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simplybakugou · 4 years

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Sweet Summer Day

↝ Once you finally managed to go on a trip to the beach with your girlfriend, things started looking a little hazy as you had to chase away some boys pestering her.

BINGO SPACE: Summer Vacation

⋆ PAIRING: yaoyorozu x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: flufff; swearing; creepy boys 🤮 ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1542

A/N: this is another piece for the @bnhabookclub bingo event! momo owns my whole heart so obviously this was fun to write even though its a little shitty :(. thank you to @merry-kuroo for requesting momo for this prompt! the momo transparent cap is from the bnha bookclub google drive!

also yes the title is named after a TWICE track lmao. thank you @bnhatrashh, the resident ONCE, for recommending me this BOP 💕

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.21.2020✐

It was the perfect day with your windows rolled down and the breeze ruffling through your hair. The radio was blasting your favorite song and while you were screeching along with the lyrics, your beautiful girlfriend who was practically flawless in every single way possible was sitting beside you as she hummed with the lyrics, making up for the chaos you were creating. Occasionally you would stop singing, wanting to hear Yaoyorozu’s soft voice that sounded like the gates to heaven opening with an angelic choir whisking you up to the sky but everytime she realized you stopped, she would stop singing as well, not wanting to be the only voice heard in the small space of your car.

It was an exciting day, one that you had been looking forward to for weeks since you found out that it was actually happening.

You, Yaoyorozu, and the rest of class A were finally on your way to becoming third years, your final year at U.A. High. Unlike every other summer, you wanted to do something fun. Usually you spent your summer breaks training and preparing for the next semester. Since you and Yaoyorozu had been dating your first year, you would often accompany her and help her study to strengthen her quirk and as much as you loved helping her out as much as you could, you wanted to spend your last summer as a high schooler with the one girl you loved and while having some fun at the same time.

You managed to convince Yaoyorozu to go on a little trip and spend some quality time with her to which she agreed to. Although she did suggest inviting the other girls, you wanted to be around your girlfriend and take this trip as a date with her and as much as you loved your friends, it was fun to go out with her on your own.

“Is that it?” Yaoyorozu asked, her eyes gleaming in fascination at the sight of the beach ahead of you.

You nodded, grinning at the sea sparkling from the sun’s rays, the sound of the seagulls squawking at people for food, and the many people hanging around the waves and the beachside under the sun. You parked the car, exiting the vehicle and immediately unloading your things as you couldn’t wait to feel the sand beneath your toes.

Yaoyorozu assisted you as you both walked onto the beach with two chairs, towels, and any other belongings you deemed as necessary. You were quick to set up the chairs, taking your shirt and bottoms off as you were clad in your swimwear as Yaoyorozu followed suit.

Yaoyorozu sat down on one of the chairs that you finished setting up, sighing as she slipped her sunglasses on as she was basking under the sun. How was this girl so stunning?

“There’s a shop down there; do you want me to get you anything?” You asked her as you pointed to the small shop right towards the outer part of the beach.

Yaoyorozu nodded, telling you she just wanted something light to eat since it had been a long drive to get there and neither of you had eaten anything. With what you and Yaoyorozu wanted to get in mind, you proceeded towards the shop, ready to fill your stomach with cheap food to fill your empty stomach.

While you were away and Yaoyorozu finally felt relaxed under the sun, feeling the stress already be alleviated as she sat there. Her short period of solace was cut short as a pair of teenage boys, who looked around her age, approached her. She removed her glasses, peering up at the boys curiously. “May I help you?”

The first boy sat down on the sand, smirking at her. “You seemed lonely over here so hopefully we can change that.”

“Um, actually I’m fine here, thank you,” Yaoyorozu said, laughing uncomfortably.

“Aw, come on, don’t make this weird,” the other boy cackled, rubbing his hands together. “Why don’t we help you out? You need someone to rub some sunscreen on for you?”

Yaoyorozu shook her head, visibly distraught from the pryful boys and how disturbing and intrusive their behavior was.

“Wait a second,” the first boy started, eyes widening excitedly before his friend could say anything. “You’re that chick from U.A.!”

“Oh shit, you’re right!” The other boy exclaimed. “No wonder you’re so hot. All the U.A. chicks are hot.”

At this moment you had thanked the cashier for the snacks as you paid for them, swinging the bag happily as you made your way back to Yaoyorozu. Expecting to still see her sitting down peacefully as she took some well deserved rest, you were granted with the sight of the two boys pestering her and hovering over her. She seemed uneasy as she tried to distance herself as best as she could from the boys even though they kept scooting closer and closer to her.

You sighed, already used to little creeps like Mineta harassing her at school and you and the other girls didn’t hesitate to put the little twerp in place. Fortunately you had a quirk that helped you maneuver the ground, no matter the material involved. Using your quirk, you created a barrier between the boys and Yaoyorozu, using said barrier to forcefully push them away from her. They rolled in opposite directions and Yaoyorozu met your eyes in gratitude.

“Hey, dipshits!” You called out to them, turning your head side to side so they both heard you. “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend, you fucking creeps.”

The first boy stood up, aggravated and embarrassed that a girl had humiliated him in front of the girl he was poorly attempting to swoon. He strode towards you, standing right in front of you. “You trying to start something?”

“And what if I am?” You retorted, raising a brow at him.

Before the situation could escalate any further, Yaoyorozu pulled you away from him, not wanting you to be involved with something that could make you look bad online as you were already known for your abrasive behavior especially as a U.A. student. “We’ll be going now.”

As you both began walking along the shore, you peered over your shoulder, making sure the boys weren’t following you two. One of them started cursing you out from afar and you flipped them off in response and then you looked over to Yaoyorozu. “Why’d you pull me away?”

“I didn’t want you to get in a fight,” she said simply.

You scoffed. “Please, those assholes were bothering you, they needed a punch or two to the fucking head to humble them.”

Yaoyorozu giggled and you smiled at the sound. Although she never wanted to make you worry, whenever she was catcalled in this manner, she always felt down and upset with herself for something that other people do. She was a strong girl, you knew that better than anyone else, but when a boy calls her out and tries to hit on her, it’s different than a bunch of high school students being attacked by a group of villains. Yaoyorozu often felt disgusted with the boys’ behaviors, these two twerps and Mineta alike, but it put her in a vulnerable position during these situations, making her not know what to do at times.

That is until she met you. You and the other class A girls didn’t hesitate to put any pervish boy in place, no matter who it was. You weren’t afraid to beat anyone for even making your girlfriend upset and you would take action in a heartbeat.

And with you by her side, you made her feel confident, helped her realize how much of an outstanding girl she really is.

Yaoyorozu latched her arm with yours, smiling softly at you. “Should we continue where we left off before we were rudely interrupted?”

You nodded with the biggest grin on your face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

From there you ran directly into the crashing and raging waves, all while hand in hand with Yaoyorozu. The water cooled you down from the sun beaming down on both of you. You did whatever you could to make Yaoyorozu forget the two little brats who dared to make her frown. From building sandcastles to finding the prettiest shells in the depths of the sand, it was overall one of the most fun times you had in a while.

It was easy to forget that you were teenagers when you were treated like adults by your high school as you were put into difficult and dangerous situations once being attacked by the League of Villains numerous times. But times like these made it all better, or you could at least try to think that it made it better. You and Yaoyorozu made sure to spend the day doing every single activity that not only brought you joy but also made you both feel like your age for once.

Although the day started off a little rocky, thanks to your efforts in order to bring that angelic, pure, and loving smile onto her face, Yaoyorozu was able to have the best sweet summer day of her life.

If you’d like to be added to my taglist, please join here!

Taglist: @pinkcowgirleggpanda @xtsundere-princess @wesparklebitch @hot-pocket01 @iamthe-leaf @ahrininetales @kirisclementine @happygalaxymilkshake @hookedinto-fictionalworlds @entraptas-kid-sister @mirakeul @thatpeachybandgirl @iambashfulperson

#momo yaoyorozu x reader #yaoyorozu x reader #momo x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #momo yaoyorozu #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagines #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines

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big-tiddie-squad · 4 years

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My Cafe Date With U

@twancingyunhoe good morning sunshine! I love youuuu heres my first fluff just for you! 🥰🥰🥰

All inner thoughts are represented by ~~

Yourname365 has joined THE WORLD.

You see your user name floating in front of your eyes, excited to finally be able to play with the new VR system.

You’d been hoping to win the mini competition the nearby store had been hosting, in hopes to be the first to experience it. Well, the first “regular” person, .... and to get away from the real world for a little while, and the voice that keeps you down.

~Stupid and childish to play such a little game. What a waste of time.~

Please... not now.

Its been oppen to the rich and various celebrities across the globe for several months now. But that doesn’t matter. You’re just excited to escape. You’d heard that you can use the sensory pads to actually feel things in The World. There’s even a small ox of tablets that allow you to TASTE the foods in this virtual world.

~POINTLESS.~

You look down at your hands. Everything looks so real. You’d made your in-world self similar to how you look in the real world. When it becomes open to the rest of the real world, you wanted your friends to recognize you easily. Though... technically you could have made yourself into a small faerie like creature with cat ears and a tail and they’d probably assume its you.

~Everyone hates you. You have no friends. Those people just feel sorry for you~

I...I know.....

You look around The World and are awestruck. You’re in the middle of a small city. The roads are made with different shades of red brick and the trees offer the perfect ration of sunlight to shade. There’s 2 or 3 cafes with a few celebrities and other famous people you never would have thought you’d see here.

Everything is so bright and it warms you almost as if it was real sunlight. You’re glad you chose to use the sensory pads on the first trip here. The trees sway slightly and a light breeze caresses your bare arms. Your old t-shirt and pj pants were replaced with a nicer shirt and a pair of leggings.

“I wonder what all I can do? ....Is it appropriate to just walk up to famous people here and ask? No.... no I won’t bother them. Maybe there’s a starter guide in the menu?” You say to yourself. “Let’s see,” you somehow manage to open the menu, which is a great start, and begin walking to the nearest cafe that you had seen. The menu blocks most of your view but you have a pretty good memory and you continue to walk as you search for a guide. “Inventory? No. Settings? No.... hmmm...oof!” You slam into something solid.

“ SORRY! Sorry!” You repeat and bow, panicking as you realize you can’t figure out how to close the menu now.

~Here we go again... Once a moron always a moron~

Please stop.

“I’m so sorry this menu blocks my whole view! I can’t figure out how to close it... I’m so so so sorry!” You feel hands on your arms, steadying you and keeping you from bowing anymore. “Hey, it’s ok haha. No harm done just take a deep breath.” A wonderful voice says, exuding nothing but kindness and understanding. It sounds so familiar....

“Just twitch your right pinky finger, it opens and closes the menu.” The man explains calmly. You try it.... and it works. You keep your eyes down, then go to bow again and thank the person and again he keeps you from bowing again. You can’t bring yourself to look up at him. To look at which famous person you embarrassed yourself in front of, your FIRST TIME here in The World.

~STUPID STUPID STUPID~

please....

~How could you have been so STUPID.~

You should have just looked at the instructions.

~What an idiot there you go again making a fool of yourself. PATHETIC.~

Your eyes water at the intrusive thoughts. You notice your body starting to shake. Your breath is becoming more and more uneven. You feel like the heat is being sucked out of you.

A panic attack.

The man in front of your notices and speaks but it sounds like he’s underwater. Like YOU’RE underwater.

~It’s hopeless.~

You feel him guide you and pull you down... into a chair. He moves his hands slowly down to your hands and holds them both. You’re shaking like a leaf. Unable to speak or focus much. And then you hear a muffled tune. The thumbs of the strangers hands both rub small circles on yours and occasionally apply a little pressure and the circles continue again. The combination of both the muffled tune and the circles being rubbed onto your hand provide something for you to focus on.

You feel yourself calming down from the attack after a few minutes and the muffled tune breaks through to a lovely voice.

“-hangsang nae gyeote meomulieo jwo-”

You recognize the words... that voice... you stare at his hands. His strong hands. Ones you’ve gushed over before. Tentatively, you look up. Up into the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen.

Your heart kick starts.

Yunho....

You stare, dumbfounded as he quietly cuts off before the next verse. “Better now?” His worrying eyes take in every feature on your face and suddenly you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and along your neck. “Y--yes. Thank you....” You manage to fumble out. He smiles softly and then chuckles seeing the tinge of red. It’s like everything brightens more with his smile and laughter. “ I’ll go grab you something to eat and drink... I know it’s fake but who doesn’t like food?” He leaves you to go inside the building you’re both by.

You realize now that he has sat you down at a cafe and you look around taking the beauty of it. You stare at the pretty little bouquet of Dahlias sitting in the middle of your table. Yunho returns with 2 hot teas and a large slice of tiramisu.

“...I hope you like tea and tiramisu.... I forgot to ask. It’s ok if you don’t though, I can go get something else for you.” He rambles a little all while holding two small forks.

You smile and laugh. “I love tiramisu and tea. For that matter I love both hot and cold tea. But uh... what’s with the tiny forks?” You ask curiously.

He shyly smiles as you take one. “ I think they’re cute. Honestly, I think all small things are cute.” He looks you in the eye and clears his throat before looking at the cake. “Hope you don’t mind sharing.” He smiles and digs in taking a comedic sized scoop of the cake and shoveling it into his mouth. You laugh and eat some yourself. The flavor explodes in your mouth and you could almost actually believe you're actually sitting with Yunho eating cake. THE YUNHO!

“You’re... You’re Yunho, right? You’re in Ateez?” You question. He stops eating and you see a little powdered espresso on his lips before he swipes his tongue across it and licks it clean. "You’ve heard of us?” He looks so proud. “Of course I love your guys’ music! You’re all extremely talented!” You gush before becoming shy again.

~Don’t be any weirder than you already are. He’s only being nice because you had a panic attack.~

Shut up.

“Thank you! It’s always nice to hear from a fan. ...and such a pretty one at that.” He beams.

~He’s lying.~

SHUTUP.

~He’s supposed to be nice to all-~

SHUTUP. Just... let me be happy for one moment...

Just one single moment.

~.......................~

Yunho reaches across the table towards you and brushes a tear off your face. When did that happen? “Are you okay?” He asks, voice filled with concerned. “Why are you crying?” You wipe the tears that follow in the first ones place... you feel you can tell him...it’s not like you’ll see him ever again anyways right? “I have.... I have intrusive thoughts. It’s like my subconscious always has something mean or hateful to add. I keep having the thoughts lately. Sometimes it feels like its just me and that tiny hateful little voice in the back of my mind. It makes me feel stupid and worthless....” you trail off... you’re talking to much again... the voice always said you talked to much.

Yunho is staring at you... eyebrows scrunched and frown on his perfect face. He stands up and walks over to you. Then turns your chair so that you face him and then pulls you up and out of it. He wraps you in a hug, strong arms incasing you and rests his chin on your head. “Tell that voice, that Yunho said to be quiet and leave you alone. I don’t want you to ever think that way about yourself. If you do, I want you to come straight to me. I know we don’t know each other well but if you feel down I’ll be waiting here for you. You’re a perfect, beautiful human being and you deserve to see yourself and treat yourself as one. So tell that voice to go away and never come back. Okay?”

You stand there... shocked. Unable to produce anymore tears and the feeling of copious amounts of kindness and love radiating from him and the words he’s just said.

I deserve to see and treat myself as a a perfect, beautiful human being.

You nod your head and after several minutes, something that sounds like a ringtone goes off. Yunho releases you and his eyes seem to stare off into the distance before he blinks and looks back down at you. “ That was my phone going off. Unfortunately, i have to go to practice now. It was nice meeting you-... oh wow I’m so sorry I never asked you for your name?”

You smile. “It’s y/n. go on, don’t let me hold you up. Wouldn’t want you to be late for practice.”

He smiles widely, “ Can-... can we meet here tomorrow again? Around 2? If you aren’t busy of course. I want to talk to you more. We can talk about whatever you like. Your day, your life, your likes/dislikes, or your feelings? Whatever you want.” He looks hopeful and anxious, pulling at the bottom of his shirt.

“Sure.” You say filled with more confidence than you ever thought you could muster. In less than an hour, he helped give you back some of your confidence. He helped you realize you were more than that little voice said you were.

That’s how you met him. That’s why you meet up several times a week in a virtual world now. Why you both want to meet up in the real world now. That’s how these cafe dates with HIM started.

#ateez fluff #roommates #for my roommate #ateez yunho #ateez fic #not a fluff writer #not even a writer #i hope it's okay #it's a little after 3 am #intrusive thoughts #depression #cafe

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yesloverboy · 5 years

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Neighborly (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader) Part 3

SUMMARY: Mötley Crüe has two shows this weekend, and you’ve agreed to help your intrusive neighbor, Tommy, do his makeup properly for both. Despite how it might look to the rest of the world, you see yours and Tommy’s relationship as a really fast-developing friendship. However, as Friday draws closer, it starts to become more evident that your relationship with Tommy is headed in a different direction.

word count: 5,191

[Warnings: swearing, mention of injury, vomit, body image, drug and alcohol mention– oh and lots of fluffy goodness.]

NOTE: I hope y’all like fluff, because I’m coming to rot all of your gorgeous teeth right out of your skull. The real question is: will the fluff last forever? I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. As always, thank you so much for give this series a little bit of time out of your day. I’m considering doing imagines/headcanons for The Dirt boys in between chapters, so if that’s something you’re interested in feel free to submit your ideas/requests! I also have anon asks turned on again just in case that’s more your thing. Love y’all!

p.s. I am so sorry this is so fucking long, I don’t know what came over me.

tags: @kwyloz, @scarecrowmax, @lavendersoundbarrier, @stevenandsam, @totallynotkaibiased, @rogertaylur, @fatheadtheroger, @secretly-a-groupie

As the week went by, you were surprised to find Tommy was actually staying out of your hair– well, at least for the most part. No matter what you thought you expected from Tommy, he always seemed to do things in his own, weird way. Just a day after dropping off donuts at your place, Tommy’s weirdness decided to manifest itself yet again. Only this time, he wasn’t necessarily around to inflict it.

That Tuesday afternoon, you returned home from touring your new college to find something sitting right outside your front door. From where you were standing, it appeared to be an old jar of some kind with pink blossoms peeking out from the top. Upon closer inspection, you realized that the jar didn’t just contain flowers, but a flowering cactus. The little cactus was planted firmly inside of the jar with rocks and dirt, as if it was meant to be some kind of terrarium. You picked the jar up with tender fingers, finding yourself still completely uncertain of its purpose outside of your door. Just as you lifted it up off the mat, a crumpled piece of notebook paper fluttered to the ground beneath it, resting at your feet like an autumn leaf.

Unfurling the paper, you realized that it was a handwritten note from none other than your seemingly over-attached neighbor. It struck you as odd that Tommy would be the type to leave his neighbor a handwritten letter– your mind momentarily forgetting that you really didn’t know all that much about him.

Y/N,

Mick also reminded me that people usually like to receive housewarming gifts when they move into new places. He suggested flowers, but I saw this little thing and figured it was more your style.

Although, I can’t promise it’ll make your house any warmer.

– T.

You could feel yourself beaming at the note in your hands. There was something utterly endearing about the thought of Tommy fumbling around with a cactus in hand just for your sake.

Damn, Tommy still must really feel bad about the other night, just thinking about Tommy feeling guilty made you frown. Honestly, you wished he wasn’t taking the whole incident so seriously. Sure, it was definitely a weird start to your L.A. journey, but it also wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened. Besides, there was a good chance he would go down in the history book of your life as your first L.A. friend, and that mattered to you.

As happy as you were to feel like Tommy was becoming something close to a friend, it also struck you as odd that you hadn’t run into any of the other Crüe boys yet. You kind of met Mick, but you hardly regarded having your soul stared into by a total stranger as a proper introduction. If the others were anything like Mick, just thinking about running into Tommy’s bandmates would be enough to make your stomach turn a little. A small part of you hoped that Tommy already told his band about you after the incident with his hand. If this ended up being the case, maybe the merry band of rowdy rock stars beneath your feet would be willing to go easy on you.

Little did you know, you wouldn’t have to wait so long to find out.

Friday creeps up on you much faster than you originally anticipated. Since Tommy left the cactus on your doorstep, you hadn’t seen much of him around. Eventually, you attributed that to the screeching sounds of heavy metal rattling the floorboards under your feet. It started sometime on Wednesday evening, and eventually bled into all of Thursday.

Sure, the sound of Mötley Crüe rehearsing their set downstairs was disruptive, but they thankfully never decided to take their playing late into the night. During the day, however, was a completely different situation.

In order to find some kind of escape from all the commotion, you had spent the last few days driving around and getting to know the area. Each passing hour, you found yourself falling more and more in love with the rows of palms decorating the streets, each one reminding you of just how far you’d come. In the truck you always rode with your windows down, gladly welcoming the salty breeze as it tangled into your hair. Your mind would wander between the rays of sunshine on your skin, and you would think about all the possibilities in front of you; ranging from anything between going to a new college in the fall and the cute neighbor that you can’t seem to keep out of your head, or apartment. You always dismissed those thoughts soon after, knowing that they probably weren’t all that realistic.

After yet another prolonged drive and a trip to the drugstore, you return to your apartment to prep for Tommy’s inevitable visit later that evening. You knew he most likely wouldn’t have minded if you used some of your own makeup on him, but figured he could at least use some new eyeliner for when he’d eventually have to do it himself.

Rummaging around your apartment, you start gathering an inventory of any makeup products you have. For the most part, it had been all neatly tucked away in an old makeup tote you’d had since high school. However, because you’re still freshly moved in, you end up rooting around through old boxes just in case. As you check the last of the boxes, you notice they have all but formed a cardboard tower in your living room over the past week. Deciding that the mess is getting out of hand, you think it’s probably time to make a run to the dumpster out back.

Arms teeming with torn and deconstructed boxes, you step into the sweltering heat and out to the back of the building. As you approach the dumpster, a flash of shadowy movement catches your eye. From what you can tell, there seems to be someone lingering over by the back entrance to the apartment building’s mailroom. Not thinking much of it, you continue to chuck boxes into the gaping mouth of the dumpster. The way you figure it, a mysterious figure hanging out behind the building in broad daylight was the least of your worries.

As you turn to leave, a man with a mane of fluffy blonde hair steps out from behind the wall, propping himself comfortably against the bricks. His tan skin appears almost golden in the sunlight as his slightly effeminate figure bends confidently to the side. There’s something about him that you find uniquely beautiful, and the more his eyes bore into yours, the more you felt like you were observing some kind of predatory feline rather than a person. You personally don’t find him attractive, but you can’t deny that something about his presence feels magnetic.

Deciding to break the silence, you speak first, “Uh, hey there, man. You live here?”

He doesn’t answer you immediately, and pulls a pack of cigarettes out from the back pocket of his jeans instead. Pulling one out using only his teeth, he tilts the pack in your direction, his eyebrow quirking as if to ask; want one?

Usually, you weren’t all that much of a smoker. However, you always seemed to find yourself unable to resist one when offered. It was almost like some form of social ritual that you couldn’t quite shake, especially if it had been a long day.

Aw, fuck it. You take a few steps closer, and pull a cigarette from the pack. It rests comfortably on your lips as you wait for the man to light his own. He passes the lighter to you, and you take it with a mumbled thank you in his direction. The sparkwheel turns with ease under your calloused thumb as you breathe in deeply, lungs filling with smoke.

“Yeah I live here, right up on the third floor,” the man finally replies, taking his lighter back from your open palm.

Your eyes widen with the realization that the guy in front of you is none other than one of Tommy’s bandmates. Honestly, you feel a little silly for not immediately making the connection, but lately your mind has been in another place entirely.

“Wait so you know Tommy?”

The man laughs mockingly, “Of course I know that idiot. Kid’s a total terror–and just so happens to be my drummer.” He takes another drag of his cigarette, smirking at you knowingly. “Wait a sec–you’re that girl on the fourth floor, aren’t you?”

Your chest tightens at the knowledge that Tommy had clearly mentioned you before. Deep down you should feel flattered, but on the other hand, god only knows what he had said about you.

“Yep, that would be me,” you admit, silently praying he wouldn’t pry any further. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I already knew that,” he extends a hand to you, “Vince. Nice to finally meet you.”

You take his hand and shake it, wishing more than anything you could wipe the shit-eating grin off of his face. To your knowledge, you and Tommy were just friends, barely, and here this guy was acting as if he knew something you didn’t.

“Well, thanks for letting me bum a cig, Vince, but I gotta get going,” you take one last puff before letting the cigarette fall lamely to the ground, grinding it into the asphalt with the toe of your boot. It was getting increasingly more difficult to hide your frustration from Vince and you’d much rather be back inside your apartment.

Just as you’re about to turn away, Vince stops you.

“Wait, Y/N! You should really come see us play, I know Tommy would love it.”

When you look at Vince, it seems as though he’s dropped his act a little. The smirk on his face has faded into something softer, and for a moment he seems genuine. You open your mouth to speak, but Vince interrupts you.

“You’re all he talks about, you know.”

For a moment, it feels as though your heart might stop. He talks about me? Honestly, you hadn’t expected Tommy to talk about you in any context other than helping you move and injuring his hand. You manage to keep yourself composed in front of Vince, but on the inside your thoughts are swimming giddily. Although, you’re fairly certain Vince is talking about Tommy, your self-doubt forces you to make sure.

“Who?” You ask, playing dumb. Knowing full well it’s an utterly ridiculous question, you brace yourself for Vince’s reply.

Vince only rolls his eyes as if what you asked was just the same shit, different day. “Tommy, of course,” he huffs. “Jesus, if you’re that fucking stupid I’m sure the two of you are made for each other.”

This time, when the giddy feelings return you let them have free reign. “Well, Vince it was real nice meeting you,” you say, a smile suddenly engraved onto your face. “Make sure my friend Tommy comes over around 7:30. Okay?”

In any other instance, you wouldn’t have allowed some guy you had just met to call you stupid and keep his teeth intact– but today could be an exception. Besides, you couldn’t really deny the fact that you’d set yourself up for it.

Long after you had retreated back to your apartment, you found that Vince’s words were still echoing through your skull.

“You’re all he talks about, you know.”

Despite the fact that Vince lives with Tommy, your skeptical side can’t help but wonder if he was just messing with you earlier. Aside from Tommy drunkenly proclaiming your “beauty”, you really didn’t have much evidence to believe that Tommy would be that fixated on you. Although, you had to admit that Vince seemed pretty earnest when he mentioned it. No one could be that good at acting, could they?

With all this thought about Tommy, you’re horrified to realize that maybe your casual crush was becoming something a little bit more. Something a lot less manageable. Sure you’ve had casual crushes on guys before, everyone does. Whether it was a nice cashier at the supermarket, or an impressively smart teaching assistant– the small crush would be there for a minute and gone in a flash.

Somehow, Tommy was different. Everything about him that should annoy you didn’t, and the thought seeing him was always nestled comfortably in your mind. No one has left an impression on your life quite like he had, and that was worrisome to you. What if he’s just a nice guy? There was always the possibility that he really was just being friendly, and you and the rest of the world were just mistaken.

Trying not to dwell on the matter any longer, you busy yourself with a pot of coffee and flip on the radio. You had just been able to tweak the radio antenna enough to get some kind of signal, when a knock sounded at your door.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s Tommy!”

Glancing over at the clock on the wall, you notice it’s only 7:12pm. He’s early, you think, a smile roseying your cheeks.

Tommy knocks again, growing impatient. “Ya know, for the makeup stuff!”

Chuckling, you open the door to see Tommy’s grinning face lighting up the doorframe. Rather than his usually short tee, or ratty tank top and jeans, he’s wearing tight leather pants and a short-sleeved mesh top. You notice his top is secured to his chest with some kind of harness that resembles both a dog collar and a seatbelt; it was like nothing you’d ever seen before.

“You’re early,” you comment, stepping aside so he can walk past you.

“Oh, sorry about that, dude,” he lightly punches your shoulder in a playful manner, “I just couldn’t wait any longer. We finished setting up at the venue early and I’ve been bored to death.”

“Thanks for the gift, by the way,” you remark, suddenly remembering the little cactus Tommy left on your doorstep on Tuesday.

Tommy perks up, practically bouncing on his heels in excitement. “Wait did you really like it? The damn thing ended up giving me five splinters, but it was so worth it.”

“I love it,” you said earnestly, “it’s actually been sitting on my windowsill since I brought it in.” You point to your open bedroom door where the little jar can be seen soaking up the sunlight.

“Right on!” You suppress a giggle as Tommy actually pumps his fist excitedly. There isn’t a single person on the planet that you’ve seen express their joy so openly and eagerly as Tommy does. He was like a puppy, in a way; just stoked on everything and happy to be alive.

Tommy eventually flops onto a chair at your dining table, obviously drawn to the pile of makeup you had been accumulating for tonight. He picks up a bottle of foundation and shakes it, all the while holding it up to his ear like he’s expecting to hear the ocean.

“Is this all for me?”

You take the bottle out of his hand and place it firmly on the table. “Well some of it is,” you remark poignantly and gesture to a small paper bag next to your tote of makeup. “This is what I got for you, but we’re also going to play around with some of mine, okay?”

Tommy’s enthusiasm is unshakable. “Righteous!”

You can’t help but love how enthusiastic Tommy is about doing his makeup for the show. Sure, rockstars doing theatrical stage makeup was nothing new, but something about Tommy being secure enough in himself to want to give it a shot was admirable.

“Ready to get started then, drummer boy?” You allow yourself to flash Tommy a flirtatious smile, figuring that, no matter what happened between the two of you, you were determined to have as much fun as possible. Let’s face it, hanging out with Tommy makes you happy, even if there’s a possibility that it’ll never be anything more than platonic.

“Hell yeah, man! I can’t wait ‘til you’re done, Nikki is going to be so jealous.”

Leaving Tommy to sit at the dining table, you went to your bathroom to get a hand mirror, and some clips to pin Tommy’s hair back. “Nikki?”

“Nikki-fucking-Sixx, dude! He’s Mötley Crüe’s bass player,” Tommy says, all the while inspecting the variety of makeup products on the table, “and probably my best friend.”

When you eventually meet Tommy at the dining table, he’s still rambling on about Nikki. “I swear, he’s the raddest guy ever– and he always does the coolest makeup, but I’m not nearly as good. I want to be, though. Most def,” he nods decisively, his eyes sparkling with adoration for his friend.

“He does sound rad,” you agree, “did you want me to try and do something he would do?”

“Yeah dude! But I was thinking we could do something a little more me, ya know? Like I kind of want to look like a vampire, but, like, a punk vampire.” Tommy’s face is animated with excitement, his hands gesturing wildly as he describes his ideal stage persona. “Nikki’s more into a warpaint kinda look, but we could make that fit, right?”

You look down at Tommy, he’s so tall that, even sitting down, the two of you may as well be eye to eye. If you were being honest, Tommy’s request is a bit bizarre, but all rock and roll aesthetics kind of are. You try to envision a classic Halloween vampire look in your head, but all you seem to come up with is the traditional hollowed out cheeks and heavy eyeliner. It’s all so pathetically overdone.

How can we possibly make this work? Shifting your gaze from his face to the makeup on the table, a pan of fuschia eyeshadow catches your attention, instantly transforming the vision in your head. You bite your lip, hoping that Tommy will be on board with it when the time comes.

“Okay, Tommy. I think I have an idea. Is it okay if I move your hair out of your face?”

“Go for it, dude.”

You pluck a barrette off of the table and place it between your teeth, leaving both hands free to twist Tommy’s shaggy layers into place. His hair is light and fluffy against your fingertips, and somewhere deep down you wish that you could find more excuses to play with it in the future. Pulling a clump of his wavy fringe back, you secure it with a satisfying snap of the barrette.

“Ow! Y/N! That fucking hurt,” Tommy hisses, reaching for his head defensively.

You swat his hand away mercilessly, “Beauty is pain, drummer boy.”

“Since when?”

“Since, I said so,” you begin pinning back the other half of his fringe, trying not to laugh as Tommy cringes in discomfort. “God, where was all this complaining when you nearly cut your hand off?”

“Oh come on, that was so different and you know it!” Tommy’s working hard at maintaining his stubborn pout, but you can see the smile threatening to escape beneath it.

You pick up the bottle of your foundation Tommy was messing with earlier and start shaking it up. “Alright, tough guy. I’m going to need you to start paying attention for this part.”

Gently, you place your fingers under Tommy’s chin and tilt his head up so you can see better. You squeeze a few drops of foundation onto Tommy’s face, then use a wedged beauty sponge to pat it into his skin.

“Do I need to close my eyes?” Tommy asks, seeming genuinely concerned.

“Nah, not until I work on your eyes.” As you pat in the foundation, you realize that maybe your shade is just a little too light to be a perfect match for Tommy’s sun kissed complexion. It’s a little odd, but maybe it works for the subtle vampiric look he’s going for. “This is just a little foundation, alright? Really you don’t need much of it, but I think it’ll help everything else stick.”

When you feel as though his face is thoroughly covered, you grab the pan of bright pink eyeshadow, and a large brush you’d typically be using for regular blush.

“Okay, so I was thinking, maybe we could do those crazy, dead-looking vampire cheeks,” you begin, “but instead of using black, we use pink instead...” you trail off and hold your breath, worrying that the idea you’re proposing is too feminine for Tommy’s liking.

Much to your surprise, Tommy looks completely stoked at the idea. “That sounds awesome! No one would ever expect it,” he gushes, “plus, I’m wearing all black so it’ll really stand out. I’m gonna look like a fuckin’ superhero.”

Tommy’s excitement suddenly gives you a newfound confidence in your abilities. You really appreciate the way that Tommy makes you feel like you can do anything, and wonder if other people feel the same way whenever he’s around.

Blotting your fluffy brush, you set to work carving out his angular cheekbones with the hot pink pigment. Shockingly, it doesn’t look nearly as insane as you feared it might. It actually looks kind of cool, and reminds you of a more exaggerated version of the new wave fashion you typically hated. One thing’s for sure, Tommy was absolutely right when he said that no one was going to expect it.

Despite how still Tommy had been when you applied the foundation, something about the way you were applying the color to his cheeks was causing him to fidget.

“Jesus Christ, that fucking tickles!” he exclaimed, bursting out in a fit of laughter.

You giggle at his sudden outburst, having to use both hands to wrestle his head back into place so you can finish. “Come on, you freak! Hold still, or you’re going to make me mess up.” If you weren’t quite literally putting pink eyeshadow on Tommy’s face, you’d dare to say he was blushing.

When you finish hollowing out his already angular face, you hold up the hand mirror so that he can properly assess your progress. Immediately, Tommy yanks the mirror out of your hands, his mouth falling open in shock.

“Holy fucking shit, this is so gnarly!” he’s smiling from ear to ear, and you can’t help but feel your chest swell with a little bit of pride. It’s true that you’re no makeup artist, but it didn’t really matter what anyone else was going to think so long as Tommy was happy with it.

“Alright, alright. Settle down, because now we’re getting into the hard stuff.”

The final step is eyeliner and eyeshadow, which is actually what you feel the most competent at. However, with the way Tommy is seated while you remain standing is going to make the process a little complicated. It probably wouldn’t be so bad if Tommy wasn’t so goddamn tall in comparison to rest of the human population.

Grabbing a freshly sharpened eye pencil, you lean in get a good view of Tommy’s eyes. “Look up for me,” you instruct and Tommy complies.

As you work the pencil into his waterline, you realize that you’re unable to get a good enough angle to actually apply it evenly.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, clearing becoming frustrated at how terrible the eyeliner is looking compared to the rest of his makeup.

“What’s the matter?” Tommy asks, looking up at you earnestly.

You can’t stop a sigh from escaping your lips, “Oh nothing major. It’s just hard to work on your eyes with you being so tall– and I know sitting in a chair isn’t going to help our cause.”

“I’m not tall, you’re just a shorty,” Tommy mocks, sticking his tongue out at you playfully. Tommy’s antics ease your frustration a little, but you’re still worried about how you’re going to successfully complete the look in time for his show.

As you try to think of other solutions, Tommy sudden speaks up.

“I have an idea, Y/N...but you’re not going to like it.”

“What is it?” You find that the sudden apprehension in Tommy’s voice is making you more and more nervous by the second.

“I’ll tell you but you have to promise you won’t get mad,” Tommy’s face is suddenly more serious than you’ve ever seen it.

“Get mad? Why on earth would I get mad?”

“Promise first!” Tommy insists.

You throw the eyeliner pencil down on the table in exasperation, “Okay fine I promise, now please just tell me.”

“You could sit in my lap,” Tommy blurts out, his words connected by a string of anxiety.

Your first instinct is to laugh at the absurdity of Tommy’s idea, automatically assuming he’s pulling an elaborate prank on you. However, a quick assessment of Tommy’s grave facial expression makes you realize he’s dead serious.

“Oh my god,” you scoff, “you can’t be fucking serious.”

Tommy throws his hands up in defeat. “See! I knew you’d be fucking mad, god this is so embarrassing.” He rests his head in his hands, his fingertips most definitely making contact with the makeup job you just did, but you don’t have the heart to accost him over it.

You consider Tommy’s proposition, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt for a moment. “So...how do I know that this isn’t just some attempt to get into my pants, huh?”

“Listen,” Tommy starts, clearly on the defense, “I just figured because my legs are so long you wouldn’t even have to get that close to me, okay? Look, I’ll even put my hands behind my back if you want.”

Tommy demonstrates by clasping his hands together behind the back of the chair. “See? It’s that easy,” he looks at you triumphantly, clearly believing in his heart that his logic is rock solid.

Against all odds, you actually consider what Tommy is saying for a moment. You think about all the other guys you’ve met in your life and know that you’d be absolutely out of your mind to fall for whatever Tommy was trying to pull. On the other hand, would it really be so bad if you did go along with it?

“Fuck it,” you say, throwing your sense of caution and self-preservation completely out the window.

This seems to surprise Tommy quite a bit, his wide-eyed expression hilarious against the backdrop of his half-finished stage makeup. The way you figure it, if Tommy managed to maintain his control while passed out drunk on your floor the first night you met, he most likely wasn’t trying to pull anything now.

Approaching Tommy, you try your best to keep your cool but can’t deny the way your heart is pounding against your ribcage.

“Just know, if you try anything I will break you in half,” you threaten, knowing full well that the only way you could kick Tommy’s ass is if he let you.

Tommy puts his hands back behind the chair once again, this time keeping them there. “What did I tell you?” he laughs, instantly removing some of the tension that had been building up over the last few minutes.

With a heavy sigh, you place a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, effectively using him for leverage, as you swing a leg over both of his. You gently rest the remainder of your weight onto his knees until you’re straddling him at the furthest distance possible. To your pleasant surprise, you fit in Tommy’s lap comfortably.

Being closer to him than ever before, you can now smell the woodsy scent of his cologne in combination with the cigarette smoke that clung to his clothes. To prevent your mind from wandering, you decide to put all of your energy into focusing on the task at hand.

“Alright, I guess we’ll finish this then,” you say, swallowing your nerves and reaching for the eyeliner. Tommy only smiles back at you victoriously, completely aware that he won the battle.

“Ugh for chrissakes, if you keep smiling at me like that your face is going to stick that way,” you complain, going back to work on smoking out his eyeliner.

Tommy flinches a little at the lack of warning, but quickly adjusts. “Why wouldn’t I be smiling? There’s a pretty girl in my lap!”

You don’t want to laugh, but you can’t help yourself. There’s something about Tommy that seems to bring out the best in you.

“Yeah well you won’t be laughing when I punch you in the dick.”

Tommy snorts with laughter, “There’s the mean girl I know and love.”

You ignore him, but a smile still remains firmly planted on your face. Oddly enough, Tommy doesn’t seem to mind having his eyeliner done all that much. After you’ve successfully created two smokey black rings around Tommy’s eyes, you decide to take some of the pink pigment from earlier and add it to his eyelids. You try your best to explain how you’re doing it along the way, but describing the process is a lot harder than it seemed. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, being able to sit on Tommy’s lap like this actually helps tremendously.

Per Tommy’s request, you end up adding two solid black lines to the right side of his face so that he can look “just a little more like Nikki”. It’s obvious that Tommy admires Nikki a lot more than he had been letting on, which is almost hard to believe considering how highly he speaks about him already.

When you finish, you unclip the barrettes in Tommy’s hair, mussing it up with your hands in an attempt to get his shaggy locks back into place. Holding hand mirror up to Tommy’s face once more, you figure that the look has to be just about done if Tommy ever hopes of being able to recreate it without you.

“I love it! I totally fucking love it, thank you so fucking much,” he lets the mirror fall slowly onto the table, his eyes meeting yours with a familiar stare that you can’t quite put your finger on. “Can I ask for one more thing?”

“Sure, what is it?” you ask, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“The lipstick you’re wearing, do you think you could put some on me?”

You had all but forgotten the fact that you’d put on a red lipstick earlier in the day, and found yourself surprised it had even stayed on this long. “Sure thing, man. It’s in my purse though so let me just go get it real quick–”

As you move to get up, you feel a large hand grip the side of your thigh. The touch is gentle, yet firm enough to hold you in place.

“Tommy what are you…” you try to finish your sentence, but end up getting lost his gaze. The deep blue of his eyes makes you shiver involuntarily, and there’s no doubt in your mind that Tommy could feel it.

“I think I can get it myself,” he murmurs as his lips catch yours, pulling you into a gentle kiss.

Part 4

Masterlist

#it's finally done #whew am i exhausted #neighborly series #neighborly part 3 #mgk!tommy lee #mgk!tommy lee x reader #tommy lee #tommy lee x reader #motley crue #mötley crüe #vince neil #nikki sixx #mick mars #the dirt #the dirt movie #the dirt netflix

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chaossheithsideficblog · 6 years

Text

Unbound Incubus

Fandom: Voltron Legendary Defender

Relationships: Shiro/Keith

Keith did not understand why meeting Shiro’s friends had him completely in emotional knots but it did. He checks his outfit for the third time in the full-length mirror. He brushes his hair back and pulls it into a ponytail. He likes his more human appearance. Not that he did not like his tiny bat wings and little horns. He also likes Shiro’s farmstead. You think with as many cats as the weretiger had the place would smell like cat. It smells like lavender, musk, and some other scent that was unique to the weretiger.

He walks out of the room. The bedroom that Shiro informed him was his for as long as he stayed on Earth. He really wanted was Shiro’s bed with Shiro in it. The weretiger was proving to be strong-willed. Keith was not sure if he was proud of that or annoyed. He had yet to decide on which emotion it was. Shiro was quite good at saying no. Keith respected that even if he did not understand. The sex demon thought he was losing his touch.

He sits down on the sofa and picks up one of the books Shiro had recommended. It was a book on human manners. The demon truth be told found the book fascinating. Shiro also had told him not many practiced their manner correctly. The weretiger wished they would. For good manners would smooth over many a not great situation. So the lust demon sat and read. He wanted to navigate this human-centered world without too many mistakes on his part. Red jumped up on his lap, curled up on her favorite supernatural being and purred in her sleep.

Shiro came in from feeding his cats. He sees his unintentional guest. Red was sleeping in Keith’s lap. He was going to be introducing the demon of lust to his friends this evening. He was praying to the ones who walked this world before them that it ends well. Lance’s attitude was the only thing he thinks could put a damper on this. Well, maybe Pidge’s ‘I have no filter that the gods installed’ might even create tension. He just didn't know. He was just glad his many streams of income work so well. He had book royalties coming in as well as his work as an insurance salesperson twice a week.

Shiro disappears into his own bedroom. He takes a shower to wash the farm off him. As he washes he wonders what Keith might want to do to earn his own money. Shutting the water off. He steps out, drys off, and then gets dressed. He wanders out to where Keith was sitting. “Keith, I hate to interrupt your reading.” Keith looks over the top of his book. Which Shiro had to admit was super cute to himself. “What do you think you might want to do to make money?”

“Well I know I don’t want to whore myself out,” Keith smirks as he pets Red. He watches the emotions play across Shiro’s face he knew the word choice was shocking even in its truth. “That would be easier and what I know. Well, what I am used to.” He pauses. “I would like to learn how to build motorcycles or fix them or both.”

“I will get books on that. I will also see about getting you a laptop or a tablet so you can take online classes in that subject.” Shiro smiles. “I think a vocation that is not what you happen to be is a great idea.” His gaze is warm to Keith. “I think you create beautiful motorcycles. I also think you create beautiful art.”

Keith put his chin in his hands. “Maybe I could do more than one thing. I could write erotica at night and build motorcycles during the day. Erotica would be easy I know the sex.” Shiro nods.

Later that evening, Shiro answers the door as the doorbell peels through the house. His friends were all there. Including some of Coran’s friends who were Elders of the Supernatural world. “Come in everyone.” Keith looks over at the door and the people streaming in. Red hisses at the intrusion and disappears abandoning Keith to these strangers. Everyone looks at him in surprise. The group of incoming supernaturals recognized the kind of supernatural before them just not what type.

“You wanted a meeting.” Allura looks at her friend strangely as she weaves at Keith. She had not yet sensed what he was. She just knew he was different. “Who is this?”

“Everyone please sit down I’ll explain why I called a meeting.” Shiro goes to stand behind the chair that Keith was sitting in. They both watch as the others all take their seats. “This is Keith. He is a demon of lust.”

“Now Shiro,” Lance breaks in. “If you were really that hard up you did not need to call a demon of lust up to help you out. I have a black book full of people you could meet.”

“Lance.” Shiro’s voice held that tone of annoyance that most people did not miss unless the person in question was Lance. “He was summoned not by me but by some babies who had no clue what they were doing. He is unbound. No contract. Nothing to send him back to where he is from.” Lance blinks. Shiro points at the ratty looking book on the table. “They used that book Allura.” Allura picks up the book and begins leafing through it.

“Oh boy,” her eyes widen, “This is one of those books that I’m gonna lock in my locked bookshelves. Where did they get this?!”

“No clue. It’s an old book.” Shiro shrugs.

“So your new roommate is a lust demon.” Pidge’s gaze rakes over Keith in a way that sets his teeth on edge. “He is not dressed like one. He looks pretty normal for a human looking person.”

Keith’s eyes narrow. He was dressed in a t-shirt, flannel, and skinny jeans. His hair pulled back into a ponytail. “I refuse to become an experiment.”

Hunk realizing what Keith was seeing. “Pidge whatever your thinking. No. You're not turning him into an experiment.”

“What is he going to do with his time?” Coran looks between the two. He could see something forming there. It was too soon to tell what it was exactly.

“Thinking about writing erotica.” Keith shrugs, “at least until I learn how to create, and repair motorcycles.”

Matt hums to himself. “Seems my research comes in handy here. I do have a couple of questions for Keith.” He looks over at the demon, “will you answer them for me? I promise they are not too intrusive.”

“As long as they are not intrusive.” Keith agrees. He takes in the group around him. Including the man that had not said anything yet. The man looks almost elf-like with sunset dusk looking skin. He notes the pointed ears on Allura and Coran as well. Most the others had normal round ears.

“Do you or do you not need to kill people as they are having sex with you,” Matt questions. His hands are in his pockets. His question quiets the mummer of voices from the others.

“No, I do not.” Keith smiles lightly. It's just a tiny curve of his lips. “That’s a common misconception. I cannot say that other incubus or succubus have not used sex to drain and kill human or supernaturals like themselves.” He pauses to gather his thoughts. “I can feed off of people having sex. I can feed off of feelings of lust. I have found that I can eat human food when Shiro cooks it. I don’t know about others yet.” He pauses. “If they are killing others via sex it's because the demon chooses to. Not because it was needed or uncontrollable thing.”

Matt looks up stunned. “That is good information.” The others mummer around him. “Would you choose to return to hell?”

“Nope,” Keith pops the p when he speaks. “I’d rather not. I’m at least safe here. No one is trying to convince me to fuck them. No one is trying to rape me if I refuse to fuck them. All in all, I choose to stay here.”

“Aren't you supposed to like all sex?” Pidge looks confused.

“No one likes being raped including lust demons,” Keith shakes his head. “No one likes being overpowered. Though I do know some lust demons who have used their charms to change a no to a yes. Which I still think is wrong. No is a no. Find a different target.” He looks over at Matt. “I won’t count your sister’s question as the third one.”

“Thank you,” Matt eyes his sister as Pidge blushes. “You actually believe in consent?”

“Yes,” Keith nods, “I do. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Plus the energy is wrong if it's not given truly freely.”

Shiro frowns, “energy is wrong?”

“It tastes off. It's hard to explain to someone that doesn't require energy to feed.” Keith sighs. His face looks thoughtful to those watching him. “I suppose the difference would be like great craft beer and poorly made commercial beer.”

Matt nods.

Lance frowning, “so you have not had sex with Shiro.”

Shiro draws himself up to his full height. He glares at Lance. Lance holds his hands up and tries to make himself smaller on the sofa he was sitting on.

Keith pouts. “I’ve tried. He says no.”

The entire group looks at Shiro. He glares at them too.

#sheith #sheith fanfiction #sheith supernatural #shiro/keith

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allthephils · 6 years

Text

Repose

Chapter 10

Rating: Mature (adult themes, sexuality, sleeping beauty au)

word count: 4,285 / 30,435 so far

Read on Ao3

Dennis had brought something to play music on, a portable CD player. When he handed it over, Phil had just sort of looked at it, prompting Dennis to call it vintage. Phil wondered if he actually owned any CDs but he said thank you just the same. It had a radio so he tuned in the classical station and left it playing for Dan when he wasn’t there or when he ran out of things to say. Most days started with a recap of Phil’s morning, then a summary of whatever media Phil thought Dan might be sorry to miss; Bake Off, Game of Thrones, Stranger Things. The kitchen started bringing Phil coffee when he arrived and lunch a few hours in to his visit. A few days, he brought cakes from the bakery by his flat. He’d sit and eat and reminisce, telling their origin story again and again. He always brought a cake for Dan, just in case.

In the seven days he’d been coming to see Dan, Phil had only seen the family the one time. This was just fine with him. He’d grown accustomed to the ride with Dennis and was so familiar with the other guard, it was like he wasn't there at all. The fervor over Phaniel had died down slightly. This was partly due to the royal family issuing a statement about Daniel showing promising signs due to receiving a new “treatment.” The crowds had mostly dissipated but for a few diehards who showed up every day and made a lot of noise about the curse and giving them their chance. Phil figured none of that was his concern and was happy to leave the politics to someone else. His time with Dan was about keeping him in this almost awake state he was currently in. It was theirs and theirs alone. Today was no different, until, half way through his in depth analysis of the latest Avengers movie, when there was a knock at the door. It was a brief knock followed by an abrupt intrusion.

“Really, Adrian, knocking? He’s my bloody son, for Christ’s sake!” Prince Walter stormed inside, disturbing the peaceful sanctuary Phil had carefully crafted. Adrian shuffled in behind him, watching his feet.

“Oh, Hello sir. Hey Adrian.” Phil moved to hug Adrian but stopped short. Water was glaring at him and it seemed it might be best to figure out why.

“Hello Philip.”

“It’s Phil…”

“What’s all this? You brought plants? I assume you aren’t actually planning to light those candles. You do realize Daniel has no idea any of these things are here?” Walter was unhinged, pacing the room, waving his arms about as he spoke.

“Well I just thought…”

Walter paid no attention to Phil at all, continuing his tirade over the absurdity of this plan of action. Phil sat down and waited, figuring it was no use to try and interrupt again. He watched Adrian, trying to convey compassion whenever he was able to catch his eye.

“You’ll need to clean all this up, take it with you when you go.”

“Wait, when I go?” Still no acknowledgement from the prince. “Sir... Sir!” Phil had had enough. He felt for this man, he really did, but he wasn’t going to sit here and be verbally abused for doing what he was asked to do, for being a friend to Dan. “Walter!” Phil barked his name and Walter finally stopped. He turned, his jaw clenched and looked at Phil.

“Beg your pardon, sir, but what do you mean, when I go?” Phil spoke carefully, his tone measured.

“I don’t know what my wife told you, but she’s not herself. We can’t carry on with this charade indefinitely.” Walter’s voice echoed off the walls.

Phil felt like he might be sick but he screwed up his courage. Someone had to stand up for Dan, someone had to be his voice.

“All due respect, Sir. Your wi- Princess Danielle seemed to be very much in control of her faculties when I saw her. I may not totally agree with her view of what’s happening here but she is his mother…”

“And I’m his father.” Walter interrupted harshly.

“I understand that. And I can’t imagine what this is like for you. But, she’s his mother and she seems to be willing to do whatever is necessary to help him.”

Walter threw his hands into the air and began pacing again. “Yes, we all are Phil, all but you, it seems.”

There it was. It had crossed his mind a few times over the course of the week, that the family would likely hold Phil responsible because of his unwillingness to buy into the whole curse thing and his refusal to kiss Dan. He knew it would come up but he had hoped Dan would wake up before it had a chance to.

Adrian tried to help, “Father, that’s really not fair. Phil is the only one who…” He swallowed the rest of his words when Walter held a finger up in his direction. It was the first time Phil had seen them act like a family, a dysfunctional, angry family, but a family.

Phil did his best to sound sympathetic. “Sir, again, I don’t mean to overstep, but Daniel has been right at the edge of consciousness since I’ve been coming here. If we could just have a little more time together.”

Walter huffed but Phil went on.

“Do you really believe in this curse? Do you really think a kiss is what he needs? From me?”

Walter raised his chin, looking down his nose at Phil.

“What I believe is irrelevant, Philip. By the time I take the throne, I’ll have one foot in the grave. There are important political ties, negotiations, arrangements, that rely on the relationships that I have personally built. Daniel needs to be there to step in. My heir will survive this and he will take his rightful place in history with a queen by his side.” Adrian stood silent, his lip quivering. It was not lost on Phil that Walter talked like he had one son. One son that was clearly just a pawn in a game to him. “Unfortunately, you seem to be the person Daniel decided to devote himself to. So yes, he needs a kiss. From you. I would do anything if that weren’t so, but it is. So, if you aren’t willing to play your part, then you will need to leave.”

Anger surged in Phil’s veins and he got up, walking to stand a mere foot from Walter. He hadn't noticed before now that he was at least a couple inches taller than him. Try and look down on me now, Walter.

“Adrian, would it possible for you to ask your mum to see me?” He stared into Walters eyes as he spoke to Adrian. “And your grandmother?”

Walter looked ready to strangle Phil, “Now you wait. That’s a step too far.”

Adrian had slipped out the door and Walter called after him to no answer.

“You don’t just casually ask for an audience with the queen.” Walter’s fists were clenched. Phil stood tall, inside he shook like a leaf but he faked confidence.

“I just did.” Phil smiled an artificial smile and Prince Walter walked heavily out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Phil slumped into his chair and dropped his face into his hands. He cried, mostly out of residual fear and frustration.

“No offense but your dad’s kind of a dick.” He said to Dan, then he brushed the curls away from his forehead. He found Dan’s fingers again, linking them with his, like he had been doing at the end of most days. “I wish you could tell me it’s OK. I wish you could tell me what to do.”

They didn’t wake up spooning, they woke up facing away from each other, each clinging to their respective edges of the bed. There was enough room between them for the rest of the party to join. Phil rubbed his eyes and rolled over. Dan was sitting up in bed, phone in hand.

“Hey, What time is it?”

Dan jumped a little, smiling, so happy to see Phil first thing in the day. “Ten. Dennis is on my ass to get going so we definitely shouldn’t lay down and have a morning snuggle.” By the time the words were out, Dan had tucked a leg between Phil’s and wrapped his arms around his waist.

As he fell asleep last night, Phil had told himself that they needed to have some real conversations before things went any further. He had vowed to keep his hands to himself and not get carried away. But now, he found himself all tangled with Dan once again and all he could do was smile. They’d be on their way soon, what harm could a cuddle do? Dan wriggled against Phil. “I like waking up with you.”

Phil opened his mouth to agree but a knock on the door interrupted him.

“Sir, you have 3 minutes or I come in.” Dennis was not messing around. Phil jumped out of bed and pulled on his jeans and shirt at record speed. He ran to brush his teeth, Dan laughing behind him.

“Let him come, what difference does it make?” Dan stretched and took his sweet time getting up and dressing.

The living room was quiet, empty, but for a mess of empty beer bottles and dishes. The food from last night had been pushed to one end of the dining room table but not cleaned up. Dan lead Phil to an empty chair at the end of the table and sat him down. He leaned over and said “You relax, beautiful. I’ll get us coffee.“ He gave Phil a quick kiss and walked into the kitchen.

PJ sat, peering over his mug which was held to his lips in a perpetual state of almost drinking. He stared at Phil, an inquisitive look in his eyes. “Sleep well lover?”

“Um yeah. Thanks. It’s a big bed, innit?” Well this was weird.

“So tell me, Phil, what are your intentions with my friend?” PJ slurped his tea.

“Um, my intentions? Um, I guess I…”

PJ laughed a raucous laugh and shoved Phil’s shoulder. “Don’t worry ol boy, I’m just toying with you!” The room was quiet enough that Phil could hear the waves crashing outside through the open patio doors. Dan was tapping his toe to some song in his head, waiting on the coffee maker, oblivious. Phil watched him with an involuntary smile on his face. Dan’s shirt was wrinkled and he had terrible bed head, he had pulled on Phil’s socks, and his pinky toe stuck out of the hole that had formed. He had never seen anyone so beautiful in all his life. He’d had crushes, so many, but this feeling he got from just looking at Dan, it was new and big and somewhat overwhelming. PJ hadn’t stopped staring and now he leaned in close, “He really likes you Phil. Like really likes you.” Phil still watched as Dan poured the coffee, whistling.

“Yeah, That’s the impression I get. Don’t worry PJ, I really like him too.”

PJ looked serious, “Yes I know. But Phil, you know it’s not going to be easy, right? Are you prepared for what it might be like to be with Dan?”

Phil considered this, “Well, no. But I feel like this might be one of those things in life, where you just do whatever you have to do.”

Dan set a steaming mug in front of Phil and sat, splashing cream into his own coffee. He was chatting about taking a more scenic route home so he could show Phil more of the coast. Phil was only half listening, he drank his coffee too fast and burned the roof of his mouth.

There were only a few pairs of shoes by the door now. Phil slipped his on over Dan’s socks and brought Dan’s to him.

“Oh. Are we in a hurry?” Dan asked.

Phil brought his cup to the sink. “No, I mean, maybe. I do have a few things to do at home.” He was just ready to be out of this place. He wanted a shower and he did not trust himself to take one here. He wanted fresh clothes and even though he liked PJ, he wasn’t in the mood for any more best friend scrutiny right now.

“Ok, yeah, we’ve been here all night. Of course you’d want to get home. Sorry.” Dan stood and stretched, reaching his arms high above his head. “Thanks for this PJ, it was great.” He put a hand to his chest, “I appreciate you.” PJ walked over and hugged Dan tight.

“Anytime buddy.” PJ’s hands were on Dan’s shoulders and he looked him in the eye, paternally. “You’re always welcome here... You and Phil are always welcome here.”

Dan smiled widely at that and ducked away to get their jackets, a little embarrassed at the connection.

“Yeah, thanks PJ, this really was lovely, like a mini vacation.”

Phil hoped that would be the end of it but PJ pulled him in for a hug and whispered, “I’m glad it’s you, Phil. If he’s gonna fall for someone, you’ll do just fine.”

Those words, fall for someone, they danced around Phil’s stomach. Phil was sure of Dan. He was totally unwilling to admit it out loud this soon, but still he was more sure than he’d ever been of anything. He was also really scared, scared that his feelings would grow even more intense, scared that they wouldn’t. And scared that he’d be too much for Dan, that Dan could never possibly feel the way Phil did. But those words, from Dan’s trusted friend, if he’s gonna fall for someone, Phil suddenly felt lighter.

The drive home took a little longer than it should have. Dennis drove along the coast for a bit before jumping onto the main road. It was beautiful. Phil told Dan about the Isle of Man and the time he’d spent there with his family. They stopped for coffee and pastries and settled in for the drive. Phil couldn’t remember being so comfortable doing nothing with anyone before. Usually, he was incredibly nervous being alone with someone he hadn’t known for ages. He usually felt compelled to fill silences before they became awkward but the things he said to fill them only exacerbated things. It wasn’t like that with Dan. He could just coexist with him, no pressure, no pretense.

It was Dan who broke through the quiet with a question, asked just above a whisper. “Phil, have you ever been in love?”

The answer spun like a tornado in Phil’s mind, Yes Dan, with you, I’m in love with you. It was difficult to form any other words but he managed, “I think so.”

Dan brushed crumbs off his lap then off of Phil’s. “How long to you think you have to know someone before feeling like that, before you can say you love them?”

Phil thought Dan must be able to hear his heart for how hard it was beating. “Well, I think it depends on the people and how they met and how they spend their time. And anyway, love isn't just about knowing someone, it’s deeper than that. My dad says he knew the first time he saw my mum. He felt it. And look at them now.”

Dan took Phil’s hand and rested his head on his shoulder.

“Dan, you said there are stories you should tell me.” They were stuck in this car, maybe they should get this stuff out of the way. “No time like the present?”

Phil could feel Dan’s sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, ok. Let’s talk about that. There's stuff about my family, obviously, where do I start? Like, before we met, what did you know about me?”

“Um, well, I grew up watching the Christmas specials with my mum. I lost interest once I got a Tamagotchi. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Funny, but I rediscovered you just a few months before we met.” Phil said, casually, not realizing the implication. He sipped his coffee.

“Wait. You rediscovered me? A few months ago? What does that mean?” Dan had lifted his head and now he was looking right at Phil.

Phil tried to hide his fluster. “Oh, I just exposed myself, didn’t I? Shit. My friend Louise is like a total fangirl for you, but I never really paid attention. And then I saw your photos, when you left Eton. That’s all. There’s no story.”

“Oh no you don’t. There’s always a story. What do you mean you saw my photos? Where?” Dan’s voice had gone high pitched.

“In a tabloid, they published your photo, in your Eton uniform, with the pink socks.”

Dan laughed and Phil continued, getting lost in the memory.

“And you were looking straight at the camera. You looked so...cool. Just enigmatic and fucking cool. I bought it, first one I’d ever bought, only tabloid I’ve ever bought. I didn’t read a word, just ripped out that photo and…” He trailed off. Phil wondered why his filter always showed up a few seconds too late when he was around Dan.

Dan looked scandalized in the best possible way. “And? Phil Lester, you spill right now. You ripped out the photo and what? What did you do with my photo, Phil?”

Phil’s cheeks turned a deep red. “I just, I just kept it.” He cleared his throat. “ In my nightstand.”

“In your nightstand!?” Dan had Phil by the shoulder and was shaking him back and forth while Phil struggled not to spill his coffee. “Oh my god. You wanked to me. You wanked to me! This is illuminating. How often? How many times? Sorry, sorry, none of my business, but how often?”

Phil covered his face with his hand and pulled his knees up, willing the earth to open up and swallow him immediately.

He peaked through his fingers, looking to see if Dennis had heard. Mercifully, there was music playing in the front seat and it he didn’t seem to be paying attention. He put his forehead on his knees and hid.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” Dan lowered his voice. “Honestly Phil, that’s hot. I’m flattered. Maybe that’s not the appropriate response, I don’t know. Really though, it’s kind of sweet.”

At that very strange assessment, Phil lifted his eyes, raising his brows. “Sweet?”

“Yeah.” Dan breathed a laugh. “You know, when I saw you in that bakery, you were like something... from a dream. My brain was like, hey there he is. There’s the guy. It was like I’d been looking for you, without knowing I’d been looking for you, and then I found you.”

Phil wasn’t sure he was breathing to he put a hand to his chest to be sure. “Dan.” He said.

“I winked at you because I couldn’t stop and I was nervous and my default defense mechanism is to try and look cool.”

“That wink,” Phil shook his head, “that wink stayed with me.”

“I thought of you all that night.” Dan continued. “I couldn't get your face out of my head. It’s a good face.”

“I thought of you too. It was your hands though. I couldn’t get your hands out of my head.” Phil’s heart beat with the memory of that starstruck thrill.

“My hands? You went home after I winked at you and thought about my hands?”

“Yeah. I did.” Phil wasn’t hiding anymore and Dan wasn’t laughing. They were breathing in sync and talking low, tension building with every confession. “I took the picture of you out of the drawer but I’d seen you in real life and I had that wink and your dimples and your hands. So I didn’t need it.”

Dan swallowed, he set his hand on Phil’s thigh, just above his knee, and rubbed his thumb slowly back and forth. “Didn’t need it for what, Phil?”

That was all Phil could take, he didn’t care about Dennis anymore. He couldn’t remember all the good advice he’d given himself. All he knew was the hand on his leg and those lips he couldn’t take his eyes off of. He leaned in, closing the space between them, and they kissed. It was a slow, deep kiss, not unlike their first but more knowing, they’d learned each other some. They ran fingers through each other’s hair, Phil's hand roamed over Dan's back, then Dan’s hand moved. It moved up Phil’s thigh and inside between his legs before Phil’s hand flew down to stop it. Dan pulled away, apologizing, and Phil took his face in hands.

“Dan, you are not making this easy.” Phil tried to steady his breath.

“I’m trying to make it easy,” Dan muttered, his eyes half closed.

Phil shook his head and smiled at Dan, taking his hand and settling back in to his seat.

“You’re the one that said we shouldn’t skip any steps.” He said, gently.

Dan leaned back and let his head roll to one side. “I know, I know. You’re right. I’m just...very ready for the next step, Phil.”

“Ok good cuz the next step is talking.”

Dan stuck out his bottom lip. “You’re no fun.” Phil just held his hand tighter.

When the car pulled up, Dan looked to Dennis. “I’m gonna walk Phil in, ok?” Dennis gave a disapproving snarl in the rear view mirror. Leaning forward over the seat, Dan pleaded, “Please Dennis, I’ll go up the stairs, say goodnight, ten minutes. Fifteen tops.” Dennis rolled his eyes but nodded.

They rushed inside and up the stairs, holding hands. As soon as they stepped into the lounge, Phil turned and pulled Dan in, kissing again, filling every second they had. A gasp game from the sofa and they both jumped, splitting apart.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Louise moved her laptop from her lap and jumped up in her stocking feet. She stood and curtsied deeply, looking at the rug.

Phil laughed. “Louise, what are you...get up you goof.”

Louise’s face matched the shade of her hair, pink. “But you’re the… You’re prince Daniel. Oh my god, Phil.”

“Seriously, you don’t have to do that for me.” Dan put his hand out, “You must be Louise, I’m Dan.”

She laughed a low maniacal grumble of a laugh. She couldn’t contain herself. They shook hands and she gave Phil a hug and a wide eyed, open mouthed look of wonder.

“I assume you didn’t get my text?”

Phil pulled out his phone and read, “In your hood, two hours to kill before my next meeting. Wanna hang?” then, “I’m coming over to drink your coffee and rest my tush on your sofa. See you soon.”

Louise shrugged, “You didn’t answer so... I still have the key from when you went to that thing in Australia.”

“It’s totally fine, I wasn’t paying attention to my phone.” Phil said. Dan bit back his grin and shifted his feet, avoiding eye contact with a blushing Louise. They all stood silently until Louise burst out with, “Oh! I’ve got to uh...use the toilet...I’ll probably be a while in there...so take your time.” She sprinted out of the room.

Dan started to say that he thought Louise was a hoot, but his mouth was occupied before he could finish. It was a chaste kiss, soft and pressing. Phil held him there for just long enough then closed his eyes, their foreheads touching. “Goodnight Dan. Next time, more steps.”

Dan nodded. “Goodnight wonderful Phil.”

“Actually, it’s AmazingPhil.” Phil’s crooked lips pulled up at one corner.

“Yes, yes it is. I’ll text you.” He turned to leave but stopped and said, “Phil, I’m not gonna see anybody else, OK? Just you, I just want you.”

“I just want you too.” Phil beamed.

Dan’s dimples dug in deep and he tripped on his own feet a little. Then he was gone. Within moments, Louise was there, smacking Phil on the shoulder.

“PHIL! Oh. My. God. Why are you coming home right now? Where did you sleep last night? What the hell is going on? I want details now!”

Phil plopped down onto his sofa. “Louise, he’s 18, he’s just a mass of pent up sexual energy. It’s so hard to resist.”

“So don’t! Are you mad? Help the poor man out!”

“I need a shower.” he saw Louise’s look, “it’s not like that! We went to a party, we didn’t do anything. I just didn't shower over there, that’s all.”

“Ok, dollface. I’m sorry, I’m just so bloody excited for you. He’s the prince for cripe’s sake. And he is lush. That arse alone.”

“Louise!”

“Sorry sorry sorry. I’ll be heading out before you get out of the shower so thanks for the use of your sofa and for introducing me to your boyfriend.” She shimmied her shoulders and began gathering her things.

“He’s not my boyfriend, oh my god. Good bye Louise.” He walked toward his room.

Louise called after him, “Bye Philly, remember the little people when you’re royalty!”

Phil slipped off his shoes and shuffled to his dresser, looking down at his feet in Dan’s socks. Smiling, he walked back to the door, then back to the dresser, watching his feet all the way. He could almost pretend Dan was walking with him and he loved it. He undressed for the shower, leaving the socks for last.

#Phan #phanfic #phanfiction #sleeping beauty au #wip #mature

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phylophe · 7 years

Text

Only Human

The Mechanic observes his Magnum Opus.

-----

There’s something different about him - he’s used to that shit-eating grin of this asshole, and something about this one just doesn’t feel right.

“Where’s your doctor?” He asks as Four throws himself down onto his couch and stretches out, as if he owned the place.

“Aww, what if I just came over here because I missed you and your rough treatment?” The out-of-place smile is still there, and it feels more wrong by the moment. Still, the man’s committed to his acting, if nothing else, and keeps up the cocky composure even as he smears blood onto one of the new cushions. “Or maybe I just wanted to have a catch-up with my favourite mechanic?”

“Sure. In the small hours of the morning. Covered in dried blood. And… did you get shot?”

Four doesn’t retort immediately with some smart comment; only after a few seconds does he manage a feeble comeback. “I didn’t get shot. I got shot at, and they missed.”

“Nice try with the bullshit.” He doesn’t press further. He hasn’t seen Four so weak, so broken, so human, since the time he’d spent months putting the man’s body back together.

He doesn’t ask anymore questions, and Four doesn’t tell anymore lies. Two days later, he wakes up to find his couch empty.

Don’t do anything stupid, he thinks.

-----

But of course the bastard goes and does multiple stupid things.

Over the following weeks, the double-agent does an abysmal job of upholding that title, and ends up dirtying his couch three more times. The last of these times, his partner ended up having to actively hack into the government surveillance records and manually overwrite some files.

“Are you so full of crap that it’s finally filling up the space in your skull, shit-for-brains?” Four’s actions were reckless and selfish, so he figures he deserves a taste of his own medicine, if only in the form of a scolding. “Please tell me you’re fucking up on purpose, because if you’re getting us into trouble by actual stupidity, I’ll have to kick your ass myself.”

“Maybe I don’t have enough fibre in my diet?” Even while sedated, the shithead somehow musters up enough energy to pull a jerk-ass face, and he’d like nothing more than to put his fist in it, except his hands are currently occupied by clamps and a scalpel.

“I’m serious, Ilvait.” The emphasis on his real name does the trick - Four’s face grows stern and his eye sharpens with attention. “I couldn’t care less if you got your sorry ass handed to you and die in some rat-hole, but if you keep pulling crazy stunts and jeopardising the safety of the rest of us, I’ll go have a word with your superiors on both sides.”

Four doesn’t bother with a reply - that alone tells him that the agent’s streak of poor performance isn’t simply coincidental.

“What happened to your doctor?” His anger is diffusing a bit. He’s only human, after all.

Four supplies a single word: “Hrodna.”

The airstrike. They’d attacked not only the infantry, but also one of the field hospitals. “Did she die?”

“No.”

The gears turn in his head and the pieces click into place. “So are you going to do anything about that stick up your ass, before it migrates too high and gives you a heart attack or a stroke or something?”

“What do you suggest?” Four asks with his face turned away; he can’t say he likes it better when the asshole’s grinning, but he also can’t deny his pity for the guy. “Should I take a leaf out of your book: Insubordination For Dummies?”

“I thought you of all people would somehow find a way around it, what with all those nasty thoughts squirming around in there.” He cauterises a blood vessel with an electric scalpel. There’s some nerve damage and a number of small arteries need to be reconnected - procedures that are beyond his abilities. Four will have to get a proper doctor back at home. “Assuming you can even manage rational thought at this point.”

Four doesn’t respond. Oh my god, he’s actually listening.

“Look, if it’s bothering you to this extent - damned if you do and damned if you don’t - go take care of this personal shit before you fuck up everything else.” He puts down the scalpel and picks up a suturing needle, sighing as he turns back to his subject. “If it’s that difficult, I’ll do what I can. Marclai will help, too.”

He braces himself for a smug quip, perhaps preceded by a coy, overly-affectionate coo.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t expect that. “Don’t thank me.” He waves it off with a soft grunt. “I just don’t want me, or him, or anyone else getting caught up in this mess because you’re worried about your woman.”

Four is only human, after all. The reminder rings once again in his head. And nothing is more human than the weakness for love.

-----

He squints at the scanned document on the screen. It looks like a scientific paper, impeccably formatted with LaTeX, complete with figures, tables, and equations. The author had identified himself as ‘Ivan Mikael Fore’.

The text, however, consists of just one word: chicken, over and over. He glances over to the page count: Page 1/34. “What’s this?”

“Something that came to the attention of the general himself. Apparently one of his close associates - a civilian, to boot - got tipped off with this piece of intelligence.” His boss sounds exasperated through his headset. “It looks like a prank, but there’s a hidden message in this apparent nonsense.” A PDF file is opened, with a short message occupying a tiny fraction of the page:

on ap ril twen ty nin th at ze ro thr ee hund red ho urs th ere will be an acci den tal deto nat ion of a seri es of six und isco ver ed la ndmi nes five po int two ki lome tres sou the ast of the ca mp

He recalls a conversation he had with Marclai a couple of weeks ago. Apparently Four had requested access to the secured bunker where all the yet-to-be-defused explosives from previous wars are kept, and asked to have the records rewritten so the missing items couldn’t be traced. There was also something about drawing up a circuit involving a timer.

“Do you know anything about this, Haekel?” His silence probably answered that question already. Shit. “This has Ilvait written all over it, don’t you think?”

“I can’t say for certain, ma’am.” He fumbles with the mic of his headset. “What camp is this, if I may ask? Does the general have an idea? Any matches with anything in our records?”

“The general thinks it’s Dzisna.” Oh, damn it, Four. “The Naveau name has been popping up mysteriously lately - someone bumped the Hrodna-Dzisna case up the priority list, the password access to files of missing personnel has been removed by an unknown hacker, and rumours are gaining traction. The media loves it, of course, and wants to know what the military’s doing about it.”

“My apologies, but I don’t know anything about this chicken manuscript, ma’am.” He leans back in his chair, feeling both amazed and exasperated. “I can have my associate dig into the server’s logs if you wish - do some data-mining, see if anything turns up.”

“That’d be useful. I’ll send you the details after further discussions with the unit, then.” His boss sighs. “It just seems like too much of a coincidence, with Ilvait volunteering to be deployed to that month-long recon mission in Azerbaijan. Is he trying to create an alibi for himself?”

“I really don’t have an answer for that, but I’ll see what we can do, Major General.”

He waits until the electronic security scan is complete before turning to his partner. “You helped him, didn’t you, Ilya?”

He really pulled a leaf out of your book, after all, Marclai signs from across the room. Since it’s for a righteous reason for once, I agreed. It reminds me of old times.

“I’d be impressed if he can pull this off.” He pulls off his glasses and rubs at his eyes. “Truth be told, I kinda hope he does.”

He will, if I’m backing him up.

-----

Okay, he’s impressed.

The Special Reconnaissance Unit had decided, in conjunction with General Naveau and the rest of intelligence, that the tip was genuine, and too good of a wave not to ride.

In the chaos provided by the ‘accidental detonation’, a small taskforce composed of volunteers stormed the place, and rescued the surviving prisoners - Four’s doctor among them. The base itself was heavily bombed to erase any evidence of the taskforce’s intrusion.

When Four returned from Azerbaijan, he was taken into custody almost straight off the plane, ferried back to headquarters, and questioned thoroughly and mercilessly, but there’s no solid evidence of his involvement, and his alibi was flawless.

He was even more pleased when the Major General decided to unofficially punish Four, anyway. He sure couldn’t say no to the offer.

“So… you’re my bitch for the next four weeks.” He pulls the most smug, snide, shit-eating smirk he can manage, and drops a stack of dusty binders on top of the pile of documents. It’s probably got nothing on Four’s face, but damn, it feels good. “Looking forward to all the old cases you’ll have the honour to look through?”

“I hate you so much,” Four grumbles, but there’s something behind his petulance - a hint of pride, and satisfaction. He’s back.

“Aww, is that the way to talk to your master?” He chuckles, and not entirely out of spite. “Aren’t you at least a little bit grateful you’re not in a worse situation right now?”

“I guess so.” Four shrugs, pouting as he turns back to his fort of files, and hunches over the computer. “I could be stuck with old case reports and not have air-conditioning.”

He laughs heartily at Four’s sign of defeat. He thinks things over, and after a few minutes of silence broken only by the white noise of fingers tapping away on a keyboard and shuffling through papers, he spins around in his swivel chair to address the man once more. “Did you see her?”

“Nope.” The typing and shuffling don’t pause for even a moment.

“Planning to?”

“Maybe when she gives her statement at the capital.” The man slaps a stained, crinkled stack of paper onto the end of the desk. “Probably not the right time for a catch-up over coffee, though.”

“Probably not.” He agrees. Still, it all feels so… sad - this secrecy, this distance, this unfulfilled longing. “Hey, Four?”

“Hmm?”

“I hope things work out for you.”

“Thanks.” The typing and shuffling stop. A sigh - miserable, weak, human. “I hope so, too.”

-----

He thought he was done dealing with his bullshit once he’s resigned from the unit, but in true Four fashion, the man has once again proved him wrong.

“What the fuck, Four?” He’s concerned - the man is properly dressed, but his complexion is pale, and there’s this disturbingly absent look in his eyes, but that doesn’t negate how angry he is at the former-agent putting the safety of himself and everyone around him at risk. Again. “Don’t tell me you went around looking like that - in case you’ve forgotten, you’re meant to be dead now, dumb shit.”

Four has the gall to look up at him - straight in the eyes, then simply shakes his head. “I covered my tracks.”

He allows Four to shove past him into his workshop, and watches as the man sheds his coat, scarf and gloves in turn, tossing it over his stained couch.

His eyes scan over his body, and stop at his right hand, which is covered in soiled, carelessly-wound bandages. The blood on it looks old.

He rolls his eyes and lets out a groan. “Sit your sorry ass down before you fall over and break something.” He digs under his desk for his medical kit, gnashing his teeth. He gets the feeling that this will be beyond his ability to fix. “Who and how did you fuck up, this time? You look like shit.” His stomach is flipping. Four isn’t an agent anymore. This wasn’t a mission - this was personal.

He fucked up someone as a personal errand.

Four still won’t talk to him, but at least he’s sat down on the couch. “I know you’ve been moving around.” He reaches for the bandaged hand, grabbing Four’s wrist rather roughly. “Ticking off that hit-list you’ve been compiling, right?”

Four is silent. He takes that as a ‘yes’.

“Did you catch and release?” He has to reduce his questions to yes-or-no ones; his friend looks damned near catatonic at this stage.

“No.” Ah, he spoke. “Took care of the last one.”

“And how long ago was that?” He peels off the bandages - blood and pus and iodine soak the dressing, sticking the layers together, and there’s no way he can be as gentle with it as he’d like. “Long enough for you to take piss-poor care of a simple cut and catch an infection.” He lets out an angry huff at the state of the wound - it’s probably once a neat gash across the palm, but infection has reduced it to a swollen, discoloured, feverish mess. He starts cleaning it with disinfectant.

Four is muttering. “I was in Dzisna.”

“…Fuck.” He can’t find a more suitable response. “You screwed up.” It wasn’t a question, because of course he did.

He’s only human. That place is haunted for him. No way he’d have gotten out of that unscathed.

He tries his best to get the details out of Four over the next hour as he worked on the wound, asking him short questions and prompting him to divulge. He learns enough to piece things together: Four has been committing to some vigilante work and tracked down those who’d wronged his doctor - his woman - in that camp. He’s appointed himself judge, jury, and executioner, and hit a roadblock when it came to his final victim.

The sergeant in charge of the camp; the man who’s allowed for the vicious abuse of his woman during her imprisonment there.

“No wonder you snapped. Damn it, Four.” He glances over at Marclai, making sure his patient is held still, before he tugs the piece of rusty, chipped scalpel out of Four’s palm. The man jolts, but the movement is much weaker than anticipated. “I know you have a lot of mechanical parts in you, but news flash: you’re still human. You have feelings. You’re not invincible.” He starts to suture the swollen, infected mess as best he can. “Don’t put yourself into stupid-ass situations like that, you extra son-of-a-bitch.”

Four doesn’t retort. He finds himself feeling too sorry for the man to scold him anymore, however much he deserves it. “Stay here for a while.” He suggests, and Marclai nods in agreement. “I have to order some shots for the technicolour mess that is your hand, and until you’re better, you’re staying here. I don’t want you passing out somewhere out there and risk exposing all of us.”

“Until I’m better, huh?” Four lets out a pathetic little snort.

I know; for people like us, things may never truly get better. Still– “Until you’re good enough to go back to your woman.” He tries to be firm. “No more stupid shit. Your woman doesn’t deserve to see you looking as fucked up as you do now.”

“Okay.” Four’s response has an edge of his obnoxious sarcasm, but when he opens his mouth to reassert his message, he fancies he can see tears in the former-agent’s eyes.

“Go lie down before you fall over.” He walks off; Marclai has long since disappeared. He understands it well - space and time are the only things that can make it better, now.

We’re all only human, after all.

#raindrop pendants #modern au #ophefic #lear #haekel #marclai

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