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semisgroupie · 3 years

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Third Time's The Charm

Club Member!Taichi x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: fingering (f!receiving), exhibitionism (Oikawa watches), condom usage (i know, crazy right?), praise, many many check ins, safe word mention, characters are college aged (both seniors in college so 21/22)

A/N: this is my submission for the @hqintheclub Haikyuu University Sex Club collab! Read the rest of the works here! I am so thankful for this network and to contribute to the collab, I hope this does a good job in conveying safe sex practices. Also a huge huge thank you to @meiansmistress for beta-reading!!! Yes the safe word is a little tribute to what Taichi does in the timeskip.

Once Shinsuke called the end of the meeting, Kawanishi stood up and made his way to the front of the room with his clipboard in hand.

“Alright my fellow club members, I’m just going to go over the statistics before the end of the month, who need to go for their STD tests and the notes I took from this meeting.” He adjusted his glasses and flipped through the papers. “Okay, so some recommendations from this meeting are, ‘buy scented toilet paper’ by Tooru. Yeah, not happening.”

A whine came from the back of the meeting room.

“Dude, why not? You know how girls have to pee after sex? They could have something that smells good while they do it!” Tooru’s eyes lit up offering his proposal, just like every other month, only to have it shut down again.

“Buy scented candles or something for your smelly bathroom.” Chuckles and snickers erupted in the room while Tooru sat back and pouted like a child. Kawanishi went through the rest of the recommendations and other areas of concern before moving onto the last topic.

“Okay, so for the fun part. Time to see who has had the most and least sex this month.” The room went dead silent as Kawanishi went over the log book. He did a onceover of the totals before looking at the group.

“So the lucky guy with the most amount of happy customers is… Osamu with eighteen.”

“Huh? ‘Samu? He isn’t even here! Not even a member.” Atsumu huffed and kept on ranting and raving about his brother until Kawanishi interrupted him.

“Actually, he’s an unofficial/official member who does not need to really attend meetings since we haven’t properly officiated his membership. But we definitely need to do that since he’s definitely bringing popularity to the club. Next is Mr. Chairperson Tooru and Mr. President Shinsuke both tying in with twelve happy ladies. Congratulations to the both of you. So, now the two least are—well you guys shouldn’t be surprised as these results have been consistent for a while now. But in good spirit, it’s me with two and Keiji with one.”

A shrug came from Keiji as the results were read. Kawanishi felt the same way, it got annoying every single time he had to read the results. They both knew they had to get laid but Kawanishi had his eye on a special someone.

The meeting was called to an end and Kawanishi made his way to his room to get ready for his chemistry lab. There was only one thing circling in his brain—he had to raise his number, but how? There was that one person he wanted but he wasn’t even sure if she even had plans to use the services the club provided, let alone choose him.

You were Kawanishi’s cute little lab partner. Always looking at him with bright doe eyes and always greeting him with a huge smile. You were too cute, too innocent to use the sex club. Kawanishi was sure of that. You probably even had a boyfriend so any hope he had for you was gone.

That was until he overheard you talking to your friends.

You were huffing and complaining about your sex life as you stood in front of the lab room—well, lack of sex in your life. You had a cute pout on your face as you rambled on, completely unaware of Kawanishi eavesdropping on such a private conversation.

“My toys aren’t even as enjoyable anymore! I just give up halfway through because it's the same thing over and over, I’m tired of it! And there’s absolutely no way I’m going to find a random guy on Tinder because he could be a creep or just horrible at sex.”

You sighed and started scrolling through your phone while your friend started thinking about what you said. Kawanishi recognized her, he knew her name started with a J and she was with Osamu last week. He remembered her moaning—well, screams—of Osamu’s name. As Kawanishi shook the thought from his head, “J” spoke.

“Remember that hook up I told you about last week?” She waited for you to nod before she continued speaking, “Well, there’s a website I met him off of. I’ll give it to you now and check it out. I think I saw a picture of your lab partner on the site. But check it out and let me know who you pick. Enjoy your class!”

You gave her a quick thanks before walking into the lab room, getting your goggles and supplies as Kawanishi soon followed. You made small conversation but every time you snuck a glance at him, you couldn’t see him as the type to be a part of the university’s sex club. Jay probably got him confused with someone else but for some reason you couldn’t wait until you got back to your apartment.

You just had to make sure. It was just curiosity. Well, that was what you kept telling yourself when you opened up your laptop and typed the web address in. You were met with the website, seeing the names of all the members and things that they specialized in. While you were scrolling through, your eyes widened and your heart dropped to your stomach.

Secretary: Taichi Kawanishi Specialty: Fingering

“Holy shit. It’s him.”

You read the name over and over again. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep finally getting to you or maybe it was because you unknowingly inhaled some drug that caused you to hallucinate and see his name. No matter how many times you refreshed the screen and rubbed your eyes, nothing changed. His name was still there and so was his specialty.

“Fingering? Well, he does have nice fingers. They are very long.”

You started thinking about his slim fingers, wondering how they would feel on your skin, grazing your most sensitive parts, but before you got too deep in thought you snapped yourself out of it. This was your lab partner! Not some pornstar or prostitute. Not some rando you met on a dating site. You would see him again if you decided to go through with it. How would that change how you two interacted with each other? Would it bring unnecessary tension?

You had this back and forth with yourself all night. You finally made your decision when you couldn’t get yourself off, the toy on your clit no longer bringing the same satisfaction it used to. With a huff you grabbed your laptop and went back to the website. Once the page loaded, you looked through all the guys and their specialties.

“Corsetry? What is that?”

You looked through the rest of the other specialties and you were equally intrigued and confused. You went back to Kawanishi and stared at his name. You didn’t want to ruin anything but you couldn’t stand this any longer—you needed a good fuck and you needed it badly.

“Fuck it.”

You scheduled an appointment with him, Saturday evening, a time where the site said he would be free. You put your laptop away and went to sleep.

The next morning Kawanishi woke up to frantic knocking on his door. He rolled out of bed and opened the door to be welcomed by Tooru.

“Dude, what the fuck? Did someone die?”

“No but check your phone, someone has been scheduled for tomorrow evening.”

Kawanishi rolled his eyes and checked his phone, the notification woke him up.

“Y/N scheduled me for tomorrow evening?”

“Don’t worry my friend. I will get you condoms. But aren’t you glad I sent you for STD testing on Monday? You can thank me later.”

The rest of the day went by normally, then Kawanishi remembered one of the main rules.

“New members and members who fuck the least need to fuck in front of an official club member.”

Kawanishi went to some of the other guys first, but Keiji and Koutarou both said they couldn’t. Shinsuke had to visit his grandmother and some of the other club members were occupied. That left only one person.

“Tooru, are you busy tomorrow evening?”

Tooru thought for a few seconds then shook his head. He furrowed his eyebrows in a silent question as to why he would be needed tomorrow evening.

“You forgot the rule, didn’t you?” Tooru kept a confused look and shrugged his shoulders.

Kawanishi pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed before continuing. Only if anyone else was free. He would take anyone at this moment over Tooru.

“People who fuck the least in the club need to fuck in front of an official member, and everyone one else is busy so I’m asking you.”

A smile grew on Tooru’s face as he got up and wrapped his arm around Kawanishi’s shoulder.

“Oh my friend, don’t make me seem like I’m the last choice—“

“—you are.”

“Ouch, anyways I’ll be glad to watch. Do you need any tips? All the girls have left with a smile on their face after a night with me. You know I would’ve never thought I’d say this but you should’ve gone to Seijoh or maybe I should’ve gone to Shiratorizawa… I would have gotten you laid all the time, or at least done a better job than stupid Ushiwaka, you wouldn’t have had this little dry spout you’re having now—hey!”

Kawanishi removed Tooru’s arm and walked out of his room.

“Thanks for doing it, I don’t need your help though. If you try coaching me, I don’t care what I’m doing, I will throw you out of the room myself.”

Kawanishi spent the rest of the night and most of the day Saturday organizing his room, making it neat and stuffing his mini fridge with drinks and snacks. When it was time for you to come over, he waited for you in front of the club house.

As he waited, his nerves were getting the best of him. He hadn’t felt this nervous since he lost his virginity. Before he could really start worrying, he saw you approaching, giving him a small wave before you could greet him with a hug.

“Hey, well first off, thank you for choosing me for this. I should explain that we will have someone watch us, so if that makes you uncomfortable I completely understand. It’s just a rule we have for the club and I can show you the rule book if you need me to once we get to my room.”

“It’s okay. If you don’t mind me asking, who will it be?”

Before Kawanishi could answer your question the man in question wrapped his arms around the both of you.

“Hello you two! I shouldn’t need to introduce myself but I’m Tooru and—oh! I recognize you, Y/N right? I think we had biology together last year. You saved my ass so many times with your notes. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Kawanishi here treats you right—ow!”

Kawanishi pinched Tooru’s side and gave him a mean side eye.

“Tooru, remember what I told you yesterday.”

Tooru raised his hands in surrender at Kawanishi’s warning and you couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction. The sound of your laughter helped calm Kawanishi down a bit. He just had to get it through his mind that you were just a regular person with needs just like him, and he was going to help you satisfy those needs.

Light conversation was shared between the three of you as you all walked to his room. Once you crossed the threshold of his bedroom, Kawanishi took your hand as he led you to the bed and sat next to you. You rested your hand on top of his and offered him a shy smile, leaning in slowly.

“C-can I kiss you Kawanishi?”

He cupped your cheek and closed the distance between the both of you. Your lips felt so soft against his and he couldn’t stop himself from deepening the kiss. His hand moved to squeeze the fat of your thigh that was exposed by the skirt you were wearing. He broke away from the kiss to sit against his headboard, patting his thighs.

“Come on, come sit on my lap, pretty girl and we can get started. If you feel uncomfortable, your safe word is mojito. Once you say it, I will stop whatever I’m doing and we can just cuddle or do whatever you want, okay?”

You settled yourself on his lap with a meek “yes” before leaning back in to kiss him. Tooru was sitting on the spare chair in the room, scrolling on his phone. It was adorable to see you get so shy. You were always so confident and so outspoken, but once Kawanishi got you inside his room you crawled into a little shell.

He pulled you down to kiss you this time as his hands wandered over your body. His hands moved over your clothed breasts, squeezing them softly, making whimpers leave your lips. He moved his hands lower to your ass, squishing the flesh, and when you bucked your hips into his he gave it a light smack, swallowing the moan that left you. He pulled away to look at you.

“Can I touch you some more? I just want you to feel really good for me.”

“P-please touch me, w-want more.”

He smirked at your stuttering—it made this even more enjoyable. He leaned in and trailed kisses from your lips to your jaw and neck, your hips bucking more. You were so sensitive he couldn’t wait to see how you would react to his fingers. His hand trailed up your thigh and his thumb grazed against your panties. You bit down on your lip, trying to hide your moans.

It was embarrassing to you how quickly you were falling apart; he hadn’t even touched your skin for more than a few seconds and you already felt like once his fingers touched your bare pussy, you would cum.

Kawanishi licked your neck as he slid your panties to the side.

“Are you ready? I’ll go nice and slow for you.” He spoke into the skin of your neck as his fingers rubbed your slick folds.

“Yes, please.”

Your head dropped to his shoulder once he slid his middle finger inside you, moving slowly. He hissed at the way your cunt swallowed his finger, thinking about how it would feel once his cock was buried inside you. He sped up his thrusts, your muffled moans and whimpers encouraging his actions further. He slipped another finger in, leaning back to see your expressions as you quickly lifted your head from his shoulder.

Your jaw went slack as moans kept falling from your mouth, your hips bucking into his hand as you got lost in the pleasure, chasing your orgasm. His fingers were so long and hit so deep. They felt so good, better than any toy you had used in the past month or so. You were embarrassingly close to your orgasm after only a short time.

“Ka-Kawanishi, ‘m close!”

“I know, just cum for me, okay? Cum all over my fingers, let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

He thrusted his fingers faster, using his thumb to rub your clit. He rubbed your back with his free hand while watching all your expressions. Your hands made their way to his shirt, balling the fabric in your fists as you came undone on his fingers with a moan of his name. He slowed his fingers down to help you relax, making sure he wasn’t overstimulating you.

“You did such a good job for me. You look so beautiful when you cum. So good for me. Are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine,” you reply breathlessly.

“We can stop here. All I care about is you cumming. I could continue fingering you until my fingers turn pruney if you want or I could get you some snacks and water and just talk.”

You shook your head; you couldn’t leave him hard. You wanted to fuck him, and the snacks and drinks could always come later.

“I-I want to fuck you. I want you to feel good too.”

“Don’t worry about me, this is all about you and your pleasure. I’m here for you, okay?”

You nodded as he reached over for a condom on his nightstand. You lifted yourself off his lap slightly to remove your panties and skirt as he pulled off his sweatpants and boxers, revealing how hard he was.

“Okay, so how do you want to do this? I want you to be comfortable and enjoy yourself.”

“I want to ride you.”

You sat yourself on his thigh as he opened the foil package and rolled the condom onto his cock, pinching the tip of it. Once it was on, he placed his hands on your hips to help you guide you down on his cock. His grip tightened, feeling your warmth envelop his cock and fighting the urge to just thrust up into you. He moved you down slowly until you bottomed out.

“You did amazing, now take your time. I’ll help guide your hips so you don’t go too fast.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders as you slowly bounced yourself on his cock, the tip brushing against your g-spot over and over again. Praises kept falling from Kawanishi’s lips as moans kept coming out from yours. Tooru couldn’t help but start palming himself over his sweatpants at the sight of you and Kawanishi, your sweet moans and cries filling the room. Your hands went under your shirt, freeing your breasts from the confines of your bra. You played with and teased your nipples, adding extra stimulation to the pleasure you were already feeling.

The closer you got to your orgasm, the more your legs shook, making him take more control. He bounced you up and down on his cock, thrusting his hips up to meet yours. You felt so good around him and the sight of you playing with your nipples turned him on even more. If he thought you looked beautiful when you were fucking yourself on his fingers, you looked like a goddess now. Your pussy clenched his cock tighter and tighter with each thrust, signalling to him that your orgasm was approaching.

“Cum for me Y/N, cum for me. I know you’re close, I feel you clenching me so tightly. Come on and cum for me.”

Once the soft commands were spoken, you came around his cock, your eyes clenched shut as your jaw went slack letting out a silent moan. As you were riding out your orgasm Kawanishi couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Small beads of sweat rolled down your neck and you finally opened your eyes to make eye contact with him. You leaned down and connected your lips with his once more.

Kawanishi kept thrusting until he filled up the condom with his cum. Once he felt you relax around him, he lifted you up slowly and laid you down on the bed, covering you with a blanket. He pulled the condom off, tying a knot and throwing it out in the trash can in his room. He nodded at Tooru, giving him the signal to leave, and so he did with a wink and a wave.

Kawanishi reached out for your hand and helped you get up as he walked you to the bathroom.

“I just need you to go to the bathroom and then we could watch something.”

You did your business and left the bathroom with a small smile on your face.

“Is there any way we could have this happen again? I don’t know if you guys can have regulars or if it's against the rules.”

Kawanishi chuckled and walked you back to his bed.

“We have no rules about regulars and I’d love to do this with you again.”

He kissed you on the forehead and handed you a water bottle to drink from before laying down next to you.

As he laid down next to you, talking about a random topic you brought up, he finally understood when people said the third time's the charm. He couldn’t have asked for a better person to raise his total to three.

#taichi kawanishi smut #hq taichi smut #hq smut #haikyuu smut #tw exhibitionism #sex ed collab #hqintheclub

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dottielovegood · 3 years

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ASMR - chapter 2

Elriel fanfiction

About this fic:

Azriel can’t sleep Elain has an ASMR channel Match made in heaven (or you know, on youtube..)

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Since a few people seemed to enjoy the first chapter, I decided to continue this story. You can find the first chapter here And you can read the story on AO3 here.

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CHAPTER 2

Flower Girl ASMR 1 day ago I am so happy that I could help you sleep, @Shadowsinger <3 ASMR stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. It is that tingly feeling you might get from certain sounds. You can also have visual triggers. Supposedly, if you find the right triggers, they will help you relax and they can even help you sleep. I hope that sleep treats you with kindness from now on.

Azriel stared at his screen. She had responded. She had actually responded to his message. He had scrolled through her comment section again to see if she replied to all her messages, but she didn’t. She liked most comments, but she only replied to a few. It made him feel special, which was absurd. Why did he feel special because some girl on the internet had replied to his comment? She had probably already forgotten about it.

But Azriel carried it with him for the rest of the day.

He also carried with him the annoyance of some of the comments he had seen. This girl really needed to learn how to block some words. Especially: boobs, nudes, cock, jerk off, and cum. Azriel made a disgusted face when he thought about it. If they knew each other, he would help her with that.

But they didn’t know each other, so Azriel didn’t have to think about it. Those comments shouldn’t affect Azriel in the slightest. He had read way nastier things on the internet and never cared.

What was it about this girl?

Azriel was sitting at his desk. He was working at Velaris Times – a web-based newspaper that his best friend Rhysand had started a few years ago. He hired Azriel to work in IT and their other friend, Cassian, as a photographer. It was a pretty small newspaper, so they all felt like family there.

Azriel was feeling naturally energized for the first time in his life. He didn’t even need to down his usual three cups of coffee this morning. Cassian was sitting next to him, editing some photos for an article that their co-worker Mor had written.

“You wanna grab some lunch later?” Cassian asked.

Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave his computer, but he nodded in agreement. “Sure. Should we invite Rhys?”

Cassian snorted. “Nah, he’s on that weird health-cleanse, remember? Feyre probably packed him a kale juice and some broccoli.”

Azriel chuckled. Feyre was Rhys’s wife and since they decided to get pregnant, she had been all about healthy eating, to Rhysand’s dismay. He wasn’t even allowed coffee - it was all about the green tea! Some days, Cassian and Azriel ate their lunches at the office which always lead to Rhys staring longingly at their food. It felt like having a dog begging for scraps underneath the dinner table.

“So that’s still going on, huh? I thought he would have given up by now. There’s only that much kale you can eat,” Azriel said.

“Yeah, but he’s whipped. Remember when they first started dating and she served him soup from a can and he ate it like it was a gourmet meal.”

“Fair enough.”

“You know that I can hear you, assholes?” Rhys called from his office. They had been very aware of this fact. Rhys strode out of his office, wearing his usual uniform of a dark suit and a crisp white shirt. Azriel was happy that he worked in IT so he could get away with just wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt - and maybe a hoodie on cold days.

“Are you telling me that Nesta doesn’t have you wrapped around her little finger?” Rhys smirked and leaned against the doorframe.

Cassians ears turned red. “She could never get me to drink kale-smoothies every day.”

Rhys shook his head. “You were pining for her for two years before she even agreed to go on a date with you. She could probably tie you to your bed and get you to call her mistress if she wanted to.”

Cassian leaned back in his chair and gave Rhys a purely male grin. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Azriel groaned. “Too much information, Cass.”

Cassian shrugged. “Don’t be so sensitive, Az.”

Azriel glared at him. “I’m not sensitive just because I don’t want to hear about your sex life.”

“That’s because you don’t have a sex life,” Cassian muttered under his breath, which elicited a burst of laughter that sounded more like a snort from Rhys.

Azriel shook his head and tried to concentrate on his work, which was almost impossible when his two friends were still staring at him. He could almost feel them scheming.

“Hey, Az. How’s the dating going?” Rhys asked.

Azriel didn’t answer, mostly because the answer would be that it didn’t. He didn’t date. He was tired of going on dates with people he didn’t know. He wasn’t very talkative, so dates were basically his nightmare. And it was even worse when he agreed to download Tinder on a drunken night a few months ago. Dating like that just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to meet someone on the internet like that.

“You want me to set you up on a blind date?” Cassian asked, and Azriel pretended not to hear him.

“Nesta has some great friends,” he continued. “What about Gwyn?”

Rhys nodded. “Yeah, Gwyn is a nice girl.”

Azriel stared at his friends. “I’ve met Gwyn.”

“So?”

“If I’ve already met her, it’s not a blind date.”

Cassian thought about it for a second and shrugged. “Eh, semantics. Should I tell Nesta to give her a call?”

“No. She’s not my type.”

Truthfully, Gwyn was a very sweet girl. She was cute and funny and determined, but she just wasn’t for Azriel. They had met a few times but there had been no attraction - no sparks. Azriel wanted to feel something from the start. He didn’t want to be in a relationship just to avoid being lonely.

“So, what is your type exactly?” Rhys asked.

An image popped into Azriel’s head. Usually, he couldn’t imagine what his type would be, but now, he saw someone in his mind. She had golden hair and cute little freckles on her nose. She was gentle, kind and calm.

It was Flower Girl ASMR.

Azriel closed his eyes, trying to get the picture of her out of his head. What was wrong with him? He didn’t want to date someone he had only seen in a few videos. That made him as creepy as those assholes in her comment section. He didn’t even know her. He didn’t even know her name.

“I don’t know,” Azriel muttered. “Could you please let me get back to my work?”

And after a few more suggestions of people they could set him up with (he kindly, but firmly, declined), they finally let him work.

That night, Flower Girl ASMR was hosting a livestream on YouTube. Azriel wondered if they might live in the same time zone since the live stream seemed to coincide with a reasonable bedtime for him.

Azriel joined the livestream just a few minutes after it had started. A few hundred people were already logged in. Flower Girl ASMR was sitting in front of a background that looked like the night sky; dark blue and full of fairy lights. Her hair hung in waves around her face and she was wearing a pink top that matched her complexion. Not that Azriel noticed such things, why would he?

She was brushing her camera with a make-up brush, making it look as if she was brushing his face. “I am so happy that you all could join me here tonight,” she whispered into her microphone. “As promised, I was going to host my first livestream when we reached one hundred thousand subscribers, which we did last week.” She smiled at the camera, one of those smiles that reached her eyes. Azriel could feel himself smile back. Which was stupid. She couldn’t see him. “Tonight, you can make requests or ask questions in the comments, and I will answer a few of your questions,” she continued. She was still moving the brush over the screen. The combination of her whispering voice and the visual trigger of the brush made Azriel tingle all over.

Most comments were very nice; telling her that she helped them sleep, or wanting her to say hello to them. People asked her about her favorite color and if she had any pets (lilac and no). One person asked her to do something called hand sounds, and Azriel had never in his life appreciated hands rubbing together as much as he did at that very moment. Maybe it was something with the setting on her microphone, but the sound was like a wave of pleasure in his brain.

He could feel himself relax. But then, of course, the nasty comments started.

HybernCoolKid Show a little skin babyyyy. Those tits look perky af

MortalGraysen Trying to look so innocent when you’re a fucking slut

Amarantha_utm I would honestly rather watch paint dry

Azriel could feel his blood boil. He recognized the names from the video he had watched last night. Why didn’t she just block them? On the screen, he could tell that Flower Girl had seen the messages; her face fell for just a second. And one second was all it took for Azriel to suddenly feel very protective. He was just about to go tell them to go fuck themselves when he saw that he wasn’t the only one with that idea. The comment section was flooded with love for her and in just a matter of moments, the mean comments were drowned in a sea of heart emojis. Flower Girl smiled at the screen, silently thanking all of her followers for the love. But she didn’t address the hate. She just kept going as if nothing had happened. There were a few more nasty comments during the livestream, but the same thing happened every time; her followers love-bombed her. Azriel was happy to see that most people seemed decent enough, but god, she really needed to learn how to block people.

Before he could think about it, he clicked the link in her description that led to her Instagram. Her username was the same on that app, and it was mainly used to tell her followers when a new video was uploaded. Azriel quickly looked at his own feed, making sure that there was nothing embarrassing. There wasn’t. He didn’t post very often, and when he did he usually posted pictures of food.

He clicked the button for her DMs, and before he could talk himself out of it, he wrote her a message.

Shadowsinger Hey! I just watched your livestream (it was great!) but I couldn’t help but notice some really rude comments. I hope you don’t find this weird, but have you tried blocking them? If you don’t know how, I could send you a link that will describe how to do it. God, this is weird, isn’t it? If this message makes you uncomfortable, just delete it. I’m sorry. But if you need help with blocking those douchebags, please tell me.

He sent it without even reading it and as soon as it was out in cyberspace, he groaned. What the fuck was he doing? She wasn’t his friend. She wasn’t his anything. Yet, there was something that drew him to her. Maybe it was the fact that she helped him sleep? Yes, that had to be it. It was either that or witchcraft, and Azriel didn’t believe in the occult.

Azriel was just about to put his phone in another room and go die from embarrassment when he saw that she had answered his DM. He was afraid to open it. What if she told him to fuck off? He would never be able to watch her videos again, and then he would never again feel rested.

FlowerGirlAsmr Hello! I recognized your username from one of my videos! I’m happy that you enjoyed the livestream :) I have blocked them multiple times, but they keep coming back. But thank you for offering to help me. That is very sweet! Ps: The lasagna on your feed looks delicious.

Azriel stared at the message dumbfounded. She had answered him. And she didn’t tell him to fuck off. She had remembered his username. And she thought that his food looked delicious. He didn’t understand why he suddenly felt so nervous. Should he tell her that after watching her video he had the best night’s sleep of his life?

Probably not. That might sound creepy.

Shadowsinger Yeah, I commented last night. Have you tried blocking words from appearing in your comments? If you did that, you might not have to endure such nasty comments. (Yes, the lasagna was very delicious)

He was staring at his message. Did he sound stupid?

Yeah, he definitely sounded stupid. The lasagna was very delicious ? Why did he add that?

Stupid, stupid, stupid

But despite his stupidity, she answered.

FlowerGirlASMR You can do that?? I had no idea! I am not very good at computers. Honestly, I have to google every single thing about YouTube because I understand nothing, haha. How do I block words?

Shadowsinger I’ll send you a link that describes the process!

He sent her the link and waited for a few minutes, feeling happy to help her.

FlowerGirlASMR I hope you don’t think I’m stupid, but I understood absolutely nothing :( Is there a link for dummies?

Azriel laughed at the last part of her message.

Shadowsinger Unfortunately not. But if you want, I could help you.

She didn’t answer him for a while after that. Azriel was staring at his phone, trying to will a message to appear. Did he cross a line?

FlowerGirlASMR I won’t give you the details to my account. We don’t know each other.

Oh god. She thought that he was trying to scam her or something. Fuck.

Shadowsinger I don’t need to log into your account.

He sent the message quickly.

Shadowsinger I could guide you if you like? I work in IT so I’m used to just guiding people through these things.

FlowerGirlASMR How could we do that? I’m not very good at understanding instructions when they are written…

Azriel had an idea and it was both brilliant and idiotic. He typed quickly before the logical part of his brain told him to stop helping this girl he didn’t know.

Shadowsinger I could give you my number and guide you through the phone? I could share my screen with you so you could follow along like that if you are more of a visual learner. You could call me with a hidden number.

He added the last sentence to make her feel safer. And because he didn’t trust himself to have access to her number.

Again, he had to wait for a small eternity before her message popped up.

FlowerGirlASMR That would be great! Could I call you tomorrow at 10.00?

He didn’t even check his schedule before typing “Yes.”

She answered with a smiley.

Azriel sent her his number and she said that she would call, and that was that.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Azriel muttered to himself and got back to bed.

He opened the youtube app, and one of her videos was the first one he saw. His finger hovered above the video. Would it be weird to watch her now that they had messaged each other? He decided to click another ASMR video instead. And then another. And then another.

After 2 hours, he realized that all ASMR was not equal.

So he gave in and clicked on one of her videos. Flower Girl ASMR’s face filled his screen. “Hello my lovelies, lovelies, lovelies,” she whispered, and Azriel thought that she was the loveliest person he had ever seen.

Five minutes later, he was fast asleep.

#elriel fanfic #azriel x elain #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar #acotar fanfiction

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theoreticslut · 4 years

Text

“You don’t share real well”

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

requested: no

word count: 2k

warnings: none, fluff maybe

A/N: this is totally just a fluff idea I had based on how I’ve rarely ever shared a bed with anyone and how totally inept I am at leaving the blankets alone. If I don’t rip them off the bed to form myself into a burrito, then they’re kicked off the end of the bed. I hope some people relate to this or at the very least find it funny and enjoyable. Leave me comments and let me know what you think! Xx

Taglist: send me a message/comment if you’d like to be added to a general taglist!!

It had been a long few months since you’ve last seen your two best friends. When Fred and George decided to drop out of school, it became nearly impossible to see them since you couldn’t easily leave the castle. You sent letters back and forth nearly every day, and you had managed to sneak out once or twice, but it wasn’t the same as what you were used to with them.

In one of their last letters they sent you they said that they’d meet you at the burrow before their brother’s wedding.

That was still about two weeks ago though and you were more than excited to see them. You missed the two idiots more than anything, except you couldn’t say anything about them visiting to anyone else as they wanted it to be a surprise.

You had been staying at the burrow pretty much since school let out as your parents weren’t really around. Molly didn’t mind because in all honestly she saw you as a second daughter. She knew how close you and the twins were, as well as how the younger two Weasleys looked up to you as an older sibling

“Y/n, dear. Why don’t you go up to bed? You look exhausted.” Molly suggests after you’ve zoned out for the fourth time in twenty minutes.

You had been helping prepare for the wedding; making sure the house was tidied up from top to bottom, make sure the yard was in top condition, helping prep all the food and bake the desserts. Truthfully you have been busy for the last week.

“Are you sure, Molly? I’d like to help finish up.” You yawn even though it’s only about 9:30 at night.

“I’m sure, dear. Go on to bed, now. Tomorrow will be a bit of relaxation before the big day.”

You nod, smiling sleepily at the woman you’ve come to see as a mum. You were more than grateful for her, but felt guilty for not being able to keep up.

She reassured you again that you were fine to go to bed and nearly had to push you towards the stairs herself.

“Goodnight. Thank you for everything.”

“Thank you for all the help. Now get.” She smiles, shooing you away.

Tiredly, you make your way up the stairs to the twins’ room. It had been sitting empty for months as they had pretty much immediately moved into the apartment above their shop.

Since it had been left empty, Molly was more than happy to let you take it over when you were there. You hadn’t changed much except for pushing the beds together to make one big bed.

You liked both of the twins as more than friends, so it felt wrong to you to choose just one of their beds. Even though it wouldn’t have made a difference to anyone, you just couldn’t bring yourself to choose.

Sighing as you close the door, you make your way to your bags that you hadn’t bothered to unpack even though you’ve been here over a month and a half already. You dig through until you find a pair of pajama shorts and an oversized shirt you were positive you had stolen from one of the twins at some point.

Having changed and brushed through your hair, you throw yourself onto the bed and snuggle into the mass of blankets that were a mix from both the beds. Not even five minutes after laying down you found yourself falling into a deep sleep.

~.~

“Fred, shhh. You’re gonna blow our cover.”

“Oh it’s not like anyone is awake. Everyone around here sleeps like a log.”

You groan softly as the two wake you. You shouldn’t have expected anything different, those two boys wouldn’t know quiet if it hit them in the face.

“Would you both shut up. I was sleeping peacefully.” You grumble, not bothering to look at them instead keeping your eyelids shut to hopefully not lose any of the sleepiness.

“Merlin’s beard, y/n. What are you doing in our room?” Fred asks, not even noticing the beds yet as you startled him.

“It’s become my room while I’m here thank you.”

“Uh huh. Is that why the beds have been pushed together, love?” George asks, setting his stuff down and going to take off his jacket.

“Mmhmm.” You hum, still trying to get back to sleep.

“Where are we supposed to sleep then?” Fred asks, and you just know he has a pout playing on his lips.

“Take a side and shut up. Please. I’m tired.” You mumble, attempting to bury your head in the pillows.

The twins chuckle at you, shaking their heads as they both find some pajamas to change into. Once changed they climb into the bed either side of you, curling around you, covering themselves with the blankets.

“Good night, love.” George whispers, kissing your shoulder as you’re currently facing Freddie.

“G‘night, Georgie. G’night, Freddie.”

“Good night, princess. He smiles, placing a kiss to the top of your forehead.

Soon enough your back to sleep with the twins following soon after.

~.~

George groans as he wakes up. What for he’s not sure. Not until he realizes that he has no blanket.

He looks over at you, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes to see you seemingly buried in blankets as you apparently stole them from both him and Freddie.

Chuckling he works on yanking them out from under you. Usually whenever you all had fallen asleep together, whether on purpose or not, you each had your own blanket. He honestly can’t recall a time when any of you had shared a blanket.

Finally he gets enough blanket to cover up with again, this time trying to curl up closer to you and tucking the edge of the blanket underneath him to keep it on him. He wonders if he should try covering his twin back up, but decides he really doesn’t care too much about it at this moment. Instead, he’d much rather go back to sleep.

Not even twenty minutes later, Freddie wakes up freezing. He sighs when he sees you’ve taken them, shaking his head but smiling at you nonetheless. You’re too damn cute when your sleeping for him to be mad at.

Same as his brother, Fred starts pulling at the blankets to get some to cover up with. He, too, moves in a bit closer but doesn’t think to tuck the other side underneath him.

~.~

You sigh, waking up from a dream that you already fail to remember. You huff as you feel like you’re in satan’s sauna. Between the blankets, the twins’ body heat, and being squished in the middle you feel like you’re burning alive.

Carefully you try to wiggle yourself out of Fred and George’s hold to pull the blanket down just enough to get some fresh air.

Soon enough you’re falling back asleep at just the right body temperature.

~.~

You groan as you roll over, not yet opening your eyes. You can tell it’s daylight, but not quite time to get up. Maybe another hour or two.

“Merlin, y/n.” You hear George huff. You frown, why is he huffing at you this early in the morning?

“What? Why are you huffing at me?” You mumble, just barely able to open your eyes to look at him.

“You don’t share real well, you know that?” He asks, looking down at you as he reaches for something at the bottom of the bed.

“What do you mean, Georgie?” You still mumble. You really aren’t ready to be up yet.

“You’ve kicked the blankets all the way to the end of the bed. And that’s not even half of what you’ve done throughout the night.” He chuckles, finally grabbing hold of the blanket and pulling it up over the two of you.

You groan, not wanting to be under the blanket. You’re comfortable. You try to push the blanket off you but George just wraps his arms around you and pulls you into him.

“Georgie, it’s too hot.” You huff, pouting at him.

“Just go back to sleep for awhile. It’s still too early.” He sighs, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

“You’re such a pain.” You huff, giving into the younger of the twins.

“Go to sleep, princess. And please stop taking the blankets from us.” You hear Freddie mumble, his face smooshed into the pillows and facing away from you.

You huff, pouting a bit at how rude the twins are being this morning. True you had been the same last night when they snuck in, but they were being loud, you aren’t.

“Quit your pouting, love.” George states, kissing your shoulder and nuzzling his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses along your skin.

“You’re the one who’s had us up all night trying to figure out where the blankets are. If you hadn’t taken them all for yourself, you had kicked ‘em away so no one had them.” Fred grumbles, turning to face you and George.

“Or you had pushed us to the very edge of the bed.” George adds, chuckling slightly as his head in still buried in your neck.

“Oh....I’m sorry, guys.”

“It’s alright, princess. Just let us have a few more hours of sleep, please.” Fred smiles, kissing your nose.

“We’ll be ready to be up, then.” George finishes the thought, kissing your neck.

You nod and smile giving both boys a kiss on their forehead or cheek before cuddling up with them and drifting back to sleep for a bit.

✨ BONUS ✨

“Y/n, dear. I have a question-“ Molly starts to say as she opens the door, waking you and the boys.

“Fred, George! What are you doing here?”

“Mmm, Good morning, Molly.” You hum, a bit groggy from waking up. “Oh! W-we haven’t done anything...” you say, suddenly realizing that you’re wrapped up in both the twins’ arms. You can only imagine what she must be thinking.

“Oh, I know, dear. I’m not worried about that one bit. Honestly, I’m more surprised you haven’t. The way you all are with each other.”

“Mum!” The two boys groan, earning a chuckle from their mother as they blush a bit.

“I’m just saying. Anyways, y/n. I had a question; which do you think would look better with the flowers we already have?” Molly asks, holding up two different filler flowers.

“How about we use some of both? They’re both really pretty and would look great together with the flowers.” You yawn, still trying to wake up fully.

“That they would. Good idea, hon.” She smiles, going to walk out the room.

“I’ll be down soon to help with breakfast.” You call out to her.

“Don’t you worry about it one bit dear. You take your time!” She calls back, already heading down the stairs.

“She loves you.” Fred says, leaning over to you.

“And you’re just realizing this now?” You chuckle, sitting up a bit. “I’m a more tame version of you two, of course she loves me.”

“A bit full of ourselves, aren’t we?” George chuckles as you do a small hair flip.

“You know it’s true.” You smirk, winking at him as he and Freddie break out laughing.

“That’s why we love you.” They say simultaneously, looking at you lovingly.

You smile, blowing each a kiss.

“Now let’s get up boys,” you say, lightly slapping their legs. “I’ve been helping make breakfast the entire time I’ve been here, you can come help me this one time.”

“We can head down in a few minutes. We didn’t get as warm a welcome as we were hoping for last night.” Fred smiles as he pulls you back down by the waist, leaning over you and kissing your nose.

“You were being too loud.” You giggle as he continues placing kisses around your face, George placing light kisses around your neck.

“And?”

“And I was trying to sleep!” You point out.

You giggle as George’s hand trails up your side, tickling your skin as he does.

“Just love us for a bit, darling. We’ve missed you.” George smiles, placing a kiss on your lips.

“You two are unbelievable.” You sigh in exasperation, but giving into both of them. None of you have ever made things official, but it was pretty clear that you were theirs and they were yours.

“Isn’t that why you love us?” Fred asks, taking his turn kissing your neck and sucking at the spot just behind and below your ear. You gasp at the pleasure of it as he smirks.

“One of the reasons.” You smile, pulling both of them into a hug. You were more than elated to have them here with you again. You’d never say it aloud but you missed the two dorks so much.

639 notes · View notes

night-fallz · 3 years

Text

XY’s Muse

Based on this prompt

Like I have stated before, this is my first fanfic. Please let me know what you think of it. Any kind of criticism will be welcome.

uploaded on 01/23/21

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Ao3 // Wattpad

previous II next

Chapter 2

XY was staring at the ceiling. A week has already passed. And he still couldn't stop thinking about the day he spent with Marinette. It was the most fun he'd had in a while.

Before the whole Silencer fiasco, his father would not stop pressuring him to produce a new song. So when they met up for dinner and his dad came up with the idea of stealing someone else's music, he couldn’t bring himself to decline.

XY knew it was wrong.

But all he wanted was the chance to finally impress his dad. Bob Roth might not have the best attitude towards him, but he was all XY had left.

Xy already lost his mom. He would not lose his dad too.

At least, that's what he believed. He should've known that his father was just using him for money. According to his dad, money was the most valuable thing in life.

XY scoffed. He should've known better. He should've known that all his father thought of hi-

He felt a buzz in his pocket and his face immediately brightened. Marinette just texted him!

Marinette: what's up?

Marinette: have u been inspired yet?

Marinette gave XY the idea to just sit back and let inspiration hit him. It was a common idea but it was one that most people tend to forget in the long run.

XY: nothing much

XY: and nope.

XY: my dad has been pressuring me to come up with something tho

Marinette: ignore him

Marinette: he's just mad cause he can't get any ladies

The three dots popped up on his screen.

Marinette: OH CRAP I'M LATE

Marinette: TTYL.

XY rolled his eyes and smiled.

They've been texting back and forth these past few days. He's learned so many things about her and vice versa.

It was nice. It's been a while since XY has had a friend.

Maybe she'll be even more, XY couldn’t help but think as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Huh," XY said out loud. "Even more"

And just like that, inspiration for his next song hit him.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Marinette was thinking of a certain blonde-haired, blue-eyed musician when she heard her phone ring.

"Tikki!" she screamed, staring at her phone as if it was Hawkmoth himself.. "He's calling me. XY is calling me."

Tikki sighed and floated next to Marinette, "Maybe you should answer it. It would be pretty rude to keep him waiting."

"Right, right," Marinette answered his call and hoped her voice didn’t sound as squeaky as she thought it did.. "Hey."

"Hey."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Marinette didn’t know what to do. She glanced at the small goddess.

Tikki rolled her eyes at their awkwardness as she gestured to the phone. Ask him why he called you, she mouthed to Marinette.

Marinette nodded. That was a smart idea. "So," Marinette cleared her throat. "Why did you call me?"

"Right, Uhm." Marinette heard him shuffling around his room. "You know how you've been asking me if I was inspired and stuff?"

Marinette's eyes grew wide and a huge smile took over her face as she started to nod before remembering that he couldn't see her. "Yep." she eagerly said, "Did you find any?"

"Yes!" Marinette could hear the excitement in his voice. "I was actually wondering if you wanted to design the outfits for my music video."

Marinette's eyes looked shocked. "Yes!" she jumped around in excitement before remembering she was still in a call with XY. "Why me though?"

XY’s voice sounded confused.. "What do you mean, why you? You're literally perfect for it. You're talented. Plus, everyone loves your designs."

Marinette’s cheeks resembled a tomato. She has never been more thankful for the fact that he couldn't see her right now.

"Thank you." Marinette managed to mumble. "That really means a lot."

"You're welcome." XY said. Marinette had a feeling he was smiling though. "I have to go and have my dad listen to the demo. But I'll text you later, okay?"

"Yep," Marinette whispered and gave Tikki a cookie. "Good luck. I know that whatever song you came up with is gonna sound good. No matter what he'll say."

Marinette heard a faint "Thanks" from the phone before the call ended.

Marinette screamed into her pillow and looked up and saw Tikki look at her with amusement. “I think I like him.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So, what do you think?" XY asked as his father finished listening to his song. "Is it bad? Do you think people will like it?"

Bob Roth grinned at his son. "This is a Masterpiece. Where did you find this?" He gestured to the video of XY singing the song, "Who did you steal this from?"

XY's proud smile immediately turned into a scowl. "What do you mean, who did I steal this from?" He yelled at his dad, his blue eyes glaring at him as he grabbed the demo from the table. "I made it. I came up with it myself." XY felt his eyes tearing up. "Something you would actually know if you thought of me as something more than a money-making machine."

How could he? XY thought as he climbed up the stairs. Is it that hard to believe that I could come up with something good?

XY slammed his door shut. "All I wanted was to prove to him that I wasn't a talentless son." XY put his hands on his face. "I just wanted to make him proud."

XY felt a buzz in his pocket and immediately knew that it was Marinette. After all, she’s the only one that ever texts him.

Marinette: how did it go?

Marinette: did he like it?

XY wiped away the tears that were starting to come out of his eyes. He couldn't help but smile. Marinette certainly had an effect on him.

XY: he called it a masterpiece

Marinette: yes! I knew he would like it.

XY: yeah

XY: but then he asked me who i stole it from

Marinette: THAT JERK

Marinette: WTF

Marinette: THAT's SO MESSED UP

Marinette: HOW COULD HE-

Marinette: DO YOU WANT ME TO BEAT HIM UP FOR YOU????

XY laughed at her text messages. He only started to text her and he already felt better.

XY: no, it's fine

XY: i actually yelled at him

Marinette: ...

Marinette: do you feel better?

XY: actually, yep.

XY: he's a really sucky father

Marinette: for some reason, a lot of the blondes i know have a toxic parent

Marinette: it's kinda sad

XY: maybe it's a paris thing

They texted back and forth, XY laughing at the memes Marinette sent.

XY: You're definitely a daughter of Athena

Marinette: ( ⚆ _ ⚆ )

Marinette: is that a percy jackson reference i see

XY: yep

XY: have u read the books?

Marinette: duh

Marinette: you haven't lived til you've read the books

Marinette: sadly, the movies sucked tho

XY: I KNOW

XY: ANNABETH WASN'T EVEN BLONDE

Marinette: EXACTLY!!

Marinette: SJSJSJSJSJSJ

Marinette: THE MOVIES SCARED ME FOR LIFE

XY: oh yeah

XY: before i forget

XY: what's ur insta?

Marinette: which one

XY scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion.

XY: What do you mean by which one?

Marinette: i have two

Marinette: one as my personal one and the other one for commissions and stuff

XY: ohhh

XY: smart

Marinette: i know ;)

Marinette: my personal one is @Mdupaincheng and the one for my commissions one if @MDCdesigns

XY switched his apps and searched up Marinette's personal instagram. He clicked on the first result that came up.

The profile picture was Marinette in a blue, silky dress that went just above her ankle. There was a slit on her left leg that showed her knee. It was nighttime and Marinette was practically glowing under the city lights. She was staring at something on her right side, with one hand running through her silky black hair which was down for once.

She looked hot.

After XY stopped admiring her profile picture, he finally noticed her follower count.

She had 200,000 followers. 200,000.

It wasn't as high as XY's follower count, that was still quite a lot.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

XY: i didn't know u were insta famous

Marinette: wdym?

Marinette: which acc

XY: ur personal one

XY: u have over 200k followers

Marinette thought that she read his text wrong. There's no way that Marinette had that many followers. 200,000? There was no way.

Marinette: ur lying

XY: I'm not.

XY: check ur acc

It's been a while since Marinette has logged onto her personal account. The hate she got the last time she's been signed in was too much for her and when Alya told her to log out and just focus on her other account, @MDCdesigns, she couldn't bring herself to argue against her.

Marinette hasn't even thought of that account since that day. So when she logged in and saw that XY wasn't lying, she accidentally dropped her phone in shock.

Tikki looked at Marinette with a questioning look.

Marinette ignored her kwami and texted the blue-eyes boy back.

Marinette: HOLY SHIT

Marinette: I HAVE 200k FOLLOWERS

Marinette: HOW TF DID THAT HAPPEN

XY: when was the last time you checked ur acc

Marinette: about 3 months ago

Marinette: the media thought i was adrien's gf and his fangirls came at me

Marinette: i got a ton of hate and a friend of mine told me to log out and just focus on my @MDCdesigns acc

Marinette: so i did

Marinette: i haven't thought abt that acc since then

XY: the fangirls were probably just jealous

XY: it's been months so they probably calmed down

XY: I'm looking through the comments rn and so far the latest hate comment you've got was about 2 weeks ago

XY: you've got a bit of a fanbase yk

Marinette: WHAT DO I DO

Marinette: DO I JUST CONTINUE NOT TO POST OR SHOULD I POST SOMETHING ON MY STORY ABT HOW THANKFUL I AM FOR 200k

Marinette: HOW COME NONE OF MY FRIENDS TOLD ME ABT THIS

XY: don't post anything rn

XY: post a picture of yourself and the caption it something that shows ur thankful for the number of followers u received

XY: OH

XY: a few hours before u post the picture, make sure u post on ur story abt how ur back from ur break on social media

XY: that way ppl will understand why u haven't been active

XY: it'll also have ppl prepared for ur post and they'll be waiting for u to post it

XY: that'll give u more engagement and stuff

Marinette: thank u

Marinette: that was really helpful

Marinette: when should i post something?

Marinette: AND I STILL DONT KNOW WHY MY FRIENDS DIDNT SAY ANYTHING ABT THIS

XY: u told ur friend that u were taking a break from social media right?

Marinette: yes

XY: then they probably weren't expecting u to post anything so they weren't checking ur insta

XY: u should post something on the weekend

XY: that way ppl wouldn't bother u during school this week

XY: if u want i can help u come up with ideas tomorrow?

Marinette: yes, please!

Marinette: do u wanna come over

Marinette: we can plan it in my room so that ppl won't overhear us

XY: guess I'll see u tomorrow then

XY: just text me the time ur available and I'll be there

Marinette: make sure to wear a disguise tho!

Marinette: we got lucky last time and no tabloids caught us

XY: ur right

XY: we must've been really lucky if no one got a pic of us

XY: but okay

XY: I'll wear my best disguise

XY: goodnight, princess

Marinette blinked a few times, making sure she read the text correctly.

Princess.

Marinette: goodnight ♥

previous II next

This is the first chapter of the story. Please let me know what you think

1,967 words

Tag list:

@iglowinggemma28 @mica-aa @lady-bee-fechin @maskedpainter @snnoww26 @ravenr22 @spiritofchaoticdreams @ravennm84 @heaven428 @finn-cipher @peterxwade24 @aliceofice22 @queenamongthorns @captainmac6

289 notes · View notes

wornoutmouse · 3 years

Text

Im making this gender neutral cause I feel like I did pretty damn good here. And it had a bit of a fairytale ending but I couldn't figure how else to tie it up prettily

Also tried of tumbler adding gaps to all the paragraphs when i copy and paste from docs to here so y'all just gonna have to deal. this fic is way too damn long for me to fix it like i normally do

Also i went over the aparent limit so just look for the words "pt2" in green for the extension

Letting go is one of the hardest things one can do. But understanding why you had to let go is harder.

You and Izuku knew each other for the longest time. Hell you were the one that lifted him back up when Bakugou knocked him down. So why…. Why after all that were you not good enough?

He never said you weren't, he'd never do that. But the worthlessness you felt as you watched her hand him a love letter. You thought, he won't accept, afterall she's one of the many girls and guys that had confessed since the beginning of U.A. Hell you were surprised Ochaco even had the guts to confess.

But the small blush and smile that overcame his face as he finished reading the letter, was one you've never seen before. In that moment you wished you'd decline coming with him for support.

The sick feeling in your stomach grew larger as they hugged each other tightly. That sickness translated into a smile when he looked back at you.

From then on, your sunny disposition was a fabrication of what once was. You didn't hate her, you even saw the appeal, having the slightest crush on her as well. You just hated that he chose her. Was the years of companionship worthless?

As the two grew closer, you grew farther and buried yourself in training and school work. Days went by, months, and by the time graduation came, you were all 3rd years. You and Deku had become nothing more than aquaintences.

The others tried to stop your descent into isolation, Including you in everything they did, ut it wasn't the same.

"Hey Y/n." You wiped your sweat with the towel around your neck. You'd been at it for most of the day and had shed most of your clothes. Izuku was dressed casual for once and looked gorgeous in the setting sun.

"Yes Midoriya?" Ouch. When did you start calling him that? You couldn't quite remember. Deku looked over the trees, green hair blowing with fall wind. "You know we haven't hung out in a while." You took a drink of water as you sat on a fallen log. "Oh really?"

That came out harsher than needed and you both knew it. "Since we are graduating tomorrow, I was wondering if you would join us for once as a last farewell.

You didn't miss the undertone in the last comment. Deku watched in silence as you put your tank top back on. "I don't think I can make it."

Izuku's fists clenched as he glared at the floor. "Why?" You eyed his fists,"I have other things to do." Deku scoffed, "Give me a break, school is over what more do you have to do?!" "More important stuff than partying."

There was a change in the air and at the last minute, you jumped back as Deku's foot slammed down in the floor causing a sizable crater. "Stop lying Y/N! What could you possibly have to do that's more important than hanging out with your friends?! Don't you understand that this is the last time we'll have this much free time to see each other!?"

A small smirk crawled onto your face. 'Still a crybaby huh?' tears trailed down Deku's face as he looked at you, "We haven't talked in years y/n." You would not break, this was for the best, you would not fall back into this cycle. "We talked this morning." "Hello is not a conversation y/n"

"What do you want me to do then Izuku?"

Nothing, just like you expected. "Listen Deku, Sometimes, people grow apart and..." You have to take a deep breath, cause if you don't you'd break all over again. "Sometimes we just have to accept it."

Izuku says nothing more and leaves, heartheavy. During the party, Izuku spent his time with Uraraka, both day-dreaming about their future, though Izuku wasn't as engaged as he usually was. You sat alone in the common room, looking down at the feastivities below. Mr. Aizawa was the only one who noticed.

As a pro hero you stayed in a moderate range in regards to popularity. About the same level that Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods used to be.

Watching Bakugou and Midoriya's ranking teeter back and forth like hot potato was amusing as the fiery blond would call you to complain since he knew you would simply listen.

Your love life was non-existent besides the occasional fling with a cute chick at a bar or a himbo™ at the local gym. You weren't looking for anything sold anyways and that was not only due to your hero work, but because no one peaks your interests.

The gang of course flocked together in regards to their love lives. Kaminari and Jiro were finally a thing. Momo and Todoroki were dropping hints to each other but they are both a bunch of oblivious bimbos and that is not going to change anytime soon.

Tsu and surprisingly Mineta prefered the bachelor life and worked hard on building their teams. You were greatly surprised when Mineta asked you to come to his house and genuinely asked your opinion on trainees.

Unlike the rest, Mina, Kirishima and Bakugou, were trying to figure out the ins and outs of a poly relationship. Bakgou of course being the word if reason as the other two goofed around.

All was in its place as you all conformed to your new adult lives. You had no faint clue where the other boys were besides Kouji's and Satou's engagement.

It was a Thursday evening when you walked into your condo, shuffling through your mail until a white envelope with gold trimming for your attention.

You are invited….

Of course how could you forget Deku and Uraraka. When was the last time you saw those two? Most likely the last day of school. How the hell did they get your address?

You tossed the envelope on the couch and walked to your kitchen to get a bottle of wine. You spent that evening drinking the petty thoughts away, altering between cursing Ochako, to reminiscing on how they were truly a match made in heaven.

By 4 in the evening, you were beyond tipsy and could barely stand to answer the door when the bell rung.

"Whatdoya want Midoriya?" You said, leaning a little too far to the left. Deku looked at you with concerned eyes. "Are you drunk y/n?" Your roll your eyes and turn around, walking back into your home. "What does it look like?"

You slump on the couch as Deku walks throughout your home. He was alot bigger than you remembered. His curly green hair was almost touching your ceiling as he looked at your disheveled body.

"I'm just here to make sure you got my invitation." You tug the envelope from where it fell between the cushion and wavs it in front of your face. Izuku acknowledged it as he sat down, "Well are you coming?"

You shrugged your shoulders as you reach for your glass. Izuku tried to take it away and you smack his hand. Even though you could taste the unresolved tension, you wanted to make things a bit lighter. "I don't know deku, what's the theme? If it's green then I can't come, you know that clashes with my complexion."

He doesn't laugh, not even a smile. Oh well not your problem. The bottle is empty much to your disappointment as you held the opening over your mouth. Deku sits there, fists on his knees as he makes a conflicted face. "How many bottles have you drunk?"

You slap his back, slightly impressed that his solid form didn't move. "Oh calm down worry wort!" A lazy grin comes over your face and a teasing tone slips into your voice. "I'm not an alcoholic...mmm, yet."

You both sat in silence, Deku swirling in his own emotions for seeing you this way. You looked completely fine on the surface but he knew you better. They all knew you better. Bakugou's weekly gossip visits were nothing more than a check on your personal health. Even Mineta had to pitch in.

"Hey Deku?" You looked off into thin air as you spoke but Izuku hung off your every word.

"Can you kiss me?"

Deku didn't mean to stand up the way he did. You didn't react, you expected it if anything. "Y/n, you know I can't do that. Why would you even ask!?" You rubbed your eyes to rid yourself of the smallest threat of tears. You weren't an emotional drunk and you weren't going to start being one now.

"Mm just thought that if you did, maybe I could get over this fuzzy feeling in ma'chest." Deku blushed, from what you. didn't know, but you did notice how he sat back next to you, closer than before. "If I do…..will you come?"

I was going to come either way idiot

"I'll think about it."

Your lidded eyes picked up on the smallest movements and you shivered as Izuku held your chin between his fingers. The kiss was gentle and nothing more than a simple press. You would have been fine with that, that's all you wanted. What you weren't expecting was for Deku to continue.

You could feel your chest flair with the familiar discomfort of things being out of your control. His rough hands came home to your face as he deepened the kiss. You couldn't help but let out a small whimper as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip and he took that chance to delve deeper.

You pushed him away and stood. You both looked at each other, darkened eyes and veins fluttering with adrenaline. "Why?" you whispered, voice betraying you as it cracked. Izuku held his fist over his heart where you pushed him. "I..I did what you asked." You shook your head.

No, no this is wrong

Izuku stands up and tries to console you. The words that left his lips unrecognizable.

It's over isn't it?

"Y/n calm down please and let's talk." You put your hands over your ears. "You're so selfish." You wheezed. Why was the room getting darker?

It's over isn't it?

Strong hands grip your arms and you scrape them off. "Get out."

You won and he chose you

As a last resort, Deku tries to kiss you again, holding you close back your lower back, even daring to nibble your lips as he pulls away. "Y/n can you please focus!?" Why was he making it worse? You are not a home wrecker!!

And he loves you so he's gone

Izuku helplessly watched you fall into your own thoughts as you gripped the wall so hard your knuckles turned white.

It's over isn't it?

You blindly stumble into your room and close the door, falling against it.

Why can't I move on?

Izuku tested his forehead against the door, trying to listen for any sign of life, even a heart beat. On the other side you fall into a dreamless sleep.

War and Glory

It rained on their wedding day. And in the worst way possible or made the ceremony even more beautiful as light drops of water tangled itself in Uraraka's veil.

The pictures were to die for and so was the food. "Y/n come on, take a picture with me!" You sip some champagne and prepare yourself for your sin free facade as you walk over to the new bride.

Her dress was gorgeous yet modest, one would confuse this gathering for a party since you were forced to wear white with her and Deku despite you explaining how weddings worked.

You kneeled to adjust to her height as she held the camera the highest she could. "You want me to do it?" You took the phone and held it above you. Ochaco pouted as you dwarfed her and gripped her small hands on the front of your clothes.

She smelt of strawberry's and soap.

Reinvention

Before you could pull away, she tugged your down as she came to whisper in your ear. "I know." She pulled away with the same small smile she wore since the day began. Your face mirrored one of fright and she quickly noticed.

She raised her hands in surrender as she tried to calm you down. "Hey what's that face for, it's fin-" you flinched as she reached out to touch you. Backing up, you ran into Deku who quickly held onto you to prevent you from falling.

You do your best to calmly untangle yourself from him, but subsequently jumping away as if you were on fire. The newly weds shared a look and you shivered as they both narrowed their eyes at you. Focused the same way they were when on a mission.

Fusion

Walking through the crowd of fans and distant family was no hard feat as you headed to the hotel the wedding was taking place behind. The two followed you and you tried your damnedest not to simply run.

You had almost made it out conservation free but Deku's hand quickly slapped on the side of the door before you could close it and he forced his way in as a limping Ochaco followed behind. "Come on Y/N, these heels are uncomfortable!"

You could feel tears falling down your face as you backed away from the two. It wasn't out of fear, but shame. Shame that you had feelings for your friend. Shame that you kissed a taken and engaged man. Shame that his wife knew.

"Y/n calm down it's fine, I don't mind!" You looked at her with confusion and bristled as Deku came closer. "I told her the day after it happened." You focus on Ochaco, preparing yourself for any physical attacks the small woman might deem necessary. "I'm sorry Ochaco, I-I didn't mean for it t-to happen."

Anger at the memory filled your brain and you almost didn't notice small hands taking hold of yours.

Her attention

"It's okay Y/N." Ochaco smiled warmly at you, bringing your hands to her lips as she kissed them gently. "I don't mind, infact this was the goal for a long time." You look at Deku for some coherent conversation, "What is she talking about."

Izuku blushed, "We've been trying to get your attention since highschool. We knew how you felt and didn't mind you joining us like Kachan, Kiri, and Mina." A steely gaze with the power of Aizawa's death glare, casted over Izuku's face, "But you kept running."

Ochaco waved her hands to divert the sudden hostile energy. "Anyways, we were planning on announcing it at the flower toss." Ochaco reached into her bussom and pulled out a small jewelry case. Inside it held a silver ring, strikingly similar to the one she now wore on her left hand.

"I know we really haven't got to get to know each other that well. And I know your feelings don't lie for me but, if you would like…" Deku gingerly plucked the ring from Uraraka's hands and the both lowered to their knees. (Ochaco with more effort as the fluff of her dress almost tipped her over)

Oop looks like i went over the limit?

#black y/n #blackreader #bnha headcanons #mha #bnha x black reader #bnha #deku x reader #deku x ochako #bnha ochaco #ochaco x reader #gn reader #mha x male reader #x male reader #poc male reader #male y/n #gender nuetral reader #poly love #mha angst #bnha angst

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years

Text

No Matter What

Read here on AO3!!

Summary:

Bruce figures out that his son isn't straight from an early age.

That doesn't make him love him any less.

- Eight Years Old -

Bruce is finally starting to get a hang of this parenting thing.

The first few months were rough, there’s no disputing that. Bruce lost track of how many times he panicked and called Leslie Thompkins whenever Dick burst into tears over something and Alfred wasn’t home. Not to mention all the times when Alfred would leave Bruce on his own for dinner, insisting that one must learn how to raise a child without a butler to help. Bruce fed the kid burnt chicken nuggets and garlic bread for two nights straight. Now, though? Bruce is immensely proud of how far he and Dick have come. He’s even taken to attending PTA meetings, if only for the free coffee and doughnuts. He hears the front door open right on time, then wet boots hitting the floor. Dick had a half day today to make room for meet-the-teacher night later. Bruce isn’t looking forward to spending two hours sitting in a chair made for eight-year-olds, listening to a teacher in plastic pearls talk about an elementary schooler’s oh-so challenging curriculum. At least he’s only got the one; he has no intention of having more kids after Dick. Bruce busies himself with his mostly unburnt slice of toast, one ear trained on the footsteps through the foyer accompanied by unceasing chatter that Bruce has grown quite fond of over the months. “—and then they let us outside for recess even though it was raining, and I went on the swings and my hair got all wet and it was so cool.” “That explains the muddy clothes,” Alfred says. “Sorry, Alf. I’m not immune to mud puddles.” “It would appear so, Master Dick.”

The two of them enter the kitchen, Dick working his elbows out of his yellow rain slicker to reveal the school uniform beneath. His cheeks are rosy, his eyes bright. “Hiya, Bruce!”

“Hey, champ. How was school?” “It was awesome. It was raining all day and at recess there were a ton of puddles all over the playground and a million worms. I didn’t touch them though, ‘cause the teacher said not to.” “What snack would you like, Master Dick?” Alfred asks, taking Dick’s discarded raincoat and folding it over his arm. “Can you do ants on a log?” “Coming right up, sir.” Dick heaves himself up on the bar stool beside Bruce, his sock feet kicking against the lower cupboard. Bruce spreads marmalade over his toast. “Tell me more about school. Any fights today?” “Nope,” Dick says proudly, flashing his gapped teeth. Dick and another boy got into a scuffle on the first day over a comment about whether Dick’s parents being from the circus meant they were part monkey. It’s a miracle Dick only gave the kid a nosebleed and didn’t break anything. The principal let Dick off with a warning since it was his first time at a normal school, but Bruce has a feeling the only reason he wasn’t expelled was because his guardian is the most powerful man in Gotham City. Bruce had a stern talk with Dick when they got home about the importance of controlling one’s actions. Traveling the world in a circus train car doesn’t do much to help one’s impulse control. He also banned Dick from watching television for the rest of the night, but Dick’s crocodile tears swayed him to balance it out by letting him have ice cream before dinner. That’s good parenting, right? “I even made a friend,” Dick says. “Oh? What are they like?” “His name is Caleb and his desk is right next to mine, so we talked during reading time. Then he gave me some of his chocolate during lunch and we played on the swings together at recess.” “Ah, the wonders of childhood friendship,” Alfred says from where he’s slicing up a celery stalk at the other end of the counter. He sounds relieved, and Bruce finds himself matching it. Dick has been at Gotham Elementary for almost a week and hasn’t made a single friend until now. Bruce can’t tell if that is more because of Dick’s circus background or because he is a tan-skinned boy with the barest of Romani accents attending a predominantly white private school. Sometimes (all the time) Bruce loathes being associated with Gotham’s high society. If you’re not white, straight, and rich, you are automatically shunned in their minds. “He sounds great, Dick.” “Yeah! And he’s got really pretty eyes too. I can’t tell if they’re brown or green, but they’re sparkly like glitter.” Bruce arches an eyebrow. “You must like him a lot.” He takes a bite of his toast, making eye contact with Alfred over the boy’s head. Alfred doesn’t react but for a twitch of his mustache. Dick nods, focus switched over to the plate Alfred slides in front of him. Dick takes a celery stick and picks off the first raisin coated in peanut butter, licking it off his thumb. “I hope he talks to me again tomorrow. Alfred, can I bring an extra snack to lunch tomorrow so I can share it with him?” Alfred smiles. “Of course. I will pack a second cupcake in your lunchbox tomorrow morning just for him.” “Thanks, Alf.” Dick goes right back to eating his ants on a log, cheerful as ever, completely unaware of the swarm of question marks buzzing around in Bruce’s head. Huh. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Eleven Years Old - Bruce gets home from a three-hour business meeting, his sandpapery eyes aching to close and stay shut for...let’s go with ten years? That should be enough. He loosens his tie and prepares to go upstairs to his bedroom where he’ll spend the next decade of his life hibernating, until he sees his ward on the living room sofa. Dick is lying on his stomach with his face buried in a throw pillow, as if he’s waiting for the sofa to swallow him whole. Must have been a bad day if he’s not sliding down banisters and flipping over chairs like usual. Sighing, Bruce goes over. “Dick? You alive over there?” “Mmph.” At least he’s conscious. Bruce sits on the arm of the couch, shaking Dick’s thin shoulder. “Come on, kiddo. Use your words.” “Mmph.” “Bad day, then?” Dick nods. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” Dick shakes his head. Bruce sits back with a frown. “Alfred?” he calls. Alfred pokes his head in. “Yes, Master Bruce?” Bruce gestures to their anguished preteen. “It would seem that our lad had a rough day at school. He wouldn’t tell me what, but I’m making his favorite casserole for dinner. Hopefully that will perk him up.” Bruce turns back to Dick, who hasn’t moved. “C’mon, Dickie. Sit up so I can see your face.” Reluctantly, Dick forces himself upright with one last groan into his pillow. His hair is mussed, standing up on one side. There’s a pillow crease on his cheek. He sits back against the sofa, miserable. “Better.” Bruce prods Dick’s ribs which earns him a giggle, goading the kid into sliding over a few inches so Bruce can sit beside him. Dick leans into his side immediately and Bruce puts his arm around him. “Now, tell me what’s got you down.” “I want to transfer schools.” “How come?” As far as he’s known until now, Dick has loved middle school. His childhood took a bad turn when his parents’ ropes snapped, but preteen life is at a good start. Until now. Dick’s gaze is trained on his sneakers, kicking them where they hang over the edge of the couch. “Some kids in my science class were talking crap about me.” “Don’t say crap.” “Can I go to a new school? Please?” “What did those kids say about you?” Dick picks at a dime-size hole in his jeans. “They called me gay,” he says quietly. Bruce tightens his arm around the boy, his heart panging. Of course someone had to bully Bruce’s kid. As if his life hasn’t already been hard enough without stupid teenagers making it worse. “I wasn’t even doing anything wrong. I was just talking to my lab partner, and the guys at the next table over started whispering about us. Then they started throwing papers.” “Did you tell the teacher?” “No. But I know she noticed. Everyone did. She just didn’t do anything about it.” That sets Bruce’s blood to a boil. Teachers have a responsibility to protect their students, no matter what. What gives her the right to turn a blind eye to bullying, just because a couple of students might not fit the agreed-upon standards of “perfect” upper class society? “I’ll set up an appointment with the principal,” Bruce decides. Dick’s eyes get wide. “Bruce, no. Please. It’s fine, really. I don’t want this to turn into a big deal.” “What did you do when it happened?” Dick shrugs. “Nothing. My lab partner stopped talking to me, so I just asked to go to the bathroom and didn’t come back until the bell rang.” Bruce sighs. Middle schoolers are the worst, every last one of them. (Except for Dick, of course; he is perfect.) “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Kids can be cruel—especially at your age, when they start learning new words that they don’t understand the way they should. They think some words are insults or something to be ashamed of when they’re not. Most kids grow out of this. Too many don’t.” “People suck,” Dick mutters. “I don’t even know why they were saying all that stuff. I’m not...I’m not like that” Bruce bites his cheek. He’s going to have to be careful about this. “Dick, do you know what being gay means?” “Duh. It’s when two guys date each other. I’m not stupid.” “I know you’re not stupid. But gay can mean a lot of things. Men can like other men, just as women can love other women. Like Kate, for instance. Then there are bisexual and pansexual people who love all genders, and asexuals who don’t like either.” Thank god Bruce thought ahead and read some LGBTQ+ research books all those years ago when he first began to suspect that Dick wasn’t heterosexual. “And transgender is when someone doesn’t identify with the gender they were assigned at birth. Sometimes people feel more like a man, a woman, neither, or both.” “...Okay?” “I just want to make sure you understand these things, because part of being a respectful person means respecting others for who they are. And if you don’t completely understand the label they identify as, then it’s your job to try and understand it the best you can.” “Why?” “Because too many people in this world judge others for things they can’t control, and that’s not right. No one should have to feel like they were born wrong. And I want to make sure you know this, that way you can be better than those who choose to hurt others for things they can’t control.” “Does that mean the guys who made fun of me are bad people?” “I’m sure they aren’t. They might just be confused because they don’t understand that being gay isn’t anything bad or dirty. The people in this part of Gotham...they don’t accept a lot of things. They think that being queer or a person of color means you don’t deserve respect, and that’s wrong. It was wrong of those kids to tease you and your lab partner the way they did.” Dick nods slowly. “I’m not gay.” “I know. I just want you to be aware of these things. And if you ever have questions or need to talk, you can always come to me.” He ruffles Dick’s hair. “Even when other people are nasty, remember that I love you no matter what, got it?” Dick shoves Bruce’s hand away and smoothes his hair back out, grinning. “Yeah, yeah. I got it.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Thirteen Years Old -

What’s the difference between a growth spurt and a shark?

Dick doesn’t have any sharks. “We’re home!” Dick announces. He and Alfred stumble into the house, their arms filled with all kinds of shopping bags. With Dick shooting up half an inch nightly these days, he’s growing out of his clothes at a rate even Bane would gawk at. Bruce and Alfred can barely keep up with the kid. “Want to see what I got?” “Show me, pal.” Bruce sets aside his tablet and pushes his reading glasses up on his head. (He does not have poor vision, thank you very much. Leslie just made him get a prescription as a precaution, that’s all. He’s still young by anyone’s standards, just ask Selina.) Dick starts pulling clothing out of the boutique bags, showing off every one of his new sweaters and pairs of Alfred-approved jeans. After ten minutes that Bruce desperately tries to look interested during, Dick pulls out what looks like a t-shirt that’s been sliced in half horizontally. The fabric is bright pink with a chibi whale on the front. “This one is my favorite,” Dicks says. His grin is blinding. Bruce stares for a long moment, his brain a lagging computer drive. “What is it?” “It’s a crop top. You know, like a belly shirt?” Memories from Dick’s Kim Possible phase flash in front of Bruce’s eyes. “Alfred let you buy that?” “Yeah?” Dick’s smile flags. He lowers the crop top, suddenly self-conscious. “Do you not...like it?” “You were supposed to get winter clothes, Dick. For cold weather.” “So?” “That’s clearly something you’re supposed to wear during the summer.” Dick pouts. “But I like it.” He holds it up against himself, twisting this way and that like an amateur model. “Sorry, kiddo. You’re not leaving the house in that until springtime.” “Oh, so Robin can wear tiny shorts in the winter, but Dick Grayson can’t wear a harmless crop top? I smell hypocrisy.” “Yes, because Robin has thermal leggings and a built-in heater in his uniform.” He looks back at the pink monstrosity, at Dick’s pleading eyes. “I would be open to negotiations if you’re willing to wear a sweater under it.” “That’s not how fashion works, B.” “I don’t care. You can wait until it gets warmer out to wear it.” “You’re such a drag,” Dick whines. He lifts his dozens of shopping bags and goes to leave, then turns right back around. “What if I wear a jacket over it and promise to keep it closed whenever I’m outside?” Bruce considers that. “Fine. But not below fifteen degrees, got it? And if I see you outside for even five seconds without the jacket, I’m confiscating the Xbox. Deal?” “Deal.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Fourteen Years Old -

Something is different about Dick today. You’d think his boots were made of helium with the way he floats through patrol, and then smiles into his late-night milkshake like it did his homework for him. Bruce sits beside his Robin on the roof of Wayne Tower, silent for as long as he can bear before he can’t hold it back any longer. “Did anything interesting happen today?” “Huh?” Dick looks up as if Bruce pried him and his thoughts apart with a crowbar. “You’ve been...different. Happy.” “Am I not usually happy?” “No, you are. Just seems like you’re...extra happy, for whatever reason.” A blush dusts the kid’s cheeks. He sips his chocolate shake and shrugs. “Dunno. It was just a good day. Nothing special.” Yeah, and Bruce is a goddamn unicorn. Still, he knows better than to pry where Dick doesn’t want him. It’s a delicate thing. “If you say so.” “I got a hundred on my English essay,” Dick offers. It’s a start. “Was that the one on Grapes of Wrath?” “That was last month. We’re on Animal Farm now. It’s not my favorite.” “Yeah, I wasn’t a fan of Orwell either. Shakespeare was okay, but I preferred his tragedies over his comedies.” “Of course you did.” That makes Bruce laugh. He’s not worried; the two of them are high enough that no one can hear it. Bruce even has his cowl down, his face exposed to the cool air. “They had quinoa burgers at the cafeteria today.” “Mm-hm.” Dick is dodging something, beating around whatever bush he wants to talk about. Bruce can be patient while he figures it out. “And I spent some time with Barbara after school.” “Oh?” “Yeah. We walked home together and we took this old path through the park. Then we kissed.” Bruce chokes on his milkshake. He coughs, his sinuses burning and eyes watering. When he recovers, he says, “That’s...that’s great, chum.” “Yeah.” Dick can’t stop smiling, a true schoolboy in love. “And she asked if I wanted to patrol with her tomorrow night, but I said I needed to check in with you first.” “I don’t see why not.” It’s not like Bruce hasn’t patrolled without Dick before. Sure, he misses the company on the few days a week he’s alone, but he’s not about to deny Dick the thing he clearly wants. “You sure? You look...freaked out.” “No, no. That’s...great, that you kissed. Congratulations.” Awkward. He’s so fucking awkward. Stop being awkward right now. He doesn’t know why this is messing with his head so drastically. Bruce has listened to Dick moon over girls for the entirety of his pubescence, talking about them like they’re goddesses he’s forbidden to look upon, Barbara included. And Bruce has seen the way Dick and Barbara interact with each other in between muggings, always talking with their heads bent close like they’re the only two people in the world. Who would have thought Batman could be a third wheel? “I’ve liked her for a while now, but I didn’t know if she liked me back and I was too nervous to ask.” Dick’s face goes even pinker. “Kissing her was cool.” Part of Bruce’s brain jumps at the realization that, holy shit, Dick just had his first kiss, my little boy is growing up, what a milestone. The other part is far less happy about this new development. Yes, Bruce has seen Dick win brawls with men three times his size. He can fly the Bat-jet on his own, knows six languages, and is even leading his own superhero team. And yet, all Bruce can think is, no, not my little boy, he’s just a baby, Batgirl is corrupting his innocence and She Must Be Stopped. With great effort, Bruce holds it all back. He’s read the parenting books, he knows that it’s important to be supportive when they’re at this age. “Good to hear. I’m happy for you.” He pats Dick on the shoulder. “Thanks, B.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Sixteen Years Old - “Hey, Bruce? Can I talk to you?” Bruce doesn’t look up from the metal flakes he’s testing. “What is it?” “I can come back later if you’re busy.” “No, I’m just analyzing some samples. I’m looking for residue from one of Zsasz’s blades.” Dick steps forward, tentative for once. “Need any help?” “I would like for you to come out with whatever it is you clearly need to tell me.” Dick snorts quietly. “Nice phrasing.” “What?” “I think I’m bisexual.” Bruce turns around, forgetting about the samples entirely. Dick’s arms are crossed over his chest, his eyes skipping between everything that isn’t Bruce’s face. At sixteen years old he’s finally tall enough that he doesn’t have to crane his neck to look at Bruce anymore. “You...think?” “I am. I’m bisexual.” “Okay.” “Is that cool with you?” The question shocks Bruce. “Of course it is.” Did Dick honestly think this would change anything? Has Bruce done something wrong, made Dick think that he wasn’t loved unconditionally? Dick squints, appraises Bruce’s reaction. “You knew, didn’t you.” “No.” “Bruce.” “I knew a little bit.” Dick rolls his eyes. The tension slips from his shoulders. His arms uncross. “Of course you did.” “Well, you weren’t exactly subtle about it.” “What the hell does that mean?” “Language,” Bruce chides, more out of habit than anything. “And do you realize how often you would come home after elementary school complaining about stupid pretty boys?” “That was just me being dramatic.” “I’m not disputing that. But they were still crushes, pal.” “I figured you thought it was just a phase.” Bruce shrugs. “Maybe for the first few days. But trust me, I have known you liked boys since you were a kid.” “Then why didn’t you just say so? It took me years to figure this all out, and you’re telling me you’ve been sitting on this info the whole time?” “Because this is your truth, not mine. I knew that you would tell me about it when you were ready. And you have.” Dick is clearly fighting a smile. He bites his lip instead, runs a hand through his mop of black hair that not even Alfred can wheedle him into combing anymore. “Well, I’m heading to the tower for the night, so don’t wait up, ‘kay? Kay. Good talk.” He goes to leave, but Bruce stops him. “Hang on. Why choose now to tell me?” Dick stuffs his hands in his pockets—an obvious tell. “No reason. I just...wanted you to know. Just in case.” “In case of what?” “Oh, you know.” Dick waves his hand in a gesture that clarifies absolutely nothing. “Life happens. People meet each other. You know how it is.” Bruce’s soul implodes. “You have a date?” “I never said that.” “You implied it.” “Real detectives rely on evidence, not theories.” Dick winks. “Tell me who it is. Are they a civilian? A hero? Do they come from a respectable family?” If it’s Roy Harper, Bruce might have to bury a body tonight. Especially after learning about Harper’s drug problem. Dick is too pure for someone like that. Or—heaven forbid—that Wally West kid. Dick is already walking away. “See ya, Bruce!” “You come back here, Richard John Grayson! Do I know him? Does he know your father is Batman?” Dick’s cackle echoes around the cave. “It had better not be a speedster!”

#soho speaks #batfamily #batfam #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #nightwing #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #this is so fluffy my teeth fell out in the first two paragraphs #bi dick grayson #bisexual dick grayson #bisexuality #gay #lgbtq

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broadstbroskis · 4 years

Text

drunk dial | auston matthews

a very long time ago, an anon sent me an ask with a prompt that was like “so we’re just ignoring the fact that you drunk dialed me to tell me you love me?” with auston and @nolypats and i have been chatting recently and, well this is finally completed

-----

It’s a typical Saturday night and the boys don’t have another game until Wednesday, somehow, someway, so you arrive at Scotiabank Arena dressed for the bar after and notice immediately that you aren’t the only one who’d made the choice to do so.

“Ohhh.” Steph runs her fingers along the sleeve of your leather jacket as soon as you slip into the seat beside her. “I love this! New?”

You nod at her, but are already busy gushing over her sweater to answer anything else about the jacket, which you’d openly lusted over for months before your best friend had surprised you with it for your birthday a few weeks ago, despite your insistence to Auston that it was too much.

Steph seems to have been waiting for you to arrive because as soon as you do, she flags down Alannah, who grins as soon as she sees you. “Wine o’ clock!” She cheers and you grin, standing and following the two of them to the closest spot in the club level for you each to get a glass.

It sets the tone for the evening, with the three of you giggly and tipsy by the time the game ends and you meet up with everyone in the lounge downstairs.

“Oh boy.” Zach’s eyes widen almost comically, when he’s the first one to approach the three of you, coming out of the locker room fresh off his shower. Alannah straight up squeals when she sees her husband, throwing her arms around him like she hasn’t seen him in days or weeks, instead of like five hours, and you give the reaction the giggles it deserves, hearing Steph join in right behind you. “Oh boy.” Zach repeats, looking between the three of you.

“What’s going on?” Mitch asks, appearing at his side, with Auston and Will right behind him.

“It’s wine o’ clock, bitch!” Steph cheers, erupting into a fit of giggles, and that’s the last thing you remember.

-----

Considering how much your head is pounding the next morning, you’re just happy to wake up in a bed, even if you know right away that it isn’t your own. It takes you a few minutes to open your eyes, but you breathe a sigh of relief when you do, taking in the familiar sights of one of Steph and Mitch’s guest rooms.

Poor Mitch. You bite back a laugh, taking your time to sit up at the edge of the bed, and a couple deep breaths as it makes your headache even worse. You might not remember last night, but you know from prior experience that having to wrangle a drunk you and Steph back here was no easy task for him. You owe him big time.

The two of them are both, unsurprisingly, already awake when you make your way downstairs, nursing large and larger cups of coffee. “Any more of that?” You ask hopefully, and Mitch snorts, while Steph points pathetically toward the counter.

There is, blessedly, a good portion of the pot still left, and still warm, and you pour it in a mug, hugging it toward your chest like the lifeline it’s about to be. “Sorry, Mitch.”

“You will be when you see the pictures.” Mitch says cheerfully, way too cheerfully for this early in the morning, especially considering how hungover you are.

You groan immediately, noticing Steph’s done the same only after she bangs her head against the counter and follows it with a soft, “Ow.”

“Where’s my phone?” You whine reluctantly. You might as well get the roast over with.

Your phone is hiding in the blankets of the bed you’d slept in, almost dead, where you’d apparently just thrown it at some point. Steph’s already back in the kitchen when you make your way down, her face paling even as she occasionally laughs at whatever she’s scrolling through.

Your own phone has more than a few messages with pictures from last night, as well as a few more chats that are blowing up with texts this morning, commenting from last night, but there’s one message that catches your eye.

It’s from Auston, separate from any of the group chats, and it catches your eye because it’s just...not like a usual text he’d send you? you good? is the only thing he’s sent, no emojis, nothing, and it’s strange enough that you ignore the other incoming texts to explore through your phone a little to see what you could have done to get a text like that.

Instagram and Snapchat both yield nothing- embarrassing videos, sure, but nothing overly terrible- and the photos making their way through the texts are the same, but your call log is another story.

“Shit.” You groan, swiping back into your messages with your best friend.

“What?” Steph asks.

“I called Auston, like, ten times last night.” You tell them, more focused on texting him. i’m sorryyyyy. didn’t mean to keep you up

it’s good. He sends back a few minutes later, and you frown, because as cool and chill as he might pretend to be, he’s not, and this is strange.

couch movie day? You ask him. The coffee has done the trick; you at least feel like you could move, and there’s no better way to spend a hungover Sunday than with your best friend, lounging on his supremely comfortable couch. i’ll even agree to football if that’s what you so desire.

yeah alright, that sounds good. It’s punctuated with the fingers forming the ok sign emoji,though, and that, at least, is close enough to normal that you smile. You must have kept him up later than you even realized with your calls, for him to be so short with you.

“Alright lovelies.” You suck down the last bit of coffee and address your hosts. “Thanks for the bed last night. I owe you big time, Mitch.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll come collecting!” He teases.

“Headed to Auston’s though.” You press a kiss to Steph’s head and then Mitch’s as well. “Comfy sweats and a couch calling my name.”

——-

When you let yourself into your best friend’s place, it comes as almost no surprise to find a giant ginger sitting at the counter. “Freddie!” You beam, throwing your arms around him and regretting it pretty quickly, once your head starts to pound again. He starts to squeeze you, returning the hug, but you shake your head quickly. “Nope, don’t do that.”

“Alright, fair enough.” He laughs. “So rough night last night, huh?”

You level him with a look but he barely even blinks, and you sigh. “Where’s Auston?”

“Right here.” Your best friend is still shirtless as he walks out of his bedroom, yanking some ridiculous graphic tee over his head as he gets closer, which gives you the second you need to look away and take a breath after even just that tiny minute of exposure. Auston’s abs are honestly unfair and they are, objectively, not even his best feature. “Hey.” He gives you a nod, fixing the glasses he tries to pretend he’s too cool to actually need, refusing to wear them outside the house unless absolutely necessary, and you grin back; as annoyed as he may have seemed over text, he’s not acting that way at all now.

“Is there coffee made?” You ask hopefully. Auston rolls his eyes at you, but nods over at his absurdly fancy machine, the one that had taken you about three months to figure out how to use. “Sweet, you’re amazing. I’m stealing that and then going to steal some sweats, okay?” You don’t even wait for him to respond, knowing it’ll be fine. Precedent is on your side here. Instead, you reach for a mug and address Freddie instead. “Fred, you joining?”

“Nah.” Freddie says, surprising you a bit. You’ve never known him to turn down a lazy Sunday. “You two have fun.” He says, giving you a knowing glance, which means he definitely caught you looking at Auston earlier, and it’s only the fact that Auston is standing right there that stops you from flipping Fred off on his way out the door.

It figures Freddie’s freaky goalie powers would be working now. Catches onto your more-than-best-friends-feelings for Auston, sure, but too oblivious to notice the hot neighbor in his building he’s crushing on is practically in love with him. Good one, Fred.

It’s barely a minute after Freddie clears out that you slip past Auston to go change, bringing your coffee mug along with you and reaching for your favorite pair of sweatpants the minute you enter his room. They’re old and perfectly worn, from his first year in the league, too small for Auston now, but just large enough for you to feel cozy in. One of his comfier sweatshirts completes your outfit for the day. Auston might be able to survive the day in a t-shirt, always radiating heat even as he complains about the Toronto cold, but fuck that, you were ready to be comfortable and nap through an afternoon of American football.

Auston is already settled on the couch and if you weren’t so hungover, you’d throw yourself on him, just to be obnoxious, but as it is, you settle slowly onto the cushions beside him, and then lower your head to rest in his lap, frowning to yourself when you feel him tense.

But it happens so quick; one minute his quads are tight underneath you and the next he’s relaxed again, you find yourself wondering if you imagined the entire thing. Maybe he wasn’t even annoyed with you this morning either; maybe you were just projecting your annoyance at the entire world onto him.

His hand moves to your hair, just like it always would, and you decide your hangover must have you paranoid. “How’s your fantasy team going to do today?” You mumble, already ready to fall back asleep.

Auston hums. “Good, I think. I play Willy this week and he’s a fucking disaster.” You giggle into his lap; his hand stills for a second, but then goes right back to playing with your hair. “Hey, uh, you-” Auston starts, but whatever he says next goes unheard by you, as you give into the sleep that’s been ready to overtake you since you settled onto his lap only moments ago.

-----

It’s hours later when you come to again and you only know this because whatever football game Auston has on is well into the second half.

It takes you a few minutes to wake up again, slowly coming out of your sleepy state, before you realize that Auston’s talking to someone- quietly, but talking pretty freely- and it’s actually this that’s what has woken you up.

“Yeah it’s-” Auston cuts off frustratedly. He sounds kind of like he wants to be pacing but your head is still in his lap and his hand has moved from your hair to rest on your shoulder, brushing gentle strokes over the curve of it. “I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

Ohhh, juicy. You don’t want to listen in on Auston’s conversation; you know he’ll bring it up to you when he’s ready, but well, it’s hard not to. You can’t get up without alerting him that you’re awake already. You shut your eyes again tightly, focus on your breathing, and try to fall back asleep, but he’s talking again. “You don’t just get the fuck over that, Fred.” He hisses and ohhh, that sounds angry. You wonder what could have possibly happened to make him sound like that; the two of them never fight. “I would have gotten over her already if I could.”

And that’s the end of that for you. You’re already feeling sick enough today before hearing Auston and Fred talk about one of Auston’s girls. You squeeze your eyes closed tightly and re-double your efforts on trying to fall back asleep, concentrating on blocking out the sound of his voice.

It works a lot better when you focus on how his hand feels on your shoulder, but it still feels like taking the L.

-----

The second time you wake that afternoon is much smoother. Your headache is basically gone, but the tradeoff is Auston’s thumb digging into your upper trap, which you ease off. “Sorry.” He winces, soothing that spot immediately and you don’t have to look up at the TV to know the Raiders have just done something terrible for his well being.

“I’m hungry.” You whine at him and he laughs.

“Two minutes.” He responds, checking the time, which of course, turns into more like five, because the difference between “football time” and “real time” is fucking riduclous, but when the half does end, you sit up, the two of you swiping between food delivery apps to decide on dinner for the evening.

When you look up from your phone, Auston’s looking at you with a soft smile, that one you can’t let yourself look at for too long. “I’m gonna shower real quick, if you don’t mind?”

You’re already standing before he answers, but he nods, smile fading from his face a little. “Yeah, go for it.”

“Thanks.” You call, already moving towards the master bath, ready to steal a second pair of sweats for the day.

The shower is the distraction that you need, the step away from that smile that’s too close to everything that you want. The large walk-in a scalding reminder of every other girl who may have been in this position, of the girl who Auston wants to keep around in this position, the one girl who’s managed to do the thing hundreds of girls in Toronto thought was impossible. Auston’s soap smells bitter today, as you lather yourself in it, wondering how you became one of those girls.

You must have taken longer than you thought in the shower because the food’s arrived when you come back out. Auston’s unpacking the takeout bags onto the coffee table, with utensils ready. “Ohh, smells good.” You tug the long sleeves of his shirt over your hands, settling into the couch next to him again and watching him spread your takeout favorites out in front of the two of you. “Thank you.

Auston hums in response, passing you over your favorite dish ordered, the one that you love and he hates, and you only kind of watch him make a plate for himself, a mish-mash of options from the rest of the meals that you’d ordered, more focused on the plate of food in front of you, which is maybe why it’s a total surprise when he says, “We’re really just going to ignore you drunk-dialling me to tell me you love me?”

You choke. “What?”

Auston pales. “Uhh.” He freezes; his fork’s halfway to his mouth, but you can’t even chirp him for how lame he looks right now and it’s not even just because you apparently did something a hundred times more stupid.

No, it’s because your mind is racing at the fact that you did do something a hundred times more stupid last night and you can’t even put together a coherent thought about that, let alone anything else. No fucking wonder he’s been strange all day.

“Uh.” Auston repeats. “You know what? Don’t worry about it.”

“Absolutely not!” You protest, words finally coming back to you. “What the fuck? God, I’m so sorry!”

And somehow, that makes this worse? Auston’s shoulder’s tense, he looks extremely interested in his food suddenly. “I mean, it’s cool.” He shrugs, acting again too chill for the situation.

It’s a long moment before you respond, trying to gather your thoughts before you say something you don’t mean. “Is it though? Because you’ve been weird all day and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but, like, I can’t take it back now. So the best I can do is leave and like, let me know if you want to talk about it ever and promise not to make things super weird everytime I see you if you don’t want to talk about it.” You don’t realize you’ve stood up at some point in this chat, but Auston still hasn’t responded, and well, maybe it’s for the best that you’ve stood.

You turn to leave, only for him to tug you back gently toward him, but he either pulls harder than he thinks or you’re just not expecting the tug, and you land in his lap instead of the couch. It’s hardly a graceful fall, with Auston having to loop his free hand behind your back to catch you, your nose bumping against his shoulder on the way down, and your legs folding under you unnaturally until you squirm around to fix them.

Auston’s barely breathing when you finally look up at him, a little annoyed that he’s still acting weird after what you said. “Could you-” He trails off. “Just sit still for a second please?” You give him a look, but settle down, stopping your movements, and he takes a deep breath, relaxing, finally. “I’m sorry if I’ve been weird all day, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you telling me you loved me.”

You huff at him, annoyed and ready to climb off his lap to storm out, but he tightens his grip on you, like he knows what you’re thinking. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I swear, I’m not!” His thumb slides up to brush a spot of skin between the waistband of the sweatpants and the oversized shirt. “I haven’t been about to stop thinking about that, and then you came in here, looking like you always do, in my clothes all day, and I’ve been trying so fucking hard not to ruin shit between us for months now,” Your eyes widen and your jaw drops as everything starts coming together. “Until last night, when you called me and left me that message and I thought maybe we were on the same page…”

“Except I didn’t remember doing it.” It pains you to even say it; you hate that he’s been feeling uncertain throughout the entire day. Uncertain and unsure and just...hanging. “Auston-” You reach your hand out to brush against his cheek.

“You didn’t even mention it.” He says. “Not in your texts, not once you got here. I thought...I thought you just wanted to carry on with things as normal, that you regretted saying it, or wanted to take it back completely?” He shakes his head, like he’s clearing his thoughts, but you don’t let him move away, putting your hand right back on his cheek.

“I mean, I wish I remembered saying it.” You tell him softly. “But I don’t think I’ll ever regret loving you.”

“Good.” Auston says firmly, and you barely have time to grin in response to that before he’s tugging you closer in his lap and kissing you soundly.

#auston matthews imagine #auston matthews fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #my hockey fics

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Confidentiality - Chapter 1: The Conference Call

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Four months. Four long months that she’s been hiding in lockdown. So when everything starts to go back to normal again, she’s going back to work as Jensen’s handler for the first Supernatural convention after the pandemic.

Chapter Warnings: A little angst, a dash of fluff

WC: 1703

A/N: For this fic, let’s pretend Jensen is single and the pandemic was over and done with after four months. Also I’m sorry ugh, it’s been a while since I wrote Jensen.

Beta’d by: @dean-winchesters-bacon <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

It’s Monday and Y/N is sitting in a darkened room as she starts up her laptop for today’s work meeting. She had drawn the blinds already, hiding her surroundings from her workmates.

The light on the nightstand illuminates the room enough for the people in the video call to see her features. That’s all they need to see, really.

Logging onto her laptop with her password, she clicks open the email client, and selects her calendar. The cursor travels over the highlighted block and she clicks on it, searching for the login link to the Zoom meeting.

It’s 4.56 PM, she still has four minutes left. Wonders if she should click on the link and let the computer connect or if she should wait. She’d hate to be one of the first ones because that’s always awkward. She would spend time talking nonsense with whoever was as eager as her to join a meeting too soon.

4.58 PM. Now is a good time, probably. Not too early and she’d hate even more to be the last one.

Moving her mouse over the link, she clicks on it and a window with the meeting pops open. There’s another click and then she’s there, her laptop camera lights up with a green light, signaling that she too can be seen.

Seeing herself on screen is not something she enjoys. She nervously rights her hair, arranges it so nobody will notice the hickey that she tried to hide with concealer ten minutes before. It’s a fresh one, one he just gave her an hour ago, even though he knew full well that she’s going to have a meeting. It's her own fault because she had let him, always gets so fucking weak when he nibbles at her throat.

Y/N joins as the six people are talking about something. Nonsense, she guesses. She doesn’t really listen.

There should be ten people in the meeting to discuss the upcoming Supernatural Convention. The first convention after the lockdown.

“Hi,” she says and waves, because that’s what every newcomer does and she’s greeted with Hello’s and Hi’s back.

But there’s one guy already sitting in there, looking like he owns the whole fucking internet, and she doesn’t know how he does it with the lighting but he looks downright pretty. It’s not really fair.

“Hey, Y/N,” Jensen greets her by name. Of course he does, because he likes to rile her up. He’s also the only one who’s so abso-fucking-lutely cheery. “How are you?”

She smirks, “I’m fine, thank you. I hope you are too.”

Keeping it professional, that’s what she can and will do.

“Good,” Jensen nods and opens his mouth to say something more but he gets cut off by her boss who’s taking the lead.

Y/N doesn’t say much, doesn’t have anything to say anyway during the first ten minutes of the conversation. Lowering her face, she takes notes because it’s a prep meeting where they get informed how it will work out and to see how the spirit of the people involved is for the upcoming convention — which she’s really excited about. It has been a while.

Jensen and Jared do a lot of talking, as they want to know the details on how to make the experience great for the fans after everyone’s been holed up for so long. And she loves that. She always loved how they actually really care, unlike other show’s leads. There are some points that still need to be talked through and Y/N just sits back and watches. She could watch Jensen talk for days, it’s really mesmerizing.

His hair is long, his beard too. Jensen’s new look is completely different from Dean. It makes him look softer, and rounds up the edges of his jawline. The graying of his beard doesn’t make him less attractive, and that’s also something that she thinks it’s unfair. She hopes they will let him keep it for the convention. Hopes that he won’t let them talk him out of it because ‘some fans might want to meet Dean and not Jensen’. It’s going to be another month until they go back to filming, so it’s actually feasible. She’s sure that apart from a select few, the majority of fans would love to take a photo with this look and she can’t blame them one bit.

It’s going to be weird when the look is gone. Honestly, she needed some time to get used to it herself, but it has really grown on her. Maybe she’ll mourn the loss — just a little.

“So, let’s recap,” Gina, her boss, says and Y/N snaps her mind back to reality, “Jared’s flying in on Friday already because you want to visit some friends, right?”

“Correct,” Jared nods his head in approval. “You did book the hotel for three nights for me, right?” The question is directed to her co-worker, Julian, who’s responsible for the boys' travel arrangements.

“Yeah, I did,” Julian says with a nod of his head.

Gina nods, “Good, so Jensen, I see that you’re flying in on Saturday evening as per usual?”

“Yes.” Jensen says. He looks into his screen and licks his lips. She hates that she knows that he’s looking at her.

“I want you girls to be there on Friday evening at the latest? We’ll also go for dinner on Saturday and go over the Sunday schedule.”

“Uh, yes. I’ll be there,” Hannah and Kristin say in unison. Kristin is responsible for Misha but since Misha is also attending Sunday, she sits into the meeting as a formality.

That’s Y/N’s cue.

“I-I’m, uh, sorry, I’m still in the middle of booking my flight but yeah, I’ll be there on Friday.”

It was a huge issue with Jensen and they’d argued today about the flight. He doesn’t want her to leave until the last possible minute but now she has the confirmation that she has to be there on Friday already.

She sees Jensen raising an eyebrow and hates him for it because he distracts her.

“Okay,” her boss nods, “Jared and Jensen, I’ll have someone picking you up.”

Jared smiles, “Okay.”

“Great,” Jensen huffs out. She can see that he’s a little irritated about something.

The others don’t seem to have noticed, but she does. Jared notices as well, but apart from him clearing his throat, he doesn’t say a word.

“Right, I need to hurry to another meeting. Boys, I’ll see you Sunday!” Gina addresses the boys before waving goodbye, and disconnects. People in the meeting follow her and disappear one by one.

Y/N too, disconnects and is about to shut down her laptop when a skype call interrupts her.

Ugh.

It’s Jensen.

As soon as she picks up, her screen lights up and the view of his face almost blinds her. Honestly, it’s like staring into the sun. Nonetheless, she rolls her eyes because of the things he pulled in the meeting.

“Why are you rolling your eyes at me?” He asks, seemingly oblivious.

She groans with another eye roll, “Because you tried to distract me the entire conference call!”

“Excuse me? I wasn’t the one who was trying to undress you with my eyes.”

Y/N cocks an eyebrow, frowning at him. There’s a beat of silence until he groans.

“Fine, alright, I did. Sorry, okay? And why didn’t you say that we’re going to fly in together on Saturday like we said we would?” There’s something about the way he looks and she detects disappointment.

“As far as I remember, we did not settle on that because you ended up distracting me again and gave me a fucking hickey. And besides,” she sighs, “Nobody should know.”

“Would it really be so bad, Y/N?”

“Jensen, are we really going to have this conversation over Skype?”

“Fine,” he scoffs and stands up abruptly, walking out of the frame.

Great.

Abandoning her laptop, Y/N proceeds to walk to the window to open up the blinds again. Walking back, she switches off the only other light source, and as if on cue, the door opens.

“Shall we have the conversation face to face instead?” Jensen asks as he barges in, walks to the bed of his guest room, and sits down. He rubs a hand through his long hair, scratches at his beard before he looks at her.

“I rather not have it at all, but yet here we are, huh?” She strides over to stand in front of him and Jensen looks up, his features are so fucking soft, it makes her weak.

“Why don’t you want them to know? And I’m sure they would let it slide if you flew in on Saturday instead of Friday. You’re only responsible for me anyway and we’re a good team.” His hand reaches out for her, tugs at her wrist, uses his strength to pull her onto the bed with him.

Y/N lands on her back with a squeal and Jensen takes the opportunity, looming over her and looking down at her. Her hand goes up, strokes his hair back, fingertips tracing along his beard.

“Because the only reason I’m still employed is because you let them put in the contract that you want me as your handler and no one else. They would absolutely hate it if they found out I was fucking their talent.”

Jensen chuckles, his nose touching hers, “That’s not true.”

“What’s that?”

“If anything, it’s me fucking you.” His irresistible smile makes Y/N melt a little before he kisses her.

He lingers too long, kisses her too softly, too sweetly, knowing what effect his kisses have on her.

Pushing at his chest, she makes him break the kiss, “I should look for a flight.”

“No,” he chuckles and pecks her lips.

“Jensen!”

“Okay, fine,” he pushes himself up, “but only because I have an interview scheduled.”

Right, he does. It’s going to be an hour long.

“You want me to make dinner to have it ready when you’re finished?” She asks while she sits up and walks over to her laptop.

“Nah, I’ll eat you,” Jensen winks before he walks out.

Chapter 2

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#confidentiality #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fan fic #jensen ackles fan fiction #jensen ackles series #nathalie writes

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ggukkiedae · 3 years

Text

[vlive 210522] Seri’s Seritonin 🥝🐱

9pm kst

italics = english; seri answering questions!

the vlive starts with seri logging on and waving

she’s playing new rules in the background and staying quiet for the first two minutes

“moa! how are you all?”

she smiles and reads through the comments

she reads a few out loud and sees a few comments asking her to say i love you in different languages, to which she complies to

she turns off her music first and fixes herself in her chair

“bet you guys are wondering why i’m live today, huh? we’ll get to that in a bit. for now, let’s answer questions”

she looks through the comments carefully until she reads one out loud

Seriiiiiii! 5 Beomgyus or 5-year-old Beomgyu?

she laughs at this

“maybe a five year old bammie. he always makes a big deal of being older than me by a few months, so it would be good pay back”

she then pulls out her phone and scrolls through it before turning it towards the screen. it was a picture of beomgyu as a kid

“see this? he sent this to our groupchat the other day. tiny gyu is cute”

how are youuuuuu?

she claps her hands together and smiles at the live

“i’m doing great, thank you! i’ve been practicing harder, and i feel pretty good”

she scrolls through the comments again and takes a sip of her drink. she lightly mixes her drink around and places it back down

“you guys should try peach tea. it’s a godsend. oh, what’s this?”

shall we go on a date?

“you didn’t turn up at our last date”

she pouted a little and laughed

“i waited at the rooftop for a while, but you didn’t show up! but i guess we can go again because you’re moa”

she shifts a little and shakes her head amusedly at her own words

“do i sound like gyu?”

Hi Seri! I have a couple questions 😊 What has been your favorite era music wise and style wise? What hair style/color do you want to try? What's your current favorite song? What are you looking forward to most?

her eyes widened a little before she looks up trying to come up with answers to the series of questions

“oh, wow, i guess you could say i really liked our songs from the minisode album, but my favorite title track is run away for sure. actually, i take that back. i like the songs on dream chapter magic the most! in terms of style... dream chapter magic as well! i really like new rules’ styling especially”

a small smile makes its way to her face as she’s about to answer the last question from that comment

“right now, i’m really looking forward to our new album, and i hope you’ll like it as well! so far, the tracks are amazing!”

any plans for a comeback with the royals?

“i don’t know” she laughs and looks off camera “what do you think?”

yoonmi’s giggle can be heard while seri just laughed

“you exposed me! anyway, we’ll see when the three of us get an opportunity again” “you guys heard yoonmi”

seri takes the live and points it to the side, revealing the magenta-haired girl peacefully sitting in the dance studio near her while working on something on her laptop

“yoonmi is working on school stuff even if she just released a song yesterday” “responsibilities”

Seri baby are you aware that Seri sounds like berry? Therefore you are now berry Seri or Seri Berry 🤔

“oh, that’s cute! seri berry... i love it! i’m a berry now! i can replace strawberries, i don’t like strawberries”

she wrinkled her nose at the thought of the red berries as the sound of a chair moving came up. seri looked off camera and waved to, supposedly, yoonmi

“yoonmi has a meeting right now, so she’s off. anyway, back to our live”

Hiya Seri how are you liking the new building? What do you think has changed the most about you since you became an idol? And out of the members who do you think has changed most since you debuted?

“the new building is actually the best thing ever, i swear! there’s a lot of space, and the facilities are all high quality! honestly, i’m the only txt member who doesn’t get lost, so it’s pretty funny when the others have to ask for my help to walk around”

she then pressed her lips into a tight line while thinking about her next answer

“since becoming an idol... i think i became more confident. the others tell me this a lot. they say every comeback my stage presence gets better, and i look more comfortable? i also became a better dancer for sure. not the best yet, but i’m working on it. also maybe kai? first of all, he’s gotten way taller now. second, he’s been more mature. yes, he’s still our baby, but he handles things a lot more maturely now. sometimes he acts like he’s older than me as well”

hi bestieeeeeee! what do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t an idol?

“hey, bestie! musical theatre for sure!”

seri immediately perked up at this. she jumped back in her seat a little with the biggest grin while remembering her experiences

“i loved it back in school! honestly, my parents were pretty supportive about my involvement in theatre and my little brother kinda brags to his friends that his sister goes on stages to perform. it’s kinda cute”

would you consider acting? or maybe starring in a musical?

“oh for sure if i were given the chance!”

you dance amazingly! your artist of the month video with studio choom was absolutely perfect!!!!

“oh my god”

she covered her face and groaned before pulling out her phone and looking for the video on youtube. before pressing play, she looked back to the camera

“thank you, but i’m a little embarrassed about this. i wore red lipstick on stage for the first time after debut, and i showed a side of me that’s pretty different…”

she pressed play and watched the video, cringing at herself. it took a whole 20 seconds before she gave up and hid her phone behind her

“nope. nevermind, i can’t watch that. thank you, i’m glad you enjoyed it”

thoughts on the people you’re being shipped with? 👀

she burst into laughter upon reading this

“ah, yes. shipping. i see you guys on stan twitter with your little edits and headcanons and aus! honestly, it’s amusing. apparently most of you ship me with gyu and seungmin? and a few other people, too?”

she was quiet for a while like thinking about who moas shipped her with. she shook her head with and began talking again

“gyu... well, bammie’s my best friend, and i love him a lot. it’s been us from the very beginning, so i like to think we’ll be as close as ever until the end”

“seungmin is the bane of my existence”

she laughed at this before waving her hand

“kidding! he’s actually really nice, and i love hanging out with him, it just so happens our friendship is based on bickering. we do support each other though. seungmin, if you see this, you did well on love poem”

she then lit up as if just remembering something

“some of you guys ship me with chaeryoung! interesting considering you all see me as ryujin’s sibling, but please, i’m not worthy of the queen herself. i love chae with all my heart honestly she’s such a sweet child”

her phone buzzed and she glanced at it a little bit before turning back to the live

“perfect timing because hyunsuk just messaged me and some special ship mentions are hyunsuk and jeno oppa. i think it’s because i hang out with hyunsuk’s little siblings a lot. but jeno oppa? we just met earlier this year, it’s a little funny how apparently a lot of people ship us when we haven’t really shown our friendship much”

she typed something one her phone before chuckling and shutting it off once again. she looked through the comments until she found the topic she was looking for

What’s up with you and Dino? 👀👀👀

“ah, this. this brings me to the reason i went live. recently, you guys have seen me and dino oppa hanging out, right? well, we’re not dating. i wanted it to be a surprise, but he’s helping me with something for my birthday, and i agreed to do something with him for their youtube as well”

her phone rang, and she laughed before picking it up and putting it on speaker

“hello? you’re on speaker” “seri-yah! how dare you deny our relationship?” “oh? you’re watching?” “look up, stupid. i’m standing by the door”

she looked off camera and laughed

“yah! oppa, what are you doing here?” “miya told me you were gonna talk about the scandal, so i thought why not come early?”

dino appears next to seri in a mask and a hat. he nudged seri over to the side so they could both be centered on screen, making her raise her eyebrow at him

“meet my new dance partner” dino points towards seri whose eyes widen as soon as he said that

“they don’t know yet!” “you said we were working on two things together!” “but they didn’t know one of them is dance!” “might as well tell them so we can clear up this rumor before i get attacked by moas”

she sighed at him

“i’d get attacked by carats. anyway, fine. dino oppa’s helping me with a song, and he’s making me dance with him for a video. you can look forward to this in july”

dino adjusted his hat and leaned forward a little

“no need to panic, we’re not in a romantic relationship. she’s too tall for me”

“... you’re literally taller than me though?” “not by that much. if you wear heels, we’d be the same height, and i don’t think i’m up for that”

she playfully rolled her eyes

“looks like i’ve discussed what needed to be cleared up now. i’m single. single.” “yes, they get the point” “oh, would you just go already?”

she was pretending to push him away while he laughed at her failed attempts. he moved off camera but stays in the room

“no way, we’ve got to work the choreography out today”

“this is gonna be a while,” she muttered before smiling at the live once again “well, time for me to go. i’ve got a lot of work to do to be on par with a member of seventeen’s performance team”

dino’s groaning could be heard from the side

“this again?”

she laughed

“bye moa! hopefully that cleared things up, and hopefully you enjoyed this little tmi session”

-end-

#seri.live #seri.freeze #txt 6th member #txt female member #txt female addition #seri #yoon seri

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the-gay-prometheus · 3 years

Text

Frankenstein AU Segment - “The Reunion”

Oh hey- it’s been a minute since I last posted one of these, huh?

As I’ve kinda been alluding to, this isn’t the segment that I’ve been needing to write, but it’s the one I felt like writing over the past few days. So it just so happens that for once in my life, I’ve actually written something chronologically relevant to the last segment I posted! As in... this literally takes place almost directly after “Willful Disobedience.”

I’ll admit I kinda rushed the ending of this one a bit, and I think it shows, but it does what it needs to do so I’m just gonna keep it as is for now.

I can’t think of any serious warnings necessary for this one, but feel free to ask me to add warnings/warning tags if you see anything that you think should be warned about!

As always, likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are appreciated and encouraged!

It was a nightmare that awoke him that dreary, stormy night. Though he knew logically that there was nothing to fear, now that the thing he had created had been missing for at least four months, still he couldn’t help but feel those same eyes watching him from the shadows. Shuddering at the thought of that disturbing dark-lipped grin and the strange garbled sounds that had roused him from his slumber on the fateful night of its creation, he lay awake in bed and stared up at the ceiling. “You have nothing to fear,” he muttered aloud, repeating the phrase in his mind hoping that maybe if he said it enough times, it would be true. Yet a sudden bolt of lightning and crash of thunder caused him to yelp and hide under the covers, trembling in a cold sweat. Only one thought eased his troubled mind, and though he resented the idea of once again bothering Henry so late at night, he felt he might go mad if he stayed in his room alone for any longer.

When he silently opened the door to Henry’s room, he fully expected to find him asleep - instead, Henry was sitting upright with his journal and quill in hand. He had been staring out into the storm, but as Victor opened his door his attention snapped away. Though at first he appeared surprised, the expression of shock faded into one of concern. “Another nightmare?” he asked quietly, shutting his journal and setting it along with his quill aside. Victor didn’t answer, simply nodding silently while standing shakily in the doorway. Henry moved over on the bed, and gently pat the place beside him, gesturing for his dear friend to come sit with him. Victor unsteadily strode over, sitting in the place beside Henry but turning his face away. “Do you… want to talk about it?” Victor shook his head, clinging to himself and holding back tears. “Is there anything I can do other than just… be here?” There was no reply from Victor except a sniffle and a shrug of his shoulders. The pouring rain pounded at the glass of the window like some unwanted stranger begging to be let in, a deafening sound in a moment of silence between the two of them. “Would it… help to be held?” Victor gripped at himself tighter and clenched his eyes shut, shuddering as he nodded. When he felt the warm embrace of Henry’s freckled arms wrapping gently around him, something inside him shattered and he burst into a fit of sobs. Henry gripped him tighter, hushing him softly as he wept. Another roar of thunder caused Victor to jump and grab hold of Henry, clinging to him as though his life depended on it. They stayed tangled in each other's arms until Victor’s sobs turned to quiet sniffles, and the rain turned from violent downpour to a gentle, steady fall. When Henry released him, he sat back and reached out, carefully wiping the tears from Victor’s pale cheeks. “Better?” he asked with a kind smile and compassionate gaze. Victor nodded, sheepishly smiling himself, though his smile quickly faded and he shuddered at the thought of once again being alone with his thoughts.

“Better for now, yes, but... would you mind if I stayed the night?” he asked, his voice still hoarse from crying.

“Not at all! Bring a blanket and make yourself at home-” He paused, his eyes suddenly filled with concern. “Are you ok going back and grabbing one on your own or…”

“I’ll be fine,” Victor answered, waving his hand dismissively and hopping down from the bed.

What happened then was a blur, a faded memory with only fragments remaining. He ran after exiting Henry’s room, back to his own to quickly grab his favorite wool blanket and nearly panicked at the sound of a tree branch tapping and scraping at his window, Somehow from there he ended up back in Henry’s room, making a cozy nest for himself on the floor where he decided he would sleep for the night - complete with extra pillows that Henry provided him with, and it was there with his blanket wrapped tightly around himself that his eyes began to close. When they opened, however, he was no longer on the floor but instead lying in bed next to Henry, who slept soundly with his face turned away. Victor’s eyes opened wide at the sudden realization that somehow, in his sleep, he must have climbed up into the bed. As he tried to remember why or how it happened, his memory flashed with tiny glimpses at some other horrifying nightmare, and he realized all at once that in his fright he must have come to Henry for comfort, only to find him sleeping. He stirred, slowly trying to move toward the edge of the bed, but as he shifted, Henry turned in his sleep, now facing him, and he froze. Unwilling to wake his host, Victor lay perfectly still, moving only to shift back to laying with his eyes to the ceiling. He stared upward, but he felt no fear there lying next to Henry. His breathing was slow, his heart calm, and his mind at peace. Yet still, he found himself entirely unable to sleep. Henry shifted and murmured something beside him that sounded like it might have been a name - his name. Victor turned his face toward him, partially curious to see if Henry had awoken or was beginning to wake, and soon turned his entire body on his side to face him as he realized his eyes were still closed and his expression was that of someone peacefully sound asleep.

Something about that moment took Victor’s breath away. He had long known that what he felt when he was with his dear friend was something far deeper than a general platonic affection, but the pieces of his affections suddenly seemed to click together as they lay together in simple silence. His brown eyes began to well with tears once again. “I have searched so long for greatness and power, hoping that it might fill some final void within me,” he whispered, though he knew Henry couldn’t hear him, “yet all this time, all I needed to feel whole was this - just to be here, just to be with you.” He turned himself onto his back again, staring upward as tears slowly streamed down his face. “Why can we not just stay like this? Why can we not just be this - be us?” His gaze fell back onto Henry, and he felt a dull pain from deep within him that throbbed with every beat of his heart. “Would you even want that? Or is this wrong? Am I wrong?” Henry shifted in his sleep, and it seemed for a moment that his eyes might dare to blink open, which frightened Victor into silence at the thought that he may have just bore his entire soul to his most trusted friend. He didn’t wake, though, instead simply heaving a soft sigh in his slumber as he went entirely still once again. The sky outside began to lighten as the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon and filtered through the window, some soon resting upon the fiery waves of Henry’s hair and revealing the dormant ember-like brightness that had been concealed by the darkness of night. As dawn passed, Victor stayed staring at his dearest friend’s fair face, and as he stared he reached out, tracing the air over a cluster of freckles with a smile. “Andromeda,” he breathed, recognizing the latest in a series of constellations he had discovered over the years. He wanted so badly just to reach a little further and touch him, as though he were afraid that maybe it was all some illusion, some cruel trick that he could be so close and yet so far from where he wanted to be - from who he wanted to be. Instead he retracted his hand with a gentle sigh and lay there in silent wonder, letting his mind wander with visions of what could be, or what could have been. Henry stirred beside him once again, his eyelids twitching. Victor felt himself freeze again. What would he say? What would he do? Would he be angry? Would he pull him closer? Would he do nothing at all? From the corner of his eye he caught sight of a tall shadow on the wall beyond, looming ominously. He felt his stomach churn and his heart race with both fury and fear, until suddenly everything stopped. Everything was still - too still. “This isn’t right,” he whispered to himself. “He wasn’t there.” Just as Henry’s eyes slowly opened, he blinked.

Tiny shafts of sunlight filtered through miniscule cracks in the wooden log walls, illuminating particles of dust that floated through the air. Victor squinted as his eyes opened. For a moment, he smiled, half expecting Henry’s hazel eyes to be gazing back at him, but instead there was the bare wood of the cabin walls and the small stream of light that aligned directly with his sight and blinded him despite its meager size. He pulled his wool blanket over his face with a groan to block out the light, and though he tried to close his eyes and go back to sleep, there was an aching in his chest that kept him awake. Though he knew it was impossible, he kept hoping and wishing that somehow, some way, he could simply will Henry into existence there with him. Finally growing exhausted of his pining, he slipped out of bed, pinning his blanket around himself as a cape, and stepped out of his room. The creature lay sleeping soundly on the floor in front of the fireplace, that being the only place he ever slept despite having a room of his own. Victor paused, staring down at him for a moment, suddenly envying him. After having been calmed from another night terror, the creature seemed so peaceful and at rest in his sleep, while Victor seemed to be cursed only to dream of memories that pained him and made him feel all the more lonely and lost, twisted and changed by fears he so desperately tried to suppress. Cautiously stepping over his creation’s outstretched leg, he made his way to the door and stepped outside into the light of dawn. At first he shielded his eyes from the light, but as they adjusted, he strode toward the edge of the ledge and paused just before the rock dropped off into a steep cliff, just so most of his feet were still on solid ground though his toes hung over the edge. It was a dangerous place to stand, especially with the strong breeze that pushed its way through, but the danger of it was the last thing on his mind as he stared ahead, his hands clasped behind his back.

A feeling of homesickness flooded through him, though he couldn’t quite discern what it was for. Was it for Geneva, for the lake and the forests and the view of the mountains from below? Was it for the home and family he left behind so many years ago? Or was it just for Henry himself- He shook the thought from his head. "That's silly," he muttered aloud. "You can't feel homesick for a person." Yet when he thought about his soothing voice as he read some ancient poem or story, or the way he held him when he was scared or sad; when he thought about the way he could paint a picture with words or tell a story through sketches, that feeling of homesickness only grew more prevalent. In his heartache, he hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, nor had he heard when they stopped, followed by the clattering of a walking stick and pack being dropped to the ground. Instead, it was a voice that broke him from his thoughts, sending both a wave of heat and an icy chill through his veins.

“Victor?” He turned his head, and swore he was hallucinating. Standing there bathed in the golden light of the morning sun was the exact person who had been consuming his every waking thought. In a moment of something between blind panic and overwhelming joy, Victor thoughtlessly fully turned to face him while stumbling backward - except there was nothing to stumble back on. One foot slipped from the edge of the cliff, and he flailed his arms, trying to push his balance onto the one foot that still remained on land despite that one beginning to slip as well. Just as he was about to fall back to what would most certainly have been an inevitable death, a hand grabbed one of his flailing arms by the wrist and stopped his fall. He glanced back as fragments of stone tumbled off the cliff, falling through the air until they could no longer be seen. His breath caught in his throat at the thought that he could have just perished due to his own carelessness, but when he looked back up he felt his heart flutter. Henry was staring down at him with a look of both terror and relief in his eyes, wisps of his orange hair that had escaped being tied back drifting over his face and catching the sunlight like thin streams of fire, gleaming and shifting in vibrant shades of auburn with each waving motion of the breeze.

“H-hi Henry,” Victor managed to stutter breathlessly as he gazed upward with wide eyes. The grip on his wrist tightened and he felt himself blush, so he turned his head away as Henry hoisted him back up onto solid ground, only to blush harder as his friend suddenly pulled him into so tight of an embrace he thought his frail ribs might crack. Though it was slightly painful, the sudden rush of euphoria from being once again wrapped in Henry’s arms overrode any pain he felt. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh, or cry, or maybe both at once, but whatever the case, he clung to Henry tightly in return, silently hoping that this was in fact reality and not just some waking dream. Henry pulled back, placing his hands on Victor’s shoulders as Victor reluctantly released him.

“My dear Frankenstein,” Henry murmured. The words shot straight through Victor, words he had been longing to hear for the months he had been away, words that only Henry ever spoke, and he felt as though he might faint at the mere sound of them.

“It’s… it’s been far too long,” Victor managed to whisper, leaning his head to one side and resting it on Henry’s hand. Henry returned the gesture with a comforting smile.

“It has,” he concurred, seemingly searching Victor’s face for answers to some unspoken question. Victor looked back up at him, his own eyes wandering for want of answers, and as he stared, his gaze turned to a sudden look of confusion and concern as reason and logic began to overtake his senses.

“How did you find me?” He paused, then stepped back and pulled fully away from Henry’s touch. “Why aren’t you still at Ingolstadt?” Henry shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m taking time off,” he answered simply. “After you left I was so worried - about you and your family, I guess - I just… couldn’t keep my focus on my studies, so I decided it might be best to come home and take a break.” Victor was about to reply, but went silent as Henry suddenly went rummaging through one of his pockets and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “As for how I found you,” he began, waving it in the air, “I got your letter!” Victor gave him an odd look.

“...Letter?” Henry unfolded it and looked it over.

“You don’t remember sending this?” Victor thought long and hard, trying to consider all of the possibilities - maybe he had sent something and forgotten? Or maybe he had written and sent something in some daze of confusion and lost all memory of it? Neither made much sense, but they were the only answers that seemed to come to mind.

“Not to my knowledge, no.” He reached out. “Do you mind if I take a look?” Henry laughed as he shook his head.

“Of course not! You’re the one that wrote it, after all,” he replied as he placed the letter into Victor’s hand. Victor read it over, growing more confused and concerned with himself. Henry was right - it looked exactly like his handwriting and the tone of voice in the letter seemed to match the tone he so often used in his typical letters to Henry from his time in Ingolstadt before that same fateful day that he arrived there. “Whatever the case, whether you wrote it or not,” Henry began, smiling and resting one hand back on Victor’s shoulder. “You have no idea how delighted I am to see you again.” Victor hid his blushing behind the paper as he inspected it closer.

“More like you have no idea how delighted I am to see you again,” he mumbled. The letter certainly seemed flawlessly his own creation, but no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t recall when, or frankly how, he would have sent it. “When did you say you received this?”

“I… hadn’t said, but it was yesterday evening.” Victor’s expression became even more contorted with confusion, and Henry himself began to worry. “Is there something wrong?”

“Henry… I never wrote you a letter.” Henry stared.

“I’m not sure if I should be more offended or concerned by that sentence, but I think the answer lies somewhere in the middle.” The thought that he might have offended him sent a twinge of guilt through Victor, and he glanced up with a sigh.

“That’s not to say I didn’t want to write to you. It’s just… I can’t leave this place. It’s a long story.”

“You did mention that in the letter, something about how you were unable to leave. That’s part of why I left as soon as I received it - I figured you might be in trouble, but you look perfectly well, other than perhaps a bit thinner than usual.”

“That’s just it-” Victor began, looking back down at the letter. “If I’m stuck here, then how would I have gotten this letter to you?” Henry thought for a moment.

“Well, it was delivered by someone who wished to remain anonymous if that makes any difference. Perhaps there was someone who had come here that you forgot and had asked to deliver the letter?” Victor shook his head.

“Impossible. I would have known if someone else had come. There’s no one here except me and-” He paused, his eyes catching on to something strange, a pattern in the way each character was written. He knew his own handwriting - it was sloppy at best, yet typically at least legible, and he never wrote one letter the same way twice. That was the problem, though - the handwriting looked nearly identical, yes, but it was too perfect. Each letter, though sloppily written, was written in nearly the exact same style, as though it had been copied. It was such a small detail, something he himself with his ever observant eyes barely caught on to, but it was enough to alert him that he was right - he never wrote a letter. “It was forged,” he said out loud suddenly. Henry took the letter from his hands and gave it a closer look. “You know my handwriting, Henry. It’s imperfect. I’ve always complained about how imperfect and inconsistent it is. But this? It’s…”

“Perfectly imperfect,” Henry muttered, finishing his sentence for him. “Now that you mention it, I see what you mean. How fascinating… whoever wrote this put a lot of time and care and effort into trying to make it look and sound like you, and certainly nearly managed to achieve it.” He folded the letter back up and returned it to his pocket, but as he did, he repeated Victor’s own words in his head. “Did you say there was someone else here?” Victor didn’t answer. He barely heard him, as he became lost in his own thoughts, trying to decipher who had written it and how it could have been delivered, and how the author would have known his whereabouts.

Perfectly imperfect, he thought to himself. Perfectly imperfect… His eyes went wide and he felt as though his blood was draining to his feet as he went pale and his stomach seemed to twist itself in knots. “Perfectly imperfect,” he repeated aloud, as though in a trance. Henry gave him a concerned look, and reached out, taking his hand gently.

“Victor? Is there something wrong?” Victor trembled, then suddenly tore his hand away and made his way over to the belongings Henry had dropped, gathering them up and placing them back into Henry’s hands.

“You need to leave,” he demanded, his tone hoarse yet dark. Henry blinked.

“I’m… are you sure?”

“Yes I am sure.” He wasn’t sure - but all he knew was he suddenly felt a surge of fear and fury rising through himself. Henry stared, seemingly analyzing him, then gently placed his things onto the ground again.

“No you’re not-”

“Yes I am,” Victor interrupted. His breathing quickened as his heart began to race. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to appear as calm as possible, he rested a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “You need to leave, Henry. You’re not safe here.” Henry’s hand dropped to the rapier he kept sheathed at his side.

“Victor, I can protect myself - you know that. Whatever it is, rest assured, I will be fine.” He reached up, placing his hand over Victor’s hand. “What I’m more concerned about is you and your safety.” Victor looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. “Why are you really here?”

“I told you, it’s a long story,” he uttered, his voice almost like a low growl as he suddenly pushed Henry back. “One that I don’t have the time to tell. Go, Henry. Leave, and don’t come back - for your own sake.” Henry stumbled back as Victor pushed him, and though he desperately wanted to refuse, he sighed and began retrieving his things.

“If that’s really what you want, then I’ll go,” he answered quietly, trying to hide the sorrow in his voice. His tone sent Victor’s mind reeling and a sudden shock of pain in his heart, but he strengthened his resolve and continued to hurry Henry along. Exhausted from his journey and now pained by rejection, Henry trudged along, until out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of something that made him stop and raise his head. It was the cabin he saw, quaint and carefully constructed of logs likely found from the mountain forest. “Oh!” he exclaimed, causing Victor to pause as well. “Did you build that?” he asked, glancing back toward his friend.

“No- well- I- It’s not important. Time to go,” Victor grumbled, pushing at him again. Henry stepped away from him, nearly causing him to fall forward, and walked toward the little dwelling with curiosity.

“It’s… nice, actually,” he complimented, looking it over and glancing at his surroundings. “Must be pretty wonderful to be living in such a beautiful place with such an incredible view.”

“No, it’s a living hell of my own creation. Come on, Henry,” Victor pleaded, grabbing hold of his arm and trying to pull him away. Just then, the door to the cabin creaked as it opened, and Victor froze. He dared not to look, and a million scenarios raced through his mind. Had that demon lured Henry here to hurt him? Would Henry attack it out of fear of its hideousness? Would it attack him back? Panic began to course through him, but as the door closed, it wasn’t chaos that ensued, but instead Henry’s kind voice and cheerful disposition that rose over the mess of disastrous thoughts that tumbled around in his head.

“Oh, hello there! And who might you be?”

#*casually drinking my loving henry clerval juice*#...it's coffee. loving henry clerval juice is coffee.#victor frankenstein would agree with me i think.#(or really it's whatever you want it to be uwu)#also yes Henry carries his rapier with him everywhere because he thinks it makes him look cool-#oh and also for protection but mostly because he feels very important and heroic when he has it #and Victor is a disaster gay but we all already knew that.#anyways-#on to the usual tags #frankenstein au #clervalstein #(technically it's more of- clervenstein pining hours but- still)#head empty clervenstein thoughts #clervenstein my beloved

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pretchatta · 3 years

Text

a little bit more of the university au I started here, inspired by @bythevay‘s amazing sweater vest kanan and date night hera. I still haven’t made it to the actual date yet... but it does exist in draft form! I’ll be putting the whole lot on AO3 as soon as I have a title (suggestions are welcome!) but until then it’ll be small sections on tumblr as and when I feel they’re finished.

edit: it’s on AO3!

rating: general; kanan jarrus/hera syndulla; 1.3k words

---

The soft, burbling sounds of the café reached his ears as Kanan pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the library. The foyer was grand, if a little tired, with wood-panelled walls and a polished marble floor that contrasted sharply with the modern security barriers cutting through the middle. Sweeping up one side was the long reception desk that served both sides, though only those with a university ID card could pass through the turnstiles to the café and, more importantly, the university’s precious trove of knowledge beyond.

Kanan made his way to the desk, not needing to enter the library proper today, absently greeting the old librarian who sat on the other side.

“Morning, Okadiah.”

The human raised a white-haired eyebrow as Kanan reached over the desk to a currently unused library staff computer. “It’s past one.”

“Oh. Good afternoon, then.” He twisted the monitor around to face him and tapped a request on the keyboard in a practised way.

“Someone’s a little distracted,” Okadiah commented. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were thinking about a woman, but since you’re never off campus and the gender ratio of your department is abysmal, that’s about as likely as you reading my sign.”

The sign in question read ‘DO NOT LEAN ON THE DESK’, and Kanan had been ignoring it since graduation. That had been when he’d started working at the library to support himself through his PhD and learnt that Okadiah was far less formidable than he’d first appeared. Since accepting a permanent position in the School of Chemistry faculty he’d not stopped acting like a member of library staff, and he was pretty sure Okadiah only allowed it because Kanan was still one of the few people who could actually work the library’s archaic cataloguing software.

“Well, maybe next time I’m here for a book I’ll ask you to call it for me, because this woman… I don’t even know how to describe her.”

“Oh boy.”

“She was incredible. She’d dropped a lab coat, and she had these eyes… I’m telling you, I’ve never seen eyes like hers before.”

"Eyes, huh -- is this her, coming in now? Lab coat, check. Eyes, check..."

Okadiah had no idea what Hera looked like, but Kanan's head whipped around to see if it was her nonetheless. He tried not to look too obviously disappointed at the diminutive sullustan woman in white who’d just come through the doors. Her huge eyes roamed around the room before landing on the desk, which she then made a beeline towards.

"Excuse me," she said, peering up at the librarian. The lanyard around her neck proclaimed her to be a guest speaker from one of the university’s affiliate companies by the name of Zaluna Myder. "I'm meeting someone inside, a member of university staff."

"You'll have to wait here until they arrive," Okadiah replied kindly. “When they do I can sign you in.”

The woman nodded. “Very well. I’ll just take a seat here then.” She slid down to sit on the floor at the base of the desk.

Kanan frowned in confusion, but was distracted by a besalisk with an armful of books arriving at the other side of the desk.

“You requested this one, Oke?” the woman grunted, passing the topmost one over to him.

“Thanks, Lal, it’s for Professor Jarrus here.” Okadiah took the slim textbook and the library assistant departed again. He glanced at the cover before sliding it over to Kanan. “Hey, this has got to be the fourth Physics book you’ve ordered this term. Is it for that kid again? I don’t know why you don’t just give him Young and Freedman and be done with it.”

Kanan rolled his eyes. “He’s fifteen. I’m trying to encourage his passion for the sciences, not break his spine.”

“If you’re hoping he makes it to higher education,” came a new voice from behind, “a little strength training maybe wouldn’t go amiss.”

Kanan almost couldn't believe his ears, but there was no mistaking that voice. He turned, and sure enough, there she was. She was wearing different overalls today, but those eyes were the same as he remembered, if not even more beautiful.

Play it cool, Kanan.

"Hey, Hera," he said casually.

“Kanan, right?” She was smiling at him again, and it made his heart flutter in his chest. “I thought you said you teach Chemistry? Do you often teach extra subjects?”

“Yes -- I mean, no --” He was flustered, and forced himself to start again. “I’m tutoring this kid, and sometimes he gets curious about non-Chemistry topics. Sometimes I worry I’m losing him to Physics, but then I give him a sheet of algebra and he’s back to asking about rates of reactions.”

He felt like he was rambling and stopped himself from saying anything further, but she was nodding.

“I’d be interested to hear more about your teaching.”

“I -- well, you’re always welcome to come by during my office hours.”

He heard what sounded like a disappointed sigh from Okadiah.

“Dr Syndulla?” came a voice from below; the sullustan woman had stood back up.

“Zaluna!” Hera said brightly, apparently recognising her. “I’ve booked one of the private study rooms for our meeting - unfortunately we can’t use my office today, I share it and my colleague has a tutorial in there right now.”

“If you show me your staff ID, your guest can sign in here and I can grant a temporary day pass to the library,” Okadiah said, bringing out the visitor log book. Zaluna took the pen and started writing as Hera rummaged for her ID card.

Kanan started to feel a little awkward and wondered if he should leave - he had his book now, after all - but he didn’t want to. He wanted to talk to Hera some more, but he didn’t know how to start with Okadiah and Zaluna there.

“There’s a new restaurant that’s just opened up on Gorse Street, y’know,” Okadiah said, interrupting Kanan’s train of thought.

“Huh?” Kanan was momentarily confused, but caught the twinkle in the old librarian’s eyes.

“There,” Zaluna said, finishing signing her name.

“Great, let’s get going. It was nice to see you again, Kanan,” Hera directed the last part to him as she started walking towards the turnstiles with Zaluna.

“Wait!” he called, and she paused to look back. “Do -- would you like to get dinner? With me? There’s a new restaurant…” he finished lamely, gesturing at Okadiah, who covered his face with his hand.

But Hera didn’t seem put off. She smiled at him again, and he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of seeing that smile. “That sounds nice. I’m free tomorrow evening -- meet me under the Illum Bridge at seven?”

Kanan couldn’t help the smile that split his face. “See you tomorrow at seven!”

He watched her walk away, feeling like he was floating. He was taking Hera on a date! Him! And her! For a whole evening, at--

“Wait, what restaurant did I just invite her to?”

Okadiah’s eyes sparkled with mirth over the tops of his glasses. “Luna Cynda has received nothing but rave reviews since it first opened last week, and is fully booked for the next month.”

“What?” Kanan’s heart rate spiked with anxiety. “Fully booked? Where am I supposed to take Hera tomorrow?”

The old man merely smiled at him. “I’ve been meaning to give it a go myself, but since I can’t stand the thought of you taking such a lovely woman on what would otherwise undoubtedly be a terrible date, I suppose you can have my table reservation.”

“Really?”

“Tomorrow at seven-thirty. I’m living vicariously. Treat her well, please.”

---

#kanera #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #okadiah garson #zaluna myder #university au #fic #the laws of spectre dynamics #kanera university au #pretchwritta

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peeterparkr · 4 years

Text

perennial;tom holland|two.

chapter two: yellow alstroemeria

↳ flower meaning: friendship

chapter summary: to heal with a friend.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: angsty a bit, but confort and friendship! mentions of alcohol and mention of sex

word count: 8.1k

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles one: in which y/n decides to go back to social media and sees a surpirse.

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Hello! Here’s the next one, please, please, please tell me what you think! And please help me out, tags haven’t been working. Also, thanks to everyone who voted for the cast, you’re gonna love it, and I might announce it soon!

There are flowers that need sunlight, flowers that don’t. You needed the sun to be bright again to bloom. Good thing, sunshine was coming back to your life.

You felt like everything was going great. For the first time you were doing something that you loved and you felt like you were actually healing. It had been different from last time, you were not alone. You were loved, you were being taken care of. Tim and Emma were there for you and you were so incredibly happy you had them. It was like somehow, this time you’d be able to get things done.

Especially on that particular day, you had woken up happy. You had decided to treat yourself to some pancakes with strawberries and cherries on top. Your phone had decided to be kind to you that day, and you were, too. A happy song was the first one to play as soon as you hit the music shuffle. ‘The Tide is High’ by Blondie, the gentle notes were only adding to the perfect scenario. The flowers that your aunt had gifted you, gaillardias, were blooming, you had a smile on your face and everything seemed to be going great. You even danced a little as you were leaving the apartment and walked to the bus.

It had been a few weeks, almost a month since you’d arrived in Los Angeles, and you were thriving.

Your script finally had a name. “Dos-à-dos.” A dancing step, so simple. The 80’s dance movie no one had asked for, but somehow you knew everyone one needed. It felt different seeing your dream and vision starting to come to life.

You couldn’t help but smile, you had this feeling that something was going to happen. On the bus, you nodded your head along to the music as if it was a movie scene and the spotlight was on you. You felt like the main character just after the storm had finished. Happy notes, colourful day.

A bright glimpse in your sight, and you had even found yourself blushing. It had been so different from last time. You had friends, and god, they were such good friends. Especially because Emma and you had been healing together, some days were easier, some others weren’t, but you had each other. Dancing, laughing, crying together. Going out together, staying late at night laughing. And Tim, too. He really had his life going great. He had been offered to work in a modelling agency as a side job to his director’s assistant job. Emma was working in a costuming department, and she also did some waitressing as a side job.

You were working at the flower and coffee shop, too. It somehow made everything nice, after a long day walking to a place that smelled of coffee and flowers. Your aunt really helped you heal with the flowers, learning from them. She was so nice, and she always gave the right advice.

Hollywood, huh. Dreams seemed impossible, and yet you were reaching them. You were happy.

Because you weren’t alone. And you were working on another project with them, three film graduates healing from heartbreak can make quite a team. And it was fun, so different from London. In a city where everybody wanted to make a name for themselves. And there you were. Ending up in diners at 3 am, going out biking, being stuck in traffic with the car you’ve managed to lease for the three of you.

After a long day of work you still had a lot of happy thoughts. Emma and Tim had gotten an invitation to a party, and in Hollywood, you have to go to them, you never know who you’d end up meeting. Maybe it’s the person that will make you reach the stars, or maybe not. Like a different kind of job interview, meet the right people, make a name out for yourself.

But you didn’t want to go to a party that night, Emma had insisted on staying with you but you assured her you were doing just great.

You had decided to have fun by yourself, you had been tired and you really needed some me time.It had been a happy day, the pre-production was going phenomenal. There were still a lot of corrections going on but the casting was almost over apparently, and filming would start soon and that had you on the edge of your seat. They had said you’d like them. You trusted them. A new director had called to play in, and he’d produce, too. You’d meet him soon. Apparently, he had heard about the project and offered to be director.

Things were going great.

You poured a glass of wine from the bottle you had on the fridge, it literally only had enough for one damned glass, honestly, that’s all you needed.

You had an old vinyl player, thank god Emma and Tim had agreed on buying it with you, and you had brought some pieces of vinyl from home. You went through your vinyls, and stopped just as you saw your favourite one. The one Tom had given you on your last birthday. Your birthday.

That was going to be soon but you just liked to ignore that fact. It really didn’t matter, honestly.

But you weren’t ready to listen to anything related to Tom yet. You weren’t exactly ready to go back to Tom.

You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that every now and then he did cross your mind. That was a lie, he lived rent-free on your mind and heart 24/7. You wondered how he was doing. Had he healed? Was he still angry you left? Had he finally understood why you had left?

He hadn’t reached out for you. You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim you had texted him once, though. One final: “I’m really sorry, I love you.”

He hadn’t answered. Of course that had been stupid.

You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim, you knew how friends go: forget him. But could you? You missed him and you really had expected him to come here and maybe pull one of those stupid scenes you hated from rom coms, maybe he’d walk to your apartment, it would have to rain, but it barely ever rained in Los Angeles, but in your scenario, it would. And even if he didn’t know where you live he would show up at the door, and he would try to give a speech of how you are the only one he wants, or how both of you should forget everything and give it another chance because that’s love or whatever crap they say in romcoms, and you’d jump to his arms and kiss him and forget about everything. Kiss him again and again.

But this was real life.

So he wouldn’t.

Of course you wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that late at night you’d miss him. Or in the morning or the middle of the day. You even missed fighting with him, having to come up with silly comebacks to his stupid comments. You wouldn’t tell Emma or Tim that you missed his ugly face or his stupid laugh.

No, you wouldn't tell them.

But of course, that night you decided you’d have a ‘me, myself, and I’ kind of party. And so you did. Playing music that would make you happy, that you could dance along to.

And it was the day you’d decided to go back on social media. After a long, long time of not being able to be on your phone for more than 2 minutes, you logged in. You saw pictures of your brother, Emma, Tim. Pictures you’d taken of them. Something you’d gone back to, photography. It was nice. At least that way you could keep Harry’s memory alive.

Harry.

You wished you hadn’t lost him. The question he’d asked had lingered in your mind, had things been different, would it really be different?

Maybe you did think about it. How it could’ve been him. But would it? You had time to think about it.

Maybe you were trying to repress his memory because you knew he was supposed to be with Emma. But you couldn’t ignore the fact that Harry had still… tried something. Of course it was complicated.

But you knew your heart was stupid and stubborn and it belonged only to one person. Would you call him, soon?

Would Tom even answer?

Because though the time spent with him had been way shorter than the time apart, it had been strong enough to be engraved on your soul. That’s the thing about true love, or stubborn love, you love for the sake of loving. And if you were given another chance, you’d take it, no questions asked. Another hoax if you may, if he wants to. You could ruin another’s city echo. You would risk staining another street with hopeless memories only to see him again. More blank pictures, more unwearable dresses and lipsticks waiting to be kissed. A new box. You didn’t hate him. You hoped he didn’t hate you, and you wish you could turn back around to his arms.

And then… there it was. Like someone had punched you in your throat. As if you’d run out of air, and your whole body ached. You thought you’d never have that feeling again. You had only been scrolling, dancing to music, singing out loud and now… this. You heard something shattering, at first you thought it was your heart but then your senses came back to see the red wine all over your floor as the remaining broken glass had jumped and clashed.

You stared at it. That was undeniably Tom and he had Cherry’s lips on his cheek.

Why did this hurt that much? Why—why had he done this? Had he moved on? Did—he and Cherry start dating?

Had he moved on? So quickly erase your memory? And with your—cousin? You quickly locked your phone.

You quickly got back from your shock and rushed to clean everything up, pretending you hadn’t just seen what you’d seen. Pretending it had just been your imagination. And pretending you didn’t believe it.

But then you opened it again, and there he was, arms around Cherry, smile wide open, as Cherry was cupping his head and smiling against his stupid face.

And you only sensed an atrophied heart falling down shattering completely. What did you expect from him? To wait around for you? He wouldn’t.

He’d move on and of course he’d like someone like Cherry. Cherry was a goddess. A goddamn perfect goddess.

You weren’t like Cherry, of course he’d turn around to see the sculptured doll life had presented him. She was beautiful. A model like fairy queen whatever.

And you were you.

But didn’t he—love you? But of course, right you’d hurt him so much and you were a fool to think that someone like him could wait for someone like you when he’d hurt you.

It was like the damn mirror was being your worst enemy again. You were not Cherry, with her perfect eyes and lips and body. You weren’t Cherry who probably cared too little about her appearance but ended up being perfect. So careless and free. Never planning.

Tom preferred her over you, right? Because you were not enough. You felt it. Every single doubt coming to your mind. Was it your hair? Your makeup? Your body. What is it that she was a perfect fashion guru or that she wasn’t a handful like you. Was it that she probably didn’t dive in.

Or maybe that you were too easy to get over, too forgettable, nothing extraordinary. But… You had to stop yourself from going back to that place. You were okay, right?

You were you. That was great. You didn’t need anything else, and this was on him, not on you. This was him trying to date someone else for whatever reason.

You had to stop comparing yourself, no, no. But you couldn’t help it. And you went back to the picture.

But that’s the thing, you guessed, about jealousy. So, so, so jealous of her. But jealousy is a horrible feeling that only ends up killing us from the inside. God, but you were still thinking about Tom. You should’ve told Cherry, but that wouldn’t be fair play. You didn’t blame Cherry, Tom was… Tom.

But maybe you should’ve warned her that his smile was the biggest weapon he’d use against her, and tell her that maybe he’s perfect but he��ll end up making her give him her biggest weakness and he’ll use them as a weapon. That he’ll be an angel, but it’s only a disguise. He was a devil.

And that once you taste his lips you’ll never be able to live without them again. But no, Tom was only pain. Yes.

But you had to forget him now. Because he’d forgotten you. Probably he was only a mistake, someone to add to the book, but gosh, no, it couldn’t be. He was an idiot.

You looked at the picture. Why?

No, no… How could this be? Why the hell were you crying and why the hell did it feel so bad? Like a dagger coming right through you, like you couldn't breathe, everything had turned dark again.

You did the only thing you could do then, lay down and cry. Because were you going to call him and tell him to go fuck himself? You didn’t have the right to. You were the one who had gone away. But if only you hadn’t. And you had the enraging and flaming jealousy burning through you, the sadness was bigger. You’d be jealous later. And what would happen if you showed up?

Why did he do it?

This was on you. You’d given up, but it hurt so much. You couldn’t even figure out your thoughts, like a million things popping up, but nothing made sense and you couldn’t stop feeling that head and stomach ache, the heartache. You finally took a deep breath that was confused with a sob. Drowning.

It wasn’t raining in LA, yet you saw your room flooding, water entering from everywhere, and you couldn’t move. You weren’t able to breathe, you were only sinking. Had it all been in vain?

Maybe…

Maybe.

Your sorrow was too loud yet you barely made any noise, all curled up in your bed, feeling cold, and drowning, suffocating. The music was still playing, life laughing at you. And you knew it then, it was over. You were broken in two and there was no way to fix this now. Not right now. He’d given up on loving you. You’d lost him, and you wondered, would you ever try to turn back time to stop yourself from loving him if only you had known you’d end up losing him anyway.

“Y/N—no, Timmy let me handle this, let me--She’s not okay, okay, I know Tim, but you will only make things worse,” a muffled voice was heard outside your room after a while, Emma walked in to see you pitying yourself, as you danced hugging a pillow as you hummed along to the music still playing. She closed the door. “Are you okay?” She asked, and you didn’t lookup. “What a fucking stupid question of course you’re not,” she answered herself as she walked over with some takeout, another bag and two six-packs of beers. “Here, bottoms up, thought beer would go better with this” she said, handing you a beer over. It worked well as a microphone.

You sang along to the music, not even knowing when the hell you’d started playing that ABBA vinyl. She joined you, knowing that was probably what you needed. Heartaches are a weird thing, you didn’t even know what the hell you were going through, denial, probably. The cold tears kept streaming down as you were probably now in a state of denial, as you danced along your room.

And then, it hit. The pain, again. You sank to the ground and then rested against your bed.

Emma sat on the edge of the bed watching you. Emma sighed as she sank to the ground with you. you breathed in a sob as she pulled you into a hug, somehow being comforted made you even sadder.

“It’ll be okay,” she assured you. “It’ll be okay.”

You tried to soothe your sobs as you sat up. “This is stupid, why am I even crying I don’t care-”

“No, men are stupid—” Emma stated, you only chuckled softly. “Show me the picture.”

You handed her your phone, and she stared at it. Emma grimaced and then stayed incredibly quiet.

“So?”

She took a deep breath. “Okay—first we need to unfollow them both,” she said.

“But—”

She held the phone far from you as she unfollowed them. “Y/N you're going to keep going back and we don’t want that.”

You sighed, she pulled out some tissues from the bag and cleaned your face with them. You chuckled. She handed you some pills, and then walked over to your mirror, she opened a drawer and took out your makeup wipes. She walked back and wiped off the remaining makeup that hadn’t been absorbed by the tears.

“Do you think they’re—” You couldn’t even finish the question.

Emma bit her lip, knowing exactly what you’d meant. “I don’t know, I don’t know Tom enough.”

You groaned. She thought they were dating.

Emma realized it’d been the wrong answer. “It’s cause,” she paused as she took a deep breath. “Look, I didn’t know about this, you and Tom. Honestly, when Timmy told me I—I didn’t expect it you know?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, like… If you asked me anything concerning Tim and, I’d know, but... You and Tom? But guess it—”

“Didn’t make any sense, yeah I know,” you sighed.

“No, it did,” Emma said. “In a weird way. Even--,” she cleared her throat. “Harry said it once, how he wondered why you guys never dated…I never told Timmy about it but it—It made sense,” Emma nodded. “Him being in love with you made a lot of sense. that’s probably why he was always so attentive and obsessed and—”

“Yeah—Emma you’re not answering my question,” you gulped.

Emma chuckled. “What was the question?”

“They’re dating right?” You asked, showing her the screenshot.

She bit her lip, staring at it. “I don’t know.”

“Fuck, maybe not dating but—”

“Look y/n, I don’t know but—”Emma sighed. “Does it matter? This is a sign that you have to move on.”

“I don’t know why I feel this way,” you admitted.

“It’s normal.”

Was it normal? You didn’t know. But you were angry, sad, disappointed. You couldn’t even map your emotions. What were you even feeling? What was it? Jealousy? Anger? Sadness?

“I mean I guess I did ask him to move on,” you pointed out.

Emma sighed. “Didn’t you ask him to heal?” She had handed you the Chinese takeout she’d brought you as both of you sat on the floor. You stared at the food, but you weren’t even hungry.

“Isn’t it the same?”

“Not really y/n,” she said as she stared at her noodles before taking a bite. “You asked him to give you time because you wanted to try it out again.”

“I’m such an idiot.”

“Maybe it’s just a rebound,” Emma said.

“But it’s my cousin!” You cried. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

“I mean you kind of—with his brother,” She pointed out.

“It’s not the same and you know that,” you rolled your eyes as she laughed .”Because -I didn’t.”

“I’m messing with you, but I know, I know but..”

“I don’t know,” you sighed. Because you really didn’t know. What was going on? What the hell?

“And cherry didn’t know?” Emma asked, as she changed the box with you, now you had the noodles and she had the chicken. It had become a habit with Emma, sharing food.

“I didn’t tell her,” you admitted.

Emma scoffed. “Oh, but come on,” Emma frowned. “Like, it was obvious, like… Please he showed up with flowers to your house? And isn’t she like a fucking flower guru or some shit why the hell didn’t she read the room?”

You finally took a bite before drinking your beer. “I...well.”

“But still no, you know what? Tom is the one who’s shit here,” Emma said.

“Is he?” You asked.

“Fuck yes,” Emma chirped. “Like, come on, what the fuck? He was so angry at you because you left saying you’d thrown it away,” she dramatized. “But he is the one to throw it all out!”

“You think?” You frowned.

Emma rolled her eyes. “I know that!” She snapped. “he—let me see the pic, again.”

You showed her again.

“I just didn’t think he’d move on that quickly you know,” you pointed out.

“Yeah I—it doesn’t add up,” Emma agreed.

“I feel stupid for feeling this way,” you sighed.

“No you’re not stupid you’re human and he’s an asshole,” she said.

“He’s not--” You gulped. “That’s—that’s the thing, okay? And I don’t want to call him that because that’s the reason as to why it all went to shit, because I called him a monster.”

“Look y/n, I know you still feel guilty about it but that man has hurt you multiple times throughout his life, he’s done some awful shit to you, and yes you hurt him too but he’s shown that he doesn’t deserve your love.”

“But I want to love him,” you said. “Or wanted.”

“Yes, alright and that’s fair,” she admitted. “But he’s a man and all men suck.”

“Right.”

You stayed quiet for a while as you both ate, sang along to the music still faintly playing in the background, changing boxes, drinking beer. Leaning against your bed, both on the floor.

“And like—Cherry is so pretty of course he’d date her,” you commented after a while.

“She’s pretty and so what?” Emma shrugged. “You’re beautiful y/n.”

“And she is—so perfect and I’m,” you continued. The poisonous thoughts coming back to you.

“Y/N no don’t you dare compare yourself to her,” Emma warned.

“But how can I not?” You stated. “She’s bloody perfect, her hair her clothes, she’s just-”

“Yeah, and look at you, you are fucking beautiful, alright? Look at you, so bloody beautiful and perfect, and talented and you’re amazing and you’ve got great music taste, but y/n don’t compare yourself to her!”

“Why not? Because we both know she’s a model and-”

“She’s attractive, yes! But you are too! You’re amazing y/n!”

“Then why did he move on? Why—why didn’t he come back for me?” You asked, and the question lingered in the air.

Emma didn’t have an answer to that question.

“I just don’t know how to feel,” you admitted. “I… I am jealous, but sad, and angry and desperate and I know I shouldn’t be.”

“I hate seeing you sad y/n,” Emma said, scooting close to you. “But it’s okay, right now you need to cry it out.”

You didn’t want to keep crying. But you needed, and just as she had said those words, the tears had streamed down again. You leaned against your friend, knowing she really was there for you, but no shoulder to cry on would soothe your sorrow.

“Yes, I’m here for you, it’s okay,” she said.

“I just thought I—” words couldn’t even come out. “it’s stupid but all this time I—I thought he’d come back to me but I guess it was just stupid.”

“No,” Emma said. “It’s not stupid.”

“I just can’t believe he moved on that quickly,” you said, sitting back up, wiping off your tears. “While I’m here crying over him and thinking about him all the goddamn time and I—I can’t believe he’d hurt me again but he probably doesn’t even know I care,” you continued with a sob, barely even breathing now. “And I—I’ve been pretending I’m doing fine but I just can’t forget about him and god it’s stupid that I keep—doing this.”

“Cry it out, you’ve gotten out of it before,” Emma said. “We don’t even know if they’re dating or-”

“No but the thing is Emma that if I fucking dared to post a pic where Timmy is in the background he’d lose his fucking mind and call me and blame me for it,” you growled. “And he’d make a scene and—And I deserve to make a scene too because—-because it’s too soon and I would’ve-” You took a deep breath as your voice was cracking. “I would’ve thought he’d wait just a little but maybe he doesn’t—I don’t even know why I’m… so upset.”

“Let it out.”

“I don’t even understand why I feel like this, jealous and sad and—I just it should be me, the one with my lips on his cheek and I am angry because maybe I shouldn’t have left! I’m here wondering what could be different, you know? And I”

“Y/n you left because of your dream.”

“And when I go back... what if I never see him again? What if we can’t even say hello or be in the same room.”

“You were like that before,” Emma said.

“But I can’t pretend he’s not the love of my life and I can’t pretend that I won’t love him for the rest of my stupid pathetic life.”

Emma didn’t say anything.

“I just... I am hurt—and I’m not making any sense. I'm just sad because I was going to call him.”

“You what?” Emma asked.

“I thought about it today, how I missed him too much but hey, not anymore, because he’s fucking dating Cherry or he’s fucking Cherry or…”

“It’s probably a rebound y/n.”

“With my bloody cousin? Is he for real?” You were exasperated.

“Men are stupid.”

“Yes but—but I just... I don’t understand this,” you sank to the floor again as you were running out of breath now, until then you noticed you were bursting into tears.

“Come here, it’s okay the pain will end,” Emma opened her arms again.

“I just thought I’d be—alright.”

“And you will, you are still thriving y/n!” She said. “They’re making a movie out of your script! You actually are doing something you love! You’re living with your best friends!” She pointed out.

“I guess.”

“You guess?” Emma frowned as she reached out for your pillow. She playfully hit you with it. “You’re fucking thriving, y/n! And you’re learning a lot of flowers, even if I can’t stand you talking all day about them, y/n you’re doing great!” She said, hitting you with the pillow after every word.

A faint smile was on your face.

“And you know what? You’ll forget about him, soon enough and we will dance and laugh and you’ll be okay,” she assured you.

“Yes.”

“But right now you need to cry and it’s okay,” Emma continued. You nodded. “Okay, what else?”

“And she—she tweeted this,” you showed her.

She frowned. “Love me, love me, say that you love me?” She frowned. “But those are lyrics, ain’t they?” She asked. “And if…Oh sis, look, that girl—Look I know this isn’t what you want to hear but it’s probably what you need to hear but that’s just a very obsessive rebound.”

“What?”

“If she’s in love with him already that’s her problem,” she pointed out.

“Really?”

“Would you fall in love with a man who was so broken?”

“...No”

“Exactly she’s digging her own hole and,-”

But you didn’t let her finish. “I just don’t want her being in my place I should—it’s… and what if he ends up actually loving her?”

Emma sighed. “You’ll find someone too, someone better who won’t hurt you and who will actually fly to another country to search for you instead of blaming it on you for leaving.”

You sighed.

“We are very much alike aren’t we, we both thought they’d come here?” Emma said.

“That’s on us being stupid for expecting something from two men,” you said.

She laughed as she opened more bottles of beer.

“It’ll be alright y/n.”

“I know but right now—“

“I know, I know we need to cry.”

Emma was definitely a friend you needed. And you were a friend to Emma. You hadn’t really had a breakdown, or was mostly helping Emma. You had so far ignored your pain until that night. Maybe because you were trying to assure yourself that it didn’t hurt as much or because you kept the hope that you’d end up together.

But Tom had moved on and you probably had to move on, too.

You woke up the next day with barely any blankets as Emma had stolen all your bed and pillows. You were sore and your eyes hurt from crying.

But you knew this didn’t feel as bad. Somehow it didn’t feel like after the club, or after prom, or after the script, or after whatever.

No. Yes, it hurt. But it felt like a normal kind of pain, like when Louis had broken up with you. Or like when Timmy had tried to start dating another girl just after your breakup. Not the Tom pain.

But it still hurt.

You woke up and you saw Tim, a cup of coffee in his hand as he was leaning against the counter, he was scrolling on his phone.

You walked over and poured some coffee for yourself. You needed some energy after spending all night crying. The morning routine had an unspoken rule, whoever woke up first would make coffee for everyone.

Timmy looked up at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you said.

“Did you get some sleep?” He asked. “Emma is a snorer, so—“

You chuckled. “Yeah, I know,” you sighed as you stared at your coffee.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

You pursed your lips and then shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Emma didn’t tell me what happened,” he admitted.

You frowned. “She didn’t?”

“No, she said I’m a man and I don’t deserve to know,” he said chuckling.

You laughed. “Yeah.”

He grinned. “I mean I kind of can assume what happened.”

“Do you follow Cherry on Instagram?”

“I do not,” he scowled. “But it’s—About Tom. Right?”

“Yeah. Tom’s an idiot.”

“But that’s no news,” Timmy pointed out with a smirk.

You chuckled slightly. “No, I know, same old story.”

Timmy watched you. “But what happened?”

You pulled out your phone and showed the screenshot. It probably would be a good idea to delete it and pretend it didn’t exist. But sometimes we are idiots and like to keep adding salt to the wound.

Timmy grimaced looking at it.

“Verdict?” You asked. “Are they a thing?”

“No,” Timmy assured you. “Knowing Tom,” he said. “He did this to hurt you.”

That—that hurt even more. Because Tim was right. Knowing Tom, this was his way of getting back to you. Knowing Tom he had expected you to see it and cry.

And maybe he had even expected you to call and yell at him.

And that’s when you did hear more shattering, this time it wasn’t a cup, this time it wasn’t the glass of wine. It was your heart and it was undeniable. You could hear it again. The rain pouring down, the ripped off stomach. There it was… the Tom pain.

You hadn’t seen it that way. But it made sense. It hurt more to think that this probably was on purpose. That Tom hadn’t moved on, that Tom was doing this purposely. That he probably expected you to be on the floor tearing yourself apart. Because Tom was probably taking his revenge. And Tom knew that you’d end up comparing yourself. Because that was Tom, he used your weaknesses as his biggest weapons. But you didn’t want to go to war again, no. You had changed, you’d bloom and blossom.

Yet you could only wonder, who dares to plant flowers on a battlefield?

“Y/N?” Timmy asked.

You only took a deep breath. “I’m—Yeah, you’re right.”

“Yeah, he probably thinks this is the way back to your heart, make you jealous or something,” Timmy said. “Nothing to worry about. I’m—Look, I’m pretty sure he still loves you but he’s an idiot.”

Big idiot wanting to tear you apart.

“You know I don’t understand why I’m —feeling this way,” you admitted. Now knowing you were angry and disappointed. Because he probably really wanted to hurt you, give you a spoon of your own medicine. “I—I don’t understand. How many more tears will I have to shed to get over him?”

“We all wonder about that,” Tim nodded.

“I just—I still, I don’t understand why he does that and why even after he does those things I keep loving him.”

“I think you were told so many times that he hurts you because he likes you that you ended up believing it and allowing it,” Timmy explained. “Maybe that’s why you are having trouble getting used to having people who care.”

You didn’t answer anything. He was right. He was so right.

“I guess but I didn’t...I thought this time.”

“What?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I thought this time it would be different, you know? I thought we would heal and then… have another chance.”

It was so difficult talking about this with Tim. You didn’t know where he was standing with you. But somehow, it had always been easy talking about anything with Tim, he listened. That was his gift. He listened and he was observant so he gave you exactly what you knew was right. His advice even if it hurt him, would be right.

“Maybe you will,” Timmy shrugged. “But you can’t keep yourself tied to him, y/n. It’s—hurtful to keep trying to reach for something that won’t hold back your hand. Give it time. And look, I’m not telling you to move on, because fuck, moving on when you’re in so deep is hard, but be kind to your heart. Don’t let it ache. Not for someone who’s willing to hurt you. And maybe you’ll go back to him, or end up with someone else, but he needs to grow. And if life really wants you to be with him, then life will give you a chance, but I don’t understand why you want to be with someone who does this kind of thing.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, is there anything I can do to help?”

You sighed with a smile. “Turn back time, maybe, get me out of my trance.”

“It’s a big city, y/n, we can take the day off, have fun you know? Go to a quiet place, I know that helps you.”

“I don’t know Tim.”

“C’mon, let’s get you out, have some fun,” he insisted.

“Maybe later, I need to assimilate things. Today I’m going to be at a meeting with casting and—yeah.”

The day felt… plain. The usual feeling you were so used to, the Tom pain. But you ignored it, and you saw the cast, it got you excited and back on track. It made you forget about it, about everything, really.

They still hadn’t told you who’d be directing, but he’d arrive next week. They told you that he had personally reached out for the project, a new director. Exciting news, right? But you couldn’t care about them, because you couldn't ignore the ache. The thoughts, the poison. No matter how sunny the day was, you felt gray. And it was almost ironic. How the day before you felt like everything was great, like rain on your wedding day. Ironic. How it was one of the best things that ever happened to you and you weren’t able to enjoy it. How it weighed on your chest.

Your aunt noticed you were sad, but she didn’t ask about it. You guessed she probably had seen the picture, too. It was her daughter, after all. Serving coffee and making flower arrangements did help, somehow. You know, help as much as it could with the sadness that was not allowed to cry and was supposed to smile instead.

You thought about it, how you really wanted to hate him. The city was too bright and happy and you couldn’t escape, you still didn’t think you’d lost him. Maybe that was your pathetic way of pretending it wasn’t over.

Emma tried to convince you to go out that night. You didn’t. She gave you a week, watching movies with you, letting you listen to music, going out to quiet places for dinner, staying up late at night either laughing or crying, and you were really bonding, watching series, sometimes just laying down on the bed together, while you were both on your phones.. Even if she tried to convince you to go out clubbing, and go out and meet someone, she even tried to make you open tinder, you really didn’t have the energy for it. But Timmy had stopped her from trying.

“That’s her way of healing, she likes quiet,” you had heard Timmy warn her.

“But she needs to keep herself busy,” Emma had said.

“I know her, give her a few quiet days.”

“But she’s a fucking mess,” Emma had said. “I saw her add champagne to her green juice this morning.”

“Like a green juice mimosa?” Timmy asked.

“She’s a mess!” Emma said.

“I know, but she needs quiet, and hugs and just, don’t push her,” Timmy continued. “If not, we’ll use your way.”

In that sense, Timmy knew you. That’s probably why he’d suggest movie nights, the three of you. You’d found a place that played old films, you went there, once.

And a week had gone by, and you weren’t doing better. But you knew it was normal, it was the Tom pain, the Tom effect. The one that didn’t go away easily. The one that lasted, the one that would stay forever. The perennial type of pain, that may be dormant for a while but would come once again. The Tom pain.

But you felt… that horrible thought came back. How she was prettier or skinnier or smarter or perfect and that maybe he hadn’t done it because he wanted to hurt you. That he genuinely liked her. And why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he like her over you? She seemed more of the type fit for him and not you. She was probably the kind of girl that he would like to be seen with. Not you.

Cherry. Cherry. Cherry. It was funny how she was named after Cherryblossoms. Meaning renewal. And that was Tom’s new model, wasn’t it?

Poisonous thoughts that were killing you slowly. And that constant headache.

“Okay, that’s it, we’re doing it my way,” Emma had stated. You’d be going out that night, which you only wondered if it was right. You couldn’t be hungover the next day since you’d be meeting the director. Finally.

But Emma had convinced you. You dressed up, and showered with perfume, and you were ready to simply forget about him. Of course Emma stopped you and then did your makeup and made you change your outfit, which obviously hadn’t been picked out well, but who really gets fashion when they’re broken hearted.

The three roommates, out and happy. Walking into a club, more like a bar sort of place with a dance floor, the three of you sat by the bar.

“Alright, y/n, here’s the thing we’re gonna do some shots,” Emma stated as she ordered shots for the three of you. “And look, I’ve heard you and right now, y/n, we need… We just need you to forget about him, alright?”

“Fine.”

And so it started, the party you so well needed. Maybe you’d changed enough that quiet was definitely not what you needed. And maybe Emma had been right all along. You needed fun. And so fun you had, and you kept drinking and singing along to the music and Emma even dragged you to the dance floor. Yelling lyrics, coming up with new ones and terrible dance steps. Timmy only stayed behind watching you both, he was very amused by the situation. He knew this wasn’t really your thing but, it was fun and exciting and thrilling.

Then the second part of Emma’s plan started, she walked back to the bar and made you sit there.

“Now we wait.”

“For what?” You asked.

“Please, give it two seconds and men will come like this,” she snapped. “They’re soooo desperate, and we’re pretty and we need free booze, so,” she grinned. You could tell she was tipsy by now.

“I don’t really want to… flirt with anyone,” you said.

“Flirt,” she scoffed. “C’mon y/n, you need a cleanse! Tom’s the last man you slept with right?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Timmy laughed.

“Oh, please, Tim, did you think that she wouldn’t sleep with that guy who’s basically sex on legs,” Emma said.

Timmy blinked. “That’s a very weird way to talk about your ex financés brother.”

You laughed. “Sex on legs? Oh come on, I didn’t sleep with him for that.”

“I get it, you were in loooove all that shit,” Emma continued. “And it’s been… What? Two months?” She asked.

“Almost three, yeah,” you rolled your eyes.

“See? You need one good hook up and you’ll be fine,” Emma said.

Timmy chuckled. “Does that even work?”

“Good question, have you hooked up with anybody?” You asked. “Because if you have and you’re still-”

“No, I haven’t,” Emma admitted. “I’ve… made out with some guys but nothing really, but maybe that’s what we both need. Or the three of us, just one… random hookup. We need someone to fuck those guys out of our system.”

Timmy and you shared a questioning look.

“I don’t really—“

“Now, Timmy please leave otherwise you’ll ruin the place, go pick up some girl and dance with her,” Emma ordered.

Timmy didn’t even have time to say anything before Emma was pushing him away.

Soon enough, Emma was right, two guys had approached the two of you and offered to buy you both drinks. The conversation was boring. Honestly you didn’t even listen to their names, they were probably the stereotype of guys who feel they’re attractive enough to get their shot in Hollywood. They were talking and talking, the guy interested in Emma wasn’t half as bad, but you still didn’t stand him. Eventually the guy with Emma managed to get her to the dance floor and the guy with you realized you were not all interested and thank god, eventually walked away.

Two other guys tried to creep up on you but you threw them away, easily and quickly. You were very good at making them go away, maybe that was why Tom had… No, you had to keep that thought out of your head.

“Hello, ma’am May I buy you a drink?” you heard a voice behind you.

You laughed. “Timmy.”

He grinned as he sat beside you. “I’m sorry I just saw a beautiful girl all by herself and I want to buy her a drink.”

“Please don’t,” you grinned.

“I’m just trying to cheer you up,” he admitted, laughing as he took a sip of his own drink.

“Aren’t you interfering with Emma’s plan?” You asked.

He rolled his eyes. “I thought you were doing that yourself by rejecting everyone approaching you,” he claimed.

“Yes I just don’t think that a one night stand with meaningless sex will help me,” you said.

“I agree with that,” he conceded.

You looked around at the bar, you had had fun when you had danced with your friends but not now. Timmy lit up a cigarette and offered you one, you never were a smoker but a cigarette seemed like an open invitation. “I didn’t want to come,” you admitted.

“I didn’t either,” Timmy said.

“But you always go out with her, you like it.”

“No… Well, yeah, because I know this is helping her, not because I like it, you know this isn’t really my thing but she’s keeping herself distracted, that's her way of healing,” Timmy said.

“Huh, right,” you nodded.

“And I know yours involves watching movies in a quiet place, and curling up and all that things,” he continued.

“Yeah,” you smiled sadly.

“He’s an idiot you know,” he looked down at his cigarette.

“Yes he is,” you nodded in agreement as you sipped from your drink.

“Letting you go?” He scoffed, rolling eyes and shaking his head. “Although I do admit it was pretty smart.”

“What?” you frowned with a chuckle.

“I should’ve thought about it,” he continued with a smirk.

“What?” You playfully nudged him.

“Dating your cousin, that’s clever, closest thing to the actual thing,” he snickered.

“Oh thing then,” you laughed.

He chuckled and then looked away with a silly smile. “Yes, but she’s not half as pretty.”

“She is a goddamn model,” you chided.

Tim coughed. “As an actual model,” he reminded you with a smug smirk.

“Oh shut up,” you chuckled.

“As an actual model, I can tell you that she’s not half as pretty as you are,” he assured you.

You blushed. “You’re blind.”

He grinned. “Hmm I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

“I’d see a mess,” you stated.

“Yeah, who drinks green juice mimosas apparently,” he laughed. “But… Pretty mess.”

You laughed. “It’s not...It’s a thing. Green mimosas.”

“It’s not,” he turned serious.

You only grinned.

“So what’s a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?” He asked.

“I’m having fun,” you stated. “Ain’t that obvious?”

“You’re not from around here are you?” He chuckled.

“What gave it away?” You smirked.

“So what brought you to Hollywood?” He laughed.

“What brings everyone I guess, a hopeful promise,” you lied.

He grinned. “Hm, and how’s that going?”

“Huh,” you chuckled.

You didn’t even realize where the conversation had gone to. You ordered drinks, laughed and watched Emma yet again, like Tim had said, turn down another man. Drunkenly the three of you managed to get back home, but you and Tim kept talking and talking, and laughing.

After Emma, too drunk to even continue, was tucked in her bed, you and Tim headed to the couch where you both kept talking about silly things. His job, your job, about the project the three of you were planning, everything but Tom. The difference of being here in LA, how you missed London, but didn’t at the same time, the way that you both found funny people in the bus or the way you hadn’t crossed into any celebrity yet. About the script, and how it felt weird to see it come true, with your life, your love story. Was it love? How different it felt, and how you barely believed it. The way that you didn’t know what to write next.

And you didn’t know how it happened, really. You couldn’t even tell if it had been the alcohol, the conversation, the heartache, a combination of those three things, or maybe not. The absence of love, or how it felt like you had never really had one last proper kiss.

But his lips were on yours. And you really didn’t mind that his hands were pulling you close to him. You really, truly didn’t mind.

Except for the fact that you probably didn’t care and he did.

You pulled away as you felt his hand exploring a bit more than necessary.

“Timmy this isn’t —this isn’t okay,” you said but you weren’t stopping, and he didn’t either. “I don’t want to trick you into doing this,” you said.

“You’re not tricking me,” Tim said as he pulled away. “We both...Fuck this is wrong,” but his lips were back on yours, and your hands were on the hem of his shirt.

“But, no, no,” you finally pulled away. “Tim, no, no, I… can’t.”

“I know, I know, but…”

“I can’t do this to you.”

“I’m not complaining,” he pushed.

“But…”You didn’t even know what the hell you were doing. “I…”

He didn’t even let you finish as he was kissing you again. And again, and again, and again. Until clothes were on your bedroom floor, sweaty wandering hands and lips discovering new spots. Sweet new sensations, and savoury rough kisses. Colliding again, and again, and again. You really didn’t know what you were doing, he probably didn’t either. Because yes, flowers need sunlight, but somehow, something was blooming in the dark.

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cmyknoise · 3 years

Text

Home becomes Home Again

Fandom: MCYT/Dream SMP Characters: Tommyinnit, Technoblade, Philza, Wilbur/Ghostbur, Ranboo & Tubbo are briefly mentioned Relationships: (Platonic Technoblade & Tommyinnit; Sleepy Bois Inc.) Words: 3995 Summary: Things had gotten a bit too quiet for Techno, and he thinks a lot about his family. After a morning of sparring with Tommy, he has a few ideas and it only helps to make their home feel like home again. AO3 Link

Home didn’t feel like home anymore. It was far too quiet and somber. He’d spent years fighting wars in the empire he and Phil had shared. It was loud, freezing. Things had settled down at a point- Phil had taken in two kids. It was then that Phil discovered that Techno had been a kid too. It was then discovered that he and one of the kids shared a birthday- and from that point on he was officially the unofficial twin of one such Wilbur Soot. He stuck around with Phil and his new family, and at some point he supposed he’d been sucked into it.

Growing up within their empire, Technoblade had once been annoyed by how loud and obnoxious his new family had been, but he’d gotten used to it. He’d gotten used to hearing his younger twin belting out ballads like a bard whenever he pleased. He’d gotten used to Tommy screaming as he would jump from the top step to the bottom, trying to fly like their father. He’d gotten used to the stern lectures and loud laughs that Phil would give them. He missed the chaos. It took awhile to call Phil his dad, he still had trouble with it, but it was an understood thing. They were friends and partners in war, and family at home. He missed the loud moments. He missed the quiet moments.

Home didn’t feel like home anymore. Wilbur was no longer there. Ghostbur stopped by, an echo of who his twin was. He supposed Ghostbur was more of a reflection of when they were younger- when Wilbur’s only concerns were his music and friends and family. Ghostbur wasn’t Wilbur, but he was still Techno’s brother. Ghostbur sometimes remembered their childhood- he supposed it was because they were happy memories. It was why the spectre still remembered how to fight- he remembered when they used to spar. Ghostbur didn’t come by often. Techno supposed it was because L’manburg held more recent memories.

Technoblade sat at a lectern in his room, looking through various books and papers. It was late, and the cold icy wind howled outside, shaking the shutters. He hoped Phil was okay. He’d gone out in the morning to go retrieve Ghostbur from L’manburg. According to him, supposedly Ghostbur had gotten a notice of eviction. How they were going to evict a ghost or why was beyond Techno, but the more he heard about L’manburg, the more the hate for the damn country bubbled up within him.

At one point, he wondered if they’d gone too far. Seeing Phil in the control room, hearing Wilbur’s begs for death, and the crater which had been made where land once stood. He’d wondered if they went too far. Had this all been worth it? Had it been right to destroy the place? They’d done an unlawful coup, and based on what the country was doing now...maybe it had been the right decision, maybe. Techno only wished it hadn’t ended in the demise of his twin, a broken family and broken home. There may have been other ways… maybe Techno could’ve found them if he tried harder, or if he tried harder to pull his brother out of his spiraling madness.

The night was loud, and the house grew cold. The fire went out- Techno had to fix that. The house wasn’t empty like it usually was. Tommy was here, sleeping in the basement. No matter how many times Techno tried to coax him upstairs, to sleep in a bed or a couch, the youngest insisted on sticking to the basement. Techno didn’t think forcing the kid would be a good idea. He seemed….fragile. It was strange, Tommy had never been fragile. Honestly if the words Techno lived by were ‘Technoblade never dies’, then he was sure Tommy’s was ‘Tommyinnit is unbreakable’, at least. That’s what he thought until he found his youngest brother in the...state he was in. He looked like if Techno even just poked him, like Tommy would crumble. He decided it was best to let Tommy do what made him happy and feel better, and be there for the background support. Based on what his kid brother had told him… he’d put the pieces together. Dream had hell to pay, that dumb smile would be crushed beneath Techno’s hooves if he had any say on the matter. But that was...that was a later plan.

The fire sputtered to life as Techno added more logs and coal, fueling the furnace to the max. It was the only way the heat seeped into the basement. He should check on Tommy. He’d make it up to him. The moment back in the war- he’d taken it too far, he thinks. The way Tommy shut him out for so long, the trauma he caused- he had to make up for it. There was no fixing it, or taking it back, but he could be better for him. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. He wouldn’t have his last brother be a ghost or become a shell of who he was.

The piglin snatched up a few blankets, and slid down the ladder with. He then kicked open the trap door, climbing his way down into the ‘den’. He glanced up at the ventilation he installed. He doubted Tommy noticed, but it was at least tolerable down there. He glanced at the doors. Tommy was unintentionally smart with installing three doors. It kept out the cold. He glanced around the dark room eyes landing on the blond, curled up in blankets. He looked at ease when he was sleeping. He looked like how he did before he and Wilbur had left home in the empire. Techno longed for that peace again.

He carefully draped the blankets atop the teen, watching as he curled further into them. Tommy didn’t wake, and Techno took the moment to see how he’d changed. Exile hadn’t treated him kindly. Tommy had more scars on his face than Techno ever remembered. His hair had dulled and faded lighter, a symptom of malnutrition. Tommy was still recovering from that. His hair had grown longer- long enough to need to pull back at times. It made him think of himself, how Wilbur taught him how to do such a thing. Wilbur had taught him how to take care of his thick pink locks.

Technoblade ran a hand through his bangs. He hadn’t really taken care of his hair in months, not since Wilbur did it the morning before the war. Even in his crazed state...he’d taken the time to put Techno’s hair into a tight braid, nice and tidy.

“You know how to do this, right Tech?”

The piglin nodded, running a stone over the edge of his blade as he sharpened it, giving a huff. He knew how to put his hair up. He just preferred Wilbur doing it. That’s what he told himself anyway. The brunette laughed softly. It wasn’t maniacal like the laugh that usually echoed the caves of Pogtopia. It was genuine, a laugh at Technoblade. He’d be offended if circumstances were different.

“Then why am I doing this for you, huh?” Wilbur joked as he brushed through Techno’s long hair, not at all stopping. The sound of stone scraping against metal paused as Technoblade gave another soft huff.

“Because you braid it. It stays out of the way better.”

“Awe~ Techie doesn’t know how to braid, does he? Big bad Technoblade- I never taught you how to do that, did I?”

There was a snort from the piglin before he shook his head some, “No, you didn’t.”

“Well...here,” The brunette scooted over some, taking the ends of Techno’s hair, “it’s real simple. You split the hair into three, like this,” he held his hands out with the hair, showing Techno. The piglin set the sword and stone aside as he watched his brother’s hands, gently splitting his hair into sections.

“From here, you take one of the side strands, and cross it over the center. This then becomes the center,” Wilbur demonstrated as he spoke, showing Technoblade slowly as he switched the strands, “You then take the other side strands, switching it with the middle, you repeat this, just switching the sides with the middle. There are more complicated braids, but this is the quickest to do, it’s what I always do with your hair.”

Technoblade smiled some, turning quickly back to his sword. Wilbur rolled his eyes as he undid the braid, starting instead from the top of Techno’s long hair, pulling it back to braid it completely. Techno gave a soft huff and a quiet thanks.

He hadn’t taken his hair down since. It was unkempt, the braid hardly had form anymore. It wasn’t clean or brushed out like usual. Techno hadn’t the heart to take it out yet. He sometimes noticed Ghostbur staring- the ghost had tried to do it for him, but couldn’t seem to grasp his hair, let alone take out the braid and redo it. The ghost seemed to have trouble making contact with living things opposed to inanimate objects. It was something that Techno noticed saddened the ghost- his blue seemed to spill from his pockets whenever he realized he couldn’t easily make contact with others.

He imagined the exile with Tommy wasn’t easy. Even in death, Ghostbur seemed just as much driven as he was in life. He knew it must’ve hurt that he couldn’t help Tommy much, or stop Dream. He hoped Phil would one day figure out how to bring his brother back, if he wanted to come back anyway.

Shaking his head, the piglin fixed the blankets on Tommy, tucking the teen in. He gently ruffled up his hair before heading back to the ladder. He left the trapdoor open this time- it’d help with heat, and he doubted that Dream would come searching so early in the morning. The downstairs doors were locked anyway- he’d have to pass Techno first.

Techno dimmed down the lanterns in the main room, glancing out his windows. He hoped Phil and Wilbur had taken shelter before the storm hit. He hoped he wouldn’t have to go searching in the morning. With a soft huff, he laid down on the couch in the main room, tugging the throw blanket over himself. He was too tired to change, it was late anyway.

₍ᐢ･⚇･ᐢ₎

The morning brought about a bright sun and calmed down winds. Techno had made breakfast, some potato pancakes with honey syrup from his bees. Tommy seemed quite happy with it. When Tommy was here, home started to feel more like home.

Phil still wasn’t back, and while Tommy ate Techno sent him a quick message via their communicators. He was pleased to see Phil respond quickly. They were a ways out, taken shelter in the night, but they were safe. That made him feel better.

“Hey, Toms, want to practice not being awful at pvp?”

“Oi! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Techno chuckled softly, standing up, “Come on, I’ll teach you some sword stuff, before it starts snowing again.”

Tommy couldn’t hide the excitement he had if he tried.

Techno grabbed a few swords on the way out- golden ones, they wouldn’t do a lot of damage but they were good to practice with. He had Tommy put on his coat, an old outfit from when he was younger. He was surprised the empire garb fit Tommy so well, but he was glad the kid could stay warm.

Outside in the snow, Techno taught Tommy how to properly defend blows, they’d been doing this for an hour, easy. The kid was a natural when it came to the offensive, better than Wilbur had been at the same age, but Tommy sucked at getting critical hits and blocking attacks, “Toms you can’t take your eye off of the target, and you have to keep your stance strong.”

“Got it, got it-” Tommy groaned, blocking one of Techno’s slashes, with his sword, taking a step back as Techno pushed forward, copying what he was told, “It’d be much easier if I could see-” With a huff, he blew his wavy blond hair out of his face temporarily, but with another move it was back in front of his eyes. Techno rolled his, and lowered his sword.

“I think spar time can be put on pause. I can teach you how to disarm a foe tomorrow,” He put his sword in the sheath on his belt, offering a hand out to his brother. Tommy put away his own sword, taking the piglin’s hand, “Yeah yeah, nearly better than you at this point, maybe will be in a few more lessons.” The teen grinned proudly.

“Heh? Absolutely not Tommy. You’re better than Wilbur was at your age though, he sucked with a sword.”

“I remember that,” Tommy paused, quieting some as he looked forward as they walked. The mention of their brother seemed to kill the mood, and Techno was not about to let that happen today, “Let’s warm up. Phil should be home soon.”

The two brothers went inside, both taking off their heavy winter clothes, putting the tools aside. After some clean up, and a quick snack of home-made chips, they found themselves on the couch in front of the fireplace. Tommy was fussing with his hair. No matter where he pushed it, it seemed to fall right back in his face.

Techno gave a snort, “Why don’t you just cut it?”

“No! It’ll look like shit. Rather have it long than lookin’ like shit. I have a brand.”

“You could get Phil to cut it.”

“I will not let the old man cut my hair! He just chops it off with a sword, and that is not very pog, probably cut my head off along with my hair.”

Techno snorted, suppressing some laughter. There was a noise at the door as it was pushed open, and speaking of, Phil came inside, Ghostbur by his side. The older man set down a few of his packs by the door, “Did I hear someone just call me an old man?”

Tommy gave a yelp, “Nonono no! Nope!” He grinned. Techno just laughed, as did Phil.

“Sorry I’m late, the storm last night kept us on the shores, and I stopped by the village to pick up some supplies, heard that a large storm is comin’ and we may all get snowed in.”

Techno groaned at the thought. They’d have to go shelter up the bee and turtle farm. Phil seemed to understand the meaning of the groan and he just chuckled, “Seems you two have been getting along-”

“Yeah, Toms hasn’t been too much trouble. How’s L’manburg?”

Ghostbur hummed, “They’re preparing a festival!”

Techno grimaced, “Didn’t go so well last time.”

“I think that may be the plan,” The ghost grabbed the packs and carried them over to the chests to organize, “I’m not sure though! I don’t think I can take part. Eviction notice.”

“Oh yeah- what’s with that?” Techno frowned. He still couldn’t believe they’d evict Ghostbur- he’d even helped rebuild their country on stilts.

Phil hummed, “Well, when we were packing up, Ranboo stopped by- the ender hybrid? Nice kid. He asked what we were doin’, I told him we were leavin’. He didn’t seem to know why, but we mentioned the notice. He was confused- said he’d been to all the meetings and hadn’t heard it bein’ spoken of, but we showed him the notice. Wasn’t signed or anything, but he agreed it may be best to go, just in case.”

“Ranboo hasn’t been liking L’manburg recently! I haven’t either-” Ghostbur furrowed his eyebrows as he put away some leather and wool, “Tubbo imprisoned people and has been holding trials. I remember that’s not the L’manburg way, but he wouldn’t listen much. Tensions are high, I think.”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably, “I think I’m gonna move my stuff up here guys, if it’s going to storm I don’t think the den is a good fucking place to be- would hate to freeze to death.” He chuckled some, standing up, “Tech where should I put everything?”

The piglin gave a hum, “I can move around the chests, by the brewing stands would be a good place for now. I’ll have to extend the house some when the storm is older. It wasn’t built for all of us.”

Tommy nodded before heading down the ladders. Techno gave a small huff, running a hand through his hair before getting up, “I’ll move around the chests, set up cots. Phil if you want you can go cover up the bees and turtles, there should be some tarps and leather instilators on the first floor chests-”

“Gotcha mate, will do,” Phil gave a small wave before heading outside and to the back, shutting the door securely. Wilbur hummed, “Oh! Techno, can Friend stay downstairs with your cow for awhile, he’s outside, but I don’t want anything happening to him- I don’t know what I’d do if something did-”

“Yeah, go ahead Ghostbur…” Techno paused, “Hey Ghostbur?”

“Yeah Techno?” “Can you braid shorter hair?”

“Oh! Oh yes, you can! You just have to make smaller strands- why?”

“Just wonderin’. You mind if I borrow some blue? Think I may need some later.”

The ghost gave a grin, shoving his hand into his pocket as he handed Techno a small pouch of blue powder. The piglin took it, and went on to reorganize the main room, while his spectre of a brother finished up organizing and went on out to help Friend into the lower house.

₍ᐢ･⚇･ᐢ₎

Home started to feel like home when Techno could hear Phil snoring from upstairs and the warmth of the fire bombarded him in the face as he threw another log on. Tommy slept nearby, a light wind from outside whistling against the windows. Home started to feel like home when his family was all there. Phil was safe and around again. Ghostbur was not Wilbur but he was still his brother and he was here and well. Tommy was getting better at being chaotic and unbreakable again.

Speaking of Tommy, Techno noticed the floorboards creak and the weight of the couch shift as the teen sat behind him, rubbing his eyes and yawning softly, huffing hair from his face again.

“Dreams again?” “Yeah, fuckin’ nasty ones too,” Tommy gave a small whine as he blinked himself awake. Techno swore he’d make sure that the cause of his brother’s nightmares would pay the price.

“Hair still bugging you?”

Tommy gave a soft laugh and a nod, “Fuckin’ awful, innit?”

Techno chuckled, “I...I think I may have a solution for you.” Techno turned some to him. Tommy gave a hum, “Try anything big man, too tired to care, sick of the fuckin scratchy feelin’ on my face-” He gave another yawn.

The piglin gave a nod, pulling a few things from his pocket, setting it beside him, “Come here then, Toms.” Tommy nodded and scoot right over.

Techno brushed his fingers through Tommy’s hair gently, giving a soft huff as he parted it. God when did his raccoon-looking-ass of a brother brush his hair? He was one to question, really, huh? Techno grabbed a small elastic band, and took the back of Tommy’s hair. It was far too short in the back to do anything with other than tie it into a short ponytail, but it kept the hair at the sides of his head out of the way. He motioned for Tommy to face him, and tiredly the teen did. Techno then gently parted away Tommy’s bangs, and slowly he parted them into three.

“Side… middle.... side…” Techno muttered as he carefully braided Tommy’s hair, focusing on the pattern. Tommy gave a small laugh but let him continue. When it was completed, he pinned it along the side of his head and behind his ear. Tommy reached up, touching it briefly before grinning.

Techno chuckled, “Hope it helps, go back to bed Toms. If you do I’ll show you my secret stash of chocolate made from cocoa beans. Don’t tell Phil.”

Tommy nodded, “Yeah- alright. Thanks, blade.”

Techno gave a snort, “Alright, child. Go to bed.” He stood, letting Tommy head back to his cot. He still had a few things to do on his own.

Both failed to notice the head peeking down from the ladder from upstairs, and the smile on a certain ghost’s face, or the happy tears which fell down the ghost’s cheeks.

Once Tommy was in bed, Techno went to the kitchen and started carefully boiling some water, adding in the blue from Ghostbur. For the first time in months, Technoblade reached back and pulled out the old hair tie from his hair, running his fingers through the matted braids of his hair, undoing the mess.

His hair was still clean, he washed it, but now it was wavy from being forced into a braid for so long, and it was definitely damaged in some way. That was a problem to fix later. He sighed as he combed through his hair carefully, bringing a stool near the stove as he waited for water to boil, combing through the knots in his hair, making it smooth again. It hurt some, and he stared at the hair tie a bit too long, but he pocketed it for safekeeping. Techno tied his hair back some, and took a few thick strands of his hair, separating it from the rest. After a tedious process of switching boiling blue water to a bowl, he would lean in and dunk the strands of hair into the blue, staining the pale pink with the deep vibrant color.

Home was feeling more lively and colorful, and it was time for Techno to change to match.

After carefully dying bits of his hair, and tying it back into a long ponytail, he got to work on braiding it, just like Wilbur had done for him in the past. After he was satisfied, he stored the remainder of the dye and cleaned up, going to bed as if he’d done nothing at all, but it was the first time in a long time that he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

₍ᐢ･⚇･ᐢ₎

In the morning, Phil laughed and smiled, and the family couldn’t stop talking about Techno’s blue additions of hair, or how clean the braid looked. They also couldn’t stop talking about how Tommy could see again through his hair. They couldn’t stop talking about Friend downstairs, or the breakfast Techno had made.

Phil laughed at how secretly sappy Techno really was. He commented that Tommy looks good with his hair tied back (promptly getting a laugh and ‘damn right’ from Tommy).

Techno brushed Phil off with the excuse for ‘new eras bringing new changes’, and that it matched their empire outfits- it was time to recreate what they had before (that included recreating their family, but he wouldn’t say that).

Tommy wouldn’t stop joking about the blue, but he also couldn’t stop touching his braided bangs or the small ponytail. He also wouldn’t stop bothering Phil about being old.

Ghostbur smiled. For the first time in a very long time, the transparent dust in his hands didn’t turn blue. He remembered teaching Techno how to braid, he wouldn’t tell him that he saw how careful he was with Tommy when braiding his hair. He wouldn’t tell him how happy he was that he was able to pass down something despite his death. He’d smile and laugh along, but the soft yellow dust in his hands showed just how happy he felt to be home, that his brothers got along again, that his father was there with them again.

Home became home again, and this time, they’d keep it that way.

#dream smp #sleepy bois inc #technoblade #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #philza #ghostbur #fluff #this is pure fluff #takes place where everything is canon up to the point of tommy living with technoblade #also they're found family #found family rights #lemon writes #lemon writes 2020

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five-rivers · 3 years

Text

Long Night in the Valley chapter 10

“So,” said Ochako. “Do we open the door, or…?”

The door was unassuming and bland. Very… doorlike. It was also the only way forward unless they wanted to backtrack several hundred feet.

Incidentally, no one was standing directly in front of the door. Ochako wondered if that was a coincidence, or if they were all just that wary of things after these past few hours.

Aizawa sighed heavily and hauled open the door. It was dark inside, with a single spotlight illuminating a small sign that said, ‘This way to 5.’

“That’s suspicious!” said Iida.

“So it is,” agreed Aizawa, squinting into the dark. “I’ll go.”

Walked to the sign, and the rest of them tensed, ready to jump in to help at any sign of danger. The lights suddenly turned on, and music began to blare. A large television screen played a video of a dancing man.

“A rickroll,” said Todoroki, reverently.

If Aizawa’s sigh had been any heavier, it would have had its own gravitational pull.

“Yeah,” said Six, voice as emotionless as ever. “Great job, everyone, you got here.”

“Was that really necessary?”

“What?” asked Six.

“The music,” said Aizawa.

“Consider it a practical demonstration,” said Six. “The farther in you go, the older we are, and the more experience we have with this kind of landscape.” He ran his hand over the sign, and Ochako gasped as patterns and colors followed his fingers.

“You’re younger than Skyrunner or All Might, though,” said Ochako. “You’re the same age as Aizawa-sensei.”

“Well, yes, but actually no,” said Six. “I was here before they were. I’m older.”

Ochako’s senses, honed by months living in a building with nineteen other teenagers, detected an opportunity for teasing. She pressed her hand to her lips and put on her slyest smile. “Are you? Reaaaally?”

“Memes,” said Todoroki, nodding gravely.

“I can see why Nine likes you so much.”

Six grabbed Aizawa’s sleeve preventing him from moving on with the others.

“If you’re trying to keep me away from my kids, I suggest you don’t.”

Six raised an eyebrow. “Your kids, huh? You know, we had a bet running about that.”

“Excuse me?”

“Anyway, I wanted you to hear this, first. You can decide if you want to tell them, after, but they are Nine’s friends. I don’t want to be responsible for them running off on their own without your knowledge.”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me something that could help Midoriya but will be incredibly dangerous.”

“Are you sure your secondary quirk isn’t precognition?”

“I am saving my crisis about that until we get out of here. This waste of time is illogical.”

“Right. So. Remember when I said that Nine didn’t get to choose who we were?” He gestured at himself.

“Yes,” said Aizawa, already hating where this was going.

“There’s someone who we don’t count as one of our number.”

Now Aizawa really didn’t like where this was going. “You mean, you’ll count terrorists, but not… this person.”

“Yeah. Usually, we keep him locked away, but with all this disruption…”

“He’s gotten out.”

“Not yet. What I’m telling you now may not be relevant at all. But if that door does open, I want you to have this option. Not all the others agree the risk is worth it, but I think that should be up to you, since you’d be the one taking it.”

“What option?”

“That person, he took something from Nine, back when his quirk first manifested. You know all the guys you ran into back when you were in his mind space? He took one of those. I think, and most of the others agree, that it would be beneficial if he got it back.”

“He took part of Midoriya’s personality.”

“Yes, you can think about it that way.”

“That part wouldn’t happen to be something like self-preservation, common sense, or grudge-holding, would it?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

“When you reach One, if you want to try to get it back for Nine, ask One if the vault it open.”

“Exactly how dangerous would this be.”

“Horribly. But you probably wouldn’t die. This quirk comes with a time limit. Otherwise, we wouldn’t ask at all.” Six let go of Aizawa’s sleeve. “Your students are waiting for you. You should go.”

Aizawa stepped into the dark. A battle strobed against the darkness. No, two. One with Six and a man who must be Five, and another with Six and Shimura Nana. Both battles were against a darkness whose silhouette resembled the monster of Kamino Ward far too much for Aizawa’s comfort.

“You’re next!” shouted two overlapping voices.

Aizawa blinked. He was in a well-lit street, looking at what could only be the so-called Five.

Izuku woke up slowly. Being asleep had kept some of the pain at arm’s length, but now it returned with a vengeance, along with an oddly comforting pressure.

Oh, Toshinori had fallen asleep wrapped around him. That was nice. They really should start moving again, though.

The ground rumbled, and Izuku realized what had woken him up.

“Toshinori,” he said, shaking him the best he could from his position. “Wake up. There’s an earthquake.”

Toshinori blinked awake. “Did you call me Dad?”

“No?”

“Back in the city?”

“Um. Earthquake. What do we… uh, do?” He didn’t know what the earthquake drill for the middle of the forest was. Four had, but Izuku was having trouble understanding him over the pounding in his head.

“It isn’t shaking anymore,” observed Toshinori. “We should probably still go.” He rubbed his eyes. “Let’s get you patched up first. I can’t believe I fell asleep without making sure you were alright…”

“I’m fine,” protested Izuku, trying to stand up. He could just keep using Blackwhip to stabilize—

The space behind his eyes turned white. When it became clear again, he found himself pressed against Toshinori’s shirt.

“Toshinori,” he whined, because he couldn’t help it, and, oh, no, he was such a burden he shouldn’t be making Toshinori hold his weight, he was a lot heavier than he looked, but his head was pounding and his eyes felt like they were bleeding and his skin felt like sandpaper, “it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” said Toshinori. “Let me take care of you, please?”

Toshinori lowered him back to the log and started to remove medical supplies from the pockets of his coat.

“What are we going to do after this?” asked Izuku, voice as quiet as he could make it without whispering.

“That is an excellent question, my boy,” said Toshinori in an imitation of his usual heartiness. “As you might imagine, I’ve acquired a number of contacts over the years. Some of them are comfortable with, ah, less than legal escapades.”

“I didn’t think you had any friends other than Detective Tsukauchi and Mr. Shield. And maybe Gran.”

Toshinori hunched his shoulders. Izuku immediately felt bad.

“Well, you aren’t wrong. Contacts and friends are in two different categories, I’m afraid. In any case, I’m hoping to eventually reach one of them, and then…” He trailed off, and Izuku got the sense that Toshinori was bracing himself for Izuku being upset. “I am hoping to arrange passage to I-Island.”

“We’re leaving Japan?”

“Just until we get this cleared up,” said Toshinori.

Izuku rubbed his eyes. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “What about Shigaraki and All for One?”

“Not your responsibility,” said Toshinori.

“It kind of is.”

“It really isn’t.”

“It’s our family.”

“I know. At least, I know now. Goodness. I don’t think I’ve wrapped my head around it, yet.” Toshinori rubbed his temples with his wrists, keeping his dirty fingers well away from his eyes.

“What about before that?” asked Izuku, guiltily changing his line of questioning.

“I have a few other safe houses around here. Funny story about one of them. Completely abandoned building on public land. Was being used by some anti-mutant cult. No one ever came to check it out after the initial arrest. So. Finders keepers.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“All Might,” said Izuku, suppressing a giggle despite the seriousness of the situation, “that’s illegal.”

“I have done a surprisingly large number of illegal things in my life. Comes from fighting with a centuries-old monster the government doesn’t want to acknowledge as existing.”

“They’ve acknowledged him now,” observed Izuku.

“Hasn’t seemed to help much, has it? Anyway, that one shouldn’t be too far from here. Probably. It will still be quite a walk. We’ll stay there, for a while. Until I can reach one of my contacts.” Toshinori sighed. “I think the one in Deika will be out best bet. He works in the shipping industry. I’ll have to introduce you, just in case we end up separated.”

Izuku pretended the last sentence didn’t send him into a spiral of panic.

Of course, this spiral of panic was interrupted by an entirely different panic, because the ground started to shake again.

“I can Float us—”

“Don’t, you’ll hurt yourself,” said Toshinori, keeping a tight grip around Izuku’s bicep.

Toshinori’s hands were extremely large. A tree crashed to the ground in the distance. Accompanying that sound was a roar too loud and animal to be completely human, but too coherent to not be human.

Toshinori went pale.

“Someone you know?” asked Izuku, covering his ears to keep the sound from battering his brain any further.

“We need to go,” said Toshinori, bundling up all the supplies he’d taken out. “We need to go right now.”

“All for One?” whispered Izuku, getting to his feet. “A gigantification quirk?”

“One of his subordinates,” said Toshinori. “One I never managed to find. I’d hoped—Of all the luck—” He started cursing under his breath in English.

Maybe Izuku really did have a villain-attracting quirk.

The shaking of the ground grew stronger. “Run,” said Toshinori. “Don’t look back for me.” Toshinori had to know that wouldn’t fly (or float) with Izuku, because a second later his face twisted up in something like resignation.

Izuku grabbed Toshinori’s wrist. He could Float them both out of here.

Blinding pain lanced through his brain again.

Okay, maybe he couldn’t.

The ground in front of them erupted. A craggy giant burst up from below.

“Little Lord!” the giant shouted, voice more than loud enough to hurt. A massive hand picked Izuku up, holding him gently but extremely firmly. “I’m SO HAPPY to see you again!”

Something clicked in the back of Izuku’s head. A memory he didn’t know he had resurfaced.

“H-Hi, Machia,” he said.

“Did this bald man kidnap you?! He smells like All Might! But All Might is yellow. Should I kill him?”

“No,” said Izuku. “He’s definitely not All Might. He’s, uh, a friend.”

“HELLO LITTLE LORD’S FRIEND.”

“Hello,” said Toshinori, waving a little, clearly in shock.

Machia shifted to wave at Toshinori and Izuku hissed as the movement jostled his injuries. His minor injuries. His very minor injuries that weren’t bothering him at all.

Who do you think you’re kidding, kiddo?

Not helping, Grandma.

“Little Lord! Are you hurt?” Machia sniffed him. “You smell like blood! I have to bring you to the doctor!”

“The what?” asked Izuku, alarmed.

“Don’t worry, Little Lord! He is a very good doctor! We must go!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Izuku, before Machia could get more than three humongous steps away from Toshinori. “It isn’t my blood, it’s the blood of my enemies!”

“Lord tried that one, too, Little Lord!”

“But—”

“Oh! I forgot your friend!” Machia turned around. “Sorry, Little Lord’s friend!” He picked up an increasingly distressed Toshinori and continued stomping through the forest.

Izuku realized that Machia was headed back towards town.

“Wait!” he shouted, despite not having a plan for what to do next.

“Wait?” repeated Machia, balancing on one foot.

Thankfully, Izuku’s brain churned out a plan. “My friend here,” said Izuku, gesturing at Toshinori, “has a house nearby. It would be better if we went there, and then the doctor can come to us.”

Machia grinned, which was honestly an unsettling sight. “You’re just like Lord, Little Lord! Always making plans.” He brought Izuku up to his face, close enough that Izuku could feel his (oddly minty-fresh) breath and bonked the top of his head with his nose.

“Do you brush your teeth, or do you have a quirk for that?” asked Izuku before he could think better of it.

“Lord gave me a tooth-brushing quirk! He said he was tired of smelling my morning breath. I do not know why he said that, because it was night. But he gave this quirk to me! It was very generous of Lord.” said Machia, delighted. “How did you know?”

Izuku decided not to go down the rabbit-hole of his reasoning and shrugged. “Lucky guess?”

Machia laughed. “Lord says that, too, sometimes! I am very glad to see you, Little Lord. I have missed my Lord very much, and you are just like him!”

Seven vaguely annoyed and insulted ghosts buzzed in the back of Izuku’s head.

“I am also glad that you did not grow up to be as big as me! You would be much harder to carry if you did.”

Apparently Izuku was not the only one with a propensity for rabbit-hole thoughts, because he could not imagine a scenario where it would be reasonable to expect him to grow to be as big as Machia.

“So,” he said, “you’ll take us to my friend’s house?”

“Yes, Little Lord! And then we can call the doctor, and he will take care of you!”

Izuku didn’t think Machia meant to be ominous, and yet.

“So,” said Aizawa, surveying the man up and down. “You’re the one that decided the best place for my student to develop an unstable, highly dangerous, and painful quirk was the middle of a high-adrenaline training exercise full of other students.”

“Hey,” said the man, scratching the back of his head, “no one got hurt, and when you’ve been dead as long as I have, you start looking for entertainment wherever you can get it. Besides, you’re the one that let the training exercise keep going.”

“According to your compatriot back there,” Aizawa said, hooking a finger over his shoulder, “you haven’t been dead at all.”

Five jolted and ran his knuckles over his bandoleer. “Yeah, it’s easy to forget.”

It was great to know that Five was trash at lying. True, he’d been told up front that Six’s explanation would be at least partially false, but still.

Aizawa sighed.

Five, who’d also introduced himself as Lariat and Banjo Daigoro, appeared to be a fairly typical hero for his era. Minimal hero costume repurposed from military gear, worn with just a bit of flair, indicating that the celebrity status of heroes probably hadn’t fully set in yet. Ammunition for a sidearm, although the sidearm itself was well hidden. The gun was probably bulky, but if Aizawa didn’t miss his mark, those were stun rounds. Eye protection, but not head protection. Not that Aizawa could complain about that, considering.

“Anyhow, if you’re all here, let’s go.” The man clapped his hands together, activated his quirk, and proceeded to fling Aizawa and his students through the air, without warning.

“Sorry ‘bout this!” said Five. “But we don’t have time for the whole history lesson! Just the highlights!”

Brief battles flared to life around them as Five dashed sideways along skyscraper walls and swung from building to building.

“I always thought of myself as a sort of Spider Man, y’know?”

“I don’t know that hero, sir!” shouted Iida over the whistling wind.

“Pre-quirk comic book character,” explained Five. “Most of ‘em got censored after the first quirk boom. Didn’t want to give anyone ideas. But by my time, with the pro hero scene starting up, they came back in a big way!” Five landed in front of a large convention center. “This’s where they held the first Modern Comic Convention in Japan. Or ModiComiCon for short.”

“And we couldn’t walk here, because?” asked Aizawa, suppressing an increasing urge to commit murder.

“I thought my way was more fun,” said Five. “Haven’t you always wanted to travel like that?”

Aizawa tugged on his scarf. “I do. Frequently. Under my own power.”

“Another Aizawa-sensei,” decided Todoroki, quiet but decisive. “Aizawa-sensei, but… funkier.”

That did it. Once this was over, he was expelling all the problem children and taking a vacation. The Rat God could find a sub.

“This is where I met Four the first time,” said Five, pushing the doors open. The auditorium was filled with rows upon rows of booths. All empty of people of course.

Aizawa, grudgingly, followed.

First contact.

Those voices… Something about them… The number.

“Those are your voices,” said Aizawa.

“Yep!” said Five. “It’s a special moment, you know?”

Aizawa frowned. At this point, he highly doubted that these ‘vestiges’ were simply based on real people. The vestiges themselves had to have reason to suspect that they were at least remnants of real people to give themselves a name like that, and with All Might thrown into the mix…

Add to that the repeated themes, the oddly ritualistic components (First contact and you’re next), Midoriya’s closeness with All Might, and Aizawa got—

Honestly, he had no idea. The fact that All Might was still alive tended to rule out the ‘Midoriya’s quirk is that he’s haunted’ theory, which, admittedly, was rather flimsy to begin with. Perhaps it was a legacy-dependent quirk, reaching back from student to teacher? He would be skeptical—Most quirks had some kind of logic to them, and there was no way to extrapolate entire people from contact with their successor—but Vlad King had a student whose head was a manga speech bubble and other abstract quirks existed. So.

It still didn’t feel right. Surely, Midoriya would have figured out his quirk before he was fourteen in that case. Unless All Might had to be involved for some reason.

Also, the fact that they called Midoriya Nine. Six’s explanation for that didn’t even make a little bit of sense.

Not to even mention the hints that All for One actually was involved in this somehow.

“Banjo-san,” said Aizawa, “there’s no truth in the commission’s accusations, is there?” He could have asked Six, but logically, Six would be the best liar, if he was the one chosen to relay the lie. Banjo Daigoro seemed rather less adept at deception.

The world seemed to gray out a bit. “Are you kidding me? What part?” asked Five, his eyebrows disappearing under his goggles.

“Yeah, sensei, there’s no way Izuku-k—”

“I’m not asking about Midoriya. I’m asking about you. How are you connected to All for One?”

Five opened his mouth, lips drawing back to reveal his teeth. He looked unspeakably offended. “You don’t think we actually work for that bastard—”

“Excuse me, sir!” interrupted Iida after Five had tacked on several rather fouler epithets. “There are minors present!”

“Oops,” said Five. “Anyway, we do not work for All for One,” he continued, failing to answer the question Aizawa had asked.

“That isn’t what he asked,” said Todoroki.

Alright. Maybe Todoroki wasn’t all bad. He was still on thin ice.

“Excuse me, is this a bad time?”

Aizawa nearly jumped out of his skin as a terrifyingly tall man in a hero costume appeared at the edge of his peripheral vision. He was taller than Yagi.

Actually, wait. Aizawa’s expert eyes roamed over the man’s hero costume. That was cosplay, not professionally done. The man was standing there, in Midoriya’s head, in front of two professional heroes, wearing cosplay. It looked like it had been hand-sewn.

It also looked like it had been used. And inexpertly reinforced. Even for a vigilante.

Somehow, in retrospect, this made Midoriya’s choice to wear a costume his mother had made for him for his first training session make much more sense.

Of course, Midoriya would have someone as ridiculous as he was in his head. Of course, he would have several people as ridiculous as he was in his head.

“Four, I presume.”

“I prefer Shimura, actually.”

“Oh!” said Uraraka. “Are you related to Skyrunner?”

“She’s my adopted sister’s descendant,” said Shimura/Four.

“Hey, hey, I thought we weren’t telling them this stuff,” said Five.

Shimura blinked. “My apologies.” He paused. “However, considering the structure of my mental domain, it is likely that they would have discovered my chosen name in short order.”

“Who do you think he’s based on?” asked Iida, leaning towards Todoroki.

“I can’t put my finger on it,” said Todoroki, “but he does feel familiar.”

“And why is that?” asked Aizawa, pretending he couldn’t hear his students.

“I have a lot of unresolved trauma relating to my biological parents and also my quirk.”

“Ohhhh,” said Todoroki. “He’s based on me.”

Wow. Another horrible thing Aizawa would have to deal with when he woke up.

“Isn’t your quirk Danger Sense?”

“That’s what Five-chan calls it.”

There was something extremely disturbing about this tall, intimidating, eyebrowless man calling another muscular intimidating adult man chan.

“But I call it—”

“Please don’t—” interjected Five.

“—super anxiety.”

“Why?” cried Five. “Danger Sense is a much better name! It’s like Spidey Sense! Like Spider Man! You like Spider Man.”

“Yes,” said Shimura, “but I am not Spider Man. However, that reminds me.” He turned his unblinking gaze towards Todoroki. “Nine-chan has several plans for removing your father. I believe only about half of them are workable, but it’s the thought that counts. At least, that’s what Yagi-chan says.”

“You mean All Might?” asked Aizawa. If his soul hadn’t already left his body, it would now be preparing to do so.

“No, my wife.”

“Yeah, don’t think about it too hard,” said Five. “He’s always been like this. I mean, he came up to me in the middle of this convention to tell me about a bunch of underworld deals going on out of town. I thought he was, like, some especially serious cosplayer, but then he showed up at my apartment, too.” The surroundings briefly shimmered into something that might have been the mentioned apartment before resolving themselves back into the comic convention.

“I apologize, I did not realize that was inappropriate.”

“I’m this little baby hero, just a couple years out of training, no name for myself, and this guy shows up like he’s in the middle of one of those old video games. Like, ‘here, take this old legend and defeat the demon king, you level one peasant.’”

“I didn’t expect you to fight him right away,” said Four, looking both vaguely offended and confused, and now, yeah, okay, Aizawa could see a vague resemblance to Todoroki.

“I’m still not entirely sure why you picked me, of all people. There had to be a dozen others with the right, uh, requirements.”

“Requirements, huh?” asked Aizawa, having finally managed to shove the part of his brain screaming about the ‘wife’ comment into a tiny, locked box in the back of his brain.

“Yes. As my other adoptive sister said, one must possess a strong will, an indomitable spirit, a sharp mind, a pure heart, and a ceaseless drive to save others, both body and soul.” He paused for a moment. “She also said something about being ‘just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing,’ but I believe that was a reference to the book she was reading at the time. Her parentage was certainly known at that point.”

“Y’see? I can never tell if this guy is serious or just pulling my leg.”

“Why would I pull your leg? Do you need to pop it?”

“I’m beggin’ you, man, learn some idioms.”

“WAIT!” shouted Todoroki. “Are you related to All Might? Is he your secret love child?”

The silence stretched between them.

“I don’t know what that is,” said Four. “You keep asking Nine if he’s one of those. What does it mean? Is it a good thing?”

“ANYWAY,” said Five, loudly. He attempted to prop his elbow on Four’s shoulder, but the height difference defeated him. “Four and I had lots of semi-legal adventures—”

“No, we didn’t,” said Four.

“Became best friends—”

“My wife is my best friend.”

“Let me have this.”

“Have what?”

Five sighed. “Okay, whatever. Fine. Can you cross them over here?”

“I think I’ll need the other one, unfortunately.”

“Why are you different, by the way?” asked Uraraka. “The ones before stayed in their own mindscapes, it seemed.”

“Oh,” said Four. “I’m having flashbacks. Because of…” He trailed off, then sighed. “Flashbacks.”

Right. Wonderful. “We’re going to have to deal with your flashbacks, aren’t we?” Aizawa asked.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Four said. “I apologize for my habit of oversharing.”

“This and that are two completely different things.”

“They seem like the same thing to me,” said Todoroki.

“I am inclined to agree. I also apologize for the things you may see. I will attempt to keep you away from the more disturbing sections.”

“Great,” said Aizawa. “Can we stop wasting time?”

“We aren’t really wasting time,” said Four. “At the moment, dream time is compressed. We’ve only been talking for…” He tilted his head to the side. “Perhaps a second, in terms of real-world time.”

“He’s right,” said Five, crossing his arms and nodding.

“Seconds are still time,” said Aizawa, hoping they’d get the hint.

“I suppose—Oh. You’re frustrated. Apologies. Neither of us have interacted with anyone but the others in… Quite some time. I fear our sense of hurry has been damaged. Especially with how distracted we all are.”

“Why are you distracted, if you don’t mind us asking?” asked Iida.

“Another unwanted guest is trying to get in and Nine and Ei—Nine managed to run into someone extremely dangerous.”

Eight. These people had a ‘live’ connection to All Might, too, damn it, and the blond idiot was wherever Midoriya was. Maybe that should have reassured him, somewhat, because even if All Might was retired, he was still All Might, but, by some dark magic, when All Might and Midoriya were placed in proximity to one another, they gained the ability to spawn problems that Aizawa had never even heard of before.

Like this one.

“Our final meeting, then?”

“I believe that would be appropriate.”

Black tentacles exploded from Five, covering the space around them. When they receded, they were in a different place. Underground, if Aizawa didn’t miss his guess. A safe house of some kind?

Flickering doppelgangers of Four and Five occupied the space.

“Why didn’t you transport us like that before?” asked Todoroki.

“Had to take the long way the first time,” said Five. “That lady’s quirk changed some of the rules. You ready, Four?”

“Let it play out,” said Four, gazing at the static figures.

“Your choice,” said Five, shrugging.

The ‘real’ Five and Four abruptly vanished, and the doubles started moving.

“I suspect this is the last time we will meet,” said an older Four to a younger Five.

“Huh? Why’s that?” said Five, twisting in his chair so that his arms rested on the top of the back.

Four stared blankly at a wall. “Everything is coming to a head, now. I’ve chosen to put my faith in you and the new laws.”

“Huh?”

“The last push of the old era… My big sister would scold me for trusting you.”

“Dude, you’re not making any sense.”

“My apologies.” Four turned to look more directly at Five. “The new quirk laws and the establishment of the Hero Commission are steps in the right direction, as evidenced by your existence.”

“Yeaaah, sure,” said Five. “But what does that have to do with not seeing each other again?”

“They’re not enough,” said Four. “Even now, certain existences cannot cry out for help. What do you do, when you can’t turn off your quirk?”

“You’re not going to go terrorist on me here, are you?” asked Five, nervously.

“No. I just want you to be aware,” said Four. He tilted his head to the side. “Whenever I go home, now, there’s danger on the horizon, and I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”

“Is it him?”

“No. I don’t believe so.” He sighed. “I suspect it’s the Special Task Force, to be honest.”

“They were disbanded,” said Five. “Any one of ‘em that didn’t get absorbed by the Hero Commission got let go. Or, er, what’s the term? Discharged.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” said Four. “Perhaps this is simply paranoia. I would certainly like it to be.”

“Look,” said Five. “Maybe I can help. You’ve never told me where y’all live, and—”

“Absolutely not. I am quite certain that he is still monitoring me to some extent. You do not want to be on his radar, Daigoro-chan.”

“Dude. Why do you keep calling me that?”

“You haven’t told me to stop.”

Five sighed. “I get it, I get it. Just… let me know if there’s anything I can do. I’m a hero for a reason.”

Four smiled faintly. “I know,” he said. “After all, I chose you. Good luck, Daigoro-chan. I think you’ll be able to do it.” He started walking away, towards the door.

“You, too, old man. Souma.”

Four stopped with his hand on the door.

“I believe we will see each other again,” continued Five. “Count on it!”

“In this life or the next,” agreed Four. He opened the door.

As they crossed over from Five’s domain into Four’s, the dream around them did not shift seamlessly, staying in the same general location with only the details changing like it had for the others, but dissolved into something not quite like static and then blank whiteness before fading back in.

They were standing in the middle of a battlefield, a ruined landscape.

Not the ruins of a city, though, which made this only more jarring. For all that Shouto was only a teen, he’d seen his fill of city battles. He was used to villain fights.

The only time he’d seen this kind of devastation in a place like this had been at the forest training camp last summer. He swallowed, eyes rolling over uprooted and burning trees, huge craters and ruts in the soil, and the rare bit of roofing and wall. He realized, belatedly, that this must be the remains of a small, rural village.

He stiffened at the sound of someone crying.

“Over there,” said Uraraka, pointing.

Shouto turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered man in a suit hunched over one of corpses. His face was shrouded in smoke.

As he watched, he realized he wasn’t crying over a corpse. The other man was still breathing, his eyes were still open.

(It was hard to recognize Four’s face under all those injuries.)

He stepped forward, wondering if he should help, if he even could help. His hand passed through the man’s shoulder with no resistance.

“Shigaraki…” said the uninjured man. “Shigaraki Hibiki, you foolish child…”

Shouto wasn’t the only one to gasp.

“’S not my name an’more,” rasped the injured man, Four, Shouto realized now. “’N they gottaway, din’ they? ‘Sworth it…”

“What do you mean, it’s not your name? Of course it’s your name. It’s the one I gave you. The one you should have been born with. It’s your name.”

“M’name’s…” The man on the ground panted.

“Shh, shh, don’t talk, don’t talk Hibiki, I’m sorry I snapped. Don’t worry, Daddy’s going to make it all better, son. A healing quirk…”

“Name’s…” slurred the man. “Shimura… Souma… You…” He took a deep, rattling breath. “You don’t… own… me. I’m…” He made a sound that might have been a laugh. “Free.”

The scene began to go dark. Before the last of the light was gone, the uninjured man spoke again. “Shimura,” he hissed, voice promising violence, “was it?”

Yagi Toshinori was having the most surreal experience of his entire life. Considering his life included that awful college party in America, the one where he learned that One for All did not mesh well with psilocybin, that was saying a lot.

Here he was, riding on the shoulders of a man who had tried to kill him on the behalf of his worst enemy multiple times, alongside his student and successor, who was being called ‘Little Lord’ by the man carrying them. They were having an admittedly fascinating conversation about the man’s quirks, multiple, one that Toshinori was only barely keeping up with. Two of them were being actively hunted by the government.

That is, Toshinori, the retired professional hero, and Izuku, the licensed hero student, were on the run from the government. Not Gigantomachia, the mass-murdering minion of All for One, who was quite possibly the evilest man alive.

(And also, possibly Izuku’s father. But no one wanted to think about that.)

(Not to mention all the things going on in their heads.)

(This level of connection to One for All was thrilling, but also incredibly strange.)

Oh. And they were going to one of Toshinori’s safehouses. With Gigantomachia. True, Toshinori hadn’t been to this one in a while, but it was still a place that was supposed to be safe, hence safehouse, and Gigantomachia was decidedly not safe.

He was also going to be difficult to get rid of, because he had a sense enhancement quirk that let him track down individuals he was familiar with from miles away. Toshinori knew this, because Gigantomachia was currently happily telling Izuku all about it.

Surreal.

Izuku reached over and patted him on the shoulder.

Ah, yes, this was only made more surreal by the fact that Toshinori could feel how much pain Izuku was in, but the boy hardly showed any of it. It made him wonder. How often was Izuku in pain and Toshinori did not see?

Izuku patted his shoulder again, this time in a way that suggested he really wanted a hug but couldn’t give him one because he was holding onto Gigantomachia and the logistics didn’t work out.

Oh, and there was the safehouse.

Gigantomachia let them down a short distance from the building (he claimed not to want to get to close, because he’d accidentally knocked down buildings in the past, which Toshinori could easily believe).

The building was in better repair than Toshinori had expected after his long absence. He fished the spare key from its hiding spot and opened the door.

The back entry was full of people wearing black robes and skull masks, all of whom were scrubbing at bloodstains on the floors and walls.

Izuku fixed him with a disappointed stare. “I thought you got rid of the cultists.”

Yes, he had thought so, too. He had, in fact, worked quite hard at getting rid of them.

“You!” shouted a cultist, pointing. “You’re with that filthy League of Villains!”

“You killed our brothers!”

“Mutant-lovers!”

“Run?” suggested Izuku.

“Run,” agreed Toshinori.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #long night in the valley #fic #fanfiction #my writing

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alitaimagines · 4 years

Text

“so tell me that you love me, yeah, and tell me that I take your breath away. maybe if you take one more then, I would know for sure. there's nothing left to say, tell me that you love me anyway.”

keigo takami / Hawks - MY HERO ACADEMIA

note: so the consensus was Hawks according to DMs! the dabi/bakugou imagine should be up tomorrow!

“Edgeshot, oh my God!” you exclaimed bursting out in laughter, “stop, I’m going to pee my pants!” you continued.

you and Edgeshot had just walked out of the heroes meeting and you plus a few others decided to catch lunch at a restaurant a few doors down. the only two missing were the top two heroes and honestly, you weren’t surprised.

Hawks and Endeavor ever being seen around other pro heroes for such a copious amount of time was odd. Hawks might’ve been a little more predictable but Endeavor was not interested in any of that.

during the time, you and Edgeshot more or less became friends. the very secretive ninja hero and yourself tended to sit together at meetings and lunches so it wasn’t really surprising if the two of you were seen together.

that really didn’t sit well with Hawks.

you had been seeing Hawks for a few months now. it wasn’t really official or anything but between the two of you, there had been very tip top secret meetings. both of you knew each others real names and even spent a few nights together.

being that Hawks was number two and Edgeshot was at number four, he knew about him very well.

however, during meetings or professional lunches, Hawks was always dragged in seven different directions and hardly got time to spend time with you. your time with Edgeshot didn’t go unnoticed by the winged hero.

he seen how close you and Edgeshot were and frankly, he hated it. he knew Edgeshot kept his personal life very private and you being the charming girl you are, he didn’t understand why it had to be YOU that was so close with him. why couldn’t it be Mirko or someone else?

“Edgeshot! ( your hero name )!” you heard paparazzi say, “can we get a picture?” they asked.

your eyes rolled before giving Edgeshot a sympathetic look and hesitantly agreeing. the two of you stood up as Edgeshot grabbed you by the waist and the two of you posed for the seemingly innocent photo.

once they took the photo and scurried away, you sighed, “I fucking hate paparazzi sometimes,” you complained making Miruko laugh, “doesn’t everyone? can’t even have lunch in peace!” she added on.

once you got done with patrol and made your way home, you turned the TV on and dug into your dinner. you had no idea what was playing but once you heard your hero name being brought up, you immediately looked to the television.

“Edgeshot and ( your hero name), getting close, aren’t they?” one of the gossip reporters said, “it isn’t the first time they’ve been seen out together and although this was a group hero lunch, the chemistry, it’s there!”

you growled knowing the paparazzi that took the photo must’ve sold the photo to the tabloids. you watched the photo appear on the screen and noticed how the female reporters squealed over it.

“well her and Mirko are some of the youngest on the top ten charts! it’s obvious they’d have men falling at their feet, especially other heroes.”

you sunk down in your seat before realizing that Mirko was Facetime calling you. you picked it up and seen her laughing at the screen, “are you watching the twelve o’clock news?” you nodded as she continued laughing hysterically, “holy shit, they think you and Edgeshot are together!”

you sighed, “I need alcohol to continue watching this,” you murmured as you walked into your kitchen, “but to the photographers credit, you and Edgeshot really look like a couple!” you immediately shushed her knowing that she was still at her the agency.

Mirko for a quick moment panned to the television and you saw that Hawks was watching it intensely, “it seems that Hawks is even interested! what do you think bird? wouldn’t they look cute together?” she shouted.

Hawks screamed at her to be quiet as she giggled, “clearly her doesn’t think that but seriously, this is funny as fuck! I just wanted to inform you! I’ll see you on Thursday!” she exclaimed before hanging up.

Hawks had messaged you earlier in the day that he was going to come up and visit you for the night but seeing that he was watching the news, he knew about the rumors now surrounding you and Edgeshot so you had no clue if he was or not now.

you put your plate into the sink before going to your room to take off the makeup you had on. your house remained silent for a few minutes before you heard rustling outside of the balcony of your house.

“hey,” you heard a gruff voice say behind you. you turned to see Hawks at the front of the door, “hey Keigo,” you whispered as you tried to wipe the mascara off your eyes.

he made his way in before slamming the door, “I heard the news today,” he muttered as he leaned back against your desk chair, “I think all of the city has. anyone can take it how they want,” you said as he hummed.

the room went quiet before he cleared his throat, “you and Edgeshot look friendly is all,” he inquired as you scoffed, “we’re just friends, you know how Kamihara is. he takes his personal life to the grave,” you responded as he hummed.

“full name basis, huh?” he responded as you finally put the makeup wipe down, “yeah, we are. we’re on first name basis, aren’t we?” you retorted as you walked towards him.

he sighed as he put his head on your shoulder, “but I’m different. I’ve seen more to you than Edgeshot ever has,” he ran his fingers down your arm as you agreed, “true but Edgeshot as far as I know, he thinks of me as just a friend.”

Keigo growled as he started nibbling on your ear, “than I guess that puts me at a higher position, doesn’t it?” he whispered as you hummed, “does it? we haven’t exactly gotten public and you’re making no effort to make it public. if Edgeshot does ask me out in the future, I truthfully can’t tell you I’d say no.”

Keigo looked at you in surprise, “what are you implying then?” he stated as you stood up from his lap, “I’m tired of hiding, that’s what I’m implying. I’m tired of hiding the relationship. I understand the repercussions but who gives a fuck? I don’t but you clearly you do. I’m beginning to think that us hiding around isn’t about the villains but more of the fact that you might lose your fangirls over it.”

his eyes widened at the accusations, “that’s the story you’re using to justify the situation with Edgeshot?” he asked as you nodded, “I’ve wanted to go public for a long time Keigo and if you’re willing to work with me and make it public than fine but if you’re wanting to continue this game of hiding, you can walk out of my house,” you lectured.

the two of you remained looking at each other before he stood up from the chair. he walked to the balcony and gave you one final look before flying away.

you sighed as you felt a single stray tear fall from your face. you knew this conversation had to come eventually but his decision hurt your heart. the fact that he was more willing to keep up his public appearance than to actually make the relationship public broke a piece of your heart but it was Keigo you were talking about.

he cared more about himself than anyone else.

you were off the following day and if you were being truthful, you were glad.

your mind remained on Keigo the entire night and you were honestly ready to tell him off once more but you decided against it and left your phone on the stand as you got up to make your coffee and get back to bed.

after you brushed your teeth and made your coffee, you went back to bed and turned the television on. you were behind on a few episodes of your favorite show and decided to kill them all today.

before you could even turn Hulu on, your tv had the news channel on and heard your hero name again. you sighed and waited to see what new rumor they were planning on having on you.

once they got to the gossip portion of the news, your name was the first thing that came up.

“all the rumors around number four hero Edgeshot and number six hero ( your name ) were false. this morning on the official Instagram of the number two hero, Hawks, he decided to make their relationship public.”

your eyes widened as you yanked your phone from the charger and logged onto his Instagram. true to their word, Hawks had made a public post announcing your relationship.

it was a picture of the two of you in your hero uniforms and giving each other a peck. you knew which day this was but you had no idea he even had this photo of the both of you.

“ignore the rumors, this one is mine.”

you read the caption for what felt like a million times before you seen that Mirko was calling you for the hundredth time. you finally picked up the phone to hear here screaming.

“YOU AND FUCKING BIRD BOY? SINCE WENT?”

you gave off a nervous giggle before explaining the entire situation to her. by the time you finished with the story, she was left in shock as you noticed your now publicized boyfriend standing on your balcony.

you told her a quick goodbye before walking over to the balcony doors and unlocking them. he gave you a nervous look as you sighed.

“seriously Keigo? all that shit last night for you to decided to make it public this morning?” you asked as he chuckled before bringing you into an embrace, “don’t worry, your manager made it public for you too.”

you gave him a look of confusion as you checked your own account. your manager had posted the same photo to your own Insta and he laughed at your reaction.

“God, sometimes I wonder why I love you,” you confessed as he kissed the top of your head, “because you do. now, I skipped a day of patrol for today so you owe me cuddles.”

you sighed as you brought him over to your bed and laid his head on your chest, “shut up and fall asleep. who knows the last time you’ve gotten a decent sleep,” you mentioned as he chuckled.

you placed a kiss on his head this time as you started to play one of the shows you were watching.

ALITA

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