#years ago it was loose paper on a clipboard and now i just. write it in my head while planting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

phantomrose96 · 5 years ago

Text

Origin of a Non-Hero

Pro Hero Deku is not that tall of a man… In a simple white t-shirt and khakis, he’s not imposing at all. His 14 year old son, though much scrawnier in frame, is only an inch or two shorter than him.

Pro Hero Deku is not a cruel man. To the contrary, he cares too much, about all things at all times, about everyone and everything he can save if only it could come within his reach. The family counselor knows this. The counselor is surprised that, of all the world’s burdens Deku carries, it would be his family that slipped through his grasp.

Pro Hero Deku’s arms are gnarled and scarred, endlessly broken and re-broken in his youth from trying too much, and caring too much, and fighting too much for the sake of others. So why do they seem so awkward, so unpracticed, so unused to being wrapped in a hug around his son? Why was this boy the last thing for Pro Hero Deku’s arms to reach?

The counselor asks. The raw hurt of the session starts anew.

(This fic is long, heed the Read More)

...

11 people shared the same rigid wooden bench as Shikinori Midoriya. From the glances he stole, all 11 of them were handcuffed. An equal number of armed guards stood at the ready, crowding a waiting area meant to accommodate no more than 10 people. Shoulders rubbed shoulders. Sweat trickled from necks and hairlines. Dampness clung to skin and scales and fur and whatever other quirk-manifested coverings the 11 handcuffed men, and 11 guards, and Shiki bore.

A puttering fan spun in the corner, sad and wheezing and ineffective against the body heat of so many. Shiki kind of resented the fan for all the nothing it was accomplishing.

He leaned his weight into the sturdy bench arm to his left, opting to crush his guts into the furniture rather than lean on the man beside him, who was more knotted muscle and snake tattoos than he was man. Shiki looked again and concluded the man may even be more snake than man. Two sharp fangs stuck out from his mouth and tented his upper lip. His unmarked skin shimmered, a rippling repeated pattern of flesh-covered scales. His tongue shot out and licked the air, forked. Slit-pupiled eyes made momentary, awkward eye-contact with Shiki, and Shiki quickly pretended to be staring elsewhere.

The man seemed familiar. Some villain from some news headline. But Shiki couldn’t place a name, so he didn’t bother thinking about it more. He stared ahead, eyes drifting out of focus, hot. Uncomfortable and hot. Damp and stick-to-his-clothes-sweaty. Just…hot. Unnecessarily so. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. Maybe it wasn’t worth it. Maybe he’d been impulsive, and foolish, and should leave before he gets in any deeper.

The door beside Shiki creaked open. A wizened man with tiny, deep-set, watery eyes motioned him in. Shiki all but jumped to his feet. He tugged at the spots of his shirt that clung sweaty to his back, and he followed. The temperature dropped at least 20 degrees once he crossed the threshold into this new room. The door clicked shut behind Shiki. He startled, and felt a ripple of disquiet shiver down his spine, but Shiki chose not to dwell on it. He was more drawn to investigating the new room, which, he quickly discovered, came with its own kind of sensory-terrible-silence.

The waiting room had been terribly silent – chatterless and buffed with the sounds of breathing, wheezing, throat-clearing, shifting, shuffling, and the tinkering tangle of chains. This time it was an ambient buzz that blanketed the new room, thick and oppressive and syncopated, like a fly trapped in a jar. Shiki traced it to the fluorescent lights overhead. Under their pallor, the watery-eyed man looked half like death. He sat, and motioned for Shiki to sit too in the wooden chair directly across. A table separated them. On Shiki’s side, there was a set of iron cuffs drilled into the table-top, the sort where, if Shiki threaded his arms forward, he could be bolt-locked in place.

Shiki did not acknowledge the cuffs, and neither did the watery-eyed man. They made eye contact, and Shiki instantly understood: this man did not care about him. This man did not care about any of the other people in that waiting room. What gave it away was unclear – maybe the stiffness in his jaw, or the piercing deadness to his horrible ice-blue eyes, or the sterile too-large lab coat crumpling the man’s figure, or maybe none of that. Maybe it was pure human intuition, an instinct honed for survival, that one feels when encountering another human so bereft of empathy that it sticks along every individual neck-hair.

“Sit,” the man said. His tone was sharp, as though he’d been forced to repeat himself. That was somewhat true. He’d already motioned for Shiki to sit. Shiki had been too distracted by the cuffs on the table to comply. He was still distracted now, but he sat this time.

“I’m Dr. Matsuyama,” the man like death continued. He pulled a loose clipboard from the shelf just beneath his side of the table, and he dragged a slightly-trembling hand from his pocket, gray and liver-spotted, trailing an uncapped pen. His eyes became more like pits in this light, but Shiki could see a blue in them that was definitely inhuman. Which wasn’t saying much, since most of the population walked around in definitely inhuman ways. It was quirk-related, no doubt, but endlessly eerie to stare at.

There came a shuffle from the shadows, a shift in the back-left corner of the room that startled Shiki. He looked, and now locked eyes with a man dressed to the nines in an ill-fitting suit. The man pulled at his own lapel, straightening it, as though reading Shiki’s mind about the ill-fitting suit detail.

“Don’t mind Dr. Himura,” Matsuyama continued. “He’s leading the study, so he is observing. I’m conducting this session.” Matsuyama set pen to paper. “What is your name?”

“Shikinori Midoriya,” Shiki answered. “I go by Shiki, among friends.”

“Is there a reason for that?” Matsuyama’s voice had a papery tremble to it, like air whistling through the slit of a barely-cracked window. Listening to it was uncomfortable. Shiki could feel it like a shortness of breath in his own throat.

“Just preference.”

Matsuyama wrote something down.

“How old are you?”

“22.”

“Your quirk?”

“Gravity nullification.” Shiki raised his hands up, palms spread toward Matsuyama. “I can negate the gravity of anything I touch with my fingers, palms, or pads of my toes. Basically any part of my body that has this ridged skin.” He wiggled his wide-spread fingers. The weird fluorescent lighting threw the ridges into stark contrast, valleys of blackness ribbing his fingers, engulfed like Matsuyama’s eyes. “The quirk works on any sized object, but the time limit is shorter for bigger objects.”

Matsuyama let the silence linger as he wrote. His writings filled several lines this time, as Shiki had little else to do than watch the trail of the pen.

“Is your quirk patrilineal, matrilineal, or both?”

“Matrilineal.”

“How does it influence or impede your daily life?”

“It doesn’t much, really. I don’t need it. I don’t really use it. It’s forgettable.”

“What are the negatives to living with your quirk?”

Shiki shrugged. “None much, really, since I don’t use it.”

“Then what brings you here?”

“I mean, just that. I don’t need it. Does it have to be deeper than that?”

Matsuyama wrote. And he wrote for longer than before. Silence draped them again, and it amplified the buzzing from the lights. It was hot again, Shiki realized with agitation. His seat placed him right below the lights, a veritable stage light, targeting him to bake. His neck prickled with sweat. Buzzing. Like a fly in the jar. Fly in a jar, fly in a jar, that flies against the walls each which way and can’t get out, because there is no out, because the jar is sealed, and being unyielding to gravity is no help when the walls close on every side.

“…here?”

“Huh?” There’d been a question. Shiki had zoned out for--

“Did anyone offer you money to come here?”

“Not beyond the 1,500 yen per day,” Shiki responded, collecting himself. “You know, that you guys offered, that 1,500 yen, to cover transport and lunch. But nothing else. No.”

“Did anyone blackmail you to come here?”

“No.”

“Are there any extenuating circumstances to explain why you’re here?”

“None.”

Matsuyama stopped writing. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of Shiki’s neck, lost somewhere between his shoulder blades. He shifted, and rolled his shoulders a little, and edged his hands away from the wrist restraints on the table.

“Do you have any thoughts of self-harm?”

“No.”

“A history of violence?”

“No.”

“Do you consider yourself to be a danger to yourself or others?”

“No.”

“Any history of drug abuse?”

“No.”

“Alcoholism?”

“No.”

“Anxiety or depression?”

Shiki faltered. “I saw a therapist for a bit, a while ago, back when I was a teenager. But it wasn’t anything, like, extreme. You know? Just, stuff.”

“And how do you define ‘stuff’?”

“It—he was a family therapist. My parents are divorced so like, you know, I was a kid – well, a teenager – but that’s still a kid. I mean we saw the therapist when I was a teenager, but my parents divorced when I was 10 before I was a teenager so – the therapist – he was just for, you know, typical stuff. Typical divorced kid stuff.”

Matsuyama wrote, and wrote more, and at length, Shiki said nothing.

“How’s your relationship with your mother?”

“Fine.”

“How does she feel about your participation in this?”

“I dunno, really. I mentioned it to her like once but like, a while ago, before I decided on whether I wanted to do it but like… I dunno. That shouldn’t matter, right? I’m an adult.”

“How’s your relationship with your father?”

“You know, fine.”

“And how does he feel about your participation in this?”

“Like I said, does it matter?” Shiki pressed. He leaned forward, because he could feel his shirt sticking again in back. Under his arms, too. He was grateful for the dark color of his clothing, since Shiki knew from a glance to frumpy Himura that the harsh lighting was unforgiving on sweat stains.

“Is he against it?”

“He doesn’t know about it. Like, he’s busy. And I’m an adult. And it’s not like it’s his quirk or anything since I inherited it from my mom, and it’s my body so I think I should be the one who gets the final say in whether I do this or not don’t you think so?”

Matsuyama left the challenge unmet. It rung through the room around them and petered out to silence. Just an echo left dancing in Shiki’s head. Matsuyama wrote. He only wrote, and Shiki’s heart beat in his own ears.

“My job is to make sure you are of sound mind… uncoerced… unhindered by any self-destructive motivations...” Matsuyama’s pen did not break pace while he spoke, like an automaton. Like a puppet. Endlessly forward, unholy eyes shuffling along line by line. “The Quirk Ethics Board is strict. Dr. Himura has spent the better part of five years at odds with them to get this study off the ground. Be grateful to him, and be patient with me.” And his horrible eyes flickered up, pinning Shiki to the spot. “I can disqualify you, if I think you’re lying to me. So please, some patience, and some cooperation.”

Shiki’s whole body flushed with a shiver, and he realized that perhaps Himura was not the man he should be suspecting of a mind reading quirk.

He leaned back in his spotlight chair, and took a few deep breaths, and wondered how heated his cheeks were. Embarrassment always spiked a blush in them, and Shiki was ashamed to have let his composure slip.

“Your father… wouldn’t you like to tell him, first? There’s no reversing this. We encourage everyone who comes through this room to inform all family, all loved-ones first.”

“No. I don’t want to tell him. Because I know it’ll make him cry. And if I lose my nerve, and back out, I’ll probably never have this opportunity again. I need this decision to be my own.”

Shiki averted his eyes, away from Matsuyama, glancing left and finding himself staring back. A mirror spanned the length of the left wall. A few feet worth of cinderblock stretched from the floor-up, and the ceiling-down, meeting at a mirror that lobbed Shiki’s own reflection back at him. Freckles and green eyes and tousled chestnut hair and cheeks heated with shame and embarrassment.

A one-way mirror. Shiki wondered if there was anyone standing on the other side of it, watching, judging.

The silence lingered, heavier, denser somehow. It took Shiki a few moments to process what had changed.

The scratch of Matsuyama’s pen had vanished. He was not writing. He was staring, instead, at Shiki. Plain to see in the mirror. Waiting for Shiki to face him again. Reluctantly, Shiki looked.

“Your father… is a busy man, you said. He must be very very busy… Shikinori Midoriya.” Matsuyama shuffled his papers into place, and set the clipboard down on the interrogation desk. “If your name, and your appearance, and the leagues and leagues of advertisements, and news headlines, and television specials I see every day paint an accurate picture of who, I suspect, your father is.”

Shiki breathed out, jaw clenched, feeling that familiar dread settle in. He heard a noise from Himura, like a tiny pip, a single note of recognition that Shiki had become well attuned to: that sound of someone putting the dots together, the look in their eyes as they roved over Shiki’s face, as though suddenly giddy to understand his freckles and green eyes and curly hair.

“Midoriya?” Himura leaned forward, pushing himself off the back wall and shuffling a bit forward. His eyes were wide and probing, mutedly eager. “Oh I see – yeah – I see it – you look just like him – but – pardon my interruption, son, but – why would you ever consider participating – here in my study – why I can’t dream of – I don’t think I could be responsible for -“

“Don’t,” Shiki shot back. He braced his back against the chair once more, letting the wave of dread pass. “Don’t… Don’t finish what you’re going to say.”

“The boy is right, Himura,” Matsuyama said, and he did not look at his colleague. “This is my interview. And you are only here to observe. You are out of line.”

“R-right,” Himura breathed, flushing red, yet still clearly riding out his confusion, his giddiness. He pulled a small kerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the sweat along his receding hairline. “My apologies, M-Mr. Midoriya.”

“Just call me Shiki…”

“Yes, Shiki, we should get back on track,” Matsuyama proceeded. He picked his clipboard up once more and flipped another page. Shiki tried counting the number of sheets that wrapped spiral-like over top. More than he had realized – 10 or maybe 12 pages thick, at this point. Matsuyama’s pen tip tapped to paper once more. “I want to be clear: you are entitled to have your own reason for following through with this. But you may not hide it from me and expect to participate. I am the deciding factor here. Do not lie.”

With that, Shiki felt the last of the vigor in his spine drain away. He slumped forward some, and avoided eye contact with Matsuyama, and Himura, and his own reflection in the mirror which he resented so strongly at this very moment.

“So tell me, boy,” Matsuyama paused to pull in a rattling breath, “why do you want us to erase your quirk?”

“It’s complicated,” Shiki muttered.

“I’m quite good at complicated,” Matsuyama countered.

“It’s… My dad… You figured it out already, right? Izuku Midoriya… He’s the #1 Hero.” The words felt plastic, leaving Shiki’s throat. Artificial. Manufactured. A thing repeated en-masse by television hosts and podcasts and commercials and fan events and—

Shiki breathed.

“He wasn’t always. …Well, duh, I guess, of course… That sounds obvious to say but I mean it as – as in that – back when I was born, Dad was the #361 Hero. At least in the one ranking suite that stretched all the way to the top 500 heroes. Most ranking organizations only did top-250 at best. And the National Rankings only do top-75. He was a still a sidekick then. So was my mom. She didn’t even appear in the top 500. And I think being pregnant with me, and me being born, and taking care of me – I think that set her back even more.”

Shiki leaned forward, elbows set to the table, eyes boring deep into the scratched and stained wood. There were deeper gouges near the sharp corners of the arm restraints.

“When I was old enough to start remembering things is around when I got my quirk, because most of my oldest memories are of my mom playing gravity games with me in our apartment. She’d make my toys float and I’d make them float too and she’d bop them, like with her head, bop them all around and I thought that was the funniest thing. I used to think everyone could cancel gravity because that was so much of my world, just me and my mom.”

Ochaco Midoriya was just barely 23, and her hair had grown long enough to wear in a bun every day. Her off-the-shoulder white shirt spelled out URAVITY in bubble letters across the front. A short release. Only 100 shirts sold, half of them to friends and family. Her son Shiki lay on the carpet, small pudgy hands grabbing at fistfuls of air above him, reaching for her, his footy-jammied feet kicking. His fingers were ridged. He’d have her quirk someday. She pulled out the stuffed frog from behind her back (FROPPY logo emblazoned on the tummy) and papped it gently forward. Into the air. Where it hung and spun, lazily adrift. Shiki let out a shriek of joy. Ochaco smiled, and cupped Shiki’s hands in hers, and kissed them.

“My dad… um… he was out most of the day, almost the whole day, on weekdays at least, when I was young. And I was proud of him for that especially when I got old enough to understand what heroes and villains were because like, that was my dad, out there every single day putting in more effort than anyone else, you know? It never even seemed that weird, to like, that I didn’t have him around. I had Mom, and Dad was a hero.”

The little leaguers were all 5 or 6 years old, adorned in fluorescent pinnies and tiny little soccer cleats. They ran the way little kids run – with too much force in every stilted step, no grace, all fierce concentration, feet slamming heavy into grass and balled fists swinging. The ball came above their knees, and they kicked by running into it full-force.

Tatsuya bodied the ball into the opposing goal, and he was met with a chorus of applause from his mother and father on the sidelines. It was the first time Shikinori Midoriya noticed – Tatsuya had a dad. He looked, and saw so many dads. And it was strange. Weren’t they heroes? Weren’t they busy?

Ochaco stood alone. She waved a big wide sweeping wave when she noticed Shiki looking. She whistled for him. The ball knocked into Shiki. He forgot to wave back.

“I remember… Most of my memories of him, from when I was little, were on weekends. But not always, I mean not all weekends. He patrolled through weekends too. But if we got a weekend off, then we’d do some activity with him. Me, Mom, all of us together. It was my favorite. But weekdays, I never saw him. He left before I woke up and came home after I was in bed. I stayed up sometimes, in secret, to listen for him at the door. But a lot of nights I fell asleep first, or some nights he never even came home. I actually, I think I started to see him more on television, from news reporters, than I did in person…”

A head-to-toe child’s onesie which was a flannel plushy mock-up of Pro Hero Deku’s uniform. Shiki wore it, bunny ears and all, sitting in his mother’s lap in front of the television. Ochaco sat with her back against the couch, on the floor. The sun had set around them. The news had trickled on to its fourth recap of Deku’s apartment arson rescue.

~”A civilian recording that is SURE to capture a nation’s heart! As Pro Hero Deku emerges from the blazing building with three tenants, mother father and child, slung across his back – look – there! Oh what a winning smile that boy’s got, hasn’t he? Saving people with a smile! It makes me nostalgic for the age of All Might, to our viewers old enough to remember the Symbol of Peace before his retirement. Maybe Deku is someone who can spark that hope back into the new generation, what do you think, folks?”~

“15 more minutes, Shikinori, then it’s time for bed,” Ochaco told Shiki, bouncing him on her leg.

“But I wanna stay up for Dad! I wanna tell him we watched him on the news!” Shiki pointed a stubby finger to the freeze-frame of his father on the television, all tousled hair and sweat, bearing the weight of three others on his back, a veritable Atlas, smiling. Smiling smiling. Shiki gave the same smile as his dad, beaming at his mom.

“You’ll see him tomorrow; you can tell him then.”

The smile dropped from Shiki’s face. He looked forward to the television again. “I’m not gonna see him tomorrow. Tomorrow’s Tuesday and I don’t ever see Dad on Tuesday.”

~”I hear we’ve got an interview with a civilian who was on-site during the disaster. We’re cutting to him now!”~

“…30 more minutes, okay then, Honey?” Ochaco said. “We’ll wait up 30 more minutes for Dad.”

Shiki’s hand twitched. His eyes were locked on the shackles, and slowly, experimentally, he rested his wrists in the cuffs. Could the table hold him down with his quirk?

“And by the time I was 7, he broke into the top-100 heroes. Within another three years, he was top-50. Newspapers called it mind-blowing to see someone like that jump the ranks so quickly. He blew past Ground Zero and Ice Razer, who you know are like, #2 and #3 now. It was crazy. Like, he got way more attention for how quickly he was jumping than for his actual rank. The papers said he was working inhuman hours. That even heroes with time quirks and clone quirks couldn’t be as everywhere as he was… I have clippings saved. Or I did. I might have gotten rid of them when Mom and Dad divorced.”

Shiki clinked his wrists against the shackles, metal wrist watch ringing hollow against the cuffs.

“Which is, that was something I found out on my 10th birthday. They didn’t mean for me to know but I was staying up past my bed time to play the new Hero Smash game they got me – the one Dad was finally in -- and I heard them arguing just a bit too loud about something, and them arguing was kinda common at that point, so I paused the game to listen and… yeah… divorce… It was, you know, a pretty tame divorce, I think. Like, I can’t really complain about it, compared to some of the stuff other kids go through. Cuz Mom and Dad still acted friendly and tried to settle things on good terms but, you know, it showed. I’d go into Mom’s room and hold her, some nights, when I heard her crying. And she’d sob and say ‘I still love him’ and I never knew what to say back, but, I’m –that’s, anyway. Anyway.”

Ochaco Midoriya, 32 years old. She kept the last name. It would be easier, in terms of legal hassle, and it would be easier on her son, who she had full custody of.

Her empty bed had been the norm for years, now. Deku had gotten into the habit of working through the nights, stealing naps on his cot at the agency. But now it was the cold reminder, the knowledge, that he wasn’t ever coming back to this bed that stole Ochaco’s breath and made it short. Made her heart squeeze. Forced noises past her lips that she tried to keep in.

“Mom?” Shiki’s eyes, wide with concern, at the side of her bed. He held his hands together, ridged fingers, ridged palms, the little fingers she used to kiss.

He reached a hand out, and patted her shoulder, tip toes, leaning over the bed. He should be crying too.

Shiki pulled his hands back, rubbing at his wrists. His cheeks were flushed, embarrassment creeping through his system as his own words echoed back at him. Those things he’d rarely told anyone. “Am I… is this too much detail? I can dial it back. It’s just, um, I feel like the context is important for you to like… know why I’m—not write me off as—”

“This is fine, continue. If you say anything unnecessary, I can simply not write it down,” Matsuyama waved his free hand dismissively. The pen in his other hand danced, still, across the page.

Shiki cleared his throat. “Anyway, I lived with Mom after that. And when I was a little older she told me more about it and basically just. ‘He loves All Might more than he loves me,’ she said. Not the person, but the… idea. Like the concept of All Might. It’s who my Dad was so driven to be since the very beginning and… My mom couldn’t take being secondary anymore… And I realized then that, I was part of that too. I didn’t need saving, so I came second. My mom put her hero career on hold to raise me but he, um, he just couldn’t do that. Who he was as a person was so, unfixably tangled up in becoming that All Might in his mind that, he couldn’t sacrifice that. Not for me. Not for my mom.

“And when they finally divorced, and he moved out and into this just… terrible tiny unfurnished apartment, which I only saw twice – two years apart – and both times it looked the same. Nothing in there. Almost like no one was really living there. A futon and a closet and a rice cooker in the corner and boxes and All Might merch on the wall.”

Shiki was 11, sitting on a packed cardboard box against the red-brick wall of his dad’s apartment. Still-packed boxes lined most of the walls, like a misshapen and dull lego construction. Red brick, brown cardboard, All Might smiling from every wall. It was an apartment unlived-in, and that aspect was nearly unfathomable to Shiki. His dad had been moved out for over four months.

“Pretty great, huh?” Deku said, gloved finger pointing to the wall of All Mights. Deku’s smile was bright, his excitement genuine. “The one on the far left was a limited release from 50 years ago. One of my super-fans tracked it down for me and mailed it. Can you believe it?”

Shiki nodded. All the posters looked the same to him.

“But um, after the divorce is when he really skyrocketed. Everything before was child’s play. I was… dizzy. I was 11, and starting middle school, and had just lost my dad only to have him be everywhere but… not my dad. Not there for me. But everywhere, on billboards, in newspapers, on television. Kids at school would hear my last name and they’d ask ‘Midoriya – Like Izuku Midoriya? Like Deku?!’ and I’d have to just say yeah while they applauded or like, even smacked me on the back sometimes like I had any choice in that, and would ask questions about him that, I couldn’t answer, cuz he wasn’t my dad anymore. His fans in my class knew things about him that I didn’t. Sometimes little things like favorite color but sometimes big things, whole things from his childhood that I never heard about. They’d ask me things about him and that’s when I realized I didn’t know my dad at all.”

Shiki glanced up, and saw Himura look away in embarrassment.

“He’d been kidnapped, as a kid, had saved Ground Zero twice, took down a murderer with Ice Razer and Ingenium, had his mentor die during a rescue mission. I had to hear these things from people I didn’t know. And I felt just, selfish, every time I learned something new. Especially the things that happened after I was born. Because how do you sit and hear someone tell you a story about the time your dad saved their grandma from a collapsed bridge and just… how can you justify feeling resentful about that? How selfish do you have to be to think, ‘he should have been spending that night at home with me and my mom, and not saving your grandma.’ I hated it. I started to hate hearing about him.”

His hands were shaking now, slightly, Shiki realized. His breathing too came in too fast and too raspy. He set his wrists back in the open restraints, and breathed out.

“And just… by the time I was 12, Dad made Top 20. And then when I was 13, he was Top 10. …And I think at that point he really, truly didn’t feel like my dad anymore. Because he was just, some God to the world. Someone people fawned over by the millions and, just, that was better, actually. Because I could really just act like he wasn’t my dad, had nothing to do with me. Maybe I was at peace with that. I could do the 20-minute phone calls once a week and be courteous with him and answer questions about school and just, move on…”

Shiki walked the same street every day to school, the same route with the same turns, the same backpack slung over one shoulder. But the scenery changed. New advertisements. New billboards. New screens projecting, dancing, twirling, screening, screaming. Deku brand hand cream. Deku brand baby clothes. Deku brand clutch purses. Headlines with stills of Pro Hero Deku printed on the front page. Upcoming: interview with Pro Hero Deku! Everywhere. Growing like mushrooms. The likeness almost like the one in Shiki’s mirror every morning. The likeness of a man quickly fading from memory, quickly replaced by advertisements and stills over flesh and blood. Shiki felt eyes on him, every day, from people who saw the resemblance. Or maybe not. Maybe he imagined it. Maybe no one was looking at him at all.

The wrist restraints were cold.

“And I started to see Mom less and less, around that time. I was old enough to take care of myself mostly so she, she took up patrolling again. Started rising the ranks quickly too… Mostly because the tabloids loved her, and circulated her name as much as they could, as the ex-wife of Deku… They said horrible things that I—still I—even thinking about them just. Vile horrible things about her and Dad, and why Dad left her, and why she left Dad, and ‘Deku fans’ piling on her calling her trash and filth and whore and, insulted her for keeping his last name until, eventually, she did change it back and… I stopped reading those but… that’s how hero work works. Whatever gets your name out there, and gets you recognized, so that your rescues get camera time and screen time and … She at least got to make her own name, once she got recognized. Her own rescue efforts spoke for themselves. Saved over 75 people from the rubble of a collapsed building and, s-she broke top-100 that same year. I wanted to be happy for her. I wanted to… but the house was so empty.”

13 year old Shiki unlocked the front door. He flicked the lights, and they blazed through the pitch blackness beyond the foyer. There was a sterile cleanliness inside, the subtle sting of lemon in the back of his throat. Between his mom’s new notoriety and his dad’s hefty child support, they could afford a personal cleaner now. Twice a week. She must have come. The apartment was spotless.

Shiki turned on the television and rooted through the cabinet and emerged with a box of cereal. He didn’t bother with a bowl. He sat on the couch instead, scrolling his phone with one hand, grabbing fistfuls of cereal with the other. The news mentioned ‘Uravity’ and Shiki turned it up. He listened to the reporters until they spiraled into her failed marriage with Pro Hero Deku, and Shiki listened no further.

He focused on his phone instead, cereal crunching. Most of the forums he followed were Uravity forums. He paused on a particular cross-posting, shared by someone irate over the click-bait bottom-feeding publications that drew readership with manufactured drama. Shiki read the headline. ~”‘She took our son!’ Pro Hero Deku sobs in a raw tell-all about the woman who broke his heart and tore apart his family to launch her own career.”~

There was a boy pictured in the article. The boy wasn’t even Shiki.

“I was 13 still, and we were moving from the apartment into a nice house, because Mom’s salary and Dad’s child support were now more than enough for a proper place. A nice place. And I did most of the house cleaning and packing myself since Mom was now so so busy… And I found, in the attic, my old box of toys, the gravity ball toys the—the ones where—me and Mom used to bop them back and forth and I… think I just… I threw them away. And the old newspaper clippings I kept about Dad. Threw them all away. Never made it to the new house. I hated them. I hated them.”

Shiki pressed his back against the attic wall, suddenly short of breath, static suddenly in his legs and rippling down his spine. He slid down, slowly, streaking the layer of dust along the wall, just like his hands had streaked away the dust on the boxes, gray lint filling the ridges on his finger tips. He stared at the layer of yellowed newsprint, the top article boasting ~”No Longer Just A Side-Kick? ‘Deku’ Makes His Agency Debut!”~

It filled him with revulsion, with a choking hurt in the ways that modern news headlines didn’t. He had forgotten the feeling associated with these old headlines. That old forgotten excitement of knowing that news outlets had come to acknowledge his dad’s existence.

Not his dad anymore. Not his. Izuku Midoriya lived in newsprint now. The media owned him, had stolen him slowly. A superhuman. A god. Not a husband. Not a father. Not Shiki’s.

“He called on the phone once a week. Just once a week, to talk about nothing. Until I was 14, that is. Once I turned 14, suddenly Dad was eager to be on the phone with me. And he’d act like he was interested in talking to me about normal stuff, but it always came back to U.A. Always U.A. Asking if I wanted to. Asking if I’d thought about it. Asking if I had any questions that he or Mom could answer about the school.”

Shiki’s voice caught.

“…Still… still makes me angry. And he just didn’t realize. I realized he had no idea. At all. Whatsoever. That what he’d done was… might have been wrong. I realized and it blew my mind. That nothing he did was ever, ever malicious. He was, is, thought he was a good person. Working so hard to save everyone. Absolute strangers. As many, as much, as endlessly eternally as he could. And he… thought I idolized that. That I looked at him and Mom and wanted to… do them proud and follow in their footsteps. And I saw him through… his own eyes I guess… and he was the world’s hero and the next All Might and the rising Symbol of Peace and he didn’t think he’d abandoned me, or Mom, he thought he’d just left us to catch up… I think he talked my mom back into heroing. Because they stayed friends, or ‘friends’, whatever you call two people who get along great so long as they ignore all the hurt between them. And… he… wanted me to enroll in U.A… THAT… was when I finally snapped at him, and we got family counseling.”

Silently, Matsuyama set his pen down, and he slid across the table a box of tissues Shiki had not noticed him take out. And Shiki took one, shocked to pad it against the stream of tears he hadn’t noticed rolling down his cheek. He stole one more glance into the mirror, ashamed of the puffy-eyed and blotchy-cheeked reflection. His dad’s freckles. His mom’s chestnut hair. He was designed piece-meal from them. No part his own. No part himself. The buzzing, overhead. Fly in the jar. Uncaring of gravity. Eternally confined to the jar’s unseeable walls.

“I saw Dad in person, for the first time in 2 years, when we went to that counselor.” Shiki let out a strained laugh. “I had literally… misremembered things about him. I had remembered him being taller but, the media just loved to prop him up at certain angles that made him taller. In street clothes, in person, he almost didn’t look like Pro Hero Deku. …And even smaller, when he cried. Because he did cry, during counseling, like honestly cried. And he apologized. I’d never – I didn’t think I would ever get an apology from him. Or like I couldn’t ask for one, didn’t deserve one, because that would be selfish. But he owned up to it… Dad cared. Dad was sorry. Dad had no idea I was this hurt. Dad thought I idolized heroes too and that he was making me proud. And I thought it would work. I thought we would finally fix this all.”

The counselor asks. The raw hurt of the session starts anew.

“I was finally able to tell him just, how invisible I felt to him. How selfish it made me feel. He listened. He cared. He stopped shilling for U.A. I went into a normal high school, one without a hero track. And the first weekend of the school year, Mom, me, and him went to an aquarium, and dinner at a fancy restaurant, and a play in the evening. I don’t like plays but, I liked that play. A lot.”

Shiki crumpled the used tissue in his hand, and then hid it beneath the table. It was wet and tainted and felt unclean in his hand, but there was no garbage can in sight, and he had nothing else he could do with it.

“And that was when Dad slipped a rank, that next month. From #7 to #8. It shouldn’t have mattered so much but, it did. He’d never fallen rank before… No actually, even worse, he’d never even stayed the same rank from one ranking release to the next. He was always climbing. For almost 20 straight years, always climbing, and this was the first time, the very first time he… Dad didn’t mention it. I didn’t mention it. But in my mind I’ve always blamed this as the like, as the turning point, toward turning back down. In reality I don’t know that for sure. Maybe our whole family was just, always destined to slip back on old habits, right from the start. It’s not like he or Mom ever went back on any promises or anything. But more like… Dad slowly stopped proposing weekend activities, and so did Mom. Until it was just me putting in that effort, and I couldn’t be the cause of him falling rank anymore. I couldn’t be the bad guy.”

Shikinori Midoriya’s blood ran cold. Red. The name, the arrow, downward-pointing, -1. Red. Red where there had only ever been green. “#8” in red, which bore no value and no merit beyond the unsightly embarrassment of being below #7.

There were sharks in the water.

Shiki knew it would be only hours until the most predatory, the most inflammatory think-piece writers pounced. Until hero forums buckled under every single anonymous layperson’s expert opinion on where, and how, and why Deku had stumbled. Was his rescue count down? Was his collateral coefficient up? Were merch sales dropping? Had his new figurine bombed? Had a hostage died? Had he yelled at a reporter? Was it the joint rescue with his money-grubbing ex-wife? His incident resolution was abnormally low two Saturdays back. Why? Where had he been? What was he thinking?

Shiki read the theories. He told himself to stop, but the scroll loaded endlessly. Some fans honed in on that weekend – the aquarium trip – fascinated by the dip in resolved incidents, circling like vultures, pecking, tearing, probing. They found an Instagram post from a fan spotting Deku in the crowd of the hammerhead exhibit, and the link got passed around like an electric current.

Had this happened a month ago, a year ago, Shiki might have just watched it unfold disaffected. Shiki’s chest ached now. He hurt for the man his mind had reconciled as his father, for the man who mimicked the guppies and pressed against the glass in the aquatic tunnel, cheeks puffed and scarred hands flapping by his ears. Shiki ached for the genuine laughter from his mother, who still loved this man and his guppy imitation. He ached for the reminder of what his family was, and what it wasn’t, and what it was punished for even trying to be.

“His agency and Mom’s started collaborating a lot. They were good together. Like really good. The two of them together, I saw a new story almost every week. Maybe I was even a little jealous but… it wasn’t something I wanted to be a part of, anyway. So I was fine with that. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t – and don’t – want to be a hero.

“I just kind of… tried to figure myself out as a person, by myself, during high school. I kept a low profile. Joined a math club. Only really talked to a few people most days. Had like, two people I sort of saw as friends. I started going by my mom’s name, Uraraka. Never told people who my parents were. And I think that was for the best, because I was still in school – I was 17 – when Dad claimed the #1 spot. …and I swear I would have had to transfer schools if my classmates knew I was Deku’s kid.”

“Front Page” did not begin to describe the explosion, the eruption, the maelstrom of obsession that gripped an entire nation’s heart and soul when Pro Hero Deku unseated the previous #1. The new report came just days after Deku performed his 10,000th recorded civilian rescue. In honor, dedicated fans had gone and compiled every drop of video coverage that ever graced Deku’s career. It was chronological, starting with grainy film 20 years’ outdated of a still-scrawny U.A. sidekick pulling a man out of rubble, and progressed like a time-lapse from there. A rescue counter sat super-imposed on the bottom-right, documenting the rescues as Deku grew taller, broader, more confident, more practiced, faster and stronger and beaming – always beaming – with a smile to instill hope in an entire nation. The whole montage was two hours in length, and it skyrocketed to the #1 trending.

A half-dozen other videos followed in its wake: a clip of Deku shaking hands with the President who pinned a simple, proper, dignified medal to the front of his costume. A shaking, trembling, sobbing hug with the skeletal and spindly public figure of Toshinori Yagi – previously known as All Might – who teared up along with Deku on stage. Chants of “Symbol”. Chants of “Peace”. Chants, louder than all others, of “Deku”.

Everywhere. Everywhere. Replaying. Tagged. Suggested. Trending. Featured. A kiss with Uravity, tender and subtle and full of passion. A handshake with Shota Aizawa, his first teacher, his long-time peer. Endless interviews with rescued victims. Tear-jerkers. A man named Kota recalling how Deku, at 15, saved him from a certain violent death. A woman named Eri detailing how Deku had taken her in his arms and rescued her from the depths of Hell.

Thousands others followed. Spine-tingling recounts from voices, with breath and warmth and life, who wouldn’t be alive without Deku. They heaped their praises on a man so endlessly driven, forward forward forward, that he could save 10,000 people, and 10,000 more, and everyone, and everything he could touch.

Shiki skipped school the whole next week. Hardly anyone noticed.

“So I got away. Far away. I figured out college all by myself, and got accepted to my top choice 1,000 kilometers away from Tokyo, and it was perfect for me, because maybe then I could figure myself out for a bit, away from everything. Mom asked me to reconsider when I finally saw her in person four days after I’d accepted. She’d been on a sting mission for two straight weeks. They saved fifty people. It earned her her spot as the #15 Hero. My dad had saved twice as many people in that time. Not that I heard it from him. I heard it on the news. I didn’t speak to him again until after I graduated.”

Shiki breathed. “College… was good. It was far away enough that I stopped being afraid of people recognizing me at a glance. I made real friends. I had real relationships. Got to know my professors. Took up tutoring and loved it. I… did things on the weekends, like with friends, went places, saw things, I was happy. Genuinely happy. All these things I never realized I was missing as a kid because I never realized I could have an identity outside of being just… Deku’s reject son. I stopped fearing that and started to be me. I traveled during school breaks. Took some pottery classes. Just… breathed.” Shiki’s hands fidgeted. “At least… until I graduated. And I realized there was a whole cliff I was standing over that I was just avoiding. I didn’t have a job lined up. I tried. For absolute certain. I lost count around the 75 application mark. Nothing. My college friends moved away. My funds were drying up. …I moved back home.”

One duffle bag, slung across his right shoulder, was all Shikinori Midoriya brought home with him. This big house from his teenage years was empty. Endless untouched rooms. Pristine duvets across the beds in all 5 bedrooms, including master. Empty dressers. Empty drawers. Not so much as fingerprints on the front doorknob. Only his mom lived here now, and Shiki fought with the blooming certainty he felt in his gut that she spent almost no time here at all.

Uravity was now the #7 hero. Her merch sales were particularly popular with girls ages 5-12. The money she raked it was enough to put her parents up permanently in a beach house in Hawaii. Money would likely never be a worry for her for as long as she lived. She likely never sold this home because it simply wasn’t worth the hassle.

Shiki set his bag down in his old room, bigger and cleaner and newer and nicer than his college apartment, and so much more a cage than it had ever been before.

Fly in a jar.

“Moving home was… a rough choice. I thought a lot, before that, about just asking Mom and Dad for money. They could definitely afford it. But I couldn’t… be that again, the reject son, some unwanted parasite, pilfering money. I just needed enough stability to get back into the job hunt and get back on my feet. I told Mom that much. I didn’t tell Dad. Didn’t even tell him I’d moved back home but, he found out from Mom. He wanted to see me. Wanted to talk to me. I’d ignored all his calls in college… I decided to bite the bullet and just, go into his office and see him. Let him lay eyes on his failure son. Get it over with. I told him about college, and about my job hunt, and just needing enough time to get back on my feet. And you know what he said?”

Matsuyama glanced up. His pen still trailed. “What did he say?”

“’I could use another accountant at the agency, even a receptionist, if you don’t want to deal with crunching numbers. Given some time and training… I could even use another side kick.’” Shiki looked up, locking eyes with Matsuyama, and blinked away the tears blurring his vision. “Math… was my best subject in school. I want… to be a math teacher. I’ve been sending out a hundred applications for teaching positions. Dad doesn’t know that. Dad… is still living in this world where everything is heroes. And of course he is! He’s lived there his whole life! He never left it! And he’s still waiting for me to join. Waiting for me to change my mind. Like time is the only factor. That world stole my parents and he… and he still thinks that, things can be fine, he can get his way. He thinks, I’ll do what my mom did, and play catch up to him. That I’ll come into my own. That I’ll join him in his hero world. Him and Mom both. That I would want anything to do with heroes. He won’t believe otherwise.”

Shiki struck an open palm against his chest. “Well he’s not getting that. He’s NOT getting this quirk! Not now! Not ever! I’m GETTING RID OF IT. I want to be part of Dr. Himura’s Quirk-Erasure study because, until I’m fully stripped of my Quirk, my Dad and my Mom won’t get it. I know – all those guys out in the waiting room? I know they’re all villains. Probably this whole study is villains, yeah?! They’re all people who’ve been offered reduced sentences if they willingly give up their quirk in this study. Maybe you have a few normal people with dangerous quirks who want to be rid of it but me. My quirk. I stand out, I know, I get it. Because gravity control is cool. And it’s harmless. So why would I want to get rid of it, permanently? This is why. Because everything I’ve spouted off, it, all that probably sounds like some villain-origin-story, yeah?? ‘My hero father never loved me so now he will pay.’ No. No heroes and no villains I’m sick of all of them. This ends here. This ends with me! No more heroes, no more villains. No more POWERS in the Midoriya blood line! This is a non-origin story. This is the origin of me! This is the start of me taking back what heroes took from me!”

Shiki’s breath caught in his throat. He felt the tears wetting his cheeks and knew he had no power to stop them this time, not with the mangled tightness in his chest, not with the hurt bubbling long-repressed to the surface. So he wiped hastily at his eyes, and he stared down at the desk below him.

“I’ve thought this through. I know what I want. I’m not being coerced. I’m of a sound mind and body. I just… want a normal, happy, powerless life. I want to be normal. And I need this final leap, to prove to my family once and for all they can’t have me. I need this control. I need this trump card. I need this final, unchangeable, irreversible option to make them get it. That they can accept me quirkless… or they can not accept me at all.” Shiki lowered himself, and set his eyes to his lap. “Please… Please, I’m begging you.”

Matsuyama let the pen clink to the table. Shiki could not get an accurate count, but at least 40 pages had been flipped over the clipboard’s spiraled top. Matsuyama unfurled these pages, and steadied their alignment, and tucked the board beneath his arm. His chair scraped back with an unholy shriek, and he stood.

“Thank you. We will let you know in due time about your candidacy in the study.”

Matsuyama motioned for the door.

“Wait…” Shiki swallowed. His mouth had gone dry. His ears were ringing slightly. “Can’t you tell me now?”

“The decisions have not been made. How can I tell you now?”

“What about just me then? Y-yes or no?”

“You will be informed in due time.”

“When? How soon?”

Matsuyama motioned again.

“Yes or no? Please. Can you let me be part of this or not?”

“The next patient is coming in, Shiki. See yourself out.”

…

Inko Midoriya’s apartment was small, and it was stayed, and it was comfortable. Her son had offered her time and time again to move her into a nicer place, but she always declined. This apartment was where she’d raised her family. These walls had memories. This was her home.

It felt almost like a memory, just now. Out of the corner of Inko’s eye, seeing the young man with curly hair and green eyes seated at her kitchen table was achingly familiar, the ghost of family dinners with her son.

10 minutes had passed since Inko pulled the rack of cookies from the oven, a warm miasma of buttery sweetness, and laid them out to cool. She grabbed one now, quick touches, experimentally, until the heat didn’t quite burn her fingers, and placed it on a plate. She did the same with a second cookie, and carried them like a server to the table where she took the seat opposite Shiki. He watched her, and accepted the cookie with a quiet ‘thank you’, and merely stared at it. He let the warmth wash across his face.

“I’m happy to have you back around Tokyo, you know,” Inko said quietly. She looked down at her own cookie, smiling slightly, and picked it up. “Happy to have someone to bake for.”

“I’m happy to see you too, Grandma. It’s been a while.” Shiki bit into his cookie. It was warm, and soft, and achingly comforting. Shiki wasn’t used to the taste of homecooked anything. It squeezed something in his ribcage, made him hurt in a gentle way. “It’s delicious,” he whispered, and raised the heel of his palm to wipe the wetness there.

“You can… you know you can stay with me, Shiki. I’d be happy. I want you to. I know it’s not as big a place as Ochaco’s home, but, Izuku’s old room is still here. There’s still… You could still…”

Shiki shook his head. “If I stay with you, it’ll be so much harder to leave. I’m still job hunting. No guarantees I’ll end up anywhere near here.”

The silence spread between them. The warmth of Shiki’s cookie wafted away, sapping off, like steam curling from a lake.

“…You don’t want to end up living around here, do you, Shiki?”

“Not if I can help it,” Shiki answered.

Inko turned in her chair, and motioned her hand toward the rest of the cookies cooling on the rack. Quirk activated, she pulled them each closer, and let them each fall onto the empty plate that sat between her and Shiki. Still gooey, they seemed to melt into each other, taking form of those beneath them. Inko nudged the plate closer to Shiki, encouraging him to take another.

He did. He bit the cookie. Warm.

“…I’m sorry, Shiki, about the study. I know you had your heart set on it.”

Shiki shrugged. “Matsuyama said there weren’t enough slots. He said he needed to prioritize better candidates. People who would really benefit from losing their quirk.”

Silence, again.

“It wouldn’t have changed things, you know. If it makes you feel any better, Shiki. You having a quirk was never the problem."

Shiki paused mid-bite. The lump in his throat made it too hard to swallow.

“How do you deal with it, Grandma? You’ve been dealing with it so much longer, right? Because I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

Inko gave him a small smile that didn’t quite touch her eyes. “You’re right, but… I don’t think I have a good answer for you, Shiki. It’s lonely here. I miss him. I’m afraid for him. But maybe I’m just, maybe I’ve just gotten used to it. It’s been like this ever since he enrolled in U.A. Since he was little. It was what made him happy. I’m his mother, and I’m supposed to set aside my own feelings for my child.” Inko nudged the cookies toward Shiki again. “But you, that burden should never have been on you. Especially not as a child. I’m sorry, Shiki, I’m so sorry.”

“So he’s… always been like this, is what you’re saying, yeah? It wasn’t—it’s not just me he doesn’t want—”

“No. Not you. Definitely not you, Shiki,” Inko insisted. “It’s who he is. Who he’s always been. …Who he’ll always be, I think. Even when he was 3 or 4 years old, so small he fit in my lap… He’s… so incredibly kind, and so incredibly driven, and it’s a combination that breaks a mother’s heart. Because it meant he was always sacrificing himself for others in danger. Doing what All Might would do. But All Might doesn’t have a family; he doesn’t have children. I wonder, sometimes, who All Might left behind, to become who he was. If that’s who we are.”

Shiki put his cookie down. His hands curled in, and he looked at them, ridged fingertips, ridged palms, obligated to use them heroically or not at all. Marks he never asked for.

“But why did he have to be All Might? Why him? Why us? Ice Razer and Creati have a daughter. They dote on her. They love her so much it’s embarrassing. I’ve met her, once, at a reunion thing that Mom and Dad had. And I was angry at her. How much she smiled. How you can just see how proud Ice Razer is, in his eyes, every time he looks at her. Ice Razer was on track to be the #1 hero, ahead of Dad, and he’s said publicly that he no longer cares about his ranking if it means being there for his family, because his dad never was. Dad didn’t… Dad never… He was putting in 120 hour weeks, at the time Ice Razer’s daughter was born, when I was sitting home waiting up for him, because old news headlines estimated that All Might put in 119 hour weeks in his prime, and Dad had to be that. Ice Razer visits his mother! When was the last time Dad came to see you, Grandma?”

Inko Midoriya responded with only a sad smile. “It’s been a while.”

“Ground Zero and Red Riot. Their adopted son, I’ve met him too. You wouldn’t think Ground Zero of all people would be any kind of good father but… he is… apparently… And that’s… fuck, you know what? That’s all I want to be. A good dad. That’s all! I want to teach math, and I want to fall in love with a girl, and marry her, and I want to be there. Just be there. For my kid. I want to spend every weekend with my family. I want to be around for every dinner. I want to help with homework. And I want no one – no villains and no heroes – to ever know my name. Is that too much, Grandma? Is it selfish of me to want that… and to want Mom and Dad to still love me too?”

Shiki’s voice cracked. He hadn’t meant for it to. He hadn’t meant for his composure to slip, or for those final words to come out. He hadn’t meant to open up that hollow ache in his chest, where that fear sat deep and rotten.

His next words were wet. “Is it too selfish of me to just want them to be proud of me?”

“Oh, oh Shiki…” Inko shoved her chair back. Hands extended, she rounded the table, and she wrapped her arms around Shiki. Kind hands, kind like Shiki was not used to. His vision blurred, and he pulled a hand up to wrap around Inko’s arm, and he leaned into her.

“I told him, Grandma…” he muttered, voice still wet. “…I told Dad that I got accepted to Matsuyama’s study. I told him I already went through with it.”

“What?”

Shiki shook his head. “I know it was wrong. I just… I hoped. I don’t know. I just wanted him, maybe, for once… I don’t know…”

“What did he say?”

Shiki shrugged, his movement muted under Inko’s hug. “I don’t know. I hung up. I just hung up.”

…

The beach air was cold, and it was briny. Wind curled off the lapping waves, spritzing All Might’s face with a spray of ocean water that was not wholly unpleasant. It reminded him of a time long-since passed.

The sound of footsteps met his ears. He did not turn, not immediately. All Might breathed in the ocean air a little longer.

“How… how have you been?” The voice – the man beside him – asked.

“Oh, you know. Same old same old. I’ve got this pesky ache in my knee that’s catching up to me. Recovery Girl recommends I start doing some swimming exercises. I’ve been considering it. It might suit these old bones.”

“Oh! I know a few gyms nearby with pool facilities. I-I can get you into them, you know, for free. I’m sure I could—”

All Might held a hand up. “What, do you think I don’t still have connections of my own, Young Midoriya?”

“S-sorry.”

All Might turned properly now, catching sight of Izuku Midoriya, a man so accomplished in the public eye looking familiarly helpless at his side. This beach held memories. Izuku was hardly recognizable from the first day All Might had brought him here for training, and in other ways, he looked exactly the same.

“You called me here to talk about Shikinori, right?” All Might continued. He stared back out at the sea, dark and getting darker. The sun has set 10 minutes prior. “You said he lost his quirk.”

Izuku remained quiet.

“He… had it taken away. He chose to do it, he said.”

“Why?”

Again, silence settled between them. All Might looked back, scanning Izuku’s face, taking in a look mangled with confusion and concern, unsettled and helpless. Not the beaming face on television. Not the endless smile to instill fear in the hearts of villains.

“…I think it was because of me,” Izuku finally answered.

Waves, lapping to shore. All Might found himself watching them again. “A quirkless life is not so bad. These past 30 years have been peaceful for me.”

Static settled in the air around them. Rolling ocean. Gentle wind.

All Might let out a small sigh. “What advice are you looking for, from me, Young Midoriya?”

“I… need to know if this is okay with you. If my plan is okay with you,” Izuku answered.

“As your concerned mentor, I’ve found I don’t like most of your plans,” All Might answered. “What is your plan?”

“Shikinori lost his quirk because of me… I wasn’t there for him. I wasn’t… I wasn’t a good father to him, I think. I was waiting for him to come to me but. I messed up. I need to go to him now. I can think of only one way I have to make it up to him.” Izuku looked up. Conflict pulled at his pained expression, and his fist curled. “Maybe, if I give him One for All, I can fix this.”

Another spritz of ocean spray hit the shore. All Might could feel the salt crystalizing on his face.

“I was right. I don’t like your plan.” All Might turned, and took a step toward Izuku, and laid a hand on his shoulder. “No. That’s my answer. No, I do not approve.”

Izuku seemed to buckle, just a little. He curled one hand in and rested it on All Might’s, still on his shoulder. The shadows of nightfall hid his eyes, but not his mouth, pained and strained at the corners. “Then what can I do to fix this?”

“Why do you think that giving Shikinori One for All would fix this in the first place? Do you really believe that his quirk is the root of the problem? Do you?”

Izuku’s hand trailed down. He shook his head, slowly. The words that came out were pained. “Ochaco and I… are back together again. We’re making this work. We’re… we’re putting the pieces of our family back together. We just need Shikinori. I just want him back with us…”

“…I told you this 20 years ago, Young Midoriya, and I’ll tell you it again. And it will hurt worse now to hear it, because you didn’t follow my advice the first time--”

“I thought I could do both.”

“—You cannot be the Symbol of Peace and have a family. There aren’t enough hours in a lifetime. …I left people behind—”

“I know.”

“—people I cared about. People who cared about me. I hurt them, and I knew I hurt them—”

“I know.”

“And that was my choice. I made that decision. Because protecting the peace of the whole world… that was more important to me than the people I hurt. I carry the burden of that decision every day. …I told you, 20 years ago, that you had to make that decision too.”

“I know, I just thought maybe, with both Ochaco and me—”

“And you did. You did make that decision. You’re the Symbol of Peace, and I’m proud of you for that, …and you’ll have to carry that same burden, too, of that decision you made.”

Izuku’s hand was curled around All Might’s sleeve now. He was smaller now than the man who first arrived at the beach, and so, so much smaller than the Symbol of Peace lauded in headlines across the nation. His shoulders trembled. Tears dripped down the curvature of his nose, lost to the briny sand below.

All Might continued. “This is one piece of advice I can give you… Stop saddling Shiki with that same burden… Don’t give him that weight to bear. Don’t trap him in the world of heroes. Let him go.”

Izuku pulled in a shuddering breath, and he steadied his shoulders.

“…I failed him, didn’t I, All Might…?”

Another lap of waves at the shore, forging eternally onward. There was an ache in All Might’s knees, a rattle to his old bones, a pain that never ceased throbbing in his side. He wondered how long ago it had been, exactly, since he first made this decision himself. How many pulls of the tide since he last saw his mother. How many moons since the earth had reclaimed her. How many breaths of wind had passed since the very last time she thought of him.

He wondered, not for the first time, if it had been selfish of him to trade her, and everyone else away for the protection of all the people he’d never known or loved.

All Might reached down, and he pulled Izuku into a hug. Come daylight, Izuku would have to smile again, on every television and every billboard and every broadcast and every rescue. For now, All Might figured, it was fine to let him cry.

“…Yes. I’m sorry. I’m to blame for this too. I pulled you down this path. But… yes. You failed him.”

All Might ran a hand over Izuku’s hair as his cries grew louder. All Might wondered if Izuku had ever held Shiki like this. He wouldn’t know. All Might wasn’t a father. All Might had no son. Whether that was selfish or selfless, he still did not know.

The wind picked up to a howl, and it swept into shore, and it drowned Izuku’s cries beneath it.

By tomorrow, Izuku would be smiling on the news.

By tomorrow, Shiki would be on a train to an interview far north in Akita.

By tomorrow, Inko would be alone again.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #my hero academia #mha #bnha fanfiction #long post #so ive been writing this fic since OCTOBER #its transcended all emotional relation to me and now simply IS #(i remember years ago the Read More function broke on mobile and i hope thats NOT the case now)#if so: my sincere apologies

764 notes · View notes

royallyprincesslilly · 5 years ago

Text

Title: Arranged {4}

Yahya Abdul Mateen II x OFC Nyorie Kane

Warning: Mild Cursing. Plot

Words: 2.7k

Summary: Yahya is thirty-three, and his friends and family all seem to believe that it is long overdue for him to have a wife. He’s been set up more times than he can count and with his busy schedule and rising Hollywood star, it is becoming even more difficult to meet people, well people who aren’t looking for a come up. In the beginning, he said he didn’t want anything serious; his motto was “I’m was here for a good time not a long time.” Then it became he didn’t want anything that would distract him from where he wanted to go and what he wanted to accomplish. Now that his fame is rising and he’s approaching a sweet spot in his career he decides what the hell the time might be right.

In comes “A Match”, an exclusive matchmaking company run by his best friend Ramel’s wife Tamika. He gives Tamika and Ramel free rein and all his trust to find him, someone, he’d mesh well with. Instead of going through her clientele Tamika has just the right woman in mind, her best friend, Nyorie. Things are done a little unorthodox at “A Match” though. This unconventional route is credited for a near-perfect success rate.

Note: I’ve only tagged those who have expressed to be on a forever tag list.

***None of the images are my own***

**Loosely Proofread/Edited**

**Interactive**

Need To Catch Up?| Chapter one | Chapter Two | Chapter Three

✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*✧*.。:。✧*.:。✧*

-Chapter Four-

Three days later he was staring at a stack of papers that was the contract agreement. Included in the agreement was also the usual fee for services. Tameka was making bank especially if this was the standard fee for every client. Among the papers was an extensive explanation of what she did, what she didn’t do, how she did what she did and what was expected. There was a code of conduct as well as termination policies. Inside the welcome packet there he found all the information about the different stages and the steps in each stage. This was very detailed and when he assessed it all, it wasn’t a completely illogical way to approach dating.

Yes, it was absolutely nuts to agree to marry someone without seeing them, but the saying love is blind was coined for a reason. No, it probably was never meant to be taken so literal, but the truth was the same. Love was blind, love should be found and established with the purest cornerstones. His only hang-up was if this was something that was logical for him and who he was now. He wasn’t some local baker, or a teacher or even a city planner anymore. He was an actor. Now most places he went, he was recognized, approached and watched.

Yeah he could go incognito eighty percent of the time and he was glad for it but he’d come to accept the luxuries of life before were not his luxuries now. He’d traded privacy for paparazzi, and traded clipboards for scripts. He still hadn’t gotten over the differences in his life from a year ago to today.

The more he flipped through the papers and read them over carefully he thought more and more about what the road would look like moving forward with this. He thought about the kind of connection he would want with a woman and the likelihood of finding it like this. He went up and down and around it for what felt like hours. He talked himself into it ten times and out of it ten times. He’d even written a pros and cons list and had thrown it out and done it again too many times. By the time he’d come up with a decision he was fed up with thinking about it. He knew it was the fear of the unknown at this point. The only thing that was in his head at this point was doing the damn thing. So that’s what he told himself as he tapped out a text to Tameka.

MSG: Let’s do it Meeka. Let’s do the damn thing!

He shook his head and tried to shake off how ridiculous he felt. He knew he was ready for it, but he just had to get out of his head with it and allow whatever was meant for him to freely come.

MSG Tameka: All right then. Fill out the paperwork, bring it back, fax it, courier whatever you choose. Once that’s processed we’ll start your screenings. Be mindful we’re going to be digging deep into your personality. Truthful answers are the only answers acceptable, especially if you want success.

MSG: Got it. Thank you Meeka.

MSG Tameka: You’re like my brother Ya. Anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.

He’d known Tameka for over ten years. They were similar. In the beginning stages of Ramel’s relationship, he took it upon himself to get to know her to be sure she was right for his best friend. It didn’t take him long to be convinced she would be a good fit for Ramel. Since then they’d gotten closer and she really had turned into someone he considered a sister.

He sat there in his living room filling out the first page of information.

“Name; Yahya Abdul Mateen II. Nicknames; Ya, Hya. Date of Birth; July 15, 1986. Gender; grade A man baby. Family; mother and one brother, four sisters. Ethnicity and Race; Black and Proud. Height; six-three. Religion; Muslim. Gender you are seeking; female. Marital Status; Single. Income.”

It was there he first paused as he tried to think of a response. Was he supposed to put his current net worth, what he had in the bank, what he was averaging per movie? He was probably thinking about too deeply, but he didn’t know what to put, so he put something basic and carried on.

“Comfortable.” As he got to the second page it got a little more personal. There was a question asking about his family history then another inquiring about his blood type. After that, it went into physical illnesses or mental illnesses. When he saw the big leap from there to asking about communicable diseases he blinked because it wasn’t even page six and already things were getting real.

He spent the next forty minutes or so answering the second, third and fourth pages that asked everything from STDs to medications currently taking. It was pretty detailed which he understood. These were important questions to know before matching someone. He zoomed through the questions about the reason for his decision for matching, and what his expectations were. He’d set the bar pretty low. He wasn’t sure what to expect so he decided to expect nothing spectacular. You can’t be disappointed if you never really set your hopes up, right?

By page six the real hard-hitting questions began. “What are you looking for in an ideal match?” He thought it would be a difficult question, thought he would have no idea what to write but that wasn’t the case. He found himself writing away.

“A woman who is down to earth, funny, honest and smart. A woman who knows what she wants from life and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. a woman who is caring, understanding, passionate, supportive, ambitious. Someone who is silly and has a silly sense of humor and doesn’t take themselves seriously. Confidence is major for me, someone who loves music as much as I do, has a great attitude, positive, classy but definitely kinda hood.”

He reread it and nodded his approval and continued.

“What’s your type?” A wide smile spread across his face because he knew his type. He’d imagined her several times over the months. “Curvy and thick in all the right places, meat on the bones, beautiful lips, expressive eyes, nice smile, shorter than me, fashionable, black and proud in everything that means.”

Thinking about his ideal woman and had him thinking what if Tameka actually pulled it off and found someone that was just right. What if in a few weeks his ass found a wife and not just another ex. That tripped him up and had him stepping away from the paperwork for a few minutes to collect himself and his thoughts with a glass of Henny. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ready, or he was reluctant for change, it was the reality of a possibility.

When he returned to the papers he earnestly answered the remainder of the questions that ranged from a full six pages about him and his dreams, wants, desires and another six pages about his ideal mate and what he would want her dreams, wants and desires to be. When he was finally finished it was almost three in the morning and he was exhausted. He’d felt like he’d done a mental marathon. There were questions in this packet he hadn’t thought about in years and at all. he took that as a good sign. The more in-depth the questions the better the outcome, right?

~~~~~~~~~

A day later he was sitting in an office with a couple Tameka introduced as Dr. Rachel Abramson and Dr. Martin Abramson. They were in charge of mental and emotional screening and preparedness. His first impression was that he would sit in a comfy chair and discuss his thoughts and feelings about beginning the process. For the first hour that is exactly what happened. They had him begin and assured him now was the time to get all his questions out. So, since they wanted him to ask questions he did.

“Are the two of you really that good to have so many success stories? There has to be one story of complete failure.”

The two of them looked at each other and then back to him before they busted out laughing. After a few moments, they finished and Martin spoke first.

“Tameka said you’d be a little apprehensive about the process.”

“She sure wasn’t lying,” Rachel added.

“Ha-ha-ha, very funny. You can’t blame me, can you? This is pretty peculiar.”

“Okay here’s the thing. On a scale of normal and insane, this is insane when you think of it from a societal norm perspective. We’ve all been taught and conditioned that we have to do things one way in order to find the love and happiness we want and deserve. So we go our entire lives on this hamster wheel trying it over and over and over no matter how many times we fail. No matter how many times we don’t find that love or happiness we want but heartache or loneliness. At what point do you change your perspective? At what point do you start to wonder what are societal norms doing for me? Here we’re changing up the norms. There is no reason why a different approach cannot work,” Rachel finished.

“We’re doing a different approach for the same goal. The only difference is our approach actually works and it continues to work. We’re that good at what we do because of the process and the screenings, these chats. We now know you want to be a believer, but you have to be shown the way. That will go into your profile and into the decision for those we cross with you for a match,” Martin explained.

Taking a few moments for their words to register he nodded then shrugged. “All right. I’m here. Let’s do it.”

That was when they began to dig deeper pulling him to talk about his entire life story, relieve every decision he’d ever made, every experience. He thought about things he hadn’t thought about in years. They had a way of bringing deeper meaning to his experiences, his struggles. They gave him worst-case scenarios and stressful situations, questioned his decisions in relationships and life. They dissected everything and the whole time they wrote note after note and exchanged look after look. After another two hours, he realized just how deep this process got. He felt like he’d just gone through the most extensive counseling session he’d ever had.

“How do you feel?” Tameka studied him with a slight “yikes” face.

“Damn that was intense.”

“Yeah, Rachel and Martin really get in there and tear you apart and put you under a microscope then put you back together. Usually, everyone who sees them says they feel refreshed leaving.”

“Refreshed? Meeka I feel like I just got a soul cavity search.” She laughed and shook her head.

“Boy, you so stupid. Seriously, it’s all right. It’s like this for everyone,” she assured.

“Are all screenings like this?”

“I wouldn’t say that. This one usually puts everyone through a wringer, you’re facing a lot of things, it makes you doubt yourself; it’s supposed to. It’s part of the process. The worst is behind you. You have three more screenings and then we’ll move on to the fun stuff.”

“What exactly is the fun stuff?”

Tameka smiled widely and zipped her lips. He didn’t have a good feeling about whatever it was she was talking about.

Sure enough, four days later he’d felt like he’d actually gone through the wringer. He’d completed the following screenings that focused on his potential mate love languages and expectations, and sexual expectations and intelligence. It was definitely an intricate process. From what he could tell those he’d dealt with really knew what they were doing.

After a quick trip to New York for work and a trip with his brother and sister to Vegas for some downtime, gambling and silliness he felt refreshed.

Today he dribbled the ball around the court with Ramel and crew he tried to keep his mind off of things. Tameka said they would go through his responses and screenings and put together a complete assessment that they would then use to go through their database of potential women he would mesh well with. He knew the processes couldn’t be rushed but he was getting a little anxious after three days and no notification on the status.

He was a little off his game and Rashawn was taking advantage of that. He stole the ball and dropped a perfect fadeaway bucket. He stood there shaking his head.

“What the hell has got your mind so outta the game you let Rashawn of all people steal your ball?”

They laughed at him together and he had to admit he deserved it. He walked to the sideline and dropped onto one of the bleachers. His boys sat around him taking sips of their water.

“Is this about this matchmaking?”

Rashawn and Tyrell both sounded off. “Hold up, matchmaking? Are you getting set up?”

Dropping his head back he rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want them all to know in case it didn’t work out and he was in fact unmatchable.

“Yeah, I was trying something different, thought why not.”

“Okay. We didn’t even know you wanted someone. Why you ain’t say something?”

He shrugged and rolled his head around. “No reason.”

“So that’s why your jump shot is shit and your ball handling is even worse,” Tyrell chided. He laughed at the insult to injury, he was already feeling like crap.

“Man kick me while I’m down. Great.”

“Leave him alone. Tameka’s process is tough. In the early days when she was giving me the run down, she blew my mind with how detailed everything is,” Ramel defended.

“Right. Damn, I had no idea. After four days I felt like she’d unlocked a whole nother level to my personality I didn’t even know I had.” They all laughed but he wasn’t joking. He was woke before but now he was third eye woke.

“So you’re waiting for results now?”

“I’m waiting for them to finish analyzing my assessments. I think they’re screening me with potentials. I don’t even know.”

“You ready to meet someone? I mean you could have yourself a girl in a month’s time,” Rashawn voiced.

“He could have himself more than a girl in three months’ time,” Ramel corrected.

“Yeah, I’m ready. The interesting thing is throughout the whole process of them analyzing me and asking me every question ever invented it had me really seeing how empty my life has been and how stuck I was. It opened my eyes to show me what I had to offer and that I was ready to offer it.”

They all nodded fulling understanding what he meant. He was glad he wasn’t friends with men who ran from commitments and dogged out their women. He was glad he was surrounded by levelheaded mature men who sometimes acted like complete idiots behind their wives’ backs.

“Well, I hope Tameka can work some miracle because it will have to be one hell of a woman who keeps your attention cause God knows you got that ADD,” Tyrell piped up.

Again, they all laughed together, at his expense.

A few more days passed with him working even more. He went on more and more auditions and his name was being kicked around quite a lot. According to his agent and manager, his name was brought up a lot for different projects. The ones that had him super excited was the fourth installment to The Matrix and a Candyman remake. He grew up on Candyman and damn near tripped down the steps when he’d read the email about it.

The days passed quickly, and he traveled between NY, Miami and LA all for auditions, meetings, interviews, and photoshoots. he was busy but in the back of his mind, he wondered where he was in the process with A Match. The longer he went without hearing something, the more he worried that he was unmatchable.

As he was pulling into LAX from his recent trip to London Tameka’s message caught him off guard.

MSG Tameka: Great news. When can you come in?

His nerves went into high gear as one thing repeated in his head.

“So it begins.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

@chrisgalore @thatrandomhetaliachick @missdeerstalker15 @queenbetter @jesseswartzwelder @briellableu @titty-teetee @zaddysqueen7 @melaninhawtie @simplyyamberr @airis-paris14 @ashanti-notthesinger @afraiddreamingandloving @ajspencer1892 @wakanda-inspired @chillavesss @drsunshine97 @cleothegoldfish @builtalongthewayside @theunsweetenedtruth @geeksareunique @aykanna @hanasamara @profilia @ollieveracity @autumn242 @missyperle @sup3rn0va13 @chaneajoyyy @forbeautyandlife @kreolemami @designerwriterchic @laketaj24 @anonymousmadame2911 @trillistb @@purplehairgawdess @write-fromthe-start @essaysbyciara @wakandalivesforever @yourwonderbelle @minton131 @wellthirsted @alyxkbrl @caramara3 @thadelightfulone

#arranged fic #yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x reader #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x you #Yahya Abdul Mateen ii x black reader #black fanfiction #slow burn fanfic

46 notes · View notes

creamytinydays · 5 years ago

Text

One Night - Part Two

This is part two to my drabble “One Night,” which I wrote approximately forever ago.

@butrfac14, you are amazing. Thank you for betaing on short notice! Thanks to @dandeliononfire for the prompt, and to @lovely-tothe-bone for asking for more :)

[The Hunger Games belongs to Suzanne Collins. Photo by Matthijs Smit on Unsplash].

The scent of freshly ground coffee lures Katniss downstairs the next morning. She stumbles by the campers chatting in the kitchen and heads straight for the coffee maker. A summer breeze floats in through the open glass doors, along with the sounds of laughter.

She can’t help but scan the faces of the campers for the man from last night. The fact that she’s not even sure of the color of his hair isn’t lost on her.

Katniss pours herself a large cup of coffee and is stirring in sugar when she spots a man leaning against a wall in the living room. He looks to be about the right height, and she doesn’t realize that she’s staring until he turns to look, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes as he smiles.

“You missed morning meditation again, Katniss!” chirps a voice behind her.

Katniss groans internally. One of the few people she has met is Delly, who looks like the kind of person that hops out of bed at six in the morning and likes it that way. Katniss slowly takes a sip of coffee. She doesn’t tell Delly that you can’t miss something you would never attend in a million years.

“You should join us sometime!” Delly smiles brightly, seemingly undeterred by Katniss’ silence. “Or, how about the singer-songwriter class today? I’m leading it.” Delly glances at her clipboard. “Maybe you’re already signed up?”

“We were supposed to sign up?”

Delly frowns, flipping through the papers. “Looks like most of the classes for today are filled. Didn’t you hear the morning announcements?”

She didn’t know they were supposed to sign up in advance, and now she’ll probably be stuck with some class she isn’t even interested in.

“I wasn’t up,” she mumbles. Despite herself, she peers at the clipboard.

Delly gives her a kind smile. “It’s okay, there’s still a few spots in my class. C’mon, it’s about to start.”

Katniss avoids glancing at the dark-haired man in the living room and follows Delly outside to the wide wooden deck filled with campers. Delly gathers her group and marches them to a meadow in the woods. When they arrive, everyone settles into a circle on the grass.

“I see some new faces, so let’s start with introductions.” Delly smiles as she looks around the circle. “Let’s play Rose and Thorn. Tell me your highlight, or ‘rose’ so far at camp, and then a ‘thorn’, or something that didn’t go so well.” She sits back and nods at the girl next to her.

The introductions take some time, as Delly’s class seems to be popular among the campers. Katniss catches the names of a few of them, such as a shy woman named Annie whose bangs keep falling in her face, and a man named Finnick who launches into a story about skinny dipping in the camp lake.

“Okay!” says Delly, smiling at Finnick, although her pen is tapping furiously against her clipboard. “How about our next camper? Peeta?” She nods at a blond man sitting next to Finnick. Katniss notices the guitar slung behind his back, and the way the sunlight catches his blue eyes as he smiles at the group.

“Sure,” he says. “I guess my ‘thorn’ was getting lost on the way to camp.” A sympathetic groan rises from the campers. “But my ‘rose’ was playing guitar last night.”

Finnick elbows him, grinning. “That’s where you were last night! Who were you with? Marvel?”

“Actually…” Peeta trails off. “This other camper, you don’t know her. But she has this incredible voice.” He addresses the whole circle, and Katniss freezes. His gaze sweeps around the group, and for a moment she’s sure he’s going to recognize her, but he barely glances at her.

Finnick narrows his sea-green eyes. “And who is this mystery camper?”

Katniss feels too hot as the sun beats down on the back of her neck. Peeta opens his mouth to respond and Katniss wishes she could vanish like the morning mist.

“Let’s move on, guys,” Delly breaks in. “Thanks for sharing, Peeta.”

Katniss exhales, and the anxiety is replaced with anger. Last night was private, she thinks furiously. Who is he to share that with the entire group?

She realizes she’s glaring at Peeta, and she forces her attention back to Delly, determined not to let him get in the way of the morning session.

But as Delly leads the group in a few sing-alongs, Katniss keeps noticing things, like the way Peeta bites his pencil or how his gaze never lands on her for more than a second.

When Delly hands out a stack of papers, Katniss notices hers is marked with a number in red at the top.

“Alright everyone, we’re going to break up into writing teams to collaborate on an original song!” Delly actually claps her hands together, her ponytail bouncing. “If you come up with something good, maybe you could even use it for the talent show on Sunday.”

Katniss can’t remember anything about a talent show, but apparently she’s the only one because two girls next to her start whispering intently.

“Find the person with the same number as your paper, and they’ll be your song partner. Happy writing!”

Katniss peers at her number as everyone gathers their notebooks and pens. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Peeta walk towards her, and she ducks her head but his feet stop right in front of her.

“Hey.” He peers at her paper. “I think we’re partners.” She tries to stifle a sigh, and is met with his confused expression.

“Hi.” She gets to her feet. He smiles politely, and they head to the outskirts of the meadow. When Peeta stops a few feet past the tree line, Katniss keeps going. If she’s going to be stuck with him, she can at least waste some of their time by walking.

“C’mon,” she says gruffly. “A bit further.” She doesn’t hear him following her, and she turns around to see him looking back at the meadow.

“I mean, this way we’re nearby when the class regroups,” he says.

She kicks at a root sticking in the path.

“I don’t want anyone to steal our ideas,” she mumbles.

“I’d rather that than get eaten by a bear,” he responds, throwing her off guard. She raises an eyebrow.

“There aren’t any bears in these woods.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I looked it up before I arrived.” Her sister made her promise not to wander off on hikes in order to avoid the other campers. She’d made the concession of checking for predators first. “And if there was, I’d climb a tree.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to say to that. She turns around and marches into the forest, and after a moment she hears his footsteps behind her.

They hike downhill, the summer sun filtering through the trees and dappling the leaves on the forest floor. Katniss spots deer tracks, and wonders if the lake mentioned in the camp brochure is somewhere nearby. After ten minutes she knows they’ve walked much farther than they should, but Peeta doesn’t comment. Birds flit from branch to branch, and Katniss lets the silence soak in before sitting down on a log a little way from the trail.

Peeta settles on a rock across from her, absentmindedly strumming his guitar. She scans the instructions from Delly, but she can’t concentrate.

“So when you’re not researching bears, what do you do for fun, Katniss?”

She jerks her head up. “Besides singing?” She shrugs. “I do archery at the community college.”

“You shoot? Why didn’t you bring your bow with us?” His hands dance soundlessly over the guitar frets. “Here I was worrying about protecting you from the bears, but all the while you could be the one protecting us!” He shakes his head.

“There’s no bears out here, seriously -” she starts, but a smile steals onto her face at his mock exasperation. She stares down at her paper.

“An hour to write a song doesn’t seem like much,” Katniss grumbles.

“Finnick says he’s just going to use one he already wrote,” Peeta says. He looks up hopefully at her. “Do you have any originals?”

“No.” She folds the paper in her hands.

He clears his throat, strumming a chord. “Katniss isn’t afraid of bears; she’ll climb a tree to get away…” he sings. He looks at her expectantly. “Now think of something that rhymes.”

“This is ridiculous,” she mutters. He’s just looking at her, so she sighs and tries to think of something.

“If I lose Peeta in these woods, it’ll really ruin his day,” she sings.

The smile slips off his face.

“What?” She scowls. “Your line wasn’t great either.”

“You’re the girl,” he says, a blush blooming at the collar of his t-shirt. “You sang with me last night!”

She picks up a twig, twirling it in her fingers.

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” His blush is creeping up his neck to his jaw.

“When was I supposed to say something? When you were announcing it to the entire world?” She glares at him. “What was I supposed to say? Oh hi, I’m the girl with the incredible voice?”

“I don’t think I said ‘incredible,” he counters.

She raises an eyebrow. “I was there, remember?”

“Is that why you’ve been mad at me this whole time?” He leans forward. “Because of my ‘rose’ story?”

She crosses her arms. She doesn’t know why she feels so possessive over that space of time where it was only melody and stars and the cool of the night.

“Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t think; I didn’t even know if I was going to see you again. I just…” He looks up at the trees above them, and a breeze rustles through the branches.

“What?” She says despite herself, when the silence stretches thin. He takes a deep breath and looks right at her, and she wants to look away but she doesn’t.

“I just told the truth. That’s how I feel. Playing guitar while you sang was the best part of camp so far.” He smiles wryly. “Sorry.”

He does look sorry. She pulls a loose thread from her shirt.

“Ok,” she manages. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe we should start over.” He leans back against a redwood tree, the color of the bark contrasting with the blue of his shirt. “How do you like camp so far?”

“It’s great,” she says, proud that she doesn’t sound as unenthusiastic as she feels.

“Really?” he says. “I was a little apprehensive at first. Still am, I guess.”

She can’t figure that out. He’s gorgeous and plays guitar like a god. Why would he be apprehensive?

“You don’t seem like it,” she says.

He shrugs and looks down.

“It’s just – this whole talent show idea, with everyone having to perform. Doesn’t it seem like a bit much?” He pushes a hand through his hair.

“It’s music camp.” She shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ll go up on stage and have everyone crying with your incredible vocals.”

“What about you? You’re amazing at guitar.” She’s pretty sure she has the onstage presence of a banana slug, while he looks like the lead singer of a boy band.

He laughs dryly. “Thanks, I guess. But do you want to know a secret?” He shoves his guitar behind him so it peeks over his shoulder, and he leans forward, carefully placing his forearms on his knees before looking up at her. “I’ve never played for anyone before.”

“What?” She crosses her arms. “You’re joking.”

“Nope.”

“What about your music teacher?”

“What music teacher? I learned how to play from YouTube.” She stares at him.

“And your roommates?” she asks.

“I live by myself. Seriously,” he says, “the only person that’s heard me play is right here.”

His full attention is on her, his eyes a bright blue in the filtered forest light. She’s been singing since she was a child, and has sung in so many music assemblies and concerts over the years that she can’t remember a time when no one had heard her before.

She thinks it’s brave, showing up to camp, to play guitar with a group of strangers. But she can’t seem to say it, not when the morning light is caught in his hair like strands of gold. She curls her fingers into the moss on the log next to her.

“Don’t worry about the talent show,” she says gruffly. “You’ll be fine.”

Peeta’s already looked down, his attention on the instructions.

“Should we get started, then?” he asks.

As the morning melts away, Peeta plays guitar softly, coaxing her into writing another verse. Katniss watches the light change as the sun ascends, and at noon she leads Peeta back to the meadow.

#fanfiction #THG #Peeta Mellark #Katniss #everlark #camp au #Summer #music #musician!Peeta #Musician!Katniss #guitar #maybe bears #maybe no bears #you decide

134 notes · View notes

haddonfieldproject · 4 years ago

Text

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.9 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1st 5:13 AM

Warren County, Illinois

While that call did not succeed in waking up Kyndra and Zoey, the aforementioned Diego was woken up, however, by his co-worker Quinn, as he lay napping on a tattered sofa in the SuperFuel Deluxe's break room.

“Diego!”

Diego grunted.

“Diego, get up,” Quinn slapped him with a blue rag.

Diego sat up and rubbed his eye.

“Customers.” Quinn said.

Diego blinked awake. The TV was on. A man with fake looking blonde hair stood in front of a map coated with splotches of reds, oranges, and yellows.

“ Lightning strikes have been reported just about everywhere as this severe cell moves through Warren and Carpenter counties. Listen up if you are in the areas of Russelville, Haddonfield, Langdon, Tuckerville...you are under a Severe Thunderstorm Warning and Tornado Watch ‪until 7:45 am‬. Check out this picture someone posted on social media, that's softball sized hail folks...this reported by Zeke, a custodian working late ‪night tonight‬ at Smith's Grove High School, so be careful out there folks.”

Thunder struck and the lights in the shop momentarily dimmed. Customers, Diego thought, in this storm?

Diego stood up and stretched and then grabbed his Mountain Dew he had swiped from the coolers a few hours ago. Stepping into the shop, he sure enough saw some guy was talking to Quinn, standing next to an old-ass station wagon. The kind that had the wood panels on the side. The bottom was eaten away with rust. Diego was surprised the thing was even running at all, and one of the first things he noticed were the California plates. The lifeless remains of a tire lay snaked around a severely dented rim on the front passenger side. Must have hit a curb without even braking, he thought.

Quinn pulled a clipboard off the dark blue tool bench next to him and said, “We actually just had one of these die on us last week and it's back there in the yard. We can replace the tire and the rim and fix up those tie rods and struts in a jiff. You got really got lucky, because otherwise you'd be waiting at least two days for parts.”

The man's eyes grew wide, “Are you serious?! That's a miracle if I ever heard one.”

“I'll say,” Diego chimed in, “What year is this?”

“1989 Ford Country Squire” Jack Tate said proudly.

“Wow,” Diego laughed. “Quinn's right, we literally just got one of these in, the drive train fell apart in our hands, literally fell apart. But it was much more beat up than this.”

“You don't say!?” Jack put his hands on his hips.

“I couldn't help but recognize the California plates,” Diego motioned to the back of the car, dropping to one knee to examine the wheel well.

“Yep,” Jack said, rubbing his chin, “We're from a small town in Northern California, between San Jose and Sacramento. It's called Summer Glen.”

“Bet you don't get much snow there,” Diego said from under the car.

“Nope..but I bet you guys do.”

Diego appeared from under the lopsided tire with a smile, “Buckets,” he replied, “And it wreaks havoc on an undercarriage.”

“I bet it does” Jack replied.

Diego stood up and wiped his hands on his coveralls. “Well, not so much the snow,” he said, “it's the salt they salt the roads with. Eats the bottom of the car all up.”

“So what do you do?” Jack asked.

“Heated car wash,” Diego said, reaching out his hand to Quinn for the clipboard.

“I saw signs for those on the way in, all over the place up here,” Jack said, “But I saw signs but then it looked like empty parking lots.”

Quinn smiled and handed Diego the clipboard, “With steam coming up?”

“I didn't see any steam,” Jack replied.

“They're probably turned off right now.” Diego remarked, looking over the paper on the clipboard.

Quinn whistled, “Whew don't I know it. It's been hotter than a hippo with a hernia.”

“Hmmm,” Jack grunted in agreement, “Climate Change.”

Quinn hissed, “Hogwash! I don't believe that bullshit for a second.”

Jack quickly changed the subject, “Anyways—err--how do car washes help your car in the winter?”

Quinn nodded, “You drive over the jets and they hose off your undercarriage with heated water”

“That's fascinating,” Jack smiled.

“Well,” Diego sighed, “We have the parts already so we'll charge you a $90 restocking fee, that's mostly 'cuz Quinn here has to run out in the rain and slip the rim and tie-rods off the old car.”

“Aww man, that's cold,” Quinn exclaimed.

“Good news is,” Diego continued, “You really didn't tear her up all that much besides that, you knocked some things loose but we can tighten her up. The labor will cost you $400 easy,, being on the weekend now, and then $140 for the tire, $126 for the rim, taxes and disposal and you're still under a grand.”

“That's wonderful,” Jack said, placing his hands back on his hips.

“What brings you out here?” Quinn asked, “Especially in this storm.”

“My wife got a job out here, she ‪starts Monday‬ so we wanted to get out here as quick as we could....drove straight through.” Jack remarked.

“Wow,” Quinn breathed.

“I need those parts Quinn,” Diego remarked, opening the top of the tool bench and pulling out a socket wrench.

“Oh right!” Quinn smiled. He walked over to the far wall and grabbed a yellow rain coat which hung on a peg next to a Calendar, still on the month of October. A model in a bikini presided over the tenth month. “What job did your wife get out here?” He called from across the room.

“She's going to be the new Chief of Medicine at the hospital,” Jack replied, his eyes on Diego as Diego crouched back down toward the car.

“Oh she's gonna replace old man Mixter!” Quinn remarked.

Jack shrugged.

“Hurry Quinn, this guy said he's got places to be,” Diego said from under the car.

“Oh right,” Quinn said and stepped through the side door that led into a small foyer and eventually either out to the front parking lot or back into the lot.

“So your wife's a doctor eh,” Diego's voice came from under the car, “so what do you do?”

“Well I'm a doctor too,” Jack replied.

Diego emerged from the car holding a twisted piece of metal, “Really? What kind?”

“Well I'm a psychiatrist,” Jack said.

Diego slid back under the car, “A shrink huh?” He said, “You opening up an office here or something?”

“Well no,” Jack laughed, “I'm actually going to take some time off and write a book.”

Diego re-emerged with more twisted metal, “Cool,” he said, “What about?”

“Hypnosis,” Jack said matter-of-factly.

Diego cocked his head to one side, “Really? You do that shit?”

“Swear by it,” Jack replied.

There was an awkward moment of silence and then they both laughed.

🎃

Meanwhile, Ophelia Tate had purchased a small and incredibly over-priced pack of baby wipes and was giving herself the best attempt at a bath she could muster inside the surprisingly clean restroom of the SuperFuel Deluxe. After she finished, she sat on top of a toilet and took an opportunity to catch up on social media.

While she sat in the stall reading about “11 Celebrities That You Would Never Assume Were Gay”, her son Damon stepped into the Food Mart, and wiped his perfectly white sneakers on the welcome mat. An angry looking Indian man looked up as the door bells jingled and then went back to fiddling with some electronic device behind the counter. Damon's first thought was, Why does he keep all that bullet proof glass open?

He casually turned to his left, starting down an aisle chock full of every imaginable brand of potato chip or chocolate or fruity candy---browsing but not really browsing, more just wasting time. The aisle came to a dead-end at a wall of coolers full of soda and water and fruit juices. Damon stopped and caught himself staring at a row of YooHoos when he heard what sounded like a snickering to his left.

There was a small hallway to the left of the coolers, veering off next to an ATM machine. He stepped in front of the ATM machine and peered down the hallway, at once spotting the cause of the commotion. Three young boys were standing in the corner next to a door marked: UTILITY, NO TRESSPASSING. One was a freckled redheaded kid with shiny braces dressed as batman, another was a blonde haired blue eyed boy dressed like Darth Vader, and the last was a much younger looking kid with brown hair and brown eyes dressed like some kind of zombie. They were huddled together, their masks all hanging limply around their necks, crowded around a magazine featuring a hot blonde titled RED RABBIT. The cover-girl’s name was apparently Misty Dawn, and according to the cover caption, she was “Back and Ready for More Action”.

The boys caught sight of Damon and looked up startled. The freckled redhead kid's smile disappeared and his eyes grew narrow, “Hey!” He called, “What are you looking at?”

Damon was unfazed. “Looks like a couple of pervs to me,” he said, stepping toward them.

This apparently took them aback because they said nothing in retort.

“Seriously,” Damon said, pointing at the cover, “How old are you guys?”

Blonde Vader who held the magazine in his hand pressed it to his chest as if it were the most valuable thing on the earth and looked up at Damon with his mouth open. Little zombie boy took a step back. But BatFreckle was not amused. “Why don't you go Fuck Off!”

Damon frowned, “That's not very nice language. Is everyone in this town pervs like you?”

“Where are you---” little zombie started in but BatFreckle cut him off.

“Don't you know that Warren County is the home of the Rabbit-in-Red? What hole did you crawl out of freak-show?”

“Rabbit-in-what?” Damon asked and with lightning speed, snatched the magazine from Blonde Vader.

“Hey!” The wannabe Sith Lord exclaimed.

“Rabbit-In-Red Productions is the world's third largest manufacturer of pornographic media dipshit, and the company is based here in Warren County.” BatFreckle spat.

“So it is a county full of pervs,” Damon said, opening the magazine and thumbing through the pages.

“My dad said a local bunch of church folks fought Mr. Martini in court over decency laws so much, the legal fees drove the church out of business.” Blonde Vader said.

“Shi-yeah,” BatFreckle said, “That's why old man Taylor's up in his house on the hill crying like a pussy all the time.”

“Mr. Who?” Damon asked, closing the magaize and handing it back to Blonde Vader.

BatFreckle snatched it instead and flipped to the table of contents, pointing to a ‪small black‬ and white picture of a middle-aged overweight man. “Lou Martini. He's the CEO of Rabbit-in-Red nimrod, he owns half the county and is like, the richest man in Illinois outside of Chicago.”

“Where are you from?” Little zombie found his place to ask.

“My parents and I are moving here from California, we just got in tonight, got a flat tire.” Damon replied.

“California! That's cool!” Blonde Vader exclaimed.

BatFreckle rolled his eyes, “Beat it California!” He said, “We were just checking out Spitz' mom in this month's issue.”

He and Blonde Vader started laughing.

“That's not my mom!” Little zombie, who's name was obviously Spitz, whined.

“Don't lie, you know it's her!” BatFreckle teased.

Blonde Vader turned the page, and the centerfold fell out, revealing the cover-girl Misty Dawn laying on a bed of white fur naked except for a silver belly chain and and black stilettos. A paper fell out as well and fluttered almost magestically to the floor. Damon bent down and picked it up. It was a flier that featured another picture of the model. The headline read:

SEE COVER GIRL

MISTY DAWN

TUE-SUN

OCTOBER AND NOVEMBER

AT THE

RABBIT-IN-RED LOUNGE

HADDONFIELD

“Look Spitz” BatFreckle said in jest, “You can see your mom's show tonight if you want.”

“It's not my mom!” Spitz whined again.

“Why don't you leave him alone?” Damon said.

“Why don't you suck my balls?” BatFreckle snapped.

“Chill out Lonnie!” Blonde Vader slapped BatFreckle's shoulder and then looked at Damon “Lonnie can be a douche sometimes, I'm Richie Marshall, this is Lonnie Elamb, and he's Spitz. Welcome to Haddonfield.”

Lonnie groused and leaned back against the wall, opening up the porn.

“Cool, my name is Damon.”

“How old are you?” Richie asked.

“17, you?”

“I just turned 12, Lonnie is 16 but he's still in 8th grade...he has to go to special classes at the Middle School.” Richie and Spitz cackled.

“I have dyslexia fuck face!” Lonnie said, throwing the RED RABBIT at his friend.

“I'm 8,” Spitz said proudly.

“What are you doing out of the house at this time of night?” Damon asked, picking up the magazine from the floor and handing it back to Richie.

“Lonnie has his drivers license now, and I just snuck out of my house.” Richie said.

“What about you?” Damon asked, turning toward Spitz.

“His mom's a whore so she leaves him alone to go out fucking for quarters!” Lonnie called.

“Stop it Lonnie! She is not!” Spitz cried.

Damon ignored him and Spitz continued, “My mom works late nights at Jamie Lee's Diner, she doesn't get home till morning. My grandma watches me but she fell asleep and I...I snuck out too.”

“We just ate there coming in,” Damon said smiling.

“My mom is Taylor,” Spitz said.

“She was our waitress.” Damon replied.

“His mom's a slut!” Lonnie called.

Spitz started to whine but Damon put an arm around him, “Why do you hang out with this asshole? Is there anything else to do in this place than look at naked chicks?”

“There's an arcade in the driver's lounge, but I don't have any quarters.” Spitz said.

“Come on,” Damon said, “Show me where it is.”

Richie tossed Lonnie the magazine to followed Damon and Spitz. Lonnie caught it, rolling his eyes, he was perfectly happy right there looking at boobs.

🎃

Damon stepped into the shop area of the SuperFuel Deluxe and shook off the rain. There he saw his dad sitting on a folding chair listening, as another man held a lamp under their family station wagon from the Jurassic era. A third man was under the car working. The man holding the lamp was droning on and on about baseball. Damon didn't really care for baseball, or any sports for that matter.

“And then the Sox brought in their reliever, that guy Stroop, and he just completely fell apart. He hit two batters and walked another, and before you knew it the bases were loaded.” Quinn was saying.

Damon walked up to his dad. “Is that so---” Jack replied, but was startled when Damon tapped him on the shoulder.

“What is it son? You're not supposed to be back here.” Jack looked up at Damon.

“There's an arcade inside and I was wondering if you had any change on you?” Damon asked.

Jack leaned to one side and pulled his wallet out, withdrawing a 20 dollar bill. “Can they make change?” He asked.

“There's a change machine,” Damon said flatly, taking the money.

“You can play all of that, what the hell, it's been a long few days,” Jack said smiling.

Damon stuffed the twenty in his front pocket and turned, “Thanks,” he said.

“Tell your mom I'm in here,” Jack called after him.

“Haven't seen her,” Damon said as he walked out, without turning.

Quinn started up again, “So you know that big Dominican for the Cubs, Agu...Agu...something.”

“Aguilar,” Diego called from under the car.

“Yeah, Aguilar,” Quinn corrected himself. “Well he steps up to the plate and first pitch...bam!”

NEXT>>

#halloween #halloween franchise #michael myers #horror #horror writing #haddonfield #horror film #fan fiction #fan writing #spooky

2 notes · View notes

boogiewrites · 5 years ago

Text

A Girl Walks Into A Bar 13

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella Fiore (OFC)

Summary: Modern Declan harp AU. Declan plans a date and hopes it goes well. It goes so well neither of them wants it to end.

Warnings/Tags: Mild. Language. Date Night. Bella softening up and stepping up! Maybe they finally kiss?

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

Thanks to Bella’s stellar work ethic, she was able to concentrate despite the buzzing in the back of her skull. With her still highly suspicious coworkers she managed to avoid questions with glares, but the bravest and admittedly closest to her, CeeCee, wasn’t convinced.

She stands in Bella’s doorway after hours, door open for the 4th day in a row. She’d been playing old Motown all day, they’d even caught her dancing and singing to herself in the studio, chewing on a pen and swinging her hips as she read over papers.

“Alright. Who is he? Or her, what the hell do I know?” CeeCee shrugs.

Bella's eyes shoot up from her clipboard, looking wide at her ballsy business partner. “What?” she asks with no inflection.

“I’m not stupid. I know you. I have eyes. You’re happy about something.” she says with a jutted forward chin, giving Bella tight lips that show her obviousness.

Bella only stares, her eyes under a deep set brow.

“The Motown all day? Singing and dancing to yourself? I even saw you smile at your phone today. You tell me nothing is going on I’m gonna tell you you’re full of shit.” Her bold statement delivered with a back and forth of her head.

“Then save us bother the time and tell me that then.” Bella snaps back quickly.

“UGH.” she throws her head back dramatically. “Fuckin’ Scorpios I swear to GOD!” she groans and turns to leave. Bella smirks as she returns back to her checklist.

----

All Declan had told her was to dress comfortably and for movement. To say she was curious was an understatement. She’d suggested something fun that would help her forget the hard week she’d had. While it had been tough, there was something different, something that kept her mood from crashing despite the workload and meetings. She’d not told him about that part though.

With his advice in mind, she’d dressed comfortably. She struggled to find the balance between form and function, fussing over if she looked “cute” enough. Which was something she hadn’t weighed in many years. But he made her want to consider things like that again. He brought out something in her that made her want to be feminine. After years of leather and denim, of hard brows and severe hair, she’d found herself shifting. This was also something CeeCee noticed. She’d even worn a dress to work more than once in the past week, and on a non-meeting day. Wearing her hair down and loose, softer make up in lighter colors and less black, she felt a part of her opening up that hadn’t since she was young. Her armor of leather not feeling as needed when she had him around, she didn’t feel the need to protect herself so much. She knew she was in good company.

Declan makes it to her house, the roar of a motorcycle surprising her as she fussed over Robbie before having to be out the evening.

“You’re fucking kidding me?” she scoffs out a playful laugh. She watches him pull up on an old bike, something like her dad would’ve ridden when she was small. A surprising shade of turquoise, but what was more surprising was how he looked.

He was no stranger to showing more skin in the warmer months, just like her, but riding a bike requires a bare minimum of coverage to still be responsible. Plus maybe he’d gone to the gym every day this past week, gone up to the woods and started clearing out his stomping grounds of the winter build up. Maybe he’d wanted to look good for her. She was making him consider his appearance just the same as he was her. He hoped he succeeded, as he knew she’d look good to him no matter what.

She wracked her brain for the long since buried information on motorcycles she had from her childhood. Her dad having his and treating it like a member of the family before his wreck. After it he’d dabbled a bit here and there, helping friends work on theirs. But he’d kept being a fan of them, trading road trips for magazines as he got older. She gets washed over with an odd, warm nostalgia. She thinks of the old pictures of her parents, him in his leather jacket and her in her bell bottoms and flowing dresses. She wonders if this was what her mom had felt like when big Sandro had rolled up to take her out all those years ago. A deep pull in her gut that she didn’t want to acknowledge told her yes.

She jumps and shakes out the nerves. “Be cool. Be cool.” She whispers, stretching her arms and neck as he makes his way to the door. “Be cool. You can do this. It’s just a date.” It was a date right? Shit, had he said date? She knew he liked her, no room for wondering there, the almost kiss was still burned into her mind. So it was a date. Or was he going slow? Was he going slow because of her or because he wanted to? Her brow furrows and she scratches her big wavy hair, falling past her collar bones now as she’d opted out of the usual spring cut. The doorbell makes her jump and she rolls her eyes at herself in harsh judgment. She counts to ten slowly and breathes, then goes for the door.

Declan stood with gleaming shoulders in the late afternoon sun. His tank top long and loose, faded over dark jeans and his usual shit-kicking boots and chain. The leather vest was something she’d not seen him in before and to say she was a fan was an understatement. She wonders if there’s more leather where it came from and if he had a collection to rival hers. She doubted it but filed the curiosity to his kinks away for later.

“Hey, Babe.” She greets first and boldly, pulling the door back to welcome him in.

“Hey Bells.” A broad closed mouth smile that makes his eyes nearly disappear comes across his face at the sight of her. A dress cut in at the waist with a little ditzy floral print of white and yellow against a black background reminds him of some cool girl from a 90s sitcom. It brushed at her knees and he saw her same little boots loose around her ankles. With effortless hair and makeup, he wanted to hold her against him and feel that softness. The cotton of her dress under his hands as he leaned in to hug her, the warm berry vanilla scent of her as he kissed her cheek and made her blush as she side-eyes him before moving away.

“Gonna grab my purse. Say hi to Robbie if you want. He missed you.” She tells over her shoulder with a tone that suggested he wasn’t the only one.

“I’ve missed him.” He responds in a deep and even voice, Robbie already loudly announcing his presence and rubbing between Declan’s legs. “Hey, baby dude.” He mrmurs with a scratch to his fluffy butt. Robbie purrs in approval.

“Alright.” she announces with a black leather crossbody bag to match the jacket. Warm for the weather but she wouldn’t get on a bike without it.

“I know I said comfy but, I don’t know if a dress will work for what I’ve got in mind.” He responds with a hesitant face.

“Oh, I’m prepared.” She responds proudly, hand reaching down to lift the hem of her dress to show shorts underneath. “Got bike shorts underneath.” She grins.

“Always prepared huh?” He nods in approval.

“I try.” She smiles sweetly, bending to pet Robbie one last time. “We’ll be back, kay? I put your catnip toy on the bed for you.” She coos at him, taking out her keys.oo

“Hope you don’t mind.” He says, shrugging to the bike.

“I should’ve known you had a bike really. Black Wolf and all.” She answers, putting her keys and zipping shut her purse. “But you’d never mentioned it.”

“I don’t ride her in the winter. Well, not this one anyway.”

“She special?” Bella asks as he moves to grab a helmet out of studded leather saddle bag

“The most.”

“So this is the woman I’m competing with huh?” She chuckles.

He feels his face flush slightly, thankful for the color he’s gotten in the woods the past week to hide it, skin now a warm-toned tan that caught the sun like a dream. Bella wanted to run her fingertips down those muscled arms and feel every curve of muscle he’d earned. “Yeah. My first love.” He explains after clearing his throat. “First bike.” He clarifies, handing her a black matte helmet, same as his. “My mom hated it, so I painted it her favorite color as a way to suck up to her.” He grins at the memory.

“Did it work?”

“Eh. Not really.” He fully laughs and mounts the bike, holding his hand out to her. “You got it?”

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about me. Dad had bikes growing up.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Ugh. Lucky.” He remarks, getting out his keys and readying his foot to kick off. “You gotta tell me about that later.”

“Can do.” She nods with her helmet on, now fearlessly wrapping her arms around him, the warmth of his stomach and chest against her palms and fingertips as the unbelievably soft shirt shifted in between her fingers with the flutter of the wind. He wasn’t reckless or fast and she appreciated it greatly. It’d been decades since she’d been on a bike.

They pull up and Bella peels herself from the hot skin of his leather vest, looking forward to seeing all of in motion as she’d gotten her fair share of his arms during the ride. Although driving out of town had been an unexpected but lovely detour, the site of his arms, which up close rivaled the tree trunks on the sides of the two-lane road they rode on. They pull up to a long line of fencing. His bike not the only one there, but by far the coolest in her opinion.

“Forest Fortress?” She states out loud with a wrinkle of her nose in question as she shakes out her hair from her helmet.

“So you haven’t been here before. Good.” He proudly declares and takes her helmet.

“You gonna tell me what it is or do I have to keep waiting?” She smiles.

“Have you ever played paintball, Bella?” He asks, half bent and securing the helmet in the saddle bag.

“No, but I’ve played laser tag.” She offers.

“Think of it as laser tag that hurts.” He laughs.

“So this is a paintball place?” Her brows go up and she shakes out her dress.

“Hope that’s okay.”

“Hell yeah it’s okay.” She answers with a big grin, bouncing on the balls of her feet slightly. “My legs are gonna get totally fucked though.” She lets out an amused noise.

“Nah, they have protective gear you can use. Wouldn’t have let you leave in that if I thought I’d be bringing you back all bruised. Robbie would never let me live it down.” He kids with a straight face and she manages to suppress a girlish giggle at him beaming a killer smile her way.

With his charisma and gentle guidance, he found that smile that he was worried might only exist at the festival still fully engaged as they went through the steps of putting on gear and teaching her how to use the guns. People knew him there, half bro hugs and slaps to the back in greeting all the way until they were both equipped and ready to head out into the obstacle course.

“So you do want to be on the same team or different ones?” The guy at the last stop before the entrance asks, knowing she was a newbie.

Before Declan can even turn to look at her she answers definitely “Different.” With a big and challenging smile.

“Look at the balls on this one.” the guy laughs and slaps a blue stripe on her gear. “And red for you D.” He remarks with a firm slap to his back. “Clean fight guys. You heard the rules.” He commands and opens the gate to reveal a scattered and varied series of wooden and rope courses in a fenced-in area of the forest. A rainbow of paint colors splatted all over everything. Tarps, haybales, stacks of giant tires, it was essentially a playground for adults. Which was a perfect choice in Bella’s eyes as she scurried away as soon as they crossed the threshold much to Declan's surprise. He was more than thrilled with her enthusiasm for his choice and the feisty competitive behavior it was bringing out in her.

The alarm blares and the shots start. She decides to keep an eye out for Declan, but take out anyone else if they popped up. She took out one person, her smaller size and workout routine she’d amped up for the warmer months helping her out. Declan was at a disadvantage with his height, she would see his back arched and bobbing around but could never get him head-on. So she uses the pole dancing classes to her advantage and shimmies up behind a terrace, thighs burning as she aims and misses. He whips around fast and sees nothing and she decides to just have some fun and jumps on his back, the unexpected attack knocking him to the ground as he hears her distinct laugh from on top of him as he moves to face her.

“Got ya bitch.” She snorts and laughs.

“Jesus Christ Bella!” He mutters out as he scrambles. “Where you even fuckin' come from?”

“Always look high.” She answers rolling off him as she keeps laughing quietly to not draw more attention to them.

“You didn’t shoot me though.” He grins wickedly and holds his gun up to her.

“I missed.” she shrugs. “Worth it though.” She leans back and sighs and smiles at him.

Well dammit, now he didn’t want to shoot her, laid back looking all soft and smiling at him.

“But you haven’t shot me either.” she raises a brow and grins, gun pointing at his chest now.

“Seems we’re at an impasse partner.” he says with a cowboy twang that makes her snort.

“If we eliminate each other, we can start over, or go back to town and eat. If we don’t, we have to walk 10 paces and try our luck with everyone else.” she replies with a playful wrinkle of her nose.

“I am hungry.” he answers with a pout of his lips.

“You know I am.” she smirks.

“A truce? A duel?”

“A...betrayl?” she tilts her head, finger on the trigger as another alarmingly charming smile comes across his face.

He flinches like he’s going to shoot her, only wanted to get her to wince and give her shit for it, but instead he knocks her gun and sets it off when he startles her, shooting him in the thigh. “Oh shit!” She squeaks, covering her mouth and sitting up as he balls up and groans. “Please tell me I didn’t just shoot you in the dick.” she begs with a serious face that makes him contorted up in discomfort, snort and laugh loudly.

“Glad to say you did not.” he groans.

“Oh, thank God.” she exhales sharply, rubbing his arm and frowning. “I didn’t mean-”

“Nah, nah I know. My fault.” he shakes his head. “Guns involved. Shouldn’t have fucked around.” he grunts out, sitting up. “It fuckin’ hurt but I’ll live. Be a nasty bruise. That was so fuckin’ close.” he lets out a pained chuckle.

“Yeah that had to hurt, dude, I'm so sorry.” she gives him an entirely genuine apologetic face, leaned in close to his that was still grimacing as he rubbed his leg.

“I’ll live.” he gives her an exhale and a nod, giving a good show of his words. “Well you know what might help?” he says, leaning and looking at the splat of paint.

“What?” she asks so earnestly he feels guilty already.

“You could kiss it and make it better.” he responds with a straight face and she shoves his shoulder so hard he hits the ground, forcing out a laugh from his chest.

“Maybe later.” she rolls her eyes and stands, dusting off her legs. “You fuckin’ goof.” she shakes her head and reaches her hand down to him. “Timer’s about to go off.” she nods towards the large LED board above the box where the scorekeeper watched.

They walk with his arm around her shoulders back towards the front, her arm around him as if she were helping him along.

“The 'ol seduce and betray. I like it.” the guy at the front holds his hand up for a high five as she passes.

“Oh fuck you Kyle.” Declan bellows out.

“Thanks.” Bella grins wide and answers the guy's gesture enthusiastically.

Since she’s mildly maimed him, they decide to go eat instead of going for another round. The energy sourced of nearly an hour hunting other humans had taken its toll on them both. The same closeness, the same warmth, and smiles they’d grown so fond of from each other over more junk food in a shitty little diner he liked. They talked bike’s, his and the ones she’d ridden, the ones her dad worked on, how he’d wrecked and her mother wouldn’t let him ride now out of worry. He learned about her family a bit and was glad to see she’d had a good upbringing, parents still alive and together, something he’d always wanted in a family and for himself. At that small table in the crowded room that felt like no one else was around, they sat and talked for nearly two hours without even checking the time or their phones, it felt to oddly effortless. They both felt heard and like they were interesting to someone else. They talked about nature, about music, sharing their favorite things that everyone else told them they talked too much about.

So when the time came for Bella to go home, her gut was telling her no. In fact, it was screaming it at her. He’d left with another cheek kiss and a tight hug, proving to her he was more than decent. She watches his broad shoulders slumped, jacket now on to guard against the night chill as he rode, his hands shoved into his jean pockets and biting his lip, wondering if he should’ve kissed her.

'You can’t let him leave', her conscience tells her. 'Don’t let him leave. This day was damn near perfect. You KNOW he wants it and you’re brave enough to admit you do too. Just… get his attention. Do something.' Her brain scurries and her throat turns to stone, her mouth open and trying but her nerves wanting to keep her quiet. It would be real if she made a sound. It would turn into more if she called out for him. Knowing you’re living a defining moment is funny. You can let fear freeze you, taking the easy way out, or you call push your cards all in on the table and win big. Or lose everything. But isn’t a life lived with failures better than a life lived with what if’s?

“Declan.” she forces out, the keys in her hand shaking from her nerves, not even moved to be put in the door.

He shuts his eyes for just a second, hiding the relief on his face. God, he had wanted to say something. “Yeah?” he asks over his shoulder, his hair soft around his shoulders, skin still warm and seemingly glowing in the sconces by the door and the solar pikes in the ground along her walkway despite the sun being long gone.

“I-” she starts and doesn’t know where she’s going. But she started. That was like half of the job, wasn’t it? “I don’t... uh...” she licks her lips and puts her keys back in her purse. “I don’t really wanna go home yet.” she manages, looking down before meeting his eyes.

“Oh.” he says, hiding his delight with pursed lips and a nod. “Well that’s, y’know, fine with me.” he shrugs and turns fully towards her, taking slow steps as her feet also carried her towards him.

“You wanna... I dunno... go somewhere else? Like... somewhere you like to go on a nice night like this?” she offers, eyes hopeful as they looked up at the man nearly a foot taller than her as he ran his fingers through his hair. The night was almost as lovely as he was. Almost.

“Yeah. I’ve got a place. Can’t tell anyone though. It’s a secret.” he leans in and gives her a wink that she doesn’t act exasperated by, just a lazy smile on her face.

“I won’t.” she replies softly.

“Let’s go then.” he whispers, taking her hand and walking her back to the bike.

---

The ride is serene and gorgeous. The moon out, bright light dropping through the tree canopy, the long dull roar of the bike as she held herself against him both rumbling together with the motor. She doesn’t know how many times she sighed, but she couldn’t stop. This day had been so nice and it really was a perfect night to be outside.

To a small clearing they drove through a barely broken in path to a large tree on its side. A marked stopping point, a few others having been removed offered a little meadow to see up into sky. Out in the forest, there was no noise or light pollution to take away from the view. They check that their phones were on silent subtly, they weren't taking any chances of being interrupted.

“This looks like someplace in a movie where teens come to get in trouble.” she remarks with a grin, fluffing her hair and shaking her jacket, standing as he turned to sit sideways on the supported bike.

“Or some 30-somethings looking to get away from everyone else.” he offers with a voice that was deeper and more even when he was among the trees. His face fell softer as if he felt at home there.

“You make this?” she asks, looking around, the moon giving enough light to see around up to the tree line.

“Somewhat. Cleared it out a little. Beat out the path over time. I like to get away up here. Sometimes I camp out.” he shrugs his explanation.

“It’s really nice. It’s so quiet.” she whispers.

“Don’t have to whisper.” he gives her the same warm smile that made her give him a chance in the first place.

“Feels like I should.” she remains quiet, standing closer to him, almost between his legs.

They both occupy the silence, looking up at the stars, feeling a slight breeze, taking in the sounds of nature. She wasn’t used to it. But she certainly felt like she could learn to like it. “I can see why you like this so much.” her voice still soft. “Only missing one thing for me.”

“Wassat?” he mumbles, looking at her with her eyes shut and face to the sky.

“Music.”

“Yeah...no wifi out here.” he chuckles.

“I’ve got music saved actually.” she announces, pulling out her phone and ignoring all the usual alerts.

“‘Course you do.” he gives her a smile, watching her nose twitch in thought as she was lit up from the phone screen.

“What? Should I not play it?” she asks with more genuine concern that makes him even more certain there’s a real soft kitten under that hard exterior.

“No, go for it.” he answers with a casual shake of his head.

“‘Kay.” she bites her lips. “There’s only one playlist I have saved, but it’s a great one. My parents wifi up at their cabin is shit so I saved this one so they could listen to it once I hooked up their stereo in the house for them.”

“Please tell me your parents aren’t country fans.” he snarks.

“No, no. They’re cool. Well I mean, I think they have good taste in music anyway.” she smirks. “It’s all Motown and 60’s stuff.” she explains as the Supremes comes over the phone, she sits it on the back of the bike. “One of moms favs.” she reminisces with a happy expression, moving her hand and hips in rhythm. “We’d watch old recordings and do the dances. I still remember most of them.” she admits with a shy smile. “Guess it’s the dance training. Or we just did it way too much.” she chuckles.

“Dance training?” he asks with a nod of his chin.

“Yeah, I danced as a kid. Mom with her pop culture dances and wanting me to learn the Celtic stuff. She thought I was good at it, so she put me in classes. Dance team in school, that whole thing.”

“Should’ve known.” he huffs out.

She turns her face to him, feet still playing out the easy steps.

“You’re good.” he offers with another charming smile.

“Oh.” she looks back down and smiles at the ground with her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Thanks.”

“You don’t think so?”

“It’s not that it’s just...I’m not really the best at taking real compliments.” she admits with a nervous laugh.

“I caught on.” he offers softly and leans forward.

She continues to sway and he contently watches her, wondering if he should make a move or just let her be. “You have a favorite out of these?” he suggests, thumbing through the long list.

“A few of course.” she snickers at herself.

“I wanna know what you're into... pick one out for me.” he urges, his voice slipping deeper and her body notices as it tightens and reacts.

She nods and leans in, getting close and bending over his long legs. His eyes turn a deep shade of brown, growing more lidded as he moved in close enough to smell the sweet scent of her perfume in her hair. Goosebumps bloomed over her skin at the feel of his breath, she gulps and plays it cool, making another little list of her favorites. She thought maybe she could set a soundtrack. Set a mood that couldn’t be ignored, interject with her encyclopedia of knowledge on the music of the time. She decides to loosen herself up first and get a laugh out of it, always a good place to start.

“Alright. Hit play.” she orders with a cheerful smile, Jackson 5 coming through and it wasn’t what he expected. She starts with the dance steps he knows to be associated with them, little turns and hand gestures and he sits back with crossed arms and nods his head to the beat. He applauds with an impressed face even though she didn’t do much and she bows. A cute smile with flushed cheeks as she leaned over to check the playlist.

“Don’t worry about it. Just relax. That’s what this place is for.” he whispers and stands, pulling her away from the bike. He’d seen the songs on the list, he knew he didn’t have anything to worry about with any mood being killed. With the night ripe and the air tense between them, he wanted to facilitate what he thought she wanted and knew he wanted. Maybe she was more timid with things like this than he realized. Her confident front falters as he takes her into his arms, a hand sliding under her jacket to her back pulling her in, another taking her hand, elbows bent with fingers laced together. The moon was bright enough to see her face, surrounded in a soft frame of thick wavy, naturally almost black locks. Her green eyes caught the light as they sat wide and almost innocent as she spanned over his chest and to their clasped hands. He leans his face down closer to her, his voice sweet and calm, trying to ease any nerves she had about getting close to him.

Her first thought when being taken into his arms was boy, is he bigger up close. But the quick second was realizing how close they’d been already. They’d slept skin to skin, nestled like little bunnies together and she hadn’t had a problem with it. So why was standing close and holding his hand erupting a fire in her stomach that threatened to bubble up and out of her throat with words that took away from the moment? It was like when bypassing her mind, her words changed from yes, I want this, to, did you know that when this song was recorded- putting up her wall to keep her from getting too close. But there was nothing to be afraid of at this point. He’d proven himself on all fronts. He was one of her best friends so quickly it threw her off her game, she didn’t bond quickly with people, she didn’t attract good men who helped their friends and cared about other people. Why was all this happening now?

With AlGreen lending him the mood, he keeps her close, looking down curiously as she looked thoughtful but almost frightened. “Thought you might want a dance.” he speaks, making her look up at him. “It’s all you bothered me about down there, thought you might want to show me a thing or two when it isn’t pouring rain outside.” he offers with a soft smile.

“Or getting electrocuted.” she adds and he feels her take a deep breath, her posture straightening and watching her come back to herself slowly. “Need to slow dance properly.” she almost mumbles, but he’s close enough and observant enough to catch the words. His choice of song isn’t lost on her. “Good one to do though.” she offers with big eyes that catch the moon and shine, making him sigh and only nod in response. He moves his hips to the beat and hers follow suit naturally. “You’re better this time.” she praises.

“Good teacher.” he says with a kind smile.

“Oh. Go on.” she looks down and chuckles nervously.

“Maybe I will.” he speaks low and pulls her closer.

She has to respond so she closes her mouth and blushes. The moments build, the last push in Tired of Being Alone, the vocals screech and he moves them fast in a circle, causing the tension to break as she squeaks much to his delight and he moves his hips and shoulders faster. “Keep up Bells.” he laughs, she does she as she throws her head back for a moment, the song fades fast, her head falling to his chest and she chuckles at how nervous she is. But it wasn’t any match for the next song. One of her mom’s favorites she’d sing to her father when they were being sickly sweet with each other. Natural Woman by Aretha, a song that could move even the most stubborn heart. And Bella was no exception. From the get she knows she’s doomed. Or would it be blessed at this point? Maybe it was a sign. One of those moments her mom told her about. When the universe just tapped you on the head and said, pay attention girl. So that’s what she did. She danced with the one man to make her feel anything since she was young to the song her parents slow danced to when she was young, thinking she wasn’t awake, peeping down the hall to see them swaying in the living room. The string section builds her confidence and takes a deep breath and does what she really wants for the first time in a long, long time.

She looks up at him and gives a little smile, finding him already watching her intently, his face as dark and calm as the sky behind it. She bows back and puts her back to his chest, swaying with both hands interlocked in his for a moment, placing them across her stomach, and she felt no resistance from him. He even bent his knees like she told him, feeling his nose in her hair as it brushed close to her ear. This was how this should've gone at the festival, this was the way they were dancing before and now without a cloud in the sky, there wouldn't be any interruptions.

From his vantage point he watches her shut her eyes, her chin up and head rested on him, one hand rubbing over his, a slow and smooth ascent up her own body, fingertips grazing her neck, pushing her hair out of the way before it snakes up and touches his face. With eyes still closed she turns her head towards his, he can feel her heartbeat racing under his palms. Her fingers are soft and light up his jaw and into his hair. He shivers at the touch, an almost grunt coming from him, putting his head even closer to hers. He wasn’t going to pass up another invitation when she was so boldly presenting it. The words ring too true, and she knows she has to face what she’s doing. She has to be the one to do it, because he’s too good too.

When she opens her eyes he’s already there, looking down at her with his deep, dark brown eyes. A heavy brow almost hiding them if the moon hadn’t been so full. With a brief flutter of lashes at how handsome he really could be so close up, she looks to his lips. His parted just as hers were, trying to calmly get more air as their heart demanded more of them as their pulses raised. As the song rolls into Percy Sledge smoothly, they both know there’s no turning back this time. Nothing to break them apart except themselves, and neither wanted to. A melodic organ he feels in his chest, this’ll be it.

He watches the lump in her throat bob and he smiles, grazing his nose against hers and feels her body give a little shudder when he got close. The air is thick and tense, the night air hot only around them, the moon and stars the only witnesses to what felt like such a monumental moment for both of them. With her head twisted, chin lifted to meet him as close to the middle as she could, they share one more glance between them, a final chance to bail and neither take it. Back down to their lips their eyes move, sharing a breath, his hand moving up to her face, as hers still rested in his hair. They break on the blare of a horn, both their breathing halted with the warmth that washes over them all the way down to their toes.

What starts as one press of lips, almost chaste with his rough fingers against her smooth jaw grows deeper, turn after turn of their mouths, until Bella can’t stand it any longer. With a tiny whimper, the sweetest sound he’s ever heard, she turns in his arms, only parting for a moment and in a flash he runs cold, afraid the moments gone before she crashes her lips back into his, hands on his chest and the other in his hair, he gives over to her, leaning back against the bike, arms moving tightly around her to hold her close between his legs, splayed fingers working lower than they ever had before to her hips and between her shoulder blades, not wanting to even catch his breath as her arms slide around his neck.

They could’ve stayed like that forever. They both wanted to. This perfect moment, him surrounded by nature and her picking the soundtrack to her life was something they both wanted to hold on to for as long as possible. Her chest felt like it was full of fire, the butterflies in her stomach only fanning it with the rapid assault of their wings. Her fingertips tingled, only feeling warmth where he touched her, feeling the press of his impressive hands against her body under her jacket. His lips were softer than they seemed for a man that looked like him. The strong cupids bow and pinked color they natural held were always hidden at least in part by his facial hair, but she was getting to experience the full breadth of them tonight.

The kisses turn softer, more lips, more breathing, and her hands move to his rising and falling chest. With closed eyes still living in the blissful moment, their foreheads rest together as they take a few breaths. Wow, they both almost said. Few kisses felt like that one had. Some might never experience it. A painfully strong mutual attraction based on more than aesthetics. Built on friendship and trust and months of earning a place in each other's lives. It was real and raw and those things felt so rare for both of them.

“I can’t believe I waited so long to do that.” she eventually whispers, eyes still shut as her breaking the silence between them makes his eyes open to see her eyes flutter, half-lidded and pupils blown, fingertips light and shakey on the thin material of his shirt.

“You did it at the perfect time.” he coos back.

“Ugh.” a hand moving up to push back his hair as she beams up at him. “You’re so nice. Sweet, I mean.” she shakes her head, still trying to get the blood to flow to it and not the other brain that was shouting orders at her she was ignoring. “And… patient.” she adds with a huff of a laugh.

“Worth it.” he grins, kissing her cheek, the warmth flooding her all over again.

“Can we just... do more of that?” she lets out a girlish giggle he’s never heard, her head falling into his chest as her shoulders shake. She brings her head back up, shaking the hair out of her face and tracing her thumb over his cheek. “I’m so rusty at this.” she admits and he sees no shame or hesitation in her eyes now, only brightness.

“We can do as much of that as you want.” he kisses her softly. “And you don’t feel rusty to me.” he purrs back against her lips, eyes dark under a relaxed brow as she hummed happily.

“Not bad yourself, Harp.” she nudges her nose to his and smiles into a kiss, a content sigh shared as a kiss grows again. It felt so good, so right, just like she hoped it would. Just liked it should she thinks. He was so hot and pliant to the touch, a small lick of her tongue to his bottom lip makes his nostrils flare, a slow and teasing exchange between them. He bites on her full bottom lip and her eyes roll back in her head, a heavy sigh escaping her. She sucks on his after he releases it with a pop, her tongue moving to explore his own as they shared a more messy kiss, one that was clearly doing something for him as his hands ventured lower. He finally got his hands on that ass of hers, her letting out a little moan as he gave it a slight squeeze.

“Too far?” he asks, still learning the origin of her noises.

She answers by moving up into his lap, thighs on either side of him and shaking her head, putting his hands back where they had been. “No.” she answers before another wrestling kiss forms. Even with the advantage of being on him, he was still not taller than her. This was new for her as well, she’d never been a man this tall this... big. All over big. Or at least she hoped the hard place resting between her thighs was growing proof of that. Her hands slip under his jacket at the shoulders, far past her own in width and she moans as how hard he is under her hands. She greedily explores the planes of him, and he does the same. Hands down his chest to a stomach that was almost hard, fingertips pressed into shoulder blades that shifted as he easily picked her up to resituate her. Which she really didn’t mind at all. In fact she thought she might’ve found a new kink. No man she’d been with had even been strong enough to pick her up and throw her around so to speak, and literally. Her mind was full of racing ideas for him.

They kiss like teens at a make-out point as she’d teased upon arrival. Moans and pants exchanged against now swollen and wet lips, tongue in and outside of mouths as they explored what worked and didn’t, and so far there wasn’t a thing that didn’t feel good. It all felt too good and that was another problem entirely. One of those good problems she’d always heard about but never had herself.

She felt like taking her tits out of her dress, him getting those shapely lips on them and grinding on him until they both came. But she didn’t. She’d like to say she knew better, but she didn’t. She only knew not to go too fast, which is where she’d been burned before. “I know we have to stop at some point. But I don’t want to.” she half moans into a lippy and loud kiss.

He smiles against her. “I know babe. I know.” he groans and moves his hand back up to her waist. Hers on his jaw, thumbs swiping over the short sides of his beard as she kissed the corners of his mouth, the tip of his nose, wanting to feel every part of him against her lips.

“Mmph. That’s nice.” he hums with closed eyes and continues to his cheeks, that masculine brow, over the scar that lies there and one to his forehead.

“You’re very, very kissable.” she giggles, nuzzling his face with her nose. Touching him felt like a drug.

“So you are. Among...other things.” his nostrils flare as she bites her lip at him.

“Will there be time for that later?” she whispers, an almost naughty turn to her words.

“All the time you want.” he raises his brow, his voice deep with grit and hunger.

“How about we make time for it?” she asks, fingers into his beard and scratching, wanting to take in as much of him as she could.

“Mmm?” he asks, grunting as a response to her question and to the affection.

“We should make time. We’re both busy, I don’t want to go another week without seeing you... without... this.” she coos and kisses him softly.

“Then let’s do it. Let me take you out. A real date.”

“Oh, a real one huh?” she teases, kissing his cheek.

“Yeah. We’ll go downtown, meat, and wine the whole thing. Wine and dine.” he says playfully.

“Wine dine and...sixty nine?” she asks before her nose wrinkles and her face falls into a giggle.

“Like I said, whatever you want babe.” he grins.

Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag

#Declan Harp #Frontier #frontier fic #declan harp x reader #declan harp fanfic #declan harp fan fiction #declan harp fic #declan harp au #declan harp modern au #frontier au #frontier modern au #jason momoa frontier #frontier fanfic #frontier fandom #frontier fan fiction #frontier fan fic #declan harp x ofc #declan harp x oc #jason momoa

57 notes · View notes

rmg91 · 5 years ago

Text

The Woes and Antics of Living Together-18

AAAAHHHH!!!!! I've gotten to another chapter I've been dying to write!!! And while the part I was most excited for didn't come out quite like I wanted (Curse me for never writing things down when they happen five months ago) I still like the way that it happened. I'll admit, I'm a little bit mean to Poppy in this chapter but Branch helps make it better.

Enjoy!

Also Friendship Goals-When you and a friend have similar-ish ideas without talking to each other XD

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter; AO3;FF.net

@writerofberk-I feel bad for what I’ve done to Poppy but I also much enjoy the fluff I wrote to make up for it XD

~*~*~*~*~*~

The sky was cloudy but bright with a light breeze as Poppy happily walked back to the apartment, Planning Clipboard in hand. A bag a of fresh, blank invitations hung from her wrist, ready to be customized for the upcoming event. Creek's surprise birthday party was coming along and she couldn't be more excited. Of course, everyone knew Poppy always threw her friends' parties, ever since she was young, but the how, when and where was how the surprise came in and boy did she love to throw surprise parties. They were her jam after all! And she had to make sure this one would be perfect for Creek. She was finally going to tell him how much she really felt about him and ask him to be her boyfriend. There was never any rule that said she couldn't be the one to ask and she was tired of waiting.

Poppy flipped through her list of party essentials as she hummed a love song, check-marking things off as she went. Suki had told her the music was set, a mix of songs to dance to and more mellow ones to set the atmosphere. Alongside some of Creek's favorite instrumental scores from movies. Decorations were all gathered, the usual collection of balloons, streamers, tablecloths and fairy lights, with some more unique additives to fit their theme. They had small Buddha statues to set around, lotus flower cutouts to hang up, scented and non-scented candles, a few incense burners and some pretty gem stones to sprinkle around. Next was the menu, which thankfully they had found a happy medium for, tasty but healthy snacks. They'd have various dips, hummus, guacamole and a Greek yogurt one Poppy found a recipe for, with a host of vegetables and baked chips. Dried fruit and nuts to nibble, fresh fruit parfaits, homemade fruit punch and some of Biggie's infamous deviled eggs. They'd also have a few more traditional party snacks and, of course, the six dozen carrot cupcakes Poppy was going to bake. She also had plans to make Creek a full sized cake too.

Last but not least, was the venue and Poppy couldn't be more excited for it. The university had the perfect outdoor area, trees and flowers surrounding an open area that could host tables and decent sized dance area. There was even a covered area, a pretty wooden pergola, built close enough where they could set out the food! Poppy had checked with the school and had luckily been able to rent the place for the night and she just couldn't wait! It would look so pretty all lit up with twinkling lights and candles. It was going to be magical.

Poppy nodded to herself, seeing just about everything checked off, the only things were whatever last minute details that always popped up and of course her present for Creek. She had thought about going along with the Pack's idea of just her being his present but she wanted to gift him something as well. Trouble was, she couldn't decide. She had seen a really pretty incense burner at the shop they got all the stones from but she also knew he had a tiny collection of them, so she felt like she could find something different. There was also the necklace she saw with the small charm of a mandala but Creek really wasn't big on wearing jewelry besides the friendship bracelet she had made him. She could just always find him a new pair of flip-flops, at least that's what Branch had said when she had been brainstorming out loud. Then it hit her! The perfect gift idea! She could make up a basket of all his favorite bath products! Creek always loved to talk about the benefits of good hygiene and Poppy knew long, hot baths were the only guilty pleasure he really allowed himself. It was perfect!

The pinkette made a note about her idea, listing what she'd need to get alongside a reminded to look up some DIY bath-bombs. She'd always wanted to try making some and that just seemed like it would help make her gift just a little more special. Giggling, she danced a happy jig, her excitement and inspiration overflowing before heading inside her building, an invite decorating storm was about to take place!

~*~*~*~*~*~

Branch was not amused to come home to what could only described as an explosion of paper and glitter. Scraps of construction paper littered the floor around the coffee table, with said surface overflowing with Poppy's collections of craft supplies. Small buckets of shaped scissors, stamps, stamp ink and shaped hole punches were stacked across the far side, various ones Poppy had already used laying loose. Her extensive sticker collection was spread out around her, the folders she kept them leaning beside her on the couch, with a few empty sheets on the floor. There were various types of glue sitting in places and the table sparkled with the tell-tale sign of glitter having been spilled out of its container. A pile of invitations sat completed on the farthest corner, ready to be given out by a smiling Poppy, who was just finishing up another colorful piece of art.

“Welcome home~!” The pinkette sang, grinning up at him happily as he came inside.

Branch had to try very hard not to look away as she flashed that beautiful, happy smile at him. After her little drunk incident, it had been even harder to look at her without blushing but he had promised her he'd try not to act weird around her after that. But it could be so damn hard, she was just too gorgeous when she was in a good mood and it almost, almost, made him want to spill his guts about his affection for her. Add in he could now recall her saying she wanted him well...the last few weeks hadn't been that easy for Branch when he was alone with her. Especially since Poppy had spent a good portion of them planning out a party for Creek.

“Hey.” He finally said back, turning to go find something in the kitchen. What he really didn't know but he couldn't take the risk of just staring at Poppy, “I see you've made a mess of our living room.”

“Oh shush!” Poppy giggled before throwing her arms out wide and shouting, “Art knows no bounds! And invitations won't make themselves!”

Branch rolled his eyes before mumbling, “Could always just get pre-made ones...” Even though he knew she would never, Poppy adored making custom invitations and, if Branch was being honest with himself, he liked seeing her creations. Even if he didn't show it.

Poppy gasped dramatically, having heard him, “Nonsense! I would never!” She giggled before perking up and flipping through her finished pile, “Speaking of...” She pulled one out and scurried over to Branch before thrusting out a colorful, sparkling envelope at him.

“Poppy...” He warned, of course she would try to invite him to the party she was throwing for Creek.

“Please?” She begged, eyes wide and she held out the invitation, “I know, I know. You 'don't do parties' but I promise it's not gonna be a loud, crazy, super amazing one. It's gonna be a little more calm, no flashing lights but still a lot of fun one. Pleeease? You'd have fun~”

Branch doubted that. There was no way he was gonna watch her, and everyone else, fawn over Creek. “No.”

Poppy predictably pouted before she gently shoved the small packet of paper into his hands, “Just think about it, okay? There's time to change your mind.”

Branch wasn't going to but she didn't need to know that. He just took the envelope without fuss and made to go to his room, saying something about having some homework to finish. In reality he was going to add the newest invitation to his collection after opening it. He just hoped she passed on the glitter bomb this time.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The day of the party arrived a few days later and Poppy could barely contain her excitement. She had spent all of the previous afternoon baking and frosting cupcakes, so now she had four dozen carrot cake cupcakes, alongside another two dozen of vanilla. The vanilla ones she had decided to bake at the last minute for some variety and so she could use sprinkles. Sprinkles made everything better. She had also baked up a vanilla bean cake just for Creek and now that it was cool, she just had to work her frosting magic on it but first she was heading to the university. She wanted to get a head start on the decorating before handing off the duty to Guy and Biggie.

Poppy took a look around the courtyard they would be occupying when she got there, grin wide as she pictured how wonderful it would look when they were done. Gathering all the supplies she would need, she stacked all of the streamers, paper hangings, lights, lanterns and all the other bits on a table, organized for easy handling. Then taking a roll of light purple crepe paper, the pinkette looked around for a good starting point, deciding to start with twisting it around the pergola's posts. Once finished with the purple streamers, Poppy grabbed a roll of a pretty aqua green to wrap around the alternating posts and from there started to hang long, twisted rows across the beams. By the time Guy and Biggie showed up, with Suki and her DJ equipment in tow, she had a good base of things started.

Her friends quickly jumped in to help her, so Poppy took a quick moment to film them while they worked before placing her camera back on it's mini tripod. They worked together efficiently after years of doing this and soon they had more streamers stretching overhead with lights intermingling. Suki had her DJ table set up under an awning where it would close enough to hear but out of the way so no one would trip on any wires and Poppy was standing on a chair hanging paper decorations when Smidge rolled in with Cooper. They had the coolers and bags of food with them, so Poppy directed them to store it all inside the small kitchen of the building the pergola was connected to. Said building was part of the Home Economics division and had a few kitchens, one of which they were allowed to use. Once everything was looking like Poppy had envisioned, she left the Pack to complete setting up the tables and such while she headed home to decorate Creek's cake and grab his gift.

Coming home, she wasted no time gathering up the ingredients for buttercream frosting, calling a greeting to Branch who was reading, and threw them all in her stand mixer. Carefully, she pulled the cake out of the oven, where she stored it for safe keeping, and divided it in two. Once satisfied with her frosting, she split it in half and dyed one lavender and the other mint. She then spent the next hour and a half making the cake look how she wanted it. It would have been quicker but she'd wanted to make sure that her crumb coat was fully set in the fridge before continuing, that particular cake recipe was always crumbier than others. She had just piped some frosting flowers around the edge and was piping 'Happy Birthday Creek' on top when she decided to ask Branch again if he wanted to come along.

“Are you suuure you don't wanna come?” She said, focused on her cursive, “It's gonna be fun~”

“Yes, I'm sure.” He grumped at her from his seat in her chair, eyes not leaving his book, “I told you the weather report said it was going to rain today and I am not getting stuck out there in it.” The other reason, of course, was because he didn't want to see Poppy hanging off of Creek and listen to whatever crap the 'guru' always spewed.

Poppy rolled her eyes, setting her piping bag down to gesture outside the window, “It's not gonna rain, Branch! It's sunny and clear,” True it had been a little breezy but that was nothing, “The weather report has been wrong before.”

Branch scoffed, “Still not going and don't blame me when you get rained out.”

Poppy was just about to reply when Satin and Chenille came through the door, “Poppy!”

“We came to get you and save you another trip,” Satin exclaimed, “Are you ready?”

“Just about!” She quickly added a few finishing touches to the cake before sliding it into a box and grabbing Creek's gift basket, “See you later, Branch!”

“You're gonna get rained on!” Was his parting reply.

~*~*~*~*~*~

After arriving back at the venue, Poppy slipped the cake into the fridge for safe keeping until it was time to serve it before placing her gift with the other few. She then took in all of what the Snack Pack had done while she was gone with a grin. Tables were set up, the white tablecloths fluttering in the breeze, with candles and small flower centerpieces adding charm and whimsy. Some of the incense had already been lit so there was a faint aroma of lavender and vanilla in the air and the lights had just been turned on. Poppy was ecstatic with the way everything looked, especially with the setting sun starting to cast a pinkish glow over everything. Taking her phone out, she quickly snapped a photo to post later before turning to her friends.

“This look amazing, you guys!” She clapped before pulling them into a group hug, “I think Creek's really gonna like it!”

“Oh for sure,” Guy agreed, smirking playfully, “You planned it after all~”

“Stop,” Poppy giggled, “You all helped.”

“But you did the majority of it,” Satin said, wrapping her arm around one of Poppy, “But we'll admit, it needs one more thing...”

Chenille wrapped her arm around Poppy's other, “You to look amazingly stunning~! Come with us!”

Poppy laughed as she was dragged away to the nearest bathroom for a patent Couture twin style up.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Almost an hour later, Poppy twirled in front of the bathroom mirror, once again impressed and proud of the fashion sisters. They had sewn a brand new dress for her that was a dark aquamarine in color and in the halter top style she loved. It had a sweetheart neckline and the straps wrapped around her neck, leaving her back bare for her tattoo to show. The waistline was cinched slightly under her bodice with a small decorative bow off to the side and it was knee length with a sheer overlay of sparkly organza. Her hair had been pulled up into a higher ponytail with the ends curled so they bounced when she moved alongside the tendrils that framed her face. Her make-up matched with glittery eye-shadow in the same color, light pink blush and strawberry pink lipstick. A matching headband with one silk flower and silver, strappy heels completed the look.

“Girls...” Poppy awed as she spun again, loving the way the dress spun around, “This is beautiful! Thank you so much~”

“You're welcome!” The chirped in unison.

“Now there's absolutely no way Creek won't ask you out tonight.” Giggled Chenille.

“Yes! And we'll all make sure he gets a chance to!” Satin added.

Poppy giggled with a nod, “Right!” She then spun the face them with a clap, “Now let's get out there! Guests should be arriving soon and after that the birthday boy himself! You guys made sure to tell him to meet us here for something right?” It was a safe bet Creek already knew there was a party happening, Poppy was never subtle about that sort of thing but she still hoped it would be a surprise anyway.

“Guy texted him at lunch saying he needed to see him for some school thing.”

“Great!” Poppy clapped, smile wide, “Then let's get out there!” This was gonna be awesome!

When they rejoined the rest of the Pack, Suki had started up the tunes as a few people had already started to show up. Poppy greeted them happily, trading hugs and thanks for coming. She got lots of compliments for how pretty she looked and was even pulled in to some selfies with Guy, since they were both looking gorgeously fabulous. As more and more people began to arrive, Poppy could barely contain herself as she eagerly awaited Creek's arrival, excited for when he'd come to see what they'd put together for him.

The sky was turning progressively darker as time went on, dark clouds moving in and blocking out the few visible stars and the slowly rising moon. Poppy couldn't help but bite her lip as she looked up from lighting a few candles. She hoped they would just blow away soon and that Branch wasn't right about the weather taking a turn for the worst. Her friends tried to assure her it would be alright, if it started to drizzle they could just take the party into the hallway of the Home Ecs building. She had nodded but a tiny knot of worry was starting to form in her stomach, especially when there still wasn't any sign of Creek.

She was trying not to let it show how much she was starting to fret, it wasn't like Creek to miss something without saying anything, when she felt the first rain drop hit her nose. She glanced up at the clouds as more drops began falling, the peppering of rain hitting the sidewalk echoing around her. She and the Pack quickly directed guests indoors before the rain got too bad, snacks and gifts being grabbed to save them from the water. Poppy hoped it would just a quick little storm, nothing bad enough to delay the party too long but as the rain began to fall harder and faster, soaking all their hard work, the pinkette couldn't help but be disappointed. It also didn't help that there still hadn't been any word from Creek.

Poppy looked down at her phone, hoping to see some missed notification or something indicating Creek had reached out but all that greeted her was her lock screen's picture. She tried not to frown, tried to interact with everyone but as time went on and people started to leave before the storm got any worse, she couldn't help it. It was so unlike him to not say anything, even if he didn't know they were throwing a party for him, he knew they wanted to see him so for none of them to have a message from him...Poppy didn't know what to think. Suki had suggested calling him but before Poppy could try, Guy mentioned he already tried that with the call going straight to voicemail.

Poppy sighed, thoughts and feelings a turbulent mess, “Let's just...call it a night then...” She didn't want to, she hated canceling parties but there was nothing else to be done with the weather the way it was and with the guest of honor missing.

“Pops...” Suki exhaled, reaching out to place a hand on her friends shoulder. She knew how much Poppy had been looking forward to this.

Poppy forced a smile at her orange haired friend, trying not to let it show just how upset she was, “It's okay, Suks'. It's getting pretty bad out there anyway.”

Suki nodded slowly before pulling the pinkette into a hug. Poppy sighed softly and hugged her back, soon enough being engulfed by the rest of the Snack Pack. When they disengaged, Biggie and Guy helped Suki gather her equipment, Cooper went to look for something to store and carry the small pile of gifts, and Smidge went to break the news to the few remaining guests. Poppy peeked outside from the door, looking out into the storm and knowing that they'd have to come back in the morning to clean up when Satin and Chenille approached.

“What do you say to a sleepover tonight?” The younger twin offered, smiling hopefully at her.

“Yeah, yeah! We can give each other Mani-Pedi's, facials, watch trashy romance movies~” Chenille' chimed, hoping the allure of some girl time would help perk Poppy up.

“Ah...” Poppy stalled, not wanting to hurt their feelings but not feeling up to all that, “Thanks you guys but...I think I'd just like to go home...”

The twins shared a concerned look before nodding at Poppy, “Alright...”

“At least let us drive you home?”

Poppy quickly shook her head, “No, I won't let you guys do that. You live almost on the other side of town from where I do and I won't have you out in that for longer than you have to be. I'll just take the bus.”

“But Poppy-” Chenille started.

“Guys, really, it's okay.” Poppy really didn't want to try and explain that she...just didn't want to be around anyone right now. She kind of just wanted to cry really but she didn't want that happen in front of her friends, she was sure it wouldn't help them feel any better about this situation either, so she'd rather have it happen when she was by herself.

The twins frowned and huffed slightly but relented, not liking letting Poppy be by herself tonight. That was when Milton approached, an umbrella in hand, and smiling softly, offered to escort Poppy to the bus stop. She accepted and after another group hug, and promises she'd meet them tomorrow to clean up what was left outside, Poppy and Milton left to reach the bus stop before the next bus arrived.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Poppy waited for the bus for possibly a little longer than she had to after she waved goodbye to Milton. She had been thankful he hadn't tried to talk her into going home with him and Smidge and had just shared a sympathetic smile before leaving her. She shivered under the awning as she sat there, thinking maybe she should've changed but unable to fix that now. The pinkette stared down at the ground as she waited, frowning at the cement as she hugged herself for warmth. She couldn't accurately describe just how she was feeling at the moment, disappointed that the party had gotten rained out and that all their decorating was now ruined; sad, upset, hurt that the person this was all for hadn't shown up or even called! It was so unlike him too... And the more Poppy thought about it, the more she felt the prickling of tears in her eyes, but she wouldn't cry...not yet at least.

When the bus finally pulled up, she scrambled up the steps and, after disposing of some change, took one of the many empty seats. Poppy leaned her head on the cool glass and listlessly watched the scenery go by, wondering if there had been anything she could've done to change the night's outcome. Of course she knew she couldn't have controlled the weather but maybe she could've been the one to tell Creek to come or maybe even tell him they were throwing a party for him. That would've ruined the surprise sure but...maybe he would've shown up. Sighing, she really didn't know, she closed her eyes tightly to prevent tears from falling as the urge to swelled. She really didn't want to cry here on a public bus, she'd rather wait until she was surrounded by her many stuffed animals and could muffle herself in her pillow.

It was weird to see the streets of town so empty, she thought once the urge passed, the storm having forced everyone home or inside. Poppy watched the rain run in thick sheets down from the sky, the wind blowing it at an angle and sparing nothing from getting drenched. She sighed, wishing for nothing else that she was at home and curled under a warm blanket. Well...she also wished Creek had texted or called or something because it was so unlike him not to and she couldn't figure out why. She knew he wouldn't allow his phone to run out of power or be turned off, it also wasn't like him to misplace it and he would never, ever, just not show up. He always made sure to let someone know if he couldn't make it or if something was wrong. Poppy had worried briefly if maybe he was hurt or had gotten sick but that was silly as he was always safe and was as healthy as can be. There was no way he couldn't have gotten sick, he was fine when she had talked to him that morning.

Sighing once more, the young woman just couldn't come up with a reason as to why he hadn't shown up. Looking out at the dark streets, Poppy noticed a few familiar shops and realized she was close to home, a few more blocks and she could go curl up in her room. However as she was picturing herself cuddling the stuffing out of Fuzzbert 2, the bus started to slow down, with no bus stop in sight. Looking toward the driver, Poppy saw him struggling with the controls before the bus came to a complete stop. The driver tried to turn the bus back on by turning the key a few times but nothing happened.

Sighing, he turned to face Poppy and the two other patrons, “Sorry, folks. Looks like we've run into a little engine trouble. We'll be stuck here until help comes.” He then turned back around to make a phone-call for help.

Poppy leaned back against her seat, frowning, before thinking about what she could do. She really didn't want to sit here... Glancing outside, she knew the thought in her head probably wasn't the best idea but she really just wanted to be home right now. Plus a little rain never hurt anyone. Getting up, she went to the front of the bus and asked if she could be let out here. The bus driver gave her a skeptical look, tried to tell her it would better if she just waited on the bus but she assured him she didn't live that much farther from where they were. Shrugging, he said alright and opened the door for her. Poppy said her thanks before rushing out and under a convenient shop awning.

Bracing herself, she continued to race under awnings and overhangs of shops until she was around the corner and out of sight of the bus. She then took a moment to lean against the side of the building she was by and stare out into the rain. Okay, so yes, this was a bad idea, to walk the rest of the way home in the pouring rain but she was already wet now. Closing her eyes, she let out a little whimper, finally breaking and letting her tears fall. Stepping out into the rain, Poppy let it wash over her, flattening her hair against her skull and ruining her make-up. She really didn't care all that much though, but she did hope the twins would forgive her for soaking the dress they'd made. The dress they had made for her to impress Creek, Creek the person they had been trying to throw a birthday party for, the person that hadn't shown up...Poppy let out another whimper as she thought about everything again, but just wound up more confused and hurt than she had been already. This night had been a disaster.

Finally reaching home, she went inside to the elevator and shivered as she rode it to her floor. She hoped Branch was occupied in his room or maybe even asleep because she really didn't want to listen to him lecture her. Digging out her keys with wet, shaking fingers, she unlocked the door and let herself in.

However the universe wasn't on Poppy's side at that moment as Branch was standing in the kitchen. He looked at her as she came in with wide eyes at her drenched state, hair and dress clinging to her, the flower on her headband dropping and creating a puddle from where she stood. She watched him open his mouth to say something but she held up her hand to stop him, “Please, Branch...just...don't.” She sniffed and hugged herself, head dipping low, “You were right, okay? It rained, enough said, I don't need you to lecture me...”

Branch blinked at her, shocked not only at her coming home so early and admitting she was wrong but also at her body language screaming that something else was the matter. Wanting to ask what was wrong but not wanting to upset her more, he ran a hand through his hair, he was out of his element here, before growling, “Just...stay there.”

He hurried to the linen closet and pulled out two of Poppy's biggest and fluffiest towels before coming back and finding Poppy had only moved to drip on the kitchen floor. Ignoring the way her dress clung to her curves, he wrapped one around her shoulders and after she took hold of it, draped the other over her head. He began to rub the towel over her hair, frowning when she didn't make a noise of complaint. Branch had figured she would be disappointed when the party was ruined by the storm but the way she was acting...something else had to have happened. This wasn't the usual Poppy he dealt with.

When she sniffed quietly under the towel, he couldn't help but ask, “...What happened?”

She was silent for a long moment, and he wasn't going to fault her if she didn't want to answer, when she softly murmured, “...Creek never showed up...”

Branch stilled, unable to comprehend what he just heard but also completely able to believe it. That absolute bastard! Poppy hadn't been subtle with her planning, never was when it came to something for her friends, he had to have known, but for him to not show up?! That was low, even for him. Wanting to go find the jerk and rip him a new one with the sudden, overwhelming urge of protectiveness, Branch's attention was brought back to Poppy as she sniffed again. Taking a deep breath, he'd contemplate what he wanted to do to Creep later, right now Poppy needed to be taken care of.

Carefully tilting her head up so their eyes met, he spoke softly, “Hey, listen to me, okay? Go take a warm shower, nothing too hot or you might shock your body. Then blow-dry your hair, okay? You shouldn't go to bed with wet hair and I am not dealing with you if you get sick.”

Poppy blinked, taken slightly aback from Branch's soft tone but nodded anyway, “Okay.” She then carefully stepped back and shuffled around him to head to the bathroom.

Branch watched her go, concern written clearly across his face before sighing roughly and running his hand through his hair again, there had to be something he could do to cheer her up, right?

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Poppy emerged from the bathroom almost an hour later, wrapped in her comfiest pajamas and feeling...well not better, she was still pretty upset but the overwhelming urge to just cry had left, she was met with the sound of whip-cream being sprayed and the delicious aroma of hot chocolate. Wandering back down the hall, she found Branch by the counter, spraying a large dollop of whip-cream into his mug, one of hers sat next it with a smaller dollop flouting on top. Branch glanced up at her and almost dropped the can before smiling awkwardly.

“Uh, hey,” He greeted, rubbing the back of his neck, “I-um..made some hot chocolate.” He carefully held the mug out to her, “We were out of marshmallows though, so I hope you don't mind the whip-cream... I, um, also plugged your phone in and texted everyone you were home.”

Flashing a very small smile, Poppy took the mug gratefully, “That's fine... Thank you.”

“Ah...no problem..” Branch mumbled, feeling just a little uncomfortable doing this, he wasn't use to doing things like this, “I-uh...” He cleared his throat and tried again, “I also queued up a movie if you...felt like watching something...”

Poppy looked over at the TV and sure enough there was Tangled, one of her favorites, all ready to be played. She felt another small smile grow across her face before she took a sip of her drink and glanced at Branch, “I think I do actually. Thank you...” She paused before asking, “Do you...wanna watch with me?”

“Ah, well...” Branch grimaced, hating to disappoint her more, “I actually have to finish studying and writing a paper,” He gestured toward the table that was covered in his text books, “But I'll be out here...”

Poppy nodded and shrugged, “Okay.” She then shuffled over to the couch and, finding Fuzzbert 2 already there waiting for her, snuggled in to watch.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Poppy watched the credits roll, a soft, content smile on her face as she leaned on Branch's shoulder. He had come over and watched the last few minutes with her which had made her glad. She twisted her head to look up at him, arm wrapping around his in a show of thanks and affection as she thanked him. While she still didn't feel better, she was starting to feel less sad.

“Not a problem,” He answered her, not bothering to remove his arm as he watched the credits. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye before asking, “Want to watch anything else?”

Poppy thought for a moment before nodding, “Yeah, I think I do.”

Branch moved then, getting up the switch movies, “Any requests?”

“Hercules, please.”

The blue haired man nodded and loaded in the movie, joining the pinkette back on the couch before pressing play. She snuggled back into his shoulder, arm wrapping around his again and happily waited as the movie started, all while the storm raged on.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Poppy awoke later on, she knew it was later in the night; or early in the morning; and the storm was still going hard, rain and wind rattling the window. The TV was the only light source, casting a dull glow around the living room, the start screen for the movie still showing. She blinked blearily for a moment before realizing she was warm and that her pillow was moving. Glancing upwards, she found Branch sleeping soundly and that she was cuddled into his chest. Smiling, she shifted slightly before crossing her arms and resting her head on them, watching her roommate sleep.

He was the absolute sweetest, even if he didn't want to admit it, having done all he did for her when she came home wet and upset. Grabbing towels quickly for her and drying her off, making her hot chocolate, watching her favorite movies with her until they fell asleep in the couch, it was everything she hadn't known she'd wanted to be done. Sighing softly, feeling content and safe in his arms, Poppy was happy to fall back asleep but not before carefully leaning up and softly kissed his cheek and whispering, “Thank you.”

She then happily snuggled back down, sighing blissfully as Branch unconsciously hugged her tighter to him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Morning came and with it's dull, gray light filtering into the apartment, woke the two on the couch. Poppy's eyes fluttered open before she yawned, noticing the storm had passed and was now just a steady pitter-padder of rain. She rubbed at her eyes as Branch shifted beneath her and let out a large yawn himself. He groaned slightly, not bothering to open his eyes and tried to sink farther down into the cushions.

“We've got to stop falling asleep on the couch...” He mumbled, uncaring that his arms were still wrapped around Poppy's waist.

The pinkette giggled sleepily, gazing up at him, “Want some coffee?” After Branch hummed his affirmation, she shifted to get up, placing her hands beside his head as she hovered above him.

Branch opened his eyes then to look up at her with a drowsy expression, “Hey...You feel better?”

“Yeah...” She answered quietly.

He smiled then, something small and sleepy, before unconsciously raising a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, “Good...Like seeing you happy...Suits you.”

Another soft giggle and Poppy gently nuzzled her cheek into his hand where it rested, “It suits you too.”

Branch snorted before letting his hand fall away and his head lull backwards, grunting, “Coffee.”

Poppy giggled once again and got up, letting her hands trail through his hair as she walked away to start the coffee machine. Humming the tune to 'I See The Light' softly, she filled it with some of their shared favorite brand before turning back to see if he had sat up, only to find he had instead fallen back asleep. Watching the steady rise and fall of his torso, Poppy decided to let him sleep a little longer, it was the least she could do after all he'd done for her. She would always be thankful for that and for having such a caring best friend.

~*~*~*~*~*~

GUYS! YOUR FEELINGS A SHOWING!

And, Poppy, gurl, you still don't see it yet? Okay, I did that on purpose but still XD Anyway! See told you Branch helped make it better! And Creek's a real creep not even texting to say he's not showing up but that was all planned and we're getting really close to the climax of this fic! I can't tell you how excited I am for that!!! I've been waiting to write these next few parts since January!!!

So I hope you all enjoyed and look forward to the next chapter!!

#Dreamworks Trolls #Branch #Poppy #Broppy #Fanfiction #Human AU #Modern AU #Roommate AU #dreamworkstrolls #Snack Pack

5 notes · View notes

sidhewrites · 5 years ago

Photo

Chapter 1b. Previous Installment found here, summary page found here. Approx. 2000 words. As always, feel free to send Asks or Messages about what’s written or anything you’re curious about.

Trigger warnings for vague mentions of body horror, amputation, war, and gun violence.

It was the first exam since the revolution. Lesser Witches of every region were sent to their nearest Small Council Hall to be appraised for their aspects and strength, and ultimately attend higher magical education in England at the University of Mages. Power varied from person to person -- a pair of twins may have opposing aspects, or the same. One may be powerful and one weak. Cleaning witches were much employed by hoteliers, while inkwitches were found often in publishing houses or trained by professional artists.

Zorya had met a Greater Witch once, with both fire and water aspects, who was strong enough to power an entire steam train on his own, but the magic rot had set in astonishingly fast. She’d caught sight of his arms, like charcoal up to the shoulder. Ruined. He couldn’t even hold a pencil. But before the revolution, he had been paid handsomely to ever need to write anything himself. Most Greater Witches served the party directly nowadays, as strong as ever, if not nearly as rich.

But the Arkane Council wanted magicians. Even Greater Witches had no more than two aspects at a time, and couldn’t harness the same amount of arkane energy as a magician could.

Other young adults were all lined up outside the Small Council Hall for preliminary registration, some with their friends and others with siblings. They chatted among each other in excitement, anticipation, frustration. Few witches stood silently or alone, and those that did still held themselves with pride. Each one stood with their respective familiars, ravens and owls, mice, toads, and at least one red fox. Each of them bore the same copper brooch on their formal coats’ lapels -- three crescent moons joined at the apex, the sign of a Lesser Moscow Witch.

Zorya herself was certainly among the least. She didn’t want to be here, not really. It gave her the illusion of hope -- that she might be given passage to Paris and study under a proper magician. That she wasn’t as useless as the cat curled up around her shoulders.

But she knew the truth of it. She knew how well her magic worked, and she knew that candles and soot were far from useful in the eyes of the Arkane Council. Witches had only one or two specialities at most, and they wanted a magician. Someone with no single focus or specialty. Who could master any and all branches of magic. Not someone who made pretty shapes out of dust and couldn’t even control her familiar.

A little ways down the line, another witch stood with their familiar -- a handsome barn owl with a ring of gold about its face. The witch had to be about Zorya’s age, a notably pale young woman with fair yellow hair that seemed to float about her in a breeze. No doubt magical. She made a gesture, and the owl took off from her arm, soaring across the street to retrieve a piece of shiny in the road -- a lost button or screw, most likely -- and return to her hand with it, all within a span of seconds.

Zorya looked hopelessly down at her wretched cat, whining inside the bag. He tossed about and struggled, desperate to be let out, but only his little white feet managed to escape every now and then.

At least she knew better than to hope.

One by one, the line moved forward as witches were called up by a severe woman with razor-sharp features who barely looked up from her ledger. A rat sat on her shoulder, sweet and unfazed by the wretchedness of its witch. After producing their license, the witches were sent into side rooms to be examined by uniformed officials, for almost twenty minutes each. Nearly two hours passed before Zorya was called to the podium.

“Name, age, city of origin,” the woman demanded, in a voice no kinder than Zorya’s herself.

“Zorya Kosheka, twenty-three, Moscow.”

The woman flipped through her list, and stopped at Zorya’s name. “Your parents aren’t listed.”

“I was raised in a children’s home twenty miles from here.”

The woman scribbled a note. “Familiar?”

“Noski-Nezhit, male cat. Black. Stupid.”

Noski yowled from inside the bag, as if to emphasize her point.

“Interesting name.”

“It’s because --”

“I don’t care.” The woman looked up just long enough to glance at the bag. “Can you control it?”

“I can contain him.”

The woman raised a brow. She scribbled another note and held out a bony hand. “License.”

Zorya handed it over, a small piece of paper announcing who she was and whether or not she was legally permitted to practise magic without direct supervision or outside her occupation. Few individuals were. Zorya wasn’t. It was dangerously close to a status symbol in the eyes of some non-magicians, though that didn’t stop a few from breaking the law and practising magic in their own homes, where they were only rarely ever caught.

The woman returned Zorya’s license and an added slip of paper for the officials’ use. “Room three on the left.”

Zorya did as she was told. Two officials waited for her in the room, one in a surgical costume, one with a clipboard. They sat in chairs at a small table, and a curtain hid half the room from view. Noski whined, still pawing at the bag. Zorya tried not to be ashamed.

“Papers,” the man with the clipboard stated.

Zorya presented them. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket -- a veritable luxury -- lit it, and began to take notes.

“Is there any reason you would find yourself unable to attend the University of Mages?” he asked.

“No.”

“Anything in your medical history?”

“Nothing that keeps me from doing my job.”

“Political?”

“I fought on the side of the Bolsheviks, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Fought?”

“Fought.”

The official held her gaze for a moment. He was a sturdy man, muscular, scarred on the face and ear. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark suit. Finally, let loose a breath of smoke and made a note.

“Says here you work with soot. Show us what you can do.”

“I need something burnt.”

The official raised his brow, and pulled the cigarette from his lips. “Will this do?”

Zorya nodded. She raised a hand and flicked her wrist, pulling the ashes off the cigar and into the air. It spun itself into a sphere, then into numbers, and finally down into the rubbish bin.

“Is that it?” the man with the clipboard asked.

“That’s it.”

“I see.” He took a note.

Zorya tried not to be offended. She knew it wouldn’t go well from the start, and there was nothing but her pride at stake.

She presented Noski next -- or tried to, anyway. The second she opened the bag, he shot out, yowling, and bolted across the room with his fur bristled.

The officials remained unmoved as Zorya, ears burning, held out a hand. “Noski, here.”

He meowed and leapt up onto the table. Slowly, his fur smoothed out, and he relaxed.

“Noski,” Zorya tried again.

Noski looked at her, then at the men. He lay down, rolled onto his back, and meowed.

“Noski.”

The man with the clipboard made a note.

“I keep him in a bag,” Zorya tried. “He’s a good anchor when he isn’t being…”

Noski’s attention was now firmly centered on licking himself clean, starting with his crotch.

“Himself,” Zorya finished helplessly. “Should I help with his examination?”

He had to be examined, she knew. They had to ensure he would last long enough to be a proper familiar. While Zorya had no doubts about Noski’s ability in magic, she had every doubt about how well this exam would go.

“No need.” The doctor approached the table without warning, and pushed Noski down. The cat yowled, struggling and spitting as the man forced Noski’s jaw open, examining his teeth and gums, before checking his ears, glands and lungs. He moved quickly and efficieintly, evidently used to far worse patients than a single miserable cat.

It was the heart that gave him trouble. The doctor pressed the stethoscope to Noski’s back, throat, and belly, brows furrowed, and ultimately looked back to Zorya.

“I can’t find his pulse.”

“He’s always moved too quickly,” Zorya said, the same answer she’d always given when the problem came up. “The veterinarian I last took him to said that it makes it hard to detect his heart sometimes. He’s otherwise healthy.”

The doctor nodded, first to her then to the other official, accepting her answer without question.

Zorya’s own medical exam went more smoothly, if not more frustratingly. She removed her greatcoat and hat and did the basics at first -- height, weight, eyes, balance.

“You drag your left foot,” the doctor observed.

“I know.” Zorya offered nothing more.

From there they examined her teeth, tongue and hands -- the first places magic rot tended to show itself. The doctor scrubbed soot off her hands, and had her wash them with soap, but her fingers remained blackened and stained.

“How old is this?” he asked.

“Three years.”

The doctor frowned, and nodded at her feet. “Please remove your shoes and socks.”

Zorya stiffened, set her jaw. “It’s nowhere else.”

The doctor remained umoved. “Policy dictates a full examination. You’re lucky I’m not asking you to remove all your clothes.”

She bit back a curse. He was right. Most magical exams required a full body medical exam as well. Her doctor was being lazy, or modest, but it didn’t matter. Better she only show him that none of her other extremities were starting to rot.

Zorya sat roughly on a chair, and kicked off the right boot, rolling down the stocking to reveal her too-thin leg. She’d scraped her knee a few days prior, and at least one of her toes had clearly been broken years ago and didn’t set right. But it was pale as the rest of her, without any sign of rot.

“And the other one?”

“It doesn’t need to be checked.”

The doctor looked at the other official, who made a note on his paperwork. “Uncooperative,” he announced.

Unconscious and unwanted dread settled on Zorya’s shoulders. Uncooperation was somewhat worse than being a terrible witch in the eyes of the state. It brought up questions of loyalty, of honor. And she’d be damned if she let someone question where she stood after everything she’d done.

So Zorya sneered and tore her other shoe off, followed by the sock, and revealed her left leg. Or at least, what was left of it. It ended just below the knee ending in a clumsy stump that had been rubbed raw from years of neglect and poor upkeep of her prosthetic -- a once-sophisticated wood-and-metal leg that chafed against her skin, held up by partially-rusted metal joints at the knee and leather straps at her thigh.

The doctor raised his brow. “It certainly doesn’t show signs of magic rot,” he allowed.

“When and how did you lose it?” the other man asked.

“In the revolution. From an infected wound that turned gangrenous.”

“And the cause of the wound?”

“Gunshot. I don’t remember who did it.”

The man scribbled a few notes on his clipboard. “You said there was nothing in your history that would get in the way of work.”

“I didn’t lie. Talk to the station master if you don’t believe me.” She hadn’t missed a day of work in years. Not even pneumonia had been enough to make her take a day off without being ordered to.

“I see.” The official made one more note, and looked to the doctor, who simply shrugged.

“If she can work, she can work. Nobody needs to walk to move a pile of dirt around.”

And with that, Zorya passed the physical exam. The man with the clipboard stamped another paper, and she was given it alongside her license. From there, she made her way to the main hall of the Small Council to join the others in a single file line to await the Grand Magician.

Tag List: @fearlings-lament@maitretmaitresse

Please send a message to be added/removed from this tag list. Like my writing? Buy me a virtual coffee to support it!

#writeblr #historical fiction #historical fantasy #nanowrimo #wip #writing #wyrdwitch #wyrdwitch chapter

1 note · View note

paradisobound · 6 years ago

Text

24 Hours with an Angel

Summary: Dan was always doomed for hell, he knew that. So when his time came and he finally was free of his body, he wasn’t shocked to find that he did end up in the same fiery pits that he always imagined. But what he wasn’t expecting was to be on the right hand side of Satan himself...as a counsel member who looks at a list of names of souls all eternity. When one of the names poses an issue, an angel named Phil is sent to retrieve it from hell but there is only one problem: the soul isn’t there either. Now, Dan and Phil must go on an adventure and retrieve the soul in 24 hours but the only problem: Dan was ordered to bring the soul to hell and Phil was ordered to take it to heaven.

Warnings: mentions of death, hell, and heaven

Word Count: 2.5k

This is Part One. Part Two will be posted on Friday, November 2nd

[Read on Ao3]

A/N: this is my Halloween fic and I actually really love this idea. I don’t even really know how I came up with it but I am really enjoying writing it. I sadly didn’t have time to finish it before Halloween so I had to split it into two parts but part two will be up Friday! Hope you all enjoy and happy reading! :)

The thing was, Dan was rather sick of everything. He hated how he had to sit at his job and overlook everything around him. He hated how he had to look his people in their eyes and spit at them when they begged him. He hated how everything was unbearably hot.

But most of all, he hated the fact that he was the assistant to the devil.

When Dan died nearly fifty years ago, he didn’t realize that he, quite literally, had a golden seat in hell emblazoned with his name. But when the darkness called and he was found screaming in the pits of fire, he was greeted by a massive male with pitch black eyes and frankly, Dan thought this was it. He was doomed to be tortured in hell forever.

Then his hand was taken, his skin scorched by the overwhelming heat that the other male was omitting. He was led to a series of thrones, chairs if you will, where, if Dan could guess, thousands of other men sat. And now he was convinced he was definitely being tortured in hell because what else does an anti-social person like Dan need? A job where he’s around other people for literally eternity.

He saw his name on the seat nearly immediately. It was hard to miss the giant golden letters saying “D.J.Howell | June 11th, 1991 - September 15th, 2018” shining back at him. He was pushed into the chair, his ass meeting the hard material quite forcefully. He had half a mind to protest when the figure began to finally speak to him.

“Daniel James Howell.” The figure paused. “You have been chosen to serve on Satan’s council for the rest of eternity. Your decisions will help decide who comes to hell with us and who goes to heaven. Each day, you will be given a list of names of those who are battling in purgatory. You will cast a vote and help us decide the fate of those souls.”

Dan felt a little overwhelmed at first, because how in the—pardon the pun—hell was he going to do this. He was literally going to be deciding the fates of other people. He couldn’t possibly do this. Wasn’t this…God’s job?

He didn’t protest though. He sat back in his seat and was handed a long scroll of paper. He began looking over the names and whelp, this was the start of Dan’s eternity in hell.

But now it’s been fifty years and he’s sick of going through the names and going through the information, only to cast a vote and then have those same people come to hell and begin to beg. And then if they came begging to him, he was forced to scream at them to shut up until they did. And if they didn’t, he’d have to yell for the ‘pokers’, they do exactly what you think, to poke the person with hot coal until they submit and are thrown into their own hell.

Dan just hates this though. He’s never been one to like the autonomy of a life like this day after day. It was partly why he dropped out of law school and became a radio show host. But also, to be fair, Dan didn’t exactly live to see a lot of his life anyway. He only lived to be twenty seven and he died quite abruptly when he was the product of what happens when a car and a bus don’t stop for a cross walk in London.

But from what he did live, he knew he didn’t want this life of just self-autonomy. And now he was stuck…forever…doing this shit every day. Every day it was a new list. Every day it was a new vote. Every day it was another group of poor souls being shoved down here and screaming until Dan’s ears bled. And this is exactly what he’ll be experiencing forever.

He wanted excitement. He wanted something to change the way his life was stuck in this continuous cycle. He just needed a change.

And he wasn’t expecting to ever get one.

That was until the warning sirens went off and Dan had seen a sharp white light leak through above him and there was suddenly a pure white angel standing on the cliffs of hell in front of Satan’s throne.

Dan was mesmerised. He’d never seen an angel in all of the times he has been here. Angel’s only come here when something important needs to be done. He’d heard the rumours of their blinding beauty but he was never expecting to actually see one, and one be so stunning as the one stood right there in front of everyone.

Their wings expanded probably ten feet and they were clothed in a white loose fitting button down with a pair of white slacks. Their hair was a black quiff and they wore glasses—glasses! Dan couldn’t look away.

“What are you doing here?” Satan’s loud voice rumbled throughout the pits of fire.

Dan doesn’t get to hear his boss speak often, mostly because he doesn’t actually do a lot of the work. But sometimes he gets to hear the crimson skinned male speak and today was one of those times.

“I was sent by the big guy to collect a soul.”

Satan scoffed. “There are no souls here for you to collect.”

The angel shook his head. “Nu-uh.” He said, wagging his finger. “There is a soul down here by the name of Johnathan Scott, age 53 from London, and I’ve been given strict word that I need to take him with me to heaven. He’s not supposed to be down here.”

“We don’t have a soul by that name.” Satan snarled out, the growl sending a shiver down Dan’s spine.

The angel’s brows furrowed. “God has a record right here,” he pulled out a small clipboard from his shirt, “that says that Johnathan was sent down here less than a year ago.”

Dan felt a warmth creep up the back of his shirt because he recognised that name from his expansive list. Johnathan was due to die a week ago but by some miracle, he was still alive. He remembered seeing his name disappear from his list before his very eyes not long ago. The name, age and location all matched the angels.

Satan’s hand reached out and snatched the clipboard from the angel’s hand, the paper searing and smoking under his touch. “We don’t have him. Tell the ‘big guy’ that his records are wrong.”

He threw the clipboard down at the angels feet and the angel rolled his eyes before bending down and picking it up, his wings fluttering. “Well, then where do you suppose he is?” The angel snapped back. “I have to take a soul back up to heaven and it’s supposed to be Johnathan’s.”

Satan laughed, a cruel loud laugh. “Did the ‘big guy’ even check to see if this soul was dead? Maybe the soul he’s searching for is still roaming the Earth.” Satan then turned in his throne and all of the members of the council turned their attention to him. Dan just kept his attention fixed on where it was before. “In fact, have any of my council members come across the name Jonathan Scott?”

Dan took a breath—well, not so much a breath because he was dead, but an intake of some stale warm air—and slowly stood up, cowering slightly. He’s never really had to face his boss before. “I have.” He answered meekly.

Satan’s brow cocked up and his eyes, black as the night sky, became even darker in anger. “And what do you know of the name?”

“That his name disappeared from my list not long ago. He’s still alive.”

Satan quickly turned and faced the angel who was now looking petrified where he stood. “If you want your soul so badly, angel. You better go to Earth and get it.” His lip curls up into a smirk and his teeth ground together as he snarled, his neck craning down to get right into the angels face.

The angel immediately cowered and backed away, sighing quite sadly.

And if Dan didn’t feel bad enough for the angel, Satan quickly turned again and pointed his sharp nailed finger to him and bellowed “And you! Mr. Howell, will go with the angel. Maybe you can convince soul to come down here instead. God and I always did fight over what we both wanted.”

Fear immediately soaked into Dan’s body. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to anything of this. He’ll take back everything he’s said about wanting a change in his internal hell. He just wants to go back to reading names and casting votes.

But instead, he found himself walking away from his chair and following the cracked stone pathway up to where the angel was stood, blinding him, and he stood beside him.

He faced forward, ignoring the white light beside him as the angel visibly shook. Satan’s cracked lips were curled into a smile as he looked them both up and down. “Daniel, you have twenty four hours to go with this ‘angel’ and make sure that the soul gets down to us. If the soul isn’t in our pits, you will be damned to the fire for one year.”

Dan swallowed hard. He could actually cry right now. In front of Satan. That was quite horrific.

“Now, begone.” Satan bellowed. “Out of my sight with you both.”

Dan was lost. He didn’t know what to do and he stuttered. But then there was a hand grabbing onto his arm and tugging left. He looked up to see that the angel was muttering to himself as he dragged Dan down the long pathway to the outside of the cliffs.

He could hear the souls screaming in the pits and the thought of that being him terrified him. He was gonna have to convince this angel to let the soul come down to hell, for a little bit anyway, so he wouldn’t have to suffer this.

“—and now I have this stupid demon to attend to.”

“Excuse me?”

The angel stopped his dragging and turned his head. “Didn’t realize you were listening to me.”

Dan scoffed. “Kind of hard not to when you’re dragging me along.” Dan looked around. “Where are you even taking me?”

“To the elevator.”

“The elevator?” Dan repeated.

The angel nodded. “The elevator to heaven.”

“We’re going to heaven?” Dan asked.

The angel rolled his eyes. “Must you ask so many questions? Yes, I’m taking you to heaven with me. But do forgive me, I’ll have to leave you in the waiting room as I talk with my boss about what I have to do to retrieve Johnathan’s soul. He doesn’t exactly like demons in his presence.”

“Why not?” Dan asked back. “Isn’t God supposed to love everyone?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” The angel snapped back, repeating his previous statement, beginning to drag him once again. They made it to the edge of the cliff where the angel pressed a hole in the wall and the doors to the elevator shaft opened up. Before Dan knew what was happening, he was being pushed into the elevator by the angel and as soon as the angel stepped in, the doors shut and the elevator began rushing up.

“You can relax.” The angel laughed. “It’s about a ten minute ride.”

“How am I supposed to relax?” Dan countered. “I’ve been in hell for fifty years now and I literally don’t know anything about the outside world anymore.”

The angel turned to him, his blue eyes meeting Dan’s brown…or so Dan thought they were still brown. He hasn’t looked in a mirror in a long time. “It’s pretty much the same. I’ve been dead for nearly a hundred and I go out into the outside world a lot to retrieve souls. Not much changes.”

“Oh really?”

The angel nodded. “Still find it a little bit ridiculous that flying cars aren’t a thing.”

“They’re not?” Dan gasped out and the angel laughed.

“My name is Phil.” The angel said suddenly. “Well, my mortal name was Phil but up in heaven I’m mostly called Angel number 5688943.”

Dan smiled. “I’m Dan. In hell, everyone calls me Daniel. Which I guess makes sense considering that I hated it when I was alive.”

Phil snickers. “It’s odd.” He begins like a thought. “Every demon I meet is normally rude to me. You’re actually not half bad.”

Dan scoffed at that. “I’ll have you know that I’m not even sure that I’m considered a demon. I literally just look at a list all day.”

“Your name is emblazoned onto a chair within the devil’s counsel, Dan. You’re a demon. Your soul was doomed to be in hell since the day it was created.”

Dan didn’t like being called a demon. In fact, he kind of hated that too. Or maybe he just hates too much nowadays. He finds that he does hate a lot.

He stands in silence with the angel until a sudden thought appears in his head. If he’s an important member of the counsel to the devil, is he even allowed into heaven? Even if it is just briefly?

“So let me get this straight. If that’s the case, about my name being emblazoned on the chair,” Dan begins to counter, “Am I even allowed to go into Heaven?”

The angel turns to face him again and nods slowly. “Well...yes. But you’ll have to remain in the waiting room. Like I said before.”

Dan is completely flabbergasted right now. Nothing in his mortal life has prepared him for the idea of heaven having a god damn waiting room.

“There will be plenty of magazines that you can read while you’re waiting for me.” Phil says just as the elevator whirls and sputters a moment before coming to an abrupt stop already. Dan could have sworn Phil said it would take ten minutes but it didn’t feel like ten minutes. Yet again, nothing feels like anything nowadays. And he always knew time was a social construct. The only reason why he even knows how long he’s been dead is because the scroll has a different date on it each time.

He was prepared to say something else but when the doors opened, and blinding light rushed through the crack, Dan gasped. He didn’t have any breath to be taken out of him anymore but if he did, he surely would have been winded by the sight.

He had already claimed this before, but now he’s 100% certain, nothing in his mortal life has prepared him with how absolutely stunning heaven really was.

#phanfic #phanfiction #fluff #smut #angst #angels and demons

49 notes · View notes

grailacademy · 6 years ago

Photo

Welcome To Grail Academy - Chapter Eighteen: Shot You Down

This was it. The day of exams. The tests were separated by grade, so a giant crowd of nervous first-years huddled together at the end of the courtyard, trading notes and tips. SAND and PWTR could be seen among the sea of freshmen, clutching their teammates close in the middle of the chaos. The third-years waited together by the clocktower, casually leaning against its side and chatting about the newest modifications they made to their weapons. Barely any of the seniors were present, but those who showed up on time trudged onto the campus clad in sweatpants and fuzzy socks, sipping cups of coffee and chewing on microwaved breakfast sandwiches. Esmerelda, Bernard, and Nico stood with the second-years, a group that was more excited than anxious about the tests. Four professors walked out and separated among the grade groups, Miss Pearl to the first-years, Mr.Kismet to the second-years, Professor Choi to the third-years, and Ms.Divine to the fourth-years. They were all led off in different directions, some to the tournament hall, some off the academy grounds. The second-years followed Mr.Kismet to the center of the quad, where the students stood at attention in a line.

"Sophomore class, correct?" He took a moment to glance back at his clipboard before continuing. “You’ll be our second group for the exams.” BRVI stood at attention next to the leftovers of EBNY, most of them relaxed and ready except for Iris. She plucked at the tassels of her skirt, almost raising her hand to ask a question but deciding against it, so as not to interrupt Kismet’s announcement. He eyed the one student curiously, tucking the clipboard under his arm. "It's not a written test, if that's what you're worried about." Mr.Kismet had a knack for guessing what people really meant when they said something, or even what they didn't say. These kids seemed a little nervous. I'm not actually allowed to tell you anything else about the exam, but I do have to ask: How much do you all weigh?"

The group raised a collective brow, and Nico was the only one with enough sense to question it. “Yeah, hi, quick question: Why?” Mr.Kismet looked him over, tapping his finger on the edge of the clipboard. "Hm....yes, you'll be just fine, you're small enough." He didn't give a clear answer, and it insulted Nico when the teacher brought up his slight size, but he decided to move on and record all the weights he heard down on the paper.

Looking over the numbers he scribbled on the paper, Kismet paused in his writing before nodding and tucking the board under his arm once more. “Okay. Now that that’s done, your ride should be here in a few minutes." The teacher tapped his foot a little impatiently, looking up to the sky again. "....I must apologize. We were supposed to be off about 10 minutes ago." Then a low whirring sound could be heard, off in the distance, getting closer and louder, until the whirring sounded like chopping. An airship breached the horizon of buildings and trees, hovering over the academy. Now, with his hair and tie flapping around in the wind, Mr.Kismet had to yell over the engines. "--ALRIGHT, THERE'S OUR FLIGHT."

The airship was a sight for Bernard, he never got close to one and they had only ever come into his hometown to pick up people who worked outside of the region. He had ridden in one to the academy, but being so close to one was still a new thing for him. Meanwhile, Beau began to stow her weapon away in the hostler on her back so that she wouldn't lose it. As the ship got closer she had to grab onto her headscarf to keep it from flying away. Vert took several steps back from where the ship was landing and covered his ears. His faunus hearing didn't do well with all the loud technology, nor did Esmerelda’s. The rest of the students held on to their coats and covered their faces to keep their hair from whipping about.

The airship lowered to the ground in the middle of the wide courtyard, engines still whirring as the tired school teacher strolled over, chatting with the pilot and pointing to the group of students a few times before boarding the aircraft. Then he motioned for everyone to follow, and sat down in a seat. This airship was surprisingly small compared to most others. Aside from the fact that it wasn't Atlas tech, though, it seemed to function just fine. The mostly wooden hull of the vehicle was dinged and scratched up towards the bottom, and upon closer inspection one might find initials and symbols and doodles carved into the wood. There was definitely a couple of the weird S things on there, and even more carvings and school-bus style graffiti on the inside of the ship. "Apologies for asking about weights, sometimes the ship can get rickety since it's so small. Standard procedure." That didn't make a lot of people feel much better about the situation, but Mr.Kismet couldn’t care less.

Everyone filed onto the craft, taking seats and buckling in. Once it took off, everyone started chatting again.The flight was about 20 minutes to Northwest, consisting with a few kids getting motion sickness, and everyone else completely ignoring the safety belts on their seats and reaching over behind the chairs to talk with their friends. Just as jokes were being traded, the ship took an abrupt tug, turning to the right and coincidentally sending most of the snacks students had pulled out flying either around the cabin or out the entrance. As this happened, the engines of the aircraft began to grow louder, so Mr.Kismet had to once again shout over them so the students could hear. “EVERYONE UP." The teacher himself unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, walking down the cabin and marking off a check list as he counted each student.

Every student unlocked their belts and stood up, taking in their teacher’s explanation. Iris was still fumbling with the tassels on her skirt, Vert and Rowan were prepping their weapons, Nico held his bat over his shoulders, Esmerelda twisted the rings on her fingers, Beau grabbed hold of a safety handle on the wall, Bernard shoved his hands into his pockets, and the rest of the kids made attempts at acting casual and uninterested. “As you may already know, semester exams are one of the most important tests you’ll take during your time here.” He twisted the end of his curly mustache, walking to one end of the airship as he explained. "We are currently flying over a lake with a surface area of about 143,200 square miles. There are small islands and anchored docks scattered across it. Your objective is to find the searchlights hidden on each of the islands and use them to signal the airship to rescue you. There is only one catch: There are a limited number of searchlights, and they’re all guarded, so you will have to fight for your chance to be picked up. These searchlights are connected to routers that will recognize your scrolls to identify who has turned on the signal. There is also a hidden lighthouse somewhere in the middle of the lake, where a special searchlight has been planted. If you can find it and turn it on, the airship is required to rescue everyone at the lighthouse. So you are not completely out of options if you can't find a searchlight of your own. But, the lighthouse is also guarded, so you have to defeat the protector before you can turn on the beacon. There will be no parachutes. There will be no calls for help. This is a pass/fail exam." Mr.Kismet sat back down in his seat and buckled himself up tightly, and suddenly the airship tugged and flipped so far right that it tipped on its side, the open entrance facing the lake as everyone began to fall out. "Good luck.”

“Wait, what-” Beau never even finished her sentence before the entire second-year class was flung out the side of the airship, miles over the large body of water. Most people were screaming and flailing their arms and legs, but there were some that were actually prepared. Like Bernard, who activated his semblance and made himself lighter. Instead of plummeting into the water like the rest of his classmates, he glided down like a feather onto one of the islands. Esmerelda was holding her hands around her buns, keeping them tightly in place. She had to aim herself away from the water, or else her hair and coat would be ruined! She straightened herself out and pointed her feet towards one of the docks. Not the water, not the water, not the water, not the water, not the- She missed dry land by a few measly centimeters, splashing into the lake. Ugh. She hated water. Nico was barely paying attention to Kismet’s report when he lost his footing and fell into the sky, but while everybody else was trying to slow down and aim for soft spaces to fall, he took it as an opportunity. A very fortunate opportunity. Grinning wildly, he tucked his knees up into his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. “CANNON BALL!” And with that, he crashed into the water with a splash big enough to trick tourists into thinking it was a whale breaching.

When Esmerelda crawled onto the dock and pulled herself up, she was soaked. She looked like a long haired persian cat that had just taken its first bath. Her fur coat lost its volume and weighed down on her shoulders, her buns were hanging loose like floppy earmuffs. She held her arms out as everything dripped off her. “....Great.” She looked around. She was the only student on the dock so far, though she could see splashes off in the distance, signifying classmates who made their landings. She pulled her coat off and twisted it, wringing it out and exploring her new surroundings. Her heel clanked against something metal on the floor, the aforementioned beacon. It was currently closed, the metal flaps that narrowed the beam of light folded over the bulb. But that wasn’t what stopped her in her tracks. The logo on the right flap was the academy’s insignia, but underneath it was a line of text indented into the metal. Equipment supplied by Versailles Production Co. She shouldn’t be surprised. Of course her father would have a hand in Grail’s business ethics, the family company had their fingers in all sorts of pies, all over Remnant. But it didn’t make her any less unhappy about the sign of her father’s presence here. In the back of her head, she could hear their last conversation, the stringent tone in his voice. Reminiscing would have to wait, because at far end of the dock behind her, Esmerelda heard an ominous growl.

3 notes · View notes

teresa60521-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Side Effects

chapter 2: fatigue

Waking up to the fluorescent lights and the calm blue and white resembling a hospital room was not pleasant. Uraraka thought for a moment that she had died and gone to heaven or something dramatic like that, but after sluggishly feeling for her pulse she was put at ease. Her eyelids were heavy but she forced them open despite the blurriness of sleep. There was a pounding against her skull that sounded like the steady thrum of a bass drum.

“How are you feeling, dear?” A gravelly voice came from her right. It was much different than the one that had spoken to her through the wood of her dorm room door that morning. This was older, much older, and more feminine. Uraraka turned to see Recovery Girl in her green chair, smiling at her softly. It was her worst nightmare, waking up in the place that she had oh so desperately been avoiding.

How was she here again? Oh yeah, she collapsed.

Bakugou wasn’t going to be happy when he found out. Heck, he probably already knew since the fall came during their practice time. If he could he would be sitting in the plastic red chair beside her bed, waiting for her to wake up so he could scolded her back into sleeping. However he would never jeopardize the secrecy of their relationship like that. Not that the wrinkled woman to her side would tell a soul, but Bakugou would still never allow himself to show weakness in front of anybody other than her. And maybe All Might.

“Ah, I’m okay.” It came out more passively than she had hoped and she felt a little guilty.

“Your friends told me you’ve been feeling ill for a couple of days now.” Recovery Girl cut right to the chase and Uraraka cursed her traitor friends. Damn them for being so tentative to her health.

“Um, well, yes. Just a little… vomiting and dizziness in the morning but then it goes away!” Uraraka trilled.

Recovery Girl hummed and nodded, writing on her clipboard. “How long has this been going on, exactly?”

Uraraka bit her lip. “I guess… Since Saturday.” It was Thursday now and the nausea was still as strong as it had been that day. Uraraka didn’t say anything about it.

“You ought not push yourself so hard, dear.” Recovery Girl advised.

“Yes ma’am!”

“Though, I don’t think this is all about stress, you know.” Recovery Girl scooted closer to her and tilted her head to the side. Her nerves bounced against each other, uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the old woman’s gaze. The woman may be short but she was kind of intimidating. “I healed you yet I didn’t detect any changes in your state.”

Uraraka’s blood ran cold. “Oh?”

Recovery Girl only smiled. “Which is strange. Do you mind if I ask you a couple of personal questions? It may be a bit awkward but it may help with the situation.”

“I… I guess….”

Uraraka honestly had no idea what kind of personal questions Recovery Girl was going to ask her. Didn’t her parents have to sign a waiver or something like that? Was that only for jail purposes? Uraraka had no idea how these things worked but she was almost seventeen, she shouldn’t be this nervous. Plus Recovery Girl knew what she was doing. She was at least eighty years old; she had probably seen much worse than this. Nausea and fatigue weren’t all that bad in the scope of things.

The smile never faded from Recovery Girl’s face. It made Uraraka feel a little better, at least. Until she opened her mouth. “Are you having a regular menstrual cycle?”

Uraraka blinked. And then she blinked again. What did that have to do with anything? She shifted a bit uncomfortably, paper thin sheets rustling with her. In all honesty, the brunette couldn’t remember her last period. One, two months ago maybe? She thought it was normal to sometimes skip a cycle or two. It happened to everybody, right? She had always had a regular period, getting it the same week every month since she was twelve.

“Um, two months I think?” With a quivering hand she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear. Her face felt hot and she tried not to make eye contact with the nurse, who was scribbling something onto the paper attached to the clipboard.

“Are you sexually active?”

Uraraka bit her lip. She didn’t want this sweet old lady knowing her business. It was almost taboo in their country to have sex underage but there was no denying that she and Bakugou had, had sex before. She could only count on one hand how many times they had done it, but the deed was done, right there in the dorms. Teenagers were sexually active all the time, though it was mostly swept under the rug. It’s why perverts like Mineta were so rampant, as they would only experience sexual pleasure through their fist and at the earliest they would experience it in college. But it did happen before and it was normal. If two people were in love then naturally they would have sex, right?

Uraraka was close to regretting it as she couldn’t gauge the look in the nurse’s eyes.

“...yes.” Uraraka hid behind chocolate tresses falling in waves against her face. She was glad she had been growing it out so she could avoid the gaze the nurse was giving her.

“Have you been experiencing anything aside from nausea and dizziness?”

Uraraka thought for a moment. “I guess I’ve been a little bit more tired than normal. But I just need to pace myself with my studies.”

Recovery Girl looked at her sympathetically. Uraraka didn’t understand. Why was she being met with sympathetic black eyes?

“Oh hun.” Recovery Girl rolled closer and pat her leg where it was covered by linen of the bed. Uraraka’s heart thumped painfully against her ribcage. Anxiety buzzed through her veins and sat on her chest, lungs barely filling with air.

She was not prepared for the older woman’s next words.

“These are early signs of pregnancy dear.”

The air that was so desperately trying to fill her lungs escaped and forgot the passage to flow back in. Big brown eyes became impossibly wide and vision became unfocused. The room spun and although Uraraka tried to fix her gaze on something in the room, she could not. Everything made sense yet she just… couldn’t believe it. She was only sixteen, Bakugou only seventeen. They were too young to be parents. Too young to make life changing decisions such as this. Even if she had just been hit with the news, that could potentially be wrong though she did trust the older woman, Uraraka already felt an overwhelming responsibility for the thing growing inside her.

“Are you sure?” Uraraka whispered, feeling incredibly small.

“Well, there’s only way to know for sure.” Recovery Girl stated. “We’d either have to take a blood or urine sample to be able to tell. Or do an ultrasound, but we don’t have that equipment here as this is unheard of at our school.”

Pulling her knees to her chest, she sat up and shook her head. No, she didn’t want to do that. She didn’t want to know. Not right now, not tomorrow, not the next day. Not ever. This was too much . Too much responsibility and too much news for one afternoon. She wanted to curl up against Bakugou and forget that this even happened, wanted to run her fingers through golden hair and tell him how cute he was. Like a little, angry pomeranian always ready to pounce. That was simple, everything with Bakugou was simple.

This was not.

There was a careful “I’m sorry dear” and then the sound of wheels skidding across linoleum, moving back to the desk. Uraraka closed her eyes, willing her breathing to even out. Nausea returned and clawed at the back of her throat. The demon was back, pleading to be released from the confines of her closing throat.

Pregnant? Really? She and Bakugou had been very careful, using condoms the each time they had sex They had only had sex four times. Uraraka wracked her brain for the details of each instance but it all came down to the pleasure and not the important things like condoms or birthcontrol. She had never thought to go on birth control until that moment.

The cyclical rise and fall of her chest from deep breaths allowed her to calm down and slowly she uncurled from the fetal position. She was released after Recovery Girl did one more check and Uraraka stood on wobbly legs. There was nobody to share this with, not that she would be able to spill in the first place. Her way of coping was to push it to the back of her mind and not believe it . It wasn’t the brightest decision but for now it was the best one.

“Uraraka-san!” Two voices called as she left the infirmary, causing her to jump a little. She was too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice that Midoriya and Iida had been waiting patiently for her.

Uraraka stiffened but tried to keep her emotions under control. “W-What are you two doing here?”

Iida pushed his glasses up. “We came to see how you were doing of course. You gave us all quite the scare! You really need to take more care of yourself! You knew you were sick and you still did not take proper precautions in going to see the doctor.”

Her bespectacled friend never failed to make her giggle with his odd way of speaking. “I’m sorry, Iida-kun! But Recovery Girl said-” I’m pregnant.She couldn’t tell her friends this, she realized. If she really was pregnant then she would have to tell them whose baby it was. Bakugou would need to know first, out of courtesy.

Bakugou was a ticking time bomb, literally, and his reactions to this particular situation were unpredictable. Would he be happy? Would he freak out? Uraraka was leaning towards the latter.

“She said that it’s just from exhaustion.” Uraraka hated lying but she knew it would come in handy these next few weeks.

Midoriya frowned and Iida’s mouth pulled into a thin, disappointed line. He launched into a lecture about how she really needed to take better care of herself and if she knew she was sick she should’ve rested up. Midoriya said that he would make her soup and despite her protesting that she really was fine now they dropped her off at her dorm room, soup still promised and Iida still ranting.

Finally able to lay down she flopped face first into her pillow and exhaled. This was all a disaster. She didn’t like having people doting on her and taking care of her; she had been independent for quite some time now considering her parents were always out of the prefecture for work. She was used to nursing herself back to health. Having her friends forcing soup down her throat made her sick again.

Midoriya brought the soup by a half hour later and Uraraka took it with a smile and said that she really just wanted to rest right now, thanking him all the while. Midoriya didn’t look convinced but respected her wishes and left her be. The soup was tasty and left her feeling full and lethargic, content to staying in bed propped against plushy pillows for the remainder of the night.

Her mind did somersaults trying to come to terms with what Recovery Girl had said, her hands fleeting over her stomach more than once. She couldn’t imagine a human growing beneath her skin and inside of her. She couldn’t imagine herself carrying a child for nine months, growing bigger and bigger. She didn’t want to even think of the excruciating pain of childbirth. She didn’t want to think about how she would have to give up her dreams of becoming a hero in order to raise a child.

Yet, if she was pregnant, she couldn’t see herself giving it up.

But she wasn’t. There was no way. Her body was just tricking her and tricking the nurse. She was definitely just sick.

Uraraka didn’t know how long she laid there and pondered her future for but there was suddenly a knock at her door, jerking her from her wandering mind. Half of her wanted to ignore it but the knocking became more persistent, and that could only mean one thing. It had her scrambling from the sheets and stumbling over her own two feet. She opened the door just a crack and peeked out. Deja vu struck when a familiar pair of crimson eyes glared down at her. Strong hands forced the door open, long enough for him to slip past and close the door behind him.

“See what happens when you don’t listen to me?” Bakugou chastised, lifting her chin with his finger to force her to look at him.

Uraraka pouted. “I really didn’t think there was anything wrong!”

Bakugou lowered his voice as if they weren’t the only two people in the room. “You were literally vomiting this morning! How the hell does that say you’re okay in any shape or form?”

“I don’t know!” Uraraka threw her hands up.

Bakugou sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. There was practically steam coming from his palms and his nostrils but Uraraka knew he was trying to stay calm. “You scared the shit out of all of us, y’know. You scared the shit outta me .”

“I’m sorry.” Uraraka touched his cheek and he covered her hand with his. The contrast between the softness of their skin was striking, Bakugou’s palm littered with tiny nicks and scars from the usage of his quirk. Uraraka only had the pads of her fingers that added to the innate softness of her hands.

“What did the old hag say?”

Uraraka snorted. “Don’t call Recovery Girl that. She’s healed your sorry ass many times.”

Bakugou nipped her thumb playfully. “Oi, language.”

Uraraka tipped her head back and laughed. “Don’t you dare tell me to watch my language, Mr. King of Explodo-Kills.”

“That was a great name, I don’t care what that Midnight bitch thinks.” Bakugou shook his head. “Just tell me what the old woman said, come on.”

Uraraka bit her lip. Lying seemed to be in order again. She hadn’t wanted to lie to Iida or Midoriya earlier and she sure as hell didn��t want to lie to Bakugou. She couldn’t remember the last time she had even told such a big lie. Though there was no proof yet that she was actually pregnant, the thought was still there, the elephant in the room, only visible to her.

“It’s just from overworking myself, like I thought.” Her voice was as steady as she could possibly make it.

Bakugou stared hard at her and Uraraka swallowed around a gulp of air. Then there was a soft kiss pressed to her lips. “Stupid girl,” mumbled Bakugou and Uraraka grinned as he spoke through their kiss.

“You’re the stupid one for thinking that it would be anything else. You should listen to me more often.”

Bakugou scoffed. “In your fucking dreams.”

Instead of replying, Uraraka insistently kissed the scowl off his face, now that the threat of being sick was out of the way. They tumbled into the bed, soft kisses linking them together for a long while. The feeling of Bakugou’s strong arms caging her in made Uraraka feel secure. With every brush of Bakugou’s tongue against her own and across her jaw, Uraraka felt sparks pop beneath her skin. Bakugou had that effect on her, dazzling her senses with his entire being.

It was Uraraka’s biggest secret that Bakugou was gentle. He handled her as if she were thousand year old China, as if she would shatter into microscopic pieces if touched the wrong way. Despite what Kaminari, Kirishima and Sero had said after their fight, she was far from fragile.

It all felt incredibly domestic, lying in bed with Bakugou, slow kisses tilting the world ever so slightly and making her dizzy. The comfort and exhaustion from the day made Uraraka fall asleep against his chest, blankets cocooned around their hips. She didn’t feel sixteen years old, curled up to her secret boyfriend after sneaking him into her room. She felt like this was meant to be, that she was much older and living the life she was supposed to be living.

The next morning she was brought back down to earth, bent over the toilet, head curled over the rim. Her stomach purged into the water below and hot tears burned behind clenched eyelids.

The words morning sickness swam through her hazy mind and it caused her to puke once more. She briefly wondered if she should take Recovery Girl’s advice and get some sort of physical proof of pregnancy. The idea made her dig crescent moons into pudgy thighs.

Only one person could really help her right now. It was the same person who she had collapsed in front of the day before. It wouldn’t be too hard; it would mean that she would be exposing her secret, a secret that was only half of her’s to share.

Another lie told wouldn’t hurt, right?

#bakugou x uraraka

26 notes · View notes

rohobi · 7 years ago

Text

Pulse 03 | (m)

COUNT: 8k Words CHAPTER SUMMARY: ❝There are wounds that never show on the human body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.❞ LISTEN ▶

↳ INDEX → CHAPTER 4

↣ SEOUL HEARTS HOSPITAL | Dr. Kim Taehyung

Changing into a new pair of blue scrubs in the bathroom, Taehyung asks himself at which point did everything in his life go wrong. He was so tired. So fucking tired and so fucking unhappy and so fucking miserable. He’s been hiding it behind a smile, burying it deep within him.

A pain like no other.

He scrubs his face with a cleanser he thinks belongs to Dr. Yoongi, hoping that it might make him feel grounded in something other than misery. But no matter how hard he scrubs, the feeling’s still there.

Like scum.

Patting his face dry with a white face cloth, he takes a deep breath. It might as well tattoo itself across his face, nothing could take it away. Sadness made its home in his bones a long time ago and now he was living with the consequences of it.

The memories of a happy life he once had, grew into shards of glass over time, cutting him up in the inside. Why can’t he go back to that time? Why can’t he be that person he was? Why does he feel so damn guilty all the time when he was just trying to be a good son for a mother who’s on her way out?

The wounds he sustained, ripped open at every reminder of you, are his worst enemy to date. He wonders if his mother’s aware that everytime he smiles, the ingenuity of pretending to be happy tastes like rotten fruit on his tongue.

He could never be happy again, as neurotic as that sounds, he doesn’t think he deserves to be.

He hates himself.

Staring at his face in the mirror, he takes another deep breath as he stands up straight. He adjusts the lapels of his pristine white coat while brushing his teeth with his other hand. At least he enjoyed his job, the patients were usually older adults who reminded him of his grandmother, it was nice being around people who liked him. Lots of broken bones.

It was ironic, a doctor who could mend broken body parts for other people, lived uncomfortably with a broken heart.

One he broke himself.

One he could never mend on his own. Taehyung wondered if he would get any category one acute surgeries tonight. He loved the cases from ED. Traumatic neck of femur fractures -the greater trochanter fracture in particular were fun, he enjoyed being the specialist whenever he ran down. He loved the spinal injuries and the tibial fractures, knees and shoulders.

Bones. He loved them. It was the best distraction from life that he knew. Taehyung had always been really interested in Emergency Medicine but he could never do it, knowing it was your speciality and knowing you’d never want to see him again.

He tried to respect that, he tried to respect the distance you wanted but sometimes, he just wants to know if you're okay. If you're happy. If you're loved. If you ever kept his child. If someone took up the space in your life that he used to. He's too afraid to act on those curiosities, to cowardly to come forth, too ashamed in himself for letting people control him, too ashamed for never standing up for himself, too afraid of the consequences his family offered if he did not follow their orders. He was a coward. Rinsing his mouth out, he frowns at himself in the mirror. This was the real him, the real Taehyung, the real person who never put up a pretence, someone who was unhappy and in pain every single day. But who else wasn't in pain. He adjusts the red, blue and green pens in his front coat pocket and wraps the bright red stethoscope from his pocket, around his neck. He turns the light off before closing the door behind him. Checking his pager, he clips it on to the waistband of his pants before pushing through the doors with his shoulder. Dr. Yoongi, Taehyung’s bestfriend, waits in the hallway for him with a coffee and an apricot danish for Taehyung. “Morning loser,” Yoongi says, handing him a bag and a coffee, “Got you a coffee that resembles your taste in woman.” "Morning? It's like 8pm," Taehyung smiles, sipping the bitter tasting beverage. “Yuck, Yoongi, my taste in women is not bitter.” Yoongi smiles. “You know, she called me last night, told me you hadn’t come home in a month, that true?” Sighing, he rolls his eyes. “I sent over the divorce papers, I’m only going back there if it’s to pick up those signed documents.” “Sounds about right,” Snorting, Yoongi wraps his arm around his shoulders. “You’ll finally be free from her? How do your parents feel about letting you loose?” “I haven’t told them yet,” Taehyung looks away from Yoongi, gesturing to start walking to work. “I’m pretty sure they’ll disown me. Anyway, enough of that, ready for a good night?” “Sure, we’ll talk about it later," Yoongi sips his own coffee. "I’m more than ready for a good shift actually. I've slept for 12 hours. Had to lecture the new guppies about social hierarchy yesterday, I swear they get loopy when they have rotations at Forest Lake. What are they putting in the water that makes them dumb?” “I don't know, whatever you’re drinking,” Biting into his pastry, Taehyung smiles wickedly at the blonde boy as he marches down the clean white hallway towards the Orthopaedic medical doctors office.

* * *

They stand in the office, preparing to do rounds on the ward. Taehyung’s looking at the list of patients he needs to visit experiencing post-operative delirium and constipation. He has students working with him tonight and Taehyung was fully prepared to dump his workload on them for “experience”.

Yoongi is signing discharge letters for patients leaving in the morning, writing prescriptions for pain relief and documenting orders for the morning nurses. The ward was quiet this evening, leaving a settled and peaceful evening for the nurses on shift but Taehyung wasn’t about to use the ‘q’ word in front of them.

“Shall we see our patients now?” Taehyung smiles, grouping up his 6 tired orienting medical students. “Why are you looking at me like that guys? Doctors rounds are fun and educational.”

“At this time?” One of his students snort laughs. “Not on this ward, it’s just old people-

-shut up Taemin,” a short girl says, she crosses her hands over here chest, rolling her eyes at the boy as she does. “You’re being disrespectful. Dr. Taehyung, please lets visit our patients. Quicker we can do this, quicker we can go home,” Younggi smiles up at him, “And I’d personally really love to see their progress.”

“Jesus Christ,” Yoongi curses under his breath. "Fucking brown noser."

The student ignores Yoongi as she stares back down at her black leather loathers.

“Every patient is your grandmother, try to think like that,” Hitting the top of Taemin’s head with his clipboard, Taehyung instructs a third student to push the trolley of patient files with them as all 6 students follow him down the ward hallway. Taehyung discards his coffee in the rubbish bin on the way. “Okay, because I know you all want to go home and sleep, let’s work in a team. Sound good?”

They all smile. Walking over to the trolley, he gives each of them a patient file. “What do you want us to do with these?”

“There’s six of you, pair up,” he says, watching them look at each other in confusion. “One of you will be assessing and the other will be scribing. You have two patients each, remember to switch.”

Taehyung folds his arms over his chest, they all look at him scared. “Oh come on, when my best friend in med school was in third year, below all of you, she was diagnosing aneurysms and scrubbing in on operations and you guys can barely talk to a patient without crawling in on yourselves. Get a grip, all of you.”

“But ...without you?” Taemin asks. “Can we do that?”

“I’ve worked with all six of you this month. Closely and together as a group. You’ve all grown so much and I believe that you all will make exceptional doctors. Believe in yourselves?” he says, watching them all smile, “So, look at the patient files for five minutes before going in, be polite and think before you speak. If you can't answer their questions, use your confidence and come and get me. I hope that doesn't actually happen though because you all should know the answers. Go on now.”

They all smile at him, clearly happy with the assignment.

“God, Taehyung,” Yoongi groans from behind him. “You still do that? You treat them like babies. That's why they get dumb.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes as he watches the students head off to their retrospective patients. He’d given them all stable patients who had questions regarding the postoperative process. Nothing they can’t answer but it was always a confidence booster for his students and he loved seeing them go home happy.

“Yoongi, this is why I am the educator on this ward and you’re an asshole,” Taehyung picks out the last couple of folders before walking into the 4 patient room, handing one to Yoongi.

Yoongi sanitises his hands, pulling out his favourite black pen before following him in into the cubical.

Yoongi watches Taehyung sweeten up to the old lady covered in a mountain of blankets as he reads over her notes. “It’s lovely to see you again Dr. Taehyung, how are you?” she smiles, gazing up at Taehyung like he was the sun and she was the moon. Yoongi watches his little hands rub up and down on her purple, green and pink crochet blanket on top of her. “I’m better now that I have seen you,” he winks and she laughs softly. “I’m here to talk to you about your bowels. The nurses tell me you haven’t moved your bowels since the operation three days ago.” “Ooh my dear, a lady never does number 2 and tells,” She widens her eyes at him. “But yes, I have not. Those wicked nurses have been trying to get me out of bed, I’m just too old for this, doctor. It hurts too much.” Taehyung sits on her bed, cupping her hands. “They’re doing that for you. Exercise is good for recovery, especially since you’ve had a hip replacement. Quicker you’re up, quicker you can go home and be with your kittens.” “Oh is it?” she opens her mouth in a little ‘o’ that makes Taehyung giggle. "My kittens, oh I miss them terribly so." “Do you usually take medication for your bowels?” he asks and she shakes her head. “How about we try some?” She frowns. “I’m not taking any more of your pills doctor. I'm quite content with my remedies but the nurses won't let me take my herbal remedies and rubbing crystals. What can I do?” “Some of your remedies can have a dangerous effect on the medication we give you here, that’s why you can’t take them,” Unwrapping his stethoscope from around his neck, he smiles softly. “What about kiwifruit?" "What about kiwifruit?" “Kiwicrush. It’s a little shot of kiwifruit that helps you move your bowels, it's like a natural remedy, I assure you that it tastes very good,” he informs her, she nods hesitantly. “I’m going to listen to your stomach now, my stethoscope is a bit cold so don't be surprised okay?" "Okay," She nods again. "I'll try the fruit doctor." "Good, Yoongi please make a note of that," Placing the diaphragm of his stethoscope on her abdomen, he listens for any present bowel sounds. Yoongi draws a little picture of abdomen in her files as he examines her, watching Taehyung’s face for an answer. Taehyung frowns, shaking his head for Yoongi. Yoongi then draws a cross through it. Yoongi writes the prescription in her drug chart for kiwicrush and signs her notes before closing them and slipping out of the cubical to tend to the last patient in the room for him. “Everything okay?” she asks, a worried expression drawn across her face. “You frowned, am I dying?” “Oh don’t be silly,” Clasping her hands again, he smiles tenderly. “It’s just that I am a bit worried about your bowels at the moment, and getting you up seems to be the best option right now. I’m going to ask the nurses to give you some pain relief before getting you up tomorrow morning, just so it’s a little easier for you and then, I’m going to ask you to give it your best shot. Mobilising will be very good for your stomach Maurine.” “You sound like the nurse,” She laughs, smacking the top of his warm hand. “I’ll try for you. So, please, call me mama. I’m too damn old to be called anything else.” Standing up, he lifts the blankets up to her shoulders, making sure her toes are covered the way he knows she likes. He turns off the overhead light, leaving a small night light on for her. “Alright mama, you have a pleasant sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” She hums her response as she turns her attention to the window beside her. She stares at the moon with a gaze he can only describe as suddenly haunting as the soft hues of light accentuate an unspoken fear drawn across her face, something Taehyung feels uncomfortable about. “What are you staring at mama?” he whispers, following her gaze out the window. "Are you okay?" "I am okay for now," Standing by the window, he presses his hand to the cold surface as he feels the wind brush against the surface underneath his palm. She laughs softly under her breath from behind him. “It’s a full moon. The wolves are out howling for blood. I’d be careful on such an auspicious night Dr. Taehyung, who knows what might happen.” He turns back to her. “It’s always an auspicious night when one is in a hospital mama, anything could happen here too.” Leaving her cubicle, he pushes the hand sanitiser on the wall into his palm, rubbing the dollop into his hands as he walks down the hallway. “You know, the other patients call her a witch,” Yoongi says, walking beside him with the trolley, patient file on top as he hurries with writing the last note. “Her notes say that she chants under her breath at people, gave me the shivers reading it but you seem close with her, so good for you. If you get hexed, let me know.” “You shouldn’t talk about people like that Yoongi,” Taehyung laughs, walking towards the nurses station. “You’ll be the one hexed. So, what was that patient's primary concern?”

Looking back at the notes, Yoongi says. “Another patient needing laxatives. Typical for this ward. I don’t know why you don’t just prescribe laxatives post operatively anyway. Saves so much time.” Taehyung shrugs, leaning against the station. “I would if it were me doing it. It’s Dr. Minho. He thinks the best laxative is water and exercise.” Yoongi snorts. “He sounds out of touch with real patients.” “He’s a good doctor Yoongi.” “We’re all good doctors until we’re proven that we are not.” Settling in the nurses station, Yoongi starts nibbling at the cake the nurses left out, as Taehyung leans against the station. It was dark, the nurses had turned off the hallway lights so patients could settle to bed. The nurses station was empty as nurses eat their dinner in the fishbowl behind it. Their laughter flutters nicely out from their office into the long empty hallways. Taehyung’s ward was the only department in the hospital who did night doctors rounds. It was the only department in a rush to discharge people, shift them back home for recovery and it was good for student practice. “Dr Minho’s on tonight, floating between orthopaedics and urology by the way. You in ED tonight?” Taehyung asks, “I hear it’s been really busy down there.” “I’m the floater tonight,” Yoongi shakes his head. “We’ve got too many staff on down there. Too many damn know-it-all students too.” "Isn't that good though for the acuity?" he asks and Yoongi rolls his eyes. Looking over Taehyung’s shoulder, Yoongi sighs. "Speaking of the devils." The first lot of students walk towards Taehyung, file outstretched waiting for his signature to co-sign. “Younggi,” Taehyung says, reading over her exceptional penmanship. “Next time, just draw the lungs if you assess them. What is your plan? What do you want the nurses to do?” She smiles, looking at her partner. “Regular repositioning in bed, PRN asthma medications when symptomatic and lots of pillows for comfort.” "As if they aren't doing that already," Yoongi snorts behind Taehyung. "Your kids need to spend a week with the nurses, that'll make ‘em work." All the students arrive back and Taehyung reads through their notes, signing his name at the bottom. Congratulating them on their first lot of assessments. “Now, that is how we’ll do our night rounds from now on. In the morning however, it will be different. I will be assessing your assessment skills on morning ward rounds. One at a time, in front of all of us." They all groan. “Oh shut up, if you don’t like it, drop out,” Yoongi cackles, “You with the orange hair, put the folders back in the office and if you groan again, I’ll steal the muffin I saw in your backpack you had on earlier.”

Taemin, the boy with the orange hair, disappears to do so. "God," Taehyung says, yawning into the crook of his arm, "Why is it so settled tonight?" Yoongi laughs. "Trying to avoid the q word?"

"What's the q word?" a student asks. Know it all Younggi fills her in. "It means quiet, he's asking why it's so quiet tonight." Taehyung sinks against the station, dropping his head onto his hands, a loud groan falling from his lips as Yoongi leans up and smacks his head. "You didn't tell your stupid fucking kids not to say that word did you? Great." "Did I say something wrong Dr. Taehyung?" she asks, insecurity suddenly plaguing her usually confident demeanor. Taehyung stands up, turning to face her. "That word is a cursed word. We don't use it here."

"Oh. I'm sorry?" Re-emerging with his phone in his hand, Taehyung gasps loudly as Taemin walks towards him, face focused on his phone. He was 100% against students using phones on the ward at all times, often challenging them to stay engaged. “Taemin, you know the rules, I don't like phones on the ward- -you're gonna wanna hear this though. A code black has been triggered at Forest Lakes Hospital,” he looks up at the two senior doctors, suddenly pale faced. “My girlfriend’s a nurse there and she’s just texted me “FLH called a code black, it's not a drill, I am fine.” oh god.” "What's a code black?" one of the students asks much to the chagrin of the other students. "That some sort of medical emergency alarm bell?" Taehyung and Yoongi trade vacant looks. “What?” “It’s probably just a drill,” Yoongi says, picking his nails. “They always do them over there. They’re close to a military camp, lots of North Korean defectors get treated there. A code black is a bomb threat kids."

Taemin looks up at Yoongi. “With all due respect, there is no way in hell that this is a drill. Look,” Turning his phone screen to Taehyung, a picture of ambulances rushing patients out, all wearing equally terrified facial expressions as they pile in the back of the trucks. “They’re evacuating people.”

“Are you sure you aren’t being pranked?” Younggi asks, hovering over his phone to check. Taehyung watches her double tap the picture, her face suddenly growing pale.

“Doesn’t look like a prank does it?” Taemin whispers and they all watch her retreat back as she shakes her head.

And then, all of their phones vibrate, pinging with texts, tweets and calls.

All 8 of them, pull out their phones.

Yoongi and Taehyung’s pagers go off. Ward phones start ringing. Grabbing his phone out of his coat pocket, Taehyung opens the first notification on the screen and the picture makes his heart stop; a wing of the hospital was on fire. A wing of your hospital was on fire. “Dr. Yoongi,” a nurse runs out, all the nurses following behind her. “Did you check your pager? Am I calling it in?” “Call it in please. Get your manager to remove all the patients in this ward. Orthopaedics is the mass casualty ward for this hospital kids. Whoever is the ward co-ordinator tonight in the nursing team, call all the other nurses, get them to come in immediately and cancel every single elective operation scheduled for tomorrow,” Yoongi says, reading his pager. "I want this ward cleared of patients within half an hour. I assume from the distance, patients will be arriving soon. So, let's do this quickly and properly according to your emergency protocol." “Why do we need to remove all the patients?” a student asks and Yoongi frowns at him. “Victims do better psychologically and physiologically where other victims are. Hence, why we need to get everyone out now and get the ward prepared for incoming patients.” “How many do you think we will get?” he asks again, his eyes widening in fear. Looking up to all the students and nurses pooling out from their office. Taehyung's hands suddenly begin to tremble by his side. “In this case, probably a lot.” “But you never know.” His heart begins to pound harshly against his ribs. Adrenaline surged down his body at the prospect of all those incoming patients; at the thought of you being in that building. “Text your families that you're okay.” Yoongi announces, pulling him out of his thoughts. Putting his pager in his pocket. Looking up to each and every nervous face in front of him, he grabs the department phone, immediately pressing the emergency number and holding it up to his ear. His hands are shaking but the only one who notices is Taehyung as a voice loudly screams into the receiver. Everyone in the room watches Yoongi's eyes widen and his head nod before hanging up again. "Fuck, it's real. All of you go, get ready. Remove these patients and clear this fucking ward right fucking now." "What about us?" Younggi asks, as the ward lights turn back on and nurses begin to frantically run around them. "What do we do?" “Text your families right now, none of you are going home tonight." ↣ FOREST LAKES HOSPITAL | Dr. Y/N The first blast hit the far west side of the hospital, where the VIP recovery ward was located, as you had run back into the dark and desolate, abandoned looking Emergency Department. You could smell the fire, you could even see it’s smoke boil up from the building in the northern windows of the ER. You ran harder. You were panting, completely solely running on adrenaline.

Your heart raced out of your skin as you looked in every room. In every bay. In every office. You were running completely on instinct and your instincts were telling you, someone was left behind. And you don’t leave people behind. No, not you. The force of the blast rumbled the entire floor, it was weak, a warning of what was yet to come and had you not been standing by an empty bed, it would have knocked you clean off your feet. Falling onto the white bed, plaster from the ceiling fell and the room seeped into darkness as the electricity completely cut out. No generator back up or anything provided you with a light to see in the dark either.

You coughed into your hand as you inhaled the plaster.

“Hello, is anybody here?” you had screamed, coughing as you run through the hallway you’ve memorised by heart. “We don’t have much time, is anyone here?”

A voice muffled behind a door screams loud and clear out for you as they bang their fists on the hard wood. “PLEASE SOMEONE, I’M STILL IN HERE!” You were right. "HELP ME, I’M STILL HERE, OH GOD I’M STILL IN HERE, HELP ME PLEASE! DON’T LEAVE ME!” Running down another hall, you hear a terrified scream from behind the controlled drug room. Someone remained like you had thought, banging on the door for their dear life. The door shook from the sheer force of their desperation to get out but the lock made it impossible to break free. “I’m still here,” they sobbed, banging on the other side of the door, “Please save me.” You don’t think as you run towards it, punching in the code for the room and forcing the door open with all of your might. The doctor on the other side had tears down his face, falling straight into you. It was Jungkook. Idiot doctor and housemate, your Jungkook. "Y/N," he sobbed, looking completely broken. "I thought I was going to die." “Well, I’m glad you’re alive and all but we need to go, right now." He looked distraught and terrified, but of all, he looked relieved. Grabbing his hand, you run with every inch of strength you can muster out, of that goddamn building. He holds your hand tightly, practically dragging you as he runs faster, jumping over shattered glass and plaster.

You hold images of Sunny in your mind as you pick your feet up. You hold the sound of her laughter and her cries, her singing, her screaming. You think of Taehyung, his smile, his embrace, his warmth. You think of a life you still think you can have. You think of punching Taehyung in the jaw when you see him next, you couldn’t die today knowing you haven’t. No, not today satan.

You run towards the clearing. And the automatic doors... ...they don't open. “What the fuck, why won’t they open?” you ask, waving your hand up to the monitor. “Fuck, I thought these would open in an emergency?” Jungkook bangs against the glass. Jimin and Seokjin look up, prompted by the loud banging. Ramming his shoulder into the glass, it doesn't budge. He throws everything close to him at the doors, again, it doesn't budge. They’re stuck. Irene holds back the boys from running over to help you. They had parked on the far end of the carpark to be safe as they waited. You both stare at the red lights of the ambulance in the night. “We need something heavy to smash it.” you say, “We’ll get out, don’t worry.” “How can I not fucking worry?” Jungkook shouts, throwing himself at the glass doors. “It’s just fucking glass, why won’t it break?” “It’s shatterproof material Jungkook.” Looking for an emergency button on the doors and falling short, “I’m going to find the emergency axe thing Jungkook, keep trying to pry it open okay?”

You were certain that there was an emergency axe somewhere, you had seen it before and wondered if you'd ever need to use it and for what. Slipping on blood, you fall to the floor as the ground continues to shake beneath you. "Where is it, come on Y/N, think." Getting up again, you run to the hallway leading off to the operating theatres and that's where you find the axe, contained in a glass box, nailed to the wall by a fire extinguisher. Punching the glass, it's splinters piercing your knuckles, you grab the axe. You were certain that when this adrenaline stops fuelling your attempts to survive, everything is going to hurt. But you don't have time to think about that as you run back. Jungkook's running into the doors, kicking and screaming at it, continuously bruising his shoulder. “I’m not dying in this fucking building.” "Jungkook," you shout, he turns, eyes glinting in happiness at the sight of the axe. "I have no strength, you smash it." He takes it happily, immediately hacking at the door. "I need to get out." he chants, each time the axe hits the doors. "I'm not dying today." The axe cracks the glass but it doesn't shatter like you thought it would. He hits it again and again, only cracking it. “What the hell is this fucking thing made of?” "Jungkook," Turning to survey your area, you grab anything hard enough to throw through the glass. "Jungkook, move out of the way." "What?" He turns, watching you throw a vital signs machine straight into the cracked glass with a strength you didn’t think you had, shattering it completely. He watches in slow motion as the glass shatters and falls to the linoleum floor. He screams happily as he throws the axe into the reception to their left. He grabs your hand as you run over the ocean of glass pooling onto the sidewalk as you both run into the carpark. The ambulance was so close, yet so far away. The fresh air hits your lungs as you breath it in and then out. You were free. You would be okay too.

Jungkook turns to you, smiling widely at you. “I’m free!” "Kim Seokjin! Park Jimin!" you scream, running towards them, "Open the back doors!" But they never hear you, and that you are grateful for because what happens next would've definitely hurt him too.

The second blast hit as you were running out of the building with Jeon Jungkook. The force of this blast, much bigger than the first, had thrown you in the air and onto the soft grass by the car park, metres away from the now swaying ambulance, winding you. Jungkook had fallen onto the hard concrete pavement of the carpark beside you, hands falling on shards of broken glass, blood dripping from his forehead. He screams in agony, feeling the bone of his arm break and tear through his skin on impact. Black coloured smoke rushes out of the burning building, covering you and Jungkook in a cloak of silent darkness. It chokes you, filling your lungs with it’s painful toxin as you try to breathe. Jungkook looks at you, expression pleading, lips moving to form words you can’t understand. Everything is blurry and dark and deep and your falling into yourself as black spots fill your visual field. You can’t hear anything but a loud ringing in your ears, you can hear the faint scream of Jungkook at the back of your brain but you can't process what he's saying. He looks at you desperately, is he hurt? That's a stupid question. You know you should get up but you feel compressed, stuck to the ground, and you can’t breathe, feeling winded as though your lungs had lost their ability to take in oxygen. You try to get up, falling back to the ground. Were you hurt too? You look over to Jungkook again, watching him battle his demons, forcing himself to get up and to you. You watch as if it were in slow motion as Jungkook pulls himself up, rushing over to you as he cradles his left arm in his now dirty white coat. There’s a god awful whirlpool of horror in his brown eyes as he runs over to you, you may have saved him but he definitely earned it because he saves you right back. You pull yourself up as much as you can before his arm wraps around your waist, holding you up as you both run to the ambulance. You look back at the building, still standing with flames and smoke boiling out the windows. You knew it wouldn’t last long until it collapsed or forced to the ground by another and much larger explosion. You didn’t want to be here for that. Blood dripped from your ears and down the sides of your soot covered face, building materials you couldn’t identify laced through your hair, shards of glass embedded into the skin of your arms. You felt like you had been punched in every soft part of your body. Jungkook looked equally as dishevelled. Waving you both over, Jimin and Irene rush you both into the back as Seokjin revved the engine. Minutes pass of complete silence as you rush. Isn’t that weird, after something so huge, there was just silence? No piercing screams, no sirens, no pleas for help, just fire, fear and silence. Pulling themselves in first, Irene and Jimin sit opposite each other, strapping themselves in. The third blast hit when you were trying to close the doors behind you. The blast wave hit the truck, pushing you into the back of the truck, shattering the windows, prompting Seokjin’s immediate acceleration as Jungkook toppled straight on top of you.

The glass from the window narrowly missed the intubated patient on a stroller in the middle of the ambulance, but it cuts across Irene's cheek, something she'll probably need stitches for. She wails in agony, holding a hand against her cheek, immediately applying pressure to the wound as dark red blood dripped down her neck and onto her scrubs.

Jungkook was afraid of letting you go, and for that, he saved you again. The doors slapped against the sides of the ambulance as Jin speed through the carpark and as far away from the hospital as he could. You wrap your arms around Jungkook’s waist tightly as he held onto anything that would keep you both in the ambulance as it sped away. His dead arm curled up painfully against your chest underneath him as Jin's abrupt driving makes you swing underneath him towards the other side of the truck causing shards of glass to tear through your coat as you do. You scream in agony, feeling the shards slice and embed into the flesh of your ass. It’s sweltering, a burning pain filling you by waves as it rolls over you, over and over again. You were hurt everywhere.

"Are you okay Y/N?" Jimin shouts at you. You clasp onto Jungkook tighter, eyebrows flexed as pain tears through your body. “Hold onto him, we’ll get you out of here!” Jungkook sobs, wailing in pure agony. The sound breaks Jimin as he watches, the once strong Jungkook, completely break and fall apart. "It's collapsing!" Irene shouts and you all look back to watch in horror as the sound of destruction echoes across the night sky. "The hospital. Our homes. You guys could've ...that was so close." she sobs loudly, feeling the horror of what could've been you two so deeply into her bones. “Drive faster,” Jimin screams, hitting the back of the front seat. Jungkook and Irene watch the orange flames burst from black clouds of smoke, as the hospital collapses from the emergency exit they just left, “Drive fucking faster Seokjin!” He presses his foot on the accelerator with sirens blasting and red lights flashing through the graphite night as he zips away. “I’m driving as fast as I fucking can!” Irene screams when he skids around a corner, her head hitting the wall hard as he drives straight through the car park entrance sign. The sound was like nothing she had ever heard before when she looks to her right, the once dark night now full of orange light as the fire boils and consumes her home away from home. It was haunting, something Irene would never forget.

They had only just gotten away from the building in time when fire began to rain down onto the trees, there would no doubt be a forest fire too. Everyone would be working overtime tonight. “Irene, are you okay?” Jimin asked, watching her rub the back of her head. She pulls her hand back, fingers covered in blood. Grabbing one of the only packets of gauze from beside him, he clears his throat. “Hold these to your head and hold on tight to your chair okay? We’re going to be fine.” She pants, biting her bottom lip. “Are you sure?” Jimin looks at everyone in the ambulance, he doesn't think he should dignify that question with a response, you were all safe now. “Go, Seokjin! Get us out of here!” Jungkook yelled, as he sunk his head into the crevice of your neck. “Get us to the hospital!” How you both hadn’t died was a mystery. Irene and Jimin pull you both further in by the collars of your coats, dragging your glass covered bodies further into the ambulance when Jin drives over a bridge, forced to slow down. "Irene, grab Jungkook," Jimin says, watching her pull Jungkook up beside her, strapping him into the seat. Pulling you up, he forces you into the seat beside him as he sobs. "Y/N, I've got you. You're okay now, you're okay now." He holds you close, telling you something you can’t hear but he's crying and he's crying hard. He looks like a wreck.

Holding your hands up to his checks, you wipe away his tears only to smear blood and soot across his face, he leans into your warmth. At least the sentiment was there. “Jimin, I have no idea what you are saying,” you think you shout, dropping your hands and leaning against him. The blood dripping down your right ear stains his green scrubs. “The barotrauma ...I think I have a ruptured eardrum in my right ear. Left feels like it’s resolving. I can only just hear you kind of.” He nods, red eyes sweep over yours. “I’m very glad you’re safe” he mouths and you smile softly up at him, glad you are too. Jimin hands you a bottle of water as he pulls out the first aid kit to attend to the cuts on your face. "Call Yoongi, tell him you're okay. I know he's probably worried." Jimin smiles, lips quivering. "I did, he was scared, still is I bet. The phone cut out during the second explosion, I'm just going to have to wait to see him at the hospital." "What? I can't hear you? Did you call him? yes or no?” Jimin nods, gesturing for you to drink the water. You looked worse for wear with your bloodied and blackened white coat; ripped, crimson stained scrubs; messy hair tied in a loose ponytail; and soot covered face but you were okay. You were feeling okayish. Drinking the water, you sag against him. Jimin dabs your fingers, brushing his fingers over your pulse, completely thankful you still had one. You look out the ambulance window to see your hospital, the once tall white and green structure, up in flames. All those years of hardwork, patients you’ve saved, lives you’ve lost, friends you’ve made, memories you’ve cherished. All gone. Seemingly in the blink of an eye.

You suddenly want to cry.

Today wasn’t a normal day at all. As you drink the last of your water, you feel your left ear pop and then you hear the unmistakable sound of the ambulances sirens and Irene shouting at Jungkook and Jimin shouting at Seokjin to update the hospital. You could hear and you wish you couldn't. Everything happened at a lightening speed, as though it all occurred within the single blink of your eyes. Seokjin pulls out the radio, bringing it to his lips as he speeds through the intersection, sirens blazing. “Seoul Hearts hospital, this is Ambulance 22 Kim Seokjin speaking. We are currently enroute to your facility with a 32 y/o male motor vehicle accident victim from Forest Lakes. Patient is unconscious, intubated and-

-yes, we came from Forest Lakes," he stops, listening attentively to the voice on the other end that you can't quite hear. "Mass casualties ...how many have you already got?" "32?!" he shouts, "We'll you're about to get three more- He then scoffs into the radio. “Don’t interrupt me. I have nurses Park Jimin and Bae Irene, Drs. Jeon Jungkook and Y/N who are injured- “Yes, I know the hospital has just blown up, I’m looking at it in my rearview mirror right now, we have two injured doctors in the back of the ambulance as well! Possible internal trauma, possible broken extremities,” he snaps, frustration ebbed into his voice, “We are unable to take current accurate vital signs of the patient and the doctors but our patient is unstable as hell. I'll update you if things change. See you in 5 minutes.”

He slams the radio back down. “Buckle up kids, we’re driving through the city now. Y/N,” Seokjin shouts from the front, “You good?” You nod, feeling your hearing fully come back in your left ear. “I think so?” "Good, you crazy fucking bitch, don’t you ever fucking do that again or I’ll cut your legs off." You're all staring out the back of the ambulance, watching the reactions of the public move out the way for Jin and gape at the very mangled up looking ambulance. It's almost a spiritual experience being in this position, having people responsibly move out of the way for you as you zip impossibly fast through red lights and traffic. "How's the patient doing?" you turn and ask Jimin, who had been watching you the entire time. His face pale. "What’s his vitals looking like?" "What?" Jimin shakes his head, forcing himself back into reality. "Um, I haven't checked. Hold on." You watch his heart monitor, the vital sign of life beat after beat after beat. You frown at a particular beat as it moves. "His hearts not looking too good," you point out. "It's not often but his hearts skipping a couple beats." "After everything, I would expect that too. We're just lucky he hasn't got a serious cardiac illness otherwise, he's fucked." Jimin says, shifting beside you. You watch him try to breathe. It was an insidious reminder of your responsibility to save this man. He was dangling by threads, he was so close to death. You look away from the numbers on his screen. You stare at your soot covered hands. That could’ve been you. “Seokjin,” you shout, “How far away are we from Seoul Hearts?” “A couple of minutes,” he shouts back at you, “You don’t need to shout at me you know!”

“I can’t hear anything well,” you say, pointing to your ear and the dried blood around it. “I think the blast burst my right eardrum.” Irene laughs suddenly, smacking her thigh. “I hate to laugh but consider yourself lucky it was just that. When you ran back in, I didn’t think we’d see you again. Jimin ...he-” “I thought I lost you,” Jimin interrupts, not wanting to relive those moments of his life. “You’re stupid but you’re incredibly brave saving Jungkook like that. How did you even know he was in there?” “I had a feeling someone was still in there, that’s just it,” you nod, looking over to Jungkook. The boy looked frightened as hell. “He would’ve saved me too, that’s for sure.” Jungkook stays silent, eyes wide as he tenses his jaw. You watch him cradle his arm, was he hurt? Jimin looks at him, shaking his head. “She saved your life Jungkook, you could’ve died back there. Why do you consistently and constantly go against your superiors instructions? What is wrong with you- -I got locked in the drug room!” he shouts back at Jimin, “It locked behind me when Namjoon asked me to clear it, she only found me because I was screaming for my fucking life. You think I don’t already know that I could’ve died back there, I know okay! I know it very well. I called my parents while I was holding a vial of fucking ketamine, I apologised for being a shit, I told them that I was locked in a room and that I was going to die. You think I wanted to hear my mother cry?” “Jungkook,” Jimin musters, unsure what to say, “I’m sorry, I- “-I was going to swallow it, you know. With the first sign of fire, I was going to kill myself. My girlfriend ...all I could tell her was that I was sorry that I loved her… I could’ve died back there, I could’ve seriously died back there.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. "But you didn't because she ran back- -and saved my life." Jungkook finishes. “Oh shut up both of you,” Irene shouts, “Pick up your damn phone and tell your family, you didn’t die already. Who knows what they’re doing thinking you’re dead. Hell, if I loved you, I would be driving out here right now to try and get you out.” “Seokjin,” You ignore their discussion as you gaze back at your patient. “Are we close?” “I’m driving as fast as I can with my sirens on, Y/N,” he shouts back clearly agitated, “Just focus on monitoring your patient. And Jimin, shut up and please Irene, fucking deal with Jungkook’s arm instead of pissing him off. It looks bent as fuck from the rear-view mirror. The kid is obviously hurt psychologically and physically, stop being assholes and be compassionate.” “You’re hurt?” Irene gasps, her voice now dripping in sympathy. Her bloodied fingers reach out for him. He lets her tender touch explore the mangled arm from underneath his coat. “It’s broken. How did this happen?” You snort. “Besides the hospital blowing up and the waves that were emitted from the explosion travelling at a supersonic velocity straight through us, throwing us in the air with all that glass and onto hard concrete and debris?” “I fell on it,” he says, watching Irene open up the bag on the floor. She nods her head. “You hurt anywhere else?” He shakes his head, letting her dab the wounds on his face with saline and gauze. It’s quiet again as she works his wounds, there’s not much she can do with his arm trapped in his coat like that, he’s just going to have to wait. Irene hands Jungkook her phone to call his family before finishing up on his wounds. Jungkook dabs her cheek with some gauze. Everyone was hurt in different ways but they were alive.

The ambulance grows silent when Jungkook sends the group text to his parents and to his girlfriend.

Jimin fusses over your knuckles, his mind on fire with residual grief and anger over your stupidity and bravery. But you were okay. For now.

* * *

Jungkook stares at the face of your patient.

He filters through the faces he knows, the patient’s he’s treated before leaning forward to look at his wrist band. “Oh it’s this guy, oh man, didn't think he'd come back,” he says, looking up at his cardiac monitor carefully, scrutinising every wave of his heart beats, “Y/N, are you aware that your patient has a past cardiac history?”

“Yes, angina pectoris,” You nod your head, pointing to his monitor as Jimin cleans your arms, “Are you worried about those PVC’s (heart skipping a beat) too? He's post motor vehicle accident, fucked himself up pretty bad. He needs surgery pretty much as soon as we get to Seoul Hearts.”

“Angina?” He frowns, prompting Irene to swap places with him beside the head of the patient. “He doesn’t have Angina, I have a photographic memory, I would’ve remembered that. He had an acute myocardial infarction a couple weeks ago and he hasn't been compliant with his medication-

-what!” you shout, interrupting him, commanding the attention of the truck as you dart your eyes into his. “This patient's had a heart attack before? That wasn’t in his medical files at all when he came in. That’s pretty fucking important information. Jimin,” you turn to the boy. “Did you get a history from the family?”

Jimin shakes his head. “Didn’t have time with the code. They still don't even know he's a patient.”

“I can see Seoul Hearts Hospital now, we’re about 2 minutes away.” Jin says, but you’re heart is racing hard against your ribs now. It’s like a dose of adrenaline and you suddenly feel so awake.

“If what I am thinking has happened, this patient probably crashed his car because he had chest pain. Irene,” your voice is shaky, everyone in the ambulance detects the urgency in your voice. You forget about the bomb. “Did you get any cardiac biomarkers from the bloods you took?”

“The ones that detect heart muscle death?” Her eyes widen as she tries to remember, clearly put on the spot as everyone looks at her. “Oh my god. I think so, like almost ...almost immediately but Dr. Namjoon came in before I got to ...I didn’t have time to check exactly.”

“What were they, do you remember? It’s okay, take your time. It’s important to remember which ones there were.”

She closes her eyes and Jungkook resets the vital monitor to get an accurate reading. “He’s hypotensive with ventricular dysrhythmia,” he says, printing the ECG out. He grabs the pen from his pocket as he reads the rhythm carefully. “Was it troponins T and I Irene? Do you remember a T?” She opens her eyes, pursing her lips at him. “I think it might’ve been but I don’t remember- -Y/N, his heart rate is 165, blood pressure is 80/40. I think he’s in cardiogenic shock,” Jimin cuts in. “Vitals are crashing.” "Good timing." you slap yourself.

“Fuck the bloods. Holy fuck,” Jungkook circles a portion of the rhythm, spotting an ST-elevation in the electrocardiogram (heart attack), holding it up to you as Seokjin drives. “He’s having a fucking heart attack right now Y/N.” “What do we do?” Irene asks. You look back at his cardiac monitor seeing it clear as day now that the patient's heart rhythm goes from erratic to nothing. "HES ARRESTING," Jimin shouts, pulling you out of your gaze. "He’s going into cardiac arrest Seokjin!!“ “This can’t be fucking happening right now. Jimin, we need the defibrillator he needs defibrillation immediately. We need an epi?! Wheres the adrenaline?” You shout, unsure if you could jump straight onto the patient with the door open like that. It looked dangerous. “The ambulance isn’t stocked, there isn’t one in here,” Seokjin shouts from the front, “You’re going to have to do chest compressions until we get there but fuck, it could be dangerous for you with the door open so be careful.” “I’ve got this,” You close your eyes. "I can save him." “Jimin, ambu bag, right now. Get on the resps." Without hesitation, you get out of your seat as Jin turns, to straddle the patient. Holding your arms straight, you press the heel of your palm on his lower sternum, compressing it in a steady rhythm with your interlocked hands, one on the other. You hear a couple cracks almost immediately. "Irene, are you sure we don’t have any adrenaline in that bag?” She tips the back out onto the seat looking for a little vial, it all flies out the ambulance anyway. “There’s no medication in here, so no we don’t.” Jimin gently squeezes the ambu bag twice. "We're nearly at the hospital, I can see it out the window now." “Beginning ...30 compressions to 2 breaths. Jimin watch me closely," you say, feeling your own heart rip through your ribcage. "Seokjin radio report change in status.” “Will do,” he shouts, pulling down the radio to call it in. “Hi, this is Seokjin, incoming ambulance from Forest Lakes we have a cardiac arrest in progress in the back of our truck, prepare for defibrillation on arrival in less than a minute.” “25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30. Resps!” Perspiration drips down your dirty face as you pause your chest compressions, turning to the two to the left of you. “Irene and Jungkook prepare to wheel me out of this ambulance and in to that fucking Emergency Department. No one is dying on my watch, not if I can help it.”

Jungkook and Irene look at each other as the ambulance comes to a halt outside the Emergency Department at Seoul Hearts Hospital. Turning off the engine, Jin runs around the truck, pulling down the ramp and grabbing the end of the stroller.

You can ear the screams of agony inside the Emergency Department from here as doctors rush in bright yellow aprons, blue gloves and white face masks towards your truck.

“Let’s go, get out Irene and Jungkook,” Seokjin yells, pulling the stroller towards him and down the ramp with Jimin shuttling beside it. “Let’s move team! Keep doing compressions Y/N and hold on tight.”

722 notes · View notes

huffle-dork · 6 years ago

Text

Fetch Quests (Part 1)

(More dark side rps with TeFA and @jurassicraptorcat)

TeFA’s body shoots awake, but finds her mind is not hers. Instead her body lets out a slow laugh, and Anibase finds herself in control. As she rises, struggling with her new body mass and height, a bruise forms all around her neck.

“Ha… ha… Hahaha!!! It's been TOO long!!” Her voice comes out pained and harsh, as if she had a terrible chest and throat cold. She feels along her neck and finds the pendant, lying ever so slightly below her collarbone. With a wicked grin she stumbles out of Juri’s room and finds a bathroom.

She looks into a mirror and sees herself in a dark gray t-shirt v-neck saying “Sleep More, Dream More,” to which makes Anibase chuckle. “Just gives me more time host…” She sees her wearing black, loose leggings and finally looks up at her face. And then the bang.

The stupid bang.

She takes a hairband on her right wrist and puts her bangs back behind her into a tiny ponytail, and watches as her right eye becomes familiar to her: the black sclera and purple-silver iris. She laughs again and stumbles out, then managing to control herself, finds her way to Ouros’ room. Crossing her arms and leaning against the side of the doorway, she beams, “Heyoooo~!”

Unreal is sitting on the floor of Juri’s room, absentmindedly playing with her ink and making shapes with them in the air a few inches off the ground. She turns and regards Anibase with a bored look.

“Well you sure took your time,” She yawns and leans back. “Then again, Lauren is too easy to influence some nights.” She grins wickedly.

Ouros sits over in the corner at a desk writing quickly onto her clipboard. She mutters calculations under her breath while ignoring the two in her room.

With a curse Ouros rips the paper off and tosses it behind her to hit Unreal in the head. She starts her calculations over with quick jerks of her pen.

Anibase rolls her eyes. “To be fair the last time I fully managed to take over was what… A year ago…? Although due to your stupid hosts she’s been able to be more happy enough and cling on longer.” She kicks the doorwall in frustration. “The stupid being who thinks she can get what she wants.” She then takes a seat on the floor next to Unreal, her arms still crossed, avoiding the now thrown balled-up piece of paper.

“You doing okay over there Amber?”

Unreal growls quietly under her breath after the paper ball skips across her head. She grabs a little bit of ink from the pile she’s playing with and lets it stretch across her finger. She flings the ink like a rubber band to the back of ouros’s neck with a snicker.

“Yo Hissy, we’re trying to talk to ya!”

Ouros pauses when the band of ink hits her neck before continuing to scribble furiously on her clipboard. “129 kilograms,” Ouros mutters while jotting it down. Finished with her calculations Ouros sets her pen and swiftly turns in her chair to glare at the two sitting on her floor.

“What,” She asks while crossing her arms.

Anibase shakes her head. “Nevermind on the ‘are you ok’ question. You said you can make us a body, but that's it. How exactly are you gonna be able to do that, and how much help do you need?”

“Do we have to kill somebody? Cuz that’ll be fun…” Unreal giggles madly.

Ouros stares at Unreal for a few seconds before slowly saying, “No. Really I need you to get me ingredients.”

She taps the list she wrote on her clipboard, “Very specific ingredients needed to create a human body from scratch.”

Anibase lies down on the floor and rubs at the swelling bruise on her neck. “Aw man, if we have to go shopping for this at like a grocery store or something I'm gonna hang myself.” Anibase groans like the child she is and then forces herself back up to a sitting position. “Alrighty, what do we need.”

Unreal scoffs and crosses her arms, “I don’t want to be some kind of errand girl! Besides… if anibase is right and we need to go out and collect stuff I’m kinda stuck. I’ll draw attention wherever I go,” she points to her dripping eyes and glitchy ink with a raised eyebrow.

“Unless you can find me 2.34 kilograms of Sulfur, 0.42 kilograms of Sodium, and 0.42 kilograms of Chlorine at your local grocery store you’ll likely have to end up stealing these items,” Ouros explains, “I have most of the simple ingredients besides pure oxygen.”

Ouros throws the list at Anibase with a flick of her wrist, “This is all that I need to make us bodies.”

Anibase catches the paper in the air and takes a look at it, crossing her legs. She mutters them to herself under her breath and then looks back up. “I am literally 9 or 10 years old how the heck am I supposed to know what this is.” She holds it out to Unreal if she wants to look at it. “Could we like, I dunno, extract this from food or something?”

Unreal squints at the paper and holds it close to her face, “what the fuck….”

She looks up at Ouros, “Where the hell would you even find this crap?! And it’s so precise like fuck man!”

Ouros rolls her eyes in exasperation, “Unreal I think you can go find a few of those items at any drugstore in their pill aisle. The rest I’ll have to steal from the local hospital,” Ouros looks pointedly at Anibase, “With some help.”

Anibase’s eyes perk up, then she smiles. “Hey you aren't looking at my host so no fear of sicknesses here.” She then claps her hands in excitement. “Ooh this'll be exciting! Sneaking around is too much fun.”

“Um hello??? Do you have your snakes stuffed up your ears?? How am I supposed to go get this shit from a drugstore when I look like this?!” Unreal points again at her face, “sure stealing fine but if anyone sees me all hell is gonna break loose!”

“Just say it’s part of a costume you’re wearing or something. I don’t care as long as you get the ingredients,” Ouros says.

Ouros tries to smile at Anibase and instead looks like she’s grimacing, “Hospitals you will find are quite easy to sneak through.”

Anibase puts her hand up firstly and says, “Ouros if smiling causes you pain you can stop.” She ends with a slight giggle then puts her hand down. “And hopefully they shall if I can still…” She tries to phase her one arm out of existence but finds it troubling. “Come on…” She grits her teeth and tries again, and it finally works, but it only lasts for a couple of seconds. “I'll… Get this working by the time we get there.”

Unreal crosses her arms and growls to herself, clearly not up for this little fetch mission. She groans and plops down on the ground, still crossing her arms.

“The subject appears reluctant,” Ouros mutters. She stands abruptly and disappears into a side door emerging a minute later with….something that may have once been human. It dangles from her hand looking like it’s either been flayed or dipped in acid multiple times. The thing moans until a shake from Ouros shuts it up.

“If you get all my ingredients on the list I offer up my least favorite experiment as a punching bag for you to do whatever you want with,” Ouros offers up. She’s read somewhere that offering treats helps to overcome reluctance. She may have read that on a puppy training website.

Anibase stares at the… experiment and finds herself grateful she isn't one of those… things. She stands up and stretches, looking down at Unreal awaiting her reaction.

Unreal recoils backwards and sits up quickly scooting backwards from whatever is dripping off that thing.

“Ouros,” she breathes, “what the actual fuck?!” She gives the other dark ego a wide eyed look of confusion, “I mean I like beating stuff up as much as the next guy but…. what the fuck….”

Ouros cocks her head, “Is this one not suitable? I have other failed experiments you could choose from if that is what you want.”

Ouros tosses the….thing back through the side door. There’s a low moan until Ouros whips her head to glare into the doorway. There’s a cracking sound, a shriek and then silence. Ouros nods, “I believe it better if you choose a different failure, this one is now broken.”

Anibase then lets out a suppressed laugh, followed by a snort, just due to how Ouros alone worded her phrase. She quickly recomposes herself and crosses her arms. “Well, are we gonna be here all night with you showing off your experiments or are we actually gonna grab this stuff tonight?”

“Hissy, I am perfectly okay with no experiments,” Unreal stands and shifts her jacket to let her ink breathe before cracking her neck loudly. “Guess I gotta drugstore to raid. Which ones are there???”

Ouros shrugs and closes the side door, “My host works at a Dollar general down the street. Try there first.” She grabs her medical coat from the corner to pull over her dark outfit. “If you can’t get precise amounts, which I hold no hope for you being able to do that, then just grab as much as you can and I’ll measure it out.”

Anibase starts tapping her foot impatiently. “Come on…! I don't know the area well you're gonna have to help me get to this hospital!” Anibase whines and starts kicking the floor with her exposed heel.

“Which ones do I get snake fuck???” Unreal growls, “stop freaking ignoring me!”

Ouros walks over and grabs the list, she circles Calcium, Potassium, and Magnesium on the list. “There you go...,” Ouros remembers from a “How to make Friends with your Coworkers” pamphlet that nicknames can help improve relationships, “...dear.”

She grabs a heavy bag off the ground and throws it at Anibase to catch. “Plan B is in that bag if your powers don’t work properly,” Ouros explains.

Anibase catches it and cocks her head at the bag, but then shrugs and puts it on. She fiddles with the butterfly hanging by its chain. “Alright, but question: where is it??? You have a map or something?”

Unreal gives Ouros another confused look then grunts in some sort of thankful way and pockets the list into her hoodie. She flips her hood over her head and wipes excess ink off her face with a wince.

“Alright you girls have fun,” Unreal says with a sarcastic finger wave and opens up the bedroom window and slips out into the night (YEET)

Ouros nodded as she adjusted her wrist cuffs. “The hospital is close by come along.” She leads Anibase down to the garage where there’s a silver car.

“Just hop in,” Ouros says as she clambers into the driver's seat and turns the car on.

Anibase looks over the car and nods to herself, impressed. “Nice ride!” She then opens up the door and slides in, closing it. She takes off the bag and sets it at her feet with a thud and buckles in. She rubs her neck where the bruise has seemed to get worse and lets out a hoarse cough into her elbow. “Ugh, sorry.” She mutters. “Now let's just hope that Inky knows what she's doing.”

Unreal pulls out Huffle’s phone and types in the drug store into the gps and starts walking that way. She grumbles about stupid air travel sadly missing her host’s beat up car back in Texas. She tilts her head at her phone and feels a slight glitch of power. She grins and hovers her hand over the phone and closes her eyes. In her head is a spark of light and see can see a small screen on inside the window of a store near the drug store in question. She looks up and sees the wires of the telephone poles above and grins more. She touches one of the wires and closes her eyes and disappears up the wire as red blue and green sparks.

“Buckle up,” Ouros reminds Anibase before she puts the car in reverse and peels out going 70 mph with a blank face. She hits the brakes right at the end of the driveway to spin out into the street while jerking the car into drive. The tires screech as she hits the gas before rocketing forward.

Ouros doesn’t even glance at the speedometer as it quickly climbs up. When she reaches a turn she barely slows down before taking a hard left that leaves the car on two wheels briefly. “Only a minute away,” Ouros informs Anibase.

“But I am buckled iN-” is all Anibase can say before the car zooms to life, and suddenly Anibase is gripping the sides of her chair to stabilize herself. Then she's grinning and pumping her hands up in excitement. “WOOO!!!” She yells in glee, before her hands hit the roof and she immediately retracts them.

When Ouros mentions how quickly they'll be arriving, Anibase nods. She tries testing phasing in and out again which manages to work now more quickly, but she’s still struggling. “Ugh, phasing physical matter is so much more difficult…”

The static on the tv in the store window suddenly fizzes into a burst of red green and blue sparks. A hand pops out of the tv before Unreal bursts out and splats against the glass window with a groan. She growls then lets her form dissolve into ink and squeezes out of the cracks of the window until she appears back on the sidewalk. She cracks her neck and looks over at the store eyeing the building to see if anyone is inside or not.

Ouros pulls into the back hospital parking lot with a screech and rolls into a parking with a jerk, going from 40 mph to 0 in a second. She steps out of the car and stretches. “That was my first time driving, what a leisurely experiment,” Ouros comments.

She looks over at Anibase and gestures, “Can you phase yet?”

Anibase steps out of the car and slams the door shut. “Lemme check.” She then focuses again on her one arm and tries one more time, which phases out perfectly. She beams and completely disappears and reappears right in front of Ouros. “Ding ding!” She giggles at her own joke and smiles. “Now… what do we get?”

Unreal pushes her face against the door into the darkened store and smirks slightly at the sight. It’s empty. She shifts back into ink and goes through the slit of the door and gathers back into her full form once she’s inside. The ink demon huddles her hands in her pockets and casually strolls around the store. She pauses when she sees a blinking red light in the ceiling. A security camera.

Unreal grins wolfishly and lets her eyes glow bright as she concentrates her glitchy energy and sees reflected in the glass a hint of her sparking energy and the red light dims. Satisfied Unreal finds the pills easily and scoops as much as she can fit in her hoodie. Once done she ventures to the back of the store and finds the office, A computer that’s fighting sleep mode has a typical screensaver playing and Unreal touches the screen before she’s sucked in and she heads back to Juris house.

“Oh good,” Ouros comments, “It was this or stuffing you into a Nurse’s uniform. Come along now, we just need pure oxygen, nitrogen and hydrogen.” Ouros strides away towards the hospital and approaches a side entrance. She pulls a stolen I.D. out and swipes it through the keylock and opens the door.

“We have around 6 minutes before they realize something is up so we’ll have to move fast,” Ouros begins walking quickly down the hallway until they reach a door.

She pauses, “This is where you come in. I can’t open the door and what we need is inside.”

Anibase nods and understands right away. She quietly cracks her knuckles and phases completely out. Then all of a sudden the door swings open from the other side, and she reappears. She waves a little “hello” and smiles. “After you Ms. Amber.”

Ouros strides in and makes for the locked cabinets in the back. She grabs the padlock and pulls while increasing gravity on it until it rips itself and the hinge off the cabinet. Inside is a couple hydrogen tanks. Ouros grabs two and decreases the weight on them before handing them to Anibase. A couple cabinets over they found the pure oxygen tanks. Ouros only grabbed one of them.

In the back was a freezer with a padlock. Ouros only glanced at it this time to rip it off. The door opened with a hiss and Ouros reached into the bag Anibase was still carrying to grab some heavy duty gloves.

“Liquid nitrogen,” Ouros whispered, “Is not something to mess with. Open the bag.”

Ouros grabbed a can of the liquid nitrogen and turned towards Anibase.

Anibase nodded and opened the bag. As curious as she was and wanting to ask why, she kept quiet and let Ouros do her thing. They couldn't afford to waste any time.

Ouros quickly settles the nitrogen into special blankets in the bag with care. “Our 6 minutes is up it’s time to go,” Ouros remarks even ask footsteps stomp down the hallway. Ouros’s eyes glow a brighter orange and things begin floating around them. Someone screams from down the hallway.

“Time to go.”

Anibase quickly zips the bag up and grabs Ouros’ arm. “Not needed.” She barely mutters as she phases out, including Ouros. Now there is no traces of them visually.

“As soon as I let go you’ll have to focus on keeping yourself invisible alright?” Anibase’s voice echoes in Ouros’ ears.

“Can do,” Ouros says. She keeps a corner of her mind set to thinking about staying invisible while they hurry out of the hospital.

The car is still in the parking spot and Ouros slides into the driver's seat with ease.

Anibase gets in and buckles herself right back in, gently putting the bag in the back. She phases back into reality and smiles all giddily, proud of herself, but also Ouros for managing to keep herself hidden. She hadn't tested making someone else invisible for a while. “Now let's get out of here!”

Ouros peels out of the parking lot doing 70 and hits the gas once they're heading towards Juri’s house. “You can phase other people,” Ouros mutters. She makes the mental note to add that to Anibase's chart. They pull into the driveway going 50 as Ouros hits the breaks.

Anibase shrugs. “Only if I choose to, it's not like I allow it to anybody.” Anibase steps out of the car and grabs the bag. She slams the door shut and walks back inside.

“Oh Inky~! We're home!!!” Anibase shouts in a sing-songy voice.

Unreal looks up from where she’s huddled on the floor watching videos on Huffle’s phone, the numerous pill bottles she stole littered on the ground.

“Well it’s about time! I was just thinking about falling asleep and leaving you guys with a very confused Lauren,” the ink demon pushes herself off the ground and eyes their spoils, “so I’m guessing you got all the shit then?”

“Now the fun begins,” Ouros takes the bag from Anibase and grabs the pill bottles off the floor. She kicks open the side door and enters.

Anibase sits back down next to the ink demon and smiles, “Yep! And it was super fun. Didn't get caught at all.” She rubs her neck again where the bruise seems to be getting worse. “Ugh, Amber better know what she's doing-” she's interrupted by a hoarse cough into her elbow, and her whole body shudders.

“You doing alright there kid?” Unreal asks, raising her eyebrow. She shifts and finally lowers her hood, easing herself by her elbows, “not that y’all will care but I didn’t get caught either. And learned some new tricks,” she grins wickedly.

“Don’t care at all,” Ouros called from the side room. She arranged everything before pulling out measuring instruments and a mortar and pestle to mash the pills. Before she began Ouros paused.

“Reward them when they do good,” Ouros whispered thinking back to the puppy training. Nodding she kicked her foot on the ground and Hyenas burst off her skin to rush out and swarm Anibase. With that done Ouros began measuring out the ingredients carefully.

Anibase slowly shakes her head no. Her voice comes out like jagged glass, sharp and rough, sounding incredibly sick. Her breathing becomes erratic, struggling against… something, she can't quite tell. She holds a hand to her chest. “I… I don't know what’s d3JvbmcuLi4=” The bruise swells even more with each word and she wants to collapse over.

But then the hyenas come over and her mind completely shuffles it’s attention to the puppos, and she curls her arms around them in quick hugs and starts petting them. “HehE… hA… h A h… R29vZCBkb2dnaWVzLi4u”

Unreal’s eye widen and she bends over Anibase and push the mutts out of the way. She actually looks concerned for once, instead of angry and detached.

“Shit, what’s wrong?!” She blinks as she notices the bruise on her neck, “Your neck…” She turns and calls over her shoulder, “Uh Ouros? Something is wrong with the kid!”

#unreal #anibase #ouros #dark side trio #lauren attempts to write with friends #roleplay #tefa #juri #the dark trio

6 notes · View notes

coeurdastronaute · 7 years ago

Text

Giant: Ch. 16

Be gentle with me I might not be ready I am learning to love I am learning to let myself be loved How did I miss this lesson when I was young?

The cover of CatCo magazine stared back at her in the waiting room of the federal jail. Kara squeezed her hand and flipped a page in her copy of the magazine, not trying to pay much attention to anything at all. Even though it was a few months old, it was still the newest magazine in the place, which was terrifying enough in its own right.

Entirely grey and void of any sort of emotion or joy, the waiting room was everything Lena imagined such places would be. The guard in the window looked at her from time to time, knowing exactly who she was and who she was going to see, knowing exactly what he had done and what he would love to do if given the chance. In this place, she was simply Lex’s sister, her own identity usurped.

“It’s going to be okay,” Kara reminded her girlfriend who just nodded and took a deep breath. “I really like this interview. You sound very hopeful. I really like this part about you blushing when you talk about your girlfriend.”

“Why does every interviewer feel the need to mention me blushing?” Lena groaned at the teasing.

“Because you keep blushing. You’re a powerful woman who gets bashful when she talks about kissing.”

“They always sideswipe me with questions about my personal life. I just wanted to talk about that giant ocean vaccuum that’s cleaning up the garbage pile out in the middle of the ocean. Do you know how long it took me to develop that?”

“Six years,” Kara answered, knowing full well the entire saga.

“Six years,” the CEO sighed, ignoring the correct answer.

There weren’t many tells to Lena Luthor. Kara knew them all though, memorized them. Her hands couldn’t sit still. Her words were agitated. Her jaw was tight. She wore exactly the same look as when Kara told her they had to talk about their relationship. Resigned torture.

With a small movement, Kara ducked her head and nudged her girlfriend’s shoulder with her forehead, earning a sigh and a kiss there. Nails slipped along her spine, absently scratching over her coat. For someone who was oblivious to how to have physical contact, it came almost so naturally to Lena, it was comical to the hero.

“It’s going to be okay, you know that right?” Kara stilled her girlfriend’s nervous hands. “Whatever happens, your personal life is going to be sitting right here when you come out of this meeting. Not one thing changes between us.”

“I know,” she nodded.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Me too.”

“Luthor?” the guard interrupted.

“It’s fine,” Lena said, kissing Kara’s cheek before she stood.

For the life of her, Kara didn’t know what to do, and so she sat there and watched Lena walk through the heavy metal doors. The magazine in her hands stared back at her as the real thing kept her chin up, like she was trained to do.

As soon as the door closed, Lena felt as if she was in a different world. It was quiet, silent, and she was stuck there, willing herself to walk back through the door and right out of the jail, never to return to that place ever again. The fear prickled up her spine though she swallowed and took another step.

“I have some forms I need you to fill out. Please place all loose items from your pockets and purse in the bin,” the guard explained, monotonous and well-rehearsed. “Nothing will be allowed into the room.”

Carefully, Lena took off her watch, took off her necklace, placed her earrings and purse in the bin. As she went through the forms, initialling and scanning and signing she felt alarmingly empty and bare, when all she wanted to do was protect herself from everything.

1,168 days she’d gone without seeing her brother. Her life was nothing like she would have imagined that many days ago, but here she was. All at once, at that thought, she got angry at the imposition of even having to be there at all, at even feeling anything for the monster that waited in her brother’s skin. After a thousand days, surely that was enough distance. Surely she was free.

“I gave my background check to the woman at the front office,” she furrowed as she skimmed over the forms on the clipboard.

“That’s alright. We’ll get it. Do you have any questions?”

“I’m not allowed to touch him?”

“This visitation will be done through glass. Everything is extra precautions for high profile inmates.”

“Oh. Okay,” she nodded, almost grateful that the option for a hug was taken away from her. She spent too long fixating on it herself.

“This is your first time?” the guard ventured.

“Yes. I didn’t know what to expect. I haven’t been able to come.”

“He doesn’t get any visitors. I think this is the first.”

With a small nod, Lena handed over the papers before assenting to a very thorough pat down, followed by a very invasive scan, followed by the metal detector. As long as it took, she wanted it to take longer, because she didn’t want to be in that room, to see her brother despite the kind words in his letter, despite the compulsion she felt when he used the guilt of their blood and duty and the words their parents raised them with, echoed throughout it.

No, Lena wanted to take her time, though she found no other way to do it. Instead, she stood in front of the larger, heavier metal door and swallowed though her throat was adamantly against that, and pushed through.

It was like seeing a ghost. Surely her face went pale at the sight of the man sitting behind the thick glass window waiting for her. The pale, bright orange of his jumpsuit was the only splash of color in the dreary room. His skin was so much whiter, so much more dangerously pallid than she could ever remember seeing anyone’s. For a second, she imagined him almost translucent.

But then she met his eyes, and she saw her brother, and it nearly knocked her down, though she fought it valiantly.

Lena was strong though, stronger than she thought or knew, and so she steeled herself and took the seat across from him at her own little window. Neither moved to pick up the phone just yet. Instead, they opted to stare at each other like they were looking at people they distantly remembered and were trying to place in their memories.

The clean shave of his head was freshly done. His shoulders seemed wider. There was a kind of hollow to his eyes that made the angles of his face sharper, more pointed. It was almost impossible to pull out the bits of her brother that she recognized from before, from when they were once related.

As Lena gazed at the stranger, she wondered for the briefest of moments what he saw in her, what parts he was wondering about, what parts he clung to, to locate them to each other. Self-consciously, she sat up a bit straighter.

When he moved to pick up the phone, she nearly jumped. But he smiled and nudged his head, reminding her to answer. There was this kindness in his eyes that most people wouldn’t think to see. It was the blue of her mother’s eyes that stared back at her, slightly amused.

“It’s been a while, Weenie,” he murmured, almost fondly.

“Don’t call me that,” she huffed, the words coming out so quickly, so naturally against the childhood nickname he’d saddled her with. The truth was, the name strangled her ears.

“You look good. You’ve grown up.”

“So have you.”

That was it. Less than twenty words and they were speechless. The image made Lena feel as if she were looking into a mirror, or worse yet, into her future. She tilted her chin up, hoping it would dispel that notion.

“I saw that article, about after that attack our father was allegedly involved in.”

“That he planned.”

“You annexed six small corporations under us.”

“Slowly but surely dismantling LCorp.”

“It took years for our family to accumulate that.” There was a bite behind his words.

“I’m into redistributing the wealth. I have more money than I could spend in six lifetimes,” she explained. “Did you invite me here to criticize my business sense?”

There was a small smile there as he shook his head. He looked like a bashful kid as opposed to the towering monster that she knew him to be. He was the person who beat up boys who made fun of her and bought her a car when she turned sixteen.

“You love that girl,” he stated. “The one from the picture. She loves you, too.”

“Kara.”

“I hadn’t heard anything about you in a long time. We don’t get much entertainment here,” he motioned around at the bleak walls. “But I saw that, and I was very happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

If anyone hadn’t known who he was, the moment would have seemed like a genuine, sibling interaction. And yet, Lena knew Lex, she thought she did, and as much as she wanted to take those words, she saw the meaning, she saw him pointing out that she had a weakness now, an exploitable, glaring weakness in her defenses. It wasn’t well wishes, it was a threat, masked in the upper class politeness they were bred to uphold despite all else.

“Have you heard from Dad?” He asked, changing his tactics.

“A few letters.”

“He’s planning something,” Lex explained. “I know that at the end of the day, your duty is to the name and the company. I just had to know if you’ve been helping him at all.”

“No.”

“No one is really listening, Lena, you can tell me.”

“No,” she repeated, sterner this time. “I’ve spent the past five years fixing what you two fucked up, fixing our name, dismissing all of the worry. And then he… he killed people, Lex. Innocent people. If I had finished lunch sooner, it would have been me walking past that corner.”

“We have to get rid of the aliens.”

“Mom died because he was dealing with unstable substances. It was his fault, and you know it.”

“I can hate him and still know that he was right. You can have hate and still be devoted to your family. That’s what family is, that is how we live, now.”

For a moment, Lena dropped the phone from her ear, shaking her head, her jaw sore and tight from all of the tensing at the words.

“Why did you write to me, Lex?” she finally breathed.

Outside, in the waiting room, Kara did her best not to listen. She succeeded pretty well, though something about Lena’s voice always called her attention. She struck up a conversation with the guard, reread the magazine article, though she’d almost memorized it well before that day.

It helped to focus on her heartbeat, to hear Lena’s pick up and flutter, to hear her take a deep breath to steady herself. It was a miracle she even asked Kara to come with her, and so she tried to not use her powers, but she couldn’t, because Lena was helpless and Lex was capable of so much more than most assumed.

“I wanted to tell you that I was proud of you for what you’ve done with the company,” he softened slightly. Mass murderer or not, it was still his kid sister across from him.

“Cut the shit.”

“I wouldn’t have done half of the things you’ve done. But Mom would be proud of you. Renewable energy, low emission public transit, drought resistant crops. It’s impressive. I think there might have even been a few of your own ideas I remember mocking thrown in.”

“I hate the business part. I just wanted a lab,” she reminded him.

“I know,” he smiled sadly, leaning forward so his elbows rested on the countertop. He couldn’t hold her eyes. “I’m sorry for that.”

“You’re not sorry.”

“I just said I was,” he disagreed.

“You’re sorry you’re in jail. Not for what you did to get in here,” she disagreed.

“Why did you come then?”

On a drunken dare, Lena considered coming. And at the wedding, she tried to fight against it, but after the toasts and the cutting of cake, when the night grew longer and the drinks flowed once more, Kara held out her hand and twirled her toward the dance floor. Right there, in the middle of all of those people and friends, with the brides laughing and closing their eyes as they tried to memorize that feeling, Lena kissed Kara’s cheek and earned a tired forehead against her temple and eventually her neck.

While they moved, she played with the loose bits of curls at the base of the hero’s neck that escaped from the floral arrangement she’d been sporting. Quiet and alone, they hummed along with the music and Kara whispered, out of nowhere and honestly relieved, that she loved Lena. It was quiet and honest. Lena smiled into Kara’s ear and inhaled the day. She told her that she was still the sun.

“To tell you that I’m out,” she smiled finally, the first time since she’d parked at the jail that morning. “I’m selling LCorp. I’ll be retaining the weapons and defense branches so that no one else can get their hands on that. But everything else will be broken down to the tiniest bits. I’ll sit on a thousand boards if I have to, but I won’t let this monster exist anymore.”

“You can’t.”

“I am,” she sat up a bit straighter. “I’m done being a Luthor. I’m done. I’m not doing it anymore. I’m not apologizing for you and Dad. I’m not holding myself at fault for your actions. Mom died, and you two just… I was hurt and you two thought you hurt worse.”

“Because we did!” he yelled. A guard tapped a warning on the table behind him, the nightstick rattling threateningly while the chains on Lex’s hands rattled and strained against the outburst. “We lost something. She picked you, but she was… ours. She was my mother.”

“I’m done with all of you,” Lena shook her head, still smiling. “I was just a kid. I was twenty years old. I haven’t been able to decide anything for myself. I’m done. I’m done being a Luthor. I thought if I came, I would feel different, that I was holding onto something. But it’s not there anymore. You left me. I never left you.”

“You can’t turn your back--”

“I am. I quit, Lex,” she laughed. “I quit. I have a new family. And one day I’m going to marry that girl, and we’re going to have a house with a huge yard and a dog with floppy ears. And there will be little kids who ask me if I had a family, and I’ll tell them I had a mother, and that was all.”

“You don’t get to--”

“And when they get older, they’ll ask about my Luthor past, and I’ll tell them that I was never a Luthor at heart. That their Uncle Lex is a sad, pitiful excuse of a man who spreads hate and I wanted nothing to do with it. That was why I agreed to come. To tell you this. To get out of this sick hold and debt I always felt.”

“Lena, this isn’t you.”

“Good luck, Lex. I hope you enjoy seventeen lifetimes in here.”

The phone kept talking as she pulled it away and hung it up finally. The man behind the window watched her, tried to stand, tried to get her attention. But Lena just sat there and watched. She swallowed the lump in her throat and placed her hand on the glass.

Startled, the man in the jumpsuit looked at it, looked back at her. He’d anticipated the tiny girl who was eager to be his family. He anticipated help with his plans. He anticipated so much that was not this.

As he slumped back into the chair, the guard behind the other window warning him once more, she watched her brother furrow.

With the tiniest of movements, he tensed and glanced and called over his shoulder. The guard came and took him. Lena let her hand drop and smiled to herself as she stood, wiping the tear that finally made its way down her cheek.

In the hall, she felt a thousand pounds lighter, she felt the expanse of hope open itself up to her. A blonde with alarmingly sincere blue eyes stood quickly at the sound of the door opening, waiting in all jitters as Lena put her necklace back on.

“Did you hear any of that?” Lena asked.

“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Kara murmured, sweeping her up into a huge hug. “Do you feel better?”

“Yes and no,” she mumbled, digging her nose into Kara’s shoulder.

Hands ran along her back, holding her close, keeping her safe. Kara swallowed her whole, kept her safe, kept her protected. Nothing really mattered save the feeling of the girl she loved in her arms.

“Let’s go home,” the hero whispered, kissing her temple.

Lena hid in Kara’s shoulder. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of her. The world was lighter now, was different after being set free by herself. All at once, she realized the words that she said to Lex were perhaps the most honest words she could have ever said. The only trouble spot was that she would now have to live with them, to fully commit to her future, to give up what held her down.

“I have a stop I want to make first.”

The choice was impossible, but still, Lena stood there and gazed at the cages while Kara fret nervously about taking advantage and still wanting a kitten very badly. Today was the day, and Lena wasn’t about to wait any longer. She was born anew and probably slightly bothered by the incidents with her brother, though she shrugged that away and righted herself.

The entire flight home, Lena refused to tell her girlfriend where they were stopping. It was the best surprise when the car pulled up to the shelter, and she led her inside without a word. Kara paced and kept quiet, working over all of the ways that this was the best and the worst moment of her life. But Lena walked casually along the aisles and she cooed as she wiggled her finger through the bars.

“Are you sure? You’re upset,” Kara tried again, though Lena just crossed her arms and stared at the animals.

Lena Luthor did not know how to have a pet, nor did she understand the logistics of it all, but she’d basically been in love with a giant puppy who needed lots of food, constant affection, and walked or she got bored and tore apart things. Surely a kitten wasn’t that much different.

And she did want it. She wanted to be someone who had a cat. She wanted to be someone who had things and made plans, and she sure as hell was never someone to back away from a challenge. This was the biggest challenge of her life, if she were being honest.

“I want a good life, Kara. And I want a kitten with you.”

“Listen, I don’t want to say no to a kitten, but you just met with Lex, and I’m sure--”

“I meant what I said,” Lena explained. “Plus, I was going to do this for your birthday.”

“Seriously?”

“Surprise. Today just feels like we both need it.”

“Seriously?”

With a shake of her head, Lena melted as Kara wrapped her arms around her, kissed her neck and held her there.

“Now how do we pick? I want them all.”

“It will pick us,” Kara explained seriously.

“Like you picked me?” she smiled with an arm around her shoulder.

“Exactly.”

When Kara moved in, Lena wasn’t ashamed to say that her apartment hadn’t felt like a home. It wasn’t until the hero starting leaving bits of herself all over it, started ordering nerdy science-themed pillows and hanging up picture frames that were filled with moments as opposed to pretentious art, that it felt more like a place where people lived than a month-to-month rental where people stayed and left little imprint of themselves upon it.

Before the reporter moved in, Lena never thought to have cozy blankets and lots of pillows on the couch. She didn’t care much about lighting candles or having a smell other than naturally clean. But now, those things just appeared and happened, and she fell in love with that feeling. Kara noticed it and felt a little proud of sparking a nesting period for her girlfriend.

It wasn’t unusual to find Lena at home anymore, wrapped up with a glass of wine and her tablet as she worked, nice and cozy on the couch. Kara actually enjoyed that. From in the hall, she smelled the candles burning, she smelled dinner, she smelled Lena’s perfume hidden beneath her old sweatshirt.

The last alien attack was all over the news. She knew Lena was listening to it, she knew she would be worried. But still, Kara allowed herself a few moments in the hall to listen and smell and watch the domesticity of her own little home. Super suit in the gym bag on her shoulder, her hair smelled like burnt tires, but she finally caught one, finally succeeded, and now she was going home. Home. Home the operative word that was everything now.

“Lena, honey, I thought we talked about this,” Kara finally made her way inside, dropping her bag on the floor.

Four little paws padded toward her, quickly jumping off of the bed it’d made on Lena’s chest. Just a year old, the cat was getting well used to its new home and owners. Kara picked up the little grey and white thing and rubbed an ear.

“He likes it.”

With a small tug, Kara freed the cat from his Kingsmont shirt, though the Supergirl collar remained, making her smile.

“There you go, buddy,” she cooed before depositing him back on Lena’s lap on the couch.

In just a movement, she leaned over and kissed her girlfriend sweetly, earning a scrunched up nose.

“You smell bad.”

“I caught this one. No explosion.”

“I saw. We’re proud of you, but please go shower before dinner,” Lena asked. “Darwin isn’t going to come back and cuddle with me until you leave.”

Sure enough, the cat was already stalking across the apartment toward the balcony at the imposition. Kara didn’t care. She kissed her girlfriend again, earning a smile.

“I asked Alex to forward you some samples. Thought you might not mind working with us on this if you’re not too busy.”

“What? You did?” she sat up eagerly as Kara shrugged and grinned, making her way down the hall. “Kara! Wait!”

There was no answer, and so Lena settled deeper into her cocoon, electing to switch the channel to something less gruesome than her girlfriend getting slammed on concrete repeatedly as she waited for an email about foreign alien tech that would be, if she knew Alex Danvers, well redacted and minimal at best, but still exciting.

By the time Kara made it back, she tugged her wet hair up into a bun and tugged the collar of Lena’s old soccer shirt before collapsing onto the couch. Lena lifted her legs and let Kara settle there.

There was a coyness between glances. Kara, hopped up on finally succeeding, and Lena, eager to help and be involved in alien sciences. The cat circled and decided on the leather chair in the corner that he’d slowly been claiming as his own.

“I ordered dinner,” Lena finally murmured.

Kara smiled and closed her eyes, sliding down until she collapsed against Lena’s hip, earning a light scratch there for her reward. Hands gently coaxed a hum from her scalp.

“I’m starving but I can’t move.”

“Is Alex really going to send me stuff?”

“I asked her to whenever she gets samples.”

“I love you so much.”

“Because I provide you with nerdy things.”

“Yeah.”

“Mmmm. I’m exhausted,” Kara yawned. “I haven’t slept in like two days.”

“Come here.”

It took a little more effort than she thought she had, but still, Kara slid along the back of the couch and settled atop her girlfriend, earning the blanket thrown around her. She hid in Lena’s neck, nuzzling there, unable to keep her eyes open.

There was a naturalness there, the movement itself, Lena’s soft nature, that lent itself to domesticity neither minded at all. This was her home and her place, they both thought as they pressed together and cuddled closer.

“You have to stop stealing my shampoo.”

“I ran out,” Kara defended herself weakly. “Saving the city didn’t leave me time to run errands.”

“Always with the excuses.”

It didn’t take any time at all for nails to rake up and down her back, for her shirt to be pulled up until it hung around her shoulders and for Lena to absently toy with the muscles and spine there, relaxing Kara to impossible ends.

She must have been tired, Lena decided as gentle breathing started to even out against her neck. Kara falling asleep before food was such a rarity, she wasn’t sure she could remember it happening in recent history.

From her tablet, Lena smiled and snapped a picture of the sleepy hero tucked under her chin. Quietly, she typed up a message and posted it, even though she was decidedly unglamorous and decidedly frumpy in her glasses and with no makeup and a raggedy sweatshirt peaking up from under the blanket.

Never one for being very personal in public, Lena kept a carefully crafted and elegant profile. Not one picture was grainy or remotely indicative of her life. Her at events, at galas, at initiatives, at press conferences, science things, announcements. Nothing fun or showing much of her personality outside of work.

Lena liked to take pictures though, and she always had. In high school, she filled up books with polaroids she took of everyone and everywhere. Neat little descriptions appeared on the bottom or back. Sometimes it was as simple as a few words describing what the world felt like to her at the moment. Her favorite sat on her desk in a little frame. When she was nineteen and Kara was kissing her cheek innocently. The words sunshine, pure sunshine were jotted quickly in a half-drunken scrawl.

There was a box under her bed of pictures. Nothing made it to the internet. Nothing made it to the world because Lena grew up with a box under her metaphorical bed, and that was how it always was. She was curated and never impetuous.

Kara, on the other hand, had ridiculous pictures of cheeks full of marshmallows and ice cream on her nose. Little goofy pictures of Lena even appeared, her watching sports and yelling at the television, them kissing in the park, her asleep with Darwin half on her face. It was a life. It felt homey like the couch with both of them on it felt homey in a way that Lena couldn’t remember feeling for so long.

Careful, so as not to wake Kara, she typed. Because Kara was right. It was their civic duty to be the hope, and it was her personal mission to be as anti-Luthor as possible, and that meant having emotions, that meant being… free. It’d been a learning experience, especially after her meeting with Lex, but Lena took up every challenge with vigor, and being human and happy was no different. She learned it took work to be happy. It wasn’t necessarily a natural trait, but a goal.

For a second, she looked at the picture of them on the couch and realized she’d found it.

When I was 17, a girl asked me for an interview about a soccer game for the school paper. We turned 18, and she was my best friend. At 19, my mom died, and that same girl fixed my hurting heart with her unbridled kindness. When I turned 21, my life was upside down, and even though she was the sun to me, I left. Tomorrow, it will be three years since she walked back into my life. Not one day has been the same, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. She’s my hero, my savior, my biggest love, my truest inspiration, my unrelenting support, and most importantly, still my best friend.

As soon as she posted it, she smiled to herself. Kara would never see it coming. She would never see the entire plan for their anniversary coming, either. But this time around, Lena felt different, felt eager, felt ready.

Gone was the weight of her family and their expectations. Gone was the guise to which she hid and locked so much away. Gone was the wall that kept her from being in love.

The notifications got muted once again. But the notification that came up was from Alex. They should have moved to the bed, but Lena was more excited for the results.

For three hours she sifted through the notes Alex forwarded. For three hours she had a sinking suspicion deep in her bones. She held a little tighter to her girlfriend at times while she compared LexCorp data with the findings the DEO sent.

“Mmm, what time is it?” Kara murmured sleepily.

“About four. Go back to sleep, love.”

“Did you get your science junk?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s go to bed,” Kara decided, pushing herself up slightly.

She managed to get off the couch and stretch, bending back and yawning. She was starving, but she was half asleep and couldn’t survive another two minutes without collapsing again. Her pillow didn’t move.

“Alien samples and nerding out with my sister will keep at least three hours,” she complained, stealing the tablet against her girlfriend’s wishes. “Come on, princess.”

“I’m not tired, Kara,” Lena pouted, proving her words false.

“I know, I know,” she tutted, lifting Lena robotically and tossing her over her shoulder. “Saving the world with your brain is hard, but you need to sleep.”

“Put me down!” she fought, swatting at her girlfriend’s ass as she felt herself tugged down the hall like she was dating a caveman.

With a small bend, Kara leaned over and gently placed the pouty CEO in bed. The tablet was far away, but Lena couldn’t stop thinking about what she thought she knew.

“I wasn’t done.”

“I know,” Kara nodded, not hearing anything. “But look at that. Here we are. In bed. We should sleep.”

“Just for a second.”

“That’s my girl,” the hero grinned, quickly sliding into the sheets and meeting the grump in the middle of their big bed.

Before she could settle, Lena grabbed at her shirt and yawned, falling asleep just as quick. The cat ran around the hall and living room as Kara yawned again and kissed her girlfriend’s forehead, smiling to herself.

169 notes · View notes

sincerelyhecate · 7 years ago

Text

a birthday (date) to remember

Title: A Birthday (Date) to Remember

Pairing: Jason Grace/Percy Jackson

Length: 3.3k words

Summary: Jason will not sulk if his boyfriend forgot his birthday. Nope. Percy thinks Jason's just cute. You can also read this on AO3 and FFNet.

Rating: General Audiences

Prompt: Day 6 - I Hate You, No You Don’t

Note: This self-indulgent fic is written for Jercy Week hosted by @imaginejercy. This work is also self-beta-ed, so all mistakes are totally mine. Given that I haven't posted anything for over a year, you can see that my writing is in decline lately, so I apologize in advanced.

Also, I had the idea to make this a birthday fic because I initially wanted to post something on Jason's birthday but I never got to do it. The WIP is still buried deep in my files. I am a mess. Happy belated birthday, Jason.

Jason was trying hard not to sulk.

Given that he was twenty-three years old (only since a few hours ago) and a full-fledged demigod, appointed Pontifex Maximus at 16 and defeated a titan at the tender age of 15, that was supposed to be easy. Turned out it wasn’t.

He wasn’t a little kid anymore. He knew that much. Yet his gut was wrenching with unease and his chest felt a little too tight, trying to fend off the frustration that was threatening to spoil his day. All because of the way his boyfriend seemed to be forgetting his birthday.

Yep, it was the 1st of July, the day Jason came into this world, courtesy of his father’s overactive sex drive and his mother’s capability of falling for the same mistake twice. It’s not like he wasn’t supposed to be born, per se, it’s more to the fact that he had a pitiable childhood to begin with that highly implicate the former suggestion.

The past was not important. He knew that much. He supposed his thoughts have been in the negative because he had been looking forward to this day so much since the past week, ready to be basked in love and happiness by his loved ones, only to have Percy answering “Friday. Why?” when he, as absentmindedly as possible, asked his boyfriend what day it was that day.

Frowning, Jason sipped his coffee half-heartedly as he watched Percy slowly flipping pancakes in the sizzling pan, adorably yawning as he blinked the remainder of his sleep away. On Jason’s last birthday, Percy had woken him up with a breakfast in bed and lots of kisses that still sent his stomach fluttering whenever he remembered. The year before that, he was brought in by their friends for a surprise picnic at the strawberry fields, Percy trying (and failing miserably) to sing him a love serenade while a hysterical Piper played the guitar as she tried (and failed miserably) not to cackle with laughter.

His boyfriend is silly and lovable and all kinds of amazing. Whenever he was focused onto something that’ll make Jason happy, he strived to make it perfect just so he could kiss that smile off Jason’s lips. He made Jason felt wanted and appreciated, something he could never imagine before he met with the seven.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he was being spoilt too much. Life before the war with Gaea and her giants was a life he hardly wanted to remember, raised by wolves and trained by the legion to be a child soldier. The moment he met his family, his real family with Thalia and Percy and the rest of his amazing friends, life could’ve never been more rewarding. He spent his 17th birthday with an actual celebration for the first time, paper crown on his head and a cake (spiked with candles! Mortals are weird) and lots of hugs and kisses and lots of confetti and presents. He never had one when he was still a praetor; his life back then was just filled with training and battling and serving the Roman legion.

He was never one to be familiar with the way the world work beyond the camps and their little flat he and Percy shared together. Perhaps they stopped celebrating birthdays the moment you grew up into an adult? That couldn’t be it, he’s an adult for five years now. Or could it be that Percy and their friends had only kept on celebrating his birthday to make up for the ones he missed during his childhood? That seemed to be likely, and they’re probably stopping soon since he had a lot of birthday parties already, and Jason’s limbs suddenly felt like lead.

He didn’t want them to stop.

He’s being ridiculous, he knew, yet he couldn’t stop the nausea in the pit of his stomach at the idea of his birthdays ceasing to be celebrated. Jason felt like laughing, albeit bitterly, at himself. Him, Jason Grace, a natural leader, stoic and capable and completely mature, was about to lose his head over something as stupid as birthday parties.

“Jason? You’ve been staring over your mug for the past ten minutes.”

Percy’s concerned voice fortunately managed to stop his ridiculous train of thoughts from heading towards wherever ridiculous place it was going. He started with a little jerk, chuckling slightly as he worked for a smile on his sullen face. “Nothing.”

Making a thoughtful face, Percy hummed softly as he pushed a plate of blue pancakes into Jason’s direction. “Eat up, we have a lot to do today.”

“We do?” He absolutely hated how relieved he felt then, feeling the warmth seeping back his insides. Perhaps they didn’t forget—

“Of course! The new temple wouldn’t finish by itself without us, and Reyna needed our help dealing with the minor god, remember?” The tone of his voice was amused, somewhat. Probably at how Jason’s shoulders significantly dropped after hearing him speak. Percy chided gently, “I’m done eating my breakfast and you barely finished half your coffee, let alone eating yours. Cheer up.”

He pecked Jason’s temple. Somehow, the weight on Jason’s shoulders lifted a bit. Percy’s kisses do wonders, and they’re his absolute favorites.

“This day will be over before you know it.”

Oh. Ouch.

He’s lying if it didn’t hurt a bit, but Jason steeled his resolve. Least of all things, he shouldn’t be petty over these kind of matters today of all days. He’s not a kid and he’s not going to act like one. Jason Grace, son of Jupiter aka Olympus’ big boss, is a responsible adult.

“Okay.”

xxx

“Wow, you look cheerful.” Piper jested good-naturedly as she walked alongside Jason on their break, intending to head over for lunch together. New Rome was gloomy under the darkened sky, mirroring how Jason felt on the inside. He shrugged, eyes scanning over the small copy of blueprint on the clipboard Annabeth gave him while his mind barely registered anything he was reading. Aware at the lack of answer, Piper halted on her tracks and grabbed Jason’s arm to stop him as well.

“What is it, Pipes?” Jason tried to look at anywhere but Piper’s face. He knew that as soon as he saw Piper’s expression, he’ll be compelled to spill his guts, and he’s interested in anything but that.

“Spill.”

She’s scary, Jason thought as Piper effortlessly read through him. One would expect that from the daughter of Aphrodite, an undeniable expert in feelings and emotions. But of course, no way in Hades would he actually confide in her over this stupid anxiety. Because it’s what it was: stupid.

“Um, there’s nothing to spill?” Jason chuckled as he tried feigning nonchalance, but even he knew how unconvincing he looked while saying that. Piper’s eyes narrowed, her kaleidoscopic irises turning a tad darker. Jason could’ve sworn he would actually let all of his worries tumble off his mouth and embarrass himself in the process, or Piper would just charmspeak him into it, because she looked like she was about to do so.

Oh, no. He would rather jump into a river than having to complain to his friends that they’re forgetting his birthday like a 5-year-old.

“Uh, do you know what day it is today?” He decided to divert the subject, and the first thing that popped into his mind was that stupid question. This birthday thing was driving him insane. Piper looked slightly taken aback before cautiously answered, “It’s Friday. Why?”

Jason’s heart squeezed painfully at her reply. Not Piper too.

“O – Oh.” His voice actually cracked for a bit, and he absolutely hated it. Hated himself for actually caring a little too much about this. Hated his anxiety for feeling like he lost something so wonderful, which he actually did, but he’s not mulling over that too.

Piper looked confused at his reaction. Her worried expression deepened as she reached for him, her eyes searching his face as she contemplated on her next course of action. Jason gave her a smile, intending to brush her off. He needed time alone.

He could celebrate his birthday alone. No one would care, right? (Or no one actually cared.)

Piper suddenly smiled knowingly, as if some revelation had dawned on her. “Well, if you’re talking about tomorrow— “

“Uh, could you go ahead without me? Um. Bathroom.”

“Wait, Jason!” He ignored her, regretting this childish act he did on a whim as he strode past her. He heard a distant voice that sounded vaguely like Annabeth’s calling Piper’s name, and using that as a distraction, he walked faster around the corner of a building, intending to lose her. He wasn’t stopped, so he guessed that worked.

He’s a twenty-three years old adult, and he was behaving like this. Slowing down, Jason came to a stop near a pole and sat down, feeling ashamed for treating his best friend like that.

Piper wouldn’t let him get away with it, though. He knew that much.

xxx

“Hey.” Percy’s gentle voice greeted him, their shared bed creaking lightly as Jason felt Percy’s weight dipping the mattress. He kept his eyes closed, praying that sleep would come faster. Vaguely registering his boyfriend’s arm wrapping loosely around his waist, there was a pang in his gut as he felt Percy’s firm chest pressed close to his back. Percy loved being the little spoon, but as soon as he discovered whenever Jason feels sad or moody, he’ll wrap himself around his boyfriend like a protective monkey, and Jason would be damned if he was not aching for Percy’s touch all day.

It was so sweet a gesture that made him realized how much he loved this exasperating boy, all to the point of heartache. He’d never trade Percy for someone else, and if that made him like a child, he couldn’t care less.

“You looked a bit off this entire day and everyone was worried,” Percy whispered into his hair. “I was worried. And before anything, I hope you don’t feel bad at all about that, since it’s our job to be worried for you.”

Yes, they’re always looking out for each other. That’s the thing Jason loved so much about them. He almost hummed in reply before he stopped himself, remembering that he was supposed to be sleeping.

“I thought you needed space, since you looked so lost and bothered. We haven’t kissed at all for today,” to that, Jason felt his fist tightened around the fabric of the duvet. He missed Percy’s lips, “but I could wait a little longer if you need to.

“It’s a big day tomorrow,” Saturday? “so I hope you’re resting plenty.” Percy’s voice had gotten a bit smaller, or was it just Jason falling asleep? “If you want to, you can talk to me about everything later. I miss your cute laugh and your smooches, and I really miss you mostly. The happy you.

“Because when you’re happy,” Percy chuckled, although a little sheepishly, “I can stay rest assured that you’re happy to be with me. Hm. I’d like to believe you do.”

There was some kind of insecurity in his boyfriend’s raspy voice as he said that, clearing his throat awkwardly, and Jason was just. Floored. Over the fact that indeed, there was no denying it, that Percy has worries if Jason ever felt unhappy being with him. The hesitance when he paused to speak was evident enough.

Jason was stunned, all thoughts of sleeping fading away. A bit flabbergasted, too. But mostly he felt mortified over the mere notion that Percy would even thought Jason could feel unhappy with him. The idea was so absurd that Jason felt a little bit foolish to be anxious over a single birthday missed.

Percy love him beyond that. A birthday is a just another day of the week. The most important thing is that Percy was always there for him, and he was there for Percy. Both had their hearts broken before, both ended up together because they realized they needed each other. Jason felt like smacking himself for being so stupid. To have such ridiculous idea planted into Percy’s head was not on Jason’s plan in becoming his boyfriend.

Steeling himself (he was pretending to sleep after all), Jason turned around and buried his face into Percy’s warm chest. He waited for a reaction. His boyfriend seemed to be a bit surprised at the sudden movement, and as Jason felt his cheeks heating up from embarrassment, Percy just tightened his arms around him.

xxx

Jason woke up to a kiss on his neck. The mattress was dipped slightly farther to Jason’s left, so he could’ve guessed that Percy was sitting up at the edge of the bed, his figure probably looming over him as he watched Jason sleep.

Another kiss, this time on his nose. While his brain was still sluggish from his sleep-induced stupor, Jason barely heard a huff of laughter, and a whisper of, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

He hummed, no intention in getting out of bed for today. He slept peacefully in Percy’s arms, but being anxious over nothing yesterday had been so draining, he wanted to lie down all day. With Percy, preferably, enjoying the warm sunlight filtering through their window, and the smell of brownies and coffee…

Wait.

Jason cracked his eyes open. There his boyfriend was, his breath fanning over Jason’s face as he stared into Jason’s eyes, foreheads just an inch away from touching each other.

“Hi,” Percy greeted, huffing a smile before withdrawing to sit up straight, looking very much comfortable in a baby blue sweatshirt and bed hair, his lovely sea-green eyes twinkling as he watched Jason slowly came to wakefulness. There was a tray on the bedside drawer, and Percy drew a mug from it before passing it to Jason.

“Um, what’s this for?” His insides twitched a bit as he asked the question innocently. His mind was in the gutter, tangled of emotions like relief that of course, of course he wouldn’t forget his birthday, and apprehensiveness that told him not to get his hopes up. Jason’s tired eyes cleared up as he rose to a sitting position.

“Did you forget? Today’s your birthday, silly,” Percy sniggered, brushing their noses together. “Happy birthday, you big dork.”

For the first time that day, Jason knew that the smile he’s sporting on his own face was genuine. He’s so happy that all of his stupid worries faded away like wispy clouds on a bright day, so pleased that he didn’t care if Percy was one day late. Everyone makes blunders (Percy does them on a daily basis), and Jason was always ready to forgive him, like what he’s about to do now.

“I was thinking of making it a tradition,” Percy was speaking, a huge grin on his face, “making breakfast in bed and spoiling the heck outta you.”

“You’re a day late, though” Jason teased, wearing an exaggerated pout on his lips. Percy raised his eyebrows and checked his wristwatch.

“What are you talking about, Jason? Today is the first of July. Here.” Percy turned his wrist so that Jason could see the face of the watch. It revealed the number ‘1’ in a tiny square that indicated the date of the day, emphasizing that Percy had been right.

Huh.

Jason froze up, a bit stupefied at the revelation. Slowly, he could feel his blush blooming from his cheeks all down to his neck, resisting the urge to bury himself in his pillow as he looked at Percy struggling to contain his laughter. So much for the angst yesterday, and it was just for nothing. Turned out the one who blundered was not Percy but him, for a change.

Percy’s voice was trembling as he tried to keep the laughter in. “What are you so shocked about, your eyes are getting real huge just now.”

Jason was so, so stupid.

“I just realized how dumb I was being.”

“Hm?” His boyfriend wrapped an arm around him, eyes bright with mirth as he said, “I thought I’m supposed to be the dumb one in this relationship?”

“Give yourself more credit, you’re smarter than you look.” Jason paused, hesitating the urge to tell, to whine to Percy about everything. But then this was Percy. He gave in, his voice a tad too small than he intended it to be. “I thought you forgot.”

“Hey, you should be giving me more credit,” Percy accused in a playful tone. “I’ve been waiting the whole week for today, okay? I endured Annabeth pestering me about work, the unfinished temple, you being down yesterday, looking like I’ve forgotten about your birthday…”

An awkward silence.

“… wait.”

Jason was sure his face was giving him away. He turned his puppy eyes mode on. Like, full hard mode on, bracing himself as Percy opened his mouth, because nothing good would be coming out of it.

“You are such a baby.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my gods, that’s why you were so quiet! You looked like your soul has taken a trip to the underworld, and now I realised it was because you were sulking. Hah!” There was no stopping him now. Percy threw his head back dramatically before cracking up in hideous cackles. Jason was positive he was beet-red now, shoulders drawn in to his ears as he sipped his coffee quietly.

“You’re so cute. Gods. Can you be any cuter?” Percy wrapped himself around Jason, mimicking to bite his skin before laying his head on Jason’s bare shoulder.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He made a show of sipping his coffee loudly, trying to pretend he didn’t hear Percy, because of course, he loved Percy so much to even consider denying him.

Shoulders still shaking from unabashed laughter, Percy took the tray from the drawer before placing it on Jason’s lap. There were pancakes drenched in syrup and swirls of cream, a plate of home-made brownies decorated with blue icing, a jar of strawberry preserves, and several slabs of toast. Jason felt full just looking at the hearty meal.

“Eat up, hot stuff, we have lots to do today.”

“We do?”

Percy looked at him, unimpressed. Jason watched on as he pulled his sleeves up his veiny arms as if he was preparing for a speech. It was his favorite look on him; Percy had mentioned that the sweatshirt reminded him of Jason’s pretty blue eyes. “I made a schedule today. Breakfast, and then off to a surprise birthday bash with the lot– “

“Not a surprise anymore,” Jason chuckled.

“Hush, you. Next is the aquarium, then we’re gonna hit up dinner at my mom’s house because she told me to bring you over so that she can fuss over you too, and then we’ll end our night with a romantic surprise by yours truly.” His boyfriend raised a suggestive eyebrow in an attempt to be sexy.

(And he actually was. Jason was tempted to kiss that smirk off his smug face.)

Nodding slowly, Jason swiped a finger over the pancake and sucked the cream off. Tasty. Percy was a great cook, but right now, he didn’t feel like eating. Putting the tray away, he ignored Percy’s questioning face as he buried his face at the crook of his boyfriend’s neck, relishing the soft thudding pulse against his cheek.

“I’m sorry I was acting miserable.”

He felt Percy’s lips kissing his hair.

“Don’t apologize. Happens to the best of us. I know how much you love birthdays, Jason. I love it too. You look so ridiculously happy every time we celebrate yours, like full on glowing, so I never wanted the day to end.”

Jason hummed. His joy was pure and unadulterated; his breathing was coming in short puffs. “Happy Jason is back now, treat him well.”

“Aye-aye, captain.”

“Can we lie down for a moment? I want to be alone with you just a little longer.”

“Sure thing. I can squeeze some smooching time in today’s schedule before we head out.”

Jason giggled, feeling like a schoolboy with a crush. He couldn’t complain to that. After all, Percy’s kisses were his absolute favorites.

#jercy #jason grace #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #imaginejercy #jercy week #key writes #birthday fic #3.3k #THIS IS SO SELF INDULGENT #SORRY IF IT SUCKED SO BAD #there were times i was happy with this and times i actually cringed #this is so late forgive me #i haven't written anything for so long

123 notes · View notes

just-jordie-things · 8 years ago

Text

Like She’s Mine (part two) - Stiles Stilinski

part one here

warnings: swearing, teen pregnancy, mentions of sex

I was sitting in Lydia’s room, going through her magazines in the hunt of what’s in for the summer. Rompers, short styled overalls, and suspenders with skirts and tee shirts were the majority of what I came up with.

It was an early morning for teenagers on a saturday Allison Lydia and I had thrown a sleepover the night before. Mostly laughing about the party Lydia had nearly three weeks ago. More so how Allison and I didn’t remember the majority of it.

“Yeah yeah, we’re kinda lightweights” Allison said, rolling her eyes.

“We? I drank more than you did Alli. You are the lightweight around here” I said, causing Lydia to snort. Which only made us all laugh more. I fell back on the bed, in an uncontrollable fit of giggles while Allison began to hit me with a pillow.

“You’re mean!” She said, laughing as she attacked me.

“Stop it!” I squealed. “Stop! Sto-” I gagged suddenly, my hands flying from my stomach to my mouth. I scrambled off the bed, feeling bile rise in the back of my throat. Allison called my name in concern, Lydia trailing behind me as I rushed to the bathroom, but i slammed the door shut, hacking into the toilet as soon as I lifted the lid. I hurled and heaved, trying to catch my breath.

“Hey, hey y/n?” Lydia knocked softly, before opening the door. She came up next to me, kneeling right behind me and pulling my hair back as I released the last of my stomach’s contents.

“I’m sorry” Allison said from the doorway. I hastily pulled out the roll of toilet paper, ripping off some and wiping my mouth before throwing it into the toilet and flushing.

“It’s okay, I just haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday so it just caught up to me when we were fooling around” I said, turning on the sink as Lydia continued to caress your back. Allison looked guilty, but didn’t say anything else. I rinsed my mouth out thoroughly, swishing, spitting, repeat. “I’ll be fine, seriously, the feeling passed” I said with a smile. Even though my stomach said otherwise.

“You sure?” Allison asked, not fully believing me.

“I’m sure. Now come on, we gotta be at Lou’s in half an hour, and I look like shit.

Roll montage of the three of us packing up our things and getting changed while singing and dancing around to the radio.

Lydia pulled up by the storefront, and Allison and I grabbed our bags. She’d driven us to work, seeing that she’d picked us up for the sleepover.

“You girls have a nice day!” Lydia called with a slight laugh as she waved a hand out the window. I waved back as Allison blew a kiss. Lydia drove off after that, rolling up her window and probably playing the music she liked rather what Allison and I forced her to play.

I unlocked the door, letting Allison in first. We made our way to the back room, where our employee lockers were. Allison didn’t have a lock on hers, the girl trusted everybody. But I had one. I sat on the floor, back against the metal doors as she put her overnight bag into the locker, and pulled out her working apron. Filling the pockets with sample packets of flower seeds, a spray bottle of water, one of plant growth fluid, as well as a rag because she hated dirt.

“You sure you’re okay hon?” She asked in worry, and I nodded again. I watched as she tied a neat bow behind her back. Then finally made myself stand and get ready for the day. Saturday was our busiest days of the week. Sometimes friday nights, lovers coming in to get flowers for their loved ones.

Allison had made her way out to the cash register. She was probably sitting on the stool while texting Scott. Which was usually how she passed free time when there was no customers. I finished putting my bag away and tying on my apron, and dragged myself out of the back room. Grabbing the inventory clipboard off of the counter Allison was at, the only counter actually, I made my rounds through the small shop. Literally anywhere I walked, she could see me.

“So has Theo talked to you at all?” She asked, slipping her phone into an empty pocket of her apron.

“Why do you ask?” I questioned, making a check mark next to aster.

“I don’t know… you talked about him half the year, then you guys finally get together and you drop him completely”

“Well I wasn’t exactly looking for a boyfriend…” I trailed, giving Allison raised brows. She shrugged her shoulders.

“Have you talked since school ended? We were there for a week after the party” Allison asked. “Or at graduation?” I shook my head again.

“Nope. He was the perfect one night stand. In where you don’t mention it happened at all” Allison made a ‘huh’ sound.

I figured she didn’t understand the concept completely, she’d confided in me that Scott was her first serious boyfriend. That he’d taken her virginity (and she his) and that he’s all she’d ever wanted. So I didn’t expect her to really understand that sometimes you just need a good time, with the promise of no commitment, and secrecy. Secrecy was loosely used though. Inner circle friends knew, but not the whole school kind of thing.

“Stiles must be happy about that” Allison commented. “He hated Theo”

“I know” I responded, making another check next to callas. A personal favorite of mine. I always thought they’d look beautiful in a brides hands. I didn’t say anything else to Allison, writing a note that we needed more tulips.

“I’m sorry if I upset you-”

“Alli, if you apologize to me one more time today, then you will be the one puking” She laughed, and the rest of the day was breezy.

Customers were more on the lag side today, just a few people. I always liked when a man came in around six thirty, getting a collection of roses in his work clothes. Made me happy to know there were still decent men in the world.

Scott picked Allison up at the end of her shift, which was around four. So it was just me here for the next three hours. I sat at the cash register with a book and an apple. I’d greet a customer when they’d come in, offer help, which most declined, and sat contently on that stool. Around 6:45, my phone rang. The best picture I have of Stiles popping up. The one where he was laughing and fell off the couch onto the coffee table, completely sprawled on it.

“Hey what’s up?” I said when I answered.

“Need a ride home?” He asked, and I sighed in relief.

“Thank god, yes” He chuckled.

“Why didn’t you just ask?” He said, and I heard the engine of his jeep turning on.

“I didn’t want to sound pushy” I replied, to which he laughed again.

“Alright, well I’ll be there in ten, have you eaten?”

“Nope”

“Good, we’re getting chinese takeout cause I’m craving it” Wow he was right that sounded really good.

“Okay sounds good, see you soon”

“Bye” I hung up the phone and set it on the counter. The store was empty, so I decided to just close up shop and flip the open sign to closed. Then made my way to the employee room to take off my apron and collect my things.

It wasn’t a long wait for Stiles, I just sat on my phone scrolling through pictures of vacations, pregnancy test ads, videos of my OTP, anything to keep my mind occupied from my growling stomach. God I needed sesame chicken. As soon as I saw the headlights of the jeep pulling in, I grabbed my things, and rushed out the door, making sure to shut off the lights and lock the door. Stiles didn’t even have time to open his door, as I was already in the passenger seat and throwing my bag to the floor.

“Hi there” Stiles said with a laugh while I buckled in.

“Hi” He replied with a big grin. “Come on, what’re ya waiting for? I want food!” I exclaimed.

“You sure chineses is okay?” He asked, driving out of the lot. “Lydia told me you got really sick this morning”

“I’m fine, chinese sounds great” I said, waving my hand dismissively.

“She said you threw up y/n-” Stiles said with a look.

“It was just cause we were messing around and my stomach was pretty much empty is all, I’m fine now” I told him. He licked his lips, a sign that he was debating on whether or not he believed me. “Stiles I swear it, okay? I’m fine”

“Pull over the car!” I screamed, and Stiles did immediately, into an empty lot. The smell of the asian food wafted through the air and gagged me. I stumbled out of the jeep, tripping over the curb I’d run to, and puking on the grass. I heard a door slam shut, and Stiles ran over to me. “No- n- go!” I managed to say before vomiting again.

“Shh… no no I’m here…” He pulled all my hair back, collecting it in a ponytail in his hand.

“It’s gross-” More bile rose. Stiles looked away, probably because it probably made him want to throw up too. He just rubbed my back and cooed soothing things.

“I think you’ve got the stomach bug y/n” He sighed. I groaned. It’d gone around the school before graduation, but I didn’t think I could get it this late.

“I guess” I sighed, moving my head down till it fell on my knees.

“It's okay” Stiles said softly, still rubbing my back and holding my hair. “You can come back to my place and have a shower or a bath okay?”

“No Stiles if I get sick again I wanna be by myself” I know he was about to protest. “Think about it this way. You want me accidentally puking on your bed?” He thought for a moment.

“I don't want you to be alone” He countered. I was the quiet one now, contemplating what I wanted to do. Eventually I nodded, and he helped pull me up. “Here” He shrugged off his flannel and handed it to me. I looked at it for a second, and he rolled his eyes, stepping forward and wiping my mouth gently with the fabric.

“Stiles that's sweet and so disgusting” He chuckled at me and I took the ball of plaid from his hands.

“Come on sicko let's go home”

I stood in the shower repeatedly washing myself for probably twenty minutes, then soaked in the tub for half an hour. My skin smelled rosy like soap, but was all wrinkly at the tips of my fingers. But I didn't care much. I got out and wrapped a towel around myself, as well as one on my hair. There were folded pajamas Stiles gave me sitting on the counter, but I sat on the floor in the towel, wrapping it around myself like a blanket. My head was buzzing, and I wanted it, no, needed it to stop because it was about to make me cry.

At some point I pulled myself together and yanked up the soft pants and silky jersey. It smelled like Stiles, and suddenly I didn’t feel so nauseous anymore. When I finished, I pushed open the door and slowly made my way down the stairs.

“y/n?” I heard Stiles call, and I turned on the steps, holding onto the rail. I hummed in response, and he went down to where I was stood. “What’re you doing going downstairs?”

“So I can sleep, I’m exhausted physically and mentally” Stiles cocked his head to the side.

“Well then go upstairs to bed were… were you gonna sleep on the couch?” I nodded, rubbing my eyes with my fists. He shook his head, and laid a hand on my back. “Come on, let’s go to bed” I didn’t say anything, just let him guide me up the steps and into bed.

“But if I pu-”

“Look, there’s a little garbage can right there, and even if you miss, I’ve already brought in extra sheets” I smiled a wavering smile and thanked him. His brows cinched. “Are.. are you crying?” He asked, pulling the blankets over me. I shrugged.

“I-I guess?” I stumbled.

“y/n, why? What’s wrong?” His hand smoothed down my hair, and he kneeled in front of the bed facing me as I lay on my side. “Hey… hey shh.. What’s going on?” He stared at me as I wiped my eyes.

“I don’t know I guess… I guess…. I guess it’s my parents being out of town for another week and Alli kept asking me about Theo and am.. Am I a whore? For sometimes just needing one night with no strings attached?”

“N-”

“But maybe I was hurt he left? It’s been three weeks, I don’t know Stiles, I feel ridiculous” He shook his head, smiling softly at me.

“y/n you’re not a whore don’t ever think that- don’t even say it, you’re not. We all do things we’re not proud of and that’s just something some of us do-”

“I don’t know anyone-”

“Liar you know Lydia used to, you think anyone ever dare call her that? No of course not, it’s called being smart and nice about it” I buried my face into his pillow. “So you slept with somebody. You both wanted it, you were safe about it, so maybe you forgot it, but hey, that’s a part of the fun right?” I sniffled.

“I feel dirty Stiles” He shook his head, pushing all my hair back behind my shoulder.

“Well don’t. Because it all worked out fine, didn’t it?” I thought for a moment, then smiled softly and nodded.

“Yeah, yeah it did” I said quietly. Stiles grinned, and kissed my forehead. “Thanks Stiles”

“Anytime y/n” He said, ruffling my hair and standing up. “I’ll see you in the morning”

“You’re not gonna stay?” I asked, watching as he wandered to the door.

“My Dad’s down in his office and he wanted some help on a case… I thought it’d be a good opportunity-”

“No no, go help him” I said, waving him off. Stiles smiled at me and flicked off the light.

“Goodnight y/n”

“Goodnight Stiles” I murmured back.

“Alli… Alli please stop crying it’ll be okay” I assured repeatedly.

“He… he hates me, he must hate me” She whimpered.

“Lyd, Lydia can you come here?” I called. The strawberry blonde came rushing in, and I took the bundle of crying blankets from her arms. I rocked softly back and forth and cooed.

“Maybe we should call-”

“If you say Stiles I will scream” I responded.

I shot up in bed, a cold sweat sticking my clothes to my skin. I took in my surroundings, barely registering I was in Stiles’ room when I felt my throat swell.

“Shit” I cursed, springing out from under the covers and rushing into the bathroom. I gripped the bowl of the toilet, puking and crying at the same time.

When I woke up next, it was to Stiles shaking you gently. You hummed, opening your eyes.

“Hey, hey Alli’s here” He said softly.

“Okay” I said, sitting up and tying my hair back in a ponytail right away. I needed it out of my face.

“She said you texted her?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah, a few hours ago I woke up really sick and didn’t have a ride or anything” I told him, swinging my legs over the bed, just sitting on the edge.

“I could’ve driven you home-”

“I know I know I just… I needed a girl and I had a bad dream with her in it” I said the second part quietly. Stiles nodded in understanding.

“Alright well text me” He said.

“Of course”

“And if you get sicker then go to the doctor, I’m worried about you y/n” I smiled at him and shook my head, standing to crack my bed.

“Don’t worry Stiles, it’s just a stomach bug it’ll pass” I assured, walking out of the room, to which he followed behind me.

“But you’d tell me what’s going on right?” I turned as I grabbed my bag from the floor. I’d dropped it at the stairs last night before going up to take my shower.

“Stiles, of course I would, stop momming me okay?” He sighed.

“Fine fine, I’m done pestering” He said. “Give me a hug before you go though” I rolled my eyes but let him pull me in by my shoulders. He squeezed me for a moment.

“You’re not dirty y/n” He said, and I closed my eyes, silently reeling in the moment.

“Thank you Stiles” I whispered, and he rubbed my back for a second before pulling away. He smiled and I reciprocated it. Then picked up my bag and walking to the door. “Tell Noah I say hello and thanks for letting me stay overnight” He nodded, and I opened the door, waved goodbye, and walked out to Allison’s car.

“I think black looks nice on anyone’s nails” I said, and the brunette rolled her round eyes at me as I applied the polish to her fingers. “And it’s insta dry, and it’s done by me so you’re promised perfection”

We’d been sitting in my kitchen for the past half hour as I did Allison’s nails. She had her eight month anniversary with Scott tonight, and the only hint he’d given her was formal. So she’d asked me to do her nails for her.

“Oh right, your Lydia’s little manicure prodige” Allison said, waving her drying hand around in a dazzling manner. I smirked, maneuvering the brush down carefully. “Anyways, Stiles seemed surprised to see me at the door this morning” She said, and I kept my focus on her hand. “You didn’t tell him I was coming?”

“I didn’t even tell him I got sick Al”

“What? Why?”

“Because he’d get over worried and it’s sweet but… I don’t know last night I got super emotional about it and just opened up” Her eyes widened, as well as a smile on her lips.

“Open up about your crush on him?”

“Hush up it’s minor” I groaned under my breath, doing the last stroke of black paint on her pinkie.

“Okay sure” She said sarcastically. “What’d you open up about?”

“About sleeping with Theo, mom and dad being gone for the next week, feeling… feeling bad I guess”

“That’s not a bad thing y/n” Allison said softly. “Confiding in each other is just what friends do”

“Sure, but I told him I felt like a dirty whore” I said. She stared at me in shock.

“Well I wasn’t expecting that” She said, blinking slowly.

“I barely meant it, sure sometimes I think about it but I don’t really feel like that my mood just… it just got weird” I said, biting my lip. “Do you really think my crush on him could cause this kind of thing?”

“Mood swings?” I nodded. “It could, I guess” She said, shrugging a shoulder, and inspecting my finished manicure on her nails. She smiled, and I put the bottle of midnight black away. “Do you love him?”

“Of course I do, he’s my best friend” I responded. Allison smiled innocently at that.

“Do you love him as more than that?” I looked at her, a long glance from my curious eyes to her soft but inquizitive ones. “You could?” She questioned my silent answer aloud.

“Sometimes… sometimes it’s all I can think about” I told her hesitantly. “Other times, it’s the farthest thing from my mind” Allison nodded, thinking through my answer. I didn’t say anything more, unsure of what I even could say. That was the bottom line truth. I looked through my other polishes, and pulled out a turquoise color from the box. I shook it, and opened it up.

In seconds the smell made it’s way to my nose and I choked, vomit pushing against my lips. I barely made it to the kitchen sink.

“y/n!” Allison cried, rushing over to me as I puked into the garbage disposal. “God you poor thing” She whispered, rubbing my back just like Stiles and Lydia had done to me previously. “Girly we need to get you some medicine, what do you have around here?”

“Nothing that’s gonna help I tried-” More bile came up before I could finish the sentence. Allison sighed quietly.

“I’m going to schedule you a doctor’s appointment, okay?”

“Yeah yeah go ahead, Doctor Alberts is in my contacts on my phone please get me in today or tomorr-” More puke.

“Hi, hello I’m calling to make an appointment with Doctor Alberts for my friend y/n? Uh, y/n l/n? She’s been getting sick a lot lately” I listened as Allison spoke, resting my elbows on the counter and holding my head in my hands. “Yes an appointment today would be perfect” Allison spoke. “Three o’clock? Yes just give me one moment to check with her” I gave Allison a weak thumbs up. “Three is perfect thank you so much ma’am, alright, you too, bye” She hung up my phone and came over to me. Allison turned on the faucet, and ran a dish rag under the cold water. I let her press it to my head.

“Thanks Alli” I said, and she nodded, guiding me to the living room.

“No problem sweetie” She said softly as I laid down on the couch. “Get some rest, you’ve got four hours till we go okay? I’ll just wake you up if the time comes and I’ll drive you there and everything, okay?” I nodded.

“Thank you” I mumbled again, and she nodded before I closed my eyes.

“I’ll go get you a blanket honey, I’ll be right back”

The drive to the office wasn’t long, thankfully. The heat in the car was going to make me vomit again right onto the dash. But as soon as the feeling came we parked and I got into the air conditioned building. Allison sat with me in the waiting room, my leg bouncing anxiously as the place was silent. Not filled with people, maybe six but I tried not to count.

There was actually seven not counting Allison, or the baby in a woman’s arms.

“y/n l/n” My head jerked up to see my doctor standing by the door. I smiled in relief at the familiar face. I stood up and turned to Allison.

“I’ll be right here, you’re okay” SHe said kindly, and I nodded, before walking up to the older woman.

“I’m sorry but we must do this every time” Doctor Alberts sighed as she handed me the cup.

“Thank you” I said quietly, and made my way past her, and to the bathroom around the corner. I did what you had to do, and placed the cup in the compartment before washing my hands. When I finished I stepped back into the hall, and she guided me to a room. Closing the door behind us.

“Go ahead and have a seat” She said, patting the cot with the paper over it. I nodded, wiggling to get up on it as she looked through her patent files. I watched as she clicked on mine. “How have you been miss y/n? I haven’t seen you in awhile” She asked with a kind smile.

“Besides the puking, alright” I shrugged. My doctor pulled on rubber gloves, and opened a cabinet.

“Graduated high school right?” She asked with a smile, getting out the arm wrap and pump for my blood pressure check.

“I did, and got into Berkeley”

“Is that where you’re going?” She asked, securing it around my arm.

“I haven’t decided yet, I was hoping to have heard back from Corcoran by now. It’s in DC by my friend’s by now”

“Oh well that’s nice, but also far, what made you want to go there?” She asked, pumping the rubber ball in her hand, eyes on the dial on my arm.

“My best friend is going to DC as well, well, we haven’t heard back from the school yet but I just know he got in” I told her. She smiled, unwrapping my arm and typing something into the computer.

“I see, you want to stick together” She commented, and I nodded. “I’m going to go get your results back from the lab, I will be back in a moment” Doctor Alberts said, and I smiled with a slight nod. When the door closed after she left, I texted for Allison to come in. She arrived two minutes later.

“Hey, everything alright?” She asked instantly.

“Yeah she went to get my pee back” I said, causing Allison to giggle and roll her eyes as she sat in a chair next to the bed I was perched on. “I’m uh.. I’m sorta nervous”

“Why?”

“I don’t know I guess… what if it’s like.. Cancer or something?”

“Darling I can pretty much promise you that it’s not cancer”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep” I sing songed, raising a brow down at her.

“Fine, if it’s cancer, I will shave my head with you” The door opened and Doctor Alberts chuckled quietly. Glasses were sat on the bridge of her nose as she gazed down at the clipboard in her hands.

“It’s not cancer miss y/n” She said, setting the board on the counter. I breathed out a sigh of relief.

“I mean I didn’t think it was that would be insane I don’t even know how that could’ve happened you know? But there was still that worry-”

“Miss y/n..” Doctor Alberts said slowly. “You’re pregnant”

“What?”

surprise bitch alright everybody alright... here comes the angst

tagged: @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @morganschiebel and @bunnyboo10154

love the feedback guys thanks so much! <3

~ xoxo Jordie (P.S: i’m gonna need baby names)

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagine #teen wolf scenario #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fanfiction #Stiles #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski scenario #stiles stilinski x reader #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien fanfiction #dylan o'brien imagine #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan o'brien scenario

171 notes · View notes