#last week i found out the guy doesn’t know what an adjective is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ppersonna · 4 years

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tempestuous - kth | m

tem·pes·tu·ous - adjective - characterized by strong and turbulent or conflicting emotion

↳ summary- There’s no one who riles you up more than Kim Taehyung, your best friend’s brother. He knows exactly how to make you fly off the handle.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 6.8k

↳ pairing- taehyung x reader

↳ genre- smut, minor angst i guess in the form of fighting, this is one big pile of smut, there’s some fluff too

↳ warnings- yikes where to begin. angry sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don’t be like dis), slapping, spanking, pain kink, dom/sub elements, facefucking, really rough sex, finger sucking, derogatory names, uhhh name calling, hate sex, tae is fuckin nasty yall im thriving

↳ a/n- I HAD TO REUPLOAD bc tumblr sucks lol well folks. here we are. i was given a prompt by @ladyartemesia so i blame her. as for tae, he really came for me this week and completely wrecked me, love that for me. i really popped off here and it’s only edited by me so i’m SORRY if there’s a lot of mistakes. fun fact i actually wrote almost 10k of another version of this but it frustrated me so badly i scrapped it lmao 🤡 HERE WE GO! Enjoy! feel free to send in your requests and i promise to try and get it done for you!

Kim Taehyung could only be described in a few words.

Infuriating, bothersome, vexing.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, suave.

Absolutely, inherently maddening.

And you hate how much you absolutely melt underneath his gaze, the way your heart leaps into your throat with a single word. Your body, the ultimate betrayer, opens up to him as your brain screams to abort, reverse, go back to start and do not pass go.

Kim Taehyung is not just the bane of your existence, no. He’s the little brother of your best friend, Kim Namjoon. Joonie had been in your life since you were in first grade and he in second. Taehyung was your age, but you hit it off with the older boy and haven’t separated since. Your mothers joked that you would get married one day and continue on the Kim line. Until they found out that Namjoon was 1) bisexual and 2) hopelessly in love with, ironically, a man named Kim Seokjin. He reasoned to his parents that they would at least carry on the Kim name.

Where Namjoon was sweet, caring, and deeply compassionate towards you, Taehyung was his alter. Taehyung was brash, cocky and relished in watching you squirm, whether it be out of fury or the god forsaken sexual tension. All growing up, he was the one to pull your pigtails, trip you into puddles of mud, and tease you in front of your friends. Namjoon, ever the faithful companion, was always there to pick up the pieces of what Taehyung broke.

It’s been that way with Taehyung ever since. A constant tug of war with each other, both unwilling to give a single inch to the opponent.

Your relationship with Namjoon remained steadfast as ever. Namjoon eventually moved in with his now-husband, Seokjin, who easily settled into your life as an additional partner in crime. You spent most of your days and nights settled into the couch, snuggled somehow in between or next to one of the two men you cherished most. You had the two best friends you could ask for and a happy life, blissfully Taehyung-free.

Until it wasn’t.

A loud knock wakes you from an unexpected nap on Namjoon’s couch. Your eyes crack open against the glare of the sunlight streaming through the windows. It takes a moment to gather your surroundings. You recognize that you’re in Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, and judging by the silence, you’re definitely alone there. As you reach for your phone, the screen lights up the time. 5:34 pm. Well, shit. You remember eating brunch and drinking mimosas at noon with your best friends and then lying on the couch to watch Netflix. How had you fallen asleep for five hours? How did you not wake? What the fuck did Jin put in his mimosas?

The knock is insistent again, louder this time.

“Joon! Jin! it’s me! Open up!”

The voice sounds familiar in your sleep-addled mind, but not quite enough to pinpoint it. You push your limp body off the couch and wince at the feeling of sore muscles. Couch sleeping isn’t all it’s cracked up to be once you’re past the age of 25.

“Sorry, Namjoon isn’t here-,” You open the door to explain to the guest and you’re cut off.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You rub at your sleepy eyes and allow your vision to focus, only to feel your blood stand still in your veins.

Kim Taehyung. Of fucking course.

“What do you mean, why am I here? I’m always here,” you tut as you fold your arms to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes and holds up his hands, two suitcases clutched in each. Who the fuck carries 4 suitcases up three flights of stairs? Kim annoying ass Taehyung does, apparently.

“I’m moving in.” He pushes past you and into the living room.

Your mouth gapes open. Namjoon certainly didn’t tell you this. Taehyung looks back at chuckles at your reaction.

“I’m guessing your best friend didn’t tell you the happy news?”

You shut your mouth, quickly jumping back into composure. “No, he failed to mention that,” you sniff. “I thought you lived with your girlfriend in Gangnam? What was her name? Rose or whatever?”

Tae stiffens, just slightly for a moment, before he plasters back on the bravado. “Obviously not anymore. We broke up, she kept the apartment. Got tired of moping at my mom’s house and I told Namjoon I wanted to come back to the city.”

You feel a slight tug at your stomach, guilt, perhaps? You clear your throat. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He laughs as he sits on the couch, instantly throwing his feet onto the coffee table, like a heathen. “No, you’re not.”

“What do you mean, no I’m not? God, sorry for being polite!”

This, you reason, is why you can’t sustain longer than 5 minutes of civilized conversation with your best friend’s younger brother. He’s impossible.

He just smirks, and you know he loves the rise he gets out of you.

“Because I know you, and I know you don’t give a fuck about my love life.”

Au contraire. If only he knew just how much you gave a fuck.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t be nice to you!” you nearly stamp your foot in frustration but hold yourself back. That would be too good of ammo for him to use against you.

“Okay, fine,” he acquiesces. “Whatever helps you feel you’re a good person.”

You’re seeing red and you know you want to continue screaming at him but you will not stoop to his level.

“Christ, I haven’t seen you in months and you’re still an asshole,” you say as you grab your keys and shoes. “And also, Jin will kill you if he sees your feet on his coffee table.”

You whip yourself around and open the door to leave and hear him call over your shoulder.

“Good to see you too, doll! Love the hairstyle, by the way.”

You close the door with a growl leaving your throat. The absolute audacity of that man.

You stomp towards the elevator to take yourself to the ground level, when you catch your reflection in the shiny metal. Your hair is in what you can only lovingly call a complete hornet’s nest. It’s ratted and sticking out in places and you feel your cheeks burn. Your first reintroduction with Taehyung is with a fight AND with you looking like a fool.

This would not do. No, sir.

“Kim Namjoon!” you shriek into your cell phone. You’re awkwardly pressing it against your ear with your shoulder as you walk out of the convenience store under your apartment building with 3 bottles of soju and a six-pack of beer. You needed to drown your shame and sorrow, and fast.

“Hello, love of my life and moon of my stars,” your best friend replies and you can hear Seokjin chuckle in the background.

“No!” You chide, already cracking a beer open as you storm into your apartment building. “Don’t you Khal Drogo me, mister! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your fucking asshole brother was moving in with you?!”

Namjoon is silent and you can tell he’s wincing on the other end of the phone. “Oops?” He offers.

“Yeah, big oops! A heads up would have been nice! Like, ‘hey best friend, your worst enemy of all time is moving in today. Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep on my couch and wake up looking like Frankenstein’s ugly wife. Oh, and also my handsome boyfriend and I will just happen to not be there when he arrives’.”

By this time, you can tell Namjoon has put you on speakerphone because you can hear their rich laughter loud and clear. Rude bitches.

You stab your key code into your door and lock yourself in, chugging as much of the beer as you could handle.

“At least, even in her rants she thinks I’m handsome,” Jin gloats.

“I’m sorry babe,” Namjoon sighs as he finally calms down. “I didn’t know he would be there today. I just found out about it last night.”

You nibbled at your bottom lip, the annoying pit in your stomach feeling simultaneously guilty that he went through a breakup, unbridled joy that something brought him down a peg, and just a dash of excitement that he’s single now.

You let out a breath. “It’s okay, Joon. It just surprised me to see him.”

Jin butts in, “And because you have a big, fat, unresolved crush on him.”

“Jin!” You admonish. The couple laughs again and you roll your eyes, asking yourself why you put up with the two. “I do not!”

They both hum a non-committal answer, implying they don’t believe you in the slightest.

“Whatever. What are you guys doing, anyway?”

“We just got home from shopping. God, Jin looked so good in these jeans he tried on. I was actually just about to suck his coc-,”

“Kim Namjoon, do not finish that sentence! I do not wish to hear it!” You try to remain firm, but dissolve into giggles with the pair.

You could never stay mad at Namjoon long, even if his brother was the devil incarnate.

“Darling,” Jin calls through the phone. “I still expect to see you at our place tonight for our sleepover.”

Christ, you had forgotten all about your scheduled sleepover night. It was tradition and one of your favorite parts of your friendship with the couple. Jin, a literal chef, prepared a five star meal along with dessert for you while you binge watched Netflix and talked incessantly.

But you also usually slept in their spare bedroom. The exact one that Taehyung would be occupying.

“Fuck, while he’s there?”

“Oh suck it up,” Jin chides, like he’s your mother. “He’s probably not even going to leave his room. You’re not getting out of this. I’m making strawberry cheesecake.”

Your mouth waters at the idea of Jin’s famous cheesecake.

“Fine, but I get to lick the bowl and not Namjoon. Those are my terms.”

Namjoon squawked in defiance as Jin laughed. “I agree to your terms. Be at our place by 8.”

As you hung up the phone, you checked the time. 6:40. God, he hadn’t left you with much time to get ready, did he?

And you definitely needed to get ready. There was no way you were entering a room where Kim Taehyung exists looking like booboo the fool, not again.

Your fingers press the 6 digit passcode to Namjoon and Seokjin’s apartment, arms heavy laden with your bag of toiletries and pajamas, and a bag full of wine.

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce as you toe off your shoes and slide into the combined kitchen and living room.

You receive no reply, but greeted with the amused face of none other than the object of your filthiest dreams, Taehyung.

“Pet names already? We’re moving pretty fast, wouldn’t you say?” He asks you as he lounges at the kitchen table. He watches you open the fridge to set the wine, as comfortable in their home as you are in yours.

“Fuck off,” you grumble. “Where’s your brother?”

Tae seemed absolutely tickled by your disgruntlement. “I think they mentioned something about taking a shower. That was 20 minutes ago, though.”

“Great,” you sigh. “Those fucking horn dogs act as if they’re still newlyweds. We’ll be waiting awhile.”

You tug off your sweater, leaving you to remain in a fitted tank top and yoga pants. You tried to maintain a comfortable look as you dressed for the evening, while keeping in mind which leggings hugged your ass and showed off your toned thighs, and a tank top that dipped low to your cleavage. Okay, so maybe you had ulterior motives. You wanted to make up for your dreadful appearance earlier and make him squirm, payback for the years of him doing it to you.

You watch him as he lets his eyes roam your body, eying you like he wants to ravage you completely. You feel victorious… and also turned on. Fuck, you played yourself.

You flop onto the couch in a huff and Tae snorts before joining you.

“What’s so funny?” You eye him suspiciously.

“Nothing,” his smile feigns innocence. “I’m not allowed to laugh?”

You sniff in annoyance, not eager to fall for his tricks. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want, your highness.” Sarcasm drips from your voice and Tae finds it even more humorous.

“I see you’re still a sassy bitch.”

You gasp, audibly startled by his language and rise from the couch, fists clenched.

“I see you’re still a conceited dick!”

He rises to meet you where you stand, eyes boring into your own with his stupid sexy grin on his face. “I see you’re still not one to back down from a fight.”

You step closer, close enough to feel his breath on your face. Idly, you note it smells like peppermint and you move closer on reflex.

“Yeah? I see you’re still not one to avoid starting a fight in the first place!” you huff.

“Oh, I started it?”

“Yeah, you started it! You called me a bitch!”

You can’t believe this is happening. You feel as if you’re 6 again and fighting with him over a toy.

“A sassy bitch, actually,” he corrects, taking another step forward, bodies touching.

“Fuck you!”

“Only if you say please,” he quips before he closes the distance and presses his lips to yours in a scorching hot kiss.

There’s not even a moment of hesitation on your end, immediately pulling him even closer and wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing his tongue entrance to your mouth. Your body reacts to his instantly, as if it’s wired to respond to him and him only. Your mind was blank of anything except Tae, only Tae please, and you acted purely on instinct alone. And instinct was pulling him closer and begging, more, anything he could give.

The sound of laughter coming from the hallway pulls you apart, neither of you wanting to get caught by Namjoon or Jin. You stare at him, his lips are cherry red and slightly swollen and the image burns into your retinas. He has such pretty lips after you’ve kissed him.

“Oh hey! What’s going on here?” Namjoon asks as he notices the intense eye-battle you’re engaged in with his younger brother.

It shakes you out of the spell, eye contact broken and hypnosis halted.

“Just, errrr,” you falter to find the right words to explain the situation.

“Just getting reacquainted.” Tae sounds completely unaffected, as if the passionate kiss you shared with him seconds ago was but a distant memory. Asshole.

“I’m surprised you two haven’t thrown anything at each other yet,” Jin laughs. “Or thrown yourselves at each other.”

Both you and Taehyung whip to look directly at Jin.

“Her!?” Tae is incredulous. “Gross.”

You’ll never admit out loud that his words wound you.

“You’re an asshole, Taehyung,” you punctuate your words by turning away from him and towards Namjoon, who appears amused as ever.

“Ah, I love when my best friend and my little brother are screaming at each other. Feels like old times. Can one of you cry now to complete the moment?”

Taehyung grumbles under his breath, something you can’t catch, and stalks off to his room. The slam of his door reverberates in the apartment and Jin jumps and turns to yell down the hall at his brother-in-law.

“Yah! Don’t break my apartment! I still owe money on this!”

Despite Taehyung’s appearance every so often in the kitchen or living room, the rest of the night goes on with no annoying disturbances.

Jin spoils you and his husband with expensive food, and the best cheesecake you’ve ever eaten in your life. Plus, you’re given the bowl to lick clean despite a desperately adorable pout from Namjoon you were sure would persuade Jin.

You’re settled on the couch, snuggling in the middle of the couple as an action movie flickers across the big screen tv. Truthfully, you haven’t paid attention to a single thing happening, your thoughts entirely too absorbed in Taehyung and that deliciously infuriating kiss.

Why did he do it? You couldn’t comprehend his reasoning. Perhaps he was doing it to piss you off. He’s never angered you with that level of intimacy before, but you didn’t put it past him.

You’re surprised when the credits of the movie start rolling and Jin and Namjoon fake loud yawns.

“Oh man, I’m beat,” Namjoon lies.

Jin is quick to join. “Me too, I think I’ll pass out the moment I hit the pillow.”

You roll your eyes at the men. “Will you two please go fuck already, I know that’s what you’re going to do.”

Namjoon blanches, but Jin laughs and kisses your cheek. “Ah, my smart, beautiful and chaotic child,” he coos. He leans in to your ear, voice low to keep his husband from listening. “I don’t think I’m the only one in this house who’s going to get pounded into a mattress.”

He pulls back and winks at you, deftly ignores Namjoon’s confusion and sadness of being left out, and drags him to their bedroom with a loud ‘goodnight’.

You’re left to stew in your own emotions, which is never a good thing. Was the tension that obvious? You always assumed it had been one-sided, but the kiss befuddled you more than you’d like to admit.

It finally snapped in your mind, all the dots connecting. That’s why he did it.

He kissed you so you’d stew and simmer and eventually erupt, like you’re doing now. Taehyung knows you too well for your comfort.

You grab your bag of clothes and storm towards the bathroom to change, promising yourself to forget about the kiss and not give Taehyung what he wants.

Except you’re not very good at promises, especially to yourself.

You can’t say you’re excited to sleep on the couch again. While it’s a nice couch, it’s definitely not a bed and your back will pay the price tomorrow. You supposed it was better than the floor, but not by much.

After dressing in your pajamas, a purposefully picked out combination of tiny shorts and a sports bra in case Taehyung happens upon you, you return to your bed for the night in the living room.

Namjoon graciously left blankets and a pillow out for you, and you’re complaining internally about Taehyung the whole time you make yourself a spot to sleep. If it wasn’t for stupid Taehyung and his stupid existence, you’d be sleeping like a baby on the guest bed that you loved. But no, they relegated you to the couch like an animal.

Sleep was not in the cards tonight, it seems. You toss and turn and try to press at the cushions to move a lump around and get comfortable, but it’s all for naught. You’re wide awake and very, very uncomfortable. You didn’t understand how you fell asleep on this very couch earlier in the day. Maybe the mimosas you had at brunch with the couple had been helpful.

A thought crosses your mind. Alcohol. Maybe a nice glass of wine would help tuck you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep. A nightcap. Of course. You were angry at yourself for not thinking of it hours ago.

You slipped out of your disagreeable bed and into the kitchen, trying not to make a sound. Jin’s beloved kitchen was also an echo chamber of noise, even the slightest sound bouncing off its walls and amplifying it through the whole house. You still remember the way you jumped five feet in the air when Jin accidentally broke a plate. It sounded like a bomb explosion.

You bite your lip as you carefully pry the cabinet of wine glasses open, careful to not even allow a squeak of a hinge. You silently beg to stay silent and not wake anyone in the house. You didn’t want to be caught drinking wine at 2 am in the dark, that’s difficult to explain without looking like an alcoholic.

With glass in hand, you tiptoe the fridge to pull out the bottle of merlot, thinking the heavy red wine would be the best to get you sleepy and quick.

You tug the cork from the bottle and pour a healthy amount into the stemware with a smile. Liquid sleep. And you had done it without making a single sound. Perfection. The smell of the alcohol permeates through your nose as you lift the glass, placing it to your lips to take a sip.

“Wine at this hour?” the unexpected voice of Taehyung echos through the kitchen, making you yelp and jolting you hard enough that you drop the hard-earned glass of wine to the tile floor, red wine splashing as the sound of glass shattering is reverberating off the walls.

“Fuck!” You screech at the intruder. Taehyung doubles over, laughing as if he’s seen nothing funnier than what just transpired. “You asshole!”

You listen past Taehyung’s incessant laughter to ensure the owners of the apartment hadn’t awoken during the ruckus. You definitely did not want to face a tired and agitated Jin to tell him you shattered one of his Tiffany crystal goblets.

Beyond Tae, the house is silent and you’re thanking whatever god is listening for keeping your best friends asleep.

The wine is everywhere, spilling into the cracks of the tile and splattered on the walls. The crystal stemware is too; it shattered with such force that you see flecks of the shrapnel in all four corners of the room.

Tae wipes a tear from his face and you square a tempestuous look at him.

“Fucking help me! You made me drop it!”

Through snorts, he replies. “I didn’t make you do anything. You did that on your own.” Although he is arguing with you, he’s gingerly stepping into the kitchen and kneeling to pick up shards of glass.

“I wouldn’t have dropped it if you had come into the room like a fucking normal person,” you grit.

He collects the glass, the delighted grin on his face now permanent. He’s relishing in your annoyance, you know he is, and it burns you from the inside out.

“It’s not my fault you didn’t hear me.”

“You could have turned on the light! Why were you in the dark like a freak?” You’re grasping at straws, anything to pin this all on him. It would quell the fire in your belly to push it all onto him, make you feel as if you’ve won.

Taehyung levels a look at you. “And you weren’t also in the dark? Pouring a gallon of wine for yourself?”

Your cheeks flare red. Fuck, he definitely caught you there. You’re playing verbal poker with him and the hand you’re dealt falls flat compared to his royal flush. He grins, knowing he has you.

“Fuck you,” you snark, you go to insult when you’re backed into a corner.

“Ah, doll,” he winks. “We talked about that. Be careful what you wish for.”

The fire inside you is roaring to an inferno now, flames licking to your core. It’s a complicated mixture of anger and sexual energy. It’s infuriating that he’s able to make you feel every single emotion to the extreme. You hate that arguing with him turns you on, like it’s some perverse foreplay.

You moisten your lips with your tongue as you process his words, and Tae’s eyes hungrily track the appendage as it glides over your lips.

“Fuck. You.” You emphasize perfunctorily.

All thoughts of wiping up the mess are forgotten as Tae drags both you and himself off the floor and steers you to the living room, lips feverish against your own. He pushes you into the couch and tugs his shirt off, before replacing his lips to yours.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking hot when you’re a bitch,” he groans as he snaps the strap of your sports bra. “Seeing you get all worked up makes me so hard.”

He’s not wrong. You can see through his mesh basketball shorts that he’s sporting an impressive package, rock hard in its clothed prison.

“Yeah?” You bite at his lip.

“Hell yeah.” His hands work to the elastic band under your bust and tugs the offending material off, tits springing free as he throws it to the floor.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathes as he gets a good look at your chest.

You shake them gently, grinning as he watches them jiggle. “You like what you see?”

He smirks and pinches a nipple, wiping the coy smile off your face and turning it into a moan. “I like when you’re mouthy, but don’t push it.”

He lowers his head to the nipple he’s still pinching in his fingers, licking at it and replacing his fingers with his mouth. He’s moaning around the nipple, and you’re gasping for more. His hot mouth sucks at you, teeth nibbling and pulling it until you’re whimpering in delicious pain.

“Fuck!” He cries as he pops away from your nipple. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Your body warms at his words, arousal pooling between your legs. You’re sure that your thighs are drenched in your essence.

He slurps your neglected breast into his mouth, ensuring your nipples are equally abused. His tongue is skilled but his mouth is messy, saliva dripping all around your tit and it’s the hottest fucking sight you’ve ever seen.

He’s pulling away again and pinching both nipples with his hands simultaneously. “And you’re so fucking annoying.”

You’re pleading for more or to stop, you’re not sure. He continues.

“Mm, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re a good little bitch for me. Listening to every fucking thing I say.”

He releases your nipples, and you finally find the ability to focus again, staring directly at him.

“Oh, you think you’re that good?” you sass as you attempt to catch your breath. “Put your money where your mouth is.”

Tae grips your chin roughly, face inches away from yours with a sadistic grin. “You’re going to regret those words, baby.”

Instantly, he’s standing up and tugging his shorts down to let his cock spring free. Your brain misfires as you visually measure his cock and your mouth goes dry. He’s thick and long. The bulbous head is dripping pre-cum, begging you to slurp it up.

“How about I put my money where your mouth is,” he suggests as he grabs a fistful of your hair.

He teasingly rubs his cock on your lips and cheeks, makes you whimper with need. Your tongue is sticking out, desperate for him to lay it on you.

“Already so fucking greedy,” he grunts and in one motion, directs his dick into your open mouth. “I’ll fuck your throat, yeah? Greedy bitches love getting face fucked.” He is still for a beat more, eyes searching yours for consent and you nod with his cock still in your mouth. He winks, then begins a rapid pace, his cock fucking into your mouth and throat.

You’re sure you look like a goddamn mess with saliva dripping from your mouth as Taehyung punishes your throat with his thrusts. You gag and moan around him, and he tightens his grip in your hair as you see stars.

It’s indescribable. Never have you felt such pleasure from sucking cock, but Tae commands your entire body, willing you to drip with anticipation.

“My little fuck toy, god you feel so fucking good,” he hisses. “You’re gonna swallow my cum, baby.”

His hips are stuttering, he’s close, and you’re sucking him harder, cheeks pulling in harder to vacuum him in. The pressure makes him groan out loud.

“So good, so fucking good. Get ready for your prize, baby,” his voice cuts off in a gasp, as his cock twitches violently. His legs shake and he doesn’t hold back the moans of his orgasm, gasping as he feels rope after rope spill down your hot throat.

Your big doll eyes are twinkling up at him, lips still wrapped around his cock. Taehyung is sure it’s the hottest thing he’ll ever see in his lifetime. You on your knees, subservient to him and thriving for it.

“Mmm, I like it when your mouth is full like this,” he slowly pulls out of your mouth, albeit reluctantly. “Can’t talk back to me when you’re sucking my cock like a whore.”

You smile and stick out your tongue, pleased to show him you happily accepted his cum.

“Good fucking girl,” he coos as he grips your chin again. “Did you like my cum?”

You nod, brain fried from the heat of the room.

“Use your words,” he grits and grips your jaw harder. It’s enough to shock you into compliance.

“Y-yes! Fuck, I love your cum, Tae.” Your words are breathy and raspy, throat raw from his barrage.

“I knew you would, filthy slut. Sit on the couch.” He orders and you’re quick to scurry and sit on the makeshift bed you made.

His hands are tugging down your shorts quickly. No teasing or seduction here, not now. You lift your hips, and he throws them aside. Your legs close on reflex, making him growl.

“Do not hide yourself from me.” His tone is dark and you can’t help but shiver as you open yourself up to him. You want to talk back, want to fight and bite at him, but you’re quickly losing the ability to even speak, and you’re aching for him.

“Where’s my mouthy little bitch? You’re awfully quiet. Did I finally break you?” He teases, pressing your legs upward, knees to your ears. It’s pornographic how on display you are for him, soaking wet cunt front and center.

“The great Taehyung thinks he can break me with his cock,” you mewl, mustering all the false confidence you can. You’re lying through your fucking teeth and you both know it, but you continue. “You’ll have to do more than that.”

Your pussy is quaking with need now, desperate for a single touch. His hands maintain purchase on the backs of your thighs, holding them up.

“There she is,” he bites at the flesh of your leg closest to him which makes you jerk in his hold. “Gonna fuck the brat right out of you.”

He removes a hand from your thigh and you’re quick to pick up the slack, holding the thigh in place to maintain his open show of your pussy.

“Try me,” you murmur, and you’re instantly regretting your words as a harsh slap descends and lands square on your cunt.

You nearly scream, pain flooding your wanton pussy, before turning into delicious pleasure that stings and tingles right at your clit. It sizzles, and warmth blooms where his hand was.

“That’s for not believing me.” His eyes are feral and you want to bottle this memory forever.

Another slap has your legs trembling, eyes rolling back as the burn turns to a low heat. You’re dripping your wetness down onto the couch and Jin will kill you, but you don’t care.

“That was for calling me a dick,” he smirks.

Smack.

Tears spring in your eyes as the slap brings more pleasure than pain, desperately close to your edge.

“Look at you, you could cum just from this, couldn’t you?”

“F-fuck! Yes, please, I need more, please!” Your cunt is clenching around nothing, desperate for friction and leaking out of you like a faucet. Taehyung marvels at you, legs spread so far, with a cunt weeping with arousal for more. He can’t wait to dive in there, but he’s not finished with you yet.

“More? I don’t know if you deserve more, baby, you’ve been awfully mean to me,” he tsks, breathing hot air on your clit, making you whine.

“P-please! I’m sorry!” You’re sure you will black out with how desperately you need him. You need him more than you need oxygen.

“Beg.”

You’re quick to submit. Thoughts of fighting back are long gone, you’re his wanton little slut now.

“Please, please! Pleaseeeee, make me cum! I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” He asks with an arch of his eyebrow.

You’re nodding wildly, gazing at him with desperate, watery eyes.

“Anything, I need you so f-fucking bad it hurts!”

By the time the words leave your lips, he’s thrusting two fingers into your cunt viciously, fingering you ferociously. He arches them, rubbing against your spongy g-spot and making you scream. He knows you’re close, knows you only need one little push off the edge. He plays your body like a skilled practitioner.

“Cum on my fingers, baby. Let me see my greedy little bitch milk my fingers.”

Your body and mind react accordingly, deep down you know your body is owned completely by him, all his. Your orgasm explodes and you think you actually scream, your vision is black and your hearing goes silent for a moment as you cum harder than you have in your life. You’re squeezing his fingers with your pussy so tight and Taehyung is gently licking all the juices from his hand with his fingers still inside you.

It takes time to descend from the separate plane of existence Taehyung sent you too, but you come back and watch as he laps at the liquid of your cunt and on his hand like it’s a vital necessity. His fingers remain in your walls, and he refuses to break eye contact with you. You’re positive you could cum again from the sight.

“My little cockslut tastes so good, just how I like,” he tells you tenderly. “Like cherries, so sweet. My little cherry.”

Your cunt is aching and warming back to life as he pulls his fingers out of you. The loss is immense and you’re whimpering for more.

“Ah, ah,” he hushes you. “No whining. You’ll take what I give you. Suck my fingers clean. Taste yourself.”

He presses his fingers into your mouth, earning him a sigh, the taste of you filling your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his fingers and suckle each one to ensure your tongue laves the entire surface.

“Fuck,” he whispers and it’s his first crack in his steel reserve. “Needy.”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth and presses against you to kiss. It’s gentle, sweet, and nothing compared to the man assailing your pussy with slaps moments ago. It thrills you just the same and you return in kind, threading your hands in his wavy hair.

He pulls away and presses his forehead against yours, a moment of gentleness you actively welcome.

“This little cunt ready for me?” He whispers and you’re whimpering your reply.

“Please, fuck me. I need you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and chaste, before he pulls away and slides down to attach those same sinful lips to your pussy.

It’s so unexpected you flinch and manage a cry as his tongue slurps up more of your delicious essence and his mouth moves to suckle on your clit. You’re not sure where the fuck he learned these tricks, but you know now you will never let him go.

“Taehyung!” You cry at the sensation. “Fuck!”

After receiving the reaction he was desperate for, he slips his tongue into your walls deep and gathers as much of you as he can, before he’s pulling back and swallowing you down.

“I couldn’t resist. Your cunt was made for me to devour.”

He doesn’t allow for a response as he throws your legs over his shoulders and lines himself up at your core.

“Condom?” He asks you, and you level a quick look at him.

“I don’t live here! I don’t have any!” You’re savage, terrified he’ll pull his cock away when all you want and can think about is the way he’ll feel pounding into you.

“Don’t be rude, baby,” he reminds you with a swat to your ass. “I’m clean, promise. You?”

You nod quickly, reveling in the spank’s tingle. “Same. I have an IUD too,” you sigh. Thank god for medical birth control implants.

“Good. You’re the only pussy I’m gonna fuck from now on,” he promises. You know you must talk about this later, when you’re thinking rationally and not with your aching pussy.

Your heart stutters and leaps into your throat but all is forgotten as he plunges into your tight heat.

“Ohhhhh shit, ahhh,” he gasps. “Baby, you’re so fucking tight and wet.” He’s on the verge of whining, becoming just as needy and greedy as you. He wastes no time in setting a pace.

His cock fills you completely, his angle allowing him to go as deep as he can, pressing the beginning of your cervix. This is surely what heaven feels like. It feels like the completeness you feel with Taehyung fully sheathed inside you.

It comes alive with flames and explosions as he fucks you, hips pistoning to plunge in and out of you with tenacity. He fucks you like he laces every single thrust with more, more than just sex. He fucks you with purpose.

You’re moaning like a pornstar now, high pitch wails and gasps and breathy moans are all you can manage. “Taehyung, yes! Feel so g-g-good!”

“That’s right baby, scream my fucking name. Make sure all the neighbors know who fucking ruined you,” he nearly spits, cock thrusting into your core at an impossible speed. “I want you to tell all of Korea who owns you. Who owns this tiny little cunt?”

The wind leaves you, and you’re gasping for air, gaping mouth open as you try to reply. It takes him fucking into you harder a few times before you feel it rush back into you.

“You, Taehyung! You! Fuck, I love your cock!”

His thumb rubs at your engorged clit, allowing it the friction it seeks. He bends forward and wraps his other hand around your throat, squeezing.

Losing air combined with the friction on your clit has you keening, so close to the edge. You try to babble his name but nothing comes out.

“Look at my pretty little slut taking my cock so well,” he praises. “You have the greediest pussy, don’t you? You need my cock daily, baby. Need to put my mouthy bitch in her place, remind her who’s in charge.”

He slows his pace but his thrusts are punishing, fucking into you as hard as he can. Your orgasm is climbing so impossibly high.

“F-fuck!” You gasp as he releases his grip on your neck. “Gonna cum! Please let me cum!”

“Yeah baby, cum for me. Cream your greedy pussy all over my cock.”

The world stops spinning as you hit the height of your climax and plunge down. Your vision goes black and your body is quivering and convulsing nearly as hard as your cunt is. Taehyung hisses at your walls sucking him in, as if you’re begging for his cum, begging for more.

“Fuck, good girl, baby, holy shit,” he’s breathless and so close.

You’re overstimulated, boneless, but he wrought two of the best orgasms you’ve ever felt in your life and you’ll be damned if you leave him high and dry. You bite your lip as you move with him, hips pounding against each other. His face is scrunched up and you know he’s close when he’s stuttering on his words. You take over for him.

“Please cum in me baby, please. Fill me up. I’m yours, baby, mark my little cunt as yours.” You don’t know where it’s coming from, but you keep it going. It feels as natural as fucking him does. “Please, Taehyung!”

At the sound of his name leaving you in a whine, he spirals down his own completion. He feels his cock pulse as he empties his load into you, your walls still reverently beckoning for him. He’s calling out your name, grasping at your tits as he finishes and you’re smiling from ear to ear. Your pussy is warm with his seed and you’re positive it’s the way you want to feel every single night.

“Holy fuck,” Taehyung rasps as he pulls his cock out of you. He thrills as he watches his cum follow, slipping out your folds and down your thigh. “I definitely marked you.”

You hum in reply, finally allowing yourself to soak in the haze of orgasmic bliss. Tae presses his head to yours again, kissing you sweetly.

“Come sleep in my bed?” He asks. He means more behind it. He wants to ask you to sleep in his bed every night, stay with him every day, be the one he grows old with. He knows there’s still more to talk about, wounds of the past to heal, but now you’re with him, and he knows he’ll work through anything.

You nod, and kiss him again, understanding his hidden meaning laced in his words.

A sly smile spreads across his face. “Last one to bed has to take the blame for the wineglass,” he teases. Your head spins as if you’ve got whiplash. He can switch from dominating to sensitive to the little shit he is so quick.

“Hey! No fucking fair! You fucked my ability to run out of me!”

“Shouldn’t have been such a sassy bitch,” he winks before he tears away towards his room.

“Taehyung, you’re an asshole!” You call as you limp your way behind him.

From behind Joon and Jin’s door, a critical voice bellows, “YAH! I’ll kill you if you got your jizz on my couch! And what is this I heard about my glass!!? HEY! Those are TIFFANY. CRYSTAL. THE DISRESPECT!”

You slip into Taehyung’s bed and wrap yourself around him, the two of you gasping with mischievous giggles.

Kim Taehyung will always be the one who knows how to drive you wild. He’ll always aggravate and infuriate you, send you reeling.

But now you didn’t think you minded it at all.

#bangtanarmynet #maknaesmutsociety #btswritersnet #btswriterscollective #kwritersworldnet #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts v #bts fic #bts smut #bts fanfic #kim taehyung #v

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leahseclipse · 3 years

Text

Detention time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Summary: They're high school students, Reader gets a detention and Dean, not wanting to be alone, joins them.

Warnings: Some insults, but nothing bad. Just two baddies idiots fooling around in school.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: My very first spn fic,,, I'm really excited about this!!!!! Although, a person with whom I talk of spn, would be surprised that my first fic isn't with Sam as he's my fav 😂, don't get me wrong, I love Dean too, but Sam- 👁️v👁️

"y/l/n, detention." A male voice announced which had basically become the anthem of the class considering how many times it was told, to her, or even, by the other troublemaker of the class, known as: Dean Winchester.

They both were called the detention duo, whether they'd have detention the same day or not, they'd always somehow have one in the same week.

But that day, only y/n had gotten one. The reason? Calling the teacher a moron, incompetent -and a bitch-, but she didn't hear it.

She'd probably have a nice trip to the principal, along with a possible one week exclusion.

She was...well known for her original words that would definitely be followed by a detention as soon as it was told.

Let's say that...she had her own behaviour that would make her ‘unique’.

This could kind of be seen as a show to the class, mostly from y/n's side, as all the teacher could say was a bit of complaining, and the famous sentences well known, to annouce the detention.

It was definitely funnier when coming from the teacher y/n just called a moron.

For Dean, it'd depend.

Sometimes it would be because he had called them a pussy, or just because the teacher had decided that he had annoyed them too much for its liking.

He'd even have the talent of getting detention when he was out of class.

So, thinking it'd be fun to bring back the detention duo, Dean decided to add his own spice to the party, doing it with another one, who hated him as much he hated y/n.

Dean would usually annoy him on purpose, but that time he just did it without realizing it, it had basically become a habit that he wouldn't even think of doing it, he'd already be doing it.

Not really any of the class could have predicted it, even if it hadn't become surprising coming from him at some point.

The hour had almost gone by calmly, and just a few minutes before the end were left.

But when Dean's remarks, and the lack of these because he wasn't doing anything was enough to the teacher, soon the whole class knew what was coming.

And, as if Dean hadn't fallen deep enough, he finished his answer with 'bitch'.

The final touch.

"Winchester, since I guess that you seem to have free time, and have disrespectful behavior, you'll be joining Saturday's detention, with a small trip to the principal beforehand?"

"Sounds good."

Result; both found themselves on a Saturday, each sitting at a spot across the room, not really knowing what to do.

As much as they were known as a duo, and possibly friends, y/n didn't like him a lot.

She was...kinda friend with his brother, Sam, but never really talked with Dean, even if they’d both been in detention quite a few times.

But Dean, just…being Dean, actually wanted them to be friends. He had tried multiple times to, somehow, have a chat that would last longer than one minute, which failed until now.

Today might be a good shot, and he's gonna try again, even if she might not be open to it.

Detention were a loss of time, they'd give either give you a stupid paper -which, by the way, wasn't even checked-, so whether you'd do it or not, they didn't care.

Or, in this case, they'd just have someone watch over you, they would have a glance, go out for a bit, come back later, or literally at the end of the detention…which could be the case right now.

They had left god knows where, leaving the "detention duo" to themselves, which didn't change much.

Whether the guy watching them was here or not, the room was so silent that you could hear a door opening from across the hall, even the first floor.

“You’re still going to be on silent mode, as usual?” Dean asked, glancing at the girl. “You could at least say hi, be polite, you know?”

“Fuck off Winchester.”

“I said polite, not asshole mode.”

“Since when am I supposed to talk nice to you as if we were pals?”

“You don’t necessarily have to be friends with someone to be nice, it’s just basics.”

“Well, I don’t really give a fuck about your basics. What about that?”

“Woah, chill. I was just trying to be nice, which you aren’t.” He muttered.

“Oh, because you’re nice? Aren’t you sitting in detention with me right now for calling the teacher a bitch?”

“He deserved it, and you kind of did the same thing as me, let me remind you of that.”

“He also deserved it, but, did I deserve to be annoyed by you though?”

“No, but my plan was totally different, I didn’t want to annoy you, on the contrary.”

“Hm, it seemed like it to me.”

“It’s just you seeing things that way instead of what they really are.”

“Oh really? You’re kidding, right Winchester?”

“Why would I be?”

“You’re always here, saying shit, that at some point it’s kind of complicated to know if you’re being serious or not.”

“I hate to admit that, but you’re...right, but just in a way, not completely. I can be serious if asked to.”

“Oh, because you can be? I never found you serious once.”

“Are you saying that I’m a fool?”

“I never said that, you just assumed it yourself right now.” She spat.

“No, I was just trying to guess what you meant when you said that you didn’t find me serious, that is all.”

“Oh, you should have told me. I thought you were trying to ask me how I was seeing you, and I just told it."

“Did anyone ever tell you that you can be...quite indirect sometimes? No?”

“I’m just pointing out the truth, what I think. What’s wrong with that?”

“What is wrong, is that it’s not necessarily what people want to hear from you, especially when they’re being nice, like with me.”

“I didn’t notice you were trying to be nice, you’re such an ass with teachers and some nerds that I didn’t even think there was an ounce of sweetness in your head.”

Touché.

“Well uh...people can be...nice, just because they’re, not really nice to some, and can seem...a bit intimidating, it doesn’t mean they can’t be nice to others.” Dean blurted out, desperately trying to find arguments.

“You’re a dick Winchester, face it.”

“I wouldn’t go that far to the point of being categorized as a dick, but okay, I can be...mean.”

“You forgot one adjective.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You sure?”

“...annoying.”

“There ‘ya go.”

“Is there anything else to add to the list of defaults you’ve noticed about me, or are you done?”

“Unless you want a four page long essay, I’m done...for now, at least.” Y/N said, tapping her pencil against the table. “Why? Do you want more? I can keep going, I have one week free.”

“No, I’m uh...I’m good.”

“Hm. I got nothing to talk about then, too bad.”

“There's a lot of stuff to say other than me.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t know. What we like, what we hate about these teachers, or even random stuff we have. I know you like to talk about me, but we can switch the subject.”

“Me, liking to talk about you? You’re kidding. You just annoyed me, and I responded to you.”

“You seem quite enthusiastic and well informed.”

“No, I was not.”

“If you say so.”

“There’s no ‘if you say so’, as I said, I was just splitting out facts.”

“...that, again, seemed to be interesting enough for you to waste five minutes.”

“I regret answering you in the first place now.”

“No, you don’t. You love talking with me, I know you do. You should feel honored to have Dean Winchester talking to you, I don’t do that with many people.”

“Honored what? You’re not a star, you’re just the school’s brat.”

“You’re not as innocent as I am, I could call you a brat too, but I’m staying polite.”

“Oh, because you were being polite? I didn’t notice, you should have told me, I would have tried to take things differently.”

“I’m being polite, since the beginning of the conversation. You just didn’t notice, as you said.”

“Okay, you were a bit more polite than usual.”

“That’s a great compliment, coming from you.”

“Probably the only one you’ll receive.”

“The only one? You sure? I’m kind of...handsome. So, you should have some things to tell.”

“Am I supposed to see it as a joke or not?”

“...it wasn’t a joke.”

“I thought it was, because you're mostly an ass to me, not a handsome guy.”

“I know you don’t make jokes usually, but I think it’s one, no? Come on, you can’t say I’m not as handsome as all of these actors you see at TV and all.”

“What am I supposed to say in that?”

“That you find me nice, and all, you know. I know you got lots of things to say.”

“No, and even if I did, why would you deserve to hear them?”

“Because it’s...about me? You had a lot of...not really nice stuff, so it shouldn’t be a problem to say the opposite, if you happened to think that way.”

“Do I look like I want to waste the week I have to say that?”

“Maybe.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Come on, I’m not asking for a whole week, just like...a few days?”

“That’s even worse.”

“Okay, one day.”

“Less worse, but not better.”

“You don’t even have one day to spare for your favorite classmate? I’m charming, funny, nice...sometimes, I’m cool to hang out with, I got a nice brother, and plus, as we’re both Winchesters, it’s even funnier. I’ll pull him out of his books and drag him outside.”

“If I do agree, do I get to drag him outside too? I have to warn him though, I won’t be delicate.”

“You get to drag him outside, I’ll even let you do it, from start to end.”

“Then, I guess I can spare some time out of the free week I have.”

“Yeah, we don’t give a single fuck about the assignments.”

“Sam will help us on the last day.”

“True, we can threaten him too.”

“For once, you have good ideas.” She pointed out.

“What can I say? I’m a Winchester, so that’s pretty logical for me to be talented, creative and smart.”

“I said that you have good ideas, that’s all. I didn’t ask for you to brag about yourself.”

“You tempted me, and...by the way, since we’ll be stuck together for a week, might as well become less formal?”

“You mean...with our names? Me calling you Dean, and you calling me y/n?”

“That’ll be a great start.”

“It’s a bit weird though. I’ve always been calling you Winchester, it’s weird to call you Dean all of a sudden.”

“See it as a small privilege, not that many people get that chance.”

“Do any other people get the chance of getting annoyed by you?”

“I’m not annoying, just like to chat a lot. Come on, y/n, it’s not that hard to call me by my name, you gotta get used to it to preserve your privilege.”

“You’re lucky that the only knives we have here are plastic ones, and totally harmless. I would have already stabbed you by now.”

“You’ll be way too sad without me here.”

“Not at all Dean.”

“I doubt so, y/n.”

“I’ll have Sam with me to replace you.”

“Nah, not even Sam can. I’m Dean Winchester, no one can replace me.”

“I spent a lot of time with Sam, and it was as nice as when I’m with you.”

“You mean, book talk? That’s not what I call fun.”

“It’s more interesting.”

“It’s boring.” Dean said.

“Boring is what I say when I happen to be with you, which is right now.”

“Nah, you had fun.”

“Yeah, 1%.”

“I’m sure it’s a bit more than that, we've been here for one hour already.”

“Okay, 1,000001%. Is that better?”

“Not really.”

“I was being nice by adding all of these zeros.”

“It made it just a bit worse. It should have been 50% at least.”

“50% is a bit too much, would have given 20% maximum.”

“I guess it’s better than 1%.”

“I’m being generous, I gave 19% more.”

“I better get a piece of paper to remember it, it’s quite rare coming from you, I’m honored.”

“Watch out, I might get back on my decision to waste my precious time with you.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going to be extra nice.”

“I’ll make sure to have my phone and record it, I might not believe it when I’ll happen to think about it a bit later.”

“I said that I was going to be nice, that applies for you too.”

“Fine, Dean.”

“See, it took one hour for us to get along, and for once, it wasn’t a bad detention. You even ended up calling me Dean.”

“If you say so, and yeah, it was better than usual. We should try to get another, but outside of the class, like being late three times when we get back next week, and maybe add something to not just get detention.”

“Yeah, ‘could be nice. Our parents are going to be pretty pissed off at that.”

“To be honest, did we ever care about that?”

“Not once, as long as I can recall.”

“Exactly.”

“It might get us kicked out at some point.”

“I never liked studying anyway, I won’t mind getting out of here.” She admitted.

“Who likes that?”

“Sam.”

“Oh, he’s always been a nerd. But, a nice one, and not really annoying.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of like us, but...a bit more strict. Bet 10 dollars he’s going to lecture us.”

“Bet.” Dean answered.

“Okay deal. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“They’re going to annoy us for that.”

“They said we’re out for a week, we’re just leaving early.”

“I guess it’s okay then.”

“Hell yeah it is. We have one week to waste ahead of us.”

“I’ve never enjoyed an exclusion that much before.”

“That’s normal, I wasn’t there to make it fun. Now we’ll spend these together, it’ll be a nice one instead of a useless one.”

“Let’s get to it then.” Dean announced, as he crossed the door after her, sneaking out to walk in the direction of the hallway.

Guess that detention wasn’t that bad after all.

#supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural dean #supernatural fluff #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #jensen ackles #jensen ackles fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #jensen ackles x reader #dean x y/n #supernatural au

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reidsmemory · 4 years

Text

honey, honey

spencer reid

fandom: criminal minds

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: you & spencer & the team head to nyc for a case. spencer gets a little jealous about all the attention you’ve been receiving from the head detective.

not my gif!

***

“wheels up in 30,” hotch said as we finished briefing for the case. i gathered my papers & left the conference room with everyone else but slowed to talk with spencer.

he walked besides me & started talking, “this totally ruins our plans for tonight.” disappointment was evident on his face as well as his voice.

“i know,” my heels clicked the floor as we kept walking, “maybe we can have a date night in new york though!” i said in a hopeful tone, looking at my boyfriend of the past 3 months. we kept our relationship a secret from the team, but let hotch know due to the strict rules the bau had set in stone for employee relationships.

spencer looked over to me, “yeah i guess, but we might not even get anytime off for this case. hotch seemed serious about it, more serious than normal.”

“we’ll figure it out babe,” he perked up at the pet name & a light blush dusted his cheeks. “i’ll see you on the plane.” i walked away from the tall man & went to grab my go bag. this was going to be a hectic case.

***

we arrived in new york & quickly hopped in the suv’s parked outside the jet. spence, morgan, & i in one & jj, hotch, rossi, & emily in the other. morgan of course went in the drivers seat & reid in shot gun.

i sat in the back & looked over the case a bit more; 3 women all had shoulder length, brown hair & green eyes. they had all been found in their homes with their lips cut off & ligature marks on their wrists as well as a single gunshot to the head. there had already been 3 killings in 2 weeks, so this guy wasn’t taking much time off.

we pulled up to the nypd office & i hopped out of the car. “so what do you think y/l/n?” morgan asked me.

i whipped my head around, “what, sorry.”

“i said should i let spencer drive more?” spence & morgan looked at me, both wanting me to pick their side.

“definitely not,” i said with a smile. “you remember back in boston a couple months ago?”

“okay that was one time & i said i was sorry!” spencer defended.

morgan tisked, “sorry doesn’t fix a broken windshield.” i laughed as reid huffed in annoyance.

“it’s alright, spence, we all have our flaws & your’s seems to not be too bad. at least not as bad as had an addiction with a certain high school glee club show,” i stated as morgan hushed me.

“keep your voice down, princess!” spencer & i laughed at his reaction; we caught him watching the show one night & he begged us not to tell anyone.

we walked to the elevator & met up with the rest of the team that had already arrived. hotch greeted us promptly, “detective walker this is ssa derek morgan, ssa y/n y/l/n, & dr. spencer reid.”

i smiled at the man & shook his hand like morgan where as reid opted for a wave. “thank you all for coming up. we’ve got you situated in the conference room back there,” he lead us back & started talking about the case. “i normally would try to figure this out by myself, but seeing the pattern i knew i had to call some help in & i’m not complaining if that help is as sweet looking as ms. y/l/n here.”

a light blush spread on my cheeks & the detective looked pleased with himself.

“well, i’ll leave you all to it,” he winked at me as he walked out & i quickly looked over at emily & jj with wide eyes. they both laughed a bit as i rolled my eyes at the very up front detective’s actions.

“y/n’s got game,” derek joked as he nudged my shoulder.

“shut up,” i said as he laughed. with that we got to work on the case.

***

hotch had taken jj to talk to some of the families of the victims, while rossi and morgan had gone searching on a lead that garcia had given them. spencer and i were working on the geographical profile as emily had been looking at the crime scenes more thoroughly.

it was pretty late as we had been working for a couple hours and had arrived around 3 o’clock that day. i yawned as i put one of the pins down, “i’m going to see if they have some coffee, do guys want any?” i asked spencer and emily.

“i’m good, thanks,” em said, barely looking up from her work.

i turned to spencer as he nodded, “the regular with-”

“lots and lots of sugar and cream, i know your coffee order by now doctor,” i told the brunette man as he smiled brightly at me. “i’ll be right back.” i walked out of the conference room they had set us up in and went to look around for the coffee machine as a tap on my shoulder turned me around.

“i couldn’t help but notice a beautiful lady in distress,” detective walker observed, “whatcha lookin’ fo’ miss. y/l/n?” his new york accent was heavy as he talked to me.

“uh, a coffee machine or somewhere i could get some coffee,” i told him.

“right this way,” he lead me through the department and pointed to the little set up they had, “if you need anything else let me know miss.”

“thank you, detective,” i smiled lightly as i got work fixing up the coffee for spencer and i. i walked back and handed spencer his coffee as he mumbled a thank you as emily chuckled under her breath. i sat next to her i sipped the warm beverage, “what is it?”

she smiled at me, “oh, nothing. detective sweet talk seems sweet and not too crazy as well as the obvious attraction on his side of things,” i furrowed my eyebrows as she sighed, “when was the last time you got laid, y/n?”

i spit out my coffee as emily laughed loudly. spencer mumbled something, although i was too caught up on what emily had said to really notice what spencer had muttered. “excuse me?” i asked her with wide eyes as i reached for napkin and wiped my face.

“he seems nice and everything and he’s not too bad on the eyes either,” emily said with a smirk on her face.

i rolled my eyes, “i’m good em. i’m very happy with my romantic decisions right now,” she nodded and i saw spencer smile lightly as he continued working on the map.

the rest of the team entered the room as we work for another couple hours before hotch called it a night. none of the leads had worked and the families weren’t as much help so we all decided to turn in and get fresh eyes and return to the case tomorrow morning.

***

we got to the hotel and everyone had settled in their room and i waited a good 15 minutes before tip toeing over to spencer’s room and as soon as i was about to knock he swung the door open as i smiled brightly. i walked in as he followed and laid down on his bed. he flickered on the tv and found a good movie before laying down next to me.

we watched it silently as i placed my head on his chest as he had an arm slung around me. “do you mean it?” he asked suddenly as i looked up at him.

“mean what?” i asked as he sighed.

“nevermind, it’s stupid and-”

“nothing that’s bothering you this much is stupid,” i sat up and looked at him, “what is it, spencer? you can tell me,” i reached for his hands and interlaced them with mine.

“it’s just,” he looked down as the sheets of the bed, “you seem so unbothered when men just fling themselves at you and i don’t know, i can’t seem to compete and it’s just that you said you’re happy with your romantic decisions and i just keep thinking ‘what if she’s not?’ and ‘what if she’s just saying that because she doesn’t want to hurt my feeling and there are so many other guys that would be great with you that i don’t even compare too!’”

spencer finished his rant as he finally looked up at me. “okay firstly, i’m unbothered because i know that i have the perfect man already by my side so i don’t need anyone else. secondly, like i said before i am very, very, very happy, ecstatic even, about my romantic decisions, because of the very amazing doctor that i love very much. thirdly, of course i don’t want to hurt your feelings, but i would be strait up lying if i said i didn’t want to be with you and i think you would be able to pick that up very quickly, doctor. lastly, you can’t compete to them,” he looked at me with puppy eyes, “you can’t compete in something that you’ve already won. you, spencer reid, are the most amazing, gorgeous, caring, sweet, loving, beautiful, handsome, funny, adorable, and every other great adjectives that i can’t remember right now,” i smiled at him, “i love you so so much and i know it’s early in the relationship to say that, but i mean it spence. i’m sorry if i ever don’t let it bother me as much as it should, i’ll make sure to keep that in mind, alright?”

he smiled and nodded his head, “i love you.”

i leaned in and kissed his lips softly as he hummed in content and smiled into the kiss. he pulled me closer to him as we kept pressing our lips together as his hands found my waist and mine found his hair. i pulled away smiled at him lightly, “let’s get some rest, yeah? we can look at all the cool places new york has to offer for an amazing date night while solving this case.”

“that sounds great,” spencer said softly as his kissed me again and pulled away as we slipped under the covers. i snuggled up to his side and had an arm and leg around him as well as my head resting on his chest. he wrapped his arms around me and rubbed circles on my back and soon enough we were fast asleep.

***

morgan, hotch, spencer, and i sat in the conference room as we started looking at the theories again as something suddenly clicked. “what if our unsub is a female,” i said aloud as the men looked at me.

“go on,” hotch told me as i nodded.

“the lips are all taken off of the victims which we see as a more sexual and intimate act, but no sexual assault happened to the victims, right?” they all nodded, “it’s clean and organized, most female unsubs are that way and what if all of the victims are surrogates for the one she really wants. the one she’s jealous of. she takes their lips maybe it here way of saying that they can’t have what she wants a boyfriend or husband. she’s jealous and wants to stop them from having a chance with her object of affection.”

“it would make sense,” hotch started, “no forced entry. her ruse would get her into the house as well as having the victims more trusting and possibly sympathetic. good work, y/l/n.” hotch left the room and began to call the rest of the team, telling them my theory.

“nice job, princess. where’d you get that idea?” morgan questioned.

“i don’t know,” i lied, “just kinda came to me.” he nodded and looked at me skeptically as i turned and started to rework the profile with spencer.

hotch walked in as talked, “let’s give the profile.”

***

the team, plus garcia over the phone. and i sat in the conference room as detective walker came in with coffees. “here you all go, if figured you guys might need a pick me up,” we all smiled and took the coffee’s gratefully. he came next to me and placed some sugar packet down by me, “here’s some extra sugar, sugar,” he winked at me as jj and emily stifled their laughs, morgan smirked, hotch and rossi rolled their eyes, and spencer frowned.

“i appreciate it, detective. i should tell you that i have a boyfriend and although you are a sweet man, i’m very happy,” i told him as everyone looked at me with different expressions.

“well, he is one luck guy, miss,” with that he left us to get back to work. i started sifting through the files again as the rest of the team stayed silent.

“you what!?” garcia yelled over the phone as i jumped at the loud noise, “you have a boyfriend and didn’t even tell us! you didn’t tell me!” i bit my lip as to stop the wide smile from breaking out onto my face.

“sorry, penny,” i said sheepishly as i looked at my coworker who all had different amounts of surprise on their face, well except spencer and hotch.

“sorry is not gonna cut it, princess!” penelope yelled, “i need his name, address, country of birth, all of it! i have to make sure this guy isn’t some weird stalker!”

“i don’t think you have to worry about that-” i started.

“she’s right, if this guy is apart of your life we need to know him too,” derek spoke as penny agreed over the phone. i glanced over to spencer who was smiling widely as i silently tried to asses if he was fine with me telling them.

“wait a minute,” emily said, “why are we all shocked execpt him,” emily pointed over to spencer who tried to hide his smile.

“about time, you all figured it out,” hotch muttered as the room broke out with ‘what’s?’ and yelling.

“who!?” penny said over the phone.

“how long?” jj asked.

“nice going, kid!” derek slapped reid’s back while smiling.

“took you two long enough!” rossi smiled at spence and i.

“wait, have you two been sneaking out of your hotel rooms? i thought i was imagining that,” emily questioned.

“i am going ask one more time or i might explode! who is the mystery man!?” pennt yelled over the phone.

“spencer and i are dating, penny. and to answer jj’s and emily’s questions, 3 months and yes, sorry i thought we were quieter,” i said to the group of profilers.

“penelope?” spencer asked after a few moments of silence from the woman.

she squealed loudly as we all covered our ears and grimaced at the sound. “my ship! oh thank god! i have been waiting for this moment since i met you two! i’ve had to wait years for this oh my god! i think i might pass out!”

we all laughed and soon stopped as a chiming sound was heard over the phone.

“hey! i got the address and i’m sending it to your phones now! go crime fight my amazing love birds and friends!” and with that we all went over to catch our serial killer.

***

i knocked on spencer’s door as he opened it, “how does dinner at the museum of astronomy and galactic beings sound? along with passes to see everything they have to offer?” spencer smiled brightly at my statement.

“sounds amazing, let me get ready and we can head out,” he kissed my forehead and soon enough he was ready and we went to have an amazing date night in new york.

AUTHORS NOTE: thank you all for reading! i hope you enjoyed and i am currently taking requests

4.25.20

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #aaron hotchner #david rossi #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #reader

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thebibliomancer · 3 years

Text

Essential Avengers: Avengers #236: “I Want to Be an Avenger!”

October, 1983

Spider-Man -- An Avenger -- ?

Y’know, march of time and all that but this doesn’t seem as surprising as it once did.

Not much to say about this cover. It doesn’t have a lot to say about the issue other than ‘SPIDER-MAN INSIDE’ but boy does it say it.

But, oh, the logo changed and its snazzy! I quite like it!

So recent going-onses for the Avengers. Thor and Iron Man quit the team for personal business. Hawkeye broke his leg and is on medical forced-to-leave. Scarlet Witch and Vision were called in as reservists and Vision immediately got damaged by a crossover and has been in a robot-coma ever since. Starfox joined the team.

But in more positive news, they totally kicked the Wizard’s ass last issue and it cheered everyone up.

So the issue starts on a lazy summer day.

Scarlet Witch is on monitor duty, scanning for any ‘this looks like a job for the Avengers’ type calls. And multi-tasking by also thinking of her tubed husband.

Captain America takes his turn standing watch over the comatose synthezoid.

And for some reason, Cap leaning on the tube like that cracks me up.

Starfox spends his downtime trying to hit on Wasp.

His pickup line is so bad.

Wasp finds it charming in its misapprehension although it could also be the sexy beams Starfox emits from his brain.

And She-Hulk is taking a bath in a large barrel in the Avengers’ rec center, which they have. Maybe its the super hot bath?

She(-Hulk)’s also multi-tasking by looking up apartment listings while she soaks but finds that everything on the NY listings is either too small or too ritzy.

It be like that sometimes.

Jarvis comes into the rec center barrel bath area with iced tea for She-Hulk, trying to politely avert his eyes. But the intruder alarm goes off and she(-Hulk) tells Jarvis to hand her a towel and runs off to his flusterment.

Between Tigra and She-Hulk, I think poor Jarvis is getting overwhelmed with rad ladies on the Avengers.

The Avengers assemble in the main foyer and found that someone just barged in the front door and disabled the security tentacles with some sort of odd, artificial webbing.

Who could it be?

Who could possibly break into Avengers Mansion under the mistaken impression that its actually a cool way to impress them while asking for a job, showing that he’s learned nothing in years?

Could it be the person who expressed interest in joining in the previous issue? And who is also on the cover of this issue??

Yes.

Honestly, though, what an amazing splash page!

Also, spectacular and no-adjective.

Spider-Man knows how to make an impression.

Not a good one, certainly. But the Avengers aren’t going to forget the time he was casually chilling above the dining table.

And Pete isn’t going to forget it either. He’s going to wake up in a cold sweat years later still mortified at himself.

I also love it when the title of the issue is something someone said but since it has to be emphasized to make it clear its the title, they suddenly start yelling in the middle of a conversation.

She-Hulk has no patience for Spider-Man’s nonsense and grabs him off his web hammock to yell at him for barging in.

Spider-Man: “Well, I’m not exactly uninvited! Your buddy Thor asked me to join the club just a few months ago. Sure, I’m a little slow in replying, but I’ve had a busy season!”

And then he snarks about She-Hulk just wearing a towel because Spider-Man loves low hanging fruit.

SURELY, Spidey knows that offers usually expire, right? A few months ago is forever in comic time and Thor himself isn’t even on the Avengers right now.

I guess, in fairness, he has his reasons.

Besides his usual perpetual poverty liking the sound of a thousand bucks a week.

As he later muses to himself, Black Cat has been hospitalized because she tried to help him and he feels obligated to pay for her not-cheap medical bills. And he’s already quit grad school to spend more time earning but his freelance paychecks are nothing compared to an Avengers salary.

He’s being an incredibly presumptuous dick... but for a good cause.

And its just like Spidey that he has a good reason for being a jerk that he’d never mention leaving everyone to think he’s just a rude goofus.

What a shame.

Anyway, back at the present, Spider-Man asks where he enlists but Cap tells them that unfortunately their roster is full up. The sixth spot is being held open for Hawkeye when his leg stops being broken (and you think he was moany about being sidelined while his leg was broken, imagine him learning that he was replaced, eesh).

Cap does suggest that Spider-Man could join Starfox in the trainee program but Spidey throws a fit.

Spider-Man: “Trainee program?!? Hey, I’m Spider-Man, remember? I was sticking to walls when you guys were still looking for a clubhouse. I’m no green rookie!”

Starfox: “Green -- ? I take offense at your tone, Spider-Man!”

She-Hulk: “There’s nothing wrong with being green.”

Pffft.

As an actual rookie who is physically green, She-Hulk doesn’t care for that phrase, maybe.

She-Hulk and Starfox possibly beating up or more likely being embarrassed by Spider “will punk the entire X-Men in the not too distant future” Man is interrupted by a priority alert that goes ARROOOOOOOO

... Is it the Nixon alarm?

Why haven’t the Avengers fought Nixon’s head on a war mech yet??

Spider-Man offers to give them a hand if their priorities are being alerted but with this particular alarm, Wasp decides its best if they stick to the rules.

And then She-Hulk chases Spidey out by throwing a chair at him.

Spider-Man: Well, that was certainly a wash-out! Maybe I shouldn’t have come on as such a wise guy... Maybe I should have come to the door all humble and contrite. Nah, they wouldn’t have believed it was me!

.... Hah.

But he sees the third-floor of Avenger’s mansion opening up to launch the Quinjet and fount of good decision making that he is, he decides to jump onto the Quinjet as it launches.

Spider-Man: Whew! This baby is really starting to pick up speed! I feel like I’m in a wind tunnel. My sticky fingers can hold onto just about anything under normal circumstances... boy, I wish these were normal circumstances! I wonder if this was such a good idea.

No, Pete, it wasn’t.

But your inner monologues do add a bit more joy to this issue so I forgive you.

Inside the Quinjet, She-Hulk notes that the controls handled a bit sluggish right after take-off but eh whatever the problem disappeared after they went supersonic.

Huh. I wonder if Pete is ok.

Anyway, Captain America, She-Hulk, and Starfox are headed towards Project Pegasus.

Since it hasn’t come up in Avengers yet, Project Pegasus is a government research facility that seeks out new types and sources of energy. And Cap helped organize their security force back in Marvel Two-in-One #42.

The priority alert wasn’t the highest priority. Just a code-five, indicating a low-grade emergency. But it didn’t come with any details so Cap is vexed.

Three Avengers should be enough for a code-five but problems at Project Pegasus tend to balloon into worse problems.

You wouldn’t think a research facility would attract so much negative attention but as Cap points out, there’s a lot of people who have a vested interested in making sure energy stays scarce, expensive, and presumably non-renewable.

And considering that the oil companies like Roxxon are EVEN MORE BLATANTLY EVIL in the Marvel U, yeah, uh, bad shit is going to occur.

Also, Project Pegasus doubles as a place to jail supervillains so their powers can be studied.

So, yeah, Pegasus having a priority alert probably means a headache.

So these three Avengers are going in but Wasp and Scarlet Witch are on stand-by just in case.

The visit to the super secure research station goes off to a bad start when guards rush the Quinjet when it lands because a foreign object was detected on the undercarriage.

Of course it’s Spider-Man.

But before he can be arrested for breaking into a secure facility, his spider-sense buzzed.

It’d be a bit confusing if it wasn’t buzzing before though. He has a bunch of rattled guards pointing guns at him right after some unexplained emergency has happened.

That doesn’t set off the Peter Tingle at all??

Anyway, since the buzz is pretty intense, he figures that its warning him of something “a lot more dangerous than the lecture Cap’s going to give me!”

Hah!

He doesn’t manage to warn anyone before a tremor knocks (almost) everyone off their feet with a THROOM

Spider-Man is still standing because he loves Elton John forewarned is forewarned and he can stick to things. And to his surprise, Cap manages to stay on his feet.

Cap: “It’s just a matter of knowing how to react and how to brace yourself, Spider-Man.”

Hah!

That’s So Cap.

Spider-Man asks if he realio trulio can’t give Cap a hand with this situation. Y’know, since his spider-sense probably will come in handy. Cap isn’t sure because of the question of security but Spider-Man has an idea there.

See, he’s been here before!

In Marvel Team-Up Annual #5 he helped save the dang place! They can ask chief of security Wendell Vaughn (who is also known as Quasar but probably not to all the people in this scene?).

Unfortunately, Vaughn quit a couple months back. Oops.

But since Cap vouches for him the guard driving them to the lower levels is like ‘eh whatever.’

The power of a Cap vouch is not to be underestimate and never to be used for evil.

They’re headed to the thermal research dome because its the last known location of new security chief O’Brien. And where he sent the alert from. AND where the recent quake came from.

That’s good multitasking.

They reach the blast doors sealing off the entire level.

Because yes, not only did O’Brien send an alert, he also sealed off the entire level and now something’s jammed the lock.

They have no idea what could be locked behind there but they do have a Spider-Man and Starfox asks him if he’s getting a bad feeling about anything.

Spider-Man isn’t getting any bad vibes, deeming it safe to go inside.

Y’know, this is an amazing way to use Spider-Sense that they could do more with. I always love it when Spidey basically exploits the sense for things other than combat dodging.

Like when trying to figure out how to turn off a device he didn’t understand in Avengers EMH, he just went around almost yanking wires until he found one that didn’t set off the ‘OH MY GOD YOU’LL DEFINITELY EXPLODE IF YOU DO THAT’ buzz.

Anyway, it being probably safe, Cap tells She-Hulk and Starfox to open the door.

Which they do, with gusto.

And a GRU-U-UNNG

Inside the ruins of the thermal research dome, a bunch of semi-conscious technicians lie about in heaps.

Some Project Pegasus security personnel fan out to do administer first aid while the Avengers look for O’Brien.

Makes sense. The nameless extras help the nameless extras so we don’t go ‘hey are the Avengers dicks for only talking to people with names?’

O’Brien is pinned under an arc of steaming rock which Cap starts chipping in half with his shield while She-Hulk, Spider-Man, and Starfox - all people who could lift that rock - just stand and watch.

Or heck, maybe its not supposed to be a random rock arc. Maybe its attached to the floor. Still though, She-Hulk, Spider-Man, and Starfox could probably break it more easily than Cap does.

Teamwork makes the dream work, guys and She-Hulk.

Spider-Man recognizes O’Brien’s green and also green Not-Iron Man armor from newspapers and realizes that he’s the Guardsman.

That just makes O’Brien sad.

Guardsman: “Aye, I am... or I was. The state this armor’s in, no one’ll ever be callin’ himself the Guardsman again! As of now, I’m just plain Michael O’Brien.”

The Michael Formerly Known as Guardsman starts to Explain It All.

He had come down to the thermal dome to watch the thermal dome researchers sink a new magma tap.

But molten rock came shooting up from the tap hole, which is a thing that’s definitely not supposed to happen.

Oh, and some molten men (but not Molten Man) climbed out of the hole and started trashing the joint.

Plain Michael O’Brien realized pretty quickly that he was the only one who could stand up to these hot men so he signaled for help, hit the evacuation alarm, and sealed off the level from the rest of the project so the problem was contained.

And then he got mobbed by the hot men and got his ass kicked. Turns out that his armor was pretty useless against lava men.

Oh, yeah, Cap recognizes them as lava men from his description.

Spider-Man: “Lava men? You have to be kidding, Cap! Lava men? I don’t believe in lava men!”

Cap: “Belay that, mister! I’ve been up against lava men -- and they’re nothing to joke about! You’d better thank your stars that they left -- !”

You might also remember that Cap has been up against lava men allllllll the way back in Avengers #5. Technically the first adventure he had with the Avengers after officially joining them.

It was also the issue where Thor stoically sank into lava without changing his expression from his default vaguely annoyed one.

Anyway, O’Brien tells the Avengers that the lava men battered their way into the maintenance section since they couldn’t escape to the rest of the facility.

It’s a real good news bad news situation because there’s no one for them to hurt in there and also its a straight shot into the nuclear research dome.

And we don’t want any kind of meltdown there.

Cap decides that this looks like a job for AVENGERS to ASSEMBLE towards. And more than the three plus special guest star they already have.

MEANWHILE, over in New Orleans at an important meeting that definitely would be bad to interrupt, Monica Rambeau (secretly the Avenger known as Captain Marvel but not the dead guy version, true believers) is applying for a small business loan.

And then she gets a bzzt on her radio watch for an Avengers emergency.

Oh no, what of her small business loan!

And also: what small business is she starting? I think I heard at one point that she ran a fishing business with her father?

But what of her small business loan!

Well, Monica agrees with her bank guy Mr. Hillbee that its an alarm watch and that its reminding her of another pressing engagement so hey is there a lot more that they have to do here?

Luckily, all that’s left is for her to sign the documents.

Phew, I’m very used to superhero stuff interrupting a superhero’s civilian life and then them angsting about it. It’s actually a relief that Monica was able to finish up at the bank before dashing off to a phone booth to take a radio watch call with Scarlet Witch.

Wanda tells Monica that they just received a call from Cap(tain America) telling them to get to Project Pegasus. Wanda tells Monica that they’re in transit now and asks if she can join them.

And then the line goes dead before Wanda can give coordinates.

Because Monica just followed the radio signal back to the Quinjet.

She apologizes that it took her so long (!!) because she had to stop at home first to pick up her costume.

Wanda marvels captainly “And I thought my brother, Pietro, was fast!”

Ha ha amazing.

I love Captain Monica Marvel’s ridiculous powerset.

She’s even talking right into their radio so she can communicate from outside the Quinjet.

Wasp, Scarlet Witch, and Captain Marvel arrive at Project Pegasus where they’re briefed of the lava men situation by some of the security staff.

Captain Marvel nyooms ahead lightspeed dash style while Wasp and Scarlet Witch lag behind by taking a high-speed railcar.

Dang, Project Pegasus is big.

I just flipped ahead pages to see how long it takes Captain Marvel to join Cap(tain America)’s group and its a bit.

I guess maybe there’s some overlapped time going on though.

Meanwhile, two technicians in research dome D-2 (called the Compound for some dang reason) ignore all the various alarms and such that have been happening because they’re super into their project. And are possibly mad scientists.

They have the intensity.

But they’re working on... Dr. Croit’s stabilizer? And apparently its vibratory pitch was changed by the tremor that happened? Unbeknowst to them, Captain Marvel just nyoomed by outside and the proximity of her energy form activates the device and the silhouette of some guy leaps out proclaiming FREE!!

Back at the Avengers side of the plot, Cap(tain America)’s group has encountered some lava men.

Spider-Man: “Hey, Cap... I take it all back! I do believe in lava men! I really do!”

Hah.

The lava men are between the Avengers and the nuclear dome so Cap starts thinking of ways to flank them so they can keep them away from it.

She-Hulk starts trying to plow a hole through their forces and... uh.... ok. Cap has Starfox just fly around and annoy the lava men because they’ve never seen a flying man before and its just freaking them out.

Really.

Cap asks Spider-Man to use his webbing to throw up some barriers in the lava men’s path.

Spider-Man: “Heck, I can do better than that, Cappy! Just a couple spritzes of webbing, and these little hotheads won’t be going anywhere for hours!”

Cap: “No, you young fool! Don’t you see what you’ve done!”

Throwing web on the lava men makes them panic because it seems like there’s a lot of stuff that they’re not familiar with and all of it alarms them. When they’re alarmed, their body temperature raises and can get up thousands of degrees.

So they just melt loose of the webbing and now they’ve learned not to be afraid of the webbing at all and they can’t use it to corral them.

Spider-Man: “Would it help if I said I’m sorry?”

Cap: “It would help if you’d follow orders! The Avengers is a team! If you want to be part of the team, act like it! Otherwise, stay out of our way!”

Yeahhhhh. I mean, most of the time. You have your fair share of idiots doing their own thing in the Avengers because all of these guys have egos you wouldn’t believe. But generally they can agree to work as a team.

And Spider-Man, of this era, isn’t much of a team player. Not like Wolverine or Batman ‘i work best alone, bub’ type of not a team player where they’re lying about not being good at teamwork because they like being surly and dour because they think it makes them more interesting. But Spider-Man mostly works alone and is used to just doing whatever he thinks the best idea is. And he has the proportionate speed and reflexes of a spider so he can do whatever he thinks the best idea is way before you can tell him its a bad idea.

That’s why Spider-Man makes so many bad decisions, because he can make them faster than good sense can catch up [citation needed].

Anyway, as he is NOW, he’s not a good fit for the Avengers.

Then again, neither was Hawkeye and they let him join. Makes ya think.

Back over at surprise man out of a box lab, the surprise man was Blackout.

He looks like he’d be an electricity themed villain but apparently his element is darkness. Annd he debuted in Nova annnd this is his second appearance?

At the end of his debut story Nova #19, Blackout was apparently sucked into the Darkforce dimension, a fate that Dr. Croit’s stabilizer had been invented to prevent.

So I guesss.... the stabilizer’s settings were altered by an earthquake and then it was powered by ambient energy from Captain Marvel zipping past and it managed to stabilize Blackout, yanking him free of the Darkforce dimension?

I guess??

As far as villain returns go, its not the most ridiculous but it is a bit contrived.

Blackout has no idea where he is and rants about how he’ll level the place if that’s what it takes to find his way out and in a more acceptable contrivance, he happens to be passing Moonstone’s cell when he says this out loud to nobody in particular and she likes the cut of his jib.

Moonstone: “Sounds like you’re a man after my own heart!”

Moonstone tells Blackout that she’s been locked up here so Project Pegasus could study her powers and that they want to use her the way they would have used Blackout but hey what if they join forces and get some comeuppance.

Blackout: I don’t know if I should trust her... But something about her voice is so reassuring.

Yeah, that’s what we call a red flag, you dingus.

Are we back to the days where some dudes will just villain because a lady bats her eyes?

Anyway, the locking mechanism is too complicated to figure out so Blackout just squeezes it until it explodes.

Um. Okay.

-checks wiki-

The wiki says he’s only supposed to have normal human strength but Blackout himself claims that his body is a living generator of black star energies.

Which apparently means he can squeeze an electronic lock to death. I dunno.

Freed from her cell, Moonstone leads Blackout to what they can do next.

Meanwhile, the Avengers are still struggling with the lava men two levels below. And the fracas has reached the corridor to the nuclear dome. Its now or never but the numbers are too overwhelming even for She-Hulk.

Spider-Man manages to leap above the fray and get forgotten in the confusion but doesn’t find that he can do much. He tries webbing the door to the nuclear dome shut but the lava men don’t even bother opening it when they can melt through.

Hmmmmm not a good showing for a guest starring so far...

When the lava men succeed in melting through the door, a blinding light shines through and the lava men kneel down and start bowing to it.

Ohhhhhh, I get it! They’re not trying to cause a meltdown! They just want to worship nuclear light!

... No? I don’t got it? Okay.

The bright light is actually Captain Marvel who took a shortcut to the nuclear dome to reach the Avengers.

And the lava men are really enamored with her, proclaiming her the lady of light foretold in legends.

Captain Marvel just kinda rolls with this and asks them whats the deal with all the rampaging and destroying.

Lava man: “We did but strike back, radiant one! Our village, deep beneath the Earth, knew peace -- until the surface men bored into our midst with their machines. We could not allow this attack to go unanswered. We only used our powers to stop the invasion!”

Wait, isn’t this the plot of the Jetsons movie?

Cap(tain America) smoothly slides in, diplomatically, to announce that then the surface people beg forgiveness and that this has all been an unfortunate misunderstanding that he pledges shall be put right.

And like how Cap’s clout got Spider-Man into this story, Cap borrows Captain Marvel’s clout to back up his diplomacy roll, saying “The Lady-of-Light will tell you that I speak the truth!”

It’s a good thing that Monica wouldn’t go mad with power.

Also, Scarlet Witch and Wasp show up, while Spider-Man snarks that they “missed the end of the movie.”

But since we can’t have pat resolutions given the subplot that was happening while the Avengers were distracted elsewhere, in the Compound, it turns out that Blackout and Moonstone have freed Electro and Rhino. And Moonstone has a Big Evil Plan.

Blackout: “Pay them back? Yes... yes, we must. But how?”

Moonstone: “In the best way possible! We’re going to bring this place to its knees -- by seizing the nuclear research dome!”

But that’s where the Avengers are! Silly villains, you’ve double booked!

Also, I wonder if the universe cosmically influenced Moonstone to get two Spider-villains involved on the one day that Spider-Man was tagging along.

I also wonder what Moonstone is thinking. She’s the ‘know when to fold ‘em’ villain.

Hmmm... Putting Electro and Blackout side by side makes Blackout look like Electro’s grumpy younger brother.

All kinds of good decisions have been made!

Follow @essential-avengers for more thoughts on villain couture. Also like and reblog so I can feel like I did a good job.

#avengers #lava men #Spider Man #Captain America #She Hulk #Starfox #the Wasp #Scarlet Witch #Captain Marvel #Monica Rambeau #essential avengers #essential marvel liveblogging

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suwya · 4 years

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Till the Stars Had Run Away - Prologue

Summary: Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

Rating: M

AO3

A/N: I started to write this story two years ago, but I never found the courage to post it. Until something happened.

I read some of the brilliant fanfics written by @thisonesatellite, and commenting them with her, gave me the pleasure to getting to know this amazing person. She is the reason why this fic sees the light of the day. And she is also my beta: I will be forever thankful to her for all the help she gives me, I owe her so much!

Happy birthday Stephanie! I hope you’re having a wonderful day, because you deserve the best!

Prologue.

And a softness came

from the starlight

and filled me full

to the bone.

(W. B. Yeats)

Fucking ice bitch is not so icy after all. Killian thought while he was crossing the Royal Palace's limits. And yes, he was probably drunk, but not enough to forget that he didn't want to stay on this ridiculous planet another day more than necessary. He needed to repair his ship and fly far, far away from here as soon as he could. He would be damned if he didn't.

***

Eight full moons before.

The room was too bright for his liking; it was big, neat and decorated with minimalist furniture, just a double bed with a couple of night stands.

Killian shook his head; this was a mistake, a huge mistake, one that would pester his soul for the rest of his life. He knew better. Why am I even here? He thought. Oh, yes, because of the bloody money. If there was any chance to leave this damn place, this was it. He needed the money to repair his ship.

Killian Jones was a voyager. Actually, he was many things, or at least he had been - a lieutenant, a brother, a loving boyfriend - until everything had turned upside down and his life had hit an all time low. So, he gave up. Aboard his spaceship he abandoned Arcadia, his planet, navigating the stars and other solar systems in search of... well, he still didn't know what he was searching for, but his rule was "never remain in the same place longer than necessary."

When a rock had collided with his ship, Killian had made a forced landing. New Tolemac seemed a quiet place to lie low for a while, at least at the beginning. But, the ins and outs of the Royal Government of this planet weren't aligned with his philosophy. Long ago he had sworn to himself to serve no king and live by his own rules.

There were only two things that stood between him and his next destination: A new gimbal block for the engine of his ship, and the money to purchase it.

He stood at the end of the bed pondering over the best outfit for the occasion. He wasn't exactly attending a Royal Gala, this was a commercial trade... sort of.

In the end, he stuck with his usual attire: a black vest over a dark grey long sleeved shirt, black jeans, and boots. He was in contrast to the place he was staying. Everything was white: the blankets, the walls, the pavement, even the door.

He didn't flinch when that door suddenly opened. “Here we go.” He said to himself and tried to put on his best poker face.

Through the door frame, he could spot three figures. Two of them were Royal Guards with black and maroon uniforms, helmets hiding their faces, and the characteristically rounded blades around their waists. Killian wished he had his automatic harpoon with him as well, but of course, no foreign arms were allowed inside the confines of the Royal Palace.

The third person of the group was a lithe, young girl with straight blond hair tied in a complex braid. She was wearing an elegant but simple white dress with thin straps that was long enough to hide her feet. She was the only one who entered the room; the guards closed the door behind her.

So this is the famous Princess Emma, Killian thought. Well, she was beautiful, indeed, and young, so very young. Nobody had ever seen the Princess in public, not the common people at least. Raised by the Royal Family in the utmost secrecy, she had never crossed the barriers of the Palace and its gardens. Protected like the most precious treasure in existence, she held the future of the entire planet in her hands.

And that was exactly why Killian was in that room with her.

She stopped a few steps in front of him, her chin raised and her arms crossed in front of her, in what Killian would have defined as the typical arrogant Royal attitude.

"Let’s do it quickly. I have a pretty busy schedule today," she stated.

"Well, that's a shame, Princess, because I do like to take my time around a woman."

"We are not here because of what you like," she replied. "During the last few weeks, you have been thoroughly tested by a highly professional medical team, and you've been selected as the most capable for the role, and that is what matters to get the most satisfying result," she explained in an unsentimental tone.

"Capable sounds good, but it's probably not the adjective I would choose to describe myself." Killian tilted his head and hooked his right thumb in one of the loops of his belt, then made a step towards her invading her personal space. His flirty innuendos usually had a certain effect on women. "Regarding the satisfying results…" He added in a low sultry voice "well, love, you don't have to worry about that."

"I'm not worried and I'm definitely not your love," she huffed impatiently and he immediately realized he had not impressed her. "Now, if we are finished with the preliminaries, I'd rather get to the point," she added, indicating the bed near them. "As I said before I have a busy schedule. Some people have responsibilities."

"Believe me, Princess, I haven't even started with the preliminaries." He grinned, blinking at her.

"Mr. Jones..." she started what seemed to be a petulant comeback, but he lifted a hand to stop her.

"Killian will do," he smiled. “Or Captain, if you prefer something more formal.”

"Whatever." She went on, "let me make this clear: you're expendable. You're here just because you were the first name on the list, but that doesn't mean that I can't discharge you and choose the second one."

Killian remembered who the ‘second one’ was. Some bloke full of bullshit named Cassidy, whom he had met while waiting for a test to run. The thought of that piece of work and this beautiful young lady in the same room sent an unexpected shiver down his spine. He suddenly felt like he had to protect her, but why? "Oh, but you won't, because Royals never settle for second best. Besides, you don't intimidate me, Princess. I believe you're the one who's going to lose here." Confidence had always been his most effective weapon.

"You're so full of yourself, but at the end of the day I will fulfill my duty. You, on the other hand, will end up with no reward at all. And I've heard the paycheck is quite alluring. Wasn't that why you applied in the first place?" Damn woman, he thought. She knew how to push his buttons.

Something about the Princess captivated him but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He studied her. She was guarded, she clearly didn’t want him to look through her barriers. But it wasn’t all due to her status, it seemed more of a protective measure.

He decided it was time to stop with his demeanor; he shouldn't have even started from the beginning. What was he thinking? Flirting with a girl so young. But innuendos and suggestive remarks had always been his coping mechanisms in a thorny situation.

A muscle clenched in his jaw and with a more serious tone of voice he asked, "How old are you?"

"Excuse me?" Her eyes widened for a brief moment. She looked him up and down as if she was wondering who he was exactly.

The fleeting crack in her stance she had just shown him confirmed to Killian that there was much more behind those pompous Royal walls of hers. "You are way too young. How old are you?" He insisted.

"Not much younger than you are." The Princess put her hands on her hips and immediately stepped back. Her posture was rigid, her mouth set in a firm thin line, her eyes cold and challenging.

"Appearances can be deceiving. I'm quite a lot older than you can imagine. I’m not from here, and I’ve been in many lands where time runs differently."

She seemed to consider his words for a few seconds. "I'm seventeen." She answered, but before he could react she went on to explain,“and tonight the three moons of New Tolemac will align with the northern star, which makes the best scenario for me to conceive a Royal Heir.”

“This is the most preposterous nonsense I've ever heard.” Killian knew what he was supposed to do in that room, but this was insane. The girl was only seventeen years old, she had a whole life in front of her.

"I don't expect you to understand. As you said, you're from another planet. In this realm, we follow the rules. And my parents raised me to be a reliable part of the Royal Family, who in spite of my age can assume the responsibilities of a pregnancy, and consequently raise a child to be our future King."

"The same sweet dear parents that locked you up in a room to be fucked by the first random guy of the week, I presume?"

"It's not locked. I can go out whenever I want." She answered in the same pragmatic tone with which she had been speaking the whole time.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing, how could she agree to these methods? But maybe, if it was true that she had been raised for this purpose, the King and Queen had probably done everything in their power to not let her think otherwise. "But you won't." He stated as a matter of fact.

"Of course, I won't. I'm here to fulfill my duties." She replied, and it didn't slip by him that it was the second time she had used the exact same words, as if they were a memorized speech.

“Oh, come on, don't tell me you've never imagined a grandiloquent wedding.” He tried to tease her.

“I will marry a suitable candidate when the right time comes, but it's definitely not on my agenda at the moment.” She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in all the worlds.

“A suitable candidate? No knight in shining armor who will rescue you from your miserable existence?”

“I'm no damsel in distress, Captain Jones.” She answered, emphasizing his rank, “I don't need to be rescued.”

“What about love?” He needed to probe her limits, to know what was behind her walls.

“Love is overrated. We are at war. There's no time for such trivialities.”

That surprised him. “I had no idea New Tolemac was at war.”

“Maybe not right now, but the Lepka Industry is pushing forward, and we all know the consequences.”

Killian definitely knew something about those consequences. I've seen with my own eyes what that monster is capable of. He thought to himself. Invading a peaceful planet and depleting all the resources until it ends up imploding with no safe getaway for its inhabitants. It was a painful memory he had spent years trying to avoid and eventually forget. “I’m well aware of The Industry’s methods.”

“Then, you of all people should understand the importance of some good defensive measures.”

“But The Industry is very far from here.” He wasn’t sure why the Government of this planet was so intimidated by a faraway menace.

“For now. But we have to be prepared for every possibility. And the population will need their rightful ruler when the time comes.” The Princess explained. “So, if everything is clear, I'd like to get started.” She added.

Killian stared at her. He was starting to understand. She seemed so young and somehow vulnerable, but behind that fragile appearance she was a tough lass, and he liked it. Still, he believed that this was a terrible mistake. “I'm not going to touch you.”

“What?” She asked outraged. “This is not what you've signed on for.”

Killian shrugged. “I've changed my mind.”

“Why?” She inquired with wide open eyes, and he couldn’t decide if she was shocked by his refusal to follow an order, or if it was the rejection that was hurting her.

He stepped forward, and now they were so close he could spot some golden flecks in her emerald eyes. “Because no woman in any land should be treated like this, no matter how noble the reasons are.” He almost whispered.

“I'm not being treated in any way.” She replied in the same low voice. “This is my choice and my duty. My planet needs an heir that will be able to lead it.”

“You are the heir.” He stated and made a step back. Then, he lifted a hand to his head as if he was suddenly remembering something and added in a mocking way, “But oh, I forgot, you're a woman, which means that you can't govern because of some stupid rules.”

“You don't understand.” She hissed through her teeth, now clearly annoyed. “This is the only chance I have to save my people.”

“Well, then, do whatever you have to do, savior, but not with me.” Killian bowed to let her clear that the conversation was over from his point of view. “Sorry Princess, but as appealing as it may look, I'm not going to have sex with you.”

"You're wasting my time!” She didn’t raise her voice, but she definitely looked furious now. “Guards!” She shouted, and when the door opened she ordered: “escort this man outside the Palace's boundaries."

***

Eight full moons after.

Taverns in New Tolemac were scarce, leisure activities were not banned, but not happily welcomed either. The Crimson Crown was probably the worst tavern Killian had set foot in, and he had been in many of them. A band was trying to lighten the atmosphere, but the music was awful and the acoustics even worse. Killian didn't mind; his gaze fixed on the bottle he was grabbing. The glass long forgotten, he was swirling the amber liquid inside, or what was left of it. His senses were with him: the cold crystal in his hand, the out of tune string in his ears, the sour taste in his mouth; but his mind, his mind was in a place very, very far from where he was sitting.

"In which galaxy are you right now?"

He had completely zoned out and forgotten he had company. "Come again?" He tried to focus on the presence beside him.

"What's bothering you? And don't tell me it's nothing, 'cause that look on your face speaks volumes."

Robin was his best friend, his only friend would be more exact to say. He wasn't from around here either, but he had been living in New Tolemac for much longer than Killian. The two of them had known each other since Killian had landed on this damned planet.

Two foreigners, two lonely souls with no attachments, maybe that's why they connected so easily.

But Killian was in no mood for conversation, not tonight. He was going to finally leave this planet once and for all: he had bought the last piece he needed to fix the engine of his spaceship first thing in the morning. A couple of days more just to arrange everything and he would pack his things and fly away.

He had asked Robin to go with him, to search for a better life in a more hospitable place, and his friend eagerly accepted the invitation. They had ended up in that tavern to celebrate it. Killian should have been euphoric. But his guts were clenching. Why wasn’t he so happy to leave as he was supposed to be?

Nine months had passed since his unfortunate landing. So many more than those he would have stayed if he had had the chance to leave. Eight months since the day he met the Princess.

No, no, no. He thought, shaking his head. Don't let your mind go down that path again. He warned himself.

Killian drew the bottle up his lips, but a hand stopped his movement.

"Easy. Don't you think you've had enough for tonight?"

"There's no such a thing as enough alcohol." He grunted, but the hand didn't relent. "Fuck off, Robin!" He exclaimed.

"Your enchanting behavior doesn't work with me." Robin retorted ironically. "Come on, let's get out of this place." He added tugging at Killian's arm.

The air outside was thick and humid. "Bloody summer" Killian cursed while stumbling over a little rock. As he regained balance he realized that maybe his friend was right, and even if he could hold his rum, he might have had too many drinks.

They walked silently side by side for a while, since one of the perks of having a best friend is that you don't need to entertain the other person all the time. So Killian's mind started meandering through a road he had tried to avoid just a few minutes before.

"It's completely bad form." He exclaimed eventually.

"What is?" Robin asked, probably taken a little aback at his abrupt words.

"I just wanted to help her. Why didn't she accept my help?" Killian went on without many further explications.

"Wha...?" Robin started to ask, but then realization clearly struck him. "After all these months why are you still thinking about her?"

"Fucking ice bitch." Killian cursed.

"I beg your pardon?" Robin was having problems in following his friend's thoughts.

"It's the moniker I chose for her, don't you think it's accurate?" The other said as if it was the most obvious thing.

Robin shook his head. "It's not like you to talk this way about a woman. You must be really wasted." And after a moment of silence, each of them lost in their own inner world, Robin asked: "Are you sure you can get home safely by yourself?"

Killian stopped and realized that they had arrived at a crossroad where their paths back home diverged. "I'm fine, mate." He replied with a little persuading smile.

"I'll call you in the morning... or not. You tend to be a bit irritable when you're hungover."

"Good night to you, too." Killian answered back ironically. And they went separate ways.

The night was still young, at least for Killian's standards, so he decided to walk a bit more, clear his mind, and his feet brought him near the water. The sound of the ocean waves crashing into the shore had always calmed him.

He inhaled deeply the salted breeze and for a while he just stood there staring into the horizon that was clearly visible due to the bright light of the three full moons. After a while lost in his thoughts, he was almost ready to call it a night when he noticed a presence not far from where he was standing.

Someone was sitting on a large rock in a meditative position with straight back and crossed legs, hands resting on the knees. It was the Princess, as if she had somehow materialized from his thoughts. But how could it possibly be?

Maybe he had already passed out and was now dreaming, he thought, or maybe he was simply hallucinating because of the high level of alcohol in his veins. Otherwise, he would never have trespassed the Palace's limits without being aware of it, which could only mean problems.

He should turn back home, he knew it. But as a moth is attracted by a flame, he was drawn by her. While approaching her silhouette, he could make out her closed eyes.

He didn’t mean to startle her, so he cleared his throat to announce his presence. The Princess opened only one eye; if she was surprised to see him she didn’t show it. “I’m trying to concentrate.” She closed her eye again and went on with whatever she was doing.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” He asked nonchalantly, disregarding her statement.

“Do you need help finding your way back home, Mr. Jones? From the smell that precedes you, I assume you may not have realized that you entered a property where you’re not welcome.” She said without changing her position.

“You remember me! It’s always a pleasure to know I did a good impression!” He exclaimed cheerfully. “I mean, it’s quite some time we haven’t come across each other.” But after a deeper glimpse at her, he realized that the curves of her dress weren’t the result of the breeze. She was very much pregnant. "And you clearly let that bastard fuck you." The words left his mouth before he could even think about them.

She didn’t move, didn’t even open her eyes. He hadn’t exactly approached her with the intention to start an argument, but now that the cards were already on the table, there was no point in going back on his words, so he went on. "Of course you couldn't disappoint mom and daddy. But let me tell you one thing, no mother or father would ever do something like that to their own daughter.”

She was making an effort ignoring him if the sudden increase in her breathing rhythm was a hint, but that was all he obtained from her. “Don't you see it?” Killian insisted. “They are not some loving parents, you're just a pawn in their hands. They don't have a legitimate heir to the throne, because, oh what a shame, you are a girl! So they raised you just to give them what they've ever wanted: a boy."

He knew he was hurting her. She hadn't moved a muscle during his speech, but he saw her bottom lip trembling in spite of her efforts to remain untouched. Nevertheless, he couldn’t give a damn. He had nothing to lose at this point. At least she would listen to everything he had needed to tell her since the day he left the Palace eight months before.

"Do you really think they will let you take care of your child? Don't be so naive. They will probably discard you as soon as you give birth. They have locked you inside this prison for all your life, a shiny beautiful cage, that is, but still a prison. You don't have a life of your own. They didn’t let anyone near you. Nobody knows you, and nobody will care about you when you will be expendable."

At those words she finally opened her eyes and if looks could kill he would be instantly dead. She was angry, he could see that, probably furious with him, but there was more, her eyes had become a little watery and a turmoil of feelings was passing through them, he could read it. He held a hand up and didn't let her speak "No need to call the guards this time. I'm going to walk myself out of this miserable place with great pleasure."

Fucking ice bitch is not so icy after all. He thought while crossing the Royal Palace's limits. And yes, he was probably drunk, but not enough to forget that he didn't want to stay on this ridiculous planet another day more than necessary. He needed to repair his ship and fly far, far away from here as soon as he could. He would be damned if he didn't.

#cs ff #cs au #Till the Stars Had Run Away #alternate universe - science fiction #space au #my writing

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kakukoto · 3 years

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Ace of Hearts

♥ Chapter 2 ♥

[Previous]

A/N: Yep, I'm the noob who've never posted my works on Tumblr before, imagine my surprise at finding so many AIB fics floating around! So after attempting to satiate my Chishiya cravings, I realized my infatuations know no bounds and decided to feed myself instead.

Pairing: Chishiya x OC

Warnings: Angst, swearing, descriptions of violence, gore and sexual references will be present throughout this story.

Two weeks passed before she came across the same young man who talked to her on her first night. Arisu, he told her. The way his voice cracked belied the same kindness he offered her. It must have had something to do with his change of partners, she surmised. After all, not many managed to survive here, and surviving with someone important to you, that was an even tougher feat.

She supposed that Chishiya’s advice did carry weight; it was cruel but necessary to forego any pity for others. After all, how selfless can one be in the face of death? However, it was not within her nature to abandon her humanity. Rina had been this way since young, always the impartial mediator among her friends, choosing to understand rather than pass judgements carelessly. People gravitated towards her empathy, yet a fair share would take advantage of her compassion whenever it served their needs, a particularly common occurrence especially here in Borderland.

In games, she quickly became the person that newcomers go to, for she remained the only one that actually gave a damn to their incessant questions. Arisu helped too, sometimes, but she could see the weight of his life on his shoulders. It was not easy attaching herself to these strangers. Once they exchanged names, their lives meant something, and it hurt her every time someone she befriended died. She would’ve continued her altruistic acts had it not been Usagi’s firm disapproval.

“You are really strong, you know?” Now, facing the river that divided Tokyo, the young man divulged his thoughts.

She was surprised by Arisu’s admission. Of all the adjectives she would use to describe herself, strong was definitely not one of them.

“You still manage to stay you after everything that we’ve been through.” The man looked at her in half admiration and half pity. “Your heart is strong.”

Usagi gave them a side glance as the building across the shore lit up. “Which is why you need to guard it even more. People here are twisted and will do anything to live. Expose even a tiniest weakness and they will aim for the kill.” The breeze was a welcoming change from the suffocating city skylines. “Speaking of which, I guess we found the place.”

They remained silent for a while, taking in the first breath of relief ever since they entered this world. She still had many questions, and finding the safe haven that Arisu had been talking about felt like a small step towards understanding the situation. Briefly, her childhood friend crossed her mind. Despite their tense parting, she still wished that he was here with her. Arisu and Usagi had been nothing of accommodating towards her, something she could not say about Chishiya from their short reunion. However no matter the person he is now, he remained as someone she knew from the real world. The attachment could not be erased so easily, especially so when in this world where they were all starved of human connection. Although he may not look and act the same way anymore, she still felt the same familiarity from him. No matter, she would look for him once she gets to the beach.

With that thought in mind, she felt a blossoming pain at the back of her head before she slipped into unconsciousness.

…

When she woke, she found herself bounded and surrounded by strangely dressed people who claimed to be the team running the Beach. The guy who introduced himself as Hatter was the craziest of them all. He gave them a grand walkthrough of his beliefs and the rules of the place. The three of them slowly realised that the Beach was far from a safe haven; it was beginning to feel like a dictatorial hell residing in abyss itself.

To make matters worse, they were compelled to become members here, giving Hatter ownership of the cards they own. Rina watched in horror as he waved her three cards at her. “Ara ara my dear, my guys told me they found three heart cards in your pocket. THREE. I have to be honest, I would never peg you as a hearts player, but we do need someone of your caliber to help us conquer the most cumbersome suit of all.”

When she was first introduced to the game mechanics, she was made aware what the different suits represented. Many players felt the Hearts suit was the cruelest, messing with their emotions and mind. She concurred to that point, especially since her first Hearts game left her as the sole survivor, shouldering the deaths of the other players. She emerged scarred and hysterical, more so than any other games, until she met Arisu and Usagi. The two had helped her hold on to her sense of self and will to live.

When she cleared her head and thought back to the games with much agony, she discovered that there was in fact a strategy to them, similar to other suits. Though the probability of winning was much lower given that it required other players to be on board with her plan as well. What the game bet on was the mental state of the players by clouding their minds with fear and trust issues. In other words, it was a psychological test, something she excelled at in her profession. She supposed Hatter was right when he called her out on it.

Once the rules were explained to them, they were each brought to their rooms with the garments fitting to their sizes already in the closet. She hesitantly grabbed a plain black bikini, and layered it with a white, bell sleeved cover up that barely reached mid thigh. The material was a little see through, and too short for her liking, but she supposed it was better than nothing.

Arisu and Usagi headed straight out to assess the situation, but she stayed behind in her room, hoping for a little peace after the morning spectacle. By the time she woke up, her room was dark save for the luminescent numbers displayed on the little electronic clock at her bedside. Her body was still heavy, muscles aching from overuse during the various games. As much as she hated being chained down, she had to admit that this was the best sleep she got since she came to this world. The hotel bed was comfortable, and her friends were alive. “Oh fuck…” Rina suddenly remembered her promise to meet the other two in dinner. Quickly, she ran her fingers through her hair and begrudgingly left the room. She didn’t want her friends to worry about her.

The lights in the hallway blinded her momentarily, and when her eyes adjusted to it, she noticed a figure in front of her. Said man had a rifle resting on his shoulders, his face donned with multiple piercings as empty eyes bored down to hers.

“Yo new girl, let’s go.”

Instinctively, she stepped back. “W-w-who are you?”

“Hm?” The man turned to her, tongue running across his lips dangerously. She could feel his eyes rake through her body, a smirk making its way across his features. “Why don’t you guess, since you’re so good at playing with people’s hearts?”

Memories of the leopard printed shirt crossed her mind. “It was luck, nothing more”, she murmured. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

Her reply only seemed to fuel the man’s advances. “Let’s do a little exchange then. I’ll tell you my name, if you can scream it to me in a more pleasurable position, how about that?” The cool surface of metal briefly brushed against her cheek as he invaded her personal space. “You’ll be happier with me than that old man Hatter.”

The man looked every bit deranged as Hatter, and she had to bite her tongue for self preservation. From his very suggestive statement, she deduced that there must be some bad blood among the higher ups. He did not seem like he answered to number one, especially with the disdain colouring his tone.

As she processed his words, said man stepped even closer, his face a mere inch from hers. She could feel his breath upon her cheeks, the faint smell of cigarettes wafting through the air. Just as she prepared herself to run back into her room, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her back, away from the unwelcoming approaches.

“Careful Niragi, you know Hatter doesn’t take it well when someone steals from him.”

A grey jacket appeared in her field of vision. Her shoulders relaxed at the sight of the man that she vowed to find, though it brought to her mind more questions. What was he doing here?

“Who died and make you his bitch?” As quickly as he commented, the gunman pointed his rifle up at Chishiya’s chin. Her childhood friend however, did not look fazed by that.

“Just stating facts. Oh right, the games are starting soon. I wonder what will Hatter say if she didn’t participate in the initiation test because she was held back?”

The tension in the corridor was palpable. Niragi considered the shorter man’s reasoning before he pulled back, leaving the two of them. Once the walking danger was out of sight, Rina turned to her friend in relief. He still looked the same as the last time they met, calm but calculating.

“You’re here.” She wanted to give him a hug but hesitated, remembering his indifference to physical contact that night.

Chishiya gave her a half smile as he let go of her. His eyes scanned her form, just like Niragi did earlier, but if he had any comments on her choice of dressing he did not voice it out. She followed him, knowing that he was going to bring her to some initiation test. The questions were bubbling in her mind, but she was hesitant to ask him knowing that he would brush them off again. Not knowing what to say, she awkwardly rubbed her thumbs together. Surprisingly, it was Chishiya who broke the silence.

“Hatter wants you to join the executive committee, that’s why you have to do the initiation test.” He held the evaluator door open as she stepped in, a simple action that she would normally pass on had it not contradict to his behaviour. Acts like this reminded her of the Chishiya she once knew. “It’s just another game, but someone from the committee will be there as well to gauge you.”

“I thought he’s only interested in Arisu?”

“Hatter likes to keep the strongest, most intelligent players close. Everyone has their own strengths, and yours seem valuable enough to him.”

To him. The way he worded his sentence was not lost on her. Perhaps in his mind she was of little value, Rina concluded. The thought of it saddened her, although she could not deny that his intelligence was a force to be reckoned with even when they were young.

“What if I don’t want to join the committee? My visa doesn’t expire for another two days, and I would much rather not put my life on the line unless necessary.” It was uncomfortable being labelled this way, and she most definitely did not want to be forced to play with others’ emotions just because she had an affinity to the game.

“You’ll soon find out that what Hatter wants, he always gets.” His next words were uttered much quieter. “You shouldn’t have came here.”

“Well, Arisu thought this place would hold answers to our existence here, and I figured it is a good place to start…”

“And are you satisfied with the answers you found so far?” The expression on his face mocking her.

“No but I found you, haven’t I?” She gave him a weak smile.

“I see you didn’t heed my advice at all.” A sigh escaped his lips.

The elevator doors opened, this time the sounds of chattering could be heard across the hallway. Once she stepped out, Chishiya let go of the elevator door he was holding and briskly walked towards the noise.

“Chi wait-” The man stopped and walked back to her, this time his expression serious.

He whispered, making it clear that he wanted to keep their conversation clandestine. “Listen, I know you love to bond with strangers over sob stories, but do not ever reveal that you know me in the real world. If anyone asks, we are not friends. You only saw me once, in your first game here. Do I make myself clear?”

She was not used to his commanding tone. He was always so lenient towards her when they were younger, deferring to her decisions without much protest. This was a side of him that she was unfamiliar with, sending goosebumps to her skin and something else, lurking in her stomach. She could only nod at his demand.

Pleased with her acknowledgement, he turned away, not before adding another request.

“When we are not alone, call me by my name and nothing else.”

With that said, he disappeared in the crowd.

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #ace of hearts #fanfiction #chishiya x oc #かくこと

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that-one-girl-behind-you · 4 years

Text

Illicio 8/?

Chapter 7

"How are you doing?" Melanie asks, sitting cross-legged next to him on the floor. Gerry looks up at her, the tape recorder whirring away on top of his chest. "Okay. Yes, stupid question."

Gerry sighs. It's- the fact that Melanie even cares shows amazing progress from the little monster of rage she was not a month ago. Under different circumstances, he'd feel happy about it.

"I'm better. The tapes help."

Melanie nods. "Martin has some good ideas."

"At times," Gerry mutters, feeling the familiar prickle of irritation at his stomach. He has some words to tell Martin, after what he heard yesterday in the tapes. "I still think he should have at least tried to call Jon back."

"I don't understand any of that." Melanie nudges at his side with the tip of her sneaker. "If Martin could have called him, why couldn't you?"

Gerry sighs. "I told you. It's got to be something he loves. Someone he loves, not-" he huffs, when Melanie arches an eyebrow. "You know it's not like that. You know it was never like that at all."

VIII

"Jon?" Daisy's voice is slightly panicked, and it sends a pang through Jon's chest. He's learned what it means, by now.

"I'm here-" he says, giving her hand a squeeze. Daisy squeezes back so hard it hurts; that's good, down here. It helps remind you there's feelings other than fear. "Is it-?"

"It's coming agai-" is all Daisy manages to say before it is there. Dirt presses in all around them, and though Jon shuts his mouth tight it somehow finds a way in, like it always does. It cram up his nose, down his throat, into his eyes and somehow that last one is the most terrible of them all, and Jon has to remind himself not to let go of Daisy's hands to try and scrub at them. He opens his mouth to scream, but all that slides into his lungs is heavy mud, the kind you can step on and not sink, and definitely not the kind you can breathe through, and his lungs burn-

And it's gone.

Everything recedes at once -it doesn't go away, it never does-, just far back enough that Jon can take in a gasp of air that is only mostly dust.

"D-daisy?" his voice is slightly panicked.

"I'm here," it feels like an eternity goes by before Daisy squeezes at his hand, and he squeezes back as hard as he can, enough that it hurts his joints."Talk to me," Daisy asks, begs. "T- tell me... tell me about home."

There's a certain quality to her voice on the last word, a longing Jon has heard and felt and mourned before, and Jon knows without a shadow of a doubt that she means Basira. Dirt shifts around and away from them, and Jon wonders once again if their tether isn't strong enough that, in a few years, Daisy might have found the way out by herself. The thought shouldn't bring him relief after he climbed in himself like an imbecile, but it somehow does still. It means, at least, that Daisy hasn't given up.

"Basira had just left when I- she has been seeing Elias at jail. Martin's- the plan worked, by the way. He's- Elias is gone from the Institute." An empty victory. Elias might not be there anymore, but his presence still weighs down on them all, and in leaving Peter Lukas in charge he both took a revengeful swipe at Martin, and exchanged a known evil with a dangerous new threat. "Nothing else really went according to plan."

"But something did," Daisy's arms tighten around him when the Buried tries to push them apart; it hates it when they say anything positive. Jon rests his head on Daisy's shoulder; the last person to really touch Jon before this idiotic excuse of a plan was Gerry, and he -mortifyingly- finds himself comparing the two. Daisy's frame is thinner after almost seven months in the coffin and her limbs are weak with disuse, but her grip is firm and though it should be suffocating here in the depths of the Buried Jon finds it grounding instead.

And well, it's not like he has any margin of reference for- Gerry has never held him like this. The closest thing was when Melanie stabbed him and Gerry practically carried him into a cab and then up the stairs to his flat. He- Gerry's... solid, is the first adjective Jon's brain can conjure, with his broad shoulders and wide chest, and the big, heavy arms he drapes around Jon's shoulders sometimes when they walk. Not as tall as Martin maybe, but still a good head taller than Jon, and-

"Jon?" Daisy asks, curiosity in her voice instead of fear this time.

"Hm?"

"You we- you were telling me about outside." Oh.

"Ah- I- yes. Outside, I- sorry." Jon clears his throat, face burning so hot he's sure Daisy can feel it. This is ridiculous, they're- he needs to focus. What he wouldn't give for the clarity of mind that reading a statement- oh. Oh.. "Daisy."

Click.

"What is it?" Daisy tenses, and her voice has a slight growl to it. Their patrons can't reach them here, but they're still avatars, they-

"I think- I need a statement," Jon should feel guilty about asking this of Daisy when she's already suffered so much, but the Buried is pulling at him. Jon clenches to Daisy's shirt as tightly as he can; it knows what he's planning, it knows he's right. "I know it sounds- please, please trust me on this, I-"

"I do," Daisy's shaky voice cuts into his hysterical rambling. "I trust- I'll do it," she says, and Jon feels like sobbing.

"Alright," he clears his throat instead, "then... statement of Alice... of Daisy Tonner, regarding?"

Anything will do, and he Knows Daisy has stories to tell, stories he needs.

"The man that visits my dreams."

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

"How are you doing?" Melanie asks, sitting cross-legged next to him on the floor. Gerry looks up at her, the tape recorder whirring away on top of his chest. "Okay. Yes, stupid question."

Gerry sighs. It's- the fact that Melanie even cares shows amazing progress from the little monster of rage she was not a month ago. Under different circumstances, he'd feel happy about it.

"I'm better. The tapes help."

Melanie nods. "Martin has some good ideas."

"I don't understand any of that." Melanie nudges at his side with the tip of her sneaker. "If Martin could have called him, why couldn't you?"

Gerry sighs. "I told you. It's got to be something he loves. Someone he loves, not-" he huffs, when Melanie arches an eyebrow. "You know it's not like that. You know it was never like that at all."

"I know it's not like that, but..." Melanie trails off, as if trying to find a way to say what she's thinking in a way that doesn't require mentioning feelings at all. "Is it not like that?"

"Eloquent," Gerry says dryly, but Melanie's stare doesn't waver, and he knows by now she's like a dog with a bone. "It's complicated. You'd know."

"It's why I asked," Melanie shrugs. "Turns out things usually aren't as much as one might think."

Gerry rolls his eyes. He saw her just yesterday, hanging off the arm of the tall, dark skinned woman with wild curly hair and black lipstick -very different from Martin, Gerry had thought detachedly, Jon has varied tastes- who looked down at her like Melanie could disappear at any moment.

"Did one of you get resurrected as some sort of bargaining chip for the other?" Gerry asks, because at least that part is easy to put into words. Much easier at least, than explaining how Jon somehow became a lot more than just the guy he needs to survive. "No? Thought so."

"Ass." Melanie's sneaker digs into his side a bit more viciously now. "He'll come back. He's- don't take it the wrong way, but he's like a cockroach."

"...I want to take that the wrong way."

Melanie rolls her eyes. "You know what I mean."

Gerry bites at the ring on his lip, an old habit he stops immediately when he remembers how much it used to distract Jon every time he did it, and the gesture turns bitter instead of soothing.

"Not much I can do about it anyways." And isn't that the worst part? Gerry has spent his whole life fighting the entities to save as many as he could, no matter how lost they looked. Now they took someone from him, and Gerry's hands are pretty much tied behind his back. The fact that Jon lied to him to do this only adds insult to injury, because Gerry can't even be angry at him because he's gone. "How's Georgie, anyways?" A door opens with a creak; Gerry guesses Helen will be joining them soon.

"Welcome back," Melanie says in a voice that could probably suck moisture out of the air, and Gerry turns to look at the door.

Basira stands at the threshold, and 'unimpressed' doesn't even begin to describe the look on her eyes. "We're going to have a talk," she says, and it somehow sounds like a threat.

"Cheers," Gerry grunts. Just what he needs right now.

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

"I didn't really take it too seriously, when I started learning about this world. When you have things that steal faces, or trap people in nightmare dimensions, or- somehow things that watch don't seem that dangerous. Then I went to the Institute.

I had been at Basira's neck about him for weeks. Sure, Basira and I were not at risk of being fired, sectioned officers are almost immune to that, but I did not like the thought of her getting any closer to this place, and handing evidence to a suspect under the table just felt like another line we would not be able to cross back. But truth is... her intuition had never failed us, and I was thinking clear enough to realize I was far more worried about her interest in this man than suspicious of him. I hadn't seen him yet, but every time Basira came back from their meetings with the stench of the Eye around her- I thought it had to be the place, and I started to fear she was becoming the kind of thing I had to deal with, because I wasn't sure I could do it with her.

That's when he was finally cleared of our investigation, and when she asked me to be the one to give you the updates, I knew two things immediately. First, she did like him, and didn't want to be the one to drop it on him that she'd only been using him. And second, there was definitely something off about him, because Basira didn't set me on people if she didn't have a reason to suspect.

I thought I was prepared, but- I had never met anyone with the Eye, and I had no clue of the kind of thing they do to your brain. He just asked, and I was telling him about it all of a sudden; the rain that felt like it would drown us at every second, the truck covered in grime that seemed to drink in the water to turn into mud, rather than let itself be washed away as it should. The two men that were not men, the one that was, and... that.

I think what makes monsters of the Eye so dangerous is that they're sneaky. Of course I had nightmares about that night, I had been having them for years; now they were just... More frequent. Almost nightly, and when I saw him standing by the edge of the road just staring, I thought it was only my subconscious adding him in because I didn't like him.

Basira is really the only reason I didn't kill him when I found him again; I could feel he was less human and that was enough for me, but she managed to talk me out of it. She wanted more information, and I wanted whatever she wanted, that's all it took for him to survive.

The changes were easy to miss at first. Sometimes there was an extra eye on his cheek or on his neck, but they'd always be gone when I focused on him, and how much of a dream can you really take at face value? I thought it was just my unflattering thoughts about him filtering through to my sleeping mind. Then one time he opened his mouth like was about to tell me something, and there was another eyeball there, the pinprick pupil focused on Isaac as he walked into the damned thing like taking a stroll. It's fitting, I think, that he's not allowed to talk. Just to watch, and watch, and watch.

Maybe killing him back then would have been better. Maybe I let Basira talk me out of the first and only act of mercy I have ever tried to do, because I am no longer convinced the man in my dreams is not as much of a victim as I."

"State- statement ends."

Click.

"Was it- did it help?"

"...I know the way."

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

"Do you think you can find Jon if you go in after him?" Basira asks. It's not a solid lead, but it's been buzzing in her head ever since she climbed into the cab to come back from the airport.

"Wow." Melanie whistles. "And here I was thinking Daisy and I were the murderous ones."

"I know you're tied to him, somehow." Basira ignores her. She knows Melanie has grown fond of the man, for whatever reason."Think it will be enough to find him?"

"And how do you know that?" Keay arches a pierced eyebrow. He's far too calm, for someone who hasn't let go of the running tape recorder.

"Elias told me some things. Can we turn that off?" She asks. Jon's voice is starting to make her antsy, and a part of her that sounds suspiciously like an angry Daisy sardonically asks her if she's worried about the sad little monster. Sometimes Basira wonders if keeping her partner human wasn't doing the same for her.

"Yeah, that's not a great idea," Mel purses her lips by her side, and Basira frowns.

"No no, let's do it. She wants to know anyways, doesn't she?" Keay's smirk is defiant and dry, and he punches the stop button on the tape recorder. Basira watches his expression for any change... and soon enough the cuts on his face start oozing a pitch black fluid that runs down the side of his face. He doesn't bother to wipe it away, staring her down as if challenging her to comment on it.

Basira reaches across the table, and presses play on the recorder again. "Okay, so no."

"I'm tied to Jon. It doesn't mean Jon is tied to me," the man shrugs. It almost passes as casual, if it weren't for the slight furrowing of his brow. "I can't feel him anymore."

"...I could try." Basira mutters, and stiffens when both their glances fall on her. She- it's a bad idea and it probably won't work but this feels too much like the months after the Unknowing, with everything falling apart because Basira couldn't keep things under control. "I'm- I can find things. People. At least out here I can, maybe I could-"

"Well maybe you could. Apparently I know a lot less than I thought." Keay snaps suddenly, standing up so fast Basira flinches back. "Why don't we all go throw ourselves into the Buried, huh? Make a day trip out of it." He walks out the office, slamming the door behind him.

"He's having a hard time," Melanie says, and the apology in her tone has Basira huffing angrily. He's not the only one who lost someone to the coffin, if anyone's allowed to 'have a hard time' it's her, but instead she's here, trying to fix everyone's mess as usual. "Basira?"

"What?" Her voice is angry and strained. She won't snap, she won't give them the satisfaction. She's in control.

"Don't go into the coffin." Melanie's voice is as soft as Basira has ever heard it, which is not too much, but still incredibly noticeable. "Jon and Daisy might survive it. You're just going to kill yourself."

"And?" When she turns to look at her, Melanie looks uncharacteristically troubled, until she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

"And I wouldn't like that," Melanie says, like every word is a battle hard won before she speaks it. "Don't go in. It's only been three days... let's give them some time."

Basira doesn't respond, and eventually Melanie climbs to her feet and leaves the room much more quietly than Keay, leaving behind only the running tape recorder.

This is too much.

Martin working with Lukas, Jon and whatever Keay is, even this new Melanie, it's all too much, and Basira doesn't have an ounce of control over any of it. How is she supposed to make this right when nothing makes sense? When she doesn't have all the information? Basira's supposed to be the tower, steady, firm and unbreachable, the last one standing when everything else has fallen. She'd always thought Daisy needed her far more than she needed Daisy, but now Basira feels her foundations crumble, with no one she can trust to share the load with.

Her hands are shaking, and Basira clenches them into tight fists until they stop. It's alright. She'll make it work; the board has changed, all she has to do is rearrange her pieces. Plan her next move. She's worked through worse, she'll fix this one too. She just... she needs a break, a little one.

Basira buries her face in her hands, and waits until the urge to scream passes.

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

The Distortion is confused.

This is a tough problem to have, because the Distortion is usually confusing instead, condition rather than victim. Not to say the Distortion has never experienced the feeling; Michael had been plenty confused, when the Archivist accepted to walk through and instead found the door locked. But that's just the thing. Michael had been confused, whatever little scrap of twisted humanity left in him -in them, in it- was unsure of what to do next, or why he was doing this at this exact time.

Helen is not confused, but Helen doesn't have a plan either. She makes decisions in the spur of the moment, following an instinct like a figure in a fractal, pointless and non important as all her other actions, until viewed from afar. Truly, the Distortion could hardly have chosen a better host, if it had ever had the chance to choose, instead of having Michael Shelley forced into its very being. Thinking about it, the Distortion should have learned to steer clear of Archivists by now.

What was the point of keeping the tapes? Of giving them away? The Distortion doesn't know; Helen doesn't either. All they -it, she?- know is that it felt like the right moment, and that's all it comes down to, really.

It's not the right moment to reveal what they found at the center of the 'maze' -a child's game really, Robert Smirke could never begin to create something as beautiful and perfect as what Helen is by design- yet, and it won't be for a while still.

The coffin is banging, and it is the right time to open her door on the ceiling of the Archives, and drop a key next to Basira, whose shoulders are shaking with effort.

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

Martin watches as the steam from the extra mug -Jon's mug, his mind supplies, and the room around him goes a bit grayer- raises in little hypnotic swirls that pass right through his hand, the warmth of it barely registering against his skin. He's not quite in the Lonely yet, but these three days of knowing Jon is gone -that he wanted to leave, this time- has done a fairly good job of pushing him further towards-

"Oh, you're here. Great. Amazing."

Okay, tangible again. That was... that was a bit dizzying, the speed at which he was pulled back. Martin freezes at the annoyed voice behind him, and he swears once more that this is the last time he comes to the Archives break room. When he turns around, Gerard is blocking the exit, leaning on the threshold with his arms crossed over his chest and ink running down his face.

"Ehm- yes." Martin clears his throat. "Yes I am. Do you need something?" He probably doesn't need to point out that Gerard is bleeding again, right? He has to know, and it would be rude.

"I do, actually." Martin's eyes widen as Gerard pushes off from the door, closes it and locks it behind him. This is- there are only a few ways this can end and he's not looking forward to any of them. Gerard steps heavily towards him, and Martin has a split second of panic because he never learned to throw a punch, and he knows for a fact this man can- "I heard your tapes."

Oh. Oh great, this is even worse. He should've known better than trusting Helen, but this is- "...Okay, so what?"

"Cut it. I know you think you're playing Lukas, what I don't understand is what for." Gerard walks all the way up to him, forcing Martin to back up against the counter and look down at him. "What is the Extinction?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"Jon cares." Gerard's blue-green eyes harden, and Martin's lips tighten into a line. "I thought it was just another way to hurt himself and you were just an arrogant fool, but after that-"

"After that what?" Martin says then, much more ferociously than he'd expected, but he feels himself grow bolder after the snap. He will not be made ashamed of loving Jon, not when it's the only thing he has left. Peter can't take it from him, and neither can this man. Martin has never had a good tolerance for hypocrites anyways.

"After that I just believe you're a fool. But a fool with a good reason, at least." Gerard's eyebrows draw together, as if he somehow still doesn't approve of this revelation. "And Jon wanted to keep you safe, more than anything."

"Well, Jon's not here, is he?" Martin says as firmly as he can, hoping it hurts the man before him as much as it hurts him.

"No he's not, but if he wanted you safe then that's exactly what I'm going to do, whether you like it or not." Gerard huffs, rolling his eyes as he jabs his pointer finger in Martin's chest. "And believe me, Martin Blackwood, when I say I will make sure I ruin any and all plans you have made if you don't work with me."

"What- you can't force me to tell you?" Martin sort of asks. As far as he knows that's an Archivist thing, but who knows what Gerard actually is-

"No, but if I heard your tapes right, we're both doing this for him." Right. Asides from someone very much taken with Jon, of course.

"You don't even know what 'this' is," Martin crosses his arms over his chest, batting Gerard's hands away. "Will you go away if I tell you?"

"Go find out."

Martin bites his bottom lip. Arguing with Gerard has brought him back completely, at least for the time being, and he's thinking fairly clearly for the first time in three days. He would know, wouldn't he? Peter is certain it was Adelard Dekker who discovered the Extinction, he keeps insisting there must be some letters addressed to Gertrude about it somewhere in the Archives. If Gertrude knew, then Gerard has to know as well, right?

"...Alright. But you can't-" you can't tell Jon about it, he wants to add, when he remembers that's... not a possibility at the moment. "Peter thinks there's a fifteenth entity. Something called the Extinction. He thinks Dekker told Gertrude about it."

Gerard's lips curl in what looks like distaste. "Might as well have. What does that have to do with you aligning with the Lonely?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. He's very cryptic about it," Martin shrugs, averting his eyes until they land on the tea mugs. He likes the Lonely. It's... easier. "But it was the deal we made when he first came to the Institute. People are... safer, this way. As long as I keep my end."

His words are followed by a silence that stretches for so long that Martin ends up looking back. He finds Gerard staring up at him with a thoughtful -if slightly unimpressed- frown.

"Keep doing that, then. Or, keep making him believe you're doing it." Gerard says after a pause. "I'll get to looking into the Extinction. With some luck I'll find something before you're too far gone."

Martin arches and eyebrow. "Peter says I'm halfway there already, and to be honest I feel that way too."

"It's alright. We'll slow it down."

"I- what? We?" The thought is sickening, as if the Forsaken itself is protesting the idea and sinking its tendrils deeper into him in response.

Gerard shrugs. "You might have enough pull on Jon that he's willing to step back and let you do this because you ask. That's not going to fly with me."

"You- you said you'd leave me alone if I told you!" Martin says, frowning.

"I said you'd find out, and you just did." The man gives him an absurdly irritating smirk.

Martin sputters angrily as his face grows hot with indignation. "Listen, I don't know how you got the idea that I want your help, but-" he stops abruptly, because Gerard before him might as well have been carved from marble, with how still and pale he's gone. His eyes are wide, his head tilted a little to the side, his only movement a sharp inhale of breath. "Uh... are you alright?"

"I hear him," Gerard says barely loud enough to hear.

Martin feels the blood leave his face as he pales to match the man. It's only been three days, it's- "are you sure?"

"What are you doing?" Gerard is already busy unlocking the door. "Move!"

But he can't, can he? He... it's too risky. And the thought of- the others will be there. Melanie, Basira, Helen. Daisy, if Jon was lucky, all of them together cramped in the small storage room, with nowhere to hide from-

"No. That's not- it's not a great idea," Martin looks down at his hands; the tips of his fingers are starting to fade again. "Go."

He doesn't look up at the angry scoff, or the door opening and closing violently, too focused on the news and the way they swirl and weigh in his chest. Jon's back, he's alive. Safe.

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

For one brief, terrifying moment, Jon is afraid they won't be able to lift the lid of the coffin. It's heavier than any wood ought to be, and they're both weakened and shaky after months inside the damned thing. They're so close, Jon thinks desperately, he can feel his rib out there, can feel the Archives calling him back, can feel Gerry out there, getting closer every second, and he pushes with a might that's not entirely his own, until the lid gives.

What hits him first is the light, and he's blinded as his pupils try to contract as fast as they can in response. Jon flinches against Daisy as there's a clattering of plastic all around them, and that's when he registers the sound of his own voice, statement after statement overlapping as each tape recorder runs at its own time.

"We're out-" Daisy mutters by his side, one hand white knuckled around Jon's dirty shirt and the other around the coffin's edge. "We're alive, we- I can't believe- what's all this?" She frowns, looking all around them at the recorders that seem to pick up in volume when they're noticed. The two of them climb out clumsily, unaccustomed to having this much space, and collapse in a tangle of limbs and leftover dirt. Behind them, the lid slams shut again, and the chains fasten themselves around the coffin. The Buried won't hunt in the same place twice, not now that two victims have crawled their way out.

"I, the- tapes? Must be dozens of-" Jon flinches again, and Daisy wraps an arm around his shoulders to draw him against her chest, when the door flies open.

"Jon you stupid-" Basira starts, and Jon can see the exact moment she notices Daisy. Her dark skin goes ashen, and her mouth falls slack. "Oh my god."

Jon is yanked forward roughly, when Basira launches forward to pull Daisy into a hug. He manages to wedge his hands in before he slams face first on the floor, but pushing himself back up is honestly a lot more effort than what he has to spare right now, so instead he allows himself to slide down until he's lying on his side. It's a good place to rest, at least, surrounded by his tapes like a bunch of lazy cats.

Basira's squeezing Daisy against her chest like she wants to meld with her, only breaking far enough to lay a long kiss on Daisy's forehead. Jon has the thought that they've both forgotten he's here, because he's fairly sure at least one of them is crying.

He did this, he thinks with a start. He got them back together, he really did save Daisy. The feeling of accomplishment, of hope that maybe he's not meant to just destroy, is almost enough to soothe the ache of loneliness as he lays there, waiting to get enough strength back to walk out and leave Daisy and Basira to their reunion.

"Fuck- Jesus, Jon." Gerry's voice is surprisingly gentle by his side, and Jon has a second to wonder how on Earth he didn't notice the man trampling towards him, before he's being positively enveloped, a broad, warm chest at his back and strong arms keeping him upright. It's- Jon doesn't even remember the last time he was hugged like this, because it feels different from Daisy's grip, and it's definitely different from what he imagined in the coffin; the scent of lavenders has faded almost completely, replaced by an acrid, metallic smell.

"Not quite," Jon mutters, his throat tight. "But I'm getting fairly good at resurrections myself."

"You're crazy," Gerry says against Jon's hair, an almost breathless snort of laughter as he gathers Jon a bit tighter in his arms before climbing to Jon weighs nothing. "Let's get you out of here."

They don't go back to the flat of course. Jon knows he could take the trip, but he's very aware that nothing will restore him quite like being at the Archives. So they end up at the storage room with the cot behind Jon's office, where Martin used to live and where Gerry first woke up, with its patched up wall and its door that won't keep anything out but that still provides a little bit of privacy at least. Gerry drops him carefully on the cot, and Jon finally gets a chance to get a good look at him.

"You're- what happened to your face?" Jon asks immediately, because Gerry looks terrible. His skin is grey and dry, and there are dark bags under his eyes, one of which sports a nasty purple bruise; there's a large gash on his forehead, his upper lip is split at the corner, and Jon finally recognizes the smell from before as ink, as he sees it bleeding out from Gerry's injuries. He reaches to touch at the wound on his lip with a shaky hand, but Gerry -whose face is starting to look more and more tired with every minute that goes by- grips it in his. "Was it-"

"Just a fall. From when you went in." Gerry lets out a long exhale, shaking his head. "Jon, what the hell?"

Oh dear. Jon sighs, steeling himself for a round. "Listen, I- Daisy was alive. I had to-"

"I don't care." Gerry leans forward, squeezing harshly at Jon's hand. "I don't- you're out now. You made it. That doesn't matter anymore-"

"Then why are you so angry?" Jon cuts in, frowning. He just saved Daisy's life, he's not about to apologize for the first good thing he's done since-

"Because you lied to me!" Gerry snaps. "You promised you wouldn't do this, but you already knew you would, didn't you? All you needed was some information, aren't you just lucky I was there to provide?"

Jon feels all the fight drain out of him as he catches the implication in Gerry's words.

"No," he shakes his head, softly at first, growing more adamant by the second. "No that's not- that was never my intention. I didn't mean to use you, I-" his words grow fainter and fainter, until his voice extinguishes altogether. How is he any different from the hunters? "Gerry I'm-"

"This is your one free pass, Jon." Gerry's hand squeezes at his again, almost too tight, as much of a warning as the serious, hurt look in his eyes. "Don't- you don't get to lie to me again. I'm done with that. I can- I will forgive your lack of self-preservation, I don't even-" he jerks his head to the side, breathing heavily and pursing his lips into a tight line.

Good. Great, yet another person Jon never wanted to hurt, broken.

After a moment that stretches for so long it becomes clear that the man before him won't speak another word, Jon shifts his hand a little to squeeze back. "...Gerry?"

And Gerry seems to deflate, a tired exhale leaving his parted lips as he looks at Jon just out the corner of his eyes. "Please don't be like her."

Jon doesn't need to ask who he's talking about, because he Knows, suddenly and painfully, with the unshakeable certainty of the Eye. Jon is- he knows Gertrude Robinson was a hero, the Archivist he'll never be. Stopping rituals, killing avatars, so dangerous Elias himself had to put her down. He also knows it doesn't mean she was a good person. Now he knows more than ever, here in the face of Gerry's broken trust, that he does not want to follow in her footsteps.

"I won't." He says, as firmly as he can when his mouth still tastes like dirt and fear. "I- Gerry, I'm sorry. I know it doesn't, uh, magically fix anything, that would be a much gentler power to have just-" he stops and clears his throat, when Gerry's sad eyes take on a hue of amusement at his rambling, feeling his face grow hot under the scrutiny. "I will not lie to you again. Ever. I'm... I've been told I'm quite bad at it anyways."

Gerry's eyes crinkle at the corners, and Jon is the one to avert his gaze now. "Terrible. I forgot you could have accomplices, though. Melanie's just as hopeless as you, but enlisting the Distortion was a good move on her part."

"Yes, uh, I can imagine Helen must be a very... accomplished liar." Jon takes a deep breath to try and get his heartbeat under control. He only succeeds in coughing out a small cloud of dust.

"Ah, shit." Gerry shifts by his side, beginning to climb to his feet. "Let me get you a statement, I'll be right-"

"N- don't," Jon asks. He tightens his grip on Gerry's hand, and while it's not enough to pull him back down, it does get him to stop moving. "Don't leave." The thought of being alone in this small, closed room sends a pang of panic through his stomach, and he can almost see the walls closing in on him. Here they're safe, as long as they're together.

"Jon-"

"I'll just- I can take a nap. I'll be better in the morning." Of course he will, feeding on the trauma of those who have confided in him, but the alternative is the corridor that feels impossibly long, and selfish as it is Jon can't bring himself to choose to let Gerry go. It's a step away from begging, and Gerry seems to hear it, because he sits back down. His eyes are heavy on Jon, loaded with an emotion he can't identify. "Sorry, it's just-"

"It's alright. I know- you just came back from the Buried, Jon. It's alright to ask for things," Gerry says, and Jon thinks fleetingly that it would be a lot easier if he actually knew what he wants. The ink on his face is dry by now, their conversation enough to at least make his wounds stop bleeding. "I could use a nap, too. Mind if I turn off the lights?"

"...I would rather you didn't."

"Fair." Silence. An arm draping around Jon's shoulders to bring him into another hug, and Jon melts into it, embarrassingly enough. It's been too long, and Gerry... Gerry feels like home. "I still can't believe you came back."

Jon wants to apologize again. For taking too long to come back, for going in the first place, for lying. For how much comfort he finds in Gerry's touch. For not being enough, when he and Martin and everyone around him deserve so much better than a man that can't help a person without hurting another.

Exhaustion crashes down on Jon, digging bone deep into him until he can't fight his eyes closing. Tonight he will feast on dreams. Tomorrow, he will be better.

#jongerrymartin #j/g/m #vit writes #illicio

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backtothestart02 · 4 years

Text

Camera Shy - 1/? | westallen fanfiction {moved from Patreon}

A/N: I really love this premise. I hope you’ll like it too! :)

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Synopsis: AU - Iris is a model with a history of no good photographer exes. So when Barry Allen, her new photographer, wants to take her out, she immediately refuses - save some life-or-death situation.

...

Chapter 1 -

The slow hum from the alarm clock suddenly became a full siren, jerking Iris West out of her deep sleep. She jumped up, sending her arm flying towards the sound, effectively throwing her phone, glasses, and jewelry from the day to the ground. She grumbled into the palm covering her face and pulled back the covers, shivering for just a moment before trying three times to get all the items back on the bedside table. When the task was successfully completed, she pushed her hair out of her face and headed for the bathroom, her over-sized t-shirt just barely skimming the top of her thighs.

The sight that greeted her in the mirror wasn’t particularly pleasant, but she knew after smiles, make-up, and fashionable clothes were applied, she’d be looking at a whole different woman.

“Smile, Iris. Today you’ll be posing for a photoshoot in STYLE magazine. After their scandal last month, they’ve hired a new photographer that is squeaky clean and with entirely honorable intentions,” she quoted the e-mail her best friend had shot her at two in the morning.

She’d wanted to call the landline that Wally insisted on having for God knows what reason. But that would startle Linda and wake up their two-month old son, so she resisted. Not everyone needed to suffer because she was about to.

Did she already dislike the new photographer she’d be working with? Yeah.

Did she have good cause? Yeah.

Of course, she hadn’t met him, but every photographer she’d worked with was the same.

Scumbags. Pigs. Lecherous, arrogant, and sometimes… Abusive.

She pushed that last adjective to the back of her mind. There was no point remembering that experience after she’d finally gone through enough therapy to get past it. Besides, that was over three years ago. Not every photographer was abusive, she’d allow that. Every single one of them was worthy of disliking, though. She’d take that to the bank.

The only possible difference was that a newbie might take the assignment seriously for once and act like a professional. She’d appreciate that, even if he was still the scum of the earth in his free time.

Showered, make-up applied, and a fashionable get-up on her curvy figure, Iris headed for the door just as a knock sounded on the other side of it. One peek through the peephole told her everything she needed to know. And despite her previous irritation, she smiled at the sight of Linda Park-West waiting for her in the hall.

“Hello, best friend,” Linda sang, extending her hand with the hot beverage Iris loved and shaking a small paper bag that undoubtedly contained a blueberry and lemon poppyseed muffin. “You’re welcome,” she said after Iris had locked up and they were walking with arms looped down the street.

“You’re forgiven,” Iris said.

“What I’d do wrong this time?” Linda asked innocently as a grin spread across her face.

Iris shot her a glare, and Linda burst out laughing.

“Relax. This one’s different, I promise. He’s a real good guy. Momma’s boy, good grades, total geek.”

“I’ve dated creepy geeks before, Lin.”

“I’m not saying you need to date him. Just give him the benefit of the doubt as a co-worker.”

“If he’s professional, I’m professional. You know that.”

“Uh-huh.”

Iris ignored the sarcasm, and they continued walking in silence. By the time they reached the tall glass doors of Central City Studios, breakfast had been consumed, lipstick had been reapplied, and smiles were back in place.

“Good morning, Ms. West, Mrs. West,” the older receptionist said at the desk. Both girls smiled and murmured a good morning in return. “Oh, Ms. West!” She rose from her seat to call after her. Iris and Linda both spun around, pointing to each other in mock confusion, since they’d told the older woman multiple times how she could call them by their first names. “Iris,” she caved, and Linda waved goodbye to her friend as Iris returned to the front desk.

“Yes, Frances?”

The woman bristled slightly.

“Mr. Stueck wants to see you in his office as soon as possible.”

Iris stilled. “Do you know what it’s about?” she asked softly, telling herself not to jump to conclusions. Maybe she was getting a raise!

Talk about conclusions.

“I don’t know,” Frances said, pulling Iris from her thoughts. “But he wasn’t angry, so keep that in mind, dear.”

Frances pushed her glasses further up her nose and went back to her work at the computer. The phone rang and she had to pick it up before Iris could say another word.

Iris pouted but did as she was told, wiping the expression off her face before she reached her boss’s office at the end of the hall. She heard laughter from inside, which was a rarity. Mr. Stueck wasn’t always serious, and he certainly wasn’t usually mean, but laidback wasn’t usually something that was part of his daily work demeanor.

The door swung open just as she was reaching out to knock on the wooden slate. She found herself standing face-to-face with an attractive, tall, young man. He might have been younger than her but was definitely not older, and he looked as stunned as she felt. It was an awkward moment of subtly gathering air before her boss interrupted them.

“Iris! Good, right on time.”

All smiles – which was even weirder – Mr. Stueck gripped the younger man and Iris’ arms and looked at them both, drawing nervous smiles to both their faces as they snuck glances at each other from the older man’s antics.

“Iris, I’d like you to meet Barry Allen. He’ll be your photographer for the STYLE shoot this week and next.”

Her heart stopped and her face fell. Those were two pieces of news she did not want to have heard.

“Two weeks?”

“Mhmm.” He nodded enthusiastically. “They were so impressed with your work in our last two shoots, they’ve decided they want you as their star model for all the clothing pieces, possibly jewelry as well.”

“I…see.”

She tried to be happy. She really did.

But being stuck with a photographer one-on-one every day for the possibly next two weeks?

“This could be your big break, Iris. And what’s good for you is good for us. I’m so proud of you.”

She forced a smile. “…Thanks.”

Mr. Stuek sighed contently, not catching her inner battle in the slightest.

But Barry did. She could feel him watching her, and disapprovingly watching her boss in return.

“Maybe you want until the end of the day to decide,” he suggested gently, making her meet his eyes.

“The end of the day!” Mr. Stuek laughed. “She doesn’t need time to-”

“Mr. Stuek, isn’t it part of your company policy to not force assignments on your employees if they feel uncomfortable doing them?”

He shifted slightly. “Well, yes, of course! But Iris can’t possibly feel-”

“So, to be sure, you’d want her to think on it all day and come to you with an answer before the end of her shift.”

His jaw dropped.

“Maybe just until lunch?” Iris offered up. “I can call you from STYLE Studios, since I’ll be shooting there today, at any rate.”

“B-B-But they can’t make you their star model today and then bring in someone else for the remainder of the line!”

Iris waited, unused to her boss’s intensity, but certain it would pass soon.

“Fine,” he said with a giant sigh. “Check in with Helen and Rachel, then head over to STYLE Studios with Barry here.”

She froze. “O-Oh, I don’t need to- I mean, I can-”

“Not one more word out of you, Ms. West,” he said, and she knew he meant business. He was a first name kind of guy, except in the rare circumstance that he was about to lose his temper – for real.

“Go. Both of you,” he said, and no more than a moment later they’d both been shoved out of his office into the hall and the door had slammed closed behind him.

Barry managed a slight chuckle after a moment and turned towards Iris, expecting a laugh from her as well. What he got was an unexpectedly cold glare.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she said, then walked with purpose in the direction of – presumably – Helen and Rachel.

He wondered if it would be very difficult to get her to go into the same car with him.

“I’m driving,” she said, snatching the keys out of his hand when they reached his car in the parking structure. His shock almost left him standing sans-car and sans-Iris in the cool parking area alone.

She sped out of the spot and out of the structure, down the road to STYLE Studios and Barry could only think one thing to himself.

What a woman.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #camera shy #chapter 1 #moved from patreon

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flyinbanachab · 4 years

Text

Comfortember 22: Kisses

Our first kiss was on the darkest day of my life.

Vato Falman smiled at the thought.

Read on AO3 or...

The truth wasn't nearly so dramatic, but his brain had a habit of dropping sentences like this into his consciousness. Too bad he couldn't summon them on command; he could have been a poet instead of a soldier.

It HAD been the darkest day of his life, up to that point, quite literally. His first day without a sunrise. Fort Briggs was situated so far north that the sun stayed below the horizon for the six weeks around the winter solstice[1]. And yes, this was his second winter up north, but duties had chanced to keep him south of the fort during those weeks. This was his first, as the locals called it, "nightfall." That morning, the fort had felt downright festive. Everyone walked lighter, smiled bigger, blew off their paperwork[2]. Falman's shift didn't end until 6--everyone with seniority had claimed the earlier shifts--so he missed the sunset itself. But supposedly that didn't matter; the more important event was the party, and THAT was just getting started[3].

Gaily clad soldiers and engineers and techs crowded the gallery, gathering around fire pits and cauldrons of mulled wine. Torches burned along the crenelations of the parapet. It was even almost warm.

Falman stopped at the nearest cauldron and had its keeper fill his thermos (500 cenz). Then he ambled around, chatting with anyone he knew, trying hard to keep his eyes on the person he was talking to instead of searching the crowd for--

Ah. There she was, conversing around a fire pit. Wearing a burgundy velvet blazer over a black sheath dress, with a black ear warmer in place of her usual headband. His brain dropped in the phrase _casually beautiful_ and his heart did a backflip in his chest.

No sooner had he spotted her than she looked back at him, eyes meeting across the gallery. She smiled and raised her thermos at him. After a second of awkward paralysis, he did the same. Had she been looking for him, too? How else could their eyes have met? Should he go talk to her? Was that wave an invitation?

The obvious course of action was... to stall. He joined a different conversation circle instead, and then a different one after that, not really hearing anything being said, always one eye on that burgundy blazer.

"Hey Falman, you ok over there?" One of the guys asked him. "You look a little preoccupied."

Oops.

"Seems dangerous, this much alcohol on a precipice. Does anyone ever go over the wall?" He asked, hoping that would provide suitable cover.

The guy laughed. "Nah. If we partied that hard the general would shut it down for good!"

The man at his right nodded. "And you know she's just looking for an excuse. Well I sure ain't gonna give it to her!"

The burgundy blazer had broken from her huddle and was headed toward a wine station. Now was his chance.

Falman made a show of looking into his thermos. "Ah darn. I'm gonna go get a refill."

He ended up right behind her in the short line. Perfect. Terrifying, but perfect.

"Hey Doc! Happy Nightfall."

Up close, he could see that her dress was subtly shimmery, reflecting the warmth of the firelight. She looked up at him-- she barely came up to his shoulder--and asked, "Where've you been? You missed the big event."

She’d noticed he wasn't there. Had she been looking for him? Falman shrugged sheepishly. "I just came off shift. How was it?"

"Eh." She tipped a palm skyward. "It was really too cloudy to see anything. Just a slow slide into darkness."

"Doesn't seem to have stopped anyone from having a good time. I've never seen Briggs cut loose like this."

"Weird, isn't it? You'd think the big party would be at daybreak."

"Or both."

She laughed at that, handing her coins to the man with the ladle. "I like the way you think, Vato."

Vato. She hadn't called him by his first name before. He would remember.

I like the way you think.

She waited while his thermos was filled, and then they drifted, together, to a corner where someone had thrown a tiny table and two chairs. She sat, crossing her legs, showing off the seams on the back of her nylons. Oh boy-- oh no, had she noticed him looking? Eyes up, Falman.

"This is your second winter here, right?" She asked.

She remembered. His heart rate jumped up an extra few bpm.

"Yeah, but last year was so..." they shared a mutual shrug; there were no adjectives that could contain last year. "I ended up down south for the entire Nightfall. What's it like?"

"Dark. Cold as hell. Claustrophobic." He nodded, remembering how frequently the road to town had been impassible.

"Do people get depressed?"

She made a face. "Of course. It's got a stigma around here, which is SO stupid. You're not weak, you're just not getting any sunlight!" She turned and yelled at the crowd, "I can't treat people who don't come in!!" And turned back to him with a such. "I try and educate them, but I might as well be talking to the wall."

"So how do you cope? People, I mean. With the dark."

"Oh, the usual. Losing themselves in work. Drinking." Doc paused to take a swig from her thermos, then looked him dead in the eyes while saying, "A lot of people pair off."

She might as well have injected him with adrenaline. Oh no. Well, oh YES, but oh NO, he's terrible at flirting. Well, audentes Fortuna iuvat.

"Are you one of them?" Hey, that was pretty good.

She raised an eyebrow. "Occasionally. I have very high standards."

"You should! You're worth it!" Damn. Back to being terrible. At least he was sincere?

But it earned him a smirk. That's not the worst reaction. She asked, "So what are your plans for the long night?"

He took a hit from his thermos before responding. Don't screw this up Vato, don't screw this up! "I don't have any. I mean, nothing different. Read a lot. Sleep a lot." Deep breath. Here we go. Look her in the eyes. Her eyes were deep and curious, looking right back at him. "Would be nice to have some company."

She gave him a full smile at that, so, naturally, this was the moment Karley came running up to them.

"Lieutenant! General Mustang calling!"

Falman turned to him incredulously. "NOW? You’re kidding." But if Mustang was calling for him, it was at very least important, and very likely urgent. With a deep sigh and an apologetic look he stood to leave.

"Sorry--"

She waved him away with an easy smile. "Go do your job, you big important soldier."

Well, what choice did he have? He trotted after Karley, hoping everything was okay.

---

Everything WAS okay, more or less, but it kept him on the phone well past midnight. By the time he hung up with the last contact, he was thoroughly exhausted.

Of course he went back to the party anyway.

And of course she was gone. He made a couple circuits around the gallery to confirm, but it had been hours. The party was manned by an entirely new crew of revelers now.

Had she gone home alone?

Sometimes his brain handed him those kinds of sentences too. He slumped over the outer wall, staring out into the darkness. That was it, wasn't it? That was the moment. And now it's gone, as gone as the sun. Falman dropped his head into his hands.

"Hey, careful!" Neil's inebriated voice sounded from behind. A moment later, a hand clapped his shoulder. "You don' wanna end up like Taylor do ya?"

Falman looked up in surprise. (At least she wasn't with Neil. Maybe she really did have high standards.) He'd seen Taylor here earlier, talked to him even; the man had seemed fine. "What happened to Taylor?"

"He wen'--" Neil, wide-eyed, made a gesture with his hands that, while incredibly sloppy, still effectively conveyed-- "right over th'wall!"

Falman looked down with a gasp, but of course all he could see was darkness. Discounting snowdrifts, it was 168 feet to the ground. A fall of 84 feet had an average survival rate of 10%. Granted, Taylor was a Briggsman, but still... this was twice that height.

"Is he..." ... a red splatter on the snow?

Neil shrugged. "Dunno. Doc took'm to surgery. Hope she had less t'drink than me!" And with that he laughed, too loudly, and shambled off.

Falman straightened up at that, a wave of guilty relief washing over him. She was in surgery. She hadn't gone home with anyone. Duty had called both of them tonight. Well... that's Briggs for you.

He pushed back from the wall and headed toward the exit. There was almost no chance Taylor would make it. But Doc was still in there trying.

---

3:23 am found Falman dozing awkwardly in one of the anteroom's small uncomfortable chairs, but the quiet click of the door latch snapped him awake. There she was. Still in her party clothes[4] and completely exhausted. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

"...Vato?"

He stood, feeling suddenly shy. This had seemed like a good idea until just this moment. "I-- heard about Taylor. And I thought, however it turned out, you might want someone to walk you home." Whether to brag or to mourn. “Either way, that's a lot to be alone with in the middle of the night.”

She looked at him with those deep, curious eyes, and he panicked. "Of course, if you don't, that's fine, I just thought--"

But Doc smiled a small, ragged smile and nodded. "Thanks.”

They walked the corridors in silence for a few minutes. He didn't ask, and she didn't volunteer. But eventually she spoke, her quiet voice bouncing off the stone walls. "He's stable, but I don't know if he'll ever wake up."

Falman looked down at her, impulsively grabbing her hand. "I know you did everything you could."

She nodded. And gave his hand a squeeze. “I did,” is all she said.

And they kept walking like that, silently, hand in hand, down the echoing halls, until they stood in front of her quarters. She did not move to unlock her door. She did not pull her hand away.

Okay Falman. Don't screw this up.

"Sylvia..."

She looked up at him. Expectantly.

"I know it's been a weird night, but..."

Deep breath.

"...I would very much like to kiss you."

She smiled a warm, ragged smile. "Okay."

So he cupped the side of her face in his hand, and bent over, and met her lips with his. Slowly, gently, keenly aware of the sharp stubble on his face, pulling away much sooner than he'd like, but it was 4 am and they were both exhausted and the last thing he wanted was to be a creep--

But she put a hand behind his neck and tugged at him. "Hey," she said softly, "Where do you think you're going?"

So he smiled like a dope and kissed her again.

---

[1] Likewise, the sun did not set for the six weeks around the summer solstice. But Briggs wasn't known for its windows. He'd barely noticed. [2] Everyone except General Armstrong, of course. But the tradition predated her, and was rooted so strongly and deeply that even she could not completely snuff it out. [3] Okay, he HAD missed the fireworks, which they'd set off at sunset--2:26 pm. But that was fine. He'd heard them well enough, even from his station deep inside the fort. [4] Presumably she had changed into scrubs for the duration of the operation.

#comfortember #comfortember 2020 #vato falman #briggs doctor #faldoc #fullmetal alchemist #fma fanfic #my writing

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thesimperiuscurse · 4 years

Note

FINE. All of them for EVA. Jerk

NO U. aight i’m gonna answer these for the start of chapter 6, two weeks from the end of chapter 5.

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please!

ready to kick ass, make the most of her work day, determined for upcoming regionals and exams. nothing is yet to trouble her.

cadmium yellow; when you think of the word “happy” what’s the first thing that comes to mind?

the faces of her family. they are what she loves most in the world.

lemon; what’s your comfort food?

in winter, her mom makes rich and creamy soups with veggies from the garden. pair that with soft buns fresh from the oven, and it’s guaranteed to comfort eva on the coldest and dreariest days.

hansa yellow; what’s your guilty pleasure song?

classic justin timberlake songs, like cry me a river.

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of!

just yesterday i found a new one for eva, an electronic artist named kloud. there’s one song in particular, humans, the lyrics and intense beat of which she’s super vibing with.

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

the family villa in malibu. cherry and gabriel made sure to raise their children in a happy, secure, peaceful home. no repeat of their own turbulent and traumatic childhoods.

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home?

again, her family.

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend.

eva doesn’t have a best friend. all the people she’s really close to are members of her family. she’s always been far too ballet-focused to maintain deep relationships with anyone outside of her family. however, she’s now growing very comfortable with sasha, piper, misha, and mako. they’re all quite bantery with each other.

golden deep; what’s your favorite season?

summer. always.

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off?

her day off is sunday. currently — she wakes up at 8:30, has a slow breakfast with piper in the cafe, checks in with the academy physiotherapist at 11:00, and the rest of the day is loosely scheduled for gym, procrastinating maths homework, kickboxing, visiting family, playing her guitar, or watching netflix.

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad?

she has a super strong support system in all her family members, but her mom in particular. cherry is always checking up by call whether her daughter is happy and healthy.

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings?

slow mornings. eva can’t wake up before eight, and if she’s forced to, she’ll get cranky. she wakes up when the sun does.

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything?

not binging, but she’s slowly working through sex education on netflix.

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)?

right-brained. she can’t analyse for shit, unless she’s working something out using empathy and emotional intelligence. like misha, in that sense.

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it?

she’s not one to enjoy the silent purity of art galleries. she prefers to explore nature and breathe in the ever-changing beauty of the earth. the sight of the sea always brings her peace.

english red; what animal do you relate to most?

probably a dumb but very cute and energetic dog.

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent?

scottish? she finds limmy’s show hilarious.

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other?

for summer boyfriends: hot surfer boys, tall and athletic, that have a big smile and laugh, laidback yet adventurous, sunkissed with messy sea-salted hair. in other words, mako ain’t it. for a significant other: she hasn’t thought about it. a serious romantic relationship is not in her interest for now.

scarlet; describe your current crush/es.

no crushes. or at least, she hasn’t realised she has one yet. hehe.

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like?

eva doesn’t actually go on proper dates. she can’t be bothered with awkward conversations and formalities. she might grab an icecream with a guy, surf and play sports, or go to a bonfire beach party together.

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like?

hook up with him, i guess.

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date?

if it isn’t clear by now, eva gives absolutely zero fucks about traditions or ‘rules’ around dating. her relationships are in friend-with-benefits territory, and she goes straight for what she wants.

rose; what’s something really positive going on in your life right now?

the family puppy, senor papperino. her siblings send her a million pictures of him as he grows up. a bittersweet joy.

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to?

her cousin amaya is getting married to amir next year, a spring wedding in the sonoran desert. eva’s helping her with the planning and dress design, which lilith is to create.

violet rose; what does your dream house look like?

a simple beach house, warm with natural light, that sits gently in nature. small, because her time spent inside is minimal. she really isn’t impressed with flashy luxuries.

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down?

a place right by the beach. she loves malibu and would want to stay close to her family.

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down?

honestly, ‘settling down’ is something she’s barely thought about. she’s going to dance professionally as long as she can, maybe become a teacher like darcy, and explore her other passions, like surfing and environmental conservation. the traditional concept of marrying then having children is one that she feels may happen to her naturally, rather than she HAS to settle down at a specific point in her life. it’s just not on her priority list.

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

the most beautiful place in the world in eva’s mind is the garden at her family home, which blooms with dandelion clocks in summer, full of fruit trees, and is right by her favourite beach. her happiest childhood memories lie there.

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it?

at the moment, eva’s always in a good mood, because she’s in a place where she’s working at her greatest passion everyday. she’s friends with mako now, so the only person that could really put her in a bad mood is vicky.

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember?

she can’t remember any of her dreams.

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? how many of each?

since eva doesn’t really care about getting married, that hasn’t crossed her mind. she already has a broad, loving, ‘dream’ family, and her siblings are bound to have kids, so she doesn’t feel any pressure. she would be perfectly happy spending time with her nieces/nephews instead. a cute dog is a definite, though, probably another golden retriever.

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could?

evangeline’s named after one of the strongest women in her life. she’s proud to have inherited the name, and hopes to live up to it.

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent?

grapefruit, sea salt.

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

she’s a coffee person, but in summer, her mom likes to brew iced tea with fruits and herbs from the garden, which eva loves.

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

lots of citrus trees. plants that can grow wild and thrive on their own.

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog?

i can picture eva vlogging, but in reality she’s too busy dancing for that shit. she prefers to live her life off screen, grounded in her reality.

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

“jacked as fuck”

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

a field of tiny wildflowers on the dry coastal hills of malibu. the sun is burning bright, the sea is crashing against the beaches below, the wind is pulling wild at her hair.

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

eva’s always striving to be more than just comfortable. her ambition means she’s already achieved an impressive amount in life, and she’s happy with how she’s moving along, but she’s forever shooting for the stars.

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

she can’t afford to travel at the moment but hawaii, spain, greece.

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn?

a tiny bit of spanish, korean, and german from gabriel, but nowhere near fluently. she would like to improve her skills in those languages if she has the time.

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

eva isn’t bookish. she just can’t sit still long enough. when she was a kid, she did love the magic slipper series, written by one of the prima ballerinas she idolises.

olive green; are you currently reading anything? how do you like it so far?

her calculus textbook. she wants to set it on fire.

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh?

she likes cheesy 90s era movies. she’s the man always makes her laugh.

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

an ice bath and self massage for her legs, if pointe work is particularly intense, treat any new blisters or bleeding on her feet. typical ballet things.

umber; have you drank enough water today?

eva is always mindful to drink eight cups of water per day.

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent?

amaya. she listens coolly, and provides helpful commentary. a few weeks ago, eva vented to her about mako and how much of an ‘arrogant ass’ her partner is. after she finished letting off steam, amaya asked her what the exact reasons for disliking him were, which helped eva realise her own stubbornness, haha.

sepia; name five things that always make you happy.

perfect surf waves, a hug from her parents, adding a new piece of jewellery to her minimal gold collection, warm sunny weather, camping with her siblings.

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received?

she’s received a lot of ‘you’re pretty’ type compliments from guys over the years, but what makes her happiest is compliments about her dancing, particularly from professionals.

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic?

summer beach chick, relaxed shades of sea blue and white froth, minimalist, with a rough edge.

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful!

nah i’m too lazy to open the game at the moment. anyway, eva doesn’t really take selfies by herself, since she’s not that active on social media.

#wow this took ages #thanks jade #evangelinekingston #genfour #characterask

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aswallowssong · 3 years

Text

OWP (but make it December?) Day 12 - My BFF

These are back too! I forgot I had already written this one (bless) so I guess the one that’s basically just silliness will have to wait until tomorrow... oops?

Read on AO3

-----

JJ had brought the game under the guise that they could only play so much poker in a five hour flight.

Kit knew that it was really because Hotch would never let them play five hours of poker on the jet. Someone would come away wounded.

She also knew it was for her benefit. She’d been working between sites for two months, and she didn’t know much about anyone on the team, save for Morgan. Even with their morning workouts, they were surface level friends at best.

Somehow she thought that it might have been Hotch behind it, but she couldn’t be sure, and she wasn’t going to ask. While still holding fast to the mantra that she wasn’t a part of the BAU team, the more they made an attempt to include her, the more she wished it were true.

“Okay, this one says, who’s your best friend?”

“Lame,” Elle said, her small grin full of mirth. Morgan nodded, “Yeah, that’s a boring one. Why do you always pick the most mellow cards, Jayje?”

JJ pouted momentarily. “You have to pick off the top, Morgan. What was I supposed to do, look through the cards until I found one I liked? That’s cheating.”

“Actually, I don’t think you can cheat in games like this, because there isn’t a point system. No winner, or loser, would be affected by the cards chosen.”

“This isn’t a game you can win,” Kit said, “If there isn’t a point system, how would you win at all?”

Reid thought for a moment with his eyebrows pulled together before he looked over at JJ and said simply. “This isn’t a game.”

“I didn’t say it was a game,” JJ said evenly, though the annoyance radiating off of her was entirely palpable. Elle shrugged as she and Morgan shared a look, but Spencer wasn’t done. “Actually, you said ‘Okay everyone, we aren’t playing cards for five hours, we’re playing a game that’-”

“Who’s your best friend, Reid?” Elle said, effectively both cutting off his verbatim quote of JJ from an hour before, and his impending death-by-Kit-glare if he continued. She hated when he quoted someone back to themselves. It felt like Reid trying to show off, and she hated a show off.

Reid was clearly caught off guard, though he was the one next to JJ. The rule was that everyone had to answer but the person holding the card, and Reid was seated on JJ’s other side. “Oh, um. I don’t know. Morgan?”

“Aw, thanks Pretty Boy,” Morgan said, heckling from across the table. “I’ll say you, but just because you said me, and you make the coffee in the breakroom almost good compared to the way Elle makes it.”

Elle, who was next to Morgan, rolled her eyes and shoved at him. “Listen, that coffee sucks without my help.”

“Who’s your best friend, Elle?” JJ asked, she and Kit sharing the same laugh as they watched the two bicker back and forth. Elle thought for a second before she said, “I guess Liza. She and I went through the academy together, and then we were both in Seattle. We get together when she’s in town and try to talk, but…” She trailed off and gestured vaguely, but they all knew. Kit nodded along with the others. She felt like she barely ever talked to her siblings anymore, especially the ones she didn’t live with. The BAU was running them all ragged, one day at a time.

Elle looked up at Kit, nodded at her. “Alright, Lep. You’re last, go ahead.”

“Hotch and Gideon didn’t go,” Kit said, nodding towards the men on the other side of the jet. They both insisted they were not playing, but they’d still been asked every question, and both had answered with little to no interest.

“Haley,” Hotch said easily, without even looking up from his file.

“David Rossi,” Gideon said, barely glancing up from his book before looking back down.

The group of five around the table were silent for a second before Elle nodded, looking over at Kit and saying, “Okay, there you go. Haley and David Rossi.”

“Who’s yours?” JJ said, giving Kit a small, encouraging smile.

Kit took a breath and tilted her head. “Um. Oh, okay. Monty, easily.”

“Monty isn’t your best friend,” Morgan said, and Kit raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, no?”

“No, she’s your identical twin sister who you work and live with. That’s not friendship, that’s codependency.”

Kit raised an eyebrow at him, eyes going hard and defensive. She knew he was joking, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. “Okay, so, Ari then?”

“Don’t you all live together?” Reid asked, tactlessly. “That would make Morgan’s reasoning sound for both your… twins? Siblings? How are you supposed to phrase that?”

“Cúpla,” she said easily, “Ari and I aren’t identical twins.”

“You’re in a set of triplets,” Elle pointed out. “I think that counts.”

These fucking people.

“Okay, well, then…” Kit trailed off, ears burning as she realized she didn’t really have any friends that weren’t Ari or Monty. They spent their time together on Sundays, the only day they all had off, and Kit saw Ari in the evenings and Monty leaving work. All her other time was spent in the clinic, or at the BAU.

“Then?” JJ prompted, and Kit sighed and looked away from their group. “Then I guess I don’t have one.”

“You don’t talk with any of the girls from the clinic?” Morgan asked, and Kit shook her head.

Elle prompted further, “What about your academy roommate?”

“Monty,” she said quietly, one hand coming up to tug at her left braid while the other slid along the leg of her pants.

Morgan spoke again, gently throwing an elbow in her direction, “No secret boyfriend?”

She knew he was teasing. He was trying to bring the mood back up; the mood she’d clearly just crushed by admitting that she didn’t have any friends at all. “I don’t have time for a secret boyfriend, even if I wanted one,” Kit said, rolling her eyes and swatting at his shoulder.

Reid looked confused at the other end of the table, next to Elle. “We have a two day weekend every week. Surely if you wanted to go out, you could go on either Friday or Saturday night without seeing sleep repercussions?”

Kit shook her head. This conversation was very quickly going from sort of sad to super depressing. “I work Saturdays in the clinic. My only day off during the week is Sunday, and if we’re on a case, I don’t get a day off at all.”

“You work six days a week?” JJ asked, clearly unaware. Kit didn’t care, she’d never told them, and hadn’t anticipated it coming up. She didn’t really care. Why would she?

She was sort of glad the conversation was scooting away from her lack of any conceivable friendship.

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug, “I have to keep my hours balanced. Three days with you, three days with them.”

“That doesn’t leave you a lot of personal time for friends.” Elle crossed one leg over the other, actively wrangling the conversation back into the super depressing. Kit wished she would have left it alone, but she knew it was strange. What twenty five year old had literally no friends?

They were quiet again for far too long. Kit refused to look up, or around, or at anything at all. She focused on the dryness of her hands, constantly chapped and raw from washing and washing in the clinic. She was startled when, out of anyone sitting there, Reid spoke up.

“You talk to us,” he said simply.

The other three nodded immediately, words tumbling and spilling as if they’d all been wanting to speak up, and now the floodgate was open for them.

“You came to my apartment when I got strep,” JJ said. “I wouldn’t have called anyone but a friend for that.”

“And I’ve never had a better training partner,” Morgan said, “No one else is competitive enough.”

“I didn’t think anyone else would share the same taste in music as I do, but then we caught you at the bar, and I knew you were cool before, but that really sold it.”

Kit looked around at them before feeling a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She knew what they were doing, of course, but the feelings coming off of them were genuine. They meant what they said, and she was incredibly grateful. She didn’t let the tears that threatened to prick get any further than a threat, but she had to physically swallow and clear her throat before she could speak.

“Thank you. All of you. I guess… I guess you guys are my best friends.”

Morgan scoffed, giving her a smirk and nodding towards Reid. “You may have to fight Pretty Ricky over there for it,” he said, watching for Reid’s reaction, which was exactly what they all expected it to be.

“‘Best’' is a qualifier of relative quality, which means that its place as a superlative adjective makes it of a singular quantity. Superlative adjectives are used to show-”

“You can have more than one best friend, Spence,” JJ said, cutting him off and nodding toward Kit, who’s cheeks lit a similar color to her hair. He seemed to realize and read the situation, though he’d already shoved his foot in his mouth, and instead of continuing just said quietly, “Right. Yeah, obviously. The world isn’t a thesis.”

“The world isn’t a thesis,” Elle echoed before nudging the deck of questions towards him. “Your turn, Doctor Reid.”

He fidgeted with his fingers before pulling the top card from the deck, reading aloud, “What is your favorite color?”

“No!”

“Throw the whole game away!”

“It’s not a game! We’ve established that this does not meet the qualities that allow something to be a game!”

“Shut up, Reid!”

Kit watched as the jet settled, all of the attention being pulled away from her as a warm presence settled in her chest.

Yes. These people, who drive me crazy, and have no concept of personal care of any kind. These people are my best friends.

#Brenna writes things #or at least she tries #October Writing Prompts #OWP #day 12 #My BFF #Criminal Minds #SCRC #Kit needs some friends

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unityghost · 4 years

Text

Shadow Play

Part 26 (generic quip about having no life) of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels, my angst-tastic series about what would have happened if Gabriel had survived season 13.

Shoutout to Banjo the cat for helping me write this. She pressed many a random key with her paws, and voila. A fanfic. Thanks, Banjo.

Although Sam knew that Gabriel preferred to keep himself busy, there could be no denying an underlying sense of duty.

“You put up with me,” Gabriel had told him recently, with an air of factuality that twisted Sam’s stomach. “Come on, you can’t expect me to not pay my dues.”

Then he had gone back to his pile of crumbling manuscripts and continued to scrawl English translations onto a legal pad.

The attitude and dedication were not new, but Sam felt disturbed by how straightforward Gabriel could be about this sometimes: now and again, he spoke of his own burdensomeness with no emotion at all.

To Gabriel, Sam understood, that sense of being in the way could not have been more real. Once in a while, it seemed that he was simply trying to accept it - or, worse, that he already had.

One Saturday, early in the morning, Sam found Gabriel already in the library, poring over a stack of volumes which were organized in what looked to Sam like senseless chaos but which Gabriel seemed able to interpret - judging by the way he picked up one book, wrote something down, then leaned across the table to grab another and flip through its pages before readily picking up another book from what seemed an otherwise random location.

“Why are you up so early?” Sam asked Gabriel.

Gabriel did not look up from his work. “Why are you up so early, champ?”

“Are you, you know, all right?”

“Of course I’m all right.”

Sam waited for him to say more. When Gabriel remained silent, Sam said, “Yeah, okay,” and left.

He returned half an hour later with two cups of coffee from a few blocks away.

“Here,” he said, pushing one across the table.

Gabriel looked surprised. “Heya, what’s this, for me?”

“Yeah. You know that sort of upscale place a few blocks over?”

“If by ‘upscale place’ you mean ‘hipster meeting house,’ then yes.”

“Well, it’s a little overpriced, but it’s good stuff. I got you a cappuccino that might taste more like a milkshake based on how much sweet stuff I asked them to mix in. Seeing as you’ve been up since - ”

“Never mind how long I’ve been up. Thanks; that was nice of you. But I thought you didn’t like beverages in the library?”

“Yeah, not when my brother is the one with the beverage. Thanks for all the work you’ve been doing lately.”

Gabriel shrugged. Sam looked more closely at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.” Slowly, Gabriel lifted the cup and took a sip. “It’s pretty great.” But there was a peculiar expression on his face that, as Sam studied it, grew less peculiar and more familiar: the crease in his brow, the tightness of his lips.

“Gabe,” Sam said.

“What?” Now Gabriel’s eyes were bright and hyper-alert. “What is it?”

Sam sat down across from him. “Something’s bothering you, huh?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to talk about it, but please don’t lie.”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “I’m tired. Ever since that djinn managed to cop some archangel blood in Idaho last week, I’ve felt like I’m recovering from the flu or something.”

"If you're so tired, what are you doing up?"

Gabriel didn't answer.

Sam sighed. “It’s just us, you know. I don’t think anybody else is even awake.”

“Oh please, Cas doesn’t sleep.”

“Well, he’s not here right now, is he? Gabriel, please just don’t feel like you have to hide anything.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. “There’s some stuff that’s hard to explain.”

“Maybe I can help if I have some idea of what’s going through your head.”

“Maybe. But it won’t make any more sense to you than it does to me.”

“Try me.”

“It’s not just that, though. It’s …” Gabriel struggled for a moment. “It’ll make me seem, um …”

Sam thought about suggesting an adjective - childish, psychotic, whiny - based on the laundry list Gabriel had already given him, but decided to wait instead. Sometimes, he observed, their conversations began as morbid rounds of Mad Libs.

“Ungrateful,” Gabriel finished.

Sam frowned. “For what?”

Gabriel avoided Sam’s eyes. “Everything. Asmodeus saw me as a Veruca Salt type. Never satisfied - always demanding more.” He swallowed, and Sam noticed that he had lost some color in his face. “Once in a while, though, he would surprise me with something nice. Food, or drink, or something to keep me warm. I guess maybe he wanted to prevent future bitching from his petulant toy.”

“I don’t know; sounds more like he was messing with you in some way, Gabriel.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I don’t think of you like that, you know. Neither does anyone else.”

“If I’d been good enough,” Gabriel continued, as though Sam had not spoken, “He wanted to spend time with me - or so he said. He used phrases like ‘good boy’ and ‘sweet pet’ and - well, sorry if you already had breakfast. Look, Sam, the thing is, there’s no pleasure like the pleasure of a beaten dog whose owner sidles in to stroke its bruised spine.” Gabriel paused. “Except you’d think I would never want him near me, wouldn’t you?”

Sam hesitated. “Well, yeah.”

“Mm-hmm. But there was so much relief in those moments - relief at finally seeing proof.”

Sam squinted. “Proof?”

“Proof that what he was saying to me was true. You know, that I was lucky to be there with him - because he was the only one who knew what was good for trash like me. And because he was the only one who knew what that trash was good for. It was a healthy reminder that if I wasn’t his plaything, I’d be useless. And …” Gabriel broke off, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing. “It was my rightful place, Sam. Well - I know now that it wasn’t, but how was I supposed to figure otherwise when I was still down there with him?”

Sam wondered if Gabriel really did know otherwise now, but dismissed the thought.

“And,” Gabriel barreled on, “The euphoria of his affection was always punctuated by a sense of - of ‘Don’t screw this up, Gabriel, not now that he’s shown he can love you.’ But of course I always did find a way to screw things up. There was no pleasing the guy for more than a handful of hours at a time.” Gabriel lowered his eyes, surveying the coffee cup in front of him. “I tried harder at that than I’ve ever tried at anything else, Sam. Chalk it up to having no grace, no power. Or … or maybe I was just that bad at being good enough.”

“Hey.” Sam softened his voice. “I didn’t bring you the coffee because I want you to do anything for me.”

“I get it, I get it; you’re no Asmodeus. You really think I deserve good things.” Gabriel’s smile was cold. “Sam, do you really want to know what shot through my head when you brought this in?”

Sam nodded.

“I - ” But Gabriel paused. Seconds ticked by. Then he said, “I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense even to me.”

“Were you afraid, maybe?"

“I don’t think so, no.”

He was right, Sam thought: Gabriel did not look frightened. This time, there was something else laced through his features, something Sam had been meaning to bring up for a while.

Tentatively, Sam spoke. “Hey, um, Gabriel - do you remember that night a few weeks ago, where you woke up from the nightmare?”

“Oh, you mean that one nightmare I had that one night, that one time, amid countless hours of dreamless slumber?”

Sam sighed. “When you woke up screaming and everybody came running in.”

“No, Sam. Please, paint a more vivid picture so I can add it to my scrapbook.”

“Well, do you remember how I asked you if you … you know … if you missed Asmodeus?”

Gabriel bristled. “Yes. I remember that.”

“I mean …”

Gabriel kept his gaze averted.

“Gabriel,” Sam said quietly, “Sometimes I have the sense you wish that … that he could be the one to come and help. Not me.”

Gabriel shut his eyes. “Do you have any idea how that makes me sound?”

“Um … sad?”

“No. Thankless.”

“You’re still worried about being ungrateful?”

“Uh, yeah, no shit.”

“I’m not accusing you of doing anything wrong. I get it - sort of. I mean, he did give you everything you had, right?”

Gabriel barked what sounded less like laughter and more like a shriek of terror. “And he made mighty sure I knew it. Sam, I don’t want Asmodeus - I want you.”

In that moment, Sam thought he finally understood why Gabriel was disturbed and disgusted by the word “want.” There was something horrendously, nauseatingly powerful about how it sounded coming from Gabriel's mouth.

“Look,” said Gabriel, “It’s just - I - his love was in short supply, and he wasted it on me time and again, and I - I let him down.”

“He didn’t love you, Gabriel.”

“Don't, Sam. Don't say that, all right? I don’t like when you tell me he didn't love me.”

“I’m sorry, Gabe, but it’s true. You can’t think of his treatment as love.”

Gabriel turned away, but not before Sam saw tears in his eyes.

“Crap,” Sam whispered. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I don’t want you to think that the way he handled you is the way you deserve to be treated, that’s all.”

Gabriel shook his head and muttered something.

“What?” asked Sam.

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Um - I failed him.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I tried to be enough.” Gabriel seemed to be speaking more to himself than to Sam now. “I tried to be worth what he was offering.”

Sam reached out and took Gabriel's hand. It was an old gesture of comfort, one that Gabriel almost never rejected - and he didn’t now. “Can you listen to me for a second?”

Without looking at him, Gabriel nodded.

“You could tell me anything at this point, I think - and we’d find a place for it in everything else we’ve had to work through. Okay? If you came to me to say you hate him or miss him or whatever - I mean, I never felt anything like that for Lucifer. I can’t say I ever once felt like I missed him. But all that means is that Lucifer is different from Asmodeus, and I’m a little different from you.”

“Sure, if by ‘different’ you mean - ”

“I don’t mean ‘better.’ I mean different.” Sam squeezed his hand, half-hoping that Gabriel would reciprocate and feeling disappointed when he didn’t. “You need to let me know what’s going through your head even if I might not totally get it. I’m - I’m a little confused, maybe, but not shocked. I don’t have expectations about what you’re going to feel. Whatever you’ve got going on is just part of everything else, okay? Please just - just don’t be scared to bring it up. Even if you were to come to me and tell me you hated me, we could make it fit. We could figure it out.”

All at once, Gabriel went white and jerked his hand out of Sam’s. “I don’t hate you!”

Sam blinked, startled.

“I don’t hate you!” Gabriel repeated. “In what universe would I claim to hate you? Where did that come from?”

“Nowhere! I’m just saying you could confess something super weird and we’d still - ”

“I don’t hate you! Do you think I hate you?”

“No, Gabriel. That’s not what I think.” Sam tried to sound soothing, but the truth was that Gabriel’s reaction might be the exception: Sam was not, in that moment, sure how to incorporate it into the bigger picture.

“I didn’t want to make you think I hated you,” Gabriel insisted. “Jesus, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you about this; I didn’t want to say anything because Dad knows it makes me sound like the spoiled brat Asmodeus always told me I was!”

“Gabriel - ”

“Missing him is betraying you, and I know that; but not missing him is betraying him! Not that I’m worried about that, but - or I am, I think; I mean, I shouldn’t be, but - see, paying any mind to his feelings is pointless, but those moments of - of peace or safety or love or - Sam, they were important.”

“Okay. Hey, hey, listen, buddy - this isn’t about what you owe me. That was your home for a long time, so I get where you’re coming from. Home is home, even if it sucks. Don’t be so angry with yourself over it.”

“Please don’t use that word.” Gabriel’s voice trembled. “Please - don’t try and talk to me about home, okay? Because sometimes I think I want to go home, and then I remember that I have no clue where home is supposed to be - in Hell, maybe, as ludicrous as that sounds; or I guess having no home at all feels more like home than anything else.”

“Wait,” Sam interjected, “You think you don’t have a home?”

“Ah.” Gabriel held up a hand. “Pause. Footnote: there is no consensus among the many factions of my conscience as to whether I have an obligation to make this my home, or if I owe it to all of you to resist the temptation to let myself feel any such thing.”

Before Sam could reply, a new expression passed over Gabriel’s features, one that could not have been mistaken for anything but grief. His face took on the taut, ruddy sadness that Sam had only ever witnessed at memorials.

Slowly, Sam shook his head. “You don’t owe us that. Or anything else.”

Gabriel wiped his eyes. “Yeah, Sam. I do.”

“And you shouldn’t expect yourself to be able to pilot what you do and don’t feel about Asmodeus.”

“I’m not allowed to hope that things will at least make sense? No, of course not. I don’t know what I’m doing. Maybe I expect everybody else to know. Obviously I anticipate that you’ll have all the answers. Another example of just how right he could be about me.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Yeah. Spoiled brat, remember?”

“Gabriel, dude … you start going on about yourself like that, you’ll get worked up.”

“Because as you can clearly see, I couldn’t be any damn calmer.” Gabriel scrubbed a hand forcefully, violently, back and forth against his tear-stained cheeks. “I’m stating facts. Picture it: me, feeling anything like grief for him when I have so much more now? That tells you more about me than you should ever have to know. It speaks volumes. Nothing is ever good enough for me, and - and I’m not good enough to make up for always wanting more.”

Sam could now recognize the warning signs in Gabriel’s face - harbingers of delirious panic brought on by memories too heavy to swallow. He saw the pallor, the beads of sweat, the clenched jaw, and owlishly bright eyes.

“Calm down,” he told Gabriel, trying to sound firm without posing a threat. “You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t. Okay?”

“Hmm,” Gabriel offered.

“You’re safe, Gabe. You have to remember that.”

“You know what pisses me off more than anything else right now? What really, really pisses me off?”

“Yeah?”

“That I’ve already got myself too damn sick to even try drinking the coffee you brought. So there you have it; you’ve wasted time and resources on an undeserving son of a - ”

“You can have it later, when you’re ready.”

“I was happy to have it, and then I just - I - I went and screwed things up again.”

“You really didn’t.”

“Sam …” Gabriel lowered his head and ran both hands through his hair. “I … man, I like to think I have more good days than bad. Since imagination is fun and healthy, and I love to walk the deliciously tender line between being an optimist and being a bullshitter.”

“Nobody’s keeping tabs on how many bad days you have. And backsliding is normal. Not ideal, I guess. But normal enough.”

Gabriel snorted. “Great. Feels good to know that everything happening right now is par for the course and I should just roll with it. Sam, this does not feel like it should be normal. Ever. In any context.”

“Then let it be a new version of normal."

“Jesus Christ,” Gabriel muttered. “You know what, Sammy? Let me tell you something about this ‘new normal.’”

“I’m listening.” Truthfully, however, Sam was not sure he wanted to hear. Gabriel didn't sound like he intended to offer any uplifting anecdotes.

“The other night,” Gabriel began, “I had another stupid dream. But this time we’re talking actually stupid, okay? Not just bad, but total gibberish. And when I jerked awake after this circus, I tried to talk myself down: ‘You know your crippled semi-human psyche is playing unpalatable games with itself. Relax, sergeant; take a breath and shimmy your sorry ass back into the present.’ Well, guess freakin’ what, Sam? It didn’t work. I felt frozen and sick and terrified, no matter how hard I wrestled with myself over it. I was so scared just by this flash fiction that had nothing to do with anything at all.”

“What was it?” Sam asked apprehensively.

“A piece of crummy abstract art. There was a shadow on the wall, some formless dark shape with a whole slew of possible identities. One second I felt like maybe I was seeing Dean, then Castiel, and even Jack for a split second there. Not you, though - never you.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, absolutely fabulous. Except that that meant I wanted you. I wanted you immediately. I had this feeling that each one of the others was evil, corrupt, gruesome - hungry for some Gabriel meat. So when I woke up, all I wanted was you. I wanted you so damn much, Sam.”

Sam’s blood ran cold. “Why didn’t you come get me, then?”

“Well, because all through this titillating romp into dreamland, I was thinking that as much as I was dying to call for help, I had no right to pester you. You didn’t need extra demands from your pesky houseguest. The last thing you deserved - and before you get on my case about it, this is just what was going through my head as I was dreaming; I couldn’t stop it - was Little Orphan Archangel to come whining to you about how the people you loved and trusted were out to get me.”

“I wouldn’t have - ”

“So when I woke up, you think I was ready to drag you into my umpteenth midnight meltdown? You needed sleep. And me, having no dignity, no control, not an ounce of self-respect - I curled up in bed and started bawling and then I squealed your name over and over again into my knees as if I expected your spidey senses to tingle and you’d come to rescue me from my own dadforsaken self. But there was also a very real possibility - or at least it felt real, you’ve got to understand that - that I’d go looking for you, and you’d be rightfully pissed off that I hadn’t allowed this shadow bitch to take me away.”

Sam stood up. Alarm flickered across Gabriel’s face. But then Sam crouched in front of him and said, “That kind of thing, Gabe? That kind of thing where you’re actually hurting yourself just to save face, or because you have it in your head that you shouldn’t be allowed access to compassion?” He cleared his throat in a hasty attempt to keep himself together. “That counts as an emergency. Always. Even if it happens ten times a day.”

Gabriel looked discomfited. “Sam - ”

“Don’t sit there and let him do that to you. Please. When that happens, you need help and you can’t afford to pretend you can wait for it.”

“I - ” Gabriel turned his face away. “Sam - ”

“What? What about that sounds so impossible to you?”

“It’s - it’s like I’ve said, I can’t live up to what you’re looking to get from me.”

“Gabriel, for the last time, I’m not looking for you to give me anything!”

“No, you are; you want me to heal, and I don’t know if I can. I certainly don’t have it in me right now - not yet.” Sam saw tears in his eyes. “And I’m sorry for that. I’m a tough nut to crack open and I get that. I exhaust you, though. Now, that’s partly on you for feeding into this idea that you can make me better, but mostly I’m just a difficult patient. I keep fighting your efforts.”

“You’re not putting up a fight with me. You’re fighting Asmodeus.”

“Oh yeah? If I’m working so hard to get him off my conscience, then riddle me this: why the hell should I feel anything other than total revulsion for him? Why is it that I think to myself, ‘I’m terrified and alone and I hope he shows up to help’? I couldn’t justify that if you paid me. And you can’t make this shit up, Sam. This is raw nonsense straight from the mind of a lost cause.”

“You’re allowed to grieve. I can’t say I understand; I haven’t been there. But it isn’t weird that you’d miss him sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, maybe it wouldn’t be weird if you didn’t happen to be around.”

“You had him for hundreds and hundreds of years. And he was the only thing you had. He was everything to you.”

Gabriel groaned. “When you put it that way, it sounds so gross. It really does.”

“You can’t just replace everything you had with something new, and expect it to feel like home. At least not right away.”

Gabriel kept his gaze averted. No further tears had spilled from his eyes, although Sam could tell that, if Gabriel was going to put up a real fight, it was in response to the urge to cry.

“Please,” Sam said. “Please don’t keep yourself locked away when you wake up like that, or when you feel like something’s wrong. I’m right here; we’re all right here. We’ll connect the dots where we can, okay? But come on - I mean, who even really cares? It’s a language - sort of. Or not. Maybe just a bunch of made-up words that we can use to create a language of our own. Can we look at it that way?”

Gabriel jerked his head - not quite a nod, not quite a refusal. “Impressively well fleshed-out for an improvised metaphor, Sam.”

“I really hate the picture you just painted. I hate that you didn’t go looking for someone, anyone, just because you were afraid of being a nuisance.”

Gabriel shook his head. “I - Sam, I couldn’t get anybody else. It had to be you.”

“So I would’ve helped you.”

“And are you forgetting the very real possibility that it could have reminded you of your own experience in the pit?”

“I guess it could have, sure. It didn’t just now. But even if it did, can we maybe not pay that any attention unless it actually becomes an issue? For now, I want you to worry about yourself - not about me.”

“Perfect. Seeing as I’ve been provided explicit instructions to avoid worrying about you, it’s smooth sailing from here on out. Thanks, Sam. Now I don’t have to concern myself with whether or not you’re keeping your own head above water. And if the message isn’t clear, let me translate: shut up and let me care about you, you self-effacing dingleberry.”

“I’m serious. In moments like that, you have to put everything else on hold; you’ve got to look for help first thing. Like I said, it’s an emergency. Imagine if it were Jack. You’d want to - ”

“Stop right there. Don’t put that image in my head, and don’t compare Jack to me. He’s an entirely different species, Sam, and I’m not just talking about his human DNA.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Okay?”

“He’s not me, he’s nothing like me; there’s nothing wrong with that kid. I don’t even like that he has to breathe the same air as me - so don’t insult him by pretending like the two of us deserve the same treatment.” Gabriel’s face was flushed. “And now I can’t shake that scenario you just threw into my brain and it’s making me feel like I have to puke.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam told Gabriel, and meant it: he didn’t like the vision either. After a moment’s consideration, he decided not to address some of the more problematic themes wrapped in Gabriel’s protestations. So he went on, “It doesn’t matter to me how many times you find yourself in that position, okay? It’s just as important if it happens once a week or every night for a month, Gabriel. I promise one of us can help, and if it has to be me then get me right away. Text me if you have to; I keep my phone next to my bed. You won’t get better if you keep this up. You won’t heal if you let these feelings just rot inside of you.” Sam’s knees were aching from his crouched position, so he stood up again and sat back down, this time in the chair beside Gabriel’s. “You don’t need to abuse yourself the way he did. Asmodeus wasn’t giving you love or anything else that you needed. And now you’re hurting yourself more by throwing away the real thing because you think you shouldn’t have it.”

Gabriel’s face was hard and closed-off, but the tears finally slipped free and he turned further away in a limp attempt to conceal them.

Not even sure where the question was coming from, or why he was asking it, Sam said: “What’s scaring you?”

He anticipated silence, or a tense “Nothing.” So he was taken aback when Gabriel replied, “I’m waiting for your speech. Your tactful ‘you and I both know it’s time for you to leave the Bunker’ speech.”

Sam balked. “Excuse me?”

“No one’s accusing you of intent to actually do it,” Gabriel told him. “I’m just answering the question: that’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I’m not - ”

“I know. I’m still scared of it, and I’m sorry about that.”

“Nobody here wants you to leave. Especially not me. I want you to stick around until you get sick of us.” Sam wondered if Gabriel could hear the tightness in his own throat. “I’m not changing my mind about that because you feel like you miss Asmodeus; I can be better than he was.”

“You think I don’t know that already? I’m sad, not simple. But that's just the issue: you’re providing your best, and I’m not taking it like I should be. Come on, doesn’t it make you feel just a little bit unappreciated to hear me say ‘I wish Asmodeus could be here to help’?”

“No, but it makes me worry about how bad he screwed with your mind.”

Gabriel didn’t reply, and Sam didn’t press him. In the distance, he could hear people moving around - probably Dean getting coffee, or Jack getting cereal, or both of them.

“Listen,” Gabriel said finally, “I hope you know I can see the difference. You’re not him; you couldn’t be any less like him. You’d never, ever do to me what he did to me, and I hate that, and I love that. It’s just that he did give me something - something I don’t know how to describe, if it wasn’t love. I wish he hadn’t played those games with me, but he did; he played them like they were guitar picks and I was an out-of-tune six-string. And you’ve gotta understand - what was I supposed to do, you know? When I got those glimpses of kindness? How could I not give in and just - just be happy about them? How could I not be scared to death that he would change his mind? And how could I not hate everything about myself when he inevitably made it clear that that kindness had been a mistake?”

Sam realized he couldn’t speak, so he only nodded.

“But,” Gabriel pleaded, “I don’t want him. I don’t want Asmodeus, Sam; I want you.”

Sam swallowed. “Good. Because I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “Hey - since you’re in the swing of it, what else do you want right now?”

Gabriel leaned away. “What?”

“Right now. What do you want? Tell me.”

Gabriel floundered. “I - um. Nothing.”

Sam waited.

“Um,” Gabriel stammered, “The coffee, I guess.”

Sam passed it to him. “Might be cold.”

“I don’t care. But, uh - ”

“You want something else?”

“No.”

“You were going to ask.”

“I …” Gabriel shuddered. Sam had the urge to wrap a blanket around him. Perhaps after this he would offer to take him back to Sam’s own bedroom and let him get a few hours of sleep there.

Gabriel opened his arms.

"Oh," said Sam, and leaned forward.

Gabriel didn't speak, but he did relax into the embrace.

That was all the thanks Sam could have asked for.

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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years

Text

I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter Eleven - Might Stop (Me) You Bein’ Miserable

Her flight arrived at close to midnight a few days after they had chatted on the phone. Despite his usual hatred of airports, Matty felt like going to one this time was going to be worth it a lot more than all of those other times that he had been forced to be in one. So, he drove himself down, threw a beanie over his messy hair, pushed his way through the crowd, and waited patiently at the arrivals terminal. He could feel the excitement bubbling away in his brain. The rough plan was to see how things went in the first couple of days, then if it went well to take her on a proper date and tell her then. George had helped him a bit with what would probably be the best plan of action, as his first suggestion of ‘why can’t I just tell her as soon as she steps off the plane’ probably wasn’t exactly suitable. As soon as he saw her step out of the gate, he couldn’t help the grin that split across his face. All of his worrying over the last two weeks melted away. He had forgotten how much of a visceral reaction she had over him.

It was safe to say that as much as she was expecting to see Matty at the gate this time, she wasn’t expecting him to half-run over and pick her up in a hug when she was three steps into the terminal. It was strange after how evasive he had seemed only two weeks ago to see him now so clingy and open with how excited he was about her being in London with him. Not that she was complaining, she was just curious as to what had changed. He also seemed oddly jovial being in a place that he usually hated. It was also strange to see how tired Matty looked in the airport. The bags under his eyes seemed to rival the weight of her luggage, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a while.

“Are you doing all right?” She asked in concern after their initial greetings.

“Yeah, why do you ask?” He shot back over his shoulder as he ushered her back towards his car.

“You just…” It was hard for her to pinpoint what was off. He seemed entirely happy and like his usual self, but physically he looked run down. “You look like you’re pretty worn out.”

“I’ve never been better.” He grinned.

On the way back to his place he talked about everything that had happened in the last couple of weeks, as well as everything that they were driving past (even though it wasn’t exactly easy to see these landmarks he was pointing out in the middle of the night) and also everything he was excited to show her while she was here. He didn’t get hyperactive like this super often, but it was endearing to see him so enthusiastic. They reached his front door, and she heard him take in a deep breath as he turned the key in the lock.

“This is my humble abode.” He stated proudly as he swung the door open. They took a few steps inside as she looked around.

“It doesn’t look very humble, Matty.” She noted, taking in the room. Everything was concrete. The floors, the walls, the ceilings, all of it. There were huge windows everywhere that she could only imagine let in a ridiculous amount of natural light during the day, the ceilings were very high with some exposed beams at the top, the decorating style was minimal but clearly to a certain refined and vintage sort of theme. “Minimalist maybe, but not humble.”

As she stepped into the lounge room, the overwhelming smell of weed hit her nostrils. “Good lord, Matty. Are you trying to hotbox your house or something?”

He laughed loudly. “Sorry, I get used to it and forget other people aren’t.” He said as he opened a window. As the echo of pitter-pattering paws could be heard coming down the hallway, a massive smile found its way onto his face. “And this,” He started, turning in the direction of the sound. “is Allen!” He beamed as a large brown dog rounded the corner excitedly. After some love and praise from his owner, the bullmastiff came bounding up to her.

“How do you go about having a dog when you’re on tour all the time?” She questioned in between greeting the overzealous pooch.

“My mate Sam looks after him whenever I’m away. Which is most of the time, really.” He laughed honestly. “But it’s nice to be able to steal him back for a bit when I’m home.”

Once Allen had calmed down about a new person being in the house, Matty continued his tour. Despite that it definitely wasn’t a house she’d ever consider buying herself, objectively it was a very nice place. It was very… ‘Matty’, for lack of a better adjective. Eventually they arrived at his bedroom, which was literally just a bed, two small bedside tables and a guitar sitting in the corner. There was a slightly awkward pause in their tour as she was reminded of the bags in her hands.

“So… uh… where am I sleeping?” She asked hesitantly.

He gave a short chuckle. “Your room is down here.” He said as he motioned down the hall. The spare room looked much the same as his, just it didn’t have an ensuite attached. “It’s pretty late, so I’ll let you get settled and get some rest. Give me a shout if you need anything.” She nodded a bit as she hauled her bags into the room. “Oh, and,” He started, waiting until she turned back to him before he continued, “you know I always have an open-door policy in effect for you, love.” He added with a wink, only getting an eye roll in response. “G’night!”

* * *

In the light of day, his house was very bright and inviting. She had crashed pretty quickly after he left her to go to sleep, but was woken up at about eight once the sunlight started streaming in through the massive window opposite her bed. As she got up and padded around the house looking for her friend, she got a better look at the way he chose to surround himself when he was at home. The décor matched Matty to a tee, and it was nice to finally see things that he regularly mentioned like his favourite books and his vinyl. She was greeted by Allen first, before she finally found him sitting in his small courtyard, an open book sitting on his knee and a cup of tea in his hand. It reminded her of when she had been watching him in the studio a few weeks ago, he just seemed so peaceful and in his element. He glanced up as she approached the patio doorway.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t think you’d be up yet.” He smiled as he shut the book and put it on the table next to him. “I didn’t wanna wake you too early in case you were jetlagged.” He added as she took a seat next to him. The morning air was chilly, but sitting in the sun outside made it a lot more tolerable.

“Your house has too many windows for me to sleep in too much.” She chuckled. He nodded in understanding as he took a sip from his mug.

“I like it bright. Helps stop me from feeling overwhelmed about being cooped up and stuck inside when I’m at home for long periods.” He explained with a shrug.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” She asked.

“I figured I could show you around a bit, and then I think the guys are wanting to come ‘round in the evening. They’re super keen to have you here, too.” He suggested, that eager smile returning that she had seen a lot last night. “Or if you weren’t up for that, we could just stay in and binge trashy TV shows.” He offered with a laugh.

“It’d be nice to see what Matthew Healy’s usual haunts are.” She replied.

He quirked an eyebrow at the use of his full name, but pressed on. “Sounds like a plan. If you wanna start getting ready, I’ll work out where we can hit up today.” He said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket to do some quick googling. It took a few minutes to find where the guest bathroom was located in his house given that pretty much every single room looked the same at first, and then quite a few more minutes to work out where the hell Matty kept any spare towels considering he had barely any cupboards anywhere, but eventually she was on the right track to being presentable after a long-haul flight. He’d stopped her before she’d gone to make herself any breakfast, suggesting they go to one particular location first that would tackle that issue for her.

After locking up the house, they headed in the direction of stop number one. Everything about London was quite starkly different from anywhere else in the world that she had been. The architecture and history were fairly prominent everywhere you looked. It surprised her slightly that it was only after a couple of minutes walking that Matty motioned to a building, saying that this was where they had been heading. “I don’t drink a lot of it, but this is my favourite coffee shop.” He said as they stopped in front of a little hole-in-the-wall café. The only sign to alert someone that this place might serve hot beverages was a tiny plaque next to the doorway. “It’s a bit rubbish, really. But it’s quiet and I can get stuff done here if I’m not getting anythin’ done at home.” He shrugged with a laugh as he held the door open for her. It had a very homely feel inside. The lighting was warm and inviting, the shop smelled of fresh brewed coffee and baked goods, there was a couch by the door. It had all the signs of a good café. But he was right about it being quiet. There were only six tables in the narrow building and none of them were occupied. They sat down at the table furthest away from the door as she flipped through the simple menu that they had on offer. Once they worked out what they wanted from their limited options, they placed their orders - which were currently the only things being prepared and thus arrived at their table very quickly. Her growling stomach thoroughly approved of this.

The food wasn’t bad at all, and the coffee itself was pretty damn good. Clearly Matty’s standards of a good coffee shop were a lot higher than her own. As they chipped away at their late breakfast, his overexcitable demeanour and sudden invitation for her to come out here played on Y/N/N’s mind. It felt like something had shifted. Not something major, but enough of a something to make Matty act slightly different than usual. And as much as Matty had said that he would see her soon whenever they’d finished up the tour, she knew full well that Matty said a lot of things he didn’t necessarily follow through with. So, she hadn’t really expected it to be this soon. Or at his house.

“How come you invited me out here?” She asked curiously as she took a sip of her coffee.

“Well, I’ve seen your place, it’s only fair you see mine.” He lied. This didn’t seem like the right time to blurt out ‘Hey, turns out I’ve actually been into you for a really fucking long time and just didn’t realise it. Surprise!’ He figured that could wait until later. “And it worked well with our downtime. I’d finished all the stuff I wanted to get done at home.” He added. At least that part wasn’t a lie. He couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t seem satisfied with that answer.

“Fair enough.” She nodded, deciding to drop it. For now, anyway.

“Are you enjoying it so far?” He asked, trying to keep his excitement about having her here from boiling over.

“I’ve been here for all of about nine hours, Matty.” She chuckled.

“Oh… Yes. That’s fair.” He said with a light laugh.

As soon as they had finished up, a waitress came over to clear away their dishes. She was surprised to see that no payment was exchanged before they left, until Matty explained that whenever he’s home, he just opens a tab with them and pays it off before he goes on tour again. “What’s next?” She asked.

“Allen’s favourite spot, c’mon.” He grinned, all but jumping out of his skin in excitement. They walked for about fifteen minutes before they approached a small, fenced in park. It wasn’t a huge amount of space, but for what it lacked in area it more than made up for in scenery. The dense foliage around the fence line made it seem a lot bigger than it actually was once you were inside, as it covered up the boundaries. There was a man-made creek in the middle of it that flowed from the higher side of the park down to the lower, with trees scattered along the edges. It had a couple of walking trails along the outside of the park that all met up in the middle, which had flower beds and benches intermittently placed along them. It was a very calming spot.

“This place is really beautiful.” She said in awe.

“I really love it. It’s so serene.” Matty chimed in, before being interrupted by a dog loudly barking on the other side of the park. “When there’s less dogs, anyway.” He added. “Allen loves to jump into that damn river and it’s so fucking muddy in there.” Matty laughed loudly. “Every time I take him here, I have to be prepared to bath him when we get home.” He said as he walked over to one of the benches and took a seat.

“Do you come here often without him?” She questioned.

“Sometimes.” He said with a shrug. “But I don’t often find the time to. Allen makes me find time.”

They spent a bit of time in the park chatting. Matty mostly told stories of the many naughty things that Allen had done as a rebellious teenager in this park, which included hopping the fence numerous times. Their conversation pushed them through into the early afternoon.

“We probably have enough time for one more spot.” He said as he slid his phone back into his pocket after verifying the time.

“Sure, let’s get going then.” She grinned. So far, she was enjoying this short tour of Matty’s version of London. It felt like she was getting to know him a little better, and it was nice to feel like they were still close after how ignored she had felt at the tour after party. The last place on their list was back in the direction that they had originally come, but nearly half an hour’s walk away from the park. And she had to admit that when they got there, it was fairly underwhelming. “A studio? Really?” She asked with a roll of her eyes.

“It’s not on the list for the reasons you might think.” He challenged with a laugh as he unlocked the door and ushered her inside. It had a very similar layout to the studio that they had used while on tour, but she supposed designing something like this was probably a case of ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ They walked through the building towards the back until they came to a staircase. After three flights, they finally reached a door. “You ready?” He asked as he started turning the doorknob, a look of childish glee on his features.

“I mean… I guess?” She was suddenly unsure about what she had agreed to. Ready for what?

It turned out that the doorway lead through to the roof. From this spot, they had a pretty clear view across the city. She had to admit that it was just a tad impressive.

“If we’ve been here all day recording and end up going into the night, the view from up here is spectacular.” Matty explained with a nostalgic look in his eyes.

“I can only imagine.” She said with a nod, trying to take in the vast landscape.

“Coming up here also helps me clear my head if I’m stuck on something in the studio.” He continued. “It’s not quite as nice as the studios we’ve hired out in the countryside. Those are proper scenic. But this definitely gets the job done.” He finished with a chuckle. A few quiet minutes passed between them as they both took in the sights, before Matty’s constant need to fill the silence reared its head. “So?” He asked eventually, looking at her expectantly.

“What?” She asked back with a frown.

“Do my ‘usual haunts’ live up to the hype?” He elaborated, the morbid curiosity coming through in his voice.

“I guess they’re okay.” She shrugged, but the joking smile betrayed her nonchalance. “They’re really nice.” She admitted. “You seem to have some really good spots sorted out.”

A proud grin quickly found its way across his features. “You enjoyed your day, then?” He questioned.

“I would’ve enjoyed my day regardless of what we did.” She answered. For the first time, he was able to recognise the uncomfortable feeling in his chest at her comment and pin it down as not being a bad thing. Rather, it just spurred on his endless enthusiasm.

Seeing Matty so open and vulnerable was starting to throw her a bit off balance. He was usually filled with a mix of arrogance, sarcasm, humour, suggestive comments and maybe just a little bit of honest emotion. But since she stepped off that plane it was a hell of a lot more of the latter compared to anything else. First, he invited her into his home, then he was constantly sincerely enthusiastic about her company, and now he was showing her his favourite spots in London. It wasn’t exactly a part of his usual demeanour around her to be so genuine. He’d said so himself that he liked that he didn’t have to be on his best behaviour in her company. As she stared out at the city laid before them, she had to wonder what the hell had happened to the Matty she spent the last six weeks with. She’d missed him like crazy over the last fortnight and now she was second-guessing if she really knew this man at all.

“I’d really like to show you more, if there was more time.” He added the last part of his sentence like it reminded him of something. The faraway look he got in his eyes when he said it made her want to ask him about it, but he kept talking before she got the chance. “But we’d better be getting back. The boys will be heading ‘round soon.” He huffed with purpose as he started heading back towards the door.

They got back to his house shortly before the sun started setting. Which unfortunately didn’t leave them a huge amount of time between when they arrived and when the rest of the band were set to rock up. It wasn’t long at all before there was a knock at the door and Matty jumped up from the couch to answer it. When he came back, the crew were all together. It made her smile to see the four of them all in the same room again. The world felt a little bit more complete when they were together. But she didn’t have long to process that thought as she heard her name being called from every which direction by the three missing members of The 1975. They quickly poured into Matty’s lounge room and started wrapping her up in hugs.

“It’s only been a couple of weeks.” She pointed out, slightly surprised at how intense her welcome was turning out to be.

“Yeah, but it was weird not seeing you after seeing you every day for six weeks.” George said with a pout.

“There’s been nobody here to keep Matt in line. You have been sorely missed.” Ross laughed loudly.

“Hey, lay off.” Matty chuckled as he shoved the bassist’s shoulder playfully.

Once a few quick greetings were given, and some money was exchanged between Ross, Adam and George for some reason, the alcohol and snacks were unloaded on Matty’s kitchen counter. Anyone would’ve assumed that they were throwing a party for two dozen people for how much stuff had been brought over. But Adam reassured her that they were very big on having options available. They decided that it would be a nice evening to sit outside in the courtyard and play cards, so once drinks were in hand, they all began making their way to the outdoor table. Matty and Y/N/N were the last to get their beverages, mostly because he just couldn’t decide what to pour. Eventually he settled on something worthy enough for his liver and made a drink, only to offer it to her first.

“Get drunk with me.” He said as he held the glass out to her.

“Sure, I’ll have a drink with you.” She shrugged as she reached out to take it. He pulled his hand back slightly.

“That’s not what I said.” He pointed out. She mulled over his words for a moment.

“You really want to get wasted on a Monday night?” She frowned with a light laugh.

“It’s not like we have any plans tomorrow.” He reasoned.

“I suppose…” She hummed thoughtfully, before deciding that there was really no reason not to. “All right, then.”

After a few hours sat around Matty’s small outdoor table, their catch up was over and drinks were flowing nicely. A few drinking games had been played to try and keep everyone from feeling the bite in the air and to keep conversation alive. Y/N/N had passed the point of tipsy a little while ago, but the rest of the band still seemed a few steps behind her. Matty, true to his word of getting drunk together, was matching drink for drink but she supposed that maybe he just held his alcohol better than she did. The boys were playing some card game that she had long since lost interest in, so she had opted instead to watch something more interesting - Matty. She had rested her head across her arm on the table, partially to be able to stare at him uninterrupted, and also in part to try and help with the spinning in her brain. He had the stub of a joint sitting in between his fingers as he idly stared at the cards in his hand. Every now and again he took a drag on it and blew the smoke upwards, trying occasionally to make rings above him. He would watch them dissipate into the night sky before attempting again. His hair was half falling into his face despite his best attempts to keep it back. That fucking fluffy mop of hair. It was going to be the death of her. A little voice in the back of her brain felt like it would probably feel pretty pleasant to run a hand through it. Maybe that was why he did it so often. The rest of the band were still deep in conversation, to which he threw in the odd remark every now and again. She was enjoying just having the moment to study him. If she stared at him for this long when he was actually paying attention, he would’ve given her shit for it a good few minutes ago. His movements all seemed calculated as he played his cards and planned his replies, the expression in his dark brown eyes shifting from relaxed to concentrated whenever he had to do something.

Everything about him was just constantly dragging her in, and it was safe to say that she had taken the bait. Hook, line and sinker. She’d been dying to see him after how they left things on tour. Especially after the fact that she had just been about to finally give him what he wanted. It was like she’d finally allowed herself the chance to be openly interested in him, only to have to cram her feelings back up again. His offer to come out here certainly hadn’t been unwelcome, it was just unexpected. That coupled with his sincerity since she arrived was both heart-warming and also mildly disconcerting as she couldn’t pinpoint where it was coming from. But at that moment, all she could think of was how happy she was right now. To be here with him, and their friends, in his house, after a day of being shown his favourite nooks and crannies of London. He seemed to be going out of his way to give her a good day. This was a Matty that she only ever saw glimpses of most of the time. As that thought crossed her mind, he glanced down at her to check that she was okay. Considering that he hadn’t heard anything from her in a little while he was slightly worried that she had passed out or something, but he was surprised to find her staring back up at him. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but she just continued watching him, now not looking away from his gaze.

“What?” He eventually asked.

“I’m super into you.” She answered honestly.

For a brief moment, he was fairly certain that the planet physically stopped spinning and that time stood still. He let out a short laugh in disbelief at her blunt response to try and cover up his rapidly increasing pulse. The alcohol had been intended to loosen up his own tongue about internalised feelings, not hers. “Really?” He asked, grabbing his phone off of the table and holding it towards her. “Can you just say that again into this recording device so that I can play it back to you when you’re sober?”

“Sober me knows it too.” She said with a nod. The wave of relief that washed over him at hearing those words was unparalleled. He choked back his feelings for a minute to continue his train of thought.

“Then why doesn’t sober you ever fucking admit it?” He asked as he reached out and tapped her forehead.

“You have a big enough ego as it is.” She said as she waved her hand dismissively in his direction. He couldn’t deny that was a solid argument. “And also admitting it means having difficult conversationsssss.” She added, slurring her words slightly.

He frowned at that. “I mean, it doesn’t have to.”

“It does. It does for me.” She said with a nod. “I’m gonna get another drink.” She declared as she stood up and walked inside. Matty watched her carefully, noticing the slight stumble in her step. He threw his cards face up onto the table, following her into the house.

“Guess he’s not coming back.” Ross chuckled.

“I’m taking his chips.” George said quickly before anybody could stop him.

“Conversations like what?” Matty asked as he pulled the glass door shut behind him and followed her into the kitchen.

“Like where we end up after I say that.” She explained as she glanced over all of the bottles of liquor spread across the counter.

Fuck. That was pretty much Matty’s number one worry as well. But he wasn’t about to let that stop him from at least trying. “Why do we have to think ten steps ahead?” He asked, racking his brain for an actual end game plan. “Can’t we just… start with step one?” He offered, seeing her go for the bottle of vodka and moving to grab the coke for her.

“Step one is a slippery slope to step ten.” She shot back with a pointed look.

“I promise I’ll slam on the breaks at step five.” She gave a light laugh at his joke as she poured her drink. “Really though, would it be so bad to see where it takes us?” He questioned, leaning against the counter.

She sighed as she put the coke back into the fridge. “But you still don’t have any idea where that might be, Matty.”

“Why’s it up to me?” He huffed as he pulled a hand through his hair. Why did he have to be the one making the big calls all the time?

“Because you’re the one in the world-famous band who has to work and travel all the time.” She had a valid point. “You need a plan about how to make that work.”

She started heading back towards the door to continue chatting with the rest of the boys, only to feel Matty’s hand catch her wrist and pull her back towards him.

“Wait, I-” He started, feeling like he had more to say before this conversation was left to drunken half-memories. But for a man who was usually so eloquent with his words, his mouth was running dry now. And as the seconds ticked by in silence the tension in the air just continued to grow. He glanced down at his hand still on her wrist, wanting to find the solution to all of this that would instantly fix his problems and stop this burning feeling in his chest. It was almost definitely the alcohol talking but she was finally fucking over waiting and dealing with the constant flirting. So, she leaned in to kiss him, thinking now was at last the time to just give in. Just get it over with. Let herself be into him. Let herself act on it. Only to feel his hand on her shoulder holding her back. As much as he had been dying for this - her, it hadn’t exactly been his intention to make a move when she had just made it clear that she was waiting on him. He couldn’t let her throw herself under the bus like that, not after he knew how much she had already had to drink. He flashed her an apologetic look. “Sorry, love. That wasn’t…” Fuck, why couldn’t he just get the words out? “Not right now.”

“Why?” She frowned, eventually finding herself laughing. “It’s you who’s been pushing this for the last six months.”

“We are definitely not on the same level of inebriation right now.” He said with a small chuckle. “Another time.” He promised.

As soon as they stepped back outside, George could feel the awkward atmosphere that wafted out with them. He hadn’t quite heard what they’d been saying at the table before they went inside, but knowing Matty’s intentions when he invited her out here, it was probably safe to assume the topic. As opposed to letting his two friends stew over whatever had just transpired George got to quick work on changing the topic and including them in the conversation to get their minds off of it. Within a few minutes the vibe in the room had gone back to what it was at the start of the night. Drinks continued into the early morning before one by one people started putting themselves to bed. The rest of the band decided to crash at Matty’s place to save themselves trying to get home while they were shitfaced. Ross passed out on the lounge, Adam managed to make his way to the empty spare room, George found somewhere or other to rest his head. Which left just Y/N/N and Matty sat outside finishing off their last drinks. Their conversation earlier in the night wasn’t playing on their minds as much as it would be if they were sober, but it still sat somewhere in the back of their brains, waiting to be addressed. Matty decided that would be best left until tomorrow.

He took the last sip of his drink before setting the glass on the table. “Ready to call it a night?” He asked, stifling a yawn.

“Mmm… sure.” She muttered with a shrug. “You gotta carry me, though.”

He gave an incredulous laugh in response. “I have to what?”

“Carry me.” She repeated.

“Why on earth would I do that?” He asked as he stood up from his chair, feeling his head spin for a moment before he felt sure of his feet. That last joint probably wasn’t wise.

“Because I’m too drunk to navigate your treacherous staircase back to my room.” She explained with a pout. He looked down at her, feeling his resolve quickly crumble around him.

“I’ll help you; I’m not carrying you.” He offered as he held his hand out to her to help her up.

“Fiiiiiine.” She huffed as she took his hand. He wrapped an arm around her and tried his best to manage not one, but now two drunk people getting up his concrete stairs. After much laughter and stumbling, they managed to make it to the first floor of his house.

He led her back to the spare room that she was set up in, making sure that she was safely on the bed before pulling his arm away.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He said as she kicked her shoes off and crawled into bed.

“Where are you going?” She asked when he started making his way out.

“My room?” He answered with a confused frown.

“Why?” She questioned as she rolled over. He didn’t really know how to answer that. “You should just stay here.” She mumbled with her face half in the pillow. Fucking hell. First the kiss and now this? It was taking every ounce of his self-restraint and sense of standards to not just say yes. Was this what she had felt like whenever he pulled shit like this on tour?

“Not tonight.” He chuckled as he switched the light off. “Sleep well.”

Last Chapter

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#Matty Healy x Reader #Matthew Healy x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein

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ohgoddard · 3 years

Text

Truth, Justice, and the Symbol of Peace.3.

Musutafu, Japan

The TV had been on non-stop since Izuku left for that walk, turned to the news as always. But Inko noticed something different. The table that sat before the TV no longer found itself covered in used tissues and All-Might figures. No, this time it was covered in numerous notebooks and textbooks he had either bought from stores or checked out from the local library. Books on electrical engineering, basic mechanical construction, and a guide on how to box like a champ.

He started to come home late from school every day now. The first few times he had come home sweaty and tired, she thought he finally picked himself up and joined an after-school sports team. The books he bought and brought home with him could be written off as a new interest to keep himself busy, and maybe a renewed interest in his studies. He has always been an investigative child, one who could notice something about a person and dress them down to their barest personality characteristics.

But then he started to come home dirty and bruised.

Now, Inko was no idiot. She was not so dumb as not to notice this change of appearance. It didn’t happen much, maybe once in a few weeks. He would leave for school, come home at 7 or 8, and be hiding all sorts of bruises under his hat or jacket. Is he getting bullied at school again?

Just when he started to feel better, she saw him grimace when he walked. And every time she would ask about it, he would give her the same sheepish smile he always gave and say something like, “Don’t worry about it mom. Nothing bad is happening at school, its all good.”

But she knew something was up. You do not raise a kid for a decade and a half without picking up on their ticks and tells. No, he was up to something. But as much as Inko suspected something… she didn’t push it.

Izuku has been the happiest he’s been since he first saw that video of All-Might, carrying the survivors from the flaming rubble of a fallen building. His gigantic smile reflected onto her son’s, his words making him physically bouncing with excitement and amazement. She had missed that yearning of his. So when he walked in late at night, no matter how exhausted and bruised he tried to hide, she let it slide. Every worry that she was being the bad mother was beaten back, never satiated but lessened, when she saw that same light in his eyes. His spirit was back.

=====================================================================

“I don’t have powers.”

Those words have not left his head since he heard them. They stayed in his head at school, on his walk home, when he slept. He had no powers. The thought of someone taking down two thugs with quirks, no matter how low level they were, when you didn’t have one was astounding. More so than that, it was so cool. The flips, acrobatics while using confusing gadgets that can stop a large man in its tracks and enabling him to climb buildings? Unheard of! People don’t make gadgets to be a hero on their own, they use them as additives to their quirks. He just had none.

And Izuku wanted to be like him. It was all that he thought of. He kept the news on in his home and was always recording, just in case he was found on camera. But he has kept a low profile. Criminals and villains were sometimes found hanging upside down and unconscious, but no one in sight to take credit. No calling card, nothing. The cries of vigilantism came from the people and the Hero Organization, but they literally could not do anything. No one could find this guy.

No one but Izuku has even seen him.

But seeing him once was all it took. And it awakened him to something. He could be a hero without a quirk. He’ll just have to work harder for it. So he started running after school. It was hell at first, the miles seemed to go on forever. It didn't help that he started lifting at that time too. Sneaking into the school weight-room after it closed and the sports teams had left after practice, he struggled to lift even the smallest of weights. Weeks he did this, with only the smallest gains being noticed physically. For a small kid to be doing this, he was risking a lot of bodily damage if he didn’t do it right. Which he often did, dropping weights on himself when he became too confident in his strength. Sometimes he pushed himself too much when running and pulled muscles. Sometimes he tried to do acrobatics and fell flat on his chest, landing on the rocks near the stream under the bridge where he practiced in secret. So every night he came home, tired and bruised sometimes. He started to push himself more and more, and so more and more bruises came.

The concerning questions his mom made to try to find out about his activities he lied about. He felt bad, but she would not let him do this if she knew. He needed to do this. So he said he was alright, nothing bad going on. Just a middle-schooler coming home late because he’s finally getting involved with the school clubs and teams. The bruises? Just an accident from practice, no worries there!

Lying made him uncomfortable, but he needed to keep doing this. He would be a hero, the #1.

And he’d do it his way.

Metropolis, Illinois

“So everyone has powers over there, huh?”

All-Might was sitting across from Clark Kent in a very busy diner, and felt very uncomfortable. Despite Clark Kent being a huge man, All-Might far outweighed him. So the clothes he had lent him were a tight fit, at best. The diner was your typical greasy spoon, the chromed bar tops and smoking waitresses (which is not an adjective on their looks). Clark Kent was sipping on a small cup of coffee, turned an almost beige color by the amount of cream and sugar he put into it. His suit was a baggy business variety, two sizes too big for him. It made him look far more small than he was, the glasses and hair style in much the same way. Had All-Might not seen Superman himself before, he would have never guessed this was the same person.

Which made him wonder how anyone did not recognize him. He was a giant man, one who stood out even among the crowds in his home. The clothes he had been lent gave a tight fit, making him appear a gorilla in a business suit. His blond hair had been combed over and over again by Wonder Woman, who’s name he learned to be Diana. How it happened was a blur, her combing his hair. The same day Superman held a meeting concerning him, he asked if anyone could help him with his appearance, to make him easier to hide in normal society. Diana had declared such a thing a mockery of her time. The memory loss occurred when Superman had said, “What? Don’t think you can do it?”

For ten straight minutes, All-Might found himself being meticulously combed by her. He was not entirely against the idea, him being human and all. However, he could do without the constant mutterings that she uttered about the situation and Superman and where he could put a stick of a thing called Kryptonite. Superman had assured him that no one would recognize him from the behemoth that saved the day a few days ago. And to his credit, no one did.

“Well, not everyone.” All-Might adjusted the necktie he had on, which was actually two tied together. The comment illicit an eyebrow raise from Clark, who put down his coffee cup.

“Really? How is it chosen who gets powers and not?”

“Its an evolutionary trait. And not everyone’s power is the same, they more often than not reflect their personality and upbringing. We call it a ‘quirk’. Like a little tick in people’s personalities.”

Clark rubbed his chin, intrigued. “That is very interesting. And what is your.. Quirk?”

All-Might smiled internally, already having fun with the conversation he was going to have.

“Oh, I don’t have one.” He then took a small sip from the comically small coffee cup.

“Really.” The voice of suspicion that Clark had let out was palpable. A small snicker escaped All-Might. “No, really! I have no quirk!”

“I find that very hard to believe, All-M- “ He stopped talking. “Actually, what is your name? If you do not mind me asking that, it would just make conversation a lot easier.”

He pondered on it. There is no one in this world, save for All For One, that knows his name. Nor would giving it out put anyone but this Superman at risk, someone he believes can hold his own.

“Toshinori Yagi. Toshinori is ok.”

Clark Kent smiled. “Alright then, Toshinori. I still find it hard to believe you have no quirk.”

A low laugh left All-Might as he bit into a pastry Clark had ordered him.

“I tell the truth! I have no quirk. What power you have seen was not mine.”

“Then whose power was it?”

Clark could tell he struck a nerve, the heart rate in All-Might changing.

Damnit Clark, he thought, spend your whole life on Earth and you still can’t talk to a person.

“I, uh, would prefer to keep that to myself if you would not mind.”

Clark nodded. Unlike the others, he did not suspect Toshinori of foul play. He could sense a true hero in him. He had no bad values, always striving for the same things Clark did. Maybe that's why he just...trusted him. That, and Clark was generally just a trusting person.

“Well,” Clark said in the tone someone speaks when they want to end a conversation that has taken a turn south, “it's about time we get your first day at the Planet.”

All-Might stood up, collecting his large overcoat that he had been lent. “I cannot thank you enough for this, Mr.Kent. I need some of your currency, I feel bad for mooching off of you and the rest of the League.” A smile grew on Clark’s face, “Please, call me Clark. Now there’s a few things you need to know about your new job. One, you’re door security for the Planet. A few weeks ago there was an armed robbery that really shook the building. You should take care of it easily. Two, there's a few people you need to look out for inside. One is Jimmy, a redhead. A clumsy kid, so you gotta make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”

All-Might had pulled a notepad from his inside jacket pocket that Clark had left there when he last wore it and was writing furiously. And messily. Good thing I didn’t get him the reporter job. “Jimmy...alright, anyone else?”

“There is a woman by the name of Lois Lane. I won’t need to describe her, believe me you’ll know when its her. She is a stubborn headed person, so she kinda gets into trouble a lot. Look out for her, alright?”

After another minute of furious writing, he tucked the notebook into the jacket. “Alright. Though, Mr,K- Clark. I am very bad at talking with women. A terrible track record.”

Perfect. “Don’t you worry. You’ll get the hang of it.”

=====================================================================

The uniform the Daily Planet gave Toshinori Yagi was equally ill-fitting as the rest of the clothing he had worn in this new world. He had a sad feeling that the first paychecks he collected would go to custom tailoring. He stands at the lobby of the building, right in front of the two big doors that hundreds of employees walk in and out of every day. Really, nothing seems to happen for a long time.

The biggest event on his first day of work was meeting the woman known as Lois Lane.

When she walked in, had to almost slap himself. She was gorgeous. And she was also with Clark Kent. Toshinori got an idea why he wanted him to look after her. As she walked in, engaged in a heated conversation with Clark about a story he somehow stole from her, she looked his direction and halted in her steps.

“Lois? Why the sudden stop?” Clark had walked beyond her spot, turning to face her.

“And here I thought you were the biggest brick wall in the Planet. Clark, when did we get a door guard?”

“I don’t know, I never seem to catch up on the memos.”

Lois rolled her eyes and walked right up to Toshinori. “Uh..h.. Hello ma’am. How may I help you?”

She smirked. “And so polite too! You pick him out, Smallville?”

“Hey now! I don’t have a monopoly on politeness in the city you know.”

As they left for the elevator, Clark gave him a sneaky thumbs up before going up.

This is going to be a very stressful job.

Then the road outside exploded.

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