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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Ch. 1

Shigaraki Birthday Week! MINORS DNI DO NOT PUT THIS ON TIKTOK

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, let me know if I’ve missed something

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: Tomura gets stuck taking an English class to graduate and is partnered with you, a bitchy try hard (his words not mine) for his final project. But over the course of the semester he finds that while he hates everyone, he might hate you just a little...less.

AO3 mirror

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming.

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more.

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?”

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair.

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie.

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late.

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest.

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled.

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in.

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class.

Of fucking course you did.

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall.

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of.

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that.

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule.

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you.

Fucking disgusting.

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top.

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica.

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist.

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D.

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working.

This was going to be a nightmare.

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again.

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging.

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not.

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy.

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for.

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence.

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell.

And god if he thought you were irritating.

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking Clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop.

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions.

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier.

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A.

That walking condescension on the other hand—

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask.

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it.

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.”

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression.

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence.

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees.

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with bated breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing.

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did.

“Really? Well they should.”

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head.

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.”

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie.

God just talking to you made his skin burn.

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see.

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed.

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option.

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else.

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.”

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up.

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever.

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch.

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long.

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either.

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something.

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat.

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.”

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out.

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support.

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day.

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge.

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.”

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.”

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks.

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him.

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity.

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff?

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him.

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension.

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware.

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers.

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone.

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either.

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours.

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand.

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students.

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text.

Unknown Number:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #bnha fanfiction #tomura shigaraki imagines #fem!reader #incel!shigaraki #college au #bee.writes

704 notes · View notes

afictionalwhore · 3 years

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Little Miss Perfect

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A/N: I have so many plans for this bad boy that’s been sitting in the back of my mind for a hot minute now after a conversation with @jadequeen88. Thank you bby for reading over this!

T/W: dubcon/noncon; religious references and religious guilt; cheating

4.5K words

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There wasn't much at all in your little town in the middle of Nowheresville: population just over 300. The nearest Walmart was at least a twenty minute drive over to the next town, but you had a Dollar General Market to do your weekly grocery shopping. There was a school that ran from pre-k all the way up to high school, where you graduated from with a senior class consisting of a grand total of sixteen. The Dairy Queen down the road from your high school did best in the region, thanks to bored, local high schoolers on Friday nights. Your town also boasted the birthplace of the state's governor years ago, but no one remembered him, having three other governors since his last term. Despite the dullness of everyday life, you were happy. You had grown up best friends and high school sweethearts with the most respected boy in town: Natsuo Todoroki.

Of course, your quaint little town also had a church, as any well-to-do Southern town would. The church was like any other Southern Baptist affair, pristine, white, and much too large for such a small town. A long hallway behind the sanctuary led to a few classrooms, a choir practice room, and a stairwell to the basement. In the basement were the kitchens, a few more classrooms, and a large empty room where church events were held that doubled as the town’s community center. This was where bingo nights for the elderly members of the community were held, and the occasional baby shower or wedding reception could be held there. Pastored by Enji Todoroki, or Brother Enji as the town lovingly referred to him, the church congregation contained essentially the entire population of your small town. Even the local alcoholic your town was very hush about would make his way to Christmas and Easter services.

Being Natsuo's sweetheart, volunteering at the church was naturally what kept your what would otherwise be boring life busy. There was always something to be done, be it a simple cleaning of the sanctuary or helping cook for the elderly's monthly bingo nights. Not only were you Natsuo's sweetheart, but you were the town's darling, working dutifully every Sunday by Natsuo's side with the church's children. You were a natural, studying early childhood education at a small, private Christian-based university just a few hours away where Natsuo had earned his pastoral ministries degree, aiming to take over the congregation when his father retired. The old ladies of the community constantly hounded you about when you and Natsuo would get married and give the church a baby to dote on.

"After I graduate," you would say with a smile, dusting your flour-covered hands off on the aging pink apron that had to be from the 1950s before setting a timer for the hawaiian roll sliders in the ancient oven in the church’s basement kitchen. “I want to work a little, give back to the community before becoming a full time mom.”

This was the only thing you dared fight Brother Enji on. Natsuo, two years your senior, had already been graduated for a year, and Enji had been adamant that you go ahead and marry after he had graduated, as eager as the old women that whispered to each other during bingo nights for you two to continue the Todoroki line.

But you would not falter, stating that while you had every intention to marry Natsuo and sign your life off as a Todoroki, the least Enji could allow you was your education. You had dreamed since childhood of teaching at the school where you and Natsuo attended elementary together. You loved children, giving your all to the church children you worked with multiple times a week, but you were not at all ready for your own. You were just barely twenty-one years old; Natsuo a young and hopeful twenty-three. The thought of having children now scared you and Natsuo both. It scared you more than saying “no” to Enji.

You may not have had the loftiest goals of your small graduating class, but you were sharp and knew that education was not something Enji would take lightly. Surely, Enji wanted an educated woman as his first, and perhaps only, daughter-in-law, seeing as Shouto was likely to move across the country for college and never come back, and Fuyumi had no intentions of marrying. Touya, Enji’s oldest son with piercings and tattoos as numerous as stars in the coal dusted skies and his hair dyed black to match, was another situation entirely.

Everyone, Touya Todoroki included, believed that he would have left by now. Touya had tried to leave, fleeing to a state university the moment he had graduated from your pitiful high school. Unsurprisingly to you and the rest of the congregation, Touya, with his undeclared major and runaway attitude, had been swept up in the party lifestyle of state school fraternities and quickly failed his way out of college. Brother Enji had been swift to bring him back home, ashamed and embarrassed at the congregation’s whisperings about what Touya had done to the Todoroki name. So here he was, Touya Todoroki, local rebel and stain on an otherwise perfect Christian family, begrudgingly coming to Easter service, listening to his father preach and watch his perfect brother, Natsuo, clean up the mess he had made of the family reputation.

You were there, naturally, front and center and practically glued to Natsuo’s side, in your pretty pink Easter dress. The pastel flowers decorating your dress seemed to float down the modestly lengthed skirt. Touya felt his blood boil, watching perfect little you with his perfect little brother listen intently to whatever biblical nonsense his father spouted off. He stretched, his suit feeling hot and tight, as though he were trying to discreetly scratch an awkward itch. You shifted in your seat, leaning slightly more into Natsuo, blissfully unaware of Touya’s hot gaze from the back row.

Touya knew the routine, after a brief sermon to the entire congregation, his father would send you and Natsuo off to take the children to children’s church and youth group. You and Natsuo rose from your seats in the pews after Enji's final blessing on the children, your pretty skirt twirling with you as you spun to face the children. Your smile was as bright as a porch light on a Southern summer night, and the children flocked to you like little moths. They clung to your skirt and pulled you towards the door while the older kids trailed behind with Natsuo. Natsuo stood straight, as though he were a shepherd and you were his most beloved lamb.

Touya made eye contact with his brother as you made your way down the aisle to the back of the sanctuary where he sat with Shoto. Natsuo looked at the older Todoroki with pure disgust and hatred, as though willing the gray ice of his eyes to freeze Touya to death on the spot. Touya broke the stare with his brother only to find that his bright aquamarine eyes met your own round ones just in front of him. Your brief surprise at his presence quickly melted into pity, a sad smile gracing your face, before you were swept out the door by the children.

The anger rose in Touya as you and Natsuo disappeared with the children out the back of the sanctuary. His blood boiled so hotly he felt he may burst into flames in the middle of Easter service. Before he could stop himself, Touya found himself rising from his seat. He needed a smoke, a drink, the floor to open up and swallow him down to hell like his father prayed it would. He just wanted out of the damned sanctuary. Shoto, who was feigning sleep beside Touya, cracked his eyes open to give Touya a quick glance, quirking an eyebrow in a silent question, “where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” Touya hissed. Touya knew Shoto could see straight through the outright lie, both of the youngest Todoroki's eyebrows now raised in further silent interrogation: "really?" Touya dipped his head below the back of the pew in front of them and mimed a cigarette. Shouto shrugged and closed his eyes again. Lucky for Touya, Shoto cared just as much about their father’s godly ramblings as Touya did, perhaps even less. Who would he snitch to that Touya had slipped out of Easter service for a smoke? If Shoto weren’t at least decently scared of their father, he may have even joined Touya.

Touya left the sanctuary and strolled down the hall towards the back entrance of the church, in no immediate rush to get back to his father’s sermon. He had almost made it to the back exit doors when he noticed a flash of pink fabric rustle down the stairwell to this left, accompanied by the graceful pitter-patter of your low heels against the hard stairs that led to the church basement.

Touya didn’t mean to follow you. He really did mean to go out for a smoke. But he couldn’t help but overhear what was unmistakably your sweet, soft voice comforting who Touya guessed was one of your and Natsuo’s youths, egging him forward to eavesdrop and hoping to catch something he could one day use against you.

You and the girl from youth, a high schooler Touya would have to guess, finally arrived at an abandoned classroom in the basement.

See. There's nothing to worry about,” Touya heard you say. “If you want, I can get rid of it for you. Just go back to Natsuo and the others before they get suspicious.”

“Thank you so so much,” the girl sniffled. "But what about you?"

“Easy,” you laughed. Touya could hear your perfect smile in the gentle laugh. “Just tell them I had to stop by the restroom if they ask about me.”

"I wish I were as perfect as you," the girl said. Touya thought he would vomit.

"Nobody's perfect," you laughed. Touya thought he'd get a headache with how hard he rolled his eyes. How much more cliche can you get?

The loud scraping of the chair against the tile floor signaling that you were leaving broke Touya from his thoughts. Lucky for him, the basement hallway was dark with plenty of shadows for him to jump into as the youth girl made her way back to the stairs to join the rest of the youth.

You had decided to stay behind for a few moments, examining something in your hands that the high schooler had given to you. When he was sure that the girl had gone back upstairs, Touya left his shadowy hiding place and slipped into the room, slamming the door behind him and clicking the lock.

You jumped up out of your seat at the sound of the door, turning quickly with a rustle of fabric and throwing your arms behind you to hide whatever it was that you were holding.

“Whatcha got there, doll?” He cocked his head to the side, as though his question were from an innocent puppy. The fire in his eyes and the smirking tugging at his face proved he was anything but.

“Oh! Nothing,” you stammered, stepping back into the table behind you as Touya stalked forward towards you.

“You sure about that?" he smirked.

It was as though the chairs parted themselves to make way for Touya.

"Drugs maybe? Ya know, if it’s weed you’re after, you can just come talk to me. I’ve got good connections still and can hook you up better than these high school wannabes. Maybe I could get ya something a little stronger even?”

You blushed at Touya’s insinuation. Your blush grew deeper, a perfect Georgia peach flush, when you realized the closeness between you two. It was the first time you got a good look at Touya. He was handsome, as all the Todoroki boys were, but there was a sharp edge to him. While Natsuo was handsome in the way that a freshly fallen snow is beautiful, Touya’s beauty resembled that of broken glass: dangerously sharp, potentially harmful, yet mesmerizingly beautiful.

"No, it's nothing like that," you said, lifting yourself up to sit on the table in a pitiful attempt to escape him. His fierce blue eyes staring you down made you uncomfortable at the least.

Touya didn't notice that he had reached you during his small speech until he was towering over your smaller frame, and you were scrambling to get away. You had to bend your neck back to look up at him. Touya felt a surge of power over you. This was the first time that Touya felt you were actually beneath him. Touya had gotten a taste of dominance over you, and it was something he wanted to savor and make last as long as he could.

Touya wasn’t obsessed with you in the sense that men like him typically obsess over pretty girls like you. Sure, Touya was a man with various unsatisfied needs, and he had thoughts of dreams of kissing you, of fucking you senseless. But his feelings for you went beyond just wanting to fuck you. Touya absolutely hated you and everything you represented. You were the exact opposite of him. You were actually wanted into the family by his father. You were loved by everyone you met. You were perfect, something that Touya could never begin to hope of being.

What Touya felt for you was something he’d never felt for anyone. Touya hated his family just as much if not more than they hated him. He hated your whole godforsaken town as much as they hated him. But you were different. The rage Touya felt towards you paled what he felt for his family or your hometown. He was used to being looked at like he was worthless, less than, a stain on the otherwise spotless community, and he was content with this. But you, with you perfect ways and perfect heart, never looked at him with that disgust, instead your eyes were filled with pity everytime they fell on him. Touya wanted you hurt just as much as he was hurting. He wanted to ruin you and your perfect world, and watch the pity in your eyes turn into a hate that rivaled his own.

Touya grabbed at your wrist behind you, causing what was in your hands to clatter onto the table and bounce on the floor below you. Keeping you firm in his grasp, Touya looked down to see a pregnancy test on the floor: positive.

“Is that yours?” Touya inquired, his mouth pulled into a sneer that caused your stomach to twist with disgust.

“No,” you flatly replied.

“Okay,” Touya mused, mocking. “So if it’s not yours, then it’s the girl that just left’s?”

“Why does it matter to you, Touya? Who are you to judge her?”

“I don’t care what the young slut does in her free time. Or should I say, who she does,” Touya laughed more at the discontentment in your face than at his crude joke. “But I know a lot of people who would care. Number one being my dad.”

“Don’t, Touya. Please don’t say anything.”

“Would you let that poor girl shoulder the blame herself?” Touya’s brilliant blue eyes were burning into yours, causing you to freeze like a deer in headlights. “Or would you help take up her cross? Isn’t that what a good little Christian girl is supposed to do? I guess you’re not really a good Christian girl though, what with all the lying and secrets. Does my brother even know about this?”

“No,” you dropped your head to break Touya’s stare. “Nobody but me and you know.”

“What are you going to do to keep it that way?”

“Touya, what do you want from me?” Your voice trembled at the thought of how Touya could wreck your reputation with just the slightest slip of his tongue. “There’s nothing I have that you could want.”

“You have so much I want and you don’t even fucking know it,” Touya growled.

A feeling of dread rooted in you at the drop of Touya’s voice. You looked back up at Touya with wide doe eyes, blushing under his intense blue gaze. As Touya gripped your smaller wrist in his large hands he realized the one thing he wanted to see in your eyes more than hate—fear. Touya could feel himself growing hard at your fearful expression.

Touya pushed you down onto the table so your legs dangled awkwardly off the edge and grabbed the fabric of your skirt and lifted up, exposing your white lace panties.

“What are you doing? Touya!” you exclaimed.

“Oh lace? What a sweet surprise; though I think black would suit you more,” Touya said, ignoring you.

“What’re you doing? Touya! Stop!”.

“You don’t want me saying anything do you? You said there’s nothing you had that I wanted. Well that’s a lie.” Touya smirked at you while pulling down your panties. “I want to wreck this sweet, perfect pussy. Now just stay still. You’ll feel so good.”

Touya hadn’t meant to take it this far. He had only meant to scare you a bit. But seeing your fearful eyes wet with tears threatening to spill over and ruin your perfect makeup was too much for him to continue holding back. He realized in that moment that his hate for you was just a sad attempt at burying the admiration he held for you at standing up to his father about marrying Natsuo so soon. He wanted to be the one to take you. You were going to be his, not Natsuo’s, but this would be the only chance he would get at having you. Touya wasn’t going to pass up that opportunity.

Touya’s long tongue flicked out against your newly exposed cunt, licking up and down from your tight hole to your sensitive clit, getting you sufficiently wet from your own growing and betraying arousal and his spit. The ball of his piercing rolled against your clit. You jumped with a small yelp and pushed your hips against him to get away, which he mistook as a sign of pleasure.

"Don't hold back, doll. I know you feel good." Touya said. You could feel his smile against your heated flesh.

You didn’t feel good, not at first. His tongue felt slimy and foreign. You weren’t used to being spread open, and your legs felt like they were going to cramp at the angle Touya had you pinned. You felt dirty, especially as you began to relax and enjoy the sensation of Touya’s tongue against you.

As the wet noises from Touya drinking in all you had to offer increased in volume, you found your hips bucking up not in an attempt to push him away but to draw him in more. Touya slipped a finger into you, and you gasped, having never been filled before. You felt like a harlot, but the pleasure Touya was giving you overtook the guilt.

“Touya, please,” you begged, praying for Touya to finish soon, that he would take your pleas as a begging for him to stop. You mostly prayed for forgiveness.

“You close, baby?” Touya asked. You nodded, despite having no idea what you were close to.

Touya inserted another finger, curling them against your wet, gummy walls as his mouth enclosed around your throbbing bud. The sound of your panting and the wet slopping noises coming from between your legs felt too loud. It was all you could hear along with the pounding of your heart.

You felt a twisting in your gut as Touya’s finger quickened their pace. It was like a knot forming deep within you that was threatening to break, stretched too taunt at your tensing muscles. Touya lavished you in sweet praises as he continued eating your dripping pussy, humming against your clit how good you taste.

That was all it took for the knot to break. Touya finally released his grip on your thighs to allow your legs to close tight around his head. Your inner muscles sporadically twitched around Touya’s fingers, attempting to milk him. Your vision grew hazy, and you couldn’t hear anything outside the distant voice of Touya egging you on as you rode out your very first orgasm on his face.

When you had finally come down from your high, you noticed Touya supporting your legs as they trembled around his head.

“Did you feel good?” Touya asked, sickening smirk still plastered on his face.

You only had the energy to nod.

“I guess you aren’t so perfect after all. I mean look at ya, doll, cumming all over your boyfriend’s brother’s face.” Touya chuckled as you turned away, face burning in shame.

How could you face Natsuo? As you turned away from Touya a poster of the Ten Commandments mocked you. You had no hope after breaking the seventh, “Thou shall not commit adultery”. You began to cry at the thought of betraying Natsuo. Even if it wasn’t originally by choice, you were still, in your mind, an adulteress. Never being one to keep your own secrets, you feared that you were also breaking the ninth commandment, “thou shall not bear false witness”, through lie by omission.

“So is she keeping it or what?” Touya’s unexpected question brought you out of your self loathing.

“What?” you replied, not understanding what Touya was referring to, brain still foggy from your first orgasm.

“That girl. She keeping the baby? Or is she ya know?” “I don’t know,” you slowly said.

“Would you keep it?” Touya pressed.

“Yes, of course,” you replied in your perfect godly manner, despite just having your boyfriend’s brother’s face buried in your cunt while Easter service continued in the sanctuary above.

“Even if it were mine?” Touya asked, taking you off guard.

“I don’t know what you—“

Before you had time to question him further, Touya had pressed the tip of his cock into you.

“No no. Touya please don’t. Please.” You cried, trying to piece together when he found the time to undo his pants.

You had already given away so much of your body away to Touya and felt yourself growing sick at the thought of Touya taking away what you and Natsuo fought to save for marriage.

“Now I know it’s big, much bigger than my fingers, but you’ll get used to it.” Touya grunted as he pushed himself to the hilt, hips flush against yours. You gasped at how full you felt, and your muscles squeezed around his cock at the larger intrusion, sending shivers down his spine.

“Hey, hey. Just relax,” Touya said. “Didn’t I just make you feel good?”

You cried, fat tears rolling down your cheeks, as Touya fucked into you, his thick cock hitting every nerve. You clutched at Touya’s arms, nails digging into his tattooed skin as you tried to find purchase. The stretch to accommodate Touya burned and the slap of his skin against yours stung. With each heavy thrust, the head of Touya’s cock knocked on your cervix, as though he were the beloved asking to cum in.

Eventually the pain subsided into pleasure and your sobs quieted into sniffles before turning into soft moans. Your tears had dried, leaving your makeup remarkably intact.

Touya pressed a hand against your mouth in an attempt to muffle the noises spilling out of you.

"I bet you thought your first time would be perfect, didn't you?" Touya punctuated the thought with a particularly hard thrust that had your body jerking like a ragdoll. “Bet you thought your first time would be with Natsuo. Slow, soft, perfect love making, right?” Another rough thrust that would have thrown you off the small table had it not been for Touya’s other hand holding a fast grip on your hips to keep you pinned

You answered with a sniffle and moan, and turned your head away from him to hide your tears.

“Well, princess, we don’t have the time for that shit,” Touya laughed, noticing the fat tears threatening to roll down your flushed cheeks and effectively ruin your makeup.

"I may not be perfect, doll, but I'm still pretty good, right?"

You turned your head back to Touya, blushing furiously at the hungry look in his turbulent eyes and hating yourself for how your body had reacted to his touch. The knot in your stomach was forming again, making you desperate for release. Touya laughed as you involuntarily pulsed around him, your body’s traitorous attempt at pulling him in deeper.

"Just hang on, doll. It'll be over soon." Touya leaned down to trail hungry kisses along your neck and jaw, nipping here and there at the modest amount of exposed flesh on the top half of your body.

You whimpered at how cool Touya’s wet kisses felt against your heated skin. With no real strength in your body, you weakly wrapped your arms around the back of Touya’s neck, desperate for something to hold on to as you and Touya quickly approached your ends.

As his thrusts lost their rhythm and became more desperate, Touya’s hand left your mouth to join its twin at your hips. Touya lifted your hips slightly, giving himself deeper access into you. The new angle had your head spinning and you cried as you felt the knot once again threatening to break.

“Just like that, doll,” Touya chanted as he rolled his hips into yours, pelvic bone hitting against your clit with each roll of his hips. Your warm, wet walls squeezing around him in waves like an earthquake had him toppling over the edge, spilling hot white into you, causing you, in turn, to follow him off that ledge.

Touya laid his heavy body over you, propping himself on his forearms so as not to crush you. You took a moment to regain your breath before reality came crashing down on you.

Touya assaulted you, and you enjoyed it. Touya took away your first time, and you let him. You didn’t fight him back hard enough. You didn’t want to fight him back. You fucked your boyfriend’s brother and loved it.

You started crying, kicking and beating at Touya to push him off of you.

“Get away from me!” you cried. You sat up painfully straight and clutched at the fabric of your dress at your chest.

Touya chuckled seeing you act like a feral kitten. He tucked himself back in and fixed his pants, acting like nothing had happened.

“You better hurry up before Natsuo asks where you were. You’re smart I’m sure you’ll come up with some lie, you perfect little sinner.” Touya winked and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head before exiting the room to join Shoto back in the sanctuary where their father was sure to be finishing up his sermon, leaving you to sit in confusion at what had just transpired between the two of you.

You wept.

⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷

#touya x reader #tw dubcon #tw noncon #implied natsuo x reader #mha touya

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

Text

Chapter 9 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Sasuke wondered for the umpteenth time since three in the morning why he agreed to go with the baseball team for their summer camp and wondered more why the student council had to do its orientation and team building event at the same time. He supposed it was to cut down on expenses, but both trips could have gone on without his presence.

Well, it turned out his shoulders were needed as pseudo pillows for the sleepyheads duo. On one side, he can feel the wetness of Naruto’s drool dripping every minute onto his linen shirt, and on the other, Sakura’s vanilla shampoo was arresting his senses. Five hours after a rough roadtrip, the two awake beside a very grumpy Uchiha.

“I demand a barbecue treat from both of you,” he huffed as they disembarked in front of the groups’ joint headquarters.

His mood soured when Kakashi emerged from the next bus, serving as one of the stand-in guardians for the activities, followed by Hyuuga Hinata. She gave Sasuke a stern nod when their eyes met, and he briefly recounted their interaction while waiting for the rest of the participants.

“Good morning, Ms. Hyuuga,” Kakashi greeted. He waved for her to come closer, and he introduced her to the students. “If you’re not aware, the Sports Council has rolled out funding to under-resourced teams across the state to be particularly used for summer trainings. We’re lucky we’re one of those teams. Joining us as an observer is Mr. Hiashi’s daughter herself, Ms. Hinata, who also happens to study in the same district.”

She generously bowed to everyone with a tight-lipped smile. Later, she assumed a position beside Sasuke.

“If it makes you feel better, I did not orchestrate this,” Hinata said. “And if there’s anything you should now, both sides of that relationship have been hurt, with reasons far from what you’re thinking.” She stopped for a whole minute and breathed in, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “So please, leave me alone.”

Yeah, he was a bit of a jerk to her, Sasuke knew that. But he also knew that Hinata had already developed an affection for the blonde idiot, regardless of her denial. As much as he wouldn’t want to complicate things, he thought it best for now to allow the situation to play out. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t here to entangle himself in someone else’s business.

They settled in the mess hall cum dining area for a quick breakfast and breakdown of house rules. He still needed to get used to the fact that this was Sakura’s last time to be a head organizer for a school activity. She will pass on her reins to the incumbent secretary by the start of the next term. Both him and Naruto knew the extent of her sadness in letting this position go, and even more so the need to look out for her the instance she does her confession.

Yet she hasn’t. So they became unwilling witnesses to this awkward tiptoeing with awareness literally skewed to only one side of the party, and Kakashi showering in ignorance bliss.

They went about their room assignments, and Sasuke, with all his luck in the universe, was stuck with Kakashi and Naruto.

“I won’t ask if it’s possible to trade rooms, but would you care to explain why you don’t have a solo room of your own?” he annoyingly asked the silver-haired man who was nose deep at the moment in a coverless book.

“I’m your guardian, Uchiha,” Kakashi replied while yawning. “I’m gonna go sleep so why don’t you frolick in the ocean with your friends while it’s still your free time?”

Unwilling to spend his time with a man who annoyed him so much for no reason at all, Sasuke trudged off his designated room and followed the many footsteps on the sand. The untrimmed hedges eventually give way to the expanse of the gray ocean, its waves roaring from afar, building up like shifting towers, cresting, and breaking into foam by the time they reach the shore.

Naruto was already neck deep in the waters with the rest of his team, the new captain certainly setting a good camaraderie example. Sakura caught his entrance and waved him over despite the new council members intensely blushing at the sight of him.

“Sasuke!” He heard her call.

But every step he took on the soft sand was like a laboring walk on a cesspool of blood, his parents’ blood.

“The turtle is faster than you, you slowpoke!” Sakura continued her incessant teasing.

Trust me, I’m trying to get to you, he thought. Screams broke out just then.

And he felt like he was being whirled away into the barrel of his repressed memories. He started seeing everything in slow motion.

Naruto shouting cramp cramp cramp, an idiot move that got seawater into his nose, and ultimately made him lose his balance. Quick on her feet, Sakura swam into his vicinity with sure, measured strokes of an experienced swimmer. He heard her scream calm down you blonde idiot! and his teammates were able to usher him out of her hold and onto dry land.

But she didn’t manage to follow safely. She was swimming, but her direction kept on going farther away from the shore. She was caught in a riptide. The screams changed from Naruto’s name to her, the intensity and volume of voices getting stronger with every second.

“Sakura!”

“Miss Pres! Someone! Help!”

“Help please!”

Save her, a voice said in his head. “I can’t.”

Her pink hair looked like a blob riding untethered on the arms of the waves. Yet he was rooted to his spot, his memory spilling over like blank ink. Suddenly he can smell the gasoline in the air and the waves lose their sound, replaced by the gasps and shaky breaths of his parents, and the ticking time bomb of an explosion.

He started to hyperventilate as his sight closed in on him. “Sakura, I’m sorry.”

Fast and light footfalls passed by his side, breaking him out of his reverie, and Sasuke’s eyes opened to a coverless book on the sand, its pages fluttering in the wind.

A silver-haired man dove into the surface with no hesitation, briefly disappearing, and emerging again in a few seconds with an unconscious Sakura safe in his arms. Only then did Sasuke run in haste.

“Give us space!” Kakashi yelled with a sliver of anger and panic in his normally laidback voice.

Sasuke would have to content himself seeing the next events play out in between warm bodies, his heart drowning the waves when he realized she wasn’t breathing and Kakashi had to start chest compressions.

Seconds worth of chances and he stood there waiting again.

She still wasn’t responding.

“Come on, Sakura, breathe,” Kakashi pleaded through gritted teeth. When he counted down to thirty, he leaned down and gave her two rescue breaths.

Still no response.

“Dammit Sakura. Don’t die now.”

Another set of thirty compressions. By the fifteenth try, some council members have broken down and started crying.

“Fuck.” Kakashi did another pair of rescue breaths. Then she vomited water.

“Clear the way!”

A group of paramedics came thanks to Hinata’s calm thinking and took the disoriented pinkette from Kakashi’s hold. Sasuke’s eyes trailed after them, her long pink locks swaying in the wind, and landing on Hinata’s fixated gaze on him, like she knew something he didn’t. Or since then has denied.

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

Sakura refused Kakashi’s instruction to go home. It was a close call, but she needed to see through a good transition in the student council, and a productive summer training camp for the baseball team.

“I’ll inform your parents then,” Kakashi said with a steely anger in his voice she was unfamiliar with. At whom it was directed she’ll never know.

“Ah, no need, I already called them,” she lied through gritted teeth. He responded with a brow raise but let it go for now.

“Get some rest, Ms. Pres.”

She did just that, holed up in a room for two days with minimal interaction save for her roommate Hinata who basically sidestepped around her in silence.

“How’s everyone?” Sakura asked her on the third day when she was about to scamper off to her observation duty.

“Your boys wanted to see you,” Hinata said. Sakura wondered if there was a tinge of jealousy in that but she saw the Hyuuga daughter as someone who already has all the good things in life. “But I refused entry since Naruto can be quite noisy and Sasuke is easily riled up nowadays.” Including sensitivity for others.

Hinata continued after giving her a plate of peaches and cranberry juice. “Your student council is still devastated, but they changed up their agenda to include a quick first aid training from a virtual trainer. Baseball team is doing quite well, far better than what I first expected….notwithstanding Haru’s absence.”

She noticed the visible change in Hinata’s expression after she uttered his name. “And how are you?”

The beautiful raven-haired looked at her with eyes brimming in tears. Poor girl never had someone to unload her broken heart to.

“I miss him Sakura.”

Sakura bites down on a slice of peach and taps her finger on one of Hinata’s clutched fist. “Do you still talk?”

Hinata shook her head, her fists clutching then unclasping each other in between pauses. “He was the one who ended the whole thing. Called me up for a date and we went to my favorite café, ordered me my favorite drink, and broke the news that he wanted to break up. He wasn’t angry when he said it, he was weary of everything, and I was hurt more by that fact. After I came home, I learned that he blocked me in all his social media accounts.” She took one slice of peach and stuffed it in her mouth, regardless of the tears that streaked her unmarred face. “I wanted to introduce him to Father, you know. Just until after I graduated so I could at least move away first. If he felt so suffocated by my family, how much more it was for me?”

Sakura puckered her lips with a tint of cranberry juice. “I think you’re both cowards.”

Hinata, who probably expected an empathetic response from Sakura, moved her hand away from Sakura and covered her mouth in surprise.

“It’s true,” the pinkette reasoned out. “Haru is a jerk for leaving all the work to you. He knows of your family so he should have stood up for you if he loved you. But you’re at fault too, Hina, because you know you could have introduced him earlier and faced your father’s wrath together. This gives me Romeo and Juliet vibes.”

“They both die in that story, Sakura.”

“Then West Side Story?” Sakura retrieved Hinata’s hand and put her hand over it. “I’m just saying I hope you find someone willing to take on that risk for you but also allowing you to have your agency to choose and act.”

Hinata doesn’t back away from Sakura’s touch. “You’ve always known what to say since we were in junior high.”

“Well of course! It’s because you and Haru are my friends!” She elbowed Hinata jokingly. “So Naruto?”

Blush bloomed on Hinata’s cheeks with a color far too intense to cover up. “Naruto? What about him?”

“It’s because of his strong people charm, isn’t it?” Sakura smiled, no longer looking at Hinata. “And if Haru had that personality, maybe it wouldn’t be difficult for your father to accept him.”

She was greeted with silence which told her that this was the truth, this was the reason why Hinata craved for his sunshine energy, and the reason why she had always wanted to orbit around him.

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

Despite the life-threatening incident that marked the beginning of their excursion, the remaining days have fallen into some sort of normalcy and mundanity. Sasuke, more than he would like to admit, found himself spending more time with the mathematics teacher who was on his second coverless book.

“What’s your bet?” Kakashi asked out of the blue. Prior to this, they shared the silence punctuated with cicadas and the occasional crackling of wood in the campfire.

“Erotica,” Sasuke replied nonchalantly, seated across him on a foldable steel chair.

The teacher almost choked on his water. “What if I tell you it’s a classic lit?”

“A classic erotica literature,” Sasuke insisted. “Because if it is as safe as you said it, you’d leave the cover on because bookworms are snobbish like that.”

Kakashi chuckled. “What a brat. It’s a good thing I’m not a snitch for the school board.”

“You’re just implying they don’t pay you enough.”

“You’re really a brat.”

Again, the silence engulfed them, not much different from the night that lulled everyone to sleep. Sasuke kept his hands inside the pockets of his thin jacket, moving away from Kakashi to return to their room. He debated about this with himself for the last two days, wondering if it would be worth it. “You seem like a good guy despite your reading preferences.”

“Excuse me?” Kakashi’s voice was laced with offence.

“Thanks for saving Sakura.” He realized he was too young, too unreliable, like the kid he was once before. It was just he never grew up.

And the week was done, and time was in constant shift. The reshuffling in classes left him alone, but never that much, not when two extroverts came checking on him at every break. The spot behind the library was still their hidden spot, the dragonboat team was still their background music, and the countless scenes on the side of the lake were still their guilty pleasures of what-ifs.

Maybe every last year of every phase in life ended up going so fast. Like how the baseball team sped through the preliminaries to the nationals in one relentless drive. And yet again, he found himself going back to the same café with his favorite cashier who colored her hair pink.

“You like my new hair?” Sakura teased. “Okay hit me, I’m on a 15-minute break.”

“Stop eating my tomato basil salad first.” Sasuke flicked off her encroaching fingers on his bowl. “The team needs funds. In the board’s defense, they prepared for jersey uniforms, travel assistance, and board and lodging.”

“Up until the semis,” Sakura clarified.

“Unfortunately. What’s the council gonna do?”

“I’m not the president anymore, remember?”

Sasuke sipped his cold americano, looking pointedly at Sakura, who deflected his gaze. He tapped the surface of the table, knowing all too well that she will spill something any second now.

“The council is gonna do a fundraising event,” she finally relented.

“Please don’t tell me it’s another pass-the-hat.”

She shook her head, but if she was at all excited, she didn’t show it. “They’re gonna invite student musicians and do a showcase in the mall park.” She shrugged. “Not my idea and not my place to meddle.”

“You know it’ll be a failure, right?” Sasuke asked. “The crowd and the weekend traffic won’t be worth the effort.”

She sighed in agreement. “Well, Kakashi-sensei greenlighted it. They must have a trump card.”

Sasuke was right for the most part. No one paid them attention, not the crying kids, not the parents rushing for the flash market sales, not the aunties catching up with the newest town gossip. The music club was already halfway down to the set, and Sakura was keeping her head low and hidden in her beret in secondhand embarrassment.

“Please tell me it gets better,” Sasuke almost pleaded

She eyed him from head to toe with a smirk. “We could auction you if you want. Girlies at nine o’clock want your number.”

He rolled his onyx orbs but flushed at her insinuation that he was worth looking at today. It wasn’t his expertise to dress up nor did it come to him to actually buy new clothes in the last three years. He just put on an oversized graphic t-shirt over a pair of jeans and called it a day, and Sakura stood there beside him in her 90s fashion silk blouse tucked into black pants with a leather belt, very much unaware of how she stole attention.

“Let’s leave?” he suggested.

Sasuke lost sight of the crowd when she looped her arm in his as they walked away to the first notes of Flightless Bird, American Mouth. It was sudden, probably on impulse, and not much to Sakura’s thoughts, and maybe those were the reasons why he didn’t pull away from the electricity of her touch.

And maybe he should have walked quicker so she wouldn’t have looked back and seen Kakashi on the piano chair, stroking the keys like that of a lover, and his voice crooning everyone to join his atmosphere.

So while she stood there beside him, all dolled up and beautiful from head to toe, with her arm linked with his in the middle of a gathering crowd, she wasn’t entirely his, her heart not swaying in time with his pulse, but beating instead to the pluck of his chords.

Ah so I really was in love with her. A realization too late and another missed chance to offer her his saving grace.

Two songs later and a beaming Kakashi taking pictures with the audience, Sakura finally unlinked her arm from Sasuke’s, and they walked out of the mall under the threat of impending downpour. With hurried steps and foregone conversations, they managed to reach the shelter of a small shed along the bridge connecting the mall to the train station just before the rain ensued.

“Ah I forgot to bring an umbrella. Funny since it was scorching hot earlier.” She put out her fingers outside the cover of the shed, making contact with the drops. “Like it was sudden and inevitable.”

Sasuke kept mum about the umbrella inside his crossbody bag, wanting instead to drown in the rain with her.

“I wish it was that sudden and inevitable too – falling out of love,” she said as she took her wet hand inside for cover. “Because I’m running out of excuses to not fall further more.”

“You haven’t confessed yet,” Sasuke reminded her. “And we all know how that ends in this setup. You can never be together Sakura.”

“I know.” He heard her choke back a sob.

“I wish I could, Sasuke. But my eyes see him and then my mind plays back a dozen frames of him every second. I really wish I could do just that – fall out of love.”

She gave in to her emotions and cried with abandoned resentment and yet he saw her with rose tinted lenses – still beautiful in the woes of a first love heartbreak. His body started to move on its own, his arms hovering around her, an unspoken question of permission to touch her safe space, and she leaned into his embrace, an equally unspoken consent to envelop her in comfort.

They must have been lovers in the eyes of those under the passing umbrellas. His hug tightened at best, absorbing every convulsion in her small frame like it was his sole function.

“Would you like to use me, Sakura?” he whispered like a prayer he uttered under his breath for the rain to continue and give him a little more seconds, a bit more minutes, an illusion of stranded time with her in his arms.

Pools of emerald looked back at him stricken with fear. “It’s not fair. To you. To me.”

His ember irises held steady. “I don’t mind.”

“I do mind.” She cupped his face, soft yet calloused palms that tether him to this reality. “I do mind so I will not let my broken heart steal your chance at first love.”

But the rain has stopped as sudden as it started and she was out of his hold, running for her dear life out of the cover of the shed, through the bridge and into a train line he couldn’t follow.

But you’re my first love.

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 10

#SCPS #student council president sakura #sasusaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #narusaku #uzumaki naruto #kakasaku #hatake kakashi #hyuuga hinata #anime fanfic #fanfic

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laurenairay · 3 years

Text

Thank you @dutch-tv-fan 😊 I hope you like this one! Also tagging @itsbadgerbadgermushroom because I’m only borrowing her husband for a brief time, I promise 😉

“Is that a tattoo?”

Hindsight is a funny thing.

Not that anything could’ve fully prepared you for what happened last night, but looking back maybe might’ve given you a hint.

Maybe.

Let’s start from the beginning.

You’d been friends with some of the Rangers spouses and partners for a while now, having met a few of them through a yoga class, and the casual lunches and wine nights had snowballed into going to their casual team get-togethers and parties. While they had their handsome husbands and glamorous lifestyles, you were perpetually single, no matter how many dates you went on.

Not that you were bitter about it, not at all. One day your prince would come (that’s how it worked, right?) and to be honest your life was pretty damn great as it was - dating the guy of your dreams could only be a bonus, right?

Unfortunately you’d already met the guy of your dreams. Chris Kreider.

From the very first moment you’d met Chris, you’d been weak at the knees. Not only was he so incredibly handsome, but every time you joined your friends at an event or party, he always made the effort to talk to you. And not only meaningless conversation fillers - he genuinely discussed things like your favourite books, politics, climate change, your hopes & dreams, to name but a few. And he always had something insightful to say back, making you more and more helpless each time.

How could you not be? Nobody was perfect, but damn if he wasn’t close.

Today you were at Henke’s house, just a pre-summer team party as the weather was so nice (and he had an amazing backyard). You’d only been there about an hour, still on your second glass of red wine, and everything was so chilled and fun...

...until one of rookies tripped over his own feet and knocked into you, spilling your red wine all down your white shirt. Oh god.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” the rookie gasped.

You just shook your head, forcing a smile on your face. He didn’t do it on purpose, you had to remind yourself. It was just a dumb mistake. Ugh! Therese Lundqvist immediately appeared next to you, shooing the rookie away, and took a look at your ruined shirt with a sigh.

“I have a laundry trick I can fix this with but we’ll need to soak it quickly,” she said kindly, “come on, I’ll lend you a shirt,”

Oh thank god. “You’re a saint,” you groaned, following her up the stairs.

She just laughed, leading you into her bedroom. “No woman leaves another woman with a red wine stain,” she grinned, opening her wardrobe doors.

You perched on a nearby armchair while she rummaged around, smiling to yourself. Seriously, what a saint.

“Ooh this will look cute on you!” she said happily, emerging from her wardrobe.

She handed you a pale blue top, light flowy sleeves...and a cropped torso. Oh god. A crop top. At this party?!

“I don’t know, Therese, I haven’t worn a crop top in public for ages. Can I pull it off?” you frowned.

“Are you kidding me? You’re going to look amazing in this! Seriously, with your figure? You need to show off your body more,” she insisted, hands on hips, staring you down.

“Okay, okay, I’ll wear the top,” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender. How did she manage to make your crack so easily? Magic powers, seriously.

“Good,” she grinned, “give me your shirt to put in soak now, and I’ll give it back you when it’s dry,”

You nodded at her, whipping your shirt over your head, leaving you in your plain bra. Therese squeezed your hand in support as you handed her your shirt, smiling at her until she left the room. It was only then that you allowed yourself to breathe shakily, staring at the shirt until you shook your head. It was just a crop top, you could do this. You worked hard on your body - sure it wasn’t perfect but you were usually so confident in how you looked, so why should today be any different? Nodding to yourself in the mirror, you pulled the crop top over your head, smiling at the flowy sleeves in the mirror. Yeah, you could do this, that wasn’t so bad.

With your head held high, you left Therese’s bedroom, a small smile on your face. Yeah, you could do this. You paused as you got to the bottom of the stairs, running a hand over your exposed waist. Here goes nothing.

“Oh hey, nice top,”

You looked up to spot Chris walking down the hall towards you with a teasing smile, and you couldn’t help but blush lightly. You’d never worn something so revealing around him before, so you were a little nervous.

But as he got closer to you, he seemed to freeze, his face making a strange expression.

“Is that a tattoo?” Chris asked, his voice a little strangled.

Your cheeks immediately flared fully into a blush, and you followed his line of sight to your ribs, where you did in fact have a small butterfly tattoo peaking out. Whoops. It had been just a silly moment of bravery with your college friends before you graduated, all of you getting the matching tattoos to symbolise your friendship (and that friendship was still going strong today so hah!) but you rarely showed anyone because it was so high on your ribcage.

Until today, when you had to change into a crop top. Damn it.

“Um yes?” you said hesitantly, wincing to brace for impact at the incoming judgement.

But no judgement came - just a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. What? Chris took a step towards you almost as if on auto-pilot, eyes a little wild, until he seemed to snap himself out of it.

“Sorry, I, uh...”

He trailed off, cheeks a little flushed, confusing you.

“Are you okay?” you frowned.

“Other than you driving me crazy, yeah?” he laughed dryly.

What the hell? “Driving you crazy? I haven’t done anything!” you insisted, pouting slightly.

“Oh god, not the pout,” he groaned, almost to himself.

“Okay seriously, what the hell are you-“

Your words dried up in your mouth as Chris stepped impossibly closer, pinning you to the wall, your heart beating so fast in your chest. “Tell me to stop,”

What?

Before you could say another word, Chris ducked his head and pressed his lips to yours in a firm kiss, making your breath catch in your throat in a gasp. He kept kissing you, over and over and over again, until you melted into his embrace, hands clutching at his shirt. He was kissing you. Chris Kreider was kissing you. This was everything you’d dreamed of but never thought you could have, and here it was happening?

Then Chris pulled away with a whimper, but kept his forehead pressed to yours for a moment, giving you the time for your head to stop spinning before he stood up properly.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” he murmured, thumb stroking over your cheekbone where his hand cupped your face.

He smiled as your cheeks flared in a fierce blush. How could you not blush, when he was telling you what you had yearned to hear?

“Then why now?” you asked softly.

Chris smiled a little wistfully. “You’ve always been a mystery to me. You arrive out of nowhere, already seamlessly blending in at team events, and you came across as so sweet and friendly right from the first time we met you. And god you’re so beautiful, I was dazzled straight away. But then as I’ve gotten to know you a little more each time, you’ve gotten me wrapped up more and more but still without knowing enough. Like, seriously, the guys tease me all the time for being besotted with you even though truly there’s still so much more to know. And then this tattoo...it’s such an intimate thing to see and to learn about you, and I just cracked. I’m sorry,”

Your jaw dropped as you processed his words, his incredible heartfelt words. You’d caught his eye since the very first meeting? He’d been trying to get to know you at each event? He thought you were beautiful? He was...sorry? No!

“Don’t apologise,” was all you managed to say.

The smile that spread across his lips made your heart skip a beat. Now it was your turn. “I thought you were so handsome the very first time we met, and it’s always such a fight not to say something stupid or embarrass myself around you because you make feel so giddy any time you pay me attention. The other ladies always tease me too, so I guess we’ve both been dumb?”

“You like me too?” Chris said, looking a little stunned although his smile was still beaming.

“Yeah, Chris, how could I not?” you admitted, smiling helplessly.

No point in not telling him the truth now, is there?

Chris just laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before looking down at you again. “So does this mean I can kiss you again?”

“Only if you take me on a date tomorrow,” you shrugged, smiling innocently.

“Hell yes,” he murmured.

You barely had time to take a shaky breath before Chris kissed you again, and this time you slid your hands up his chest and around his neck. Chris groaned softly, pressing you into the wall as the kiss got more intense, months of built up tension pouring through his embrace, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your head spin. This was everything, absolutely everything you had wanted for so long, and he...

“HELL YES, HE FINALLY MADE A MOVE! HENKE, YOU OWE ME 100!”

Chris broke the kiss with a groan, and you just buried your face in his chest to hide your blush. Oh god.

“Damn it Mika!” Chris hissed, glaring over his shoulder.

You couldn’t help but start laughing, hand coming up to cover your mouth, but when Chris started laughing too, you let yourself go, clinging on him to keep yourself upright.

“Want to get out of here so we don’t have an audience?” Chris asked, eyes still full of laughter.

Oh hell yes. “What did you have in mind?” you grinned.

“How about you, me, and a little making out on my sofa? I could make you breakfast in bed tomorrow too, get a little head start on our date,” Chris offered, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, “and no funny business either, I promise,”

Well...

“Maybe a little funny business,” you teased, running your thumb over the side of his neck. What? You were a grown-ass adult, you could have a little intimacy without it ruining a potential relationship.

He just smirked, sending a jolt through your body. Yeah, you definitely needed a little fooling around now.

“Let’s get out of here,”

#lauren reaches 400!#prompt list blurb #chris kreider #chris kreider blurb #sweetness and kisses with kreids yes please

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natusvincere · 3 years

Text

Why Can’t We Be Friends || Morgan and Vic

Who: @mor-beck-more-problems and @natusvincere When: Current Timing Where: White Crest National Park Hiking Trail What: Morgan and Vic decide to try a walk in the woods to catch up, but the conversation ventures to topics one of them would rather ignore. Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse, emotional abuse, and parent death.

This wasn’t something Vic did. But Morgan Beck had somehow developed a knack for getting Vic to do all sorts of things she didn’t do- share feelings and admit that she could possibly care for someone else, for one. Plus, there was still that nagging, gnawing guilt about the way they had ended the last time they met up, and it couldn’t be washed away with just a bit of paint and a pretty picture. So, even though it wasn’t something she did, Vic supposed it was Morgan’s compelling pull on her that was to blame, and definitely not that she was growing weak or vulnerable. She sat on a rock where they’d agreed to meet, a healthy mix of excited and nervous energy buzzing within her. As a familiar car pulled up beside her and she whistled loudly. The clumsy, frantic gait of Winnie could be heard within a moment, only seconds before Vic saw her barreling back toward her, carrying a rather large branch. Winnie jumped up on the rock with her, proud and content, and dropped the branch to give her face a quick lick. “Stupid”, she whispered with a smile, giving her a kiss on the forehead.

She stood up, wringing her hands together as Morgan left her car, but Winnie clearly didn’t share her nerves. As soon as she noticed there was another being present, the dog dashed toward the car, barking a greeting that, to anyone else, probably sounded vicious and intimidating. Vic rolled her eyes. “Winnifred!”, she shouted, whistling sternly shortly after. Winnie, for her part, didn’t seem to care, and she continued to barrel toward the car, barking happily.

Morgan was happy to see Vic again. With everything she had going on, her visits to the gallery were becoming more seldom, and she didn’t get the same connection from Vic when their paths crossed there as she did when they spoke online. And lately, Morgan felt like Vic had something she wanted to tell her. She couldn’t settle on what, the woman had so many secrets and repressed feelings, it could be anything. From the way she spoke, Vic seemed like a woman who had suffered a great deal, and was buckling under the weight of it. As she drove up to the park, Morgan wondered if maybe she was going to try and explain some of her pain, so it wouldn’t be so hard to carry.

As soon as she opened the door, she was pounced by a large, slobbering dog. Morgan tried to pet her, but the creature jumped and barked too excitedly for her to get much in the way of ear scritches. “Hi, Winnie,” she laughed. Reaching into her purse, Morgan took out a little strip of dog jerky, which made Winnie bark even louder, jump high enough to paw at Morgan’s chest. With a big smile, Morgan threw it toward Vic and beamed as the dog ran after it.

“I hope that’s okay,” Morgan called, coming up to the woman. “I know you’ve said how friendly she is, but I smell like three different cats and I figured it doesn’t hurt to make a nice impression. Are we friends enough yet for me to hug you?”

Vic watched Winnie practically trample Morgan, feeling equal parts embarrassed and amused as she watched their interaction. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t convince Winnie to be a calm, intelligent dog. She insisted on being hyper and simple. It was amazing, in a way, to watch the pure joy that radiated from such a silly creature. Morgan didn’t seem to mind, anway.

She attached Winnie to her leash as the dog ran toward her, too focused on her prize to realize what was going on. She brushed Morgan off, scratching Winnie behind her ears as she spoke. “It’s better to fill her up now than for her to find a rogue squirrel on the way that she’s dying to eat, I suppose. You saved us both a lot of distraction by bringing her that.” It struck her, briefly, that she might have reamed anyone else out for bringing her dog a treat without her permission, but it seemed Morgan had already managed to gain special treatment from Vic in more ways than one.

She bit her lip, but then shrugged and let herself fall into Morgan’s hug, awkwardly but fully embraced in it. “I’m not a hug person”, she admitted, eyeing Morgan carefully as they walked. Nothing seemed to surprise the other woman, and no matter the vitriol she sent her, nothing pushed her away, either. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Have you… been doing okay?”

Morgan laughed her way into a smile as Vic relented and let them embrace. “In that case, I’m even more honored for the privilege. I won’t ask it of you too much, but I really do appreciate it.” She gave her another squeeze for good measure and then let go, settling back onto her feet and putting a little more distance between them as they began their walk. “I gotta say, I appreciate having someone who appreciates the little old school things like just going on a walk. I don’t know too many people like that.” She elbowed Vic, and hoped for the best that it wasn’t too hard.

At the question of how she was doing, Morgan went quiet, unsure of what to say. How was she doing? There was a lot going on, and it felt like she was having to re-evaluate her ethics every week, if not every day. How did any of the so-called principled people she knew handle it? It was no wonder Remmy had left to make things easier for them. “It’s...uh, been sort of a time. But that’s just White Crest for ya. I could really use one of those quiet breaks right now, where the worst thing we have to worry about is fish falling from the sky, honestly.” She shrugged. “But I still have...my art, my job, and...well, I sort of have this literacy side project but that’s a mixed bag at best.” She looked sidelong at Vic. “But how are you? Have you considered, you know, getting out more?”

Vic eyed Morgan as she elbowed her, only able to maintain a serious expression for a moment before she elbowed her back. She quickly shoved her hands into her pockets after the gesture. “Well, most people are assh-”, she stopped, eyeing Morgan again. The other woman kept telling her to open herself up to people, to stop seeing the worst in them. It was such a natural reaction to shove them aside, as so many had done to her. She supposed at some point, it was easier than opening herself up to rejection. She cleared her throat before continuing. “...Most people don’t have time to stop and appreciate the beauty in nature, I guess. Too busy.”

She glanced at her friend, surprised to hear that she hadn’t been having an easy time lately. “Is it… something you’d like to discuss?”, she tried cautiously. “I know you mentioned this is a hard time of year for you.” For whatever reason- Vic didn’t really want to think about why. It caused too many questions about the secrets that Morgan held deep inside. Winnie yanked on the leash, pulling her forward quicker than she expected. She licked her lips before she answered, not too sure on what she’d say before she started. If you consider getting trapped in a nightmare dreamscape with Marley- “I went to the bend last week, if that’s what you mean”, she said sheepishly.

Morgan caught Vic’s thoughtful amendment and smiled, touched and grateful. “Well, in their defense, so much of life these days pulls them away from it. And with everything that hides in the shadows, maybe it’s better for them that they know their limits.” She shook herself out of the middle distance and smiled at Vic again. “But I’m glad we have this in common. It’s nice.”

She thought awhile about how she might go discussing this with Vic. If there were any words that approximated being hunted, or fearing her immortality, the way she ached when she saw aging families and the neighborhood kids graduating kindergarten and pre-k. What human words could she possibly use to explain being pulled away from the very human pieces of the world?

“I’m not sure I know how,” she said at last. “Not because I don’t want to, it’s just...hard to explain and hard to understand. I don’t even understand all of it myself. Why don’t you tell me about The Bend? I see you grinning over there. Did something interesting happen? Or maybe someone?”

“I think they’d be happier if they stopped worrying about what people thought. I wonder if that’s the problem these days”, Vic mused as they walked, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Social media has people so wrapped up in impressing others that most people are just shells of themselves at this point.” What she was saying was bullshit. Even 400 years ago, people were wrapped up in impressing each other. Some of them cared about it more than they did their own children. Social media was as much to blame for society as make-up or magazines were. They were all just extensions of issues that had existed for generations. Morgan’s remark on their commonality shook her out of her thoughts, and she smiled back at her, agreeing with a light nod. It was nice- to share something with someone. Even something as public as nature.

She let her gaze fall forward as they chatted and walked, watching as Winnie made an effort to get a good sniff of every tree they passed, stopping every few moments to look to her for approval. She nodded at Morgan’s explanation, waiting a beat before responding. “I.... understand the feeling of struggling to explain or understand certain emotions around certain events. You’re not alone in that feeling. Not by a long shot.” The worst thing in the world, besides the company being ripped out in front of you, was feeling alone. What was it about being in a room full of people that felt so incredibly isolating?

The corners of her mouth perked up again, despite the situation with Marley having been less than ideal. But the fact that they had found themselves in that situation made her laugh, when she looked back on it, because the universe has a funny way of making those things happen. “I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you”, she admitted, glancing to her side. “A friend and I ran into each other, and then had a few experiences I’d venture don’t happen in many places outside of White Crest”, she explained.

Morgan couldn’t hide the searching wonder in her eyes as Vic suggested that she might understand the understandable. There was a weight to her words that carried more gravity than anything that came from the humans she’d spoken to. Or maybe after losing so much, Morgan was just that desperate for connection.

The rest of Vic’s words forgotten, she asked, “Do you? Understand? I don’t mean that incredulously. I mean, will you tell me about it? Is that okay? I know you’re a really private person. I don’t want to presume or sound entitled to your history--It’s just, how do you get support for something no one talks about? How do you open up to someone if the words don’t exist to most people? Or if trying would make them see you differently, or stop seeing you at all?” She winced at her clumsy openness. But with the house so empty, with the world so violent and quiet at once, she was growing desperate to fill the empty spaces around her. And maybe that wasn’t fair to Vic, but she couldn’t take her words back now.

Something in the way Morgan’s questions were worded gave Vic pause. She wasn’t sure if it was the desperation behind them or the meticulous way they were arranged, but there was something subtle and hidden there. She looked forward and continued walking, but the atmosphere felt like it was closing in- like water was blocking her ears and everything sounded distant and far away. She cleared her throat; it felt like it echoed through the forest.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re asking”, she said finally.

For a long time, there was silence between them, Vic trying to ignore the intensity of Morgan’s and have a nice, simple, quiet walk, where they didn’t need to talk about feelings and the past. But then she started talking, unsure of exactly why.

“I told you my mother passed when I was very young.” Had she passed? Or was she out there still, running around with the creatures that her father insisted had taken her? “I think my father resented me for it- or he needed someone to blame.” Even just thinking of him made her insides flip with shame and self-hate. She looked down at her hands. “And at first, it bothered me. I wanted to make myself better or worth something, or even a little likable. But nothing… nothing I did was good enough. Ever.” What was she doing? Why was she talking about this? “And then by the time I was no longer a child, I resented him, maybe I resented myself, too, I don’t know. But I wasn’t at all interested in marriage… for obvious reasons, and so I was… stuck with him.” She strategically left out why exactly she was stuck with him. If only 1500s Sweden was like 21st century USA. She could have died as a happy old spinster and not have known the difference.

Why was she sharing this?

“So I guess I mean, I understand having a complicated relationship with a parent.”

Morgan didn’t know how to hide her disappointment, so she turned her face away to look out at the world instead. This wasn’t Vic’s fault. And really, this was something big she was trusting her with. This was a gift. She should be hopeful about this. But she didn’t. She felt foolish and stupid and selfish and tired--stars above, she was so tired and it wasn’t even that late--and trying to correct and re-write her thoughts wasn’t doing the trick.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last. ‘That was cruel, what he did. That was...that just sounds awful.” She sniffled, kept her eyes off in the middle distance as they walked. “That wasn’t what I was referring to, what I was trying to talk to you about but--” She cleared her throat, swallowed thickly. “My mother didn’t want kids. At least that’s what she wrote in her journal a couple of years before she had me. There was this--fuck, I don’t even know how to tell you all about this either--there was a thing. Her mother was very cruel to her. She’d get her things she wanted just to destroy them in front of her, lock her outside the house, and that’s the light stuff. And yeah, the woman had her reasons for being that way. Those were the same reasons my mother didn’t want to even bother with having a baby. But you can’t always get what you want, and I came along anyway. She wasn’t cruel to me in those same ways, though sometimes I wished she would be, so I’d have proof I wasn’t making things up or being too sensitive. And I...I’ve been in and out of therapy for years now, but I still want to get on my knees when something goes wrong or someone leaves and ask what I did wrong, what can I do to make it better, how can I fix it. I want to say I’ll be good. I can be good if you tell me how. I just...become that miserable little girl again. She’s so desperate and she’s never satisfied that she’s done enough, there always has to be something more. It’s exhausting.” She shrugged, letting the subject drop if that’s what Vic wanted. She was too disappointed to follow up with a real question so soon, and maybe she should have thought through this outing more carefully in the first place.

Vic stared ahead, hard and even, as she processed Morgan’s response. That wasn’t what I was referring to. The implication was there without it being said aloud. Morgan had been talking about the giant elephant in the room, her other past… implying that they shared something. Did they, then? Was this the day that she’d find out the thing she’d been fearing most? That Morgan was another vampire, as she expected, and Vic would be forced to turn her into hunters before morning.

Did doing such a thing make her more of a monster than being a vampire did?

“Well then, ...out with it. What were you referring to?” I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know, I don’t want to know.

Vic felt tears rise to her eyes as Morgan talked about her mother and her grandmother, and the scenarios she shared felt so similar to her own, in a way. The cruelty, the disdain, the confusion… what had been the reason they’d all been forced to experience it? Morgan understood the desperate need to please a parent and the longing to be loved and be good enough. Maybe she understood better than anyone else. And again, there was a twinkle of a thought in the back of her mind, one that tried to overtake the one that said Vic would turn her in- maybe this time, it could be different.

“Our stories seem similar”, she commented. At least when it came to their caregivers. “But as an adult, my reactions to people seem to manifest opposite to yours. I don’t care about pleasing the masses, or fixing what they presume I’ve done wrong. In fact, I’d rather let them know outright that they’ll be disappointed to know me, lest I have to handle their disappointment when they try to delve deeper.” Lyra’s singsong voice rang in her ears, saying-‘You claim you don’t care to please them, then in the same breath worry about disappointing them. You’re a walking contradiction, Victoria.’ She let out a shaky scoff and looked to Morgan. “I’m sorry it’s so exhausting. I’m sorry your mother couldn’t have been better for you. You didn’t deserve any of it. And… I think that your kindness still rings through as a testament to the type of person you are, if you don’t mind my saying.”

Morgan ignored the pointed request to explain herself and focused instead on how Vic internalized her fears. It should have been a relief to have someone understand her on any front right now. She only had so many friends left, and she was so busy trying to make sure the new ones really liked her, she didn’t dare dump her problems on them if she could help it. Emotional spirals were supposed to wait until you were at least two months in, right?

“If you’re so invested in the outcome with people you decide it’s predetermined and you try that hard to get ahead of it--that’s a lot of energy. Kind of sounds like you care a lot,” she spoke simply, with no shortage of understanding. “It might be easier if you accepted you’re not as terrible as your father led you to believe and aren’t actually going to disappoint everyone you meet. Let things happen with people without those memories controlling you. You didn’t deserve that either. And you don’t deserve to be trapped and controlled by that for as long as you have.”

But what had she been referring to? How did she step around that ache without making it seem like she didn’t trust Vic? At least, not in a specific way. “What I was talking about was uh...sort of related to my accident. It’s hard to explain to some people and it’s not something I’m good with handling misunderstandings about. I know I just told you how chronically desperate I am for approval and positive attention, and how you should just wait and see with people instead of assuming the worst, but when it comes to my...it’s just really personal and it’s hard enough talking about it honestly without managing other people not believing me or running away or thinking it’s cool or something else besides what it really was. It destroyed my life and almost everything I wanted to do with it. Whatever self-acceptance spin I put on what came after, that’s always going to be true.” Morgan shook her head ruefully. She was tired of losing people. She was tired of having to outpace her own mistakes. She was tired of feeling alone. “I need to know you’ll believe me no matter how batshit it sounds before I talk to you about it. And if you’re not sure, that’s okay, I get it, we don't have to get into it. And most times I do a good job of not letting it bother me, but lately….” Lately her life was falling apart faster than a TV movie and the thought of forever was looking a lot more terrifying.

Vic felt herself roll her eyes at Morgan’s claim, much like a petulant child who was being scolded but didn’t want to admit she was wrong. “It sounds lovely when you word it that way, but I’m not sure it’s all that simple”, she responded. There had been times when she’d tried to let her guard down, to be herself without the walls and the anger and the judgement. But something always happened that snapped her back to it- sometimes she didn’t even realize what triggered the switch at all, just that she couldn’t turn it back off. It was like the first time she tried gardening with Morgan- she couldn’t even remember what set her off. “I suppose I’m not sure I know how to not be controlled by it.” It sounded like an excuse; something she might call someone else weak for.

She knew Morgan had been having a hard time lately because of the anniversary of some accident. Her fingers brushed behind her right ear on their own accord, ghosting by the scar from the bite that still kept her pinned to this earth. Was the accident she kept referring to just a coverup for something much more sinister? Morgan’s neck didn’t hold any scars- she’d looked countless times when she had the chance, but maybe she covered them up the same way Vic did.

The more Morgan spoke, the more panic fluttered around Vic, and both her words and the trees closed in on the two of them at a threatening pace. Vic felt her breathing pick up, and her chest felt heavier with each step they took. She couldn’t take it anymore- she had to get out. Or at least had to know what the fuck this big secret was.

In one motion, she grabbed her dagger from its hiding place and then used her forearm to push against Morgan’s chest, forcing her back against a tree. Their faces were mere inches apart, and from this distance, Morgan’s lack of a heartbeat was even more abundantly clear. “Tell me what you are”, she said through gritted teeth, her voice hushed and raspy. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, and her chest was still heaving with heavy breaths. Why couldn’t Morgan have been a nice, normal human or something non-threatening, like one of those annoying fae? Why did life have to continue to be so cruel and unfair? “Come on, Morgan. You’ve been dancing around it for weeks. I’m not an idiot.” She was meant to sound threatening and cold, but the waver in her voice betrayed her. “You want to get into it, let’s get into it. What. Are. You?” With every word, the dagger danced closer to Morgan’s neck. Still no sign of a scar. Winnie appeared next to them, sitting obediently after taking a moment to lick at Morgan’s fingers.

She didn’t want to tell the hunters about Morgan, but the thought of letting a vampire roam around made her stomach twist and turn the same way it used to when she disappointed her father.

The thought of Morgan dying because of her made that feeling even worse.

Morgan never saw Vic’s turn coming. But then, when did she ever? Her back hit the tree and before she could beg for her life, there was a blade against her chest and Vic’s eyes were burning into hers, overflowing with fear and hatred. Morgan stared at her, stupidly silent as every hope she’d been collecting between them shattered. Her hands went up to Vic’s arm on instinct but she didn’t go through any of the disarming drills she’d learned between Remmy and Mina. She was so tired, and a little blade like that probably wouldn’t be the end of her, and so what if Vic cut her up into so many pieces? What else would change that hadn’t already?

“Why? Don’t you already know?” She whimpered. She wanted to come back with some harsh reply, but she could only break down into more tears. All she wanted was to rest and be loved, just a little, and she had thought that Vic was safe enough to try.

“You came prepared, so you must have been thinking about hurting me before,” she sobbed quietly. “Do you want to? Will that make you feel better?” It would be so easy to let her, and crawling to her empty home in pieces would at least be a change of pace. But Mina would worry, and Deirdre was coming home someday, and she would only be hurting them if she gave up. Slowly, her look of devastation hardened. “Come on. You’ve got to be a real piece of shit hunter if you can’t tell what I am from this close.”

Please don’t cry. Vic’s eyes flashed to Morgan’s, watching as her tears flowed freely. It was her fault she was crying. She looked up to the tree tops above them to stop her own from spilling over. “Would I be asking if I already knew?”, she asked, momentarily bewildered. “Just fucking tell me”, she demanded harshly. “I need to hear you say it”.

With Morgan’s sobbing accusations, Vic felt her head tilt, and her efforts to hold the tears back became useless. “We didn’t have to do this. We didn’t have to talk about it. We could have left well enough alone.” Her words, like her thoughts, were racing and nonsensical. The pressure she had on Morgan’s chest relaxed slightly, though her knuckles were still stark white as they held the dagger. “You’re assuming I want this to happen?”, she asked, eyebrows furrowed as she looked between the dagger and Morgan.

“I’m not a hunter”, she spat, almost offended at the accusation. Hunters were useful, but oafish and had one track minds. “I’m a… I’m not a hunter…. We’re not fucking talking about me. What the fuck are you?” There had to be only one reason why she was delaying sharing, right? Why she was so nervous to share in the first place. Because she was one of them, vicious and plotting and too awful and dangerous to be trusted. But she trusted Morgan when she didn’t think about what she might be. Her stomach felt sick the more her mind fought with itself.

Morgan’s face melted again, hurt with a new kind of betrayal. If she wasn’t a hunter then why was any of this happening? Why was she hurting her? Why was she leaning on their ‘no choice’ bullshit? She twisted Vic’s hand around with a swift snap and snatched the knife free by the blade as she pushed her away. Morgan ran the sharp side of the blade across her palm, good and deep and squeezed out a line of black blood to show before the skin sewed itself clean.

“How’s this for undead 101?” She asked, holding out the evidence. “No, I’ll do you one better.” She ripped off the leather cuff over her wrist and showed Vic the scar in the shape of Remmy’s mouth that she always hid. “And for the record, yes, Victoria! You wanted this to happen! You chose to keep talking to me, you got me out here, you brought a fucking knife just to hurt me!” She threw the knife as far away as she could from both of them. “What do any of those choices say? You’re not some pawn, and you’re not some hunter with a fucked up code to lean on so they can sleep at night!” She approached her again, fearless and still crying. “Tell me how I’m not some thing you wanted to play with and decided to break when you were done. Explain it, because I don’t understand this any other way.”

Vic was taken aback at the sudden shift of power, stumbling back toward the bath that they’d been walking in. Winnie barked and ran toward her, but Vic was too focused on the display in front of her to notice. She was confused, at first, by what she was seeing, but the black blood and instant healing were definitely not symptoms of the very thing she was fearing most. They were symptoms of something else all together.

A new kind of pit danced around in her stomach.

The scar was different than hers… the teeth weren’t right for it to be a vampire bite. “Zombie”, she whispered, finally letting her eyes find Morgan’s again. She’d made this mistake more than once before- the lack of heartbeat usually set her on a fast track of destruction. But it didn’t always mean vampire, and Vic had no interest in ridding the world of anything but the blood suckers. Victoria. “Don’t call me that!”, she yelled, and her voice seemed to shriek and echo through the trees, taunting her for the loss of control. A vision of Lyra, ethereal but disappointed, flashed behind Morgan. More tears came with the accusations, and she shook her head in both apology and defiance, her nostrils flaring as she explained. “I bring a knife everywhere!”, she yelled back, gesturing toward where her dagger was thrown for emphasis. “I bring one to the gallery, and to the park, and even the fucking vet. Do you not know how dangerous this town is?”

She licked her lips, staring Morgan down as she approached her. She felt like she was jumping out of her skin under Morgan’s gaze, and she didn’t know how to answer her questions. “I told you I’m a shit person”, is all she offered at first.

But then, after a long beat of silence, she looked down to the ground below them, letting out a shaky breath. “I assumed you were a vampire”, she said suddenly, as if that would explain everything easily. But when she looked back up, Morgan seemed to be waiting for more. “I didn’t- I never wanted to… I just thought we were going on a fucking walk, Morgan. And ever since we’ve met there was that nag in the back of my mind that you were one of them, and your implications only doubled down my suspicions, but I didn’t want you to have to die so I ignored it. But then you were about to admit something to me, and my mind jumped right to the worst possible thing, and so I panicked. And because I didn’t want you to die, I had to know then. Because you’re too good to die.” There had to be some irony there, clearly, since Morgan was apparently already dead. “I did not bring you out here to kill you. I’m not a killer. I’m not like them.”

Morgan listened to Vic, waiting for the part where all of this made sense. She waited some more. “Why does it matter what I became after I died?” She asked quietly. “I would still be me. I’d be able to feel more, but I wouldn’t be someone different. Why would being a vampire mean I have to die…?” She took a step closer to Vic and looked up into her eyes, pleading for clarity. “You haven’t explained anything, Vic. How is what you’re doing any different from them? And why do you feel like you have to? No one has to kill people for how they were made.”

Vic stood, stoic and confused, as she tried to process Morgan’s questions. How could she not see the difference here? “B-because they’re…” They. We. “...vampires are monsters, Morgan. They destroy lives and families and they need to be stopped.” The implication that she was the same as them hit her like a ton of bricks, and she physically backed away from Morgan, desperate to run away from any comparison. “I’m not like them. I’m not! Everything I’ve done has been to make sure I don’t end up like them.” She felt her breathing pick up again, and noticed Winnie pacing back and forth at her side, nervous energy building up between the two of them. “I tell hunters who they are to get rid of them, and make the world better, because I am not like them!” A sense of dread washed over her as feelings she didn’t want to acknowledge filled her up inside.

There was nothing she could do, really, to escape what she was. She could turn all the vampires on earth into hunters and she’d still be one of them. She’d still be a monster.

A sob escaped her and she turned away from Morgan, both her hands rising to rest on her forehead. “They took my mother!” Or she ran off with them intentionally, desperate to get away from her husband and unlovable daughter. “And I was ready to be gone. I was so close, I was ready, Morgan.” She was saying too much now, sharing privileged information that no one else knew, but it was out before she could stop it.

Morgan came up slowly to Vic and brushed her fingers over the woman’s. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “I’m so very sorry. It was monstrous, what they did and how they made you feel. But they were just people being cruel. And you’re just a person too. You’re a person like anyone else and don’t have to be cruel. You can be kind and you can help and give instead of taking.” She tugged on her wrists, asking Vic to let her see her. “It’s okay, Victoria. You’re already a person. You don’t have to prove that to anyone. And you don’t have to hurt other people either.” She looked up at the woman, her wet face all sorrow and compassion. “Will you look at me? Please…?”

Vic’s fingers twitched when Morgan’s brushed against hers, desperate to reach out and clutch them. But hand holds and nice words didn’t fix things like they did in books and movies. They were empty promises, filling voids only temporarily until the person at the other end disappeared. She swallowed a lump in her throat, turning around to Morgan with a reluctant eye roll. She didn’t do this. She didn’t show weakness, but as she locked eyes with Morgan, she observed the same emotions on her face that she felt in her heart, and she realized how much Morgan’s knack for getting the undoable done rang true. “I help people”, she insisted, an unrecognizable gravel to her voice. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m trying to do what’s right.” There was a pit, gnawing and growing inside her, that she might have been willing to turn Morgan in if it came down to it. Would she have? Just left her out to dry, after all the patience and kindness Morgan had offered her?

Would it have mattered if Vic truly believed all vampires were monsters?

It was too much to think about, and it made things way more nuanced than she wanted them to be. Vampires were bad and she was good for getting rid of them, that should have been that. And she didn’t know how to feel about it, or even what to say now. After a while, she said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you. I...I’m sorry if I made you feel shitty, for what you are. I’ve met plenty of fine zombies.” And plenty of annoying ones.

Morgan lifted a hand to cup Vic’s face when she finally relented. The look of self-loathing didn’t change from species to species, or even age to age, in her experience. And Vic hated herself so very much, it was a wonder she let Morgan in at all. “You send people who are like you to their deaths, Victoria,” she said sorrowfully. “That’s it, right? You were used so cruelly, and the people who were good to you were taken away, and there was no one to give you love or stop you from using your grief to mutilate yourself. And that is so unfair and I am so sorry…” She brushed the corner of the woman’s eye, which seemed ready to overflow with tears. “You deserved so much better, and I’m sorry it wasn’t given to you.”

For several moments she did her best to hold the woman’s gaze. Then she took her hand and put it over her own neck. “I’ve been hunted three times already, Vic. Do you think it would help people if they succeeded? Do you think you should finish the job for them? Because I’m just a person, like you, and like the people you send to die. I’m not better than you or anyone else. Maybe I’ve made better choices, but that has fuck-all to do with how I was turned. So, which is it? Do we deserve to die or not?”

For a moment, Vic let herself sink into Morgan’s touch. There was a tenderness there that she hadn’t let herself experience in years- maybe even centuries. Morgan’s words, and the gentleness of her tone, danced through her brain. But then she heard them. And suddenly, she stood up straight- stoic and cold once again. “Shut up”, she commanded, taking a step back. Morgan was wrong, wrong wrong wrong, and Vic didn’t want to hear it. “You need to shut the fuck up, Morgan. You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” She wasn’t like them, not the hunters or the vampires. She did the right thing by helping the hunters, but she wasn’t a killer. Winnie barked, sensing the shift in Vic’s mood. Why the fuck was she still crying? She pointed her finger at Morgan’s chest, a strangled sob escaping her lips before she spoke. “You think you know everything, don’t you? You think you’ve got it all figured out. Well you don’t. There’s no ‘we’ here.” That part wasn’t true, and she knew it. But her anger was like a blanket that covered the rest of her, dark and weighted and letting nothing else out. At the moment, it felt justified, because Morgan was saying things that could not be true, not if she didn’t want her whole world view to be shattered in an instant. For a while, she stared at her, daring her to continue speaking. “Fuck you”, she spat before she got the chance. Fuck Morgan if she thought she was going to stay there and listen to nonsense like that. She walked past Morgan at double speed back toward the car, letting out a harsh whistle commanding Winnie to follow. As she walked further and further away, she wiped harshly at her eyes, tears still flowing freely from them. She wanted desperately to forget it all, but the pain in her heart already alerted her that again, life wouldn’t be so sweet.

Alone again, Morgan walked around the park until she found the knife she’d thrown aside. Then she sat on the ground, knees pulled up to her chest, and cried. She knew she was right and Vic was scared and guilty more than she was angry, but that didn’t make her world feel any less empty.

#p:morgan #p #p:wcwbf #domestic abuse tw #emotional abuse tw #parent death tw

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chaoswillfallrpg · 4 years

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RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE is TWENTY-NINE YEARS OLD and a DEFENCE BARRISTER in THE DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT at THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC. He looks remarkably like JACK FALAHEE and considers himself NEUTRAL. He is currently TAKEN.

→ OVERVIEW:

tw: death, murder

Raised to have a strict worldview due to the fanatic attitudes of his parents, Rodolphus Lestrange has never had reason to question the nature of his reality. Rodolphus and his family resided in the beauty of Lestrange Manor in Nottinghamshire, Rodolphus’ childhood family home stood secluded on the outskirts of Nottingham. A gothic chateaux that took inspiration from their family home of the same name near Paris, it was surrounded by fields and trees, far away from muggles and cloaked in magic in the event any came for a walk in the forest. Brought up away from the Muggle world they detested, with only his mother and father for company until his younger RABASTAN was born, Rodolphus was absorbed in the thinking of his parents with very little reason to doubt anything outside of their word. MARIE LESTRANGE loved her children more than she loved herself and showered both Rodolphus and his younger brother in affection. Whilst most Pure-Blood families they associated with had nannies and school masters to aid in the raising of their children, Marie disagreed with handing her children over to someone else and insisted on doing everything herself with only the aid of a single house-elf Posy for help. She taught her children to read and write and ensured they were fluent in French by the time they went off to school and well versed in many authors that had been pre-approved by Marie for them to read.

Rodolphus and his younger brother were raised given almost everything they could ever ask for with a childhood spent taking afternoon tea in the garden and discussing the future she wanted her boys to have. His mother upheld tradition and longed for her children to make respectable Pure-Blood marriages to people who loved them. The relationship his mother and father shared captured the attention of a young Rodolphus, who longed to have a relationship like the one his parents shared and provide for them and the rest of his family. Though the Lestrange family were wealthy, their ancestors had wasted a lot of the Lestrange family fortune throwing balls and having custom couture outfits made to line the walls of their wardrobes. The building of the British Lestrange Manor cost their family a great deal and began the long tradition of the Lestrange family working in government and slowly rebuilt the fortune the rest of the wizarding world had no idea they had slowly lost, beginning with Radolphus Lestrange of who he was named. His father THIEBUAT LESTRANGE worked directly for The Minister as her Senior Undersecretary, a job which he believed was beneath him especially in a traitorous administration and had aspirations of climbing higher. His plan would be to groom Rodolphus to work in government and have him infiltrate The Department of Magical Law Enforcement to keep an eye on the goings on there and report back to him.

Before Rodolphus was sent off to Hogwarts he was given one particular request from his parents and that was to grow close to influential families within the wizarding world, particularly the Pure-Blood families who his father remarked he might need in the future. BELLATRIX BLACK was of particular interest to his parents, with a father who worked in Wizgamot and wealth and beauty that would make a good wife. Rodolphus went to school in the knowledge she’d be someone he’d need to at the very least befriend but was disappointed with the person he found. Bellatrix was incredibly loud and opinionated with a fondness for torturing other children and an inability to follow even the most simplest set of rules as did her friends CASTOR WILKES and EVAN ROSIER. An intelligent young man, Rodolphus had a high opinion of himself which was solidified by the praising of teachers and almost flawless grades which made hanging around Bellatrix and her posse even more difficult for him. He tried to keep them sweet by sitting with them at parties and occasionally handing in a page of homework for them but mostly preferred to seek the company of his roommates LUCIUS MALFOY, ARISTAEUS GREENGRASS who he found far less tiresome despite Lucius’ over inflated ego and Eirik’s constant mood swings. Though he narrowly missed out on being a Prefect due to PROFESSOR SLUGHORN’s clear favoritism of Lucius, Rodolphus did graduate a celebrated member of the Slytherin Quidditch team and Slug Club which greatly pleased both his parents.

Upon graduating from Hogwarts, Rodolphus was quickly swept up into a job at the Ministry and began training under Bellatrix’s father CYGNUS BLACK. Rodolphus wasn’t quite sure if it was his legal knowledge, spotless record from Hogwarts or a polite word from Bellatrix or his father that had made Cygnus agree to be his mentor, but either way he was glad to have such a respected name in the wizarding world teaching him how to practise law. Training to become a barrister was certainly grueling and required Rodolphus to sacrifice the majority of his personal life in order to be taken seriously by Cygnus. When he wasn’t at the office, he spent the majority of his time at the Black family home helping Cygnus prep for his cases and eating dinner with his family who had come to slowly replace Rodolphus’ own due to the amount of time he spent with them. Bellatrix thankfully was hardly ever home, supposedly travelling or working on personal projects her father hoped would be beneficial to their family Rodolphus had chalked up to meaning a polite term for finding some direction beyond sneering at mudbloods and barking at her sisters. The Black family seriously lacked direction from Rodolphus’ point of view, NARCISSA seemed harmless but if you looked at her often enough you’d see the way she looked at men with eyes like a snake, burrowing into the souls of helpless men.

Rodolphus had been suspicious for some time that Narcissa's trained gaze had been on his younger brother, considering he’d notice him acting strangely lately and spending a lot of time at the Black home, which he disliked. Bellatrix was Bellatrix. Then there was ANDROMEDA, the middle daughter who was quiet and studious. She cared not for parties and rolled her eyes at the idea of finding a husband often along with a rude quip that made Rodolphus chuckle to himself. The two exchanged the odd piece of polite conversation, though Rodolphus only fully began speaking to her when he took over her father’s job when he became a judge. Andromeda had graduated from an accomplished witch with a longing to learn and better the world she’d been raised in which he found both admirable and misguided considering she came from wealth and privilege as he did. Nevertheless he agreed to train her using the same methods her father had used on him. The life they had chosen was a lonely one and whilst Andromeda did have friends and a personal life he noticed she spent the majority of her evenings in his apartment in High Gate attempting to find something useful which would help them win their cases and slowly became more than just his mentee. He began to learn things about her that he found interesting, her relationship with her sisters and her theories on blood purity he hadn’t really considered before.

Rodolphus still thought being a Pure-Blood made you better than others, but he did consider those he knew of the same blood as them who were not fit to wipe their shoes. As Andromeda nears the end of her training, Rodolphus has come to regard her as a close friend of his and a much needed warmth in his life he’d been missing in the pursuit of greatness. Though their caseload is often petty crimes such as underage wizards using magic, there have been a few more interesting cases recently that have kept both him and Andromeda busy as Aurors attempt to find the culprit of those kidnapping and killing multiple people across London. Most recently the pair have been defending SILAS CRUMP, an unregistered werewolf frightened he’d be framed for the killing of his daughter. Supposedly found by a witch and wizard he can’t recall the names of, Silas was put under the Imperius Curse and given a false memory both he and Andromeda can’t seem to break through. Curious, the pair have been trying to find other cases of other magical creatures with similar stories, until the case took a turn. The Minister’s son BOOKER BAGNOLD was found dead in the Ministry’s fountain on Halloween with one named attached to the killing. Silas Crump. Confident there is more lurking underneath the case, Rodolphus won’t rest until he has won his case but with his client missing, people closest to him keeping secrets and dark forces at play has no idea what else he may be uncovering in the process.

→ ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:

Blood Status → Pure-Blood

Pronouns → He/Him

Identification → Cis Male

Sexuality → Up To Player

Relationship Status → Single

Previous Education → Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Slytherin)

Societies → N/A

Family → Thiebaut Lestrange (father), Marie Lestrange (mother), Rabastan Lestrange (brother), Ilar Travers (uncle), Vivienne Travers (aunt), Isolde Travers (cousin), Evora Travers (cousin)

Connections → Aristaeus Greengrass (best friend), Andromeda Black (close friend/mentee/potential love interest), Lucius Malfoy (close friend), Decius Flint (friend), Bellatrix Black (friend), Castor Wilkes (friend), Isolde Travers (friend), Cygnus Black (ex-mentor), Silas Crump (client), Regulus Black (assistant)

Future Information → Eventual Member of The Death Eaters, Husband of Bellatrix Black

RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE IS A LEVEL 7 WIZARD.

#rodolphus lestrange #jack falahee #connor walsh #how to get away with murder #htgawam #harry potter rp #wizard #neutral #magical law enforcement #wizgamot #magic #lestrange #taken #taken wizard #taken neutral #tw: death #tw: murder

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drjackandmissjo · 3 years

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it’s nice to have a friend

previous chapter --- chapter 7 --- next chapter

feysand masterlist

“Call my bluff, Call you ‘babe’“

It had been a fairly long day for Feyre. She had to organise a new collection for her gallery, dealing with things like catering for the event and security and insurances on the pieces that had to be exposed. Her assistant Ressina was searching for two more artworks, since two of her own paintings that she was supposed to showcase had been just bought.

The website Azriel had built for her gallery had been a complete success since the opening day, through it Feyre had managed to sell almost all of her creations and many of those that she presented through the gallery itself, reaching the proper audience even outside of Prythian. Paying for international shipping was her new most hated activity, but she couldn't complain.

In the few years since she had graduated and started business for herself, she had made a name for herself. Her junior and last year of university had given her the opportunity to internship in one of the best art museums in Velaris, where she learnt the importance of good displays and how to haggle the right price for each piece. During that time she mostly painted for commissions, which she continued to take now, five years later, with the only difference being that now a 'Feyre A.N.' costed much more than in her early days. Even those she created freely, out of her own heart's desires, were being sold at fairly high prices with a surprisingly high rate.

So now she had to look and scout for new artists to display, considering the current shortage of her own artworks. It all brought a whole new sense of responsibility to Feyre and a whole lot of paperwork she wasn't particularly fond of. She was everyday grateful of her choice of hiring an assistant, even if at the beginning she was a bit sceptical.

Thankfully, Velaris was the best place in the entire world to be an artist, a safe haven: the city had an entire neighborhood, the Rainbow, fully inhabited by writers and sculptors and poets and painters, with several theatres and galleries and museums. Feyre had chosen to open shop there, in one of the main streets and it had been a glorious success since the inauguration. The artists that made the community had welcomed her warmly and with open arms, helping her get on her own feet at the start with their support, and now she was repaying them in kind, offering opportunities to anyone who might need them.

Her originally rented space now fully belonged to her, having been bought two years after the opening with the money her hard work brought. She had fallen in love with the locale in an heartbeat, as she walked the Rainbow hand in hand with her boyfriend as he helped her carry back to her place bags full of paint and canvases. Feyre had stopped dead in her tracks, as if called by it, declaring it the perfect spot. Rhys had laughed at her and kissed the top of her head, telling her how she should take the number of the owner and contact them to see if she could rent. Being fresh out of college meant she didn't have enough funds to do more, but one day, Rhys had said, it could've been hers.

The old lady who owned the space had been ecstatic with her call and heard her ideas with interest. The rent was decent, given the great metrage and locations, but the place was new and needed little to no modifications, and thus 'Starfall ' gallery was born.

When her clock chimed, telling her the time, she slowly rose from her chair, stretching her sore back. The new tattoo she had gotten three weeks prior on her spine still hadn't healed fully, causing her some wincing that her husband was constantly worried of. The long piece was a masterpiece on its own, the longline depicting the different lunar phases she had drawn herself.

Deciding to call it a day, she gathered her stuff and closed the lights, locking the door on her way out. Despite it being mid-October, the weather was still pleasantly warm even during the evening, and Feyre enjoyed walking alongside of the Sidra quietly as the wind quietly messed her hair. She and Rhys had bought a townhouse on the other side of the river before their wedding, close enough to be able to walk to their respective workplaces, she to the Rainbow while he went back to the university, teaching English poetry and drama, as he had chosen that specific minor on his senior year.

Although they had a similar commute, the different paths had Rhys always beat her to the rush home and he started usually dinner, as she was downright cursed with her cooking inhabilities. Even helping in the kitchen was something she did carefully, her and her husband both weary of the outcomes. The only thing she could do safely from 'scratch' was to heat up soup.

A wicked plan began to outline itself in her mind. It had been awhile since she had humoured her husband, both too focused on their respective works. She moved in the upstair bedroom they shared, removing her proper attire to slip into a severely more comfortable pair of leggings and a worn out t-shirt, covered in blue paint of every shade. " This is gonna be fun" she thought, delighted in the possible turn of events as she rang up his favourite Chinese restaurant to order take-out to be delivered.

And then she set to 'work'.

***

As soon as she felt the front door open, Feyre moved swiftly to rotate the timer on the oven and made it set off immediately. She knew Rhys had heard the little series of noises that signaled the end of a cooking process. He usually would discard his keys on the small table that decorated their tiny foyer as soon as the door closed behind him, but this time he was stalling.

Probably debating whether to retreat back outside in case the kitchen exploded or not.

The problem wasn't that she was a bad cook perse. Feyre never had much time playing around the stove growing up, thankfully for them Elain was the chef of the household. She had learnt the basics, how to boil water for instant cheap ramen noodles and how to heat up frozen pre-cooked stuff in the microwave of the communal kitchen of her dorm on her first month in Velaris, with Alis patiently telling her what to do to survive in case there was an emergency. During the years she had tried a little more, once she moved with Amren and Mor and had a kitchen at her disposal without limitations.

Her first attempt at scrambling eggs for breakfast set the fire alarm off and she had to explain to an exasperated fireman that the house wasn't on fire. That earned her a wary look from her roommates, but considering that neither of them had any luck with cooking, no one spoke of it for the following week.

Her second one brought a weird texture of a pasture looking like brown instead of the expected yellow, completely stuck at the bottom of the pan. Not burnt, simply attached there and impossible to remove. She then went to buy a new set, throwing the mystery pan immediately in the trash.

Cassin was with her for her third trial, to guide her into the mystical art he had mastered, and made her solemnly swear to never, ever , again touch a kitchen utensil if not with the sole purpose to eat with it, and even then he had some serious doubts about letting her anywhere near anything inside a kitchen. She wasn't allowed to be there unsupervised, he had said, scared shitless.

So the problem wasn't inside her cooking abilities, since she made the best sandwiches out of anyone in the Inner Circle, but rather her rotten luck an inability not to burn anything that involved heat or patience to be made.

A smile appeared on Feyre's lips as she suppressed a series of giggles that were threatening to rise up, imagining the face her husband was surely making. The sounds from the foyer told her two things: the door had been closed and remained unlocked, ready to aid in their escape from a fire that Rhysand thought undoubtedly might happen any minute, and her husband was taking his time through his routine, as if a minimal change in the air might've triggered the self destruction of their home.

"Darling?" he called for her as he made his way through the open space of the living room to reach for the kitchen, cautiously stopping before properly entering the room and setting off something.

Feyre immediately turned around, her light brown hair neatly folded in a messy bun swinging to the side and promptly losing some strands that fell into her face. She found him leaning against the doorframe, seemingly relaxed were it not for the fact he was hiding his hands inside the pockets of his black pants. Her genuine smile seemed to ease his stance and Rhys took the opportunity to move towards her. She turned back at the task at hand as he walked past the island, using her knife to cut an apple into tiny slices. His arms came to encircle her, effectively pinning her against the counter, and she leaned back, resting her head on his chest.

"How was work today?" she asked, warmth radiating through her as he bent down to place a soft kiss to the top of her head. For someone who thought the stove might explode at any minute, he was incredibly calm with the whole ordeal.

"The usual" he shrugged "some kid had the audacity to groan when I told them we would soon start with Shakespeare's Sonnets!"

One of the many things she utterly loved about him was how passionate he was for his job, for the curriculum he got to teach each class. Overall, his favourite subject was Shakespeare, on whom he did his dissertation which got him the place at the University. He still kept on writing, publishing mostly the new researches his department did, and he worked with all his heart.

Feyre shook her head slightly, "Kids this day have no respect." Then, in afterthought, she added "Are you going to downplay the whole homoerotic full blown text like our old prof did?"

"Are you crazy? That's the best part!" His grip tightened around her as she set the knife down, wiping her hands on a nearby handchendief. "I'm thinking about letting those freshmans do their winter final paper on who they actually thought Good Ol' Willy was shagging."

"Professor Carver might object." she said, turning in his arms and now facing him, her back against the cold material of the counter.

"Who do you think I got the idea from? That man wants nothing more than to gossip, even if it's 500 years old stuff."

"Remember how he was somehow the first person outside our Inner Circle to know we were dating when we came back?" They both laughed at the memory, noses brushing softly as they were both content to remain there.

"How was your day?" he asked, his breath caressing her neck gently.

"Too much paperwork. But I sold that Springtime painting we both didn't like to probably the most horrible and rude woman ever."

The woman had truly been a demon: she had stormed in as if she owned the place, demanding attention. Ressina had been patient and listened to her raging nonsense as best as she could, but couldn't do much herself. Feyre then went into her aid: she had past experience dealing with bad customers from when she used to be a waitress in high school, yet this woman took the cake. lanthe Spring, as she had proudly introduced herself as if she was the most important person in the world, was looking for a present for her husband, she had told her while raising the most preposterous ring to ever been made. The green gems looked more like a torture device than a wedding ring, but Feyre didn't usually judge. After an entire hour looking at the catalogue, her eyes had set on one of the paintings Feyre had done way back in her freshman year. She had finally gotten the approval from the art department to sell the early works she had done during her period there and the majority had either already been sold or she had gifted to her family and friends. That was the last one to remain in Feyre's possession, probably the laziest work she had ever done: the colours well dull, the motif unclear; despite it showing a green and flowery scenery, it resembled much more a dead nature. She hadn't been in the best mindset when the work had come to life, her constant fights with Tamlin causing an artist block on all her works, yet the woman had been ecstatic, claiming it reminded her of her own husband.

Feyre didn't make the connection until she saw the checkbook, yet no feeling came to her, good nor bad. She would've liked to know his reaction at seeing her painting though, just to get some sick and twisted satisfaction at how she was thriving with only her 'hobby' . "But I got a nice cut from that, so dinner's on me!" she finished lightly, pulling herself from her daydream.

"I know exactly what you're doing, Feyre Darling." he hummed from her neck, as he drew his lips across the skin. Suddenly she was finding it hard to concentrate. "I have no idea of what you're talking about, Rhysand."

He pulled back abruptly, moving their bodies till she was now leaning against the empty and clean kitchen island. "Your attempt at scaring me almost worked, you know?" he whispered against her ear, moving to nibble at the soft flesh, "But next time make a little mess with some flour all around if you want to truly give me a heart attack."

"But you see," she started, trying to sort her foggy thoughts as the world narrowed to where his lips were against her neck once more, "I'd have to take you to the ER then and that's too much work, babe." She was breathless, sick of the attention her neck was getting. Hands plunged in his hair, positioning him flush against her as her lips claimed his, his own hands roaming freely under her T-shirt.

He suddenly pulled away slightly, eyes never leaving hers and not bothering to remove his hands from where they rested on her back, slowly working the clasps of her bra. "Not to mention you don't even know where to find most things that aren't downright edible without preparation in our pantry, am I correct?"

She brought him back down in an instant, "Arrogant prick" she murmured against his lips as she began to undo the button of his shirt, their hips moving in sync as their lips.

He hoisted her up on the island counter in one swift move as she took the shirt off of his shoulders, caressing the inky swirls of his traditional lilynian tattoo that adorned his upper torso. He immediately returned the favour, removing her tee and bra in one swipe, moving his attention fully to the newly exposed skin, biting and nipping there. Her grip on his hair became iron as his hands darthed southward, his own wedding band cold against her feverish skin as his mouth drew circles around her breast. He began to slowly slid off her leggings, never once removing his mouth from her, when the doorbell rang.

A string of colourful profanities that could've rivaled a sailor's entire vocabulary made its way out of Feyre's mouth as her husband merely laughed at their interrupted moment.

"I've ordered Chinese" was the only non-curse Feyre spoke as she jumped of the counter, grabbing her t-shirt to answer the door at least decent.

"I was indeed promised dinner" Rhys said, not bothering to cover himself as his wife paid for the food.

"I still got you there for a second, didn't l?" she asked, walking back to the kitchen carrying two bags.

Rhys kissed her cheek sweetly, "Always, my Darling."

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dopescotlandwarrior · 4 years

Text

Bluegrass-Chapter 26 Final

A special thanks to @statell for your help and wisdom

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Twenty-six

Claire popped her head up after examining Porcelain, “we have pre-ovulation Jamie, she is ready…today.”

“I’ll call Jason and get him back here.”

Claire smiled to herself because she could hear Jamie’s excitement. He was on pins and needles being so close to the big reveal, is Runner fertile? She brought Porcelain into season early by using lights for an extra five hours each day. The lights above her stall were timed to go on at two o’clock in the morning. That and hormones worked like a charm, it was finally time.

Jason strode into the breeding room and pulled the leather neck cover from a cabinet. He put it over Porcelain’s neck for protection from biting. Her tail had been wrapped for the same reason. She was washed and ready for her prince. Jason looked at Rupert holding her halter, Angus ready to capture leaking semen, and Jamie biting his nails.

“Everybody relax!” He quickly composed himself, “please, is what I meant to say, please relax and pretend like you do this every day. This is something new but please don’t let it show to the horses.”

Jason had almost completed his month of training at a nearby stud farm where he was hands-on in the breeding barn where things sometimes go catastrophically wrong. The stress was palpable today and that is when people make mistakes.

Jamie looked at Jason and appreciated his authority. He chose the right man for the job.

Claire walked in with Runner and handed the lead to Jason. He coaxed him forward as Runner smelled Porcelain’s honey pot raising his head in the air and curling his lips back. He was more than a little interested and tried to mount her immediately. He slid to her side, basically falling off. Jason was reassuring and backed Runner so his nose was in Porcelain’s butt again. This time Runner was spot on and entered her for a total of one minute if that.

When Runner moved off her, Angus shoved his penis into a collecting tube and looked the other way, blushing crimson.

Jamie congratulated everyone on a job well done as the horses were being led away. He took a double-take at Claire’s face and had to cough several times so he didn’t laugh. She would need him right away, so he quickened his pace to put Runner away.

“Well, an exciting start to our new venture. That went well, don’t you think?”

Jamie put his arm around her waist so he could direct her to his office, on the double. With the door closed and locked he turned into a purring panther and his eyes bored holes into Claire’s body. As he circled her his hand felt her gorgeous ass and then her breast.

Claire giggled nervously. Watching Runner cover Porcelain shot her arousal into a new stratosphere. She needed to get Jamie home for an hour and fought to control herself this close to him.

“Let me see them, Claire,” he breathed into her ear. “Please lass, make them bounce for me for just a minute.”

Jamie had her shirt unbuttoned in thirty seconds and unclasped her bra. Her naked breasts, now bigger due to the pregnancy, were out and proud for her man. He closed in on her holding one of them in his warm hand. Squeezing and caressing, pinching her nipple until she grasped at him. He held her bra out and then clasped it back to her body. He re-buttoned her shirt while her chest heaved from the contact.

“I…I am going home to rest a bit before my afternoon appointments.”

“Let me drive ye lass, I could use a nap myself.”

When they were safely away from the barn Claire attached herself to Jamie making him stretch his neck to see around her. She ran her tongue up his neck to his ear and circled it, warm and wet. Jamie made a land-speed record getting home and lifted her out of the truck.

“Why Misses Fraser, ye look positively done in by what ye saw.”

Claire’s half-lidded eyes sent a clear warning that he was not to dally and tease because she needed hardcore loving this instant. Jamie laughed and carried her up to the bedroom.

“How would the lady like to be loved today?”

“I need a brute.”

Jamie chuckled at her intensity, “Well then, one brute coming up.”

The first scan to test for pregnancy is scheduled fifteen days after live cover, and the whole barn seemed ready to explode with the waiting. On day fifteen, Jason assisted Claire with Porcelain’s scan while Jamie waited outside the stall. Claire knew he was pacing and smiled to herself. She could already see the bump of a tiny developing horse. She was overcome, “oh Porcelain.” Claire laid her head on the mare's neck and Jamie mistook her action for an empty uterus. He stopped pacing and stared at her.

“You are going to be such a good mother sweetheart.”

“Is she or not Sassenach?”

Claire smiled and shook her head yes. Jamie exhaled the breath he was holding and whoops went up throughout the barn. Runner was fertile, Porcelain was pregnant, and the fanciest mares in the nation would start coming in next week. Those that were from Kentucky would be transported to the compound for breeding and returned home. Those that were flown in would stay for at least twenty days, some longer if they did not conceive on with the first cover.

It was a glorious time at Highland Brothers Farm.

As spring came to Kentucky, the wildflowers bloomed, the rain came, the fields and pastures were blue-green and lush, and new babies practiced using their long legs to run and leap.

Jason walked into the breeding barn every morning and reviewed the mares to be covered with Claire. They had to work very closely to schedule them and with Lulu’s help made sure each mare was covered as many times as necessary without exhausting Runner or depleting his sperm count. It was a revolving door of mares into and out of their facility that kept Claire on her feet all day and sometimes all night with a foaling dam. Night watch was shared between Rupert, Angus, Jason, and Jamie, to keep the mares calm and call Claire when a dam was in labor.

When Steve graduated from the academy, he joined Jamie’s crew because they needed another set of hands. He pitched in with breeding through may and took one night a week to sleep in the barn. He loved being at the compound but still dreamed of racing to a fire almost every night. When he was hired by a local fire station Jamie and Claire threw him a party with the whole crew and Steve’s friends from the academy. Claire was so proud of him.

Jamie worried constantly about Claire. She had stepped back from her practice in mid-July because she was exhausted from the workload of the past six months. She could rest more now that the foals were all born, and the breeding season was over. She was back to cooking sumptuous meals every night and created a magnificent nursery with Jamie.

“Sweetheart, Molly is here to drive me to town for supplies. We will stop for coffee or something so two hours tops.”

She leaned over his shoulder and kissed his cheek and then she was gone. Jamie was on his phone the second the front door closed and shortly after, Rupert, Angus, and Steve, joined Jamie on hands and knees as they assembled the track and narrow shelf that would go completely around the nursery. Jamie kept looking at his watch as the shelf was installed and then the track. When the train pieces were pulled out, they all started playing with them as Jamie rolled his eyes.

When Claire came home, she found Jamie sitting in the same chair with the same work in front of him. She smiled, so happy he could relax a bit and just sit while she was gone.

“Wait Sassenach, let me carry those bags upstairs. Come with me to point to where these belong.”

Claire reached for the switch, but the light did not go on. Instead, an adorable train, five cars long, with multicolored lights underneath it, was rolling along a track that had not been there when she left. She was mesmerized watching it. Bubbles poured out of the smokestack and the rhythmic noise was almost hypnotizing.

“That is the cutest little train! How did you do all this while I was gone?”

“The lads helped.”

Jamie screwed the light bulb tighter into the lamp and the room flooded with light. “I wanted ye to first see it like the bairn will see it .”

Claire walked around the room looking at the mitered shelf that was attached to the wall without visible means of support. She looked closely at the train, so cute, and gender-neutral.

They had opted out of ultrasounds through Claire’s pregnancy unless medically necessary. She was sure it was a girl, but poor Jamie was completely in the happy-dark. She hugged her husband moving the beach ball to the side.

“You are already the best father, sweetheart.”

Jamie’s chest tightened with that compliment and he hugged her as close as he dared. One more month was going to kill him, but manage he must.

Claire slowed down during the next week. Under the watchful eye of her husband, she had plenty of time to rest up for the big event. Jamie worried about the distance to Lexington hospital, but they were prepared for a long labor and would leave with the first contraction. He had devoured four books on gestation, childbirth, and emergency procedures during labor and delivery. The latter he requested from Steve and read it three times when alone in his office. He was prepared for any eventuality and presented a composed and strong demeanor to Claire for which she was grateful.

Jamie’s head popped up from his work when he heard Claire coming into his office.

“Sassenach! What a nice surprise. Everything okay love?”

She seemed timid when she sat down on his office couch with a sigh. “Yes, I am right as rain, maybe a bit lonely in the house is all. Can I help with anything?”

Jamie kept her busy with the build-up of tasks while Lulu and Jason were on vacation. Anywhere he went in the barn, she was right behind him. He had to turn slowly or run her down. Something about that neediness was a warning sign to Jamie and he put his arm around her to lead her back to the office. She moved from the couch to the chair across from his desk and sighed a lot.

“I think a nice drive to Lexington is in order Sassenach. Please don’t move, I’m tellin the lads we’re leaving.”

Jamie hoped she would stay seated and ran through the compound whistling for his friends. While he explained he was taking Claire to the hospital they heard a blood-curdling scream from his office and started running.

“Claire! What’s happened?”

She was on her hands and knees on the floor, breathing heavily.

“My water broke and I want to push! It feels like she is right between my legs Jamie!”

“That’s impossible,” he whispered. With the emergency procedures forgotten at the moment, Jamie called the fire station and asked for Steve. He described the symptoms and heard the one thing he dreaded.

“Get her to the couch, on her back, get several clean sheets, a pillow, a stack of towels. I bring the rest, be there in five.”

The line went dead in Jamie’s hand and he stared at the phone until Claire screamed his name. He held out house keys to Angus, told him where the linens were kept, and told him what to bring. Angus ran for his truck to gather the supplies.

Claire was barely hanging on through the painful contractions and bit down on the pain to stop the scream that threatened to come out. She heard the wail of the sirens coming and vaguely recognized the sound of a fire engine. She wondered where the fire was until another contraction gripped her and she told Jamie she had to push. He asked her to puff with him, but she couldn’t hear him anymore. Her body was responding to the ancient call to bear down and she could not stop.

When Steve came rushing into the office, he was carrying two large cases that were quickly opened as monitors were attached to Claire. The sheets were delivered, and Steve covered the couch and Claire’s lower half. He talked to her the whole time, explaining what was happening. When he looked under the sheet he almost fainted. The baby was crowning and on her next push, he could see much more of the head.

Two other EMT’s came in, one had an open line to the hospital, the other was checking the monitors. Jamie felt so helpless and terrified. Steve asked him to sit at Claire’s head and hold her hand, encourage her to push when she got too tired. He gently held the baby’s head and pressed back on Claire’s tissue as someone handed him a bulb aspirator to clear the airways.

Steve never stopped talking to Claire who was struggling to find the energy to keep up the constant pushing. The next contraction pushed one shoulder out and Claire laid back on the pillow and panted. Jamie caught a tear that squeezed out the corner of her eye and kissed her cheek before resuming his prayers. He was white with fright.

Steve looked at the monitor and saw another contraction coming, he hoped this would at least get the other shoulder out, it was the hardest part for Claire. When she was gripped with the powerful pain, Jamie helped her up as she groaned, red-faced, into the pushing. It went on longer than the others and it panicked Jamie until he heard Steve’s excited voice telling her to push, it was almost over.

“Jamie! Come here and see your baby girl be born!”

Another EMT slapped gloves on Jamie and Steve pulled his hands to support his daughter’s head and back placing his own hands over the father’s. When Claire groaned through another contraction, the tiny body shot out into her father’s hands. In a single heartbeat, Jamie fell in love with the tiny creature before she was whisked away.

Jamie had tears streaming down his cheeks as he kissed Claire’s face and told her how brave she was.

“Ye did it love. Ye have a beautiful daughter. She is beautiful, but she has red hair. Sorry.”

Claire laughed out loud as Jamie picked her up and laid her on the gurney. Steve laid the bundled baby on her chest and she was loaded into the ambulance for the trip to Lexington. Steve was still connected by phone to her doctor. He read all monitors to her and smiled when she told him, “excellent job, the mother was in good hands.”

Jamie just watched his two girls and hardly heard a single sound except the baby grunting a bit and Claire cooing to her. Time and space fell away for him until the doors opened in Lexington and he jumped out. As the gurney was rolled away Claire shouted for him and her fright was replaced with a smile when he walked by her side.

“Always and forever Jamie?”

“Never to be parted, love.”

Steve ran up to Jamie and pumped his hand saying what a beautiful daughter he had. Jamie watched him run back to the ambulance kicking his heals three times. It was his first delivery, of a dear friend, no less. He was a very happy EMT today. Jamie ran to catch up with Claire.

The hospital was very pro father so Jamie was able to stay with Claire and baby while her doctor stitched up the tearing and verified her uterus was empty. Jamie liked the female doctor because she was direct and left nothing to the imagination.

“Well, you defied the odds that predicted a long labor and ample time to get to the hospital.” She looked at Claire, “are you alright after such a scare?”

Like music to Jamie’s ears, she stated she was perfectly fine with a new daughter and a devilishly handsome husband, making the doctor laugh.

Later, in the early evening, Claire was napping so Jamie sat next to his daughter and stared at the remarkable tiny human. His heart rate shot up when she stretched and grunted. Jamie so wanted to hold her, but the grunts became louder and her little chin started to quiver. Jamie was completely undone when the wailing started.

“Will you bring her to me, Jamie?”

He had read all about how to hold and transport a newborn. He slipped his hand under her head and lifted her into his arms. She went quiet suddenly and opened her eyes making Jamie’s heart nearly stop in his chest. The wailing resumed and baby was laid at Claire’s breast. When the baby latched onto a nipple Jamie watched with new tears stinging his eyes. He pulled out his phone and clicked pictures of mother and child.

Claire put a fresh diaper on her baby girl and looked closely at her, now sleeping peacefully with a belly full of milk.

“Nothing we have will work, Jamie.”

“Sassenach, I dinna ken they even make what er we lack.”

She felt her heart melt with the return of his contracted speech and never loved him so much.

“None of the names we have will work. Her name is Faith.”

Jamie looked at the baby, “Faith.”

Claire and Faith were asleep and Jamie smiled at the now-forgotten nipple inside her open mouth. He changed her and bundled her tightly before setting her in the bassinet on her side. It was three o’clock in the morning and he couldn’t wait for her to wake up again, wailing, so he could pick her up for a few magical seconds. He wanted to hold his wife so badly and looked at the cold Lazy Boy, moving toward it.

“Jamie, can you lay with me, please. I’m cold and I miss you.”

When he pulled her against his chest she sighed in his warmth and protection. He is such a good man she thought.

“I love you is woefully short of the emotion I feel Jamie. It is my life’s mission to find a way to express my love.”

“Ye already have lass, and she sleeps not three feet away.” He kissed her temple and cuddled her to his warmth.

The miracles came daily for the Fraser’s as they settled into parenthood. Molly and Lulu could not stay away, and it seemed one of them was always with Claire during the first three weeks. Jamie would rush home to find everything done, his wife and daughter sound asleep giving him peace of mind to return to work.

In October, when the leaves were in full color, Claire bundled Faith into her carriage for a walk around their favorite lake. Jamie was telling her about the race results of the yearlings when Claire squealed with delight and pointed at the baby. Jamie decided she was just as cute as always and continued his discussion stopping abruptly when Faith smiled at him. Jamie stopped in his tracks and looked closely at the dimples that punctuated her face. He had never seen them because they only appeared when she smiled. After that, he lived for Faith’s next smile.

Near the end of November, Claire received a package from Sports Illustrated. She ran for a knife and pulled out a large softcover book. It was a coffee table book, with hundreds of HD pictures of her and Runner. There was text running through the pictures that told the story of a miracle baby horse and the woman he chose to make him a champion. A separate page was dedicated to each of his races and Claire turned the pages reading every word. She was jolted by the close-ups of her winner’s tears laying tracks in her dirty cheeks, and looking up at Runner with her hands on his face. A close up of her face set in calm determination in the Belmont gate just minutes before she won the Triple Crown.

When Claire turned the page to the Kentucky Derby, Nosh had captured her salute to the governor and Claire felt the damn break behind her eyes and the tears gushed. She held a towel under her nose and read the tribute to the first woman to win that distinguished race.

Jamie stood frozen at the door watching Claire cry. He looked at the book on her lap and smiled at his darling baby.

“Are ye alright Sassenach?”

She looked up through watery eyes and shook her head yes. “May I leave you two for a bit? There is someone I need to see.”

“Of course love.”

Claire walked to the pasture gate searching for them and decided to walk the bluegrass until he smelled her. In under a minute she heard a whiny and saw him galloping toward her, tossing his head in a bouncy gate. Coming up the rear was a fat Porcelain, looking fit and pregnant. Claire threw her arms open wide and walked into his chest locking her hands around his neck.

Runner sniffed her all over and nickered to her showing mental images of her hugging him. There was static in the images and she really had to concentrate to see them. Runner was obviously happy to see her but quickly bolted away to chase Porcelain. Claire was thrilled to see Runner, but she no longer felt the deep connection with him.

Over the next week, the images that he used to communicate could no longer be seen. At first, she struggled not to lose them until she saw Runner, so happy in his new life, a champion forever.

When the first snow fell in January, Claire and Jamie were at the gate to bring Runner and Porcelain in for the night. She saw them through the heavy snowfall, heads tossing and kicking back legs into the air. It was horse nirvana. Claire took a deep breath and opened her soul, letting go of Runner, feeling him blow away from her while she watched him play. It was an intensely private moment, just she and Runner saying goodbye.

Claire later explained what happened in an email to Nosh, saying she no longer heard animals talk.

Nosh replied with his infinite wisdom.

‘My dearest Claire, the odds have not been so heavily stacked against a horse since Sea Biscuit and here he is, a champion for the ages. Your gift made it possible. You can focus on your loving family now but stay alert. I expect you will converse with animals again someday. When he needs you. Love Nosh’

Claire whispered, “thank you, my friend.” She felt closure from his words, infinitely better deep inside where she missed Runner. Her sadness was replaced with knowing she would ride him through the volumes of history yet to be written. They would never be forgotten.

As the days turned into months and then into years the breeding and foaling season came and went as they all waited for a superstar to be born from Midnight Runner. Lulu kept diligent records of the offspring and how they did racing. Porcelain was bred three times in four years, the first two colts were sold at Keenan. The third was a filly, such a light grey she looked pure white. She was a beauty and Jamie kept her to race, and then breed.

He was partial to the little filly because she was brave and funny and big. After she was weened he turned her out with Runner every chance he got and was blown away by her speed when they chased each other. She was registered Midnight Love.

Claire kissed her daughter’s cheeks a dozen times while Faith giggled and counted to twelve. Jason tapped his horn outside, and Claire handed her new son to his father with a kiss. He held her to him.

“Ye promised no more than three hours lassie, do ye remember?”

She looked into crystal blue eyes, “I’ll be back in two.”

Jason chatted on about his upcoming wedding glancing at the top folder and staring at the name of the facility.

“Why does that name sound so familiar?”

Claire looked at him like an afterthought, “hmm?”

When she jumped out of the truck, she noticed a distinct shift inside of her and wondered if she could be pregnant again so soon.

Later in the day, Jason walked the last yearling to the cross ties.

“My leg hurts.”

Claire looked up at who was talking and saw no one. “My leg hurts.” She was getting annoyed at someone playing tricks on her. She investigated the nearby stalls and around corners but found no one. When she turned around her mind filled with an image of her limping in pain with every step. She looked down at her boots taking deep breaths to steady her nerves. When she looked up at the one-year-old colt she felt him cry.

She put her hands on his cheeks, “my sweet boy, what has happened to you?”

She felt the stabbing pain in her own shoulder and pulled out her portable x-ray machine. Jason looked at his watch and suggested they get going so Jamie didn’t have his private parts in a vise.

“Are you referring to your balls Jason?”

Claire laughed at his deep blush. “Ah, yea.”

Claire handed the x-ray to the owner and explained the issue with his limping.

“He has a malformation of the shoulder causing pain when he moves that leg. If he’s to start boot camp this year we must fix it now. Let me know when to schedule the surgery.”

Claire joined Jason walking to the truck when she called to the owner, “who is the sire of that colt?”

“Midnight Runner!”

Claire felt her lungs evacuate and the blood race to her toes. She moved to the truck while a big shaggy dog jumped into the air in front of her.

“Hi! Hi! You want to play? Hi! Here, throw the ball! Watch how high I jump! Throw it! Now is good, throw the ball, throw the ball!”

Jason came around and held her arm into the truck. He was worried about her ghostly pallor. “You alright Claire? What happened back there?”

“Runner’s son just asked me to help him.”

Jason’s head whipped around to stare at her. Suddenly a smile broke across her face and seemed to light up the inside of the truck.

“That colt is our new project Jason and things are gonna get dicey in a couple of months. He won’t want to run because each time in the past the pain has been terrible. Don’t worry, I have a plan.”

Jason’s mouth had dropped open and his head shook slowly side to side.

She continued. “You know Michael is miserable in his faculty position, maybe I should introduce him to the owner. A season on the track might be just what he needs.”

“Claire, Midnight Love starts boot camp this summer, isn’t the colt a conflict of interest?”

“Certainly not. I love them both and will help each of them on the road to the Derby.” Claire got quiet and looked out the window. “If by some miracle they both have a gate position next May, I hope Midnight Love wins. The first filly in history to win the Kentucky Derby.”

Claire looked up at the twin spires of Church Hill Downs and was flooded with memories of racing Runner on this track. She and Jamie were VIP’s with the best table where Claire signed eight by ten glossy photos of she and Runner crossing the finish line of the Kentucky Derby five years ago. They were treated to the best food and whisky all day and a great time was had by both of them. The party atmosphere swept them away.

The loudspeaker announced the parade of competitors was about to begin and Claire stretched her neck to see the track below. Jamie pulled her out of her seat and headed for the exit door. This was too important to be cooped up here in this finery.

They watched the horses being ponied and Claire searched madly for Midnight Love, exhaling a breath when she was found, bringing up the rear, just like her father. They found a place to watch on the rail and Claire thought she might stroke out waiting for the horses to load into the gate. The seconds turned to hours. When the gate slammed open twenty-one horses made a mad dash for the track. Midnight Love was unimpressed with the males crashing into one another but as soon as they were away, she cantered out like it was a ride in the park. She was dead last causing Jamie to jump up and down yelling for her to run!

Michael pushed in between Claire and Jamie with a big smile looking from one to the other and laughing at Jamie having some kind of fit because his horse was in last place.

“What kind of crack-pot trainer are ye Michael, look at her, I expect her to wander into the infield and start pickin daisies for Christ sake.”

“This is your chance of a lifetime sweetheart, it’s time to win,” Claire said to no one in particular. But her eyes were closed so she could mentally tell the filly it was time to fly.

As if a firecracker went off in her butt, Midnight Love burst into a gallop and shot forward like a white bullet and the crowd went wild. She ran up on the outside and overtook the pack with ease setting her sight on the lead horse, her brother. When Love decided it was time to win the race there was little that could stop her. Claire held her breath watching Love extend into each stride with the jockey barely able to hang on. As the two horses barreled down the home stretch Love inched forward just before they crossed the finish line. It was a photo finish and the announcer’s incredulous voice finally told the world Midnight Love was the winner of the one hundred forty-ninth Kentucky Derby, the first filly ever to win the race!

“That’s my girl,” Claire said out loud. She opened her eyes to Jamie and Michael doing a chest bump in pure male glee.

When Jamie looked at his wife, he hugged her tightly. Another Derby win for Highland Brothers Farm. The future could not be brighter.

The End

69 notes · View notes

ashamedofmyfics · 3 years

Text

Reconnecting isn't so bad

Characters: Shinsou Hitoshi x Denki Kaminari

Words: 3,620

Summary:

The group text had been sent, still active from their time at UA and almost everyone had responded that they would be there.

Denki had not been able to put his phone down, he’d screenshotted the chat, panicked, texted Mina and panicked again; amongst all the replied saying “hell yeah” and “awesome, it’ll be great to catch up” was a reply he hadn’t expected to see.

A one-word reply had consumed him for an entire week now

Shinsou Hitoshi: Sure.

Tags: Blowjobs, Drinking, Explicit consent, Top Shinsou, Bottom Denki

Read on ao3

Denki had never thought throughout all his schooling years that his adult life could be even more stressful than his years at UA. He’d spent the last five years interning at an agency before finally getting the invitation to join Ground Zero’s, which he immediately accepted; Bakugou, Kirishima and Denki had always worked well together so Denki thought it only natural that they’d continue their friendship into their twenties. He has been at Bakugou’s agency for two years now and had just celebrated his twenty-fifth birthday which was an event all in its own but it would have nothing on the party he was invited to tonight. Todoroki, although quiet and stoic majority of the time still loved to find ways to piss off his father, his latest method was hosting the most lavish and wild parties for pro heroes which always left a hole in his dad’s wallet and a mess in his penthouse. The party Shoto was throwing tonight was by all standards much quieter than his normal events, it was only open to his graduating class which he hadn’t seen in quite some time, at least not all together as they were all busy at different agencies across the country.

Izuku had been the one to suggest the “get together” as he had called it but Todoroki didn’t do small, this party would be like all his others, an open bar with very expensive alcohol, security and of course safety from paparazzi.

“It would be so fun to see everyone again don’t you think?”

Izuku had practically begged Shoto, eyes tearing up when he’d suggested it, how could he say no? Izuku was his everything, whatever he wanted he would have. The group text had been sent, still active from their time at UA and almost everyone had responded that they would be there.

A one-word reply had consumed him for an entire week now

Shinsou Hitoshi: Sure

That meant Hitoshi was going to the party, Denki would see his high school crush for the first time in six years, He had given up on trying to ‘seduce’ Shinsou when Monoma had asked him out first, the thing that hurt Denki the most was that Hitoshi had said yes and as far as he knew they’d been dating ever since.

Denki had tried to keep in contact but Shinsou was working as an undercover hero, he rarely answered messages or had the time to hang out, either that or he just didn’t want to. Eventually he just let bygones be bygones, stopped messaging knowing he wouldn’t get a reply, he didn’t even know which agency Shinsou was working for, only that his hero name was Brainwash.

His mind the week before the party had been all over the place, Bakugou was yelling at him even more for stupid slip ups he was making and Kirishima kept giving him pitying looks. He couldn’t help it though, he was beyond nervous, what if Shinsou had really thought him to be annoying all those years and had stopped replying to him because he genuinely hated him, they often were paired together in sparing matches at school to improve their close quarters combat training and Denki had thought they’d at least had some fun, even managing to make Shinsou smile on occasion.

All the thoughts Denki was having were absolutely sabotaging him, he even thought it might just be a good idea not to go to the event, that thought had quickly been thrown out the window after the pre drinks with Mina and Sero had started. Mina really was the queen of self-confidence and always seemed to know the right way to bring anyone out of their own brain.

“Look Denki my darling, my lightning bug, everything will be amazing, you’ll go to the party with us, you don’t have to talk to anyone you don’t want to, were gonna dance, drink and grind on each other for a while, we have our escape word if things get bad and your ass looks great in those shorts. You’re gonna be fine I promise, plus its Shoto’s party and we haven’t seen the class in years”

“Yeah you’re right, I guess I’m just stressed because I’m overthinking. You promise you’ll bail me out if I make a fool of myself or anything?”

“I promise! Sero and I will be by your side or super close all night”

“For sure dude, we’ve got your back and maybe your front depending on how the night goes”

Sero gave Denki a wink, he was one of the only people Denki still regularly hooked up with, it was more a bro helping bro let out frustration thing but they’d been doing it for a while and they were definitely comfortable enough with each other. It was easier for Denki to do friends with benefits, dating wasn’t really something he felt he was comfortable doing, especially now that he was a pro hero, the attention was nice sure but dating fans or sleeping with them was one of his hard no’s.

The trio continued their pre drinks knowing full well that the bar would be flowing when they got there, making final adjustments to their outfits, makeup and hair they were finally ready to go, hopping into one of their private cars they crammed into the backseat while the driver took them to their destination.

Todoroki’s penthouse was beautiful, the view was spectacular and all of the furniture was so incredibly comfortable, Denki felt like he could snuggle into it and sleep forever. He took in the partygoers around him, they were all chatting and catching up, some obviously having worked together at the same agencies but for others it had been the first time they’d seen each other since graduation.

Speaking of which Denki was desperately trying to avoid the tall handsome man with purple hair that had made himself comfortable on the balcony, chatting with Izuku, no doubt catching up. Denki sighed as he watched Hitoshi bring his cigarette to his lips, taking a long drag before releasing the smoke into the warm night air. Denki shivered, oh yeah he was definitely not over Hitoshi, his eyes were still sunken and carried his usual bags but he had grown his hair out a bit, wearing it half up in a bun like he’d seen Mic Sensei do in the past.

Denki groaned as he tore his eyes away from the man he knew he could never obtain; he was nowhere near drunk enough to get through tonight. Looking over towards the bar he spots Shoto and Mina chatting and drinking; finally, an escape from his torment, Mina would help take his mind off things and Shoto was never one to ask invasive questions.

Almost reluctantly he got up from his comfortable seat the alcoholic buzz hitting him as he stood up, the slight feeling of dizziness telling him it was probably not the best idea to keep drinking at the rate he was.

‘Screw it’ Denki thought to himself making his way over to his friends. Mina already had a drink to hand him when he got there, taking it and thanking her he took a swig, letting the alcohol hit his tongue, slightly burning on the way down but not an unwelcome feeling.

He’d spent about fifteen minutes talking to his friends and catching up when Todoroki noticed his boyfriend approaching them, giving a small wave Denki looked back to see who he was waving to. Deku was making his way over to them with Shinsou in tow.

Denki felt his blood run cold and the nausea hit hard as his eyes met Hitoshi’s; spinning around a bit too fast he frantically looked to Mina while mouthing the word ‘help’. As Izuku and Shinsou approached Mina put her arm around Denki holding him close to her, and reassuring him he’d be okay. Izuku threw his arms around his boyfriend’s neck and kissed him deeply, Shoto seeming all too happy to return the kiss.

As the two seemed to be wrapped up in each other Shinsou turned to the others to say hi.

As he observed the two Mina was smiling at him while Denki did not look well at all, his head was hidden in Minas shirt and he looked like he might be crying.

“Hey guys, good to see you again”

“Hey Shinsou!” Mina smiled and replied for both of them. “You’re looking well, how have you been?”

“Yeah, good, just work and stuff, y’know …the usual. …Hey is-is Denki okay?”

Denki froze, oh god his voice was so deep, Denki can’t even count how many times he’d fantasised about that voice, feeling genuine tears start to prick at his eyes he gave a small thumbs up as he raised his head to meet Hitoshi’s gaze.

“Hey Shinsou, yeah I’m fine, just feeling a bit nauseous, I think I drank too much”

Denki felt another wave hit him, oh no, maybe the threat of vomiting was an actual threat now; his stomach was doing flips and his head was spinning even more.

“Ummm, I think I need to go to the bathroom. Please excuse me” Denki released himself from Mina’s hold as he looked for the bathroom, honestly he welcomed it at this point, at least he could be alone for a while, try and clear his head a bit.

Denki hated being sick, it was always so unpleasant. Eventually he got a break in his sickness to stop and have a breather, hearing a knock on the bathroom door he managed in a soft voice

“Hey sorry dude kinda occupied in here”

“Denki …its Hitoshi, I thought you might need some water and asprin?”

Denki felt the blush on his face grow as he realised Shinsou had been the one to come check on him, why now? Why him? Denki could only imagine he looked like a mess, against his better judgement he reached up to unlock the door.

When Denki opened the door he saw Hitoshi standing above him staring wide eyed at the scene in front of him. Denki could only imagine how bad he looked right now, red eyes and messed up makeup from crying, hair tied back as best he could, shirt askew exposing his shoulder, slumped over the bowl with apparently every last once of dignity literally flushed away.

Hitoshi sat down beside Denki, ripping some toilet paper and wiping his face clean; the act was gentle and far too domestic for Denki’s liking, another wave hit him as he returned his face to the toilet.

Once he had finished Shinsou patiently returned to helping Denki tidy himself up, offering him the pain killers and water.

“Here, open up” Shinsou whispered as he held up the tablet to Denki’s mouth

Too stunned to talk Denki could only hold eye contact as he obeyed and opened his mouth for Hitoshi, gently placing the tablet on His tongue before offering the water.

After swallowing they sat in silence for a while before Denki spoke

“Thanks Shinsou, I really appreciate it, Sorry I’m such a mess tonight…and like..in general y’know heh”

“You’re completely fine Denki, you’re beautiful, just like always”

Denki’s head snapped up so fast, he thought his brain had gone static again, starring dumbly at Shinsou trying to figure out if he’d actually said what he thought he’d said.

“What?”

“…I’m sorry, I just, I don’t know why I said that” Hitoshi felt the blush on his cheeks rise as he realised he’d just confessed to his long time crush

“You really are beautiful though, I’ve thought so since high school, I guess just seeing you tonight made me realise I still like you, I’m really sorry I don’t even know if you’re single or not and I really shouldn’t be confessing to you in a bathroom when you’ve just been sick and don’t really have the option to-“

“Hitoshi.”

Shinsou stopped his rambling, looking into Denki’s golden eyes, expecting to see rejection but instead Denki was smiling and looked like he was trying to hold back tears.

“I-I like you too Shinsou, but…but I thought you were with Monoma?”

“Nah we split pretty soon after graduation, just didn’t work out, and I could never really get over you”

“Oh” Denki’s tears began to flow freely as Hitoshi pulled him into his chest.

“You wanna go home? I can drive you, I’m sober”

“Yeah, that would be really nice please”.

Denki did his best to clean himself up before heading out with Shinsou, explaining to Mina that He was going to take Denki home she gave him a small wink and smile.

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

Walking Denki inside Shinsou took in the apartment, it was modest enough and fairly clean, pictures of Denki and his pro hero friends and team were strewn about the place.

“Hey I think I just wanna have a quick shower, do you wanna have a cup of tea? Or if you need to get going that’s fine too?”

“I would love a tea Denki; you go shower I’ll put the kettle on”

“Cups are in this cupboard, tea selection is in the pantry” Denki pointed before heading to grab some fresh clean clothes for his shower.

Feeling clean and sobered up from his shower and tea Denki and Shinsou spent the next couple of hours talking about themselves, catching up and confessing to each other about their mutual crushes while laughing about it.

“I should probably go; let you sleep” Hitoshi said looking at his now empty cup

“..You could stay if you want?” it came out more as a question on Denki’s part

It was so fast Denki almost didn’t register it was happening, Shinsou had kissed him, deep, gently wrapping Denki’s arms around his neck and lifting his legs around his waist; breaking the kiss only to ask which way the bedroom was.

Eventually they made it to the comfort of the bed neither boy willing to let the other go as they entangled themselves together, only breaking the kiss occasionally to breathe, Shinsou took one of those opportunities to move his mouth to Denki’s neck licking a stripe before attaching his mouth to suck a dark purple bruise on porcelain skin.

Denki’s moan was so guttural he couldn’t silence himself even if he tried, it had been a while since he’d been with someone but oh god he felt so good just being with Hitoshi.

Shinsou moved his hands down the blonde’s body, under his shirt to gently tease and play with his nipples; Denki’s breath hitched in his throat as he let out a silent scream, oh god Hitoshi was talented.

“T-Toshi ..please ahh-I can’t oh yes hnng”

Shinsou ground his hips against the smaller boy’s beneath him, feeling his member stiff in his pants, the friction felt delicious. Breaking the kiss, Hitoshi caught his breath as he observed Denki beneath him, trying to do the same.

“Hey, I just wanted to be clear what you’re okay with tonight?”

A sudden panic struck Denki, he wasn’t sure he was ready for full penetration tonight, prepping generally took him a while; Shinsou must have noticed the worry in his eyes leaning down to kiss him gently.

“Hey, it’s okay, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, I’m just happy being here with you”

“I’m sorry Toshi, ummm maybe we could just make out and dry hump? If you’re cool with that?”

“what about a blow job?”

“Oh” Deni’s blush reached the tips of his ears “Yeah I can give you a blow job if you want”

Shinsou’s laugh was low and quiet “I meant me give you one” a sly smile on his lips as he glanced down at him; suddenly Denki felt very small beneath the taller man.

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, Denki I want to make you feel amazing, show you how much I’ve wanted you, how much I need you”

in between each breath Shinsou kept peppering gentle kisses to Kaminari’s lips, neck and chest looking up into his eyes awaiting consent to move lower. The answer he got was almost a whisper

“please”

“Keep your eyes on me okay kitten?”

moaning deeply Denki felt his cock twitch at the pet name, his blush increasing and spreading to his neck and chest.

Shinsou noticed the effect that seemed to have on the man beneath him, moving to cup Denki’s growing erection and gently began to rub him to full hardness.

“Did that make you feel good? You want me to keep calling you my kitten?”

“Yes! Toshi please! I’ll be good I’ll be so good I promise please keep going”

A dark chuckle built in Hitoshi’s chest looking up to meet Denki’s beautiful golden eyes again

“Of course Kitten, you’re being so good for me, so well behaved, how about I give you a special treat for being so patient hmm?”

Denki threw his head back at the praise as Shinsou slipped two fingers into the waistband of his pants gently sliding them down, Denki lifting his hips to help him. Once his pants were off Denki realised how exposed he now felt, his shirt was still hitched up exposing his tummy and his cock was straining against his boxers. Shinsou seemed to notice Denki’s change in demeanour and removed his own shirt.

Hitoshi’s body was stunning, he’d beefed up so much in the last seven years, his muscles so well defined and his abs looked like they were chiselled from marble.

“Careful kitty, you’re drooling” Shinsou chuckled as Denki Realised he’d been staring wide eyed and open mouthed for a bit too long.

Crawling in between the smaller man’s thighs Shinsou allowed himself to start working on Denki’s cock, gently kissing along the shaft through his underwear and lightly fondling his balls. Denki let out a silent scream as he began to leak precum, staining his boxers and leaving a gorgeous wet patch just above where Hitoshi was kissing.

Looking up at the blonde Shinsou smirked, Denki looked utterly wrecked and he’d hardly done anything to him yet.

“You ready kitten?”

Denki just nodded and let out a weak “please”

Focusing his attention back on the task at hand Shinsou carefully began to remove Denki’s boxers, freeing his cock to the chill of the air, it twitched at the sensation before Denki gave a full body shudder as Hitoshi moved in to release his warm breath along his shaft.

Purple eyes met gold as Hitoshi wet his lips before placing a final kiss to Denki’s head as he gently, inch by inch, took him completely into his throat.

Hitoshi set a gruellingly slow pace, bringing Denki to the edge only to deny him his release. After teasing the blonde for a solid half hour he looked about ready to cry; Shinsou gently released his dick with a quiet pop.

“you ready to come kitty?”

“YES! Toshi please oh god I need to come PLEASE!”

“Alright kitten, I want you to come down my throat okay?”

“What!? Toshi are you sure? I don’t think-”

“Of course I’m sure, I can’t wait to taste you deep in my throat”

With those words Denki was completely lost again, Shinsou taking him in his mouth once more and increasing both speed and pressure. Denki could feel his orgasm building, just a little more, he was so desperate to go over the edge.

Shinsou could feel Denki’s cock hit the back of his throat again and again as he bobbed his head, desperate to pleasure him, needing to show him just how much he meant to him; Feeling Denki’s hands find purchase in his hair, tugging but not pulling too hard he felt his hips begin to stutter, a sign Denki was close to finish.

With a few more thrusts Denki was moaning as he released into Hitoshi’s mouth, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this strong an orgasm, thighs tensing and trembling, eyes rolling back as the last spurts hit Hitoshi’s tongue.

Breathing heavily Denki released Shinsou’s hair, swallowing the last of the come Hitoshi moved to lay next to him, pulling him in close to his chest and tangling their legs together.

“Did you enjoy that?” Denki’s voice still small and wrecked from his orgasm

“You have no idea” Hitoshi chuckled, kissing Denki on the forehead.

Denki angled his chin up so he could give Shinsou a proper kiss, gently sliding his tongue into the others mouth before pulling away.

“Oh my god I taste gross I am so sorry Toshi!” Denki panicked eyes met Hitoshi’s as he began to laugh

“I think you taste delicious, just like whipped cream” Shinsou held Denki closer as his laughs rumbled through his chest “Although maybe I should steal some toothpaste, do you have a spare toothbrush I could steal?”

“Yeah of course I do, in the first draw beneath the sink in the bathroom”.

When Shinsou returned Denki had cleaned up and put fresh pyjamas on, Shinsou being the furnace he was just opted to sleep in his briefs, snuggling under the covers and once again pulling Denki to his chest. It was the most comfortable either of them had felt in a very long time, they would be able to talk things out in the morning but for now they were both content in each other’s arms.

#shinsou hitoshi #denki kaminari #shinkami #bnha #mha #my hero academia

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corinthbayrpg · 3 years

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NAME. Camille Delacroix AGE & BIRTH DATE. 31 & June 11, 1989 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Witch ( Earth + Invisibility ) OCCUPATION. Newspaper Editor FACE CLAIM. Dakota Johnson

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: drugs ) The Delacroix name was, to put it lightly, a standard for both old money and old magic in Chicago. With talent and reputation came a particular image to uphold: the quintessential family unit who embraced that legacy and never tarred it with their own indiscretions. Perfect. Pristine. Pretend. If one were bold enough to strip back the curtains, to open closets in search of skeletons, far more than antiques and shallow conversation could be found.

Andrew and Annette came together as a reasonable match set by their parents, married with a swiftness while the union was proudly displayed for all in their elite circle to appreciate. This was the height of elegance, this was what it meant to be proper. Of course, their marriage itself could be labeled little more than a ruse, deeply unhappy and rife with undercurrents of conflict only witnessed by their house staff. Children would be a gift to mend all they said, particularly any who were magically inclined from a young age and Camille’s life came into existence as a result of that ambition.

Eldest daughters bear a weight not often seen, but unquestionably felt. They become the carrier of secrets, the one burdened with all of their family’s demons in an effort to glue everyone back together. She looks just like her mother, the masses would say and they were right, but Camille never desired to walk in the matriarch’s shoes. Trapped in a loveless marriage to a man who spent more time yearning over his business partners than the Stepford wife waiting for him at home, Annette turned to mind games and manipulation rather early on. She attempted to mold her first born in this same artistry, but it never took. Camille was far too passive and unbothered for such effort, preferring to take on her mother’s flighty aloofness instead.

She was only four years into her childhood when Lucian arrived and the world around the Delacroix family shifted permanently. Even their youngest sister’s birth shortly thereafter was tallied as completing the picturesque brood, but the son–– the first and only son, Annette doted upon him as if he hung the moon and stars. Despite not wishing to become their mother, Camille discovered the seedlings of jealousy being implanted that she was less worthy of affection solely because of Lucian’s presence. She knew the family ghosts by now. Saw things, heard things. Yet the child who started fights at school purely for attention was preferred over the one who came first and kept her mouth shut about it all.

It wouldn’t be fair to blame Lucian for the spotlight he craved, in fact Camille might have claimed that she attempted everything in her power to avoid the very same. While she may not have been Annette, lies were familiar and the eldest child still managed to seek out recognition in more subtle ways. She became a perfectionist at school, highest marks in her class and capable of writing essays in her sleep. Words poured out of her pen and filled stacks of journals; their home library grew tenfold. As she transitioned from uncertain pre-teen into an adolescent with quiet confidence, Camille also learned that her penchant for invisibility could be utilized to not only disappear into her world of storytelling, but also from her home.

Literature became the common thread between the young witch and Lucian, from there a mutual understanding and even affection grew. Where his abilities lied in fire and passionate destruction, Camille was the steady hand which supported and repaired all that he broke. Salvaging rose bushes before Annette, or worse the gardener, noticed, quickly turned into a game between the siblings. Even if the constant social events hosted by their mother were tiring, at least the Delacroix children could discover solace in one another when the black ties were discarded for pajamas. Happiness in a world so superficial was fleeting at best, but their family discovered a sort of peace in this time.

Eventually Camille found herself shipped off to Cornell, a rather prestigious school for someone only intrigued by the study of comparative literature, but a generous scholarship and her parents’ expectations left little other choice. It was here that she first discovered pathways beyond what had been implied by Annette: you don’t have to love your husband, you only have to marry him. But what if she never married a man at all? Stunning, intelligent, enigmatic women were everywhere in New York and if the desire to not fall victim to her mother’s life had been strong before, the east coast nearly solidified it.

Not long after graduation did things begin to turn troublesome at home, rumors swirled about Lucian’s involvement with drug dealers and dangerous supernaturals. That he’d developed an addiction to more than substances and the golden child denied all until a harrowing incident occurred involving their father’s study catching fire by his inebriated hand. Their greatest family lie and her own resentment rose to the surface when Camille watched as her parents shipped Lucian off not once, but twice. Rehab and then a sort of well-funded banishment, and there she was again picking up the pieces left in his wake. It was less endearing this time around.

Forgiveness did not come with ease and blossomed slowly, Lucian rebuilt her trust as they both attempted to restart in New York. Camille took up an editorial job at The Times rather than being a columnist as desired, but truly could only pour her heart into it for the first couple of years until the inklings of repressed trauma began to reveal themselves. At some point she lost herself in the motions of it, exhausted by her own mind and yet attempting to maintain some semblance of stability because the alternative meant admitting that she aced school while failing at the construction of her own life. Somehow that irony is hilarious to only Camille and not her therapist.

Even Lucian ventured elsewhere to move on and while she heavily encouraged his growth, not having anything to fix started to feel like idle hands. Cigarettes and weed could only hold her attention for so long and thus she opted to keep long distance tabs on her brother instead. Even after all of this time and no longer worrying about preserving their family’s image, she still cannot undo the ingrained burden of maintaining his life. Worrying after his ongoings is a button that she refuses to uninstall, no matter how much Camille might deny its existence.

Which would also be difficult to claim after her plane touched down in Corinth Bay. Call it a sister’s intuition, but a lack of response from Lucian to her recent emails had been enough to prompt familiar concern over his self-destructive tendencies. She can only hope to have made it in time to sort out whatever recklessness the witch has done… Or worse, is planning.

PERSONALITY

+ facetious, easygoing, perfectionist - irresponsible, detached, avoidant

PLAYED BY MARTY. PST. She/Her.

#marty

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tristancreed · 4 years

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My Relationship With Tattoos

Art as we know it comes in any medium. It could be a portrait, a scuplture, a dish, a film or even a fighting style. The canvas and the medium may change, but one thing remains constant. It represents something. One's feelings, identity, code, maybe even culture. Tattoos are not far from this. They are pieces of art etched on a living canvas. Just like any piece of art can be viewed differently by the artist, the wearer as well as the mere spectator. The same perception could also be rooted from a personal interpretation/bias, cultural influence, and etc.

The Philippines, while still attempting to develop have yet to change its view on tattooing. To some, it is in fact seen at an artistic light whereas most view them with negative connotations. Some even view tattooed individuals as nothing but bottom dwellers, drug addicts, criminals, anything synonymous with the word undesirable. We even have a senator that says exactly these words about tattooed individuals, as do most conservative folks. Which is ironic considering that tattoos once played a significant role in the pre-colonial history. It often dsiplayed one's role, accomplishments, clan, and even social status. One of our most well-reputed national artists happen to be Whang-Od. To the uninitiated, she is currently the last living traditional tattoo artist around these parts. She is well sought out by visitors both domestic and foreign. In all sincerity, I'd like to see that senator try and publicly call her a drug addict to her face. Like I said, The Philippines has yet to be anywhere near ready to adapt to a modern society. And with it, more progressive views.

(Image is courtesy of La Blouse Roumaine ©)

I for one had a neutral stance on them. I should know, I have four of them and have gone through five sessions all in all. But before that, I remember wanting to get one as far as when I was in college and even intending to get two particular pieces. One being WWE Superstar Edge's Rise Above wrist piece and Toryn Green's sinner and saint ambigram. This what happens when you grow up being a fan of hard rock music, professional wrestling and mixed martial arts. Although what kept me from getting tattooed was the fear of being an ineligible blood donor, as well as the fear of being unemployable in the future.

That however changed after I graduated. Turns out, most corporate environments won't even bat an eye at an upper management figure sporting full sleeves and stretched earlobes. Others may not be as lenient. But it hardly impacted how they're received in the company. I even had a chance to get a session done in 2013 but it kept falling apart.

It didn't cross my mind until 2017 and that's that I finally decided to go for it. I remembered seeing a simple but perfectly symmetrical geometric arrow design. The design was perfect. I also happen to love archery. So I literally had no other issue with it. I later ended up getting referred by my cousin to her artist who did her wrist piece months prior. The three weeks leading up to that session, I let my folks know in advance that I am getting a tattoo. I didn't wait for their approval or anything. I made it clear that I’m getting inked. Furthermore, I’d like to point out that I am a regular subscriber to Aaron Marino’s YouTube Channel (you may know him as Alpha M). I then took some crucial tips regarding tattoos. I had the certainty down as long as I follow one crucial tip. You have a whole sea of skin all over you. So out of all that, just avoid having one on your hands, neck, and face. If you can hide it with a dress shirt, it’s completely fine.

On the day of my appointment, I literally just slapped on a sleeveless Avenged Sevenfold cut-off top, some shorts, with only my phone and wallet in hand before heading out for my session. It happened in a small studio just next to a small school in Pacita. Fortunately, I got there in time and I happened to be his only scheduled client for the day. What happened next was pivotal. I literally watched as the needle first touched my skin and slowly covered my birthmark. The session itself took over five hours. And what turned out to be the final product was an entirely different design. One which was inspired by the concept I sent, but also deviated from it. My parents despite having already been warned in advance were still initially shocked by it. They didn’t think I was actually going ahead with it. So this is the part where I retroactively followed what Jaiden Dittfach (of Jaiden Animations) said when she got her bird Ari. If you want really want something and your parents said no, get it anyway and trick them into loving it. Now that it’s on my skin, there really wasn’t much they could do about it. But at least they know its meaning and that it isn’t anything negative. I did have some issues with the product though and it took three more years before I finally got it fixed. For good this time. At least before the pandemic happened and it was done by a trusted friend. In her defense, she made the best of what she could work with then and even remarked how deep the first needle went. Fortunately, she managed to even out some places that needed to be polished.

The intended design (Image is courtesy of The Style Up ©)

The (first) finished product.

Finally fixed.

In between all of this, I also managed to get three more pieces. It was November 12, 2018, a news shocked Marvel fans the world over. Stan Lee tragically passed away just six weeks shy of what would have been his 96th birthday. It was such a devastating loss of a figure who helped mold the childhoods of many. I wrote about it and posted it here shortly after. During those events, I remembered having come across the Wakandan alphabet before it hit me. But first, I had to consult a few friends in order to make sure that I wouldn’t be committing any act of cultural appropriation. After finally clearing that up, I sent my own design to a friend of mine (Who went on to do all of my ink from that point on) and booked the session. Thanksgiving day later came and I realized that we had no work that day. So I later called her up to see if she was free. Fortunately, she was and I finally had it etched on my right forearm. It was the Latin word “Excelsior” that literally translates to ever upward. It was also Stan’s catchphrase. The feeling of getting that piece was a lot more different than the previous one. This came with a wave of emotion. Because the significance could even be traced from my childhood and I grew up around this fandom and it meant more to me than just entertainment. It helped shape part of my identity. It’s literally the one piece I wish I could have flashed on a camera next to Stan himself. One thing’s for sure both Stan Lee and Chadwick Boseman would have thought it was a wise choice for a piece of ink on one’s skin.

“Excelsior”

- Stan Lee

Upon having gone through a tattoo session, you can only describe the feel of a needle as a sting. But you wouldn’t exactly call it pain. That isn’t an opinion, that is a fact. Another thing one must know upon getting a tattoo is that you will later want additional pieces. Your skin will want the feel of that needle again. And while my parents said that would be my last piece, I simply couldn’t promise that. This time around, I’ve been looking to get a Cthulhu tattoo since December 2018. Of course, being busy as always, I couldn’t find a time to arrange it. I would only do so once I’m sure I’m completely free for that day. I live two lives. Both as a corporate guy and a public figure. Spare time and sleep are luxuries I can’t always afford. And after all the planning, I finally booked it. I literally went to my friend’s place right away to have it done. The session was of reasonable length and it felt different. Both of my previous tattoos were done on my right forearm. Both of which had uplifting personal meanings. A darker piece like that would be completely out of place in that part of my body. So I opted for my left bicep. It was surreal. I’m a man invested into multiple fandoms and H.P. Lovecraft’s universe is definitely in that list. There’s just something about the occult and the unknown horrors of the cosmos that piqued my interest since my formative years. This was me finally marking that on my skin. If there’s one of Lovecraft’s most iconic creations that deserved that spot, it was the famed Dreamer of R’lyeh himself. If the excelsior tattoo gave a rush of innocence that I hadn’t felt in ages, this was different. It had that enigmatic aura around it which made it all the more perfect. The piece came together so well and it was on an arm that a needle had yet to kiss. After the session, you could say I probably found out how the Sam Raimi Peter Parker felt when he first put on the black symbiote suit. Minus the dance when he exited that tailor shop. I also ended up getting a freehand bonus on my right wrist again. Just something Roxy threw in. It was the Latin phrase “Sic Parvis Magna.” which literally translates to “Thus great things come from small things.” or better yet, greatness from small beginnings. Which is another phrase I hold dear considering my humble origins.

“Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn”

“In his house at R’lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.”

“Thus great things come from small things.”

That certainly wouldn’t be the end of it. Again, while my folks insisted that I got my last pieces, I still can’t promise that. One thing’s for sure, I wouldn’t get any piece that either stands for something that abridges the rights of another human being, nor would any of my upcoming pieces ever wrongly appropriate a culture. Ultimately, I would always advise everyone to at least take Aaron Marino’s advise to heart. Don’t get one that you wouldn’t want to show your folks. You also have a whole sea of skin around you, so avoid having one on your hands, neck and face. I’m definitely not done stepping next to a needle. I still have plans on some pieces. But I always see to their significance. It’s always wise to do exactly that. Getting a tattoo isn’t a joke. It’s a commitment. One that can even outlive a marriage. So it pays to take every choice into consideration. Some of us choose to wear our hearts on our sleeve and some do so literally.

#tattoos #tattoostories #excelsior #cthulhu #lovecraft #inkedlife

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crimsonblackrose · 4 years

Text

I’m officially reunited with about 90% of my things. It’s weird. Very very weird but I feel like there’s some stable ground beneath my feet. It just feels nice to not be living out of a suitcase that’s mostly business professional clothing and be reunited with comfy college t-shirts. I’ve gone through all of my stuff, mostly organized it, and set up a bookcase. As a lifelong bookworm and someone who went to college for writing, I have a lot of books. And I haven’t read all of those books. So I decided books I haven’t read or don’t remember reading will go on the bookcase. The rest will stay in their boxes.

My plan when I was expecting to come home pre-pandemic was to frequent the library but try and focus on the books I haven’t read yet that I own. I figured if there were things I desperately wanted to read that I couldn’t get at the library I’d get it for my e-reader or maybe at the store after getting a job. But then the pandemic happened and our library has only recently opened so e-reader and my TBR bookcase should get me through for a while. (Plus I can always grab something off of my aunt or uncle’s bookshelves if I need to branch out. They’ve already given me recommendations.)

The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri by Dante Alighieri. This book is too big to fit on the shelves so it’s chilling at the top with my Korean Count of Monte Cristo musical book. This is one of my Dad’s books that he gave me when he moved. I’m sure I missed more that are in a box in the basement. I organized but I have lot of books so I know I missed things.f

So buckle up here’s all the books on my bookcase in no particular order. Shelf #!.

The Earthsea Trilogy by Ursula K. Le Guin Ursula K. Le Guin is a staple author for fantasy and I thought for sure I’d read this but I wasn’t 100% sure so I grabbed it anyway.

Monsterkind by Taylor C. I kickstarted this a long time ago and it’s one of the things in my boxes that I didn’t realize I had because I’m pretty sure it arrived while I was in Korea. I’ve sadly missed the cut off for book two but am pretty excited to jump into this.

This Dark Endeavor by Kenneth Oppel. I don’t know when or where I got it but looking at the tag line I can see why I found it intriguing “The Apprenticeship of Victor Frankenstein” sounds fun.

And Another thing… Douglas Adams Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Part six of Three by Eoin Colfer. Fun fact when I was in elementary through high school I read everything Eoin Colfer I could get my hands on and I loved The Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy and everything I’ve read by Douglas Adams so this was a no brainer. Though I haven’t read it because I guess I don’t know what it is.Aa sequel? A prequel? Something in between? No idea, it’ll be a fun adventure.

What You Don’t Know About Men by Michael Burke. This is one of those books where I’m just staring at it wondering where it came from and why I have it. It is signed and after deep diving my own Instagram it’s a book from college. But whether I met the author at an event, something I was volunteering for or at school is beyond me.

Gramarye City by Paul Revere Lester. This is another signed book, but I’m pretty sure it’s self published since there was nothing about it on Goodreads. Could be wrong. But this one I don’t know if it’s from high school writer’s club or what since it, like the last one references my own writing and cheers me on in the note with the signing.

Fiery Dark Secret by Emma Bown Meyer this one is also signed but doesn’t reference my own writing or any sort of cheering me on so who knows. I’m going to assume this is from a library event where the authors came and signed their books from when I was in high school.

Hush Girls by Emily Hansen. Another signed book. You could guess that I don’t read books I get signed but in this case this came out this year and it’s one of the few books I’ve recently purchased. Emily Hansen was one of my cohorts and I try my best to support my cohorts.

Lost in the City by Edward P. Jones, did I get this book because it was recommended reading in college or because it looks cool or was it gifted to me? No clue.

Zombies vs Unicorns. This is a collection of short stories about Zombies versus Unicorns. So each author picked a team and wrote a story to try and grab the reader to their side and some of my favorite authors are in this collection and it’s just super cool looking so I’m greatly looking forward to reading it.

Holidays on Ice by David Sedaris, oh this book hasn’t been read out of pure spite. My department in college had this thing where we had to go and attend “literary” events and then write about them as part of our grade. The problem being there were plenty of literary events for people over the age of 21. So many readings and events that our teachers recommended did not work for those of us under the age of 21 who weren’t allowed in the bars. For one of these my friend said that a famous author had an event at Borders (RIP) on the other end of the city from where we lived. So a small group of us went all the way out to that Borders realized we weren’t early enough to sit in on the discussion which was then sold out and our best and final bet was to get a number for the book signing. So we did that and got dinner nearby. My friends had books but I had nothing to get signed. This book was one of the few ones out and on sale so I bought it and then spent the many hours left waiting in that line reading manga.

Here’s the thing. Kudos to David Sedaris’s work ethic. He’s one of those authors who will stay until everyone in line goes through as long as the place is willing to stay open. Which is super cool. But for me, a college kid who was utterly exhausted and had never even heard of the author before, showed up at 3am after waiting in line for ages to learn Mr. Sedaris either requests a joke or gives you a joke when he meets you. I really really just wanted to get the book signed so I could go back to my dorm and sleep and then write up my journal entry for class. I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. And my humor isn’t really okay with cancer jokes at any time let alone 3am. So I haven’t read this book. It’s been on my shelves for ages, moved from dorm room to dorm room to boxes and forgotten. But it’s signed. And even though I’m still very bitter I’m willing to give it a shot. But I don’t have high hopes.

Listen to the Echos, The Ray Bradbury Interviews by Sam Weller, to continue with the books I’m bitter about and have been putting off reading. This book is also signed and the signing is the part that I’m a little bitter about. Again backstory time. So there’s two things you should know. One is that my school would host some pretty cool events from time to time with dinners and what not with authors or other people in the arts and one of my best college friends and her family went to this school fancy dinner at, I believe, the school’s President’s home and they very sweetly got me this book. What kills me on the inside is the signing.

Lauren!

A gift from the —– family!

Live Forever!

Sam Weller

Now you might be like well it is a gift, right? True. But the kicker. The painful kicker was that Sam Weller was my teacher. I was in his Ray Bradbury class at the time this was signed. I spent an entire semester learning about what made Ray Bradbury who he was and how his short stories and works created a ripple effect that gave us so many beloved movies, stories and idioms we have today. I loved that class. I planned to get this book myself and get it signed because I enjoyed it and the teacher so much. And this is the equivalent of getting “Have a great summer” in your yearbook. Now to be real, he probably didn’t put two and two together and at some point, I could’ve tried to get it re-signed but I didn’t. I should’ve, I wish I did. Because I remember laughing about it and taking the book to class but I chickened out. I think, in all honesty, it has to do with teachers who make huge impacts on you and then forgetting who you are when you’re not in class with them. My college departmental advisor just completely forgot who I was when I went to visit after graduating. I get it. I do, but it sure does sting.

Breverton’s Nautical Curiosities by Terry Breverton which is a delightful book about nautical things, another passion of mine from growing up. I’ve never sat down and read it but I’ve flipped through it many a time.

Feeding Hannibal a Connoisseur’s Cookbook by Janice Poon. I loved this TV show and I’m forever in awe of Janice Poon and how she made the food look appetizing but also vaguely human (gross, very gross) while also edible for the cast. I bought this in Korea at the Seoul Comic Con and brought it home.

Healing Herbal Teas: A Complete Guid to Making Delicious, Healthful Beverages by Brigitte Mars, A.H.G. I don’t know if you know this but I love tea. I’m warming up to coffee in the same way I am to booze, as long as I don’t taste it we’re good. But with tea I’m obsessed. This was a gift. I haven’t set about reading it but I am curious about it.

Onto shelf #2

East of Eden by John Steinbeck. I’m not sure if other majors have this but my department while I was there was pretty obsessed with this book. Not teacher’s necessarily but my cohorts talked about it a lot and said they loved it or talked about how it shaped them. So I bought it. Don’t know why since one of the go-to books that drew a lot of students to our school and department because the teacher worked there creeped me out but hey, willing to give this massive book a try.

The Revenge of the Shadow King by Derek Benz and J.S. Lewis. This is a book that’s been on my shelf a long time. Probably since around when it came out in 2005 that I just kept putting off reading even though I knew I wanted to read it. I’m a sucker for fantasy novels with fey or even a twisty dark vibe to them.

Eyes Like Stars by Lisa Mantchev. I’m going to be honest, bought this book because of the cover. It was a pretty art style with faeries of some kind.

The Magicina of Hoad by Margaret Mahy, for a paperback this book is super shiny. Not sure if that’s why I got it or because anything genre tended to grab my attention in high school.

Timeline by Michael Crichton. In my first year of college, my group of friends and I had a secret Santa and the person who had me didn’t have a clue what to get me except books. So he decided to do one of my favorite things ever which was to get me some books that were his favorites. This is one of them that I hadn’t gotten around to reading yet.

Procession of the Dead by Darren Shan. I’ve been saving this one. I spent most of high school and college devouring any nightmarish adventure Darren Shan concocted. The Thin Executioner is still one of my favorites despite being so ghastly. This one though I remember spotting at the store and going “how dare no one tell me he’d come out with a new book?” And grabbing it. However after living overseas so long I’m sure I’m behind on a lot of books and authors I used to keep up to date on before.

The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel: The Sorceress, The Necromancer and the Magician by Michael Scott. You may remember I’ve read the first in this series and did not enjoy it. But I heard from some other readers that the series gets better and since I have these three books as hard backs which aren’t cheap I’m determined to read them and give them a shot before…probably donating them.

Lost in Space by Ben Tanser. My college hosted a literary event every year while I was there called Story Week. They invited authors and publishers and agents to celebrate books and share what they knew and it was free. As a person who volunteered for it several times it means I’m not sure if I bought all the books I own or if I just got some of the books and this is one of them. I know the publisher was big with our school, our teachers and faculty loved Curbside Splendor, but again I don’t know. This isn’t signed so I think it’s a case of I got it to better understand the publisher and then didn’t get around to reading it because I had big paper’s due like every other day and required reading as well as job and club responsibilities. How I got any fun reading done is beyond me.

The Old Neighborhood by Bill Hillmann is one that I’m kind of embarrassed I didn’t read before now. It’s signed and the author came to class to talk to us about his work because he was good friends with our teacher. He seemed pretty cool and still does. He usually does the Running of the Bulls in Spain and actually got pretty injured one year and made international news.

Where’d you go, Bernadette by Maria Semple. I got this book for free as part of “World Book Night U.S. April 23, 2014” which is pretty cool but I did not read it when I think I was supposed to. Nearly over 6 years late on that one. Sorry World Book Night.

The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. I don’t know about this one. Did I get it because movies were being adapted of Ayn Rand’s work? Did I get it because people were talking about it? Did I get it just out of curiosity because her work is so polarising and pretty much as hated as Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey were within my cohort? Was it on a list of books to read? Not a clue. I’ve read Atlas Shrugged since and looking at the size of this book it’s going to be a long journey of tiny print.

The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett. My local public library when I was growing up would participate in a book event where they’d pick a book and then everyone could sign up for that book and they’d host events related to it. Like a big massive book club. Chicago did it too with Neverwhere and many others. I signed up, got the book and then…didn’t read it.

The Princess and the Pirates: The Timelight Stone by Mio Chizuru. This book is a library book. A high school library book that they stamped with rejected and removed all the stuff on it. I assume I got this from a book sale of our library getting rid of books or the librarian just told me she was getting rid of books and since I was working there during my free periods repairing books. The bonus I guess of being a constant presence. It looks like manga but it’s actually a novel, so it’ll be interesting.

Emerald Death by Bill Craig I’m not 100% certain but I’m pretty sure this was from my childhood public library again. It’s signed and I think it was from one of the author events.

The Best of Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet this is like Lost in Space. I bought this so I could better understand the publication because my genre teachers were full of praise for Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet and honestly loved the style. But got too busy to read it. I’m sure I have another collection or two for a different publisher in my boxes somewhere but that can wait. I’ve never really been one to read anthologies or collections of short stories so these types of books usually fall a bit on my TBR list. But I should read them.

Push and The Kid by Sapphire. Both of these are signed and were from a literary event while I was in college through the Harold Washington Library. I think I attended an interview at the library where she discussed her work. From what I remember I know these books aren’t going to be the happiest so I am pretty sure that’s why I’ve set them aside.

The final shelf time.

The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer. I borrowed this book in high school from my dad because we were supposed to read it in English and then…never did. I don’t know why. We probably we got too busy in the other books we were supposed to read that we also never finished. Like Julius Ceaser by Shakespeare that we just stopped reading after he died. So, thank you, Dad, for letting me keep it along with all the others.

The Three Theban Plays by Sophocles, this book is pretty beaten up but I always grab classics even if 70% of the time I hate them. This was probably for a class, quite possibly the most frustrating class I ever took, or I found it cheap somewhere.

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo I picked this up in Paris. Pretty sure I read some copy of this in high school in French and I’ve seen the musical in Korean and the movie version as well as the old film of the musical my French teacher had…but we’ll see how I remember it as I go with the translated English.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame by Victor Hugo. I also got this in Paris. I’ve never read it but after learning about how it single handedly saved Notre Dame I feel like I have to.

Redwall: The Rogue Crew by Brian Jacques. This is the last book Brain Jacques wrote that was published posthumously. I loved Redwall so much and I’m pretty sure I’ve read almost every novel Brian Jacques wrote. When he died I was heartbroken and I got the book but just couldn’t bring myself to read it.

Artemis Fowl the Atlantis Complex by Eoin Colfer, I loved the Artemis Fowl series when I was younger and I really want to jump into this book which is book 7 in the series but I think I’m going to have to go back through my boxes and find the rest of them before reading book seven. It’s been waaaayyyy too long.

The Faeman Quest by Herbie Brennan is another series I absolutely adored when I was younger. Again it’s another where it’s been so long I’ll probably have to re-read the previous books in The Faerie Wars Chronicles to fully understand what’s going on here.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman. Up to this point I was fairly good at reading all of Neil Gaiman’s works. And attending any event he had in Chicago. This one I remember going to with a bunch of friends at the Music Box theater and then staying up late with them to get it signed. It was a fun event but I was saving it to read later since it’s a small book.

Silas Marner by George Eliot not sure where this one came from but I haven’t read it so here it is. I recognize the title though but don’t know why.

A Confusion of Princes by Garth Nix. I love books by Garth Nix he’s one of those authors in Zombies vs Unicorns but I haven’t gotten around to reading this one or even finishing the series of his I started and loved when I was younger. (I don’t like things to end)

Swords of Riverside by Ellen Kushner. This has harlequin romance vibes from the cover but also older fantasy/historical novel vibes. Don’t know where I got it or why but it’ll be interesting for sure. Very curious to see which it falls into or if just the long hair blown back by invisible wind on the male character was just for fun.

Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld, middle school/high school me might not have jumped on the Uglies train whenever one else did but I apparently went ahead and got this book by the author. (Fun fact he’s also in Zombies vs Unicorns). I assume I grabbed it because of the familiar author name and the steampunk vibe of the cover.

Seven Sorcerers by Caro King has a spooky-looking cover with magic vibes, my go to when I was younger.

Changeling by Delia Sherman, when I tell you any sort of fantasy fey adventure or magic novel usually ended up on my shelf just because it fell into that category I’m not joking. This cover is kinda creepy and weird but I can see why I got it because of the title. Oh boy.

These are the books that I plan to read for the most part of the rest of this year. Mixing in e-books and maybe some old ones. There are more books on my bookcase but those are reference or books I’ve read but didn’t remember until I started making this list and realized I had. I also have several books that I didn’t realize were book 6 of a series where I haven’t read or own book one through five. So that’s going to require being set aside until I can check books out from the library. (I’m putting it off because I’m trying to figure out how to renew my library card that’s been inactive for over 5 years during a pandemic)

Anyway wish me luck.

What are some books you’ve had on your shelf for a long time and haven’t gotten rid of but also haven’t read yet?

TBR Bookcase tour I'm officially reunited with about 90% of my things. It's weird. Very very weird but I feel like there's some stable ground beneath my feet.

#adventuring bibliophile #books #tbr #to be read #long post

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farmhandler · 5 years

Text

Run

Rating: E

Pairing: Sendak/Shiro

Warnings: Omegaverse, Heat, omega!Shiro, alien!alpha!Sendak, mating run, somewhat dubcon

CH: 1/1

WC: 8.6K~

Read on AO3

**A/N: **Another shendak oneshot, are you bored yet? ;p (That's not an honest question 'cause I'm not HA). This is a little different than my usual, but also not. I just had fun with it. Although it's technically consensual, I tagged it dubcon due to the nature of the situation. Enjoy!

“I’ll see you later. No, no, I’m looking forward to it. Really, I am! I haven’t been avoiding you all; I’ve just been busy.” He paused. “Uh huh. I’ll see you then, Keith, bye.”

Shiro pressed blindly on the bottom end of his phone screen until the call ended, and then shoved his phone in his pocket.

After a long day of work, he was very tired.

The work itself wasn’t tiring, but monotony of the work was starting to wear on him. Going from being a pilot, to losing his arm and then being benched for over a year after was not how he had expected to spend his youth. At 25, he was one of the youngest successful pilots out there, and he’d expected to do something amazing with his skills. But then he’d crashed, and the rest was history.

Paperwork was not his favorite thing to do, and now that he was grounded, that was all they let him do. On occasion he got to running training drills with younger pilots-in-training, but his days were usually full of emails, calls, and papers to electronically file.

He hadn’t been lying to Keith. He was busy, which meant getting out and seeing his friends—even though they worked at the Garrison—wasn’t easy. He wanted to see them, it was just…

Someone nearly jostled him on their way out the door—the door Shiro was still standing in front of, so he moved out of the way, watching her rush off to her car with vague interest. Her perfume smelled nice: floral, doing little to mask the scent of alpha wafting off her. Shiro’s nostrils flared as he inhaled on instinct, resisting the urge to let his eyes flutter shut.

His heat was about a week away. That was the most interesting thing he would experience for the next month, and if he was lucky, he’d find a nice alpha on one of those apps. Or, like every other heat, he’d look through the options, hate every single one of them, and end up spending it alone.

Sighing, Shiro stepped off the curb and walked towards his car.

He noticed the flyer when he was on his way to pick up groceries.

Shiro didn’t live in the Garrison compound—he might literally go insane if that were the case—and so the nearest grocery store was a few dozen blocks away. He liked to take the long walk if he was just picking up a few things and enjoy some much needed fresh air, particularly after being stuffed in his office all day.

It was when he was passing a streetlamp covered in dozens of posters that the wording on one of them caught his eye.

MATING RUN

Bored? Tired of your daily routine? Spice it up with a mating run!

Shiro snorted out loud once he realized what the poster was advertising.

Mating runs were an archaic form of punishment on omegas hundreds of years ago, when alphas would be let loose in groups to chase after omegas on the cusp of their heats. Once an alpha caught an omega…well.

They didn’t teach it in schools anymore, thank god, but Shiro had stumbled upon the literature in the library at the Garrison when he was eighteen, and for about an afternoon he had been horribly fascinated by the process. It was riddled with consent issues and seemed completely in favor of the alphas, but it had been considered a rite of passage at the time. An honor.

Only now, they were illegal.

How the hell had anyone not been arrested for trying to set this up?

Shiro ripped the flyer off the pole and started reading the text. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that the mating run was only in name only. None of the omegas could be in heat, alphas couldn’t be in rut. Couples were encouraged to take part.

Essentially, it was a kinky run through the forest with a stranger or one’s partner. None of it was real.

Shiro crumpled the flyer and tossed it towards the nearby trashcan, his interest dropping dramatically.

I’ve tried having sex with strangers, Shiro thought, starting walking again. It never works out. And who would want to pretend they’re being chased in an event that’s designed to be entirely against their will?

Shiro didn’t think about the mating run as he picked up the carton of eggs and looked inside for any cracked ones. He didn’t think about the run while he was deciding what meats he wanted at the deli. He didn’t consider taking part while he was in line at check-out, watching a large alpha place his things on the conveyor belt, smelling like he’d just come out of the gym, a tempting mix of body chemicals.

Shiro’s heat was in a week. He hadn’t considered taking on a stranger for when he’d be out of his mind for a few days, but for a brief moment he imagined taking part in the mating run after having invited the alpha along. He was muscular and trim, so Shiro was reasonably certain he worked out. He’d probably catch him quickly; Shiro wouldn’t even have to wait that long.

“Next, please?”

He was ripped free of his thoughts by the cashier, a beta that was staring at him expectantly. The alpha was already gone.

“Sorry,” Shiro said, flushing. He quickly set out putting his things on the conveyer belt, shoving thoughts of the mating run from his mind once and for all.

***

Shiro wasn’t looking for the poster. He was just…concerned that he might have missed the garbage can early on his way to the grocery store. That was why he was looking in and around it, just to make sure that he hadn’t missed it.

When he found it lying on the ground, having been blown into the corner of a building ten feet from the trashcan, the sigh he breathed wasn’t one of relief. No; he was just doing his civic duty to keep the city clean.

If he copied the number written down on the bottom of the flyer, that was no one’s business but his own.

***

“We’re going to need you to sign here, here, and here.”

The woman—an omega—smiled at him brightly, while Shiro considered walking out then and there.

He hadn’t planned on calling the number. He hadn’t planned on going to the building where they were taking signups for their kink group, and he certainly hadn’t planned on signing all the paperwork, but here he was.

“What is all this?” he asked, unable to keep the waver out of his voice. He knew that the woman could probably smell his unease as a fellow omega, but she was kept up her bubbly persona and didn’t attempt to soothe him, as much as she probably wanted to.

“The release forms,” she clarified. “This is just to ensure that if anything happens, we aren’t liable. It’s everything we’ve already spoken about, but I suggest you read through them.”

He nodded and started skimming the text.

The rules were simple, and it wasn’t nearly as spontaneous as the flyer made it seem. Everything about the run was controlled. It was taking place in a forest, just like a real mating run, but they would be on constant watch. There weren’t any drones following them around, but there were cameras along the designated path that everyone would take, and they were required to wear trackers ensuring that if they did somehow end up getting lost, they would easily be found. All the ‘alphas’ were trained and vetted by the organization prior to any events.

Shiro held back a smile when he read that going naked wasn’t a requirement like it would have been in an actual mating run. That was just one of the many clauses. Among them there was the one he’d read about on the poster—confirmation that he would either be on suppressants or his cycle would not line up with the run, ensuring that it was consensual for all parties involved. The omegas—and the alphas, if they so chose—could tap out at any time.

His heat would end just a day before the mating run, so at worst, he would smell like post-heat.

Shiro hesitated with his hand over the signature line, a sense of dread washing over him when he considered what he was about to sign up for.

It was fucked up that he wanted a stranger to pretend to take advantage of him during his heat.

“You don’t have to commit today,” the woman said gently. “Or at all. You can walk out this door right now and your money will be refunded to you in a couple of days.”

He shouldn’t want to do this. He shouldn’t, but—

God, he was so bored. He’d lived his life preparing to be a pilot, and once he’d become one, he’d immediately lost it. He’d never been to war, or seen battle, and the last time he’d done something adventurous was get drunk after he’d graduated.

He signed the paper.

***

Wiping his clammy hands on his athletic shorts, Shiro looked around at the group of omegas giggling and walking around their waiting room, wondering if this had all been one big mistake.

Shiro’s heat hadn’t started on time.

It was supposed to trigger a few days ago, but instead, he’d only felt the signs of pre-heat, barely there and almost indistinguishable from how he normally felt. He was aware that the contract he signed forbid him from taking part in the run during heat, but he wasn’t technically in heat.

It was just pre-heat, which was a lot similar to post heat. He was just a little hornier.

The scent of virile alpha wafted over and Shiro tensed, the muscles in his thighs bunching up.

If he was being honest, Shiro wasn’t quite sure what he’d been expecting in coming here. The group of ‘omegas’ wasn’t just omegas. There were only a few dozen of them, and a good handful were aliens that were probably doing this out of curiosity. The rest were obviously couples. Shiro could tell the other single members because they stood alone, and they didn’t say much.

They had reached the forested area where this would all take place a while ago. Water was being passed around, and all the actual omegas were being inspected for signs of heat. Nothing invasive, but there were a few obvious signs, and they had signed a waiver that said they were willing to be scented.

As the alpha started to make her rounds, scenting each of the omegas, Shiro’s nerves kicked up a notch.

He shouldn’t have come. He was breaking the rules by being near heat, even if it wasn’t the real thing. And while heat didn’t make it impossible to function, his ability to give consent was now in jeopardy. The entire operation could be jeopardized just by him being here.

“Hi there,” the alpha said upon approaching him, smiling a disarmingly beautiful smile. Cathryn, her nametag read. “I’m just going to scent you really quick if that’s all right with you.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Shiro turned towards her and exposed his neck, his heart pounding. “I might smell a little—um, like post-heat. I just had it a few days ago.”

The lie slipped out easier than he’d expected. The alpha took his chin in hand and gently pressed her nose against his throat, inhaling a few times. His heart started pounding harder. She sniffed him for much longer than the others, and when she pulled back, she was frowning.

“You had your heat a few days ago?”

Shiro nodded and she let his chin go. Almost immediately he wanted her hands back on him.

“Hm. All right. Then we’re good to go here.” She nodded shortly. “Have fun on the run!”

He watched her go, biting back the urge to ask if she was participating. They had offered to match him with someone so he wouldn’t have to feel overwhelmed by choosing right before the run, but at the time he’d mostly been concerned with getting all the paperwork over with.

“All right, everyone!”

There was an alien that Shiro couldn’t name standing by the exit. He was tapping his fingers on the metal doors, indicating that they were probably going to be opening them soon.

“We’re going to head out in five. Find your partners, and if you’re alone, remember the rules. Anytime you want to tap out, give one of our support crew a call and we’ll come find you. And if we find out that you ignored the requests of your partner—” they grinned, revealing two gigantic and sharp fangs, “—we know where you live.”

There was a murmur among the crowd; excited whispers that transformed into laughter and giggles. Clearly, most of the people there saw this as a fun excursion with their partner and they weren’t taking it very seriously.

Shiro shifted, adjusting the way his shirt laid on his body. He’s chosen his athletic wear, which was light and soft on his skin. He blamed the sensitivity on nerves and adrenaline, heightening his senses and making him feel on edge.

The doors opened, and they started filtering out into the cool air. As soon as he stepped outside, Shiro breathed a relieved sigh. It wasn’t quite winter yet, so it was the perfect temperature for the run, and he could already feel himself itching to move—to get out there and do something.

He breathed in, inhaling a lungful of scents so delectable that his head snapped to where he detected them.

The alphas.

Their guides were explaining the rules again, talking about the alphas and the omegas and their respective roles throughout the run, but Shiro wasn’t paying any attention.

He was busy staring at the alphas sitting in the literal cages that the volunteers had brought. It was barbaric and a little ridiculous, but it was at least offset by the expression on the alpha’s faces, ranging from humor to boredom.

The moment they realized their omegas had arrived, a few of them started whooping and howling in an exaggerated display. A few of the omegas howled back, while others fell into loud laughter.

“Chris!” called one man, waving his hands wildly. He ran over to a dark-skinned man and grabbed his arms through the bars, grinning.

Shiro looked past him, taking in the sight of the other alphas. Most were human, but there were a few aliens in there. Shiro spotted a few galra, of all things: there was a large one, and then another tall and thin. They both looked bored, but the larger one scowled at anyone who walked by, appearing as though he found the entire situation ridiculous. It was odd behavior, considering he was the one being paid to provide a service.

Their scents wafted over, strange and different. Shiro wanted to get a closer look, but then their group was being herded to the other side of the starting line to have the rules explained to them one more time.

This time Shiro managed to pay attention, nodding along while Cathryn spoke.

“Like we’ve said before, even if you requested not to be matched, we ask that you to pick someone,” she said. “It helps to have an idea who you want to catch you, unless you want to be chased by multiple alphas.” She smirked. “Once everyone’s ready, gather back around by the starting line. You don’t need to line up, but just stay in that area.”

She pointed to a long line of rope that stretched across the grass, to their right and just past the furthest cages.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

A few hands went up. People started to drift, going to see their alphas, while a few other milled off to the side, unsure or appearing to consider the alphas that were still up for the choosing.

Shiro’s skin felt like it was buzzing. He managed to tear his eyes away from Cathryn and glanced at the cages, eyes skittering over the many faces. The combination of scents lingering wasn’t helping him any, confusing his nose and his brain.

He brushed the sweat off his forehead, then looked down at his hand.

I’m going into heat, he realized belatedly.

Shiro didn’t feel as bothered as he probably should have been. Mostly because he still felt like himself and would for quite a while yet.

I should leave.

Shiro made no move to do so, merely plucking at the collar of his shirt to get some air flowing and cool down.

It was probably the stupidest and most terrifying decision he’d made to date, but he just couldn’t get the image out of his head—the ones from when he was eighteen, when he had imagined an alpha pinning him down and having their way with him.

This wasn’t the same, because it was consensual, but that only made it better. Even if it was all his choosing, someone he didn’t know would still be chasing after him, maybe even for real.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was mid-heat, so it wouldn’t be like either of them were really out of it.

Shiro’s gaze drifted for some time, but his eyes kept straying to the same person in one of the center cages. It was the big galra from earlier; purple-furred, with large ears, standing probably a few heads or so taller than Shiro. Like most of the alphas, he was only dressed in a pair of athletic pants that did little to hide his muscled thighs and thick calves.

And he was staring. He’d been staring at Shiro for a while now, gazing at him unflinchingly with an intensity that Shiro would have otherwise found unnerving.

Whereas Shiro would normally bristle at the attention, this time he merely cocked his head, meeting the stranger’s gaze with a raised eyebrow.

The galra did not even blink. His nostrils flared, and Shiro abruptly realized why he was staring.

He knows.

His skin prickled, goosebumps raising the hairs on his arms and neck. He shivered. This galra—whoever he was—he looked strong. Really strong. He had scars on his face, and huge claws that looked like they could rip right through him.

Shiro made a soft sound in the back of his throat, wrapping his arms around himself. Inexplicably, he felt cold all of a sudden, and wondered what that fur might feel like pressed against his body, or what his teeth might feel like biting into his jugular, bonding him. Maybe by force.

I want him to catch me.

Shiro’s feet started moving on their own, walking him towards the galra until he was standing directly in front of his cage. He still hadn’t said a word, but he hadn’t looked away from Shiro, not even once.

“Hi,” Shiro said. It came out breathless, so he tried again after clearing his throat. “My name is Shiro. What’s yours?”

The galra narrowed his one good eye at Shiro. This close, his scent invaded Shiro’s nose: it was so much thicker than a human’s, so strong he might describe it as a stench if he hadn’t felt his brain go fuzzy. It was the scent of an alpha. A big, strong, virile alpha.

“Sendak.”

His voice deep, reaching somewhere inside Shiro and holding him there. He felt suspended, and he grabbed onto the bars of the cage to keep himself from feeling like he’d float away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sendak.” Sendak’s nostrils flared again and he leaned forward, wrapping his palms carefully around the bars above Shiro’s head. The movement was restrained, like he was holding himself back. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase. No pun intended.”

Sendak said nothing. He waited, fingers curling and uncurling around the bars slowly.

“I’m supposed to choose someone. I’m not choosing you.”

Sendak’s lips curled and the bars shook as he yanked at them with his fists. Shiro’s stomach dropped out from under him.

“And you’ve decided to tell me to earn my ire or make me feel envious of your chosen ‘alpha’,” Sendak sneered. “You waste time, and your efforts are in vain.”

“No, that’s not what I’m doing.” Shiro leaned against the bars, pressing his cheek into the cool metal. His head and heart were pounding, and he was about to make a break for it in the dim lighting of the forest at night, and this galra that he didn’t know was looking at him like he was a piece of meat. He felt reckless and wild. “I’m not choosing anyone. But I’m giving you a head start. If you catch me, I’ll let you spend my heat with me. Have you ever been with an omega in heat?”

Sendak was silent. Shiro could sense his answer would have been negative.

He stepped away from the bars, walking backwards towards the starting line, a smile slowly forming on his face. Sendak leaned forward, his nostrils flaring wide, chest expanding with each breath. Scenting the air; scenting him.

It had been bashed into their head that they—the omegas—would get a four minute head start on the alphas.

“You’ve got five minutes,” Shiro called, raising his hand in a carefree wave.

As the realization dawned on him, Sendak’s contemplative frown grew into a vicious smirk.

Back at the starting line, almost everyone who had chosen was waiting for the event to begin. There were a few that had decided to sit out and watch, but the rest were ready and raring to go. Most of them were still holding in laughter, clinging to each other as the sun finally set, casting the area in a grim darkness.

Shiro felt hot. He wanted to rip every piece of clothing off his body, but while it was allowed, he didn’t feel comfortable doing so. Besides, a few people were giving him wary glances, like they weren’t sure if he was actually going into heat or post-heat. With how similar they could smell to an omega that didn’t have the mating instinct, none of them were aware.

He just hoped the people running this whole thing didn’t notice either. The wind was blowing at his back, sending his scent forward and into the forest, which worked in his advantage. He would be harder to track.

A few more people arrived, and then there was the final demonstration as they explained the rules one more time. There was some minor grumbling from the crowd, but Shiro was hardly paying attention. Excitement and anticipation were building inside him; he had his eyes on a path to the left, between a few trees that would give him some excellent cover.

The voices quieted. Someone to Shiro’s left sneezed before they settled. The air seemed charged with a sudden electricity. Shiro kept shifting on his feet, inching forward, muscles bunched and ready to sprint.

The horn sounded, and Shiro took off like a shot.

He didn’t bother to look behind him to see if the rest of the group had followed him. He ran at full speed, arms pumping, eager to get a head start.

About a dozen yards into his run, his stomach suddenly tightened to the point of pain, flooding his body with a wave of molten heat. He stumbled, and then came to a stop, pressing his hands against his abdomen.

For a moment, he was worried he was going to be sick. He swallowed over and over, throat tight; then the feeling faded, and he became aware of something warm and wet leak out of him, soaking straight through his underwear. Shiro touched the crease of his ass to check; sure enough, it was wet with slick, and when his fingers made contact with his hole, he had to resist pressing in harder.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He was already in heat. Not pre-heat, but a full-blown, actual heat. How was he already there?

Shiro lifted his head and sniffed at the air. He hadn’t gone that far yet; he could still hear the voices of the other people from not far off, echoing loudly in the quiet forest. Behind that, he could detect the scents of the alphas from the compound, but only just.

Shiro swallowed against a flood of saliva. He licked his lips, suddenly tempted to head back and—

No. No.

He wasn’t just any omega begging to be fucked and knotted. This was his mating run, and only a worthy alpha would find him and take him.

Shiro looked past the well-lit path and walked to its edge, peering into the part of the forest they weren’t supposed to go in. The sun had set, but it wasn’t pitch-black yet. He had time. He’d be fine.

Shiro’s fingers edged towards his waistband, tugging at the fabric that was lying uncomfortably on his hips.

The voices grew closer. Shiro looked behind himself to make sure the coast was clear, and then ducked under a tree and took off.

With every step that he took, he could tell that his heat was fast approaching its apex. What had started as barely a trickle turned into a gush of fluid that stained his shorts and the backs of his thighs. Moving became more difficult as the itch of need started to prod at his hips, but he kept running, feet pounding at the ground.

Whereas he would normally be exhausted by this point, the start of his heat left him with plenty of energy that had been stored away in preparation. Even though it felt like he’d been running for ages, not once did Shiro stop. He kept going, passing in between trees and jumping over gnarled roots lying in his way. In the distance he could see lights shining from a few buildings. The cabins they were meant to use? Shiro’s had a name and a color, but it was too dark to see.

He slowed to a stop to get a better look, and that was when he heard a sound coming from behind.

Shiro froze, ears perked.

It started out faint, and for a moment Shiro thought it was the sound of a deer running through the forest like the ones he’d passed by. But then it grew closer, and he realized with a start that it was the sound of someone running. Fast.

He glanced behind him for only a split second and caught sight of a something large and distinctly person-shaped.

A hysterical giggle erupted out of Shiro. He sprinted off away from the cabins, peals of panicked laughter escaping his lips. In the second he’d seen him, he hadn’t gotten a good look, but he recognized the build of one of the bigger alphas.

A twig snapped behind Shiro. He nearly tripped on a root when vaulting over it, and that split second of hesitation gave the alpha enough time to get close enough that Shiro could hear his every exhale coming from directly behind. Shiro couldn’t smell him from the front, but he imagined it turning warm and musky with the effort of tracking and chasing him down.

He nearly stumbled again as a bolt of need shot straight through him. His cock was doing its best to get hard, and he could feel fluid dribbling down the back of his knees. The alpha had to be able to smell it. Shiro hoped he could.

He grimaced. Maybe he was closer to heat he thought. Barely a few minutes in, and Shiro was already desperate to be fucked.

That didn’t stop him from running. He kept on going, even as his lungs burned and his breath came out in exhausted huffs. He didn’t stop even as he swore he could feel the alpha’s breath on his back.

He couldn’t make himself stop running for anything less than the alpha catching him. He had to earn it.

Had it been five minutes? Shiro had no idea. He just kept going, until he stepped on a wet patch of leaves and slid forward, arms pinwheeling as he tried to right himself. He extended one of his arms to grab at the nearby tree, but before he could, someone grabbed him by the waist and slammed him into the ground.

Shiro’s vision swam viciously as his cheek met the wet combination of leaves and dirt. The alpha that had captured him quickly sat over the backs of his thighs, trapping him there. They leaned over, their breath hot on his throat.

Whoever they were, they were huge. He couldn’t see anything past their bulk from how he was lying, let alone move. Then they—he, Shiro realized—placed a hand on the back of Shiro’s neck, claws threatening the sensitive skin there.

Shiro wriggled uselessly, testing the bounds of his capture, panting, fighting against instincts that were urging him to spread his legs and part his cheeks so the alpha could plunge right in.

“Submit,” the alpha growled. Shiro recognized his voice. It was Sendak.

Despite Sendak's command, Shiro remained tense, the muscles in his shoulders and legs bunched so tight he was trembling. He stayed like that, breathing in the alpha’s musk, his brain going fuzzier and fuzzier. Slick slid down the inside of his thigh.

Sendak growled again, and this time the sound made Shiro moan in the back of his throat, shivering as a stronger gush of fluid followed.

“Submit,” he repeated, teeth brushing the back of his neck. Shiro was caged in by his body; there was nowhere he could go, even if he’d wanted to.

Shiro didn’t want to. He hadn’t wanted to since the beginning, since he’d taken one single look at Sendak and knew that he was the one he wanted.

Shiro closed his eyes and went limp.

Sendak rumbled a pleased sound and flipped Shiro onto his back, his hands tearing—literally tearing—at his shorts to rid Shiro of them.

He didn’t wait, and he didn’t ask, because he’d earned it.

Shiro was his prize.

He whimpered when Sendak grabbed him by his thighs and thrust him aside, exposing him to the moonlight. It was hard to see in the dark, but the bright yellow glow of his eye was distinguishable enough that Shiro could tell he was examining him, perhaps deciding how he wanted him.

Shiro imagined being turned around on his hands and knees, being used as a fucktoy, a warm body to sate Sendak’s need. Even though technically it was the other way around, that it was Shiro who was awash in sweat and heat.

Instead of reading his mind and fulfilling his fantasies, Sendak stayed where he was and dragged his cock alongside Shiro’s. Rutting. It was nearly double the size of his own, fat drops of precome drooling from the tip.

“God,” Shiro whined, staring at it, suffering at each brush of his big cock. He turned onto his side, dislodging Sendak and shoving him away so he could expose the part of himself that really needed Sendak’s cock. Sendak watched him for a moment, eyes training on the hand Shiro used to lift his leg and reached behind his back, fingers seeking entry at his hole.

The moment they made contact Sendak’s hand shot out to still his progress, the growl that erupted out of him so loud and fierce that Shiro went completely still.

His other hand was at Shiro’s throat again, but it wasn’t threatening. He just…held it there, keeping Shiro pressed into the ground, showing him exactly what he was capable of.

Shiro trembled, itching, aching, and more slick gushed over the backs of his thighs when Sendak’s teeth ghosted over his throat. With no other choice, he Shiro went obligingly limp once again. He felt Sendak’s grin, then saw it when he pulled his head back.

Without uttering another word Sendak freed his hands, using one to angle his cock, and the other to hook Shiro’s leg over his shoulder so he couldn’t dislodge himself, leaving him wide open.

Sendak’s cock was so close, so close. Shiro bit his lip, toes curling, resisting squirming even though it was all he wanted to do.

“C’mon,” he begged. “C’mon, come on, plea—”

Sendak cut him off before he could plead anymore, sliding inside with a wet squelch.

Shiro’s resulting moan was pure, utter relief. He hadn’t realized how badly it had gotten until he finally got what he’d been craving, what he needed. He tossed his head back, biting down on his lip, awash with pleasure as Sendak’s cock filled him all the way and then some.

Sendak’s mouth was back on his throat again, teeth hanging right above the jugular, like he knew it was where humans were most fragile. Shiro moaned as quietly as he could manage, which wasn’t much when he was speared on Sendak’s cock.

Sendak groaned in his ear, low and deeply satisfied, and then he started fucking him, wasting no time in working up to speed.

And he was big. It made Shiro’s head buzz with satisfaction knowing that the alpha that had caught him was as big and strong as he’d hoped. He was vaguely aware of some pain, but that was washed away quickly by the euphoria.

“God, yes,” Shiro breathed, barely aware that he was speaking. Each thrust sent Shiro skidding along the wet undergrowth, punctuated by his pleasured yelps. “Yes, yes, yes yes yes!”

Sendak growled deep in the center of his chest, curling forward, the new angle burying him that much more firmly inside Shiro. He kept fucking him, pulling Shiro down onto his cock, like it was that easy, like he could crush Shiro under his hands, but he was choosing to fuck him instead.

Each powerful thrust sent lightning bolts of heat straight to Shiro’s cock. It felt like he’d come once already. He reached up to curl his hand around Sendak’s shoulders, maybe give himself a little breathing room, but Sendak caught his hand and pinned it to the ground. It wrenched at Shiro’s shoulder—not enough to hurt, but enough that it forced his back against the ground while Sendak was still pistoning in and out of him with no sign of slowing.

Then, in an unexpected move Sendak pulled all the way out, followed by a hot flood of Shiro’s slick.

“Wait—no! No no no!”

Shiro let out a panicked whine. In a heat-induced daze, thoughts too muddled to think properly, he mistook Sendak’s movements as an attempt to pin him down without giving him what he needed, leaving him empty and aching. He jerked his shoulder to try and escape Sendak’s iron grip to no avail.

“Please, keep going, please, please don’t stop—”

Another growl, this one less threatening and more coaxing. It sounded warm in his chest, almost like a purr, and then Sendak pinned both of Shiro’s hands to the ground and nudged his thighs underneath Shiro’s legs, silent encouragement to wrap them around his waist.

Shiro was blind to it. He didn’t understand why Sendak wasn’t fucking him; he was so wet he was dripping, and he wanted to be knotted so badly. Didn’t Sendak want him?

He didn’t realize he was still pleading with Sendak until he pressed his mouth to Shiro’s throat, licking long, hot stripes up the length. He kept doing this, licking at him and rutting against the inside of his thigh until Shiro quieted.

“Calm yourself,” Sendak rumbled. His hand landed on Shiro’s hip, tugging at it. “Release me. I can’t mate you if you won’t let me.”

Shiro frowned, but he followed Sendak’s command, understanding dawning once Sendak fed his cock back inside him now that he had the room to do so. The position urged him even deeper, right at the hot core raveled tight inside him.

“Oh god, I’m—right there.” Shiro broke off as Sendak thrust all the way inside, grinding the base of his knot up into him roughly, and the following cry that came out of Shiro’s mouth was close to a sob. Sendak was so big and so deep inside him, and when he came, Sendak kept him pinned to the ground and didn’t stop fucking him, even when Shiro started screaming.

Whatever Galra cocks were made of, it was driving him nuts. Shiro squirmed, digging his feet into Sendak’s back, and in a powerful display, Sendak shifted into a low crouch, bending Shiro nearly in half to better fuck him.

Shiro’s voice nearly gave out when he came the second time. Sendak threaded their fingers, pressed up against his front, claws digging into the soft earth underneath the back of Shiro’s hands. He nuzzled Shiro’s throat, growling when Shiro’s moans reached new heights. He couldn’t keep quiet for the life of him, and when Sendak knotted him—god.

Shiro had taken a dozen knots in his life, of all varying sizes. But Sendak was on an entirely new level. The first knotting was usually the worst, and this time Shiro was almost certain they were going to send someone eventually to check on the noise. His throat felt raw.

“Such lovely squeals,” Sendak said, rolling his hips to seat the knot in place. Shiro sobbed a little as he lodged it right up against his prostate. "It’s a good thing I found you before someone else encroached upon what was mine.”

In heat, it was hard to focus on anything other than Sendak knot and fucking him. His words registered, but they didn’t really matter. He watched Sendak lift his head and sniff at the air, but his eyes followed the line of his throat, shifting down to stare at the way his pecs flexed in the moonlight.

“C’mon,” he whined, groping at his waist, not sure what he was asking. “C’mon, come on.”

Sendak turned to him and growled again. He raised his hand, and for a wild moment Shiro thought it was headed for his throat. But it landed over his mouth, keeping him quiet.

Shiro’s eyes flickered to the left. He could hear the voices now; Sendak had probably heard them way further off. It should have bothered him that he could hear them, but he was mostly unphased, focused entirely on Sendak, the alien with a big cock and a gorgeous knot that was slowly driving him insane.

Shiro shifted subtly, trying to rock down onto Sendak’s thick knot, but the position made that difficult. He couldn’t get a good angle, and each time he failed he whined a little louder, a little needier.

After a time Sendak swore, moving his hand away from Shiro’s mouth and down to his waist. He hooked his chin over Shiro’s shoulder and brought his hands around his ass, hiking him higher against his chest.

“Grab onto me,” he commanded. Shiro instantly obeyed, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Sendak braced his feet and then lifted the two of them. “Hold on,” he added, as if Shiro wasn’t clinging desperately. Moments later, the knot slipped out of his body and Sendak burst into motion, taking off towards the cabins.

“Direct me to your cabin,” Sendak declared. It took a few seconds for Shiro to understand what was being said, and by that point Sendak had already started approaching each cabin, searching for his name.

“Thir-third from the end,” Shiro managed. He buried his face in Sendak’s throat, inhaling. God, the scent on the man. “Black name plate.”

Sendak hurried to the cabin, bursting inside like they were being chased. Considering how Shiro hurried him along, pressing open-mouthed kisses and hasty pleas into his fur, he couldn’t blame him.

They made it to the bed in record time. Sendak threw Shiro onto the sheets, using that same incredible strength to shove Shiro into place, spreading his thighs so he could bury himself inside his wet heat.

Had Shiro been of his right mind, he might have been terrified to have a stranger mandhandling him and pinning him down while he fucked him, but by that point, he didn’t care. He didn’t care that Sendak fucked him with a specific kind of ruthlessness that he knew would leave bruises all over his hips and thighs, and he didn’t care that he could feel Sendak’s claws burying themselves into his skin.

Everything about Sendak was alien. The way he looked, the way he acted, the way he fucked—and Shiro loved it. He loved every second. It was like a dream.

By the third time being knotted, Shiro was so deep in heat that when someone knocked on the door, he clung to Sendak’s shoulders and begged him to make them go away.

“Don’t let them take me away,” he pleaded with him. “Please, please, I need you. I need you more than they do. You’re my alpha. They can’t have you.”

“Mine,” Sendak said, as much a claim as it was affirmation of Shiro’s current state of mind. He turned, eyeing the door with distaste, and growled that same low, deep growl that Shiro had heard when he’d first found him.

Submit.

Shiro shuddered, biting down on his knuckles. He felt like a live wire, overheated and constantly on the edge. Sendak’s cock was lodged fully inside him, filling him with his come, and Shiro himself had come half a dozen times already, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Eventually they left, quiet murmurs disappearing. Shiro could finally breathe—though it didn’t last long.

Shiro hadn’t been prepared for a heat. Exhaustion crept up on him quicker than he’d like. It got bad enough that Shiro lost his voice completely, moving on fumes alone, and Sendak forcibly held him down against the bedsheets, laying his hand over Shiro throat each time he tried to beg.

“Please?” he croaked, sounding close to a sob. “Please? I’ll be good, I’ll be so good. Please!”

“You are resting. Then you will eat and drink. And then we bathe. And only then will I fuck you.”

“Fuck me now and I’ll let you mate me.” Shiro tried to wriggle onto his cock, desperate to get out of his hold and fuck himself, but Sendak merely blinked at him placidly. “You know how to mate an omega, right? It’s easy, you just have to bite—”

“I have no interest in marking you,” Sendak interrupted. Shiro’s mouth snapped shut, and heart sank in an instant. Sendak cocked his head, stroking the side of his face with his large hand, and said, “You are already mine.”

“Oh,” Shiro said, quietly elated. Maybe not so much when his heat was over, but for now, that was the best thing he’d heard all night. “Okay. So you’ll fuck me?”

Sendak breathed through his nose. He changed positions, pushing Shiro back against the sheets. It wasn’t obvious what he was trying to do until he nuzzled Shiro’s cock with his mouth and dragged his fingers through the slick still gathering.

“Be still,” he warned, tongue darting out to brush over the tip of his cock. Shiro shuddered.

They fucked long into the morning, long after Shiro was supposed to have checked in. He was filled with come over and over, stuffed so full he worried there’d be no end to it. Sendak didn’t seem bothered by Shiro’s lack of refractory period, and even though he forced him to rest occasionally, refusing to even touch him, Shiro never felt neglected.

He felt sated. He felt good. He never wanted it to end.

****

He felt like shit.

The end of Shiro’s heat was always marked by a splitting headache, and this time was no exception.

A full day after he’d started his heat, Shiro woke up and felt like himself for the first time. At first, he lied in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying not to look directly at the big purple alien lying beside him, but eventually his bladder won out and he slipped out of bed. Or rather, he tried to.

Crumpled may have been a better descriptor; thanks to Sendak, Shiro’s body was covered in bruises, scratches, and scars. When he attempted to walk to the bathroom, he had to pause and hold onto the edge of the bed while his legs screamed at him in protest.

God, everything hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed, planting one hand along his hip. In the heat of the moment it hadn’t bothered him, but maybe he should have warned Sendak to be more careful of his frail human skin.

He glanced over at the body lying still in bed. Even curled on his side, Sendak appeared gigantic. Shiro swallowed, thinking about the teeth against his throat.

This had to be one of the stupidest things he’d ever done in his entire life. Once he spoke to those in charge, he was probably going to receive a serious reprimand. If he wasn’t immediately given the boot for endangering everyone involved.

After using the bathroom, Shiro took stock of his surroundings. Observing the cabin had been the last thing on his mind when he’d been in heat, but upon inspection, there wasn’t anything too impressive about it. Other than a bathroom and a small kitchen, it was unremarkable.

“Where are my clothes?” Shiro wondered aloud, realizing a moment later that Sendak had ripped them off his body. Right.

He glanced at Sendak again. As far as he was aware, he was still sleeping. Did the people here provide a change of clothing? How often were they supposed to check in on couples? The more Shiro thought about it, the more he realized he’d hardly paid attention to anything that had truly been important. He didn’t even know what time they were supposed to return.

Shiro’s phone buzzed on the end table. He wasn’t aware Sendak had retrieved it for him.

“Hey…uh, Sendak?” he tried, surprised when Sendak rolled over and met his eyes. “Um. Did I—did you get my phone for me?”

“While you slept,” Sendak confirmed. “You left it where I caught you.”

“Oh. Wow. Thanks.” Shiro shuffled over to the left, towards the doorway, then back to the right when he remembered he wasn’t wearing anything clothing. He stopped, because he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself. He was in the post-heat state, fragile and still seeking comfort from his alpha.

With no other options, Shiro turned away from Sendak and went back into the bathroom. The space was small, a far-cry from the one Shiro had to himself at the Garrison. He stared at himself in the mirror, grimacing at the sight of hickeys and bitemarks all along his neck and throat. A good number of them were concentrated where Shiro could have been marked. Could being the operative word.

Sendak hadn’t marked him. The revelation was as relieving as it was disappointing.

A hand that wasn’t his own slipped over his shoulder, near the base of his throat.

Shiro watched Sendak shuffle in behind him, his size made even more extreme in the tiny space. He didn’t bother to ask permission as he bent down and peppered Shiro’s throat with kisses, paying special attention to where Shiro’s gaze had lied.

“You begged me to mark you,” he said into his skin. His hands landed on Shiro’s hips. “You begged me to make you mine. You did not understand when I explained how it works for the galra.”

“I remember something like that.” Shiro laid his hand over Sendak’s, trying not to blush as he worked his way over his shoulder. “I think. How does it work again?”

Sendak met his eyes in the mirror. Inexplicably, he smirked, and then shuffled past him to use the bathroom.

Shiro never did get an answer out of him. Not long after, there came a knock at their door and they were preoccupied with the situation Shiro had gotten them into.

The only reason that they’d been left alone was apparently because of Sendak. He explained that he had deterred anyone from entering by claiming he went into rut, and that it had triggered a latent heat in Shiro. It was flimsy as far as excuses went, but Shiro was grateful he didn’t have to try and explain what he was doing in heat when he had explicitly denied it from the beginning.

“Why are you helping me?” Shiro asked while he gathered his things, including the clothes provided for him. It was a simple black tank and a pair of shorts. They didn’t feel great on his post-heat skin, but he didn’t have much of a choice.

“I have no reason not to help you,” Sendak replied, which wasn’t much of an answer at all. Shiro watched him get dressed, turning away only when he made a phone call and began speaking in a language Shiro didn’t understand.

They barely spoke as they gathered themselves and then met up at the facility. Shiro was examined and questioned to ensure that he was alright, but he assured them that he had enjoyed his time with Sendak, and that it was entirely consensual.

“I realized I was going into heat and decided to do it even after I figured it out. Sendak’s a nice guy.”

He didn’t actually know that, and based on the way he was limping around, he wasn’t sure anyone bought it. But because he didn’t seem outwardly stressed, they let them go without further questioning.

All Shiro knew was that for the galra, mating was different. No bite-marks were involved. At least not the kind Shiro was thinking of.

Had he been mated? Shiro wasn’t sure he was ready to know that answer, so he didn’t ask. Instead, he stood by Sendak while he waited for his ride to show up (he’d called in a favor with Hunk), and Sendak watched over him.

“Will you be all right going home on your own?” Sendak asked. His expression didn’t change, the but inflection in his voice suggested he did care. Shiro felt a little better thinking about it like that.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for looking out for me. I know I didn’t exactly…ask.”

Sendak scoffed. “I understood the rules, and I also understand how you yearned to break them. You are a fascinating individual for it.”

Shiro rubbed his forearm, oddly uneasy at Sendak’s assessment of him.

“Well,” he said, spotting Hunk’s car turning the corner. “I’ll see you later, I guess? Do you have a phone number I can reach?”

“I will find you,” Sendak promised him. Shiro blinked.

“What—”

“Hey,” Hunk interrupted, rolling down his window. “Shiro! You ready, buddy?”

“Hunk, hi! Yeah, I’m ready.” He glanced back at Sendak, noting the way his eyes followed him on his way to the passenger side door. “Thanks again, Sendak.” He paused with the door still open and offered an awkward wave. “Have a good one.”

Have a good one? Really?

Shiro wanted to wince. Instead, he slid into the car, mentally beating himself for giving Sendak such a terrible goodbye. Thankfully, Sendak didn’t seem bothered; if anything, the smirk on his face told Shiro that he was amused. And maybe he’d see him again if Sendak’s words weren’t all talk. Whatever they meant.

Smiling, Shiro turned his gaze out the window.

“So who was that guy?" Hunk asked, eyeing him. "And why do you smell like you drank his bathwater?”

Shiro’s smile turned into an embarrassed grin. Fascinating indeed.

#shendak #voltron #a/b/o #omegaverse #mating #heat #voltron fic #my fic #vld #i cant end anything ever

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thatawkwardnerdytomboy · 5 years

Text

“Stop waiting for things in your life to get better and MAKE changes to make your life better.”

This is something I’m getting really tired of hearing from people. Something people don’t realize about life is that sometimes when you actively do things to make your life better, there’s still a lot of waiting for those things to take effect. I’ve been going through a very difficult time all year. I really really hate my job. I deliver food for a fast food restaurant. Sometimes I have to carry 50+ lbs of food on my back, walk for miles (they don’t give us bikes) and carry it up 4-5 flights of stairs, sometimes in the pouring rain, boiling heat and freezing cold. When I’m not making deliveries, I’m in the dining room cleaning, taking out the trash, running and bussing tables, running dishes to the kitchen, helping customers, mopping, sweeping and stocking supplies. Sometimes I even help with food prep. The only thing I don’t do is wash the dishes. Now you’re probably thinking, “oh, well that doesn’t sound that bad.” Well, try doing that while the room is spinning, you feel like you just ran a marathon and the chemicals in your brain are telling you to kill yourself...and this is all before you even start your shift. I have thyroid disease, vertigo and a vitamin D deficiency. All these things make my job unbearable. I’m constantly exhausted, depressed and dizzy. Not to mention, I have a communication disorder so speaking to people is very difficult as well. My immune system is compromised. I got an infection on my hand after only working there for a couple of months because the restaurant is always filthy and it’s my job to clean it. My finger swelled up so much that I couldn’t bend it. Since I didn’t have medical insurance, I had to prick myself with a needle and drain the pus myself.

I have been trying like hell since I started this job to find another job. And of course, I keep getting rejected.

So here are a few things I’ve been trying to do to improve my situation aside from applying for jobs:

• I’m a freelance illustrator and I’ve been trying to put myself out there and try to get commissions to make some extra money. But of course, I can’t just assign myself commissions and give myself money, I have to wait for people to commission me and I’ve actually gotten a few commissions this year. I also tabled at an art show last month and sold a few prints and copies of a novel I wrote.

• I illustrated a children’s book for free as part of a deal so that the author and I can go into business together. However, I’m still waiting for the author to get the book printed. I’d like to emphasize the “waiting” part. This isn’t going to happen overnight. I need to WAIT.

• One of my former teachers got a grant to work on some short films and he wants to create a short series of pilot films/episodes for a film series. I showed up to every meeting for these discussions always prepared with my script, always on time and always willing to take the next step toward making this happen. It’s been a couple of years since we first discussed this and during the past couple of years, we’ve had to WAIT for him to get that grant. Now that he has the grant, I need to WAIT for him to return from traveling so that we can start filming. More waiting. Not much else I can do at this point.

• I reached out to the dean of my college and the program coordinator of the pre-college program that I graduated from in high school to ask for help with finding work. My college’s campus has a career services office which I’ve visited. I asked for help with finding a job at this office and all they could tell me was that I wasn’t going to find a job on Indeed and that I need to reach out to other alumni and network in order to find work--which I’ve already tried. So now I need to WAIT to hear back from the dean and the coordinator to see if they can help me find a job.

Story Time: The school that I attended is a not-for-profit university and while I was attending the university, I had a very difficult time securing enough financial aid to remain in my classes. I came close to dropping out because of this. I got a meeting with the financial aid director of my school and they told me that since I was in that pre-college program and I spent so much time in high school volunteering and I came from a poor socio-economic background that the school had a responsibility to help me finish school. So, they gave me extra financial aid to dorm and they helped me secure a work-study job. Now that I’ve graduated, I still need help from my school to find a decent job. As a matter of fact, I got my first job after I graduated because one of my supervisors from my work-study job found me a job. And then I got laid off less than 6 months later...

• I recently had to retake my learner’s permit exam because my permit expired and I didn’t get to take driver’s ed yet. I haven’t taken driver’s ed yet because I’ve been more focused on trying to find a better job, working on the children’s book I illustrated, dealing with my medical issues and just the day-to-day bullshit. I also haven’t had the money since I recently moved out of my mother’s place and drained my savings and whatever money I had to do so. So yeah, I’ve been pretty broke these past few months. Now that I’ve retaken my permit test and went into more credit card debt paying for that, now I need to WAIT for my new permit to come in the mail so that I can start driver’s ed. My girlfriend and I plan on moving to California someday and that’s going to be very difficult to do if we can’t drive. I know, all the Cali people are going “well, you don’t necessarily need a car.” Well, when I visited Cali, my friend and I had to do an obscene amount of walking through the suburbs to get anywhere after getting off public transportation. And having to take trains and busses between each city also takes a lot of time. Having a car would be so much easier. But we’re going to wait until we actually have the money for all of this which won’t be any time soon. Also, a lot of arts-related jobs require that people know how to drive because if you work for an arts program or gallery, they ask people to transport art pieces. So if I get my license, I’ll have more job opportunities in general. But like I said, this isn’t all going to happen overnight. I have to WAIT. • I used to work as a teacher’s assistant for a non-profit but I quit because they kept running out of money to pay us. But I recently discovered that they increased their pay rate and that they’re hiring. I really hope this means that they’ve solved their funding issues. Anyway, I told them that I want to work there again because, at this point, I rather work anywhere else. I actually liked working as a teacher’s assistant too. It was easy and sometimes fun. So I have a meeting on Monday, that I have to WAIT for to discuss my availability and where they want to place me. So I already technically got the job, we’re just going to discuss my scheduling for the job.

• I am also writing a new novel not only as a possible way to make money in the future but also as a form of therapy (since I can’t afford actual therapy right now because my “health insurance” is a scam). I’ve also came up with an idea for a TV show and my teacher suggested that I apply for a grant to create a pilot for it. I have over 50 pages of an outline of events that take place on this show. I made a documentary in high school so I know a little about filmmaking but I don’t yet have experience making fictional films so I am going to WAIT until I have experience with the film that I’m going to be making with my teacher so that I know what the process is like and so that I can use it as a way to hone my writing/directing skills.

• I’m going to be applying for medicaid today since my health insurance is utter crap but I heard there’s a WAITING period as they figure out if the applicant is qualified so I’m probably not going to get that any time soon. But when I do, I’m going to try to find a therapist and/or psychiatrist.

So in conclusion, I may complain a lot about my situation and I have the right to do so because if I just kept everything bottled up all the time and never complained, I’d probably be having a panic attack every day like I did yesterday at work and like I did last summer at my last job. I get really mixed messages from people about how I’m supposed to go about dealing with my struggles. I get people telling me that if I’m going through something that I need to talk to someone; that I need to talk to them about it. But then when I do, they often tell me to just suck it up and be glad that I have a job and place to live. However, just because I do doesn’t mean that I have a decent quality of life. For example, my apartment has bedbugs and I’ve called the housing office (which has abysmal reviews), 311, the borough president’s office and they haven’t done anything about it so my girlfriend and I had to take care of it and they haven’t completely gone away. My health insurance doesn’t cover any of my medical expenses and I’m paying out of pocket via my paychecks for it. Doctors’ visits are very expensive. I’m currently almost near $3K in debt and that’s just from getting a splint for my wrist and getting testing done at the OB/GYN’s office. I feel like our society has been so conditioned to believe that as long as you’re not homeless and you’re making minimum wage, you should be happy even when your medical insurance company is trying to drown you in debt, you barely scrape by to pay your bills every month, can’t afford to go back to school and you’re living in a bed-bug infested apartment. In other developed countries, people don’t have to struggle the way that we do. Their tax dollars pay for everything including medical care and college. Their public housing is also better too. So you could live a good life going to school, working part-time and living in public housing in places like Germany but here, in great ole’ America, we have such a terrible quality of life that it makes people want to kill themselves.

So to anyone who wants to tell me to shut up, suck it up and do things to make my life better, you can shut up now.

#Millennials #millennial generation #millenial life #life #Suicidal Thoughts #life sucks #i hate my life #i hate my job #the struggle #struggling #struggles #illness #illnesses #thyroid disease #depression

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wroughtbetwixtfanfic · 5 years

Text

A Memory Of The Smell of Smoke, Ch 5.

Fandom: The Society.

Summary: Everyone liked to pretend that Campbell had been born bad. That their fear and hatred were logical, rational, justified, because Campbell was a monster incapable of making the choice between good and evil. Because he couldn’t feel the way they did. Well, fuck that. He was gonna prove them wrong. At least, that had been the plan.

Rating: Mature.

Tags: Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon, Emotional Baggage, Mental Health Issues, Child Abuse, Substance Abuse, Animal Death, Complicated Relationships, Pre-Slash, Denial of Feelings, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Implied Rape, Campbell has mild ASPD and is self aware enough to try and be better, the non-con is NOT Campbell, didn’t add an official warning because it is the aftermath only, yes it is the party becca mentioned and there will be a warning in the notes of that chapter, Campbell/Harry, Campbell/Elle.

Word Count: 4601 (chapter 5/5).

Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || AO3

Then again, they do say that things get worse before they get better.

For whatever reason, Becca stopped talking to Campbell. He tried to text her to see if she was alright, but his number was blocked. He tried to talk to her, but she kept on walking. It would have been all too easy to get pissed off over it, but he shrugged and carried on with life. Perhaps she was embarrassed, or ashamed. Perhaps she wanted to pretend it never happened. Maybe it had been a really bad high. Who knew? But she wanted nothing to do with him, either way, and he didn't waste his time on people that obviously wanted him gone. Caring cost too much energy for that.

The end of the school year play was an adaptation of the film Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead. Cassandra, of course, decided to try out. It was more surprising that Harry tried out, too. Naturally, they both got the lead roles. And why wouldn't they? Cassandra had always been an amazing actress, and now that Harry had cleaned up his image to make himself the cute goody-two-shoes co-captain of the debate team in order to be more appealing to Kelly, it made sense that he'd charm his way in.

Campbell didn't need to worry about that. He got recruited to help with the set, and that was fine. It was something to pass the time, as always, and Elle was often there to help with choreography. It was a nice, long distraction. By the time rehearsals were over, they had two weeks left until prom and three until graduation; it was so close to being over that Campbell could taste it, and damn it was good. The play itself would shave one week off, and everyone would be too busy going bananas over prom that they wouldn't have time for much idle gossip.

Perfect.

Or, at least, it would have been perfect. Just before the opening night of the play, something began to smell. Literally. Campbell was hanging out with a few of the drama club kids he'd met through the play, the five of them sharing a few orders of fries after a long day of getting the stage ready for the big event. They were on their way out when Campbell caught a whiff of what smelled like rotting flesh. He gagged, covering his nose with his sleeve, and soon the other teen were coughing as well.

"What the fuck is that?" demanded Elaine, a chunky girl with bright pink hair, ripped jeans, and an MCR shirt. "Jesus christ, Henry, I told you not to go for the chili fries."

Henry, a scrawny blond, made a noise of complaint. "It's not me!"

"The wind is coming from the northeast," Campbell interrupted as everyone began to blame each other. "It's probably in the wood somewhere. A sewer leak or something."

Everyone quieted down and agreed, but the smell only got worse and worse as the evening went on. The next morning, Campbell and Sam came downstairs to find their living room filled up with people. Their parents, Harry's mother, Aunt Amanda and Uncle Jim, a few other influential members of town... and in front of them all, their other uncle, Rogers. Frequently heard blustering on about some damn thing, usually something racist, he wasn't anyone Campbell had any desire to be around. But there he was, shouting about the smell and what to do about it.

Campbell tuned it all out and made breakfast for himself, slipping out the door and heading to school before he was noticed. The smell was, in fact, terrible. Students were whispering theories to each other all day. Campbell heard that the smell was a dead whale washed up on the coast and the wind was carrying the smell, that it was a terrorist attack, that it was ghosts coming to haunt the town for some misdeed, it was meth gone wrong... But in the end, there were no answers. Just a constant, unyielding reek that seemed to be coming from everywhere.

At the very least, the first night of the play went off without a hitch. Even if it smelled like a dead skunk basted with cow farts outside, Cassandra and Harry were beautiful, witty, and gave a flawless performance. No one really payed attention to the fact that there was a town meeting among the adults the next day; Campbell overheard his mother talking to his father about it, and how Uncle Rogers had contacted some guy named Pfeiffer to get rid of the smell.

Campbell flopped on Harry's bed as Harry dug around his closet for a suit to wear to prom. "Who the hell has a job in smell removal? Is that a thing?"

"Don't know, and who cares? As long as I can go back to eating without everything tasting faintly like septic tank, that's all I care about."

Whatever the Pfeiffer guy was about, the day after the town meeting, the smell did vanish as quickly as it had come. For short time, things went back to normal. Campbell stayed home-- you've seen one night in a play, you've seen them all, in his opinion-- to cook mushroom carbonara while everyone else was out. If nothing else, he knew how to make a good pan of noodles, and it gave him time to think about asking Elle to prom. A sort of asinine affair, something he and Cassandra agreed on, but it was the last big thing of high school. Maybe it was worth a shot.

On the last night of the play, the smell returned. It was even worse than before, so strong that it stung their eyes and made some of the younger kids choke; the adults called yet another emergency meeting, and this time, it was decided that the EPA would be contacted. Until then, all students 16 and over would be sent away on a camping trip until the smell was removed. An exciting prospect in Campbell's mind, considering his family had never been camping his whole life. A whole weekend in the middle of nowhere? Roasting marshmallows, hiking, swimming, freaking Allie out with spooky stories? Cool.

"Mom and dad wanted to know if you got your toothbrush," Sam signed as they stood on the school lawn, everyone waiting for the buses to pick them up. "Did you?"

"Tell them to get fucked."

Sam stared. Campbell forced a cheerful smile and headed off to go wait elsewhere. He was standing at the curb when he heard someone approaching; he turned his head, ready to tell Sam to leave him alone, when Campbell realized it was Grizz heading his way. He was pale, his gait fast and jaw tight as he glanced around. Huh. Weird. The football player never really seemed nervous about much.

"Hey Campbell," Grizz greeted. "I have a question for you."

"I'm flattered, but I'm already asking someone to prom."

Narrowing his eyes, Grizz glared at him. "Hey. No, it's... Did you tag the wall of the church last night?"

"What?" Campbell blinked. "I'm no fan of Christianity, but no. I didn't tag the church with anything. Why?"

"Just wondering. There's some creepy Bible quote on one of the outside walls. Just thought maybe you'd know something about it."

"Someone's probably just dicking with us, man."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

There wasn't much time to debate it. Cassandra and her gaggle joined them at the curb, all of them eagerly chattering at Grizz, who seemed to be the group Boy Scout and everyone wanted camping advice. Five school buses pulled up soon after, and everyone began to pile on. One of the few places left on the bus was next to Elle; she had a look on her face that was positively icy, but he decided to take the chance anyways.

Campbell rested his hand on the seat and nodded to the empty space next to her. "Hey, I'm Campbell. Do you mind if I sit here?"

Elle glanced up at him. She didn't smile, didn't speak, but she shrugged a little and moved over enough to make room.

"Excited for the trip?"

"Not especially. I prefer indoor plumbing. You?"

"I don't know. It might be an adventure."

"An adventure, huh? From what I hear, you make plenty of your own excitement."

"Oh? Where'd you hear that?"

"I just pay attention."

Campbell leaned a little closer. She didn't flinch away, but she was watching him with a cautious intensity he hadn't seen from many others before. "It's too bad we've been going to school together all this time, and never really talked, don't you think?"

"What is there for us to talk about?"

"Dance, maybe. How many years did you do ballet before you moved here?"

"You know about that?"

"I pay attention, too."

That earned him the tiniest of smirks. "Okay, smartass. What else do you know about me?"

"Your family moved here from New York when you were about twelve. You tried to make friends with Lexie and her goon squad, but they ignored you and ever since then you've kinda just been alone. You spend most of your time reading, or playing the piano."

"Piano."

"Junior year, we had math together and Gelstein let us listen to music during tests." Campbell placed his fingers on the back of the seat in front of him, moving them along like he was tapping on invisible keys. "You'd move your fingers along to the music, but you thought no one noticed because you sat in the back."

"Ohh, you've got a good eye. Yeah, I can play the piano. But I feel like that's cheating a little. You sat right next to me."

"That's true. I also know that you eat all the green M&Ms first, and that is not something I found out sitting next to you."

Elle leaned back and arched her eyebrows. "You know, some people might considered that level of observation a little creepy."

"Do you think it is?"

"I don't know yet."

"Think you'll know in time for prom?"

"Well, how about this." She was smiling now, and the corners of her eyes crinkled a little. "Ask me when this trip is over."

A fair enough deal. They spent the rest of the morning discussing music, art, and entertainment; Campbell had to stop and let Elle ramble from time to time, though he noticed she did the same and wondered if it was for the same reason. He wasn't used to talking, to the point where he was getting winded. They had similar enough tastes, as far as modern music was concerned, and a similar view on politics. He liked modern dance, while she liked the more traditional forms, but it was still a shared interest.

They continued talking until the sun set and the bus fell silent, with students falling asleep as the bus ride continued well into the night. Elle slumped over near midnight, resting her head on his shoulder. She yawned, content. "This is fun. How come we've never talked before?"

"I don't know." Campbell allowed her to nestle close. He wanted to stroke her hair, but he kept his hands to himself. He didn't want to scare her by being too much, too fast. "I guess I was scared to approach you."

"Why?"

"Because you're pretty, and I'm trouble."

Ella closed her eyes, voice muffled as she drifted off to sleep. "Maybe I'm trouble, too."

Cute, but it was hard to imagine. Not because she was a girl or because she was small-- he'd seen a 4'11" girl take down a two hundred and fifty pound football player with one well aimed kick to the dick-- but because he'd never heard a single bad word about her from anyone who mattered. Well, who knew. Maybe she had a rap sheet from back home in New York. Campbell smiled a little, falling asleep himself soon after.

He had no clue how much time had passed when the school bus jerked to a halt. He stirred, blinking as the lights on the bus flickered back on. Everyone was murmuring, trying to figure out what was going on. Were they there? It was supposed to be a twelve hour ride, including breaks along the way, but they had left at three in the evening and the time on his phone said it was only a little past one in the morning.

"Change of plans," the bus driver said. His tone was flat. Bored. "Rock slides. The road is closed. You're back home."

The murmurs turned into sounds of disbelief. Campbell stood as the bus doors opened, making his way out along with everyone else. He stopped on the school lawn, and stared out into the darkness; there was no one there, no one besides the other students, and the weird smell was gone. It couldn't have been fixed that fast. The useless government never did anything fast, and it hadn't even been a full day yet.

"The fuck," he muttered as the buses all pulled away and left. "What is this?"

Ella stood next to him, frowning. "Strange. That's what."

Everyone began texting, calling. Campbell tried his father's number, knowing Sam was probably going to call their mother. It rang, and didn't stop ringing. No answer. No voicemail, even. He glanced around. He could see the worry and panic on everyone else as they seemed to be reaching similar results. No one was answering. Something was obviously wrong. With the smell gone, he wondered if it really had been a gas leak, and now everyone was fucking dead. Only one way to know for sure.

Plastering a smile on his face, Campbell looked to Sam and shrugged like it was no big deal. Make it seem like everything was fine. No need to freak out and start some kind of mass riot. "Well, I'm going home."

Sam grabbed his arm. His eyes were wide, and he was obviously at that freak out point already. "You're not going to wait for me?" he whispered, not bothering to even sign.

Campbell made a quick sign. "Hurry up, then."

He kept walking, and soon enough he heard footsteps trailing behind him. They walked in silence for a bit, before Sam signed to him. "Where do you think our parents are?"

"Home. Asleep."

"Do you think that's all?"

"Yeah." Campbell didn't believe it for a second, but Sam didn't need to know that right then. "Probably."

When they made it home, the cars were still there. All the lights were out inside. Campbell went in first, calling out to their parents, but there was no answer. Campbell and Sam exchanged a look; Sam's lips pursed, knowing without any words passing between them what the look meant. They were alone. Campbell searched downstairs, then headed upstairs. He didn't even care that Sam was right on his heels. It meant that they could both confirm at the same time that they were, in fact, alone in the house.

"No note," Sam said. "No message on the phone. Where could they be?"

Campbell frowned. He didn't have a damn clue what to tell his brother, but then their phones both began to blow up. Campbell looked at his, hoping for the first time in forever that it was their parents, but it was Harry. His mother was gone. Kelly's parents, too. No one could reach anyone, and their data was all knocked out.

Probably from the storm, Campbell texted back.

Yeah, Harry answered, and did the storm take all our parents too?

A good question. Suddenly he had texts from Elle and Cassandra, even Allie, asking where he and Sam were and could they find anyone. Cassandra finally texted for the two of them to meet her and everyone else back at the school. ASAP.

"Are you gonna go?" Sam asked.

It wasn't even really worth thinking about. Of course he was going to go, if only so he could get some idea of where things were heading. People were gonna start wigging out, and Campbell knew history well enough to know that a bunch of teenagers alone and afraid never meant anything good. And maybe someone, somewhere, had actually found something. Campbell nodded to Sam, and they both headed out to meet with Cassandra.

By the time they got to the school, a crowd had formed. Not everyone, and mostly seniors, but enough for Campbell to know it'd get ugly if the impromptu meeting didn't go well. Elle was there; she came over and stood at his side, one arm crossed in front of her chest and the other tangled up in her hair, her bottom lip pouting out a little. She opened her mouth to speak, but then someone else-- one of the football players, loud and brash-- yelled out.

"Who decided we needed a flash mob?"

Cassandra stepped out of the shadows. She stood on the other side of Campbell, pulling herself tall. "I did."

"What the fuck, Cassandra?"

"Better than 200 people sending texts. Has anyone been able to reach anyone?" she asked. The crowd was either silent, or mumbled a negative. "No one? Okay. Well, there's... there's definitely a simple explanation."

A voice Campbell didn't recognize yelled out. "Like what?"

"Um. They, uh." Cassandra glanced at Campbell. He said nothing, hell, he didn't even move; if anyone thought he was influencing her, they'd never listen. "They were evacuated, after we left. And there was a miscommunication, and we were brought back here by mistake."

"Someone would still answer a phone," Kelly pointed out.

"Maybe they're asleep. I don't know, maybe they some place with no reception. They're in a shelter with... with no reception, or something. In the morning, someone will answer a phone."

Goddamn it. Cassandra, cool and collected Cassandra, was losing it. Standing this close to her, Campbell could tell that she was shaking. Not much, but enough that Campbell felt a spark of worry. They were supposed to be the reasonable ones. Cassandra was valedictorian, disliked and unpopular but vocal and well-known in their senior class. If Cassandra lost it, the rest wouldn't be far behind.

"Maybe it's not safe for us to be here, if they all left."

"A couple hours isn't gonna make a difference. We'll figure this all out in the morning. Right now, we should just... uh, go home. Yeah, we should go home. And anyone who doesn't want to, uh, be alone can come back to our house. Right?"

Allie smiled when Cassandra looked to her. "Sure."

"Is that your advice, Cassandra?"

It had to be Harry that challenged her. Campbell cursed under his breath, and resisted the urge to strangle him. Cassandra and Harry always had been rivals, butting heads over everything and fighting for power at every turn, with Cassandra usually emerging victorious. But what about now, when people were scared and tensions were climbing?

"Yeah. Yeah, Harry, yeah, just go to sleep."

Harry rolled his eyes, but people began to disperse. Well, some people. The majority stayed put, hovering around closer to Harry and the jock brigade; they were whispering about the local liquor store, and Campbell took the moment to sidle over to Cassandra while everyone else seemed distracted.

"Do you honestly believe any of that?" he wondered, lowering his voice.

Cassandra shook her head. She took a breath, but it was already all too clear that she was out of her depth. "I have to, right now. It won't do any good tonight to think about it too much. We need to all go home, get some rest, and see what tomorrow brings."

"You know as well as I do that if we don't start preparing for the worst now, tomorrow it's gonna hit and this whole place is gonna go all Lord of the Flies."

"What the hell do you think happened?"

"Cassie, haven't you noticed anything else, besides our missing families?"

"The smell."

"Yeah, the smell. How are you gonna explain that to them? Or did the smell go to a shelter with no reception, too?"

Biting her lip, Cassandra looked at the crowd gathering around Harry. Before she could say anything else, Allie came prancing up, a cheeky smile on her face. "Cassandra. Campbell." His name was said like it was something disgusting, and her smile hardened just a bit. "I guess the guys are planning to raid the liquor store and have a party. Coming?"

"Really?" Cassandra sighed. "No way. I'm going to head home and try to figure this out. Please don't burn anything down."

Allie grinned and made her way back to her friends. Cassandra, Gordie, and their friend Bean headed off towards home. Campbell knew it'd be for the best to just leave, but he could see that Sam was staying, and Elle was watching him expectantly. Harry was waving them both over, and Campbell sighed. Might as well. Despite how bizarre it all was, the idea of not having to race home by ten and play Good And Normal Son with his parents was appealing.

"What was that about?" Elle asked. Her tone was light, but her eyes were sharp. "With you and Cassandra?"

"Oh, just cousin bickering. How about this party, huh?"

It started as just a bunch of them hanging out on the front yard of the church, with beers getting passed around. Campbell and Elle camped out in a quieter corner, each with their own drink. But within fifteen minutes, Clark had discovered that the church doors were open. It seemed wrong. So, so very wrong. That's what made it fun. Campbell smirked as people texted their friends, brought more liquor, and rigged up some music. The air was just vibrating with bass and the cheers of about a hundred drunk, high teenagers. It was blasphemous, and oh, they were all loving it.

"Can you imagine the looks on their faces?" Campbell laughed with Elle as he downed another cup of alcohol. "Those stuck up fucks would piss themselves."

Elle answered, but her voice was muffled. Far away. His vision was dimmer around the edges and he felt good; he grabbed Elle by the hand and led her out to where people were dancing. Harry's shitty little pity parties had never appealed to him much, and certainly not the stiff swaying back and forth of school dances with their parent-approved music, but this? This was something new, different. They could do anything and they weren't going to get caught. Not yet. The cats were away, and they were all a bunch of fucking rats ready to play.

At least, that's what Campbell thought, but after people started pouring beers off the second story, Elle retreated into an empty stairway. Campbell followed. A bad idea, in hindsight, but they'd been having a good time. Hadn't they? She had tucked herself into a corner, wiping beer off her skin and wringing it from her hair; Campbell stepped closer, smiling.

"I don't know, I think you look kinda hot this way."

Elle didn't look at him. "Yeah, well, I don't really care what anyone else thinks right now."

"Hey. Why are you spoiling all the fun?" Campbell asked. She didn't say anything, just giving him an irritated look. "Is it like a ballerina thing? Act all cold? Is that..."

Without a word, she tried to push past him. Campbell grabbed her arm, but she spun around and fixed him with a glare. "Seriously?"

Campbell blinked. He didn't know exactly what was happening, but she was angry, and he let go of her arm. She kept walking, heading towards the exit. He sighed, mumbling under his breath so she wouldn't hear. "Your loss."

Everything after that was mostly a very long blur, ending in a wall of black. Not something he'd done in a while, getting completely wasted, and not something he was eager to repeat when he woke up the next morning with a throbbing headache. Light hurt, sound hurt. The worst part was that he just barely remembered what happened with Elle.

"Shit," he groaned as his phone blasted him with full brightness. Still, he managed to tap out a text to her. I'm sorry about last night. I'm an asshole and I was drunk. Forgive me? "Send."

It was the best he could do at that second. Campbell dragged himself out of bed, stumbling downstairs where Sam was making breakfast. Sam glanced at him, flipping some bacon. Campbell wanted to gag at the smell, but there was a small stack of toasted Eggo waffles on the counter, and he snagged one of those.

"No parents," Sam signed. "No calls or anything."

Campbell just waved his hand and sunk his face into his arm. He figured. There hadn't been any furious screaming about the state of the church, after all. Sam sat down at the table, and Campbell raised his head enough to watch him for a moment. Now that he was sober, he was back to being able to read people. He could see on Sam's face that Sam was scared. He kept eyeing Campbell, then looking away, and shifting like his body just didn't want to sit still. His body was turned away. Closed off. Insecure. He didn't like being alone with Campbell.

Well, who did anymore, really?

His phone buzzed. He hoped it was Elle, but it was from Harry. Campbell tapped on the notification, and stared at the text. Get to the bridge. NOW.

Sam's phone went off next. "Becca wants me at the bridge outside of town."

Please, a second text read. I'm scared.

Harry had never said that, not in all the years they'd been friends. Campbell stuffed another waffle in his mouth, and threw on his flannel shirt. "Let's go."

It took almost twenty minutes to jog there. Sam kept up, thankfully. Campbell wasn't about to wait around when Harry was reduced to begging. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his stomach more than ever. The closer he got, the more he could see there was a small crowd formed. Cassandra, Allie, Becca, Will. Gordie, Bean, Kelly. Luke, Clark, Grizz, Harry. Helena. Sam went to his friends, who were sitting by the railing of the bridge; Campbell went to Harry, who was crowded around his far with the jocks and Helena.

"What's going on?" Campbell hissed, pulling Harry off to the side. "You look ready to pass the fuck out."

Harry just pointed. Campbell followed the line of sight. Trees. Trees had completely demolished the train tracks leading out of town. They just... ended. Campbell went to turn back to Harry, and noticed the same thing had happened to the road, too. He rubbed his eyes; maybe he was still drunk, or someone had slipped him something. But no. It was like a wall of forest.

Harry spoke, only just audible. "It's like that the whole way around." He was breathing faster, his voice trembling faintly. "We tried the internet, Bean tried to call 911. Nothing. There's no one out there. We're trapped."

Campbell reached out, resting his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry leaned into the touch ever so slightly. Adults and the younger kids, gone. The smell, gone. A natural barrier, cutting them off from every escape route, and they were-- for the moment-- alone. How? He couldn't fathom, but how didn't exactly matter at the moment. What mattered was that this was reality. Somehow, some way, they were going to have to survive it.

They were worse than trapped.

They were completely, truly, screwed.

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