes it.

“Shit,” Vivi repeats. “Okay, screw the vault, we gotta go, before we end up with a whole squad after us.”

He’s on her heels towards the hatch that had been promised as an exit - but a noise behind him makes him stop. Green’s backing up slowly, obviously straining against the flickering bonds, and oh, there’s no way he’s getting out of here before the guards arrive.

It’s surprisingly easy to scoop him up and keep running. It costs him a few seconds, and he hears shouting just as he’s at the hatch, but by the time gunfire peppers the walls he’s safely through the exit.

#characterdevelopementbutim #mystery skulls animated #the nemesis speaks #swift writes #its so damn late i should really save this to proofread but consider also: no #the saga of me fully ignoring the spirit of the prompt to fuck around with my own aus continues

21 notes · View notes

winryofresembool · 4 years

Text

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 24

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Halloween chapter, part 2.

A/N: Yay, an update! I think some of you are gonna be happy about the characters that are being introduced in this chapter... Also lots of Caleo dorkiness (and canon references) in it! And you'll get to see if you were right with your costume guesses :D

Also like I already mentioned last week, this is the last chapter that I have written so far (when I started posting this fic I tried to make sure I'd have at least 7 chapters ready so I wouldn't have to stress about deadlines... and here we are now) so it is possible that updates may slow down a bit, at least if the chapter wants to become long. But I am still /trying/ to keep up with the regular updates the best I can :) So worry not!

Now, enjoy and let me know what you think!! Ps. somehow we’ve managed to pass 50k words already :O

Words: 4040

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

“Hi, you guys!” Piper, who was dressed as Wonder Woman, greeted Leo and Calypso first when they arrived, gesturing for them to come in.

“Hello! I was afraid Argo II had decided to stop working because you guys are late,” Jason the Superman noted as he offered to take Calypso’s coat and put it in a hanger by the door.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Jason, that possibility did cross my mind as well,” Calypso said, casting Leo a meaningful look. “But no, not this time.”

“We’re only 10 minutes late!” Leo protested, checking the time from his phone. “I was busy finishing something… and Calypso took her time preparing herself as well. She probably did her wig for like two hours.” He gave her a not so serious side-eye.

“I did not!” Calypso said defensively. “Yeah, I straightened and combed and braided it but that took me maybe 15-20 minutes so he is highly exaggerating.”

“Don’t worry, Calypso, we know he does that a lot.” Piper smiled at her reassuringly. “Speaking of your wig, though, you look very cute! That hair reminds me of the style you had before my makeover. You’re dressed as the mythology Calypso, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Calypso said, pleased that Piper had figured that out so fast. “I thought it would be fun to be a bit self ironic for once. I haven’t really had a good reason to sew recently so this was a nice excuse to do that as well.” She made a small twirl to show the dress better.

“That dress really looks great!” Piper told her. “I would gladly commission you to sew me clothes; it’s so hard to find anything nice from the clothes stores these days. But Leo.” She turned back to him. “I see someone hasn’t bothered to get a costume. I wasn’t expecting that from you because you’re always so excited about them.”

“No, you got it all wrong.” Leo wagged his finger at her. “I do have it here, but as I told Cal, it would have been too difficult to wear in the car.” He dropped his bag on the floor, causing a loud thud as it hit the ground.

“Alright. Care to give us any hint what it is?” Piper asked curiously. “Seems heavy.” Calypso wondered if this was something they did every year.

“I’m just saying that it’s inspired by some movies that united us three,” Leo noted mysteriously. “But that’s all, you’ll see soon!”

“My mind is blank now,” Piper said. “Jason, what movies have we watched with him?”

“The first one that comes to my mind is Star Wars,” Jason reminded her. Suddenly both Jason and Piper’s eyes widened in realization. “Could it be?”

“Oh no, Leo you didn’t!” Piper doubled over in laughter when it occurred to her what Leo’s costume most likely was. “I can’t wait to see this!”

“I hope you took pictures with Festus!” Jason couldn’t keep his poker face either, and Calypso watched their reactions with confusion.

“Don’t worry, I will show them later.” Leo grinned, unperplexed by Jason and Piper’s laughter. “Now, where can I change?”

Piper showed him an empty room where he could get into his costume in peace, while Calypso started looking around the house on her own. Even though the place seemed rather fancy, Jason and Piper had managed to make it cozier with their personal objects. A lot of them had seen life and were worn but somehow they still fit in with the newer decorations.

As Calypso reached the living room, her focus went to the guests who had already arrived at the party. She waved at Annabeth and nodded awkwardly to Percy. Even though she and Annabeth were friends again, she wasn’t quite sure how she should act near Percy so ‘reserved’ felt the most natural reaction. She couldn’t help but smile a bit, though, when she registered their costumes: Annabeth had a Chiton just like her, although grey instead of white, with some silvery accessories and a beautiful owl shaped brooch over her chest. Perhaps the most impressive part of her costume was the Greek styled helmet that was used in battles and that hid most of Annabeth’s curly ponytail. Calypso was quite certain she was dressed as Athena, the Greek goddess that according to her was the one she identified herself the most with. Percy on the other hand was wearing sandals, shorts, a tropical shirt, and a belt with fishing equipment and he was holding a fishing rod in his hand. Calypso couldn’t quite figure out who he was supposed to be, other than some sort of fisherman.

“Hi,” Calypso greeted them as she got to hearing distance with them. “You guys look nice. You’re Athena, right?” She asked Annabeth. “Matches my theme, don’t you think?”

“Sure does,” Annabeth nodded, eyeing Calypso’s costume. “You look pretty much exactly like how I imagine the mythology Calypso.”

“Thank you. Coming from you it’s a big compliment.” She turned Percy. “I can’t figure out who you are, though. You don’t seem like a Greek god?”

“I am, though,” Percy replied. “I’m Poseidon.”

“Ooh, so that’s why the fishing gear!” Calypso realized. “But I don’t think the Greeks had tropical shirts quite yet.”

“No, you’re right in that.” Percy shook his head, smiling a bit. “But I’m basing this on the version in the Peter Johnson series. That’s how he was described in it.”

“I didn’t know you have read that too,” Calypso said, “But makes sense. Um, the Poseidon and Athena of the mythology hated each other, though. Not that it’s really my business, but I hope you two are doing fine…?” She asked a bit nervously, not wanting to be the reason for their issues.

“Oh yeah, we are,” Percy confirmed immediately. “It’s just an old joke – back when Annabeth and I were reading the Peter Johnson books I used to say Poseidon is my godly parent and Athena Annabeth’s, and that just kind of stuck with us.”

“Alright.” Calypso accepted Percy’s answer, turning her attention back to Annabeth. “By the way, where did you get that helmet? It definitely looks fancier than most of the plastic ones you see at costume shops.”

“My father collects these things,” Annabeth answered, lifting the helmet from her head for a moment. “I’ve told you he’s also a historian, right? Well, one of his friends wanted to make a replica of the ancient Greek helmets with some modern machines and dad bought this from him. I’m not saying this is 100 per cent accurate but it looks pretty cool, in my opinion.”

“It does,” Calypso confirmed.

“You came with Leo, right?” Percy asked then, to which Calypso nodded. “Where is he? I can’t wait to see his costume; he usually goes for something that is way over the top. Last year he was Hiccup from How to Train your Dragon and he had made a Toothless costume for his dog. I’ve also seen pics of him as Iron Man. Yes, with a full iron costume.”

“I can believe that of him,” Calypso chuckled, imagining Leo in the said costume. “He just went to change into his costume because apparently he couldn’t drive in it. He didn’t reveal what he was going to be, but it does sound like something extravagant.”

“I missed his costume last year but I’ll be sure to have a camera ready when he shows up this time,” Annabeth said happily. Calypso was relieved that the conversation was going this well; she hadn’t known what to expect beforehand because this was the first time she was in the same room with Percy since the ‘incident’. Talking with him now, though, made her realize that holding a grudge wouldn’t be smart and he seemed to think the same way.

“I just realized,” Calypso decided to change the topic, “that I’ve never heard the story of how you guys know Jason and Piper. So how did that happen?”

“It’s a funny story,” Percy started, smiling at the memory. “Jason and I used to be the captains of rivaling soccer teams when we were around 16. Well, one time Jason’s team was visiting us but we were playing in an arena that had just been renovated so I hadn’t been there before. I may have been a bit late from our team meeting and I was a bit lost so I decided to ask one staff lady where I was supposed to go. Somehow she got our teams mixed up and I ended up in the locker room of Jason’s team. Some of Jason’s teammates said that my expression was worth seeing when I realized the mistake but I dunno about that. The funny thing was that somehow the same thing had happened to Jason; he had also been late for the meeting because of traffic or something and he had gotten into my team’s locker room. Well, after the game we had a good laugh about it together and ended up talking about other stuff as well and noticed we have a lot in common. That’s how we became friends. When we moved into the same town, we started training together at least a few times a week.”

“Piper and I didn’t learn to know each other until Jason and she started dating a couple of years ago and they invited Percy to some party where I went with him. To be honest, I was a bit suspicious about her at first because we seemed very different but eventually we learned to respect each other’s qualities. And here we are,” Annabeth added.

“Those are some cool stories,” Calypso said. “It seems like a funny coincidence that somehow we all ended up in this city even though most of us are from somewhere else. Like Leo is from Texas, I am from Greece…” “Speaking of him,” Annabeth had to muffle his laughter with her hand, “I believe we are finally getting some answers about his costume.”

“Oh… my gods” was all Calypso could say when she turned to the direction Annabeth was looking at. “You’re really something else.”

Leo was completely hidden inside his costume, but Calypso could practically hear him grinning at their reactions. The costume looked very much like in the movies; golden (just painted, not real gold, because there was no way Leo could afford something like that) plating forming a droid with big round eyes and an ability to speak lots and lots of different languages: C-3PO from Star Wars.

“Holy shit, dude, that looks so real.” Percy gaped at Leo. “I’m starting to understand why you spent so much time in your room the past few weeks.”

“Why C-3PO, though?” Calypso asked once she managed to put her poker face back on. “Does that have some story behind it?”

“Because, duh, it looks cool!” Leo exclaimed with a mechanical voice from inside his costume. “I dunno, ever since I first saw C-3PO as a kid I thought it would be cool to be able to build something like that. And hey, his ability to translate like all the possible languages is pretty neat. Me? I just know 3.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable in there, though?” Calypso asked. “That thing must be heavy.”

“Sunshine, I’m always uncomfortable. But this was a childhood dream of mine so I sure as heck am not backing off now,” Leo said with determination.

“A stubborn one, aren’t you?” Calypso stated. “Even I have to admit, though, that you have certainly done some thorough job with it. Hey, I should take photos before I forget! You don’t get to see this every day.”

The others dug their phones up as well and for a while Leo just made silly poses while they took pictures, clearly enjoying the attention his costume got. Eventually he started demanding that Calypso should join him for the photos but she was a bit hesitant at first.

Leo argued: “Come on. Greek mythology meets Star Wars? You don’t see a crossover like that every day.”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose,” Calypso said and went next to him. “Well, do we have some kind of story for Calypso and C-3PO’s meeting?” she asked as Percy and Annabeth waved at them to look at the camera.

Leo considered her question for a moment. “Oh, how about this? C-3PO somehow ends up on Calypso’s island - because duh, Calypso is cursed so she can’t leave the island…”

“You seem to know surprisingly much about Greek mythology, just saying…” Calypso noted while trying to smile for the photos, resting her hand on the metallic shoulder.

“I told ya, Sunshine, you can blame tía Callida for that…” Leo reminded her. “Anyway, I imagine those two don’t really like each other at first because they’re so different but eventually they learn to respect each other’s skills; C-3PO can translate basically any language and Calypso is good at all kinds of handiworks, which is hard for a droid.”

“And? What happens after that?” Calypso asked curiously.

Leo considered it for a moment. “C-3PO doesn’t really wanna leave Calypso’s island but he has galaxies to save with his friend R2-D2 so he has to go but he promises to come get her afterwards.”

“Aw, Leo, that is kind of sweet,” Calypso commented, suddenly aware of the metal arm that had snuck around her waist. “Does he… does he ever return, though? Shouldn’t that be impossible?”

“For a human, maybe, but he’s a droid,” Leo noted. “Unfortunately during a big battle he blows up badly but the ever so faithful R2-D2 collects the pieces and finds someone who can rebuild him again. And boom, he makes it back and lives happily ever after with his goddess.”

“What’s the term you use when you enjoy a fictional relationship a lot?” Calypso asked. “Shipping?” Annabeth nodded at her. “I don’t know, Leo, to me it sounds like you ship those two. Isn’t that a bit weird?” “What, why would that be weird? I’ve seen people ship…”

“I see these two have gotten into a full on nerd mode again,” Annabeth said quietly to Percy while they were waiting for the flatmates to stop their bickering so they’d be able to take the photos. “Not projecting themselves into their characters, right?”

“No, definitely not,” Percy agreed.

Eventually Leo and Calypso stopped bickering and Annabeth was able to take the pictures. Even if Leo was mostly hidden by his costume, Calypso felt a bit self conscious about the fact that these were the first photos of them together. They did a few goofy poses because Annabeth and Percy told them to, but Calypso thought she probably looked more embarrassed than funny in them.

Once they were done, Leo went to Annabeth who was going through the photos and bowed his head a bit to see them better. “Hey, these do look pretty cool! It’s probably just the lighting but here you look like you’re blushing to some funny comment C-3PO made.”

“Show me!” Calypso yelped nervously and took the phone from Annabeth. When she saw it, she could immediately tell Leo was not wrong; she really was blushing. “Yeah, it’s definitely those candles in the background that do it… And I think it’s pretty warm in here, maybe all the people here heat this room…”

“OK, if you say so,” Leo said but Calypso imagined that he was looking at her suspiciously through his costume.

Trying to get the others’ attention to something else, she said: “So, who else has arrived so far?”

“Nico and Will. I think they went to get some snacks from the dining room,” Piper, who had just entered the room, answered.

“Leo told me that Nico is Jason’s relative, but what about Will?” Calypso asked her.

“Will is Nico’s boyfriend. This is the first time we’re meeting him but they seem very good together. At least he seems to have a grounding effect on Nico, and he actually listens to him, unlike most of us. Um, sorry, it’s a long story, one that I should probably save for another time. Nico may be a bit hard to approach sometimes but he is a very nice guy when you learn to know him. Just… been through a lot. I guess like many of us here. But he seems way happier now,” Piper said, and as if on cue, they could hear some distant laughter coming from the dining room.

“We should start a traumatized college kids’ club,” Leo attempted to joke, and the others hummed in agreement. Maybe she did belong to this group after all, Calypso thought. If only they knew, though…

“This just got cheerful,” Percy said, interrupting Calypso’s thought process. “Who’s up for blue candies? Get them before Will and Nico eat them all.”

“I heard that, Jackson!” Nico entered the room without a warning. “No offense to you or your mom but blue candies aren’t exactly my thing.”

“Hi, Nico,” Percy greeted him, seeming a bit flustered after Nico’s comment. “You haven’t met Calypso, right?” He pointed at her.

“No, I haven’t,” Nico took a quick look at her and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alright, in that case, this is Calypso Astal. And Calypso, this is Nico di Angelo,” Percy introduced them to each other.

“Nice to meet you,” Calypso approached him, but he seemed to evaluate her for a moment before he took her hand.

“Likewise,” Nico said finally. “I think Jason has mentioned you a few times.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” Calypso said a bit unsurely, like every time she met a new person. The lonely years still had a toll on her, and even though she liked spending time with her friends, meeting new people was always a bit nerve wracking to her. “You’re his relative, right?”

“A distant cousin,” Nico answered. “Yeah, our fathers are related, but I have my mother’s last name and Jason has his.”

“I take it your mother has roots elsewhere, based on the last name?” Calypso asked.

“She was Italian,” Nico shrugged. “I lived there my first years too. But now I can barely remember those times.”

Calypso noticed the use of past tense, but she thought it was probably better to not ask about that in the middle of a party. “Oh. I’ve been to Italy a few times. I’m originally from Greece.”

“What brought you here, then?” Nico asked.

“Dad’s work,” Calypso responded in a tone that told everyone she wouldn’t elaborate on that topic more. It seemed to have become a habit to her.

“Anyway,” Leo, who had managed to stay quiet for a surprisingly long amount of time in Calypso’s opinion, stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Nico, a little bird told me,” he looked at Jason, “that your boyfriend is a Star Wars geek. Is that true?”

Nico took one look at Leo’s costume and his mouth twitched when he realized why Leo was asking. “He is, but don’t let him get started on it, or else he will never stop. Besides, he’s not my boyfriend, I prefer calling him…”

“A significant nuisance?” Will showed up from the dining room, carrying a plate full of food. “Don’t mind him, he just warms up a bit slow.”

“Yes, this is Will,” Nico sighed, addressing those who hadn’t met them before. “Sometimes he’s a nuisance, sometimes he can be quite OK. When he’s having a good day.”

“Same back at you, dear,” Will laughed. “Did I hear someone mention Star Wars, though?”

“You did,” Leo said, stepping forward so Will could see his costume better. Needless to say, Will looked beyond thrilled.

“Oh boy, here we go again,” Nico said quietly before Will even had time to comment on the costume.

“Woah, that must be the best C-3PO costume I’ve seen. And yeah, I’ve seen a few so I don’t compliment you for nothing,” Will assured.

“Thanks, man, I did spend quite a while with it,” Leo said, high fiving Will. “Glad someone here appreciates good things.”

“I still hope you’re not one of those fans who have only seen the most recent movies and not the originals,” Will noted.

“Heck, no!” Leo exclaimed immediately. “The original three for the win! Mom and I used to watch them a lot… um, when I was little. She was a big fan. But the newer ones just don’t feel the same.” Calypso had a feeling Leo had almost said something else, but he had changed his phrasing at the last moment.

“You have a pretty good taste,” Will said approvingly. Then he finally realized he hadn’t even asked Leo and Calypso’s names before getting into the geek mode.

“So, who are you two? I already met Percy and Annabeth earlier but I don’t think I know you guys yet.”

“I’m Leo Valdez, and this is my, um, flatmate, Calypso Astal,” Leo introduced. Calypso hoped there was a better word to describe their relationship than a ‘flatmate’ but at the moment it was probably the best and the safest option there was.

“Flatmates, huh?” Will repeated. “How did that happen?”

“I was in a hurry to find a roof over my head so I put in the application that I also accept mixed flats,” Calypso replied. “I didn’t meet Leo beforehand because, um, that would have been a bit difficult to arrange in this case, but it worked out OK.” Calypso noticed Leo was looking at her from the corner of his eye, and she realized she had never even talked about that option before. The truth was that she had had to plan her leaving very thoroughly so her father wouldn’t notice and she had driven to Indianapolis as fast as possible, with no time for second guessing.

“And my flat happened to have a room free because our boy Jason decided to move in with Beauty Queen,” Leo added to that story. “It’s really no stranger than that.”

“Oh, right, someone must have mentioned that you and Jason used to be flatmates,” Will recalled. “I just didn’t connect the dots.”

Jason had apparently finished welcoming the rest of the guests because he joined the group in the living room. “That reminds me, I don’t think I’ve asked you, Calypso, if Leo still leaves his dishes undone and if he has empty milk cartons in the fridge.”

“He used to do that?” Calypso asked with amusement. “After seeing his room that’s not so hard to picture, but no, he’s been pretty tidy in the common area. Although one time he bribed me to do his dishes for him in exchange for some of his food.”

“It was a good deal!” Leo protested. “You didn’t have to cook and you also got to taste some Valdez’ sizzling hot quesadillas so I’d say it was a win-win. Besides, you didn’t seem to have anything against that.”

“Alright, I will admit the quesadillas were pretty good,” Calypso conceded. “But a true gentleman offers them without even asking. Well, other than that he’s been OK,” she told Jason with a playful twinkle in her eye.

“I guess he really is able to change his habits, then,” he replied. “At least when the flatmate is someone he...”

Before Jason had time to finish his sentence, Leo intervened: “Folks, do we really have to be talking about my cleaning habits in front of people I don’t know? The first impressions are important, especially when it comes to Supersized McShizzle!”

“We’re just being honest, Repair Boy.” Calypso couldn’t resist booping his metal covered nose. Apparently she just didn’t know how to not cross the line with this boy, she sighed in her mind.

“Is that all? Where’s the feisty Sunshine I know?,” Leo said in a low tone, so the others could barely hear his comment, coming out almost flirty.

“Shut up,” Calypso answered equally quietly but held her gaze at him.

“Ahem,” they suddenly heard Piper’s voice behind them. “In case you’ve stopped with the flirting, I’d like you to meet a couple of people.”

Calypso turned to see the newcomers and as she recognized the Hunter badges both of them had attached to their shirts, something in her mind just suddenly turned off.

#caleo #leo valdez #calypso #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians #trials of apollo #my fics #caleo uni au

17 notes · View notes