#the other three times i had oops all pointy bits
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Title: Omens
Rating: Teens and up (T for language)
Warnings: None apply
Word Count: 1100
Tags: Season 1, Winchesters x Reader, no romance, YOU is reader, Sam and Dean happen along to save reader, Original Supernatural monster, angst, drama, hunt of the week type story
Summary: You think Lady Luck is simply being a vindictive bitch when you experience a rush of bad luck until a freak encounter with Sam and Dean
If luck were a lady, well, she was a real bitch.
Why else would everything that happened that night, happen?
You tried to shrug it off initially.
Shit happened as your old man liked saying.
Plus, some things were just freak occurrences.
Microwaves go out.
Pipes bust.
Roofs leak.
Electronics die.
Cars break down.
All on the same day, though?
That was a bit much for even you to believe.
You rolled with the punches, though. Took it all in stride. Wasn’t like you had much choice really. Thought things would improve once you got to work.
Oh, boy were you wrong.
So, so terribly wrong.
Your key broke off in the padlock on your locker.
The ink ran out of your pen.
You dropped a tray of glasses.
One tray you could say oops.
Three?
No.
Luckily, your boss didn’t pitch the fit you expected he would.
“Shit happens, kid,” was all he said before he went back to his nightly poker game. “Cost to replace ‘em comes outta your paycheck.”
As if you could afford the deduction.
You ate it, though, because twenty bucks for a new set of glasses was far better than being unemployed and homeless.
Luckily, the bar was hopping that night. Playoffs and holidays always netted you extra dough. You picked up some serious change from a group of your regulars celebrating one of them retiring from their shit job at the steel mill and another becoming a first-time grandpa.
The tall, reed-thin man seated in one corner was the only other downside to your night.
You encountered a lot of weirdoes in your time at the bar but this guy took the cake.
He reminded you of Monsieur D'Arque from Beauty and the Beast.
Stringy black hair framed a pockmarked face with a scar zigzagging from the corner of thin lips to a pointy chin.
His eyes were what stuck with you the most.
They were an almost hypnotic shade of gold.
You shuddered whenever you passed his table.
You couldn’t refuse to serve him, though.
Not after you dropped ten more glasses, broke four bottles of beer, and sliced your finger open while cutting limes.
Closing time came and the bar emptied.
“How you getting home?” Darlene asked as you cleaned up. “Your brother giving you a ride?”
“Tommy left yesterday for school.”
“Forgot he left.” She grabbed a rag and started drying the glasses you washed. “I can ask Daria if we can drop you at your place.”
“That’s going out of your way.”
“Daria won’t mind.”
“Thanks,” you said. “But I’ll walk. I don’t live far.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Positive.”
You finished up and exited the bar with Darlene a half hour later.
“You sure you don’t want me to ask Daria to drop you at your place?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, well, night then.”
“Night.”
You spot an old car as you cross the parking lot and figure somebody else encountered Lady Luck.
It was a nice looking car, too. Shiny black body, chrome grill, shiny aluminum wheels.
Someone clearly loved it.
Making it strange they’d leave it in a parking lot instead of getting it towed home.
You hoped it’d still be there when they returned for it in the morning.
And be in one piece.
A chill snaked its way down your back despite the night being unseasonably warm. You reach into your pocket for the can of mace you carried for any sort of situations and quickened your pace. A figure came around the corner just as you reached it. Your instincts shouted at you to run but your feet refused to obey.
The man stepped into the light and you recognized him as Monsieur D'Arque.
“Good evening, my dear.” Unease slithered through you as a bone-chilling grin crept over his face. “A pleasant evening for a stroll, is it not?”
If luck be a lady, than she was a royally vindictive bitch, you decided as you backed away.
There wasn’t anywhere to go, though.
All the businesses around you were closed for the night.
The closest police station was over a mile away.
Firehouse twice that.
Still, you had to try.
Lady Luck wasn’t going to win that easily, after all.
“Where do you think you are going, my dear?”
“Not where you’re goin’, fugly!”
The sharp report of a gun blasted by your ear. Your heart slammed against your ribcage and your breath wheezed out from between lips that felt like they were frozen together as a strange yellow ooze seeped outward from a small, black hole in the middle of Monsieur D'Arque’s forehead.
Shock, agony, and rage twisted his face into a gruesome mask. He took a step towards you, long, bony fingers outstretched, but you were pulled out of reach by a tall, shaggy-haired man you remembered arguing with another earlier that evening.
“You’re safe now,” he told you as Monsieur D'Arque exploded into a cloud of black dust. “He can’t hurt you.”
“What… what just happened?” you managed around the ball of ice lodged in your throat. “Who was he?”
“Doctor Daniel Luckhaven.”
“Luckhaven?” A frown creased your brow as you recalled seeing that name on a plaque at the local hospital. “He died in 1891.”
“He discovered a way to extend his life.”
“How?”
“By drinking the blood of people who have experienced a rush of bad luck.”
Not exactly the weirdest stuff you’ve heard living in this town.
You heard stranger shit whenever Milly Jenkins went off her meds or Lewis Carmichael tied one on.
Still, even you found yourself a bit weirded out by this.
“Shoulda taken that other chick up on her offer of a ride,” the man with the gun rasped as he joined you. “Wouldn’t have almost become Liquid Delight.”
“Dean,” the shaggy-haired one hissed.
“It’s the truth, Sammy.”
“Sam and Dean?” You looked first at the man sliding the gun he used into the waistband of his jeans before angling your head back to look at the one who pulled you to safety. “Are you related to John Winchester?”
“He’s our father.”
“That’s why you’re in town,” you said as the pieces all came together. “You’re hunters. Like him.”
“Yeah, we are.”
“Should’ve guessed.” At Sam’s inquisitive look, you added, “I always have a run of bad luck right after your dad comes through town.”
“He was here?” Hope added flecks of gold to Dean’s green eyes. “When?”
“Yesterday.”
Which was right about the time your streak of bad luck started.
Luck wasn’t a lady, after all.
It was a bad omen.
Named John Winchester.
#supernatural#dean winchester#sam winchester#dean x reader#Sam x reader#winchesters x reader#no romance#just friends#platonic#you is reader#supernatural fanfiction#spn fanfic#dean winchester fanfiction#sam winchester fanfiction#spn gifs#gifs#supernatural gifs#flashing gifs#scorp writes fan fiction
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Missing a mouthful of teeth and idk from WHO OR WHAT this is frustrating beyond belief.
#prob not demon this time as im not phantom limbs rn#the vampire or the dog king are both options but idk idk#the fictional demon isnt a contender i only had a couple of fangs up front then but the other three#the other three times i had oops all pointy bits#probably kinposting
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The Spy Who Loved Me
gif credits @byunvoyage
Pairing: Spy!Baekhyun x Assassin!Reader ft. Chen, Chanyeol
Description: It’s an obsessive cat and mouse chase
Themes: Dark comedy, angst, heavily inspired by season one of Killing Eve
Warnings: Violence, strong language
Word Count: ~2.8k
A/N: This one-shot comes during a very busy season for me so if you can make time for feedback, I’d be very grateful. Thanks :)
———————————————————————–
It’s the way light escapes their eyes.
Fear. Despair. Hope. Then…nothing.
They hope to be spared. I have a family…what about my children…please…why are you doing this to me…. The utterly foolish ones even offer you money. This imbecility makes the corners of your mouth curl upwards - especially when they’re out of breath from running or begging or whatever it is that gets their heart rate up. Eh. Factor in some cardio before dissolving into a permanent state of slumber, maybe? Poor things always mistake the twitch of your lips for impending clemency…what they don’t know is that it’s always been the breathy ones that peak your excitement.
There’s not a single hit you’ve regretted.
Mostly because you don’t bother with the futility of why. They give you a name and you jet off. To you, it’s really a fun job involving travel, costumes, languages, a hefty allowance, sticking pointy objects in the right places and theatrics. You’re not one to just do your job and slip away quietly. No arterial air embolisms, no unidentifiable fumes or poisons. No boring and discreet. Where’s the fun in that? Flamboyant is your middle name. Every assassination is a heroi-comical poem for you - killing an asthamatic nez with a fatal concoction of perfume or a feeble-hearted fetishist with clamps that turned out to be a wee bit too intense for him.
You’re good at this. No, infact, you’re the best there is, the best there was, the best there ever will be.
“The NIS has deployed a team of four to hunt you down because of the mess you left in Beijing. So you’ll be working with a team now. No more flying solo.” Your handler Chen says nonchalantly.
Shit.
Beijing. “Make it look like a suicide”, had been the directive. The assignment Kasia had been put under witness protection after you’d murdered her mafia boyfriend. She was in a hospital - injured and deranged from the shock of it all, watched over by armed men. Things obviously didn’t go as planned and the security detail bloodbath was, well, collateral damage.
You saunter towards Chen with an intentional swing in your hips, a pout on your lips. You sit a little too close to the astute man, almost purring with seduction, “NIS, you say. Give me a name."
“Byun Baekhyun.” His lips curl into a cat-like smile as he stealthily adds a foot long distance between the both of you.
“Never heard of him”, you say neutrally, gliding closer to his stoic form.
“He was a security officer before this. A nobody. In fact, he was fired right after the Kasia debacle in Beijing. She was his responsibility.” Letting out an exasperated sigh, he gets up on the pretext of fetching a glass of water.
“Why the sudden promotion, then?”
“A change of jobs. He’s heading a team…Operation Jinseong, they call themselves. Apparently, he’s the only one who believed that the murders have all been executed by a woman. If they can get to you, they can get to them. The organization. This conjecture has seemed to have impressed a higher up. After firing him, they swept his computer and found hoards of theories and all the intelligence he could gather about the faceless demon that’s actually…you. An insider thinks he’s fascinated. And a little cuckoo.” Chen’s laughter is throaty and taunting.
He takes a sip of water and places the glass carefully on the counter, eyeing you the entire time. Chen. It’s a nom de plume. He’s a ghost - a shadow of a shadow, if you will. You know nothing about Chen but you know better than to snoop around. He’s always been affable yet distant, but he has this maddening habit of scrutinizing people. The changes in the expression, the dilation of the pupils. The man doesn’t miss a beat. And he stares unapologetically. You wonder what he thinks when he looks at you. You wonder how he feels. Disgusted? Lustful? Terrified?
He wants to know everything that’s behind those vacant eyes. With him, you feel disrobed.
“You’re only as good as your last”, he says finally, in his threateningly soft voice, thrusting a thumb drive into your hand. But you don’t feel threatened. The truth is, you feel nothing at all.
He’s at the door when you exclaim, “You never have sex with me!” Feigning annoyance.
He laughs and states matter -of-factly, “I’m married”, before closing the door behind him.
Like that’s ever stopped a man before.
***
Byun Baekhyun.
You search the thumb drive and a fresh faced man with luminous eyes smiles at you from the screen. His arm is wrapped around a slender, honey-skinned woman with big hair and big teeth. They look like an advertisement for home buyers.
A wave of recognition floods your mind.
He was there.
He was there at the Beijing scene. The beautiful man who helped you with the coffee maker in the hospital. The very same coffee you doused barista Kasia with.
There’s an inexplicable swell in your chest.
.
.
.
You’re no team player.
The undertaking with your ex and her boyfriend didn’t go as planned. Chen should’ve known.
After a disagreement, you instigated her to off him, your shin getting injured in the scuffle. Then you ran her over with the jeep - once, twice. The third time was just to be sure. This commotion affected the escape of the NIS Agent you were after.
The mole that ratted out Baekhyun’s Operation Jinseong.
The murders of your “colleagues” you could manage to explain - you’d tailored them to look like accidents. However, the assignment’s escape was sure to reflect poorly on you.
You’re only as good as your last.
The Agent scurries across a field of dead grass towards the feeder road, putting considerable distance between him and an injured you, where someone sat waiting anxiously in the driver’s seat.
Oh, Baekhyun…
It’s the first time you look into each other’s eyes, the moment stretching between you. It is like standing on the ledge of a skyscraper. With the wind in your hair, the world at your feet but in this space exists trepidation. A fear of falling.
Your gun wielding arm suddenly feels too heavy and your legs threaten to give up on you. Your heart rate escalates as the hot embers of his gaze gloss over the stretch of your skin.
The mole slips into the backseat of Baekhyun’s compact Kia Morning as you continue to take aimless shots at his vitals - eyes still intertwined with Baekhyun’s.
What good was a mole to the NIS?, you wanted to ask. Especially one that looked like a sewer rat.
You were only doing them a favour.
Aiming the gun at Baekhyun, you fire, only to realize he isn’t fearful or panicky. On the contrary, there is a sense of purpose in his eyes as well as something you could only identify as a glimmer. A spark.
Even from a twenty foot distance you can tell Byun Baekhyun is in awe of you.
This…thing…this electricity surges through your veins and you sprint towards your jeep - as fast as your good leg could carry you.
Oops. You didn’t mean to run over her for the fourth time.
***
Reverse. Acceleration. A few well thought out turns and your jeep is hardly a hundred meters behind Baekhyun’s car. You continue to fire and he continues to dart, swerve, sidestep. A good driver.
Suddenly, his car comes to a screeching halt.
He steps out of his vehicle amidst shrill cries of protest from the mole in the backseat and you follow suit.
Weaponless, crouched, he inches towards the gun pointed at him.
“I mean no harm”, despite his scared posture, his voice is confrontational. “Leave the man alone. He has a little girl.”
Oh, Baekhyun…
You smile at him. He smiles back.
A genuine smile. Like the one your father used to give you when he saw you relishing ice-cream as…a little girl.
In a flash, you aim the nozzle at your temple and Baekhyun cries out a loud, pained, “NO!”
Laughing, you lower the gun and fire at his feet. He ducks.
You vanish.
.
.
.
It was exhilarating to use the alias ``Mrs. Byun ” for your next job especially since the man and his giant partner have been on your tail for three months now.
But, maybe, you shouldn’t’ve stolen Baekhyun’s luggage as soon as he landed in Tokyo to investigate the mysterious death of a Chinese colonel. He and his team knew perfectly well whodunnit. But one can’t bring faceless demons to book now, can they?
Who knows how this easily distracted giant of a man is supposed to protect Baekhyun if it should ever come to it. He couldn’t even watch his luggage for a measly five minutes.
***
You watch Baekhyun and the giant from your apartment overlooking the crime scene. He looks frazzled and the giant slightly apologetic. ‘You’ll have your bag back soon, baby’, you whisper, sucking on a bubblegum flavoured lollipop.
Thirty minutes roll by and the investigation seems to be heading nowhere. Bored out of your wits, you slump into your bed and toy with the contents of Baekhyun’s bag - shirts, slacks, underwear, toiletries.
Dull, tedious, and soul-destroyingly unimaginative.
Save for one green scarf.
In a sea of monotones, the scarf stands out. Demanding attention. Fluttering your eyes shut, you slowly bury your face in it - your senses entirely enveloped in his heady scent.
***
“Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, where did you get that scarf from?”
Day two in Tokyo. You’ve been following Baekhyun (and, by extension, Chanyeol). Studying him. It was like adopting Chen’s personality. Apart from the occasional loud laughter, his demeanour, you learn, is self-effacing, gracious, and polite. He’s a picky eater who only eats to live and not the other way round. He’s also very observant and intuitive. But not enough to know that he’s being watched.
Also, he’s thinking. Constantly. He’s thinking about you.
“Excuse me?”
Chanyeol asks again - large, deep brown eyes focused on your neck trying to stop you from getting onto the same train as Baekhyun.
Very subtle.
“It’s from my mother’s store. I could give you the address if you like”, smiling, you crane your neck to look into his disturbed eyes as you both pretend not to know each other amidst a swarm of dog-tired people on the platform at six in the evening.
You slip into the crowd but the oaf chooses to follow.
What does he think he’s doing following an assassin through a strange city! Unarmed.
Forty minutes elapse and he continues to chase you through the streets of Tokyo, keeping up with your brisk pace. With your easy charm, you breeze into the club called Camelot and wave Chanyeol goodbye as he’s stopped by the bouncer and sent to the back of the line. His eyes are dark with a murderous rage.
The club is loud, dark…stuffy - the air thick with over-the-counter happiness. Definitely not to your taste but you stay to give Chanyeol a head start. He’s pissed you off and he’ll pay for it later. Not today.
You really didn’t want to upset a tired Baekhyun. At least not until you feel a beefy hand weigh down your shoulder.
“I didn’t want to do this”, you rise on your tippy toes and whisper into his ear before sticking a short blade into the side of his stomach. He’s heaving as you stare into his round, childlike, startled eyes while supporting his stumbling weight and stabbing him repeatedly until he finally collapses.
You leave him to bleed out on the dance floor and on your way out, you grab the arm of a medium-built man, your blood-dipped, glistening lips stretched into a lascivious smile.
“Let’s put you in a costume first”, you say to the unassuming moron, excitably thinking of Baekhyun’s dull shirts.
.
.
.
Grief draws people closer, your grandmother used to say, every time someone died of sickness in that impoverished little village of yours.
Baekhyun’s grieving the oaf who was slowing him down. He’s looking for company. So..he’s snooping.
He’s in your apartment.
The “trusting old lady” - your next door neighbour, who actually works for the same organization as you handed him the key exactly as instructed. You’d been expecting him, this meeting was long overdue. But you wait in the cute little French cafe just around the corner - watching him scout out your apartment through your phone, while devouring a Charlotte Russe cake - dressed pretty in a flouncy pink dress.
He’s careful not to make a squeak. Walking on tippy toes, running his beautifully slender fingers along the drapes, the furniture, the walls as he goes. Your skin tingles all over. Oh, how you wish to be a piece of furniture in the moment. Only Baekhyun could make you want to be something muted and inanimate. Furniture, mattress, drapes.
He saunters slowly to your blackwood Georgian cupboard. The one you use for your wigs, costumes, weapons, and his own green scarf. He wears the scarf around his neck, ruffles the costumes but he’s gentle with the wigs. Stroking and caressing.
From the drawer he picks out a .38 and shoves it in his waistband. Right behind his hip bone.
Oh, Baekhyun…
Pretty boys and their dangerous toys.
He finds himself in the kitchen. The revolver seems to have straightened his spine and suffused his step with a very welcome spring. Mi casa es su casa.
In the fridge he finds exactly what he’s supposed to. No food. Only a dozen bottles of celebratory champagne of the best kind. What comes next from him is a scornful snicker which fills your mouth with a bitter taste. The Charlotte Russe doesn’t look very appetizing anymore. He draws a bottle out of the fridge, studies it and smashes it onto the floor. Then another, then another until all the bottles are reduced to shattered glass dripping in gold strewn across your kitchen floor.
Playtime is over, Baekhyun.
You make a run for your apartment.
***
He’s exhausted.
Breathless, air tousled, shirt crumpled, eyes droopy, beads of sweat lined across his forehead and upper lip - standing clueless, smack-dab in the middle of the mess he’s made - clothes torn off their hangers, furniture overturned. You can’t recognize your upscale Seoul apartment anymore. Careful around the glass, you make your way towards his still frame, withdraw the weapon from his light, jaded grasp.
You take his hand in yours and lead him to your bedroom - which is entirely ransacked just like the rest of your house. Save for the bed.
He lies down on his back and his first words are, “God, I’m tired.”
“Me too”, you say, as you lie facing him, “Are you wearing the cologne I gave you?”
You’d sent him a bottle of cologne along with the bag you had nicked in Tokyo, as a token of appreciation. It was handcrafted to smell like power.
He hums, turning to the side to face you, nestling into the depths of your irises.
“Are you going to kill me?” He asks, eyeing the revolver in your hand.
Your heart falls to pieces at the ache in his voice.
“No”, you say simply, tossing it to the side.
“Really?”
“I promise.”
Relief ripples across his soft, boyish features smoothing the lines of worry as it goes.
“You’re all I think about”, he says, studying your face. And you’re left wondering yet again, about his thoughts. His feelings.
“So you trash my apartment?” You sound as gentle as you can. But if you’re honest, you don’t even have to try that hard.
“I lost my job, my partner, my wife left me, and I even lost my sanity because of you.”
With his dulcet touch, he traces along the edge of your lips.
“Fair enough. I think about you too. I mean, I to you masturbate a lot.” You say as your thumb rubs his cheek lightly.
He lets out a loud, embarrassed giggle that makes him look a decade younger.
“Too much?” You ask, apprehensively.
“No, I just wasn’t expecting that.”
And with that you’re both inching closer to each other, like magnets.
Baekhyun’s soft gaze darkens and simultaneously you feel something sharp poking at your stomach.
“You can’t do it”, you wrap your hand around the blade, almost mocking him. He’s too nice for something this abominable.
“I can”, he whispers, his eyes still nestled in yours, as he plunges the blade deeper, tearing you apart.
He places a chaste, soft kiss on your forehead.
Fear. Despair. Hope.
“Sorry, baby.”
Continuation - My Lovable Curse
#exosnet#exowritersnet#bbh-net#baekhyun angst#baekhyun spy au#exo angst#exo spy au#exo smut#baekhyun smut#exo fluff#baekhyun fluff#exo fanfic#exo fanfiction#baekhyun#baekhyun fanfic#baekhyun fanfiction#baekhyun imagines#baekhyun oneshots#exo imagines#exo oneshots#baekhyun x reader#exo x reader#baekhyun x you#exo x you
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A collection of my favorite Phineas and Ferb quotes
I, for one, am starting to get bored and boredom is something up of which I will not put. (Rollercoaster)
Is my nose really that pointy? (Are You My Mummy?)
Follow-up single? Who do you think we are, some two-bit hacks who will keep writing new songs just because you pay us obscene amounts of cash?! Phineas and the Ferb-Tones are strictly a one-hit wonder! Good day to you, sir! (Flop Starz)
Um, that man isn't wearing any clothes. (Toy to the World)
You won't tell me? Is this because you don't speak or are you just being a jerk? (One Good Scare Ought To Do It!)
Of course, then I discovered girls and the rest is a blur. (The Ballad of Bad Beard)
Hey, Dad, can we help?
Well, I'm afraid not, unless you can preform miracles.
What's your budget? (Dude, We're Getting The Band Back Together)
Think of all the practical applications a caveman can have in the modern world.
...
Actually, you know, besides politics, I can't think of anything. (Boyfriend from 27,000 B.C.)
I can't hear you! My cheeks are covering my ears! (Out to launch)
I lost her to a boy bigger fingers... (Out to Launch)
It got up... and it danced away. (Out of Toon)
Hey, wait a minute. Everyone. That British kid is saying something really, really... boring (The Lake Nose Monster)
Your hot dog is no match for my bratwurst! (Backyard Aquarium)
Nothing says "mothers love" like a giant robotic platypus butt. (Perry Lay's an Egg)
I'm sorry, all questions must be phrased in the form of an answer. (Let's Take A Quiz)
So, how about that airline food? (Cheer Up, Candace)
It occurred to me while I was on fire. (Cheer Up, Candace)
Well, if you reverse engineer the human heart, you're bound to find love at its core.
And gross, smushy red stuff.
Yes, love and gross, smushy red stuff.
And ventricles!
Actually, I think ventricles is already included in gross, squishy red stuff. (What Do It Do?)
Well, next time you can do all the cooking, and I'll stand around coming up with evil plans that ultimately fail. (Nerdy Dancin')
Nice? Aw, now I got to go do something to balance out the universe. See you on the news. (Hip Hip Parade)
The problem with you is: you're completely delusional. (Wizard of Odd)
Yeah, see, 'cause, 'cause he hit him.
I'm not an idiot, Charles. (The Beak)
There was no rug, sir. (Phineas and Ferb-Busters!)
Give up? Give up?! The day may come when we'll give up on fruitless searches after a mere eleven minutes, but that day is not today! The day may come when our favorite reptile may be lost from our memories and his enduring love of mushrooms forgotten, but that day is not today! Today we search! We will search for him in the streets, we will search for him in the trenches, we will search for him in the alleys and the mini-malls and the cul-de-sacs of this fair land. We'll search for him in the multilevel car parks and municipal recreational facilities. And we few. We happy few. We small band of brothers — and girl from across the street. We shall not cease 'til he is found! (The Lizard Whisperer)
If the molecular splitter doesn't just disappear when this is over, we should really consider destroying it. (Split Personality)
I'm kicking my own butt! (Brain Drain)
Look! A sponge and a starfish! There's gotta be something we can make out of this! (Summer Belongs to You)
Maldito seas, Perry el ornitorrinco! (The Great Indoors)
If I had a nickel for every time I was doomed by a puppet, I'd had two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice, right? (Across the Second Dimension)
You know, my crimes against humanity had just completely slipped my mind. (Across the Second Dimension)
I've got a date with destiny, and it ain't going to end with a kiss! (The Belly of the Beast)
"Don't believe everything you read." Words to live by. (Magic Carpet Ride)
So what would you do with my hair?
Nothing. It's perfect the way it is.
Wow, you are good.
Girlfriend, please. (Bad Hair Day)
Now, Candace, your brothers have issued a gold-based currency which has seriously devalued the euro. What do you do? (Perry the Actorpus)
Oh! I am sorry, Phineas. I seem to have broken your fire. (Phineas and Ferb Family Christmas)
Space is cold and unforgiving, like my father. (Ferb TV)
Woah, hey, hold it! What's with the banjo?
Traveling music.
Where are they going? Alabama? (Excaliferb)
You know what I like about our friends? We say things like, "We're gonna douse you in ant pheromones." And they're just like, "Okay, whatever." They're so cool. (Gi-Ants)
He's gonna John Wilkes my Booth! (Let's Bounce)
Phineas, go!
Ice chalet! (Bully Bromance Breakup)
Tell me she was deported! (Buford Confidential)
Aw, look at the little guy. What's the fastest way I can transfer all my assets into his name. (Meapless in Seattle)
Why, yes. How about a romantic dinner for two? Wanna sip, Phineas?
Oh, no, thanks.
Oh, okay. I understand. You know, you want to keep yourself open to other drink options. I get it.
Actually, I didn't want to say anything in front of anybody, but, it's, I don't like zucchini.
Oh. (Doofapus)
Dr. D will be so proud! Assuming he survives the cataclysm. (Norm Unleashed)
Hey, guys, I landed up here. Should I come down?
No! Throw down that vine. ... NO! Just one end.
Okay, but I don't know what you're gonna do with half of a vine.
Is it me? It is him, right?
Buford, pull. ... On the vine.
Oops, sorry.
It's him. (Where's Perry? (Part 2))
It was at that point I decided to stop narrating. (What'd I Miss)
Ha-ha-ha! We're just having fun with you! That wasn't the real Balloony!
It wasn't?
No, of course not! The real Balloony popped three weeks ago! (This is Your Backstory)
Norm you monster! Can't you see I'm in pain?! (This is Your Backstory)
I was heading to a golden land of opportunity; a land with a pioneering spirit which welcomed misfits like me! But I ended up in America instead. (This is Your Backstory)
Yeah, we all know the song... But I'm not exactly sure how. (Fly on the Wall)
Ooh, I hope they do not have a male dancer popping out of it.
They asked, but they couldn't afford me. (Happy Birthday, Isabella)
Don't ever make Phineas angry. You wouldn't like it when he's angry. (Mission Marvel)
I want your father to disown you and adopt me! (Thanks, but No Thanks)
Yes, the universe is constantly expanding.
But what is it expanding into?
Oooooooh...
Okay, now my mind is blown. (Cheers for Fears)
We can formally begin courting. (Steampunx)
Behold! The I-Don't-Care-inator! (Live and Let Drive)
Yu-rah-noose, check.
Buford, that is not how it is pronounced.
It is on this channel. (The Inator Method)
Seriously? Someone moved the Earth and it wasn't you?
Not this time, no. (Phineas and Ferb Save Summer)
This must be a special episode. He's yelling at his sister again. (Phineas and Ferb Save Summer)
Look, I'm shakin' bacon! You like that? It's a call back to something I didn't even hear! (Night of the Living Pharmacist)
🎶It's just about the time spent together.
With you~ 🎶(Last Day of Summer)
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DIE HARD || [i. Prologue]
—Pairings: BTS x OC
—Genre: BTS Mafia Au, Slight Fluff, Angst (a lot of it), Heartbreak, Thriller
—Ratings: 18+ | MA Content | R
—Warnings: Blood, Death, Killing, Guns/Weapons and Violence.
—Summary: She belong to them. They belong to her. It’s simple as that. Period.
—Word Count: 2.8k
Navigation -> Masterlist || MASTERPOST <<FOREWORD || PART 1>>
Prologue - The Tragic Night
10 years ago...
“So, how do I look?”
A girl in her late teenage years twirled around in a long fancy dress as she beamed at the older women standing infront of her. The dress was a long ball gown in the shade of pale pink with flowers coating the blouse in elegant designs. The back was encrusted with shiny, twinkling diamonds, embedded into the dress by her own mother.
“You look gorgeous, Yoona.” The older women beamed, caressing the young girl’s hair in affection. “A true beauty in her most simplest form. That’s what you are.”
“Unnie...” The girl whined, pouting at her older sister’s words. “Please be serious. I want your true thoughts on this.”
“I’m serious, my baby.” The older sister said, coming closer to capture her little sister’s pouting face. “You are going to be turning 16 soon. You look gorgeous in anything that you wear.”
“But unnie... kookie said I look chubby.” Yoona whined as she glanced at her figure in the mirror. It’s true that the gown looks beautiful on her, but with her puffy body, she can’t help but think that maybe... just maybe, the long gown wasn’t the right choice for her.
“That’s just your baby fat which will wash off as you grow up, sweetheart.” Her older sister assured her. “And besides, when did you start taking that stupid bunny’s words to the heart?”
Yoona gulped. She wasn’t ready to tell her sister about the hurtful rumours that circulate around the school on daily basis. Rumours that are starting to affect her as she realised what the boys meant to her.
“It’s just...” The girl tried to say it but she couldn’t. Instead, she let out a defeated sigh.
“Yoona. My dear little Yoona...” The older women cooed, bringing the younger girl into her arms. “Don’t take anything to the heart, sweetheart. Life is weird. Things will happen. Words will be said. Hearts will be broken. No matter what happens, don’t ever look down on yourself, okay?”
Yoona pursed her lips and nodded, hugging her sister back. She loved the fact that her big sister always knew how to cheer her up.
“Okay, Unnie.”
“Good, lets go downstairs so we can reach the venue on time.”
Yoona smiled and nodded. Today is a very special day for her. She’s going to be the jewel of tonight’s party. She’s turning 16 today. A big step in her life. Her family has organised a grand lavish party just for her. She was excited but also at the same time, nervous.
As they descended down the giant staircase, a group of men stood waiting for them at the bottom. Both the sisters looked at each other in confusion.
“Chen? What’s going on?” Yoona asked as she saw her trusty personal bodyguard, waiting for her. The boy was only few years older than her. He has been her companion and her saviour since birth.
“Forgive me, ladies. But we are here to escort you both to the venue safely.”
“All of you?” Yoona spoke, glancing at the other three guards, staring at her with complete blank faces.
“Yes.”
The girl didn’t question any further. She’ll just have to pretend that this is one of those days where her father is being a bit too possessive over their safety. But as they reached the bottom stair, Yoona couldn’t help but feel a small pit of dread gather inside her. A very peculiar, bad feeling has started to bubble within her. It raised red flags in her head.
It was only her sister’s hand that kept her at bay.
As they headed towards the entrance of their mansion, a tall man with broad shoulders, stood waiting for them, right on their doorstep.
“Uncle Sung-woo...”
Both of the girls smiled at their only uncle who stood smiling back at them. He was dressed in one of the most expensive suits, especially tailored for him by the best designer in all of Seoul.
“Ahh... girls There you are.” The man said, flaunting around his shiny black hair as his hands clapped against each other in excitement. “You both ready?”
The two ladies nodded. They could see a line of expensive SUVs, parked behind him.
“Good, Good. Let’s get going.”
And with that, both of the ladies were piled into the waiting cars.
*********
“Nervous?” Her older sister whispered in her ear as their car rolled into the venue. It was a beautiful lake-side resort that her family booked for the weekend. The party was being held at the second floor, where a large ball room was built to accomodate the style of Lee’s legendary parties. Everyone was invited. Anyone that had connections with her family was invited.
Sometimes, it shocks Yoona at how big her family’s influence is. Being one of the top businessmen in the whole nation was quite an achievement. But something about this high status never sat well with her. It had never bothered her before, but as she starts to realise things, it was becoming hard for her to be ignorant these days.
“A little.”
Their uncle was sitting at the front of the car, so they had to make sure to keep their voices low.
“You’ll be fine.” The older women whispered, grasping yoona’s hand in a comforting manner. “Just be honest with them.”
The younger nodded before looking at her charm bracelet given to her by the boys. She’s going to be upfront with her feelings today... and hopefully, she’ll make it through in one piece.
**********
“Yoona!”
The girl looked up just in time to see a tall, handsome figure engulfing her in his arms. Her face flushed as the familiar strawberry smell filled her nose.
Taehyung.
“You’re suffocating me, Tae-Tae.” The girl cried as the boy was literally squashing her.
“Oh...” The boy instantly unwrapped himself off her and sheepishly smiled. “Oops, sorry.”
Yoona shook her head and glanced at the other five boys who have managed to cover her entire view of the Grand party hall. Sometimes, she hated how small she was compared to their towering figures.
“Hello boys.”
They all beamed at her. The six boys infront of her plays a major role in her life. They were her best friends and only friends in this cruel world. Everyone else just uses her for her money. Her family was one of the richest families in the nation. So, finding good, true, die hard friends was a bit problematic for her, especially when she’s envied for being the rich girl.
“So, how do I look?” She asked, twirling around once again in her long, pale pink ball gown, making sure to flaunt her braided hair that her older sister took the liberty of braiding it into an elegant piece of artwork. It was filled with little pink flowers, and solid shimmery glitter.
It was the cute, teasing bunny who started complimenting her first... or should she say ‘tormenting her’.
“Aigoo... my chubby little princess looks so cute and fluffy in her poofy dress.” He cooed with a baby voice, pinching her cheeks in the process. She glared at the boy who just shrugged and continued poking and pinching her.
Then came his partner in crime who had suffocated her earlier in his developing arms.
“Awww... Yoona baby looks so cute.” He gushed, cupping her face and squashing it lightly. She managed to push him away before another happy boy jumped onto her with a huge sunshine smile.
“Angel! You look so pretty!” He beamed, making the teenager flush. “Twirl around for me please.”
And she did, letting her dress do the magic... atleast she hoped it would.
“Pink suits you a lot, Yoona.” Another voice chimed in. Yoona’s eyes shifted to the brown-headed male who was also smiling at her. He lightly caressed the loose hair on her side and licked his lips unconsciously.
“Thank you, chim chim.”
Yoona then looked at one of the tallest members of the group who stood watching her with calculating eyes. He looked as handsome as ever.
“You’ve grown.” He commented, coming closer and poking her body in odd places. “Reduced a bit in size too.” That’s when his eyes narrowed at her. “Are you skipping your meals?”
“No?” She tried to lie but failed miserably.
“Yoona..” he warned, now grabbing her arms and pinning her with his pointy gaze.
“I’m fine, Jinnie Oppa.” She assured the boy. He was the oldest among them so she needs to be calm and respectful towards him. “I have just been doing some... extra exercises.”
He didn’t seem convinced but none-the-less nodded and moved back.
In an instant, another figure hugged her.
“You always look beautiful Yoona. Please ignore hyung. He’s just being a mumma bear again.” The sweet, raspy voice of her closest companion said in her ears. She smiled at the blonde leader of the group. His dimples were popping out and she couldn’t help but poke them.
Her eyes then searched for the seventh member of their group. Her favourite boy among them.
“Where’s Yoongi Oppa?” She asked the leader.
“He’s just running an errand.” His voice turned a bit grim. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon.”
She frowned but the none the less nodded and continued mingling.
***********
As her celebration party progressed forward, Yoona’s peculiar, bad feeling returned with full force. Red flags raised up in her head. Something felt wrong to her. Something bad was happening, and her instincts were warning her of an upcoming danger. Call it her luck but her instincts has always been right. If there’s something wrong then, there is something wrong. That’s just how it is. That’s how her father has taught her.
And soon, that feeling came true. She was just standing in the grand balcony of the party hall, looking at the large lake below her in wonder. Her thoughts were running wild. Her fingers were rubbing over the silver ring that sat on her left hand, showcasing a dark red ruby glancing back at her. It was beautiful in every aspect. The perfect gift she could ever get by him.
It was the sudden extra weight that broke her wishful thoughts. A flash of mint-green hair and a huge body stumbling into her arms.
The first thing she noticed was the blood and a deep wound on his right shoulder. Then, the bleeding head injury on his forehead.
“Oppa!” She screamed, grabbing numerous eyes on her. Worry build up inside her as she caught the man before he could loose his balance. He seemed sweaty and tired. His breathing was shaky and ragged as her fingers glided over his bleeding forehead. His knuckles were also bruised and his lips mouthed her name over and over again. “O-Oppa...” she said shakily, holding onto the man in fear. “w-what happened t-to you?”
Before he could reply to her, a loud boom filled the entire hall. The ceiling shook as the ground below them moved. That’s when screams started. Loud, blood curling screams as everything around her erupted in fire.
“Yoona...” Someone tucked down on her arms. She looked down in her arms to see Yoongi looking at her with guilt and regret written all over his face. His breathing was thick due to his punctured wound on his shoulder. “R-run... r-run Yoona!”
Before she could react, someone pulled her away from him. The grip was tightened around her hair, making her scream in pain. She looked up to see a man, dressed in all black clothing, pulling onto her, dragging her across the floor. She screamed and wiggled in his grip as she saw another man in black, hovering over her lover’s wounded body with a gun.
“No, YOONGI!” She yelled but it was already too late. The gun fired with a loud bang and the bullet was embedded straight into Yoongi’s chest. Everything seemed distant to her as she fought harder to get closer to him. Her eyes teared as she saw her lover’s eyes drift over to her in pure pain and longing before closing.
A heart-wrenching scream left her lungs as she realized what this meant.
Suddenly, another shot was fired, and the man behind her dropped dead. She looked up just in time to see Jungkook holding a gun in his hand. His nicely tucked in tuxedo was now in creases as his eyes showed complete fear. Not for himself, but for her.
“Yoona, get out of here! NOW!” He screamed just as another loud boom echoed. The ground below them cracked. “Yoona, MOVE!”
In an instant, Yoona felt adrenaline rush hit her as she picked herself up and ran to lover’s dead form. She was hoping that he was still alive. He wasn’t allowed to die this easily. He has always promised her to stay next to her till the end, so there’s no way in hell she’s going to leave him. But before she could reach him, the ground around him broke off, plunging his body into the depths of the lake below as the rest of the balcony followed soon.
“YOONGI!” She screamed in tears. She could hear her other boys screaming for their lost brother too.
Her figure was frozen as she leaned onto the sides of the broken balcony. Her fingers digging into the chipped wall beside her. Her Oppa has just died. One of her dearest friend and one of the person she loved just died right infront of her.
“Yoona!” A familiar figure covered her view. It was her older sister. “Yoona, What are you doing? Let’s go!”
The older women pulled her back towards the hall, oblivious to the danger pointed in her direction. Just as they made it few steps in, the unmistakable sound of yet another gun shot was heard. As if on cue, Yoona felt her older sister’s grip loosened. When she turned around to see what happened, a horrid sight greeted her. A red bullet hole was embedded right in between her sister’s forehead.
“No! UNNIE!” The girl screamed for the tenth time as her older sister’s form dropped dead on the ground. The expressions on the dead women’s face was horrifying and mentally scarring to Yoona’s mind. She tried to shake her sister awake, begging and crying for her to wake up. But, nothing moved.
“No, no, no! Unnie! Wake up Unnie! You can’t leave me!” Yoona begged, tears staining her cheeks as another round of gunshots were heard just few spaces away from her. No matter how much Yoona shook the dead corpse, her sister wouldn’t wake up.
“Unni...” she cried, a tight lump forming in her chest.
She looked up at the destructive party hall. There were dead bodies everywhere. Some of them shot to death and some of them crushed underneath the caving ceiling due to the explosions. What is going on with her day? Why is her family being targeted?
She sat there, clutching onto her sister’s dead corpse, as her eyes managed to locate her parents, already dead and crushed under the destroyed ceiling. Her heart filled up with pain as she wailed loudly at her dead family and at her dead love.
Suddenly, a creak was heard and the ceiling above her, caved in on her. With no will power to move, she just sat there and let it crush her. That was the last thing she remembered before blacking out.
**********
When she did open her eyes again, she found herself in her Uncle Sung woo’s arms as the building infront of her exploded into a giant mushroom of fire and smoke.
Her uncle hugged her as her brain tried to piece together the time gap. Her dress was now torn from all sides, and there was a large gash on her right arm that she doesn’t remember getting.
“I’m sorry, Yoona. They’re all dead. They are all dead!” He cried, clutching her as his face filled up with pain and tears.
The teenager just stood there in his arms like a dead corpse. The lake-side house erupting into flames infront of her made her body go limp. Her family was gone. Her whole family was gone. Just like that.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.
“T-the boys... w-what about the b-boys, uncle? Where are they?” She asked him in desperation.
Please let them be alive. Please be alive.
But they weren’t. Her uncle’s grim expression and a shake of his head confirmed it.
Everyone that she ever loved or knew was dead. Gone and poofed away into that firey smoke.
And for the second time that night, her vision blacked out.
#bangtanhq#ultkpop#bts#bts mafia#bts mafia imagine#bts mafia reaction#bts mafia au#bangtanboys#bangtan#bts x reader#bts x oc#bts rm#bts namjoon#bts suga#bts yoongi#bts hoesok#bts jhope#bts jin#bts jimin#bts taehyung#bts jungkook#bts fanfic#kpop#kpop fanfic#bts kpop
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Take Back the Cake, Burn the Shoes, and Boil the Rice (4/11)
Within two months there have been two murders of Gotham newlyweds moments after the ceremony. The only connecting factor was both brides wore the same designer’s work. Needing to establish who exactly is behind the crimes, Bruce enlists Tim and Stephanie to have the biggest wedding Gotham high society has seen in decades, putting a target on their heads not just for the killer, but Gotham society too. It goes about as well as you’d expect.
Ao3 Link Here!
Tim had no idea there was such a market for wedding planners. He imagined most people planned it themselves. Stephanie had made the very valid point that neither of them had time. Apparently, because she maybe still hated herself a little, she chose possibly the most ridiculous looking woman who came at an equally ridiculous price tag.
“Why’d you choose her?” Tim asked, as the two paced back and forth in one of the drawing rooms of Wayne Manor.
Stephanie was picking a hanging nail. “She had stupid glasses.” She muttered. “Her website screamed ostentatious. That’s what we want right?”
“Well yeah but –”
Alfred opened the door for Mrs van Dijk, and Tim couldn’t help but mutter a curse at the sight of her. Stephanie caught Alfred’s face as he shut the door, to which she noted he seemed quite relieved to be rid of the woman.
Bottle eyed didn’t do it justice. Her glasses seemed an inch thick, and they took up half her face. Humongous brown pupils peered through at Tim as Stephanie very quickly made her way over to him, holding onto his shirt and showing off the ring. Mrs van Dijk’s clothes were seemingly made from rags, and various bits draped across the floor. Her nose was tiny, upturned and pointy. Her teeth were too big for her mouth. She grinned maniacally at the sight of the young couple. She herself somehow looked sixty and thirty at the same time.
Stephanie had picked a winner surely.
“Oh, how happy I am to meet you! I thought for sure I was being pranked when you rang me!” She looked and wandered around the room, utterly fascinated. “And at Wayne Manor no less. I am the luckiest person in the world… Do you mind if I just put my bags here?” The four assorted totes and satchels and rucksacks seemed a bit excessive to Tim, but he nodded, not quite sure what to say. She slapped them down with a delighted squeal.
Nails on a chalkboard. Tim smiled, baring his teeth as they clenched together uncomfortably. Stephanie stepped in, being on the ball for once.
“Thank you for agreeing to help us! And on such short notice too.”
“It’s going to be a rush to get everything done in time.” Tim confirmed.
They all sat down, but then Mrs van Dijk decided she was too far away and stood up. She settled in between Tim and Stephanie, both of whom flinched at having a stranger be so close. They flinched again when she took a hand each and tugged them onto her lap, a little pile of happy hands. Happy sweaty hands. Tim shivered up his spine, and Stephanie’s left leg spasmed at the uncomfortableness of it all.
“I have had a think the past two days.” Van Dijk said earnestly. “You said, Stephanie, you wanted the grandest wedding Wayne money could provide.”
“Yup.”
“I am going to work a little unconventionally. A little traditionally. But you two are the most important clients of my career. I will give you the world.”
“…Thanks.” Tim responded lamely.
“In my thoughts, I see the Cathedral.”
Neither Tim nor Steph were religious.
“I see gold and white.”
Neither were colours they wore nor sought out.
“Carnations for flowers.”
Carnations were for funerals. Tim and Stephanie knew this very well.
“I see the reception here, in the gardens.”
The weather was never good enough to guarantee any event outside.
“And your gown…”
There, Stephanie could not cave in. “I want Rebecca Andrews.”
“Oop! Pardon?” By now word had spread that she was a cursed designer.
“I have my heart set on her you see… Ever since I was younger.”
“…But I… I brought books!” She threw their hands off her lap, Tim rubbing his freed palm against his trousers as the woman fumbled through the tote, tugging out three lever arch files.
“Oh wow… you really prepped for this.”
“I told you! I will give you the world.” And then she sat down, tossing one folder to Tim, and one to Stephanie. Slapping her own open, Mrs van Rijk flipped through pages until she found examples to show Stephanie.
“See? Oh, Mr Wayne wouldn’t you die to see her in this?”
Tim struggled not to swear. “Oh boy.” He said instead.
That seemed too many ruffles for one human body.
Stephanie blinked, and agreed. “No no. I’m sorry, but this is the one area I must put my foot down.”
“…Even though…”
Stephanie smiled reassuringly, and confirmed, “Even though.”
Mrs van Rijk stared at the huge taffeta construction and sighed sadly. “One day I will get a bride in one of these… Nevermind. I will arrange an appointment with Ms Andrews. Funny lady that one.” As she put the folders back, Tim shot Stephanie a look which amounted to kettle meet pot.
Otherwise, they went with whatever this lady suggested. The only thing both Tim and Steph genuinely liked the idea of was a lemon cake rather than a fruit cake. They told themselves that because it maybe wasn’t even going to reach the altar, what they wanted didn’t really matter. Details were details. What mattered was ensuring they were a target.
Stephanie proceeded to go on a coffee date with Cassandra, who gave the evils in her characteristic manner to anyone creeping to close, and a trip to the arcade with Damian, who grumbled and pretended to shoot a photographer with one of the guns for a zombie shooting game, until Stephanie called him over with the food she had bought him. Tim uploaded an old photograph of them when they were fifteen to his social media pages. Bruce mysteriously went to visit Crystal’s hospital when she was on shift, ensuring that she was seen chatting the Mr Wayne. The picture that went in the news was not the most flattering of Mrs Brown – her expression was nothing short of mystified and in awe that Gotham’s favourite child was talking to her – but it served the same goal as the other outings.
The family was doing everything they could to prove that Stephanie was not just someone out of the blue who had stepped into the role of fiancée for Tim. She was a Gotham girl through and through, her mother worked an admirable job, she was known by the family and spent time with them independent of Tim…Older photos began to be circulated. Old school photos when they both attended Gotham Heights were circulated, as was the fact that she was a student in her final year of Gotham College who volunteered at the clinic on Park Row, just around the corner from Tim’s social housing redevelopment project.
Don’t think of this girl as an upstart, they were practically begging, she’d been a part of Tim and Cassandra and Damian and Bruce’s lives long before anyone cared. Tim, who actually braved reading comments and replies, noted that, for the most part…well they weren’t flat out insulting her. Or him.
For the most part.
That counted for a lot.
Though some of them…
Thankfully Bruce and Dick over many years had cultivated a stock image of a slightly batshit (hah) bonkers family that only seemed to grow with the years in equally odd members. Off kilter, sure, but overall a good family. Thank goodness for Gotham stereotypes.
Next step in becoming a target – an engagement photo shoot.
Tim was not even aware these were a thing, but found himself standing in a full suit a mere three days later. Images to be posted amongst societies circles and to be sent with rsvp invitations. This had been it’s own conflict. None of their superhero friends has been invited, but indeed to everyone, this was for real. Tim had ignored the Titans for days at this point, unable to explain what was going on. There was no pithy explanation.
He had been given a black tux, a dark red suit, a navy shirt and chinos, and a pot of hair gel to style himself. Stephanie, meanwhile, was upstairs, with a veritable army of beauticians, hairdressers and too many dresses to count.
It was raining, because of course it was. But the photography studio had insisted on going forward in the manor gardens.
“We can make it look real Austen and shit.”
Tim really didn’t understand the man’s reference. Said man was holding a camera with a very large lens that Tim suspected wasn’t necessary for this kind of shoot. He had sunglasses on, despite the weather, so Tim knew he was very cool. The four assistants who had been with Stephanie trotted down the stairs, moving quickly to set up lighting. All four looked a little dissapointed, but whatever reason Tim didn't understand.
"Okay?" He asked.
One got in Tim’s face and began fixing his hair. He instinctively flinched away from a stranger in his personal space, but quickly smiled apologetically and allowed her to resume. His gut churned from enduring the uncomfortable closeness.
"It's fine. We just... she's been hurt quite bad hasn't she?"
Tim flinched completely away. It seemed the look in his eyes was enough to make the lady look to the floor, and find something else to work on. Tim's protectiveness was flaring, and he knew it was making others uncomfortable. But he also doubted it was as uncomfortable as Stephanie was having strangers examine her body like that.
“Am I okay to come down now?” Stephanie’s voice drifted in from the top of the staircase, providing a welcome distraction.
The man (Tim couldn’t for the life of him remember the name) immediately became effusive.
“Of course, princess! Let’s see you. You’re in the red dress, right?”
“…Yeah.”
She poked her head around the corner and stared at Tim. She sighed sharply at how handsome he looked. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “Can I hold onto you walking down? It’s a lot of skirt…”
Tim didn’t care that she was blatantly lying. He hopped up to the top step, holding out his hand for her to take. When she did take, still half hidden behind the wall, Tim felt her trembling. He looked at her inquisitively.
“My scars…” Was all she could say. She was bent over, blonde hair curled to look like Sleeping Beauty’s. The assistants who had done her hair had made the decision to have it all down in order to hide her upper back, shoulders, collar and arms. She was wearing flowers in her hair, and her makeup made her look otherworldly. Tim realised it was all to draw attention upwards, away from her torso.
Tim squeezed her fingers. Stephanie as a rule did not show skin... not since Black Mask.
“You wore that purple dress, remember? The one I got you? That showed more skin.” He tried to remind her, so she could logic her way up to being confident in the beautiful dresses.
She only shook her head, and he could see her eyes growing frenetic with an increasing panic.
“No-one was paying attention, not like this. People are going to see me.”
He stepped closer, creating a bubble around them that made Steph’s breathing quieten, and her back straightened. Saying she was beautiful wasn’t going to work. Some of her scars, little that he had seen, were not beautiful. He wouldn’t lie to himself and say they were. Stephanie was beautiful; the injuries, the torn skin, the white shiny scars, the mangled puckered wounds… there was no beauty in the experiences that created them. No amount of sweet talking would convince her nor the world of it. But that didn’t mean she was lesser for it. Not even close. He stared straight into her eyes, praying he looked reassuring.
“It’s okay.”
She nodded, and gently, encouragingly, he tugged her forward into the viewpoint of the photography team. It was a strapless crimson gown, with a sweetheart neckline and a large wide skirt that made her waist tiny. The photographer hissed. She looked lovely, but some scars shined in the artificial light. It was going to make tidying up the images awkward.
“Oh.” He stated. Stephanie immediately hid behind Tim, feeling humiliated. “Do we want to hide these in post? Or are we drawing...”
Tim glared in an intensely threatening manner, and the man coughed, correcting himself.
“Doesn’t matter. You both look like royalty. Every time I do one of these shoots… but this must be one of the best.”
His team twittered like little birds in agreement. Stephanie struggled not to roll her eyes at the weak save.
Shots were taken of them walking down the stairs, though Stephanie did manage to trip of the final step, crumpling in a heap on the floor. The man had ensured she was okay, then demanded she remain there. Tim was forced to sit behind her, two or three steps up.
“Fix her hair and dress.” The man commanded. Immediately her position was altered, and her hair was pulled to cover certain patches of skin. Her breathing wobbled.
She wasn’t good enough.
A little off put by having so many people fuss over her, Stephanie reached upwards. Tim gave her his hand, and then quickly, unthinkingly, pressed a kiss to the back of her head. He watched as goosebumps trailed up her back, and he cursed himself a little for even attempting to comfort her.
“Oh!” Shouted the man. “Hold that. Her ring looks good.”
There were four outfits and locations in total – the strapless red gown for Tim’s black tux in the main staircase being the first. For the Thomas Wayne’s library Stephanie perched herself on a leather loveseat armrest, sitting awkwardly and slightly off to the side in her insecurity. Tim had his bowtie removed and three buttons undone, to which he promptly redid one. Stephanie was changed into an off the shoulder green dress with sleeves that split open to expose her arms and hit the floor. The gown had such a deep neckline that Tim’s eyes were drawn to a white scar that went up her sternum. She caught him looking and hissed like an angry cat, unsure if he was staring at her chest or the wound. The golden gown, the one that looked like rays of sun, for the shots in the conservatory was beautiful, but again, Tim could see she was growing increasingly uncomfortable with both the attention and exposure. Repeatedly for couple shots she would start to migrate behind Tim, half hidden away until called out and forced forward. Tim found he couldn’t say anything in front of the photography crew to comfort her. He kept some part of himself connected to her, hoping the touch would ground her. Obviously this was not an option for the solo shots.
She seemed much happier with the final dress. A shorter purple dress with feathers all along the hem. It had a high neck and long sleeves. Tim couldn’t help it, he laughed as she brushed through the bird feathers. She shivered in her bare legs though and begged to put on a pair of tights. The man narrowed his eyes, or at least Tim thought he did behind those glasses, but agreed.
“Some posed shots.” He said, staring down into his viewfinder. “Then go frolic outside.”
“Frolic?” Stephanie raised on eyebrow, and Tim mirrored it.
“Outside?”
Tim took off his blazer as he and Stephanie questioned the photographer in between snaps being taken. Steph grabbed a hold of Tim’s shoulder to balance as she zipped up a boot. The rain was coming down as hard as ever.
“Yes. We need some natural shots.”
His assistant opened the double window doors, cold air blasting its way in. Rainwater dripped inside, and Tim shuddered at the fit Alfred would have. The water crept dangerously close to one of the rugs, and even Stephanie made a panicked oomph noise, and she rushed out front into the pouring rain, hoping that the quicker this round was done the sooner these people would pack up and leave and she could return to flat shoes. Her heels were starting to ache to the point of distraction.
Tim rushed out after her, resisting the urge to yell at the frigid water which immediately soaked him to the bone. Stephanie looked back at him, her dress clinging in all the right ways, hair a sodden blanket. She was laughing from the shock of how cold it was.
“I can’t believe you agreed to this?” He yelled over the sound of the rain hitting the paving stones. Stephanie just laughed and held out her arms for him to step into. Her makeup was starting to run, but rather than making her look like a drowned rat, she looked lively and bright. Her face flushed red from the cold, and Tim willingly went straight into her hold.
She brushed his wet hair out of his eyes, grinning at the face she saw underneath. Still so pale, with such dark bruises under his eyes. Still not sleeping well. But he was happy, at least for the moment. She didn’t want her moodiness ruin that for him.
Stephanie couldn’t get that moment of the kiss to her hair out of her mind, nor could Tim stop thinking about the declaration of love and kiss on the lips she had given him last week. They were stumbling in the dark, seeking physical comfort in each other, and both knew how dangerous it was. Simultaneously, and without mentioning it to the other, they resolved to corner the other. Soon.
Until then, when the photographer called for them to kiss, it was Stephanie who cradled Tim’s face and pulled him close. It was the kind of kiss that they made when they were adolescents: enthusiastic, clumsy, but infatuated. Stephanie tried to convince herself that it was just another kiss for the job, like the ones one their dates and engagement dinners, but as always the sharp stab of enjoyment that came with Tim’s smiling kisses made her shiver and doubt. She squished his cheeks and laughed when they broke apart, and when she tried to leave Tim’s hold and playfully pulled her back around her waist, tossing out further into the rain so he could run inside before her.
She collapsed in, ankles a little wobbly, grimacing at the water they had allowed into the room. Tim shut the windows and huffed.
“Perfect.”
Remembering they had been watched, the redness in Stephanie’s skin vanished, and she resumed staring at her feet, shuffling backwards behind Tim.
Hair dripping wet, and conscious that the pair might catch a cold, Tim tried to be genial when he asked if they were done. The man bared his teeth and he flipped through the images. He didn’t look totally satisfied.
“I don’t know… Can we go for some more artsy stuff? You guys got a ballroom, right? You two are such a good pair…I just want some more to play around with.”
Stephanie stumbled in her shoes, growing more tired by the moment. Tim began to shiver. One of the assistants not so subtly nudged the man, letting him now his time was up.
Bruce in one his blessed moments of good timing, had at some point begun watching through the open door to the drawing room, seemed to realise that Tim and Steph had also had enough.
“Thank you, Mr Hare, but I’m going to have to ask you to wrap up. Let my kids dry up.”
Being referred to one of Bruce’s own made Stephanie stare in open shock, whilst Tim looked gratefully at him, giving a small smile.
“Oh.” Said Mr Hare – Tim tried to not feel guilty at not knowing his name for the entire shoot – and finally he took the hint. “No worries. This was a good session! Listen, I’ll send them when their done to van Rijk. She’s a beast, will probably want them tomorrow if I know her.”
Bruce smiled politely and indicated for Alfred to begin showing them out.
Tim’s shivering had grown worse, and Stephanie noticing this, rushed to one of the sofas which had a cream throw resting over the back to cradle Tim within.
“Rub your chest if it’s gets unbearable.” She uttered, “That’s where all the important bits are.”
Tim smiled, teeth chattering. “Minus a spleen.”
“Huh?” She looked at him, confused.
“I… Oh. I never told you?”
She tilted her head, gears turning ever so slowly in her head. “That you don’t have a spleen? Tim! You’ll get sicker easier and worse!”
She managed to kick off her shoes and moved in closer, tugging the throw around them both. With the assistants out of the room, Tim grew somewhat warmer knowing she was being genuinely caring in this moment.
“How long ago?” She asked, shifting so she could keep them both somewhat warm.
“Um…” Tim looked at Bruce helping Alfred escort the team of the estate. “When I first went looking for him. Got stabbed.”
Her breath warmed his neck, and her fingers drifted down to where his scar was. She cooed when he twitched as if her touch hurt him, but to Tim it felt like a bolt of electricity had passed straight down his spine. He told himself it was because of the static from the rain and humidity.
Bruce watched the group begin to pack up, both ensuring they had left with all their equipment but also listening to their conversation, trying to not to smile.
“I think…” He interrupted, and the pair jolted at the reminder that someone else was in sight of them. “You both should shower up. Then a quick word with you both.”
Stephanie was the first to break away.
“Can I use Cass’ room?”
“We have a spare room if you want it. We have loads of spare rooms.” Tim hinted.
Steph didn’t take the hint. “Cass’ is fine.”
Bruce, however, did hear the hint, and in a rare moment of paternal ingenuity, decided to throw a little bomb into the mix.
“When is Stephanie moving into your apartment, Tim?”
Stephanie, who had no idea such an idea was on offer, gulped. Tim, also appeared a little thrown.
“I… I…”
“I’ve never even been to your apartment.”
“Well, there’s your chance.” Bruce said. “Now hurry up, before Alfred sees the state of the floors.”
Bruce’s edict was law, and reluctantly Crystal agreed for Stephanie to move out.
When it came to moving in with Tim, Stephanie was surprised how easy it was. She really didn’t own that much stuff to begin with, and Tim had a lot of spare space.
Tim’s apartment, based in Park Row no less, was large, and took up two floors. He seemed awful proud of it. Steph didn’t miss the piano sat in the corner but chose not to comment.
“One of your projects?”
Tim huffed, thinking she was diminishing his efforts with Park Row. He was lifting her suitcases up the stairs. “Well, the redevelopment is as good as I make it… And I live here… so you know, I stand by it being good.”
“Hmm.” She set one of four boxes on the couch. Hard and square, it didn’t lend itself to resting and relaxing. Tim had probably chosen it for the aesthetics more than anything, and was likely cursing himself that he had offered to sleep on it whilst Stephanie took his own bed. Glaring at the obnoxious chandelier which hung down from the open space of the ceiling of the first floor down to just above their heads on the first, she hummed to herself.
“These aren’t…I…”
Tim waited patiently at the top of the steps for her to finish.
“How did you make sure you haven't just gentrified the area?”
Tim put down her suitcases, practically skipping down the steps to get to her level, a little put off with her question. “You worried I kicked poor people out of Crime Alley?”
Stephanie blushed, and defended herself. “Not intentionally.”
“No. Not intentionally. Not unintentionally either.” He scoffed, but before he could turn way, Stephanie halted him.
“How then?”
Tim couldn’t hear the sincerity in her tone, instead he heard patronising accusations. His temper flared unexpectedly. She still could rile him up like no other. “You care?”
As could he to her, apparently. Her blush turned to a flush of red anger, and her defensiveness became aggressive.
“What kind of question is that? Do I care about your job? The unprivileged? Gotham in general?” She waved her hands. “Nevermind. Not if you’re gonna take everything like an attack.”
With a whirl that smacked Tim in the face with her long ponytail, he flinched back and watched her drag another box in. It was too heavy for one person, and she was going to hurt her back in her stubbornness.
“Steph, let me help.”
“I’m fine.”
“Steph –”
“You don’t always need to be so –”
“You know you can accept help from –”
The pair trailed off, both bent awkwardly over a box, glaring at each other. Stephanie was the first to break, groaning in a tantrum and stomping up the steps. She looked down over the railing to Tim looking up at her.
“You honestly don’t have a spare room?”
“No. The other room is an office and a bathroom. It’s just for a few more weeks… I made space in my closet for you.”
“Thanks. Real generous there, Timbo.”
Her sarcasm was biting, and Tim felt the childish urge to stick his tongue out at her. She vanished from sight though, rolling her clothes through to his bedroom. Kicking the box at his feet, his eyes widened in shock at how heavy was, and he stumbled away.
“What she got in here… boulders?”
Dragging it into the hallway, Tim popped outside to see Crystal driving away, the two remaining boxes left at the foot of the steps to the door. They were lighter than the box of bricks, and once they were inside Tim shut the front door. Stephanie was still upstairs, so was likely unpacking her clothes.
Opening the heavy box in some grim determination to be vindicated in its contents, he was instead met with a box filled with stuffed soft toys.
She still held onto them? At the top of was a somewhat familiar teddy bear. She had held onto it and smacked him with it playfully on occasion. When he had visited her to tell her he was having to leave Gotham… when she was pregnant, when she didn’t know his name or anything about his parents or who was behind that mask… all she had known was this boy had – for some unknown reason – chosen to stay with her, to spend time with her. She had taken a lot of convincing over two years it was because Tim genuinely loved her, and it wasn’t out of some Bat driven duty to be kind to those weaker than you. By the time she believed it herself, she had seen Tim kissing someone (someone who she now knew he didn’t want to be kissed by) and everything had gone down the crapper. Seeing that stuffed bear affected him more than he expected.
Resting under it was the duck he had won her the other week. Its silly face peering out from under the other toys made him laugh despite his tense mood.
He picked up both toys and walked up the stairs. In his room, Steph was piling her shoes into a corner of the closet. Tim set the duck down on a table that rested at the foot of his bed.
“You kept this?” Tim asked, waving the teddy.
Stephanie gasped, clumsily pulling herself off the floor, and reached out to take it. Tim snatched it back.
“Give it.” She cried.
“Did you seriously bring everything? I could have helped you pack. Even the toys.”
She seemed increasingly upset, when Tim was only trying to tease. “I’m serious Tim, give it.”
He didn’t give way, so in her frustration, she shoved him. Hard. No damage was done, but the look of horror on her face at becoming physical like that with him made Tim’s stomach drop more than anything.
Her face turned white and she begged, “Sorry. I’m sorry.”
Tim really didn’t know what to do with her constant mood swings, so awkwardly returned her bear to her. She nearly ripped it out of his hands and cradled it reverently.
“It’s fine. I shouldn’t have made fun of you. I just thought it was sweet, that you held onto this stuff.”
In her hands, Stephanie looked down at the bear. When she spoke, it was near a whisper.
“My dad bought it for me.”
“He did?”
“Mmm. When he was… when he was trying to be better.” Her look grew angry then. “I don’t know why I keep it.”
Without thinking, she plopped on her bed, staring at nothing. Tim realised he needed to intervene, and quick. He sat next to her and took one of her hands in both of his.
“We need to talk, I think.”
Dropping the bear, her other hand joined the three. Tim tried not to shiver at the warmth. “Me too.”
“Let’s get the rest of your stuff in, yeah? Is it all for upstairs?”
“I have some photo albums. And a couple of things for the kitchen. Figured you didn’t cook much.”
“Not really.”
She pulled their pile of hands into her lap, her look growing softer by the moment.
“Then I’ll cook tonight? First meal in a new place. Be a good wifey and all that.”
Tim tried not to imagine Stephanie with rollers in her hair, red lips and a frilly apron holding an apple pie. He failed. “Can’t comment on the contents of my fridge.”
“That’s okay.” She stood up, wandering down to the yellow duck. She pinched its orange beak. “Tim?”
“Mm?”
“I am genuinely interested in your work. I’m not being accusatory about that.”
“Thank you, Steph.”
She smiled, but it was sad.
With one box filled with stuffed toys, it truly didn’t take long for Tim to help her move the rest of her stuff into his room. Photos proceeded to take up free surface space, and Tim’s bathroom quickly became filled with so many items for the bath that his mind drifted to the idea of Stephanie. In his tub. In his apartment. He burned red for the rest of the afternoon, his brain not allowing him to let go of her soaking in bubbles.
There was one that smelled like cola candy that he liked, but it was at that point he decided he was being creepy, and wandered back downstairs, to find his fiancée’s head rammed in the fridge.
“Alright there?”
“Garlic…red onion… half a pepper…” Her muffled voice was amused. “Butter… cheese… milk.” She shut the door, hands full of everything except the milk. “Pretty standard student fridge contents huh?”
“I’m not a student.”
“Nah, but you have twenty-year-old brain anyway. We’re all messes.” She looked at the ingredients in her arms. “I can do something with this. You good a stirring?”
“I have movement in my wrists.”
She smiled. “Then grab me a knife, cutting board, pot and frying pan?” When he did, she jerked her head over to the sink. “Fill the pot three quarters up and throw a chunk of salt in. When it boils – two mugs of pasta and stir.”
It was a simple quick dish, but she gave Tim enough instructions to make him feel like he somewhat contributed to the food that she made. Sitting with her at the counter, watching her pile cheese higher and higher into her bowl, made him feel content in a manner he didn’t feel often in his home.
When they were finished, Tim stared into his empty bowl gathering the courage to say,
“We should talk.”
Stephanie beat him to it. Tim picked up the dishes, hand shaking a little.
“I’ll wash up.”
She reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist gently. If he wanted, he could pull away without being violent, but he held still. Steph looked at him, trying to make him understand.
“It can wait a little bit.”
She was right, but Tim couldn’t shake his nerves. He set the bowls down, then sat back on the stool.
Stephanie’s hand shifted, and then suddenly they were interlocking fingers.
“Tim…” She began, and she was unable to look at him as much as he for her. “How much of this is real for you?”
Tim had told Dick he had wanted her to start the conversation, for her to lead the way, but now when it was happening, Tim moved from nervous to frightened.
“What do you mean?”
The look Steph gave Tim from the corner of her eye was indescribable, but the closest Tim got to giving it a name was pity.
“Do you want to be with me?”
“Do you?”
Deflecting like a wimp. Avoiding conflict. Tim tried to convince himself it was because Stephanie had to be the one to tell him. The moment she was decisive, so would he.
Instead she sighed like she didn’t know what to say. They were still holding hands. Tim began to breathe shallowly.
“Please, Steph. It’s fine if you don’t.”
There was his admission. She knew, she’d always known. But somehow, she had found the talent of laying her cards close to her chest, and he hated it.
“It’s not that.”
Not a denial. Not really an admission either.
“What is it?”
“It’s everyone else. Like, I’ve been getting all these messages all the time from people I haven’t spoken to in ages but then Kara keeps messaging me asking what’s going on. Why I didn’t tell her? Why are her and Conner not invited? But I can’t… I can’t lie to our loved ones about you.”
“Because you…don’t love me. And you don’t want to lie to the people we love that you do.”
He felt hollowed out. He felt like he was hurting her. But she had agreed to this. She didn’t have to. He had given her a way out. So what? She was being a martyr?
“No…No Tim.”
And suddenly Tim could breathe again.
“But don’t you get it? Even if I wanted… we are lying to everyone. How can anything good come from a lie? Especially for us. Where has us lying with each other ever done us any good?”
Oh. She thought they were repeating old bad patterns.
“I’m not lying to you.” He said, trying to reassure her. Not once since this whole thing had begun.
“And that’s all that matters?”
“It should. We’re the ones in this…relationship…so that’s all that counts.”
She sighed patiently, like she was explaining something to a child. “Tim, we don’t live in a bubble.”
Tim ignored it, and shamelessly began to beg. His patience had run out. It felt like he was pulling wisdom teeth, that’s how closed off she was being.
“Stephanie. Steph, please. You can’t say it’s a lie when I’ve done nothing but be honest with you. You have to tell me the truth.”
“About what?”
“You said you loved me at dinner.”
“I did.”
“Do you?”
“Of course, I do.”
Tim did not feel any lighter with the admission, nor did Steph look happy to say it.
“When this is over, do you want to be with me? For real? Like I do for you?”
Finally, finally, they looked each other in the eye.
“I don’t know.” Her voice was wet, quiet, and strained, like she was on the urge of crying. She didn’t even sound sure of her uncertainty. Maybe Tim was completely delusional, but he sensed that for all her talks of wanting the truth, she didn’t know what to do with it when it was staring her right in the face.
She was still frightened, and Tim knew it was from every piece of negative and positive attention being flung there way. Like Tim, Stephanie just wanted to be left alone. Unlike Tim, she couldn’t cope with the attention. And he didn’t know how to help her.
She then got up from the table, picking up their bowls to do the washing up. She had gotten what she wanted from the conversation. Tim was being earnest, like he always was. Tim still loved her, like he always had. Tim wanted a real relationship with her, like he had always wanted.
And she had only given him mixed signals in return. Self-loathing bubbled in her gut, which only served to fuel her seemingly growing self-esteem issues. Her anger spiked.
And she’d tried so hard to get over her adolescent insecurities too…
Patrol was waiting, after which Stephanie would spend the night with Cass at the manor, and Tim would return to his apartment, staring at the empty space in his large bed.
Neither slept that night.
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What do YOU know about love?
Alright, here’s the second Song-fic! I’ve learned that some of these are going to be mini series things within the overall world. I’m thinking Steve’s will have two more parts and this one will definitely be a three parter. I already have songs for Tony, Loki, and Bucky around the corner so keep a look out for those! And the sequels to this and Steve’s. :)
Summary: Various Avenger x Reader one-shots with songs from musicals. In this one — Sam is in utter disbelief at the hope you have in your blind date, but in the end is it really his place to say otherwise? Sam X Reader (eventually), OC X Reader (<- that part ain’t gonna last long, just be patient!) (Song is “What do you know about love” from the Frozen Soundtrack.)
Warnings: Bit of fluff and teasing from our beloved Sammy boy, lotta arguing because you, the reader, are stubborn as shit, and there’s cussing. Sam really does love being right and proving you wrong.
Word Count: 4275 words
Please don’t post my work anywhere without my permission. :)
Never would he ever listen to Barton about working with a new partner. New partners required adjusting, patience, and Bucky had taught him that those particular traits were something he personally lacked in. That was okay. Eventually their rivalry developed a level of trust and respect that he could work with. Not every one was Steve Rogers.
But then Clint went and requested that he partner with someone else for a mission. Her. She made working with Bucky feel like a ride in the park. He’d gladly lose a thousand steering wheels to the Winter Soldier if it meant never having to go on another mission with this agent. She was stubborn, rarely listened to his instructions, hotheaded, so focused that she sometimes focused on the wrong thing — And oh yeah.
She was a fucking badass.
That detail just made it more infuriating because she had earned her arrogance. Back in the day, she would reprogram Tony’s suits for the hell of it and even helped with Rhodey’s design after the accident. She’d been on missions with Clint and Natasha. She’d been one of those to survive the snap and during that time she had spent time keeping Clint alive while he was blinded by his rage. Since Thanos was defeated, she’d spent most of her time on vacation in Wakanda, saying she’d earned it.
Until Clint called her in. She’d always answer Clint. They had some weird bond he couldn’t understand. Maybe it was some brother/sister thing? Because he really didn’t like the idea of it being more.
Not that he was thinking about you in relationships or liking anyone or anything.
“Are you even listening, Wilson?”
He looked up, finally focusing on Y/N who had been rambling on about the mission. Oh yeah, that’s what had gotten him on that whole rant in his head. She was telling him about details of the mission that he already knew. Why did she have to treat him like an idiot? Why did she always insist on calling him by his last name? Why was he the only one she called by his last name?
“I know the mission, Y/N. Had it memorized long before Clint asked you to help me out.”
You snorted, smirking as you tucked your gun into the strap on your thigh. “Well, sorry, but staring off into space with googley eyes doesn’t exactly scream confidence in regards to a mission.”
“I did not have,” he grimaced. “Googley eyes.”
“Sure you didn’t.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes, the corner of your lips tugged into that knowing smile that he really wanted to wipe off. What was it with the people he kept meeting and their arrogance? Why couldn’t he be working with Bucky? “Look, you don’t have to like working with me. Bucky will be back from Wakanda before you know it.”
“I never thought I’d see the day I missed working with that pain in the ass.”
You laughed and, though he hated to admit it, he liked that he got that reaction out of you. When you relaxed like that, your eyes sparkled. You seemed at ease and those lines on your face, holding years of stress, actually vanished. “No one ever expects to warm up to people like Clint and Bucky. We just kinda do.”
He chuckled, adjusting the straps to his wings. “Ain’t that right?”
You watched as the hangar to the jet opened, parachute securely strapped to your back. You tightened your grip on the plane as your hair whipped around your face. He stepped just behind you, the building, their target, looking extremely small from their spot in the air. “Now, come on,” you told him, stepping forward. “I got a hot date tonight.”
He tensed as you ran off the plane, practically doing a swan dive just to show off while he gaped at your form. You had a what?
—
When they finally breached the building, slipping inside undetected, the questions started. He tried telling himself he was looking out for you. Clint would want that and, speaking of, did the arrow-shooting Avenger even know about your date? Was a background check done? What if the guy was HYDRA? What if they were some villain taking advantage and trying to gain access to records that SHIELD hadn’t lost during Natasha’s public release? What if —
What if the guy wasn’t good enough for you?
“Are you seriously going to keep badgering me with these questions?” The clear annoyance in your voice was enough to make him smirk. He liked that he got under your skin. It meant he had some sort of effect on you. Albeit, a little less positive than he would like.
Make that a couple thousand steering wheels lost to the Winter Soldier.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he had to ask all these questions. You were attractive, he admitted that. Your H/C made your E/C stand out all the more, fathomless with emotions and secrets he wouldn’t mind spending a few decades figuring out. Your skillset and determination to finish a mission had earned his respect. It wasn’t just that you were attractive. You were interesting.
“Come on, humor me,” he said as you took quick strides to the computer. He glanced back at the door, playing lookout while you stole and wiped information from their target’s computers. It was a personal request from Fury.
“He’s not a stranger. My friend just wanted to set me up on a blind date. He promised the guy was hot and who was I to turn down a meal and a decent conversation?”
“You, an agent, are going on a blind date?” He smirked. That was rich. “So what’s his last name?”
You rolled your eyes, fingers lying along the keys before you plugged in your flash-drive. “None of your business.” You were struggling not to take the bait. After all, you two hadn’t known each other outside a few rocky missions and Thanos.
His smirk turned into a grin as he leaned against the wall. “That’s not a last name.”
Huffing, you spun around and placed a hand on your hip. That fire in your eyes was back. “You have opinions on my life and my relations, but let me tell you what —“
“Okay.” He shrugged. “Enlighten me.” You faltered, biting your tongue. How could you tell the Sam Wilson, the Falcon, an Avenger and ex-partner of Captain America that you believed in fairytales? Mockingly, he asked, “Love is the one thing that has zero complications?”
Your frustration immediately molded itself into a glare. “And I can trust my gut.”
Sam outright laughed, holding up his hands. “Okay, you frighten me.”
You took a slow breath, trying to visibly relax as you turned your attention back to the computer. “Some people know their hearts the minute true love starts.”
“Some people read a lot of books,” he mocked, pushing himself off the wall. You seemed dead set on having faith that this date would turn out better than okay.
“I like books.” Running a hand through your hair, you added, “Some people simply know when true love says hello.” Wasn’t that what happened with Clint and his girl? Wasn’t that at least a possibility for you? Just some random bit of happiness?
Sam walked towards you, amused because he never would have expected you to like fairytales. He never would have thought you hoped for that. Not with your line of work. “Some folks are taken in by curly locks and princely looks,” he reminded, tugging on a strand of your hair.
You swatted his hand away, straightening and turning to face him. You wanted to make a dig, tell him something that would actually put him in his place. “He does have princely looks! We agree on that one.”
He snorted, twirling your hair around his finger as he asked, “Didn’t you say it was a blind date?”
Oops. You clenched your fist, not wanting to back down from his arrogance. “So I did a bit of digging. Doesn’t matter.”
“By the way,” he asked as you turned back to the computer. He leaned forward, his breath brushing the back of your neck and ear as he asked, “What color eyes does he have?”
You glanced up, gaze shifting just above the computer and to the wall of windows revealing the snowy mountains just outside. You jerked your elbow back, colliding with a couple ribs. He grunted, finally taking a step back as you smirked. One word. “Dreamy.”
“All I’m saying is when you go to climb a mountain, you don’t just jump to the top.” His voice was winded, weak as he tried to dull the ache in his gut. You had a pointy elbow.
“If it’s true love you can.”
Great. His partner wasn’t just hopeful. You were delusional. “There’s scalin’ and scramblin’ and too many steps for countin’. And the work doesn’t stop.” He was right. You both knew it. Eventually the honeymoon phase ended and everything in a relationship required work to last. You weren’t in denial about that detail, but with everything else in your life requiring so much work, it was nice to at least hope that a relationship might not be so chaotic.
Plus, you really just wanted to prove him wrong. “Maybe for you. Aren’t you the guy whose partners were and are the Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes? You have your own chaos and work to focus on. Stay out of mine.”
“Love’s not an easy climb, Y/N. You have to take your time.” Was that concern you heard? From Wilson of all people?
“We get a whole life.” You unplugged the flash-drive, pocketing it before getting to work on completely wiping the system. “That’s the plan.”
“That’s not a plan!” He laughed, partially from disbelief and partially because he hoped you couldn’t be completely serious. You really couldn’t be, right? “Love’s not a thing you get. It’s work and tears and sweat.”
“So says a sweaty, smelly, Avenger…man.”
“Nice insult.” He smirked before asking, “What do you know about love?”
“What do you know about love,” you snapped right back. He wasn’t just under your skin. He was burying himself, making a new home in your nerves. “Have you even kissed a girl?” He opened his mouth to answer and you smirked, looking at him as you added, “I mean a human girl.”
“Ouch.”
“Done.” The computer glitched, flashing once before becoming a blank screen of nothing. Success. “What do you know about anything?”
“Anything?” Voices down the hall made you both look behind you. Someone was coming. Your lookout had gotten a little too distracted.
“Come on.” He grabbed your arm, leading you to another door. Opening it, a gust of wind and flurry of snow collided with you both. Instantly your nose turned red and you sniffled. You hated the cold. “Anyone with half a brain would have worn some winter gear.”
You glanced back, the sound of incoming footsteps making you tense. Pushing him out the door, you followed and slammed the door shut. In front of you was a long bridge of sorts, thin railing caging you in that did next to nothing to protect from the steep drop on either side. Perhaps a quarter of a mile to your left was a similar set up, the two sides connecting with towers and bridges that seemed to create a medieval sort of square. Just inside? Soldiers training. From this height? There was no way they could see you. Not with the snow. “Anyone with half a life would have one friend who’s not a super.”
“I do!” His voice was indignant, carried by the wind as you pushed him towards the opposite side. A tall tower that gave them the opportunity to scale down and get to safety. That was their destination. That was their escape. Looking over your shoulder, he pulled out his gun and aimed it behind as you aimed it across the way. Both of you had each others backs as you crept along. “Any fool who jumps headlong is gonna bang their head,” he told you, smirking at the idea of one of those idiots trying to attack them.
But there was always one idiot.
From across the way, it seemed you had been spotted. The person had to have been enhanced. Both of you were in camouflage that would have kept you hidden from the naked eye. A siren flooded your ears, causing you to wince as you spotted them. You took your shot, your own abilities making it possible to see the snitch.
One bullet.
You pulled the trigger, your silencer muting the weapon before hearing the familiar sound of blunt force against metal. You barely had time to register that your aim was perfect. The Enhanced fell. Looking at the door you two had escaped from, you knew they were trying to get through. The problem was, their alarms had sent a trigger to bolt the door shut. It was supposed to keep Sam and you within the confines of the room.
But even the enemy’s plans could backfire.
“Any fool who doesn’t jump right now is gonna probably end up dead,” you warned, looking over the edge. Sam’s wings would be enough. At least to get to safety.
“Are you serious? You’re asking me to fly in this weather?” he asked, reading your mind.
“Not asking. Telling.” You grabbed his arm, flipping him over the rail and away from those who saw you as a target.
“Agent!” His voice was angry, indignant. Fine, lecture you later. You knew what you were doing. You leaned back against the railing, shooting the door twice. You heard metal slide, reinforcing the door because the computers thought you were attempting to escape from the inside. Sometimes tech simply couldn’t substitute for the real thing, the real eye. A person wouldn’t make that mistake.
“Time to go,” you murmur, leaning back and flipping over the icy metal. It was only a brief moment of cold air rushing against your skin before you felt a pair of hands wrap around you, catching you and pulling you into a warm chest.
Sam.
For once you were grateful for the soldier, knowing fully well that if it had been Bucky, your whole body would be freezing because of his arm. Natasha? You’d have to use a grappling hook. Same with Clint. Tony’s idea would be to have you contained in a metal suit of armor. No, Sam Wilson was, for once, a much better option than any of the other Avengers.
Well, maybe not for once.
“You okay there?” he asked, voice muffled against the wind. Or was it because your ear was pinned against his chest and his voice was more of a rumble than a muffle? He flew up and out, gaining distance.
Icy needles seemed to poke at your skin from the rush of wind and you found yourself burying your face in his chest. Not seeking his warmth, but rather protection from the elements. “I’ve been better.”
He chuckled, but you felt it more so than actually hearing it. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
“Told you to listen to me.” You looked up at him, cocky smirk in place. Oh, how he wished he could wipe that smirk off your face. “I know danger when I see it. Just like I know love when I see — Whoa!”
Sam grunted as something tore through his right wing. He jerked forward, arms slipping from around you as you fell from his grip. “Y/N!” His voice was lost in the wind as you fell, faster and faster as the wind flew around you, ramming into and knocking the wind out of you. There was no way you could avoid frostbite in conditions like this. Looking down, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited to collide with the icy rocks beneath you.
But it never came.
Instead Sam dove, flying underneath and catching you bridal style. The wind was knocked out of both of you as the force of the collision knocked you two into the snow. Sam broke your fall. Groaning, he shifted underneath you, your stomach stretched across his and his wings buried in the fluffy abomination that was the cause of your chill. Yup, snow sucked. “That’s not quite how I thought we’d end up,” you murmured, arrogance gone as you rolled off of him.
He chuckled, running a hand over his face and tearing his goggles off. “You’ve got to think things through in life.” He blinked wearily and it was then you saw how the snow had caused a sort of burn around the goggles. It must have been from the reflection coming from the sun. Everything, but the portion of his eyes that had been protected was a few shades darker. “And love.”
You laughed, moving to sit up. That was fair. You deserved that. “Touche.” You turned to face him, helping dig his wings out of the snow before you were actually able to pull him up. “Think you can fly?”
Glancing at the wings, the look on his face showed he wasn’t entirely sure. Whether you two should risk it or call for backup, he didn’t know. If they took out one wing, it was safe to say that you were stranded. After all, he couldn’t carry the both of you on a barely functioning jet pack. But you didn’t want him to feel guilty. He did his best and it was your reckless idea that had gotten his suit damaged. And he went out of his way to…
You shook your head, standing up. He followed suit and you looked around. He had managed to fly you out a couple miles before they clipped his wings. The building, similar to something like a castle, loomed through the mountains and it wouldn’t be too long before they sent scouts out looking for you. “Come on. We need to find shelter.”
“In this weather?”
“I don’t think we have a choice.”
“What about your date?”
You smiled. “I’ll reschedule.”
Walking through the snow wasn’t easy. You two had spent years in New York City, but the snow there wasn’t exactly thigh high and in the middle of a mountain. It was different, a terrain that neither of you had been entirely accustomed to. If it weren’t for Tony’s updating his jet pack, you were pretty sure it would have frozen in the temperature. Even beyond the grave that ridiculous man managed to make a difference. He was the reason you and Sam weren’t prisoners. Yet.
“Hey, we’ll get out of here,” he told you, as if hearing your thoughts.
“I know. Just a matter of actually getting help here in time.”
He followed a couple steps behind, knowing better than to argue with the concerns roaming around in your head. It was something you were positive Clint had warned him about. Sam was too much of an infuriating chatterbox to just let you deal. Your concerns were what led to solutions. You thought of possible outcomes, the good and the bad, and eventually it led to a plan that had little margin for error. All you had to do was think, allow yourself to worry and be concerned, and the plan would lay itself out for you.
After a couple hours of roaming the mountainside, you finally found a cave. Some place to rest and hopefully send out a signal for the agent flying your ride to come find you. Sam seemed to have the same idea because he ran ahead, clicking the straps of his jetpack as the two of you stepped into the damp dwelling. It was dark, a stark contrast to the overwhelming white behind you two, but neither of you complained. It allowed your eyes to rest, readjust and simple take a much needed break. Snow was too blinding, too overwhelming. Slipping the heavy contraption off his back, he set it against the wall while you shook the snow out of your hair and off your arms. Some of it had taken the time to ice over and the same went for Sam. Time had to be taken to warm both of you up or you wouldn’t last the night.
Kicking the excess snow off your shoes and knocking them against the rocky wall, you let out a small huff. You needed food, water, and a fire. This was supposed to be an in and out mission. Not something that required such necessities. Looking at the opening of the cavern, your haven of the night, you wondered how the both of you could warm up without a fire. You didn’t need the smoke.
“I’d like to point out that we’ve come a good long way here,” he told you, cutting through the wind and your thoughts. He was right. You two barely knew each other and yet here you had infiltrated the enemy with ease, not fully aware of each other’s weaknesses and strengths, survived the possibility of death, and had managed to find somewhere to at least rest for the time being.
You chuckled, telling him, “And you’re…wow, you’re really strong. It surprised me that you caught me both times.”
Feigning surprise, he clutched his chest. “And see? You’re nice.” When you rolled your eyes, he smiled. Same old Wilson. No, you caught yourself, corrected yourself, same old Sam. “That jump was really brave,” he added, surprising you. He was actually complimenting your suicidal dive?
Joking, you told him, “Your catch was quite a save.”
“Oh, I know.” Again, he was as cocky as you. Silence fell as you two stood back to back, trying to figure out your next step. He shook the snow off his boots and shoulders, wanting to keep talking. It wasn’t an argument and it wasn’t a mission. It was something else and it felt easy. “You’ve got some guts.”
You looked surprised. Another compliment? Did the snow get to his head? Did he have a concussion or something? “Thanks. You’ve got some…” What could she tell him? Lamely, she finally muttered, “Brains.”
He laughed, nodding because he understood it was weird for you. It was just as weird for him. No one liked learning about their partner on the go. “Come on, we’re soaked. Get out of the jacket before you freeze to death.” You didn’t really get to argue because he was already following his own instructions. As he did, he took long, slow strides to the back of the cave. The farther from the wind, the warmer it got. It was never actually anything other than cold, but it was better than the chilling wind that kissed the entrance of the cave over and over again.
So, you decided he might have a good idea this time around. Taking off the jacket, you unzipped one of the many pockets it had and pulled out a small blanket. Now that it wasn’t in a confined space, the nanotech within the fabric allowed the creation to expand. It wasn’t thick, but it was something dry and usable. He was already sitting at the very back, leaning against the wall. You crouched next to him and he instinctively raised a hand, wrapping it around your shoulders as you laid the material over four shivering legs. Nothing about this screamed sexual or romantic, but rather a need to rely on each other’s body warmth. You curled into his side, resting your head on his chest, just above his heartbeat while he absentmindedly traced your arm. Goosebumps followed in his wake, but you weren’t cold. It was actually relaxing instead.
“With miles and miles to go,” he murmured, resting his chin on the top of your head. You could hear it in his voice, he was tired. He was trying to find the words before sleep took over. “I guess it’s nice to know —“
You seemed to read his mind, voicing with him, “That I can trust you.”
He chuckled, liking that you understood him so well. “Though the question still remains.” Oh, here it comes. Another insult cooked up in that wild imagination of his. “What do you know about love?” You laughed, shaking your head as he shifted so that his cheek was resting on your head. It was more comfortable for both of you. Like your elbow, his chin was rather bony. “Just be careful on that date.”
You snorted, crossing your legs over his as your eyes slowly closed. “Have a little faith, hm?” Voice soft, barely above a murmur, “At least we know one thing.”
He nudged you with the arm that seemed to provide a blanket for your shoulders. “What’s that?” Whether he was actually able to listen or not, you didn’t know. He sounded more asleep than awake, but interest still peaked his voice.
“This trip was interesting.”
Silence. No chuckle, no nudge, and you found yourself worried. That is, until you heard the snore that rumbled through his chest and out his nose. Biting your lip to stifle a laugh, you shook your head. It was definitely interesting indeed. Leaning back, you allowed your aching limbs to relax against him. Both of you needed to sleep and the confines of the cave proved safe enough. When you woke again, then you’d focus on help, but for know? Just one thought drifted through your mind as sleep tugged at your subconscious.
What do you really know about love?
#sam wilson#samwilson#avengers#marvel#imagine#fluff#sam x y/n#sam x you#romance#whatdoyouknow#what do you know#frozen#mission#missiongonewrong#sam wilson x y/n#sam wilson x reader#avengers x y/n#song lyrics#songfic
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GH2 Halloween - 2014
This was one of the longest Twitter events, and this is the one that came with the full set of new headers and icons for the characters! They’re all saved as one zip file here if you’d like to have them. Plus, seeing the costumes everyone’s wearing in the event will help it make a bit more sense. :Db
Yuki: Trick or Treat!
Kuya: Yuki, you're a little early!
Yuki: You're one to talk, Kuya-san, you're already in your costume. That pumpkin hat suits you.
Kuya: Yeah! But you're cute in that pointy hat. It's perfect with the cape!
Yuki: Well, this is like a dream day where I can chant a spell and get candy. I'm fired up.
Takato: Asahina, we're sponsoring this year's party, so there is not just candy. If you don't pace yourself, you'll be sorry.
Kuya: And since it's Halloween, we've asked everyone to come in costume.
Yuki: Understood. After all, since it's a party, everyone has to have fun. Oh, I already distributed the costumes to everyone.
Takato: Good job, both of you. Well, I hope everyone participates.
Yuki: It'll be fine. Anyway, it's Halloween! Now that we've set up for tomorrow, let's go to bed. Good night!
Yuki: Well then, I wonder if everyone will come in costume. Oh, hello, Chiba-san!
Chiba: Yeah. It's early.
Yuki: Oh, you're in costume!
Chiba: ... You brought the costume, so. Well... how is it?
Yuki: I, I think it suits you! It's cool! ...By the way, Chiba-san. Did you meet Joker-san this morning?
Chiba: Yeah. I passed him in the hall before. Joker-sama praised me by saying it really suited me.
Yuki: R, really...? I knew it.... Um, Chiba-san. I think it's better if you don't look in a mirror today.
Chiba: Mirror? I don't see one here.
Yuki: Then, it's fine! Yeah! T, then, Chiba-san, let's go eat together.
Chiba: Sorry. I already ate. I'm going to practice now.
Yuki: In that outfit!?
Chiba: Yeah. Bye.
Yuki: Okay, see you after class! ... Besides, that ghost on his head, it has to be a trick Joker-san played on him... I hope Chiba-san doesn't notice.
Joker: Hey, Eiji. Make something like this. (recipe for jelly eyeballs)
Sonoda: No. You're going to tease Hayato again. Last year, when you gave him the cake with fingers sticking out of it, I felt bad for Hayato.
Joker: Ah, that worked really well. And when you cut into it, lots of red jam flowed out.
Sonoda: If you do the same thing to Yuki-kun, he may never come near Durak again.
Joker: Really. Mmm, then, how shall I scare him? *sing-song*
Yuki: Yagami, trick or treat!
Yagami: *loud strum on guitar*!!!!
Yuki: Uwah! Wh, what was that explosive sound!? Your guitar!?
Yagami: Yeah, Asahina. Are you coming to our live Halloween concert too?
Yuki: I thought you were pretty enthusiastic with your makeup. So it's a live concert. It's been a long time since I've heard you play the guitar, I'd like to go!
Yagami: Then, here, eat this.
Yuki: Beef jerky! Thank you!
Yuki: Arata-san, you're in costume! Cat ears! *pet pet*
Arata: Oh, yeah.
Yuki: *pet pet pet pet*
Arata: ... That's enough, stop with the petting.
Yuki: Hey, hey, Arata-san, trying saying meow.
Arata: Idiot, I'm not going to say that.
Yuki: Then, Arata-san, I'll cast a spell on you. Halloween Halloween Magical Power! There, I cast a spell!
Arata: Huh, oh..., i, if you don't give me candy, I'll play a trick on you, meow.
Arata: *gasp*! Just what did I....
Yuki: Hehe, well done! Here's a fortune cookie. Say ah.
Arata: I got taken in by Yuki again.... *munch*
Yuki: Trick or Treat! Tomooo, give me candy.
Tomo: I'm not going to be intimidated by your candy-lust.
Yuki: Ehehe, but I wanted one of your candies.
Tomo: ... Geez, it can't be helped. Then, I'll give you a special one today. Here.
Yuki: Mmgh. Idiot, don't suddenly shove it in my mouth!
Yuki: ... Mm, this is... uwah, gross!
Tomo: Hehehe, they're 100% salty licorice. They're bad from beginning to end. Now you can get a taste of how I always feel.
Yuki: ... That's mean, that's mean, Tomo. You're a devil.
Tomo: This outfit's not a devil, it's more like Death.
Yuki: Come to think of it, I'm surprised you're in costume since you always find everything too annoying.
Tomo: Oh, this. I'm just wearing it because with the hood on, I can sleep in class without anyone knowing.
Yuki: That's just like you. But I'm glad you're participating, Tomo. Be sure to come to the other parties too.
Tomo: Right, right, I've got it.
Yuki: Well then, next is Joker-san's place. I wonder if Sonoda-san is making delicous candy! *sing-song*
Yuki: Hello. Trick or...!!!!!!!!!!!! E, excuse me!!!!!
Yuki: *pant pant* Durak's room is incredible.... I unconsciously closed the door and ran, but I won't be able to get candy like that!!
Yuki: Umm, but, I'm courageous enough to go in there one more time. Do your best, Yuki, for the sake of candy!
Yuki: H, hello.
Joker: Hey, Yuki-kun.
Sonoda: Oh, you're back. Welcome back.
Yuki: Um, just what is this incredible room supposed to be?
Joker: Since I'm dressed as a pirate, I set it up to look like a pirate ship being swallowed in the belly of an alien.
Yuki: A, ah....
Sonoda: Look, Kiyo. Yuki-kun is backing away. I told you not to do it.
Joker: You're one to talk, Eiji. By the end, you got into it. Oh, and, Yuki-kun, the alien's organs are all edible. *sing-song*
Sonoda: Since I made the ingredients, however unappetizing it looks, I guarantee it tastes good.
Yuki: It may be delicious, but, ummm, this is... a bit... well... I kind of want to pass....
Joker: Huh, you're not going to eat? Then, since you don't need candy, does this mean I can play a trick on you?
Sonoda: Oh, that's not fair if it's just you, Kiyo. Of course, it's ok if I'm part of that trick too, right?
Joker: Naturally. Let's tease this cute magician. *sing-song*
Yuki: Oh, huh? Joker-san? Sonoda-san?
Sonoda: It's been a while since I've put my skills to use. How shall I deal with him?
Yuki: W, wait a minute. Just what are you going to do to me..., aah~~~~~~~...
Yuki: They made me eat alien guts until I was full.... It was delicious, it was really delicious!!! But I feel like I lost something important....
Yuki: Well then, I have to pull myself together and go to the cafeteria to prepare for the party.
Kuya: The Halloween party starts now!
Yuki: Happy Halloween! Thank you everyone for coming in costume!
Yuki: The party sweets were prepared by Sonoda-san, so everyone eat as much as you like!
Sonoda: Oh, of course, there's a fee. For unlimited helpings of Halloween sweets, it's 1,500 yen.
Yuki: I'd like pumpkin pie, pumpkin mont blanc, and pumpkin flan please!!
Sonoda: That's incredible, even though you ate so much already, you're still going to eat more.
Yuki: Ehehe, but they look so delicious.
Chiba: Pumpkin is delicious.
Sonoda: Kiyo, do you want something?
Joker: I'm fine. I was satisfied with Yuki-kun before.
Takato: It's very good that everyone is excited, but be careful of your surroundings please. ... Oops. *thud!*
Yagami: Ow! You hit me on the head with your staff, Secretary!
Takato: Or you'll be in trouble like this.
Arata: Okay!
Tomo: I can't tell who is who because of the costumes. Well, it's nice to not stand out.
Yuki: Then, now that everyone is excited, let's bob for apples!
Kuya: It's a staple of Halloween party games!
Takato: We've put some apples in plastic pool filled with water. Please pick up the apples without using your hands. The person who picks up the most is the winner.
Arata: Huh, we're supposed to bite into these big apples?
Yuki: Each one is like a large ball weighing 300-400g, but they're really juicy, high quality apples, so they're delicious.
Kuya: It's ok to grasp it with your teeth by the stem! Any part you grab is fine as long as you take them out individually.
Joker: So you should use only your mouth and not your hands. It might be an interesting contest with that technique.
Chiba: Just like Joker-sama, to be so relaxed about having both hands bound. Myself will also attempt the challege!
Yagami: If it's going to be a competition, I'm not gonna lose. I'm in too.
Arata: Do your best! I'll be supporting you with Maro!
Tomo: I'll pass. The water looks cold.
Kuya: Alright! So the participants are me, Yuki, Joker, Chiba-senpai, and Yagami-kun?
Yuki: Let's get lots of high quality apples!
Takato: Then, get ready, start!
Yuki: *holding breath!*
Yagami: Here I go! *splash!*
Kuya: *splash!*
Chiba: Kwaah!
Yagami: ... Damn!
Joker: Mm...
Yuki: Mghhhhhhh, after all, they're big and hard to bite into!
Yuki: Oh, if I turn the apple so the stem is up, that might make it easier. Mgh! Good, I got one more!
Arata: Do your best! ... The picture of everyone with their heads in the plastic pool is really surreal.
Sonoda: Watching from the sidelines like this, it looks subdued.
Chiba: Mm!
Yagami: Tch! I dropped it... These damn apples are surprisingly hard to pick up.
Yuki: This one's also stem-up! Lucky! Got my 3rd!
Joker: Hehe! *sing-song*
Takato: Time's up. Please stop and count how many apples you have.
Yuki: Phew, I guess I got a lot. Um, it's 6 in all!
Kuya: I have three! If I hadn't dropped my pumpkin hat into the pool, I would have gotten more!
Chiba: Myself has one. I'm mortified. From now on, I must train with both arms bound!
Joker: I have four. Whether I win or lose, I had fun seeing Yuki-kun's sexy face.
Arata: (to Chiba) Hayaya, is there any point to practicing kendo like that...?
Yagami: (to Takato) Dammit. I didn't even get one.
Tomo: Yagami, your make-up is running, it's getting bad.
Arata: It's a slit mouthed ghost!
Chiba: Ghost...!?
Takato: The winner is Asahina Yuki. Congratulations.
Takato: The prize is all the remaining apples.
Yuki: Alright! Lots of apples! *munch* So sweet!
Sonoda: Yuki-kun, can I have a bite?
Yuki: Here you go!
Sonoda: *munch* Yeah, delicious. It's juicy and has just the right balance of tartness and sweetness.
Joker: I'll also take a little bite. *munch*
Kuya: Yuki, give me a bite too!
Yuki: Kuya-san, you got three didn't you? Whichever you eat, it'll be delicious.
Tomo: Is it that delicious?
Yuki: I have a lot, so you can have one too, Tomo.
Tomo: Thanks. Mm, it's good.
Yagami: *munch* Mm, it's really sweet.
Yuki: Arata-san, here's some for you too.
Arata: Ahhn. Mm, it's delicious.
Kuya: Oh! There's nothing but the stem left!
Takato: Well then, we have to clean up the rest.
Sonoda: If you give me the apples, I'll make apple pies tomorrow for a low price.
Takato: Then, the student council will take one whole one, please.
Sonoda: Thanks and come again.
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Good Company- Part 4
Masterlist
Summary: While one love is confessed, another still festers inside.
Word Count: 3,670
Warnings: slight smut, angst (oops)
“We need to get you out of this rain.” Brian broke the kiss, the skin of his lips bitten and scarlet red, fresh blood risen to the surface of the soft skin. His breath was fanning against your face, soft breaths visible in the air, the muffled sounds of London nightlife on the cusp of remaining unheard. It just felt like it was you and Brian, two quickened heartbeats, four eyes--two cases of tunnel-vision, just for each other.
“You too. You’ll get sick.” You snapped out of your haze, looking down at yourself. You were a mess--soaked tennis shoes, caked in wet mud. Your jacket was weighty, your shoulders sunken by the mass of the ruined suede, but liberated from the stress of a love unconfessed. You were giddy; it felt as if the icy rain had seeped into your bloodstream, diluting the blood, making you light-headed and almost unbearably dizzy--but in a good way, in the best way possible.
Brian’s hands shook as he grasped the handle to the passenger-side door, his fingers were white like his nails--devoid of fresh blood. You knew he was in pain--he loathed the cold--but you’d never seen him look so genuinely happy. He had a goofy, almost drunk smile on his face that you had only seen a few times in your experiences with him. One of those times was three and a half months prior.
Brian had trudged into the shared flat, his clogs soggy with late-summer rain. He closed his umbrella, gently tapping the excess water off so it seeped into the doormat, which was once paisley-patterned, but was now faded by dust and the dirt of four men’s shoes. You--and the rest of his band--could tell something was off about him, by the way his eyes were glued to the floor as he sat at the second-hand loveseat angled towards the small couch across the room. You were sat on that couch, your legs thrown over Roger’s lap, Deaky on the other side, watching a game show intently as Freddie boiled a kettle of water for tea.
“What’s got your knickers in a twist, Brian?” Roger asked, flipping to a different channel, ignoring Deaky’s groans of protest, rolling his eyes. John resorted to curling up on the couch and closing his eyes, his lips pursed in anger.
“I told my mum and dad that I’m leaving school for the band.” He blurted, rubbing his hands over his face, his elbows resting on his pointy knees as he sighed deeply.
Freddie gasped, then yelped as he scalded his pinky finger with the boiling tea water. “Brian! Really? You’ve decided?”
This had been a major decision in the making for months--the band wanted to continue, to go further, try harder, be famous. And so did Brian. But he was shackled by his father’s expectations. He was supposed to get his doctorate in astrophysics. Get a good, high-paying job, get married, maybe have a few kids. But Brian felt the taste of fame and of pure appreciation every time he performed. And fame--fame was a fleeting thing. It happened or it didn’t, and when that juncture had elapsed, there was no going back. He pondered for months, weighing his options. Please his father but possibly be very unhappy, wondering about the lavish lifestyle he could have had, or give it a college try, and face condemnation from his family for going against their wishes, for wasting their money.
That was a huge driving force for his decision. He had grown up poor, having to work for everything he had, having to make a way to keep every hobby of his. And he had been taught to make wise decisions his whole life. To deliberate about his options, pros and cons; to stick with the decision wholeheartedly. But that’s what he did when he finally decided to pursue music full-time, but the irony was that within following his parents philosophy, he had to defy it.
“Yeah,” Brian answered, looking up from his hands, honey hazel eyes bloodshot from him rubbing them harshly. “I have to try it, I can’t live my life wondering how I could have lived, the life I could have had.”
“Exactly, Bri! I’m so glad you’ve decided to stick with it. I don’t say this often enough mate, but you don’t give yourself enough credit for how talented you are.” Roger shifted in his seat, uncomfortable from the overly-sappy confession, but ecstatic that Queen would remain lively--a true vocation instead of a weekend hobby.
“Brian, I’m so proud of you for making the right decision!” Freddie poured a fifth cup of tea--Earl Grey--into old fine china his mother had given him as a housewarming gift. “All cockiness intended, we are great musicians. We are going to get somewhere with this, I can feel it in my bones.” Freddie took a dramatic sip of tea, prodding the tea bag with his pinky finger.
“It’s true. It’s honestly very rare that four talented musicians who actually get along end up together. It’s kind of like fate.” John smiled at Brian, gapped teeth and gums revealed by its genuinity.
Freddie took the cups of tea to you guys, one by one. Steam was billowing from the top of each cup, which was chipped in its own “fabulous, unique way!”, just like Freddie said, when Roger examined the cracked china after finding them proudly displayed in the cupboard when they first moved in.
“Cheers!” Freddie yelled, his voice slightly cracking as he rose his arm in the hair, a pinky up, as he held his cup of tea. “To Queen. To many more recording sessions, to more albums, maybe a tour of the world! To Brian, for making it happen!” You all stood up, and clinked your cups, the soft tinkle of them permeating the air, humid and stuffy from the last, fleeting fragment of summer. Brian smiled so hard his eyes were crinkled shut as his bony fingers held the impossibly tiny teacup, his long pinky upright, just like the rest of you.
You climbed into the car with him, your muddy shoes making a large stain on the small carpet rug lying on the floor. Brian pulled the sleeve of your coat down, a gesture to convince you to rid yourself of the wet garment. He set it in the backseat, reaching over the driver’s seat.
“Oh! Heat, that would be fantastic right now.” Brian scolded himself as he turned the dial for the car heater, sighing in relief as warm, seemingly artificial air blasted from the fragile vents. You were already warm from his touch, from the love, the promise of change--good change.
“I don’t even know what to say, Brian. I can’t believe we feel the same way about each other, but we honestly don’t know anything about each other.” You burst out laughing, eyes screwed shut as Brian drove mindlessly in the rain, away from the lively city, away from the chaos of the past month--it was almost symbolic in a way.
“Fuck, you’re right, Y/N! I don’t honestly know the first personal detail about you.” Brian took a sharp turn down a black country road, the bumps and hills making your stomach drop, a makeshift roller coaster. “Tell me more about yourself; random things.” He pinched your leg a little as he drove with one hand, and you grabbed it as he was pulling it away, intertwining your fingers with his much longer ones. He shifted in his seat, the emergence of a smile on his still-red lips.
“You go first, Brian. Where are we going? That’s my first question.”
He put a finger to his lips and furrowed his eyebrows dramatically. “Shhh. You’ll see when we get there, won’t we?”
“We’ll never see if you don’t put your hands back on the wheel!” You planted your intertwined hands on the wheel, swerving the car gently to the right.
“Alright, I’ll start, I guess. What do you want to know?” Brian asked, looking at you briefly.
“What’s your favorite color?” You traced the veins of his hand, and Brian revelled in the feeling of your touch, his skin still wet.
“Black. And that’s the best question you can come up with? Really?” Brian rolled his eyes playfully and squeezed your hand, almost as a sign he was only joking.
“Well, I didn’t know that!” You pinched his cheek as he stopped the car. He quickly turned the headlights off, attempting to stop you from seeing where you were. The car was enveloped in long weeds--browned dandelions creeping up the sides of the car as he parked it in a field which was frozen over.
“This is a bit creepy, Bri.” You held onto his hand, nervous.
“Don’t worry, Y/N. Relax.” He took a deep breath, rose his eyebrows at you and waited for you to do the same, before he tightened his grip on your hand slightly, before letting go, automatically causing the cold winter air to seep into your body as if Brian were your insulator--keeping your warmth inside. He stepped out of the car and trudged through the thin layer of snow, ice cracking beneath his numbed feet, as he opened the passenger door and led you out of his car. He had a blanket in one hand, and your own hand in the other.
In front of you sat a dilapidated barn, plywood cracked and graffitied, un-paned windows smashed through with jagged patterns. Red paint chips peeled from the sides, but Brian was smiling as he walked into the barn, looking around before he pulled you in. He turned on a light fixture that was hanging by the ceiling; he pulled the makeshift switch gently, as it looked like any excess force at all would bring the entire building crumbling to the ground.
You looked at him, still confused as to where you were; what purpose this served.
Brian held a finger up as he spread a blanket on the floor, tapping the spot next to him for you to sit down. “My dad took me here when I was little and started to become obsessed with the sky.” He explained, pulling you into his chest as you laid beneath the stars which blended in and out of focus as miniscule tears stung at your eyes. “We could never admire the sky at home, too much contamination in the sky.” He petted your hair and pointed at a small star which seemed to be alone--away from any of the other clusters of them which hung in the sky like make-do night lights. “That star--I’ve always resonated with it. It’s lightyears away from us--and seemingly away from every other star in the sky. But in reality, it’s as far as every other star.” Brian sniffled; you could feel a tear fall from his cheek onto yours. “And that’s how I felt. Like I was always behind everyone; like I was out of it--the world. I felt bad for myself this past month and forever really. I didn’t try to make it better. I didn’t realize that everyone else in this world feels alone too.”
You sat up, wiping your eyes with your sleeve as you looked down at him. His hair was spread across the blanket and he looked utterly angelic as he fiddled with the rings on his pinky, staring up at you as you were, down at him. “And why are you telling me this?” You bent down and kissed his cheek, and he pulled you back down so you were laying, completely on top of him.
“Because after meeting you, after falling in love with you--that’s when I realized that. That I have to take control of my own life instead of wallowing in self-pity. And when you were taken away from me, I lost that again. You drive me fucking crazy, Y/N. I mean, literally I need you to function properly. How pathetic is that?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s pathetic when I sort of went crazy without you.” You replied, playing with the buttons on his shirt, his breaths heavy, laborious. “I was on my way to a date with a guy I absolutely despise before you saw me.”
Brian perked up, sitting on his elbows. “You stood him up?” He rose his eyebrows, a cheeky smirk on his lips.
“Well, I guess I did.”
He pulled you down again, before he kissed you so deeply you got the same feeling you got when it felt like you were falling as you fell asleep--Brian was attacking your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth. These kisses were hotter and deeper--not like the passionate ones you shared at the bus stop earlier. His hands grabbed at your ass and you moaned quietly as your hands played with shorter curls at the nape of his neck.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N. You’re driving me to the brink of insanity.” Brian flipped you over, so you were on your back, and his hips bucked against your core as he kissed you again--teeth clashing, noses bumping together. Shallow moans left your mouths as your hands trailed down his back, untucking his soaked shirt from his trousers which were just barely drier.
___
“Where the fuck is Brian?” Roger looked at the time ticking away at an antique clock he and Freddie snagged from a rude saleswoman on Kensington street. Not that it was worth much anyway; the minute hand was so far behind it was beyond fixing. The time was approaching eleven, and Brian had left almost five hours ago for a two-hour tutoring session.
“I’m kind of worried.” John was standing opposite of Roger, on the other side of the counter which was cluttered with food; they were trying to clean out the refrigerator. This always happened when Brian was gone for a long time--they didn’t really know what to do without his calm rationale. Freddie was sat on the tile floor, legs crossed as he sifted through expired cheeses and condiments, dramatically gagging as he handed them to Roger.
“These pickles have an expiration date of July 1969. We hadn’t even lived here yet, how the fuck does that happen?” Roger handed the jar to Deaky, who dumped the juice down the sink, making a disgusted face at the foul smell.
“Brian should really be back by now, it’s been hours.” Freddie closed the drawer in the refrigerator with his sock-covered foot and admired the pile of expired food on the counter in front of them. “We are disgusting!” He giggled and tossed things in the trash, as Roger inspected a particularly repulsive bottle of ketchup.
“Who knows what he’s doing, probably being a geek at that poor boy’s house.” Roger sniffed at the ketchup and then shoved it under Freddie’s nose, making Freddie slap Roger’s hand so hard he dropped the bottle.
“If that would have spilled everywhere I would have fucking left.” Deaky shuddered and washing his hands vigorously in the kitchen sink.
Roger sighed, looking at a bottle of horseradish sitting on the table. You despised horseradish. Sometimes he would sneak a dollop onto a sandwich he made you and watch you get angry, playfully slapping him as your tongue burnt from the disgusting taste. He missed you, as much as he hated to admit it,he did. He knew it was a long shot, that the chances of you taking him back were slim to none, but he couldn’t help wanting you. He set the bottle of expired horseradish down. “I want Y/N back.” He blurted, and Freddie kicked him.
“Roger, no. None of the Queen members will be shagging nor dating Y/N. She is ruining our relationship as friends and as a band. I love her, but this was fate.”
Deaky agreed, taking gulp of water, trying to swish the bad taste out of his mouth. “Exactly. We do love her, but I think it’s time you and Bri let her go.” Just as Deaky finished the last of his water, Brian walked into the door, soaking wet. His hair was frizzy, his natural curls bouncing as he took his coat off, which still smelled slightly of your floral perfume.
“What took you so bloody long?” Roger looked him up and down, confused at his mess of a state.
“I got caught up in the rain, Rog. Can’t you see I’m soaked?”
“I didn’t know you drove outside of the car, Brian. Truly fascinating.” Deaky rose his eyebrows, before pointing to a dark purple mark near Brian’s adam’s apple which was bobbing from anxiety. “See, Rog? Bri already got over Y/N!”
Brian covered the hickey with his hand and went into the bathroom, tilting his head back to look at it in the mirror which was barely fogged from Freddie’s shower earlier. He hardly formed a smirk before he realized he would have to hide his relationship with you--if that was what it was. He wrapped himself in a fluffy, raggedy towel before he sat down on the couch. The rest of the boys were still in the kitchen bickering about Roger’s confession.
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Freddie whispered harshly. “Brian said he was in love with her. You can’t blatantly hurt him like that.”
“I’m not trying to hurt him, I was dating her first!” Roger replied, rolling his eyes.
“She isn’t a toy at the kindergarten, Rog. And you know that Brian would never truly forgive you for that. He could act like it was okay all he wanted, but he would be hurting inside seeing you with her.” Deaky hoisted himself on the counter, unpeeling a banana, before pointing it at the other two men. “You see, like if Brian was dating her. You would be heartbroken, yeah?” He shrugged his shoulders.
Roger agreed. “I suppose, yeah. But Y/N and I have history. You know? It’s different with me and her.”
Brian stood up from the couch, dizzy from not eating much the entire day. But even though the kitchen was five feet away, he went to his bedroom, unable to hear them talk about you and about him as if he couldn’t hear. Unable to be in the same room while he silently lied to them. Instead, Brian opened a book his father had bought him about the night sky for Christmas when he was young--about eight or nine. The inside cover was dog-eared, creased and yellowed around the edges--it was a very old edition. The dedication page had his father’s swirly cursive looped together, black ink smooth and languid.
Brian, Always look up at the sky and know anything is possible, you just have to go for it.
Christmas 1956. Love, Dad.
___
The next morning, the clock next to Brian’s bed read near noon when his eyes adjusted to the morning light seeping in through his windows. His room was the tidiest of all of the boys; he had a tall bookshelf filled with books on various scientific phenomena, classic novels, books about the guitar and riveting memoirs--most of which he had read many times. His clothes were neatly hanged in his wardrobe, his bed looked barely slept in. He had barely woken up when he heard banging on his door, the jingling of keys.
“Brian!” Roger opened the door without a care in the world, plopping down on Brian’s bed. Brian moved his knees back and grumbled, annoyed by Roger’s attitude.
“What?” Brian snapped, rubbing his hand over his eyes.
Roger held Brian’s keys up, jingling them quietly. “Can I borrow your car?”
“Why can’t you just take the van?” Brian sat up, pulling a shirt over his head, ruffling his curls.
“Because I don’t want to fucking rattle around in a giant van when I just need to pick up some new drumsticks.”
“Okay, Jesus. Just don’t drive like a maniac, please.” Brian got out from under the covers, finding a pair of jeans neatly folded on the floor. Roger covered his eyes. “You came into my room, Roger. You can look at my ass.”
__
You cupped your hands on the side of your face, the edges of your chilled thumbs resting on your cheeks. You had been so blissed out by the events of the previous night, you had forgotten your wallet in Brian’s car. And you could see it as you peeked into the window of his old Volvo, resting in the cupholder, untouched from when you left it. You were panicking. You weren’t on good terms with Roger, and you couldn’t be on good terms with Brian--or else they would know.
You gasped, seeing Roger walk giddily towards Brian’s car, which you were attempting to hide behind. He was twirling Brian’s keys around his pointer finger, a keychain of the Earth clicking against the almost-rusted car keys.
“Y/N?” Roger smiled, stopping in his tracks as he saw you crouched behind the car, your fingers inexpertly grasped onto the back taillight. “What are you doing here?” Roger looked cocky, assured that you had come to visit him. You were livid with him, and six weeks of sorrow--of pure pity--transformed into anger, disgust by his actions. You stood up, and were about to argue with him--pick at him, like you knew he hated--when he pulled you in by hem of your sweater, dank from the soft rain of that morning. He kissed you, his tongue massaging yours as his hands rested on your hips, which were slightly bruised from the night before.
Brian halted as he strode out of the front door, his hands shoved in his pockets, toying with the hole in the lining. His face fell when he saw you, wrapped in Roger’s arms, kissing him gently in the soft rain. He turned around so fast, he didn’t see you push him away. The sound of Roger’s protests were muffled by the resonance of blood rushing to his ears, the burning of a choked sob begging to be cried.
____
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#brian may#brian may fanfic#brian may smut#brian may x reader#gwilym lee#joe mazzello#john deacon#ben hardy#roger taylor#rami malek#borhap#bohemian rhapsody#queen#angst#fanfiction#fanfic
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Chatting in the Green Night
Phic Phight attack 2
Prompt: “Danny gets a large head injury that knocks him unconscious for a few days. In this state he ends up meeting his other half, Phantom.” - @thecommrade
Genre: Friendship
Words: 1190
A swerve, a crash. Oops, Danny sure hoped the homeowners whose house he’d just barrelled through had insurance. Cracks appeared on the wall behind him where he’d crashed and white rings split from his waist.
“Now, whelp, you are mine.” Skulker pointed his blaster right between the now human ghost boy’s eyes, robotic finger pulling down on the trigger. Only to be knocked off his aim, quite literally, by Jazz Fenton, who brandished her own smoking blaster. Skulker’s shot went up, far from his target, taking out a support beam on its way.
The chunk of ceiling above Danny caved in burying him in rubble. The flash of blue light from the Fenton thermos was the last thing he recognised before Danny’s vision was obscured by the avalanche of brick and tiles pounding against his skull.
• • •
He wasn’t quite sure where he had ended up, stars were splattered across the navy blue ceiling, occasional green swirls interjecting themselves between the constellations, but other than the odd sky, the room was rather plain. Danny pushed himself up off the soft carpeted floor, glancing around at the turquoise walls and most notably, the white haired figure sat cross legged opposite him.
“Um…” Danny wasn’t quite sure how to approach this situation, but before he could actually say anything, neon green eyes, shining like headlights, opened up, calmly surveying him.
“Hello there,” said Phantom, a soft smile spreading across his uncannily inhuman face, small fangs becoming visible as his lips stretched.
“Uh, hi?” Danny responded, dumbstruck - this was him, yet at the same time it wasn’t.
Phantom got to his feet and outstretched a white gloved hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, a humorous glimmer in his eyes.
Fenton took the offered hand, shaking it slightly, the cold energy from the ghost against his warm skin feeling both alien and comforting at the same time.
“Am I dead?” The question slipped out of Danny’s mouth, just for Phantom to bark out a laugh.
“Nah, not fully at least - just unconscious. Remember the whole being hit on the head thing?”
Oh, yeah. Memories of his grueling fight with Skulker flooded back and Danny winced. Skulker had been trying out some brute force weapons, all of which had probably given him several bruises each.
“So, where is this?” he asked at last, gesturing around them to the spacious room.
Phantom shrugged. “Not sure to be honest. Probably some manifestation of the unconscious mind or some sort of other psychology mumbo-jumbo.”
Danny needed to sit down. This was getting mentally exhausting very quickly. As if the room could sense his feelings, a plush couch, identical to the one in his home, materialised behind him, catching him as he fell backwards into it.
“And if this is all in my head, who are you?” Danny enquired, crossing his legs on the seat.
Phantom sat back down on the floor, sitting cross legged like a mirror. “I guess I’m you, or part of you? A mental manifestation of your ghost half? Or maybe because the core can act like a brain, I’m an embodiment of your core? Hell if I know. I just know that I need to stop listening to Jazz so much.”
“Maybe we’re parts that fuse together to create a whole?” Danny suggested.
Phantom picked at his lip. “Maybe? But that sounds like something from a cartoon.”
“Remind me to never talk to Jazz about this,” Danny muttered, and Phantom chuckled “same”.
Seconds of silence followed, in which Danny felt an eerie sense that he shouldn’t be able to talk to himself like this. It was far different from his experience with the ghost catcher, with each half seeming almost like a whole in their own right as opposed to the exaggerated fragments of personality the ghost catcher had created.
“Why do you look different to how I, we look as a ghost?” Danny asked.
Phantom glanced at him confused, before shrugging for the second time in their conversation. “Maybe our human half balances it out. Why? How do I look?”
Danny hesitated, then said, “ghostly.”
“Wow, how profound,” deadpanned Phantom. “Do I have all our brain cells?”
“Hey! Let's be honest, there's hardly any brain cells between us.”
“Harsh, but okay.”
“You kinda have fangs, and you're really pale, like green pale,” Fenton finally explained.
Phantom paled even further, going from greenish to sheet white. “I don't have pointed ears, do I?” He turned his head.
Fenton's breath hitched. He did. Phantom noticed this reaction almost instantly. “Crud! I do, don't I?”
Danny nodded. “But that might just be normal for ghosts?” he tried to reassure himself. “We should probably talk to Jazz about that.”
That was something that Danny would sooner eat Dash's underpants again than talk about, but the lingering fear even after the largely useless reassurance convinced both halves that it would be for the best.
Fenton scrambled to change the topic from him. “Y’know, you look like an elf.”
Phantom accepted the change in tone gratefully. “Oh God, not like Vlad and…”
Great, they were back on him. “Wait, he's an elf?” Phantom snorted.
Well, this was certainly an improvement, maybe they wouldn't have to talk to Jazz after all. The image of Dan Phantom in a bright red and green Christmas elf costume, complete with bells, passed through both their minds and they quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles.
“Hey, maybe pointy ears aren't that bad after all? You can be a...uh, what else has pointy ears?” Fenton asked.
Phantom gave shrug number three. “It'll probably come to us in the shower or the middle of an exam.”
They both snorted.
Fenton suddenly became quiet. “Hey, do I look different to my usual human form?”
Phantom hummed, his eyes sweeping up and down Fenton. “A bit, I guess. Your eyes are more of a pure blue, and you feel different - too warm. It’s weird, y’know.”
“Yeah,” Fenton leaned back, eyes unfocused, staring at the sky as he thought. “I kinda thought you’d be some kind of eldritch monster or something, y’know, like if I ever met Phantom as a separate person. This is a relief - knowing that Phantom’s just me, as a ghost.”
Phantom didn’t even bother responding - he was Danny as a ghost.
The two sat and watched the sky, stars travelling across the sky as the hours went by. Portals and wisps of ectoplasm, the exact same colour as Phantom’s, and that of the portal and the zone itself, glowed, stronger and brighter, just as much a part of Danny’s internal world as anything else.
And as time continued, the sky seemed to brighten, almost insignificantly at first, gaining an orange hue to it, the stars somehow remaining despite this. The views of the duo became closer, until virtually indistinguishable from each other as the sun breached the edge of the ceiling. The sun became a lamplight as Danny came to his senses, blinking the shining spots out of his eyes.
“Danny! You’re awake!” Jazz cried, hurling herself at him in a hug before yelling for her parents to come.
He was home.
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Good for the Soul (Keith x reader)
HAPPY (LATE OOPS) BIRTHDAY MY DEAR FRIEND @panda-noosh I LOVE YOU A LOT
This is a birthday gift for a lovely and very very talented friend of mine, I hope you enjoy it love <3 (also this was supposed to be SHORT ack)
~Mod Water
Word count: 5.6 K
Genre: fluff/angst
Notes: masterlist - roommate au - broganes for the win - i promise i’ll get to the requests now asap i’ll abandon my uploading schedule to update as often as possible ack
---
You grunted under the combined weight of your backpack and your big suitcase, slightly out of breath after climbing three sets of stairs, logging them along. You squinted at the crumpled piece of paper in your hand, on which you had scribbled the building name, and your floor and room number. Room 2.14, second floor.
You started pulling your suitcase along the hallway, occasionally smiling at your fellow students who were holding pieces of paper similar to yours, some looking like they knew exactly where they needed to go, others looking like they were completely and utterly lost. You had thought that the dorms would be way more crowded, but it was the middle of the afternoon and a lot of the students would be spending their time outside. It was a warm, sunny day, and they would be making the most of it before classes started. You squeezed past a group of boys and girls idly chatting in a doorway, glancing to your right occasionally to check on the door numbers.
2.8, 2.10, 2.12... at last, you stopped before the door that bore a big 2.14 in golden numbers. You scanned your note again, just to make sure that you weren't about to barge into the wrong room. No, this was it, you were sure of it. You adjusted your grip on the handle of your suitcase and turned the doorknob.
You didn't know what you had been expecting. This was the Galaxy Garrison, after all. The most prestigious university in the country. However, that didn't mean that the dorms were overly luxurious. There were two bedrooms, one for you and one for your roommate, a small living room containing a sofa, a couple of chairs and a television, and a bathroom that you would share.
Were you nervous about meeting your roommate? Definitely, at least a little bit. You had spent half of the five-hour-long train ride from your home to the Garrison imagining what they would be like, the conversations in your head ranging from worst-case scenario (a creepy, unpleasant dude-bro type) to best-case scenario (a very adorable, nice, caring sweetie of a roomie). You were prepared for almost everything. Almost everything.
"Keith, get off your ass and go outside before I drag you there."
"Fuck off."
You stood in the living room, slightly disoriented and confused over the bickering that seemed to be taking place in one of the bedrooms. You assumed one of the voices must belong to your roommate. Cautiously, you tiptoed to where the voices were coming from, leaving your suitcase standing in front of the couch.
"You can't run from people and socialising forever, you know." This voice was deeper, sounded amused. You took another step towards the voices.
"Watch me." The other voice was a little higher, slightly hoarse, but still definitely a guy's voice. He sounded tired, voice slightly muffled as if he was lying face-down on a pillow. "Let me sleep, Shiro." You were going off a wild guess that the last voice belonged to your roommate.
You rounded a corner and stopped short. Your path was suddenly blocked by a very tall man. As you craned your neck to look him up and down, you felt smaller and smaller. He towered at least a solid foot over you, and his stocky build and broad shoulders didn't help. He stood with his back to you, leaning against the doorframe. He wore a white shirt and jeans, and his dark hair was cut short. You tried to look over his shoulder, standing on your tippy toes, and just managed to make out a vaguely human-sized shape curled up on the bed.
"Should have gotten enough sleep yesterday. You knew you'd have to get up early to catch your train," the tall guy chided. You thought of a father reprimanding his kid, and you had to bite back a snicker. The other had called him something, what was it again? Shane? Chad?
"Fuck off, Shiro," came the muffled voice, though it sounded more like a whine than anything else. Ah, you thought, Shiro. That had been it. Over Shiro's shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the other guy curling even more into himself, as if trying to become so small that Shiro would forget he was there. It didn't work.
"Keith," Shiro tried again, a slightly exasperated tone to his voice. So that was his name. "Come on. It's nice outside! You'd get to meet new people, and I'm sure Matt would love to see you."
"Just ten more minutes."
"You said that half an hour ago, dipshit."
This went on for a while, Shiro never seeming to give up on getting Keith up and outside, while Keith showed a remarkable amount of spine and flat-out refused to move from his perch on his bed. A few times you actually thought he'd dozed off, until Shiro snapped his fingers and brought him back to the world of the living. You leant against the wall behind you, arms crossed and a grin playing on your lips, grateful for Shiro's big frame shielding your small one. The two boys were so focused on each other that they hadn't even noticed you.
Finally, Shiro said, "What will your roommate think if they find you like this?" You pushed off the wall. This was the perfect moment to reveal that, hey, said roommate had been standing right here all along! You racked your brain for a funny one-liner that was bound to make a good impression, when you heard Keith's reply.
"Look at all the fucks I give."
And you snorted. Shiro whirled around, eyes alarmed, when his gaze fell on you and his expression morphed into one of surprise and confusion. You cleared your throat and raised a hand. "Hi. I'm–I'm the roommate."
Shiro's eyebrows shot up. A surprised "Oh!" left his lips, but then he seemed to catch himself and he extended his hand, an easy smile on his face. "Nice to meet you. I'm Takashi Shirogane."
You took his hand. His grip was surprisingly gentle. "Y/N L/N," you answered, trying to muffle your grin. Shiro glanced over his shoulder, suddenly looking a little embarrassed.
"How–how long have you been standing there?"
You chuckled, following Shiro's gaze to the tangle of blankets and human limbs that was Keith. "Long enough." You ignored Shiro's slight flinch of embarrassment. "Hi," you shouted over his shoulder. "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you." A hand rose up from the blankets and gave you a tired wave before flopping back down. Oh well, you thought, you'd have it.
"Don't mind him," Shiro said as you went back to the living room to retrieve your suitcase. This was the fourth time he had apologised for Keith's behaviour in the past ten minutes, despite you insisting that it was really no problem. You wheeled your case to the room that had to be yours and heaved it onto the bed with a grunt, then turned towards the door where Shiro was still standing and planted a hand on your hip.
"I'll make sure he sees some fresh air before tonight, all right?" You gave him a tired smile. You had just travelled five hours by train and frankly craved some peace and quiet. The subtle hint didn't go unnoticed by Shiro, who finally exited your room after telling you that you could always knock on his door if you had a problem. You said you sure would, even though you didn't have a clue where his room was, and gently but firmly ushered him out the door. You closed it with a sigh and checked your watch. It was half past four. Dinner would be served at seven, and you were determined to spend at least some time outside, getting to know the school grounds. You turned back to your still-bare room and started unpacking your stuff.
About an hour later, your room looked less barren and actually like a place you could see yourself spend your time, studying or otherwise. You had stuck up some photos of your family and close friends on the wall above your bed, had arranged your clothes in your closet, placed your books on the shelf you'd been delighted to find there. Once it was empty, you shoved your suitcase underneath your bed and looked around your room, feeling quite satisfied with yourself. It looked kind of cosy. You made a mental note to invest in fairy lights as soon as you could. You had them at home, hanging around your window. You'd had them ever since you were a little kid. This place wouldn't feel like home without them.
It was close to six o'clock, and the sun started to descend along the sky. You grabbed your key from your nightstand and closed the door to your room behind you. As you passed Keith's room, you shot a glance inside and stopped short.
You planted a hand on your hip. "Well, look who's alive. Come to join the land of the living?"
The boy sitting on the edge of his bed had the decency to look at least mildly embarrassed. He had cleaned up his room, you saw: it wasn't nearly as much of a mess as it had been earlier this afternoon. He had straightened the sheets on his bed and was now tying his shoes. He looked up and shot you a somewhat awkward smile.
"Yeah. Sorry about this afternoon." He stood up and walked towards you, extending a hand, though a little stiffly. You shook it, examining his face for the first time. A pale, pointy face, a sharp jawline. He was also quite a bit taller than you, though not as much as Shiro. Black tufts of hair fell in front of his dark eyes. You couldn't quite make out their colour.
"I'm Y/N," you said, just for the sake of a proper introduction. Keith smiled.
"Keith Kogane."
---
Keith burst through the door into the living room, where you had plopped yourself on the sofa with your laptop resting on your knees. You calmly paused the film you were watching and took off your headphones. "'Sup?"
Keith threw himself onto the sofa next to you and closed his eyes, hood pulled up and shadowing his face. His jaw was tense and he bounced his knee in the way he did when he was upset or worked up. You frowned, setting aside your laptop and shifting closer to your friend. "Hey, what's wrong?"
It had been six months since you had first met Keith and started living with him. The first days had been slightly awkward, but you had soon grown used to each other. Now, you couldn't quite recall what it was like before the two of you had been living together. You and Keith had grown very close over that time. You were bound to; you lived together, after all. You had become attached to each other. You couldn't remember the last time you had a friend you trusted like you trusted Keith. The last time you had a friend that you cared about like you cared about Keith.
Which meant that you noticed exactly when something was bothering him. Like right now, something was bothering him.
"Keith," you pressed, nudging his arm. Keith wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them up to his torso and resting his chin on his knees. His eyes were stormy, a dark grey. It was a startling difference from his usual violet. His dark eyebrows were knotted together, his black hair only shadowing his eyes further. People would call Keith scary when he was like this. Furious. To you, he just looked sad.
"What happened?" Keith shot you a sideways glance, burying his face in his arms.
"I got an official warning. From Iverson," he finally mumbled. You frowned, shaking your head slightly. "I'm on probation. A month." Your heart seemed to skip a beat.
"What? Why?" Keith turned away from you, but you grabbed his arm and forced him to look at you. You instantly noticed something was wrong. The living room was dark, and Keith's hood shielded his face to a certain extent, but his left eye seemed narrower than his right one, and something wet shone on his upper lip. With trembling hands, you lowered his hood.
"Fuck, Keith, what the fuck!" you nearly shouted in horror. You fumbled for the light switch, ignoring the way Keith seemed to shrink away from the sharp light. "Oh, no." In the light, you could see his face even better. In this case, that wasn't such a good thing.
Keith's left eye was swollen and black, and a huge purple bruise blossomed over his left cheek and below that, a similarly-sized bruise on his jaw. His nose didn't seem too badly hurt, but it was swollen and purple and it did bleed, and droplets of blood trickled over his lip onto his hoodie. A nasty cut bled angrily over his right eyebrow.
"Let me see your hands," you demanded shakily. Keith offered them to you without a word. The knuckles of both hands were bloody and bruised. You scrambled up, dashing to the cupboard to grab the first-aid kit and forced Keith to look at you and take his hoodie off. You popped it open and took out the disinfectant, spreading it on some cotton and gently dabbing it on Keith's cuts. He flinched and hissed when the stingy product came into contact with the open wounds, but he didn't move. He closed his eyes and simply allowed you to patch him up. It was a slow process, and you weren't very skilled, which became only more clear when your hands wouldn't stop shaking with worry.
"Sorry," you muttered as Keith sucked in a breath through clenched teeth when you rubbed a soothing salve on his bruises just a little too harshly than necessary.
"'S okay," he said softly. You finished tending to his beat-up face as gently as you could, and sat back with a sigh when you were done.
"What the hell, Keith," you asked weakly. You had tried to hide how you felt when you looked at him when he looked like he just got run over by a car. But his bruised and bloody knuckles had been enough confirmation for you: he'd gotten into a fight. A pretty bad one too, from the looks of it. Keith knew you as well as you knew him: there was no point in hiding how shaken up you were. "Why?"
Keith looked away, eyes a little dazed, pulling his knees up to his chest again. "Nothing. It's not important, anyway."
You fought the urge to hit him. "What do you mean, it's not important?" Keith opened his mouth to reply, but you held up a hand to silence him. "You fought. You got caught, and now you're on probation, and you tell me it's not important? Do you think I'm an idiot?"
Keith lifted his head and cast you an almost hurt look. "No, of course not, Y/N."
You took a deep breath. "Who did this to you?" You kept your glare fixed on your laptop, the paused screen long since turned to black. Anything not to look Keith in the eye. Your heart had lurched almost painfully at his hurt expression.
"Some sophomore assholes. They–they got on my nerves. I snapped." Keith fiddled with the hem of his shirt, the way he did when he was embarrassed or nervous. You hated that you knew that. You hated the way your heart beat faster at the sound of his hoarse voice, the edge from earlier gone. Now his voice sounded merely tired.
You rubbed your forehead with the back of your hand. "What did they say?"
For a while, no sound except your breathing split the silence. Then Keith grunted as he tried to stand up. You were by his side in seconds, helping him lean on you when he needed to. You pursed your lips as you led him to his room, where you gently lowered him onto his bed. He was still fully clothed, but he didn't seem to mind. He closed his eyes, tried to even his breathing. You stood in the doorway for only a short while as you watched him, before turning to your own room, your mind a hurricane of thoughts.
What had the guys said to Keith to make him snap? You knew of Keith's history as his high school's troublemaker, but he'd assured you that he didn't want to fight any more. And it had really seemed that way. For a while, at least. Until tonight. You had seen him dangerously close to throwing a punch, when he'd clench and unclench his fists, trying to regain control of his emotions. You had learned a way to calm him down, and things had gone well.
Until tonight.
The fact that Keith hadn't wanted to tell you what the fight had been about bothered you. You and Keith told each other close to everything. For crying out loud, he was on probation. If he stepped out of line again, he would be suspended, maybe even expelled. The thought made you sick. The thought of not having Keith around anymore made you sick.
You rolled over, clutching your comforter and staring at the fairy lights you'd strung up around the window. You'd have to text Shiro tomorrow morning, in case Keith needed help showering. You thought he might have a couple bruised ribs. With those happy thoughts on your mind, you finally drifted off to sleep.
Turned out that you were right. You had called Shiro first thing the next morning, after seeing that every movement seemed to cause Keith pain. Shiro swore and assured you that he would be right there, and the two of them had helped Keith limp to the infirmary.
Now you both sat in the waiting room at the hospital wing, Shiro bouncing his knee restlessly and glaring out of the window with his arms crossed. You quietly observed him, slightly impressed by the intensity of his scowl. He looked like he was wishing a slow and painful death on each and every pigeon that dared fly across the window. You felt the need to speak up. You did, even though it caused you to cringe because of how loud and out of place your voice sounded in the empty waiting room.
"He's gonna be fine, you know."
Shiro cast you a sideways glance and heaved a sigh. All the tension seemed to disappear from his shoulders, and suddenly he just looked weary. "I know. It's just..."
He bit his lip, fiddling idly with the hem of his shirt. "In high school, Keith was known as the brawler. The guy who couldn't back away from a fight. He promised that he was going to change that at the Garrison."
"But he did," you said cautiously. You had heard this story already. You wondered why Shiro was telling it to you again. He shot you a tired look.
"Yeah, he did. And the only reason he was able to hold himself back was you."
The words hit you like a truck, and you had a hard time processing them at first. You stared at Shiro, waiting for him to jump up and say April fools! Shiro merely stared back, gaze serious as ever. You shook your head dumbly, uttering a sheepish "What?"
Shiro sighed, slumping back a little in his chair. "He's just–more himself when he's around you. I've noticed the way he kind of leans into you when you take his arm to prevent him from beating some sorry asshole to a pulp." You stared at him dumbly, unable to form words. Your brain had hit TILT. "He relies on you, Y/N. And yesterday, when he came across those sophomores, you weren't there." You cringed at that. You knew that Shiro hadn't meant it as an accusation, but you couldn't help but feel guilty anyway. "I'm worried about what will happen to him when you're not there to hold him back."
You took a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. You racked your brain for something to say. You came up empty.
Thankfully, the nurse chose that moment to come knocking on the waiting room door and inform you that Keith was ready to see visitors. Nothing serious, she assured you. Three bruised ribs, a bruised hip and a mild concussion. Keith would have to stay in the hospital wing for one night, then he'd be able to go back to his dorm. He wasn't allowed to go to any classes for a couple of days, at least. Make sure of that, she told you with a stern look. Yes, nurse, I'll make sure. Then you started after Shiro, who had already joined Keith at his bedside.
Something in you made you halt. Maybe it was the feeling of intrusion as you watched the two boys speak to each other in hushed tones. Maybe it was the desire to know what Keith would say when you weren't there. You hold him back, Shiro had said. I don't want him to hold back right now, you thought. So you sidled up against the wall and listened.
"I thought we made a deal." Shiro's soft voice. He was trying to hold back his anger, you noticed. The slight tremor in his voice gave him away.
"You weren't there, Shiro." Keith. Piled-up emotion, a crack. He'd never been good at keeping his voice level. You let the first tear fall.
"What happened?"
"They were–they said awful things. About them. About Y/N." His voice shook. He didn't even try to ban the absolute fury. "What they'd like to do to them. Then one of them started shouting at me. He knew that I'm their roommate." A deep breath. "I just–my vision went red. I snapped. I'm sorry, Shiro. I don't know what came over me, but when it comes to Y/N–" There was a pause, and you imagined Keith opening and closing his mouth, not knowing what to say. He meant it. You could hear that he meant every single word of it. The tears flowed freely now. You weren't even trying to hold them back anymore.
You pushed off the wall, wrapping your arms around your torso, as if that would keep you from falling apart. You were confused, worried and scared. Scared of Keith's honesty, and scared because you knew that those words hadn't been meant for your ears. Not yet, at least. You didn't know if Keith ever planned on telling you what he just told Shiro. Pushing through the doors of the infirmary, you felt a little guilty for leaving Keith. But he had Shiro, and you were not quite ready to face him yet. A part of you was relieved that he wouldn't come back to your room until the next evening; it gave you time to think. Time to figure out what exactly it was that you felt.
You were scared because your own feelings had just been thrown in a blender. You were never one to dwell much on feelings. You didn't necessarily ignore them, but you also didn't face them. It was like seeing a vaguely familiar someone as you walk through a park. Should you go talk to them? Nah, It probably hadn't even been them. Oh well, you think with shrug, and then you stroll on.
---
A crash woke you with a start. Your heart thundered in your chest and out of reflex, you tried to make your breathing as quiet as possible. You slipped out of your bed, your socked feet not making a sound on the linoleum floorboards. A grunt sounded from the living room, and you heard heavy breathing. You grabbed the first object you could find that would be somewhat suited as a weapon. In this case, a metal ruler.
You tiptoed towards the living room, steadying your breathing, brandishing your ruler, getting ready to slap any intruder there might be. Your fingers travelled along the wall until they found the light switch and rested atop it for a moment. You took a deep breath, tightened your grip on the ruler, counted to three and flipped the switch–
"Keith?"
It was him, that you were pretty sure of. You'd recognise his mop of raven hair anywhere. What you didn't understand was why he was lying on the floor of your living room at one A.M., clutching his knee and generally looking like he was in agony. In the back of your mind, you thought, Didn't I lock the door? But the door was still locked, and above Keith was–
"Keith, please tell me that you didn't scale the building and enter our room through the window."
Keith cast you an unimpressed look. "I didn't scale the building and enter our room through the window?" He frowned, gaze falling on the ruler you were still holding out like a knife. "Is that a ruler?" His eyes shot to your face, shooting you an accusatory glance. "Were you going to hit me with a ruler?"
"I thought you were a burglar!" you defended yourself, feeling your cheeks go red. "You know what, I should hit you with this ruler. You gave me a fucking heart attack."
Keith sighed and pushed himself up. He flinched, a hand pressing to his still-sensitive ribs. Though it had been several weeks since the fight, they still hurt sometimes, as did his hip. Obviously, scaling a two storey building didn't particularly help that. Normally, you would have helped him out, but right now you felt like he deserved the pain. You spun on your heel and stalked back to your room.
"Y/N, wait," Keith said weakly from behind you. You gave him the finger. You plopped onto your bed and crossed your arms, glaring at Keith with an icy stare and an arched eyebrow.
"I'm waiting," you informed him. Keith gave you a sarcastic nod and stood in the doorway, awkwardly patting his jeans to rid them of any dirt. He was fidgeting, you noticed, and he wouldn't look you in the eye. A beat of silence passed.
"Forgot my keys," Keith finally said, gaze firmly fixated on his hands. Your eyebrow disappeared even further towards your eyebrow.
"And you couldn't call me? Knock on the goddamn door? We have one of those, you know."
"I didn't want to wake you up," he said. He leant on the doorframe, tightly crossing his arms. His cheeks were tinted red. He was blushing, you realised. Keith Kogane was blushing. Then again, it was one A.M. and you had just caught him trying to sneak back into your room through the window.
"You know you could have woken me up. I wouldn't have minded."
"Sorry," he said sheepishly.
You sighed, lowering your head into your hands. "You literally just recovered from bruised ribs and a concussion, Keith. What were you thinking?"
"I was feeling fine! I am feeling fine. It's not the first time I've done this, you know."
Your head shot up and you glowered at Keith, whose eyes widened as he realised his mistake. "Wait, no, Y/N–"
"What?" you hissed, slowly rising up and stepping towards Keith, who held up his hands in surrender and took a step back.
"I know what I'm doing, okay? I swear I'm careful–"
"Considering you bruised your ribs and your hip two weeks ago I would beg to differ," you scoffed, running a hand through your hair and poking Keith in the chest. "When did you start doing this?"
Keith rubbed the back of his neck and gave an embarrassed chuckle. "It was a dare. Just Pidge, Lance and me dicking around in the parks, playing a stupid game of spin the bottle. We didn't plan it or anything."
"That's supposed to make me feel better? The fact that you've spontaneously decided that doors aren't challenging enough for you anymore?" You planted a hand on your hip, trying to keep your face stern, but at the sight of Keith's almost pleading face you had to hold back your laughter.
"Spontaneity is good for the soul?" It sounded like a question, and you couldn't hold back your giggles anymore as you slumped forward and rested your head on Keith's torso. He tensed slightly underneath your touch, but you were too tired to process it and you discarded the thought as soon as it came to you.
"You're gonna be the death of me, Keith Kogane," you mumbled into his shirt, voice muffled by the fabric. Keith took a deep breath, hesitantly resting his chin on top of your head. You closed your eyes as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you only slightly closer to him. This wasn't the first time you'd hugged, but somehow this time felt different. You blamed the fact that your heart was suddenly beating a lot faster on the fatigue.
"Y/N," Keith started softly, running his hands up and down your back. His featherlight touches made you shiver, and you were pretty sure that your cheeks were bright red. You snapped your eyes open as you realised that maybe, just maybe, you weren't just tired. You hummed, not entirely trusting yourself to speak.
Keith cleared his throat. "Two weeks ago, the fight–I just realised I never told you what it was about." You raised your head to look him in the eye. He had indeed never told you, but you knew anyway. But you wanted to hear it from him, and that was why you kept your mouth shut and held Keith's gaze. You wanted to know if he was actually going to tell you.
"The sophomore guys–they were talking about–well, they were talking about you," he said. His grip tightened just a fraction, but the protective gesture was enough to send a shiver up your spine.
"What did they say?" you asked, even though you had a pretty clear idea of what exactly the men had been saying. Keith sighed, unwrapping his arms from around you to run a hand through his hair, leaving tufts of his raven locks sticking up in every direction. You had to fight the urge to smooth them down.
"General asshole talk. But that's not the point, Y/N, it's how I reacted. I lost control and I'm sorry."
You reached up and brushed some of his hair aside so you could properly look into his eyes. They shone their usual violet colour, and they held a tenderness that made your knees weak. "You don't have to be sorry. You might make me worry to death if you continue like this," you said with a laugh, absent-mindedly tracing your fingers over Keith's cheek, "but you don't have to be sorry."
A deep blush reddened Keith's face, and you realised that your hand still cupped his cheek. A lazy smile pulled at your lips and you cocked your head, pretending not to notice the sharp breath he sucked in through his teeth. His hands twitched at his sides, as if he desperately wanted to lay them on your hips, but was too scared to do so.
"Can I kiss–"
You grabbed Keith's face and pulled him down, pressing his lips to yours. A happy sigh left his mouth at the contact, and the way he leaned into you while simultaneously wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him had your head spinning. Your other hand came up to rest on the back of Keith's head, your thumb brushing over the nape of his neck and your fingers burying themselves in his hair.
You felt like you were going to burst. You pushed yourself up on the tips of your toes, already craving the feeling of his lips on yours before you'd even stopped. Your head was a flurry of thoughts zipping by, a blur of memories you hadn't deemed important before, but now...
One of the memories was of you and Keith sitting underneath a tree, revising for one of your many tests. As you rattled off answer after answer, Keith looked up and grinned at you, a fond look on his face you hadn't seen before. Your heart did a little leap in your chest, and you wondered now how you hadn't noticed before how much you had wanted to kiss him.
Now you pulled away just enough to look Keith in the eyes. His pupils were blown, his lips plump from kissing. His entire face was red, and a giggle left your lips as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder, his nose brushing against your neck. He mumbled something into your shoulder and you pinched his side.
"What was that?"
"You have no idea for how long I've wanted to do that," he said, tightening his grip around you as if he was afraid of what would happen if he let go. You smiled, gently running your fingers through his hair.
"Did it go the way you'd imagined?"
Keith chuckled, trailing his lips up and down your collarbone, pressing featherlight kisses to the exposed skin. You had to struggle to keep your breathing level. "It certainly was... spontaneous." He straightened and kissed you again, ever so gently. If he kept going on like this, your weak heart probably would never recover.
When you finally broke apart, you pressed your forehead to his, gazing into his violet eyes. "They say it's good for the soul."
#voltron fic#vld fic#voltron#voltron legendary defender#voltron x reader#vld x reader#keith x reader#voltron keith x reader#voltron keith kogane#vld keith x reader#vld keith kogane#keith voltron#keith vld#shiro voltron#vld shiro#voltron takashi shirogane
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Commission for @alt-hammer of a Karkat/Terezi/Nepeta polyamory romance set on an AU where the trolls live on Earth and, after a year away, have returned to Karkat for a sleepover whle moving into his place and got STACKED
----
The photo lurked in a crowd of other pictures, of varying sizes; some were pretty much the same size as it, and others were a lot bigger. Still others towered over it like a very sweet tiger over a kitten, making the little photo look ridiculously tiny.
There was probably a pretty good metaphor in that, wagered Karkat Vantas.
The photo he was staring at was the absolute oldest one, taken by the Parent Trio themselves; he, Nepeta and Terezi had barely been more than larval wrigglers there, hardly popped out of their cocoons and still poking at the humans for the exotic thrill of it. He was a bit stunned by how small Nepeta and Terezi were in this one; they were barely any taller than him, Nepeta wiry, Terezi very stout, and with Karkat’s more feminine build, and the way they had always been sat Vantas-Leijon-Pyrope, there was also a sliding scale of ‘round to pointy’ horn shape. A bit inverted for body shape, but whatever.
He followed the trail of photos taken over the years. They always sat in the same way, but always kind of teasing; Nepeta bonking Karkat with her horns while Terezi had him in a headlock, for example, back when they were in middle school with their human friends. The photo passed; so did the years, and there was a common theme there. Terezi and Nepeta got bigger, and Karkat did not; circa the college years, he was sitting upon their thighs just to be in frame with them, and their large bustlines pressing into his back in a way that was very distracting and they were totally doing on purpose.
He tried not to crack a grin at the memory.
Finally he looked down at the photo in his hands, taken just that morning to celebrate Nepeta and Terezi moving in after a year away from home, establishing their careers and incidentally hitting their full adult growth, and taking their respective careers of intrepid zoologist and internal affairs agent by storm. He’d been living a pretty ordinary life, by all accounts, in technical assistance calls. Even before they left for that fateful year, and they had to continue their relationship mainly via video calls, he wondered why they stuck with him.
(‘It’s nice to come home and know it’ll always be there, nice and safe,” Terezi had said once, before kissing him on the cheek. Usually that was for teasing, but he supposed this time it meant something special.)
Karkat selected a special place of honor for the photo and placed it where it would loom over all the others, like the girls did to him. Right behind the other photos, plainly visible and the new glass still shiny on it.
On the photo, Karkat was doing his best to look stern and serious; hard to do, sitting on a chair that made you look tiny, just to get into frame. The two women were next to him, sitting in a way that accidentally (and he had doubts about it being an accident) pressed their door-breaking hips right into him; both their hips had to be almost wider than he was tall! They were a lot bigger than him, more than twice his size, and while he was small for a troll, he was still bigger than a human; they would have towered over any of the beings native to their adopted world, and even over other trolls.
In the photo, he looked kind of stunned. Kind of funny, looking it at from this angle, but he still remembered the weight of them pressing against him from both his sides and above; the sense of mass like their personal space included him too, how their bustlines had grown so large he couldn’t look them in the face if he got too close. That his horns were about level with their waists. They were just so damn big.
Their hugs were a lot more fun, though.
Nepeta, in the photo, was grinning; her thick lips framed an open smile as she hugged Karkat with one wiry arm. Shaped rather like an hourglass (huge boobs, small waist, huge hips, all corded with muscle), she was at least nine feet tall, her breasts bigger than her head and filling out the lab safe gear she was wearing. She’d still just come off her shift at the biology labs for this photo. A long tail, covered in the same thick and fluffy proto-fur as the cropped hair hanging over her face, curled around both Karkat and Terezi.
Oh boy. Terezi; he blushed at the memory. She looked too big to even fit into the frame, a big and… motherly looking troll, like a personification of the very idea of the Hot Mom everyone had a crush on. Big all over; massive boobs, a soft and plump gut hanging over her belt line, absolutely massive hips, huge thighs wider than Karkat’s whole body, and she was even taller than Nepeta to boot, at least a full head-and-shoulders more. Even sitting down, cackling up a storm and doing the neat trick of giving Karkat noogies but being a sweetie about it, she emanated a weird charisma. The tightly pressed and professional business suit of a lawyer she wore (the cleavage cut low, not because she wanted to but her boobs were just so big that low cuts popped in) seemed incongruous.
Appearances were deceptive. Terezi Pyrope and Nepeta Leijon were by far some of the most skilled, competent and smart people in the whole world, and he was still a little offended on their behalf that they wanted to spend their lives with him.
He knew them well; Karkat had been dating the two of them ever since high school; technically middle school, if you believed their parent’s interpretation of things. Multi-person relationships were not so uncommon these days, especially among trolls, and definitely after the discory of ancient troll artifacts depicting cultural touchstones of their unknown homeworld from before they had ever come to Earth; the translated notions of pansexual relationships based on different sorts of interpersonal dynamics had been an interesting one, and the discovery of it had put Aradia’s mom, Damara Sr., right in the spotlight.
She was a generous lady, bankrolling Terezi and Nepeta’s education like she had, and they had really gone places in but one year. To the law circuits, to the most prestigious laboratories in the world… and he’d been with them all the time, dating mostly by distance, over video call and e-mail, but they’d all been loyal to each other even as fame seekers came calling to earn their favors.
‘Terezi and Nep have got weird taste,’ Karkat concluded. Those two women had turned down some big stars, sticking with him. He was just the guy who kept the house for them to come home to, or so he’d thought of himself.
There was a soft motion from behind him, a sense of air being moved, and he didn’t even have to look around to know that Nepeta was standing nearby now, her tail swishing gently. He turned to face her and instantly blushed, staring back at the ground.
Nepeta’s boobs… were so… BIG. Where was her face at!? Where am I supposed to look… oh damn, that is BIG… don’t look, don’t look! BE A GENTLEMAN, YOU DENSE VAGABOND.
“Aw,” Nepeta cooed, perfectly aware of what he was thinking, and she moved over to him, bouncing enthusiastically all the while. “Come here!” She scooped him into a hug; he squeaked as he was lifted off the ground, against a much cooler body and then a lot of softness that he sank into, like a big and slightly sloshy bed. He nearly vanished into her cleavage as she hugged him, purring rumbling all around him.
And then, she kissed him on the forehead, holding him up higher to do that.
She put him down. Karkat wobbled faintly. “Are you going to keep doing that every time you see me now…?” He said weakly.
Nepeta nodded firmly. “I have to make up for lost time. I haven’t been around you for too long! Me and Terezi promised!”
Karkat felt his heart skip several beats at the thought. He felt warm and fuzzy, thinking about it. He was just a solid romantic.
But, to buisness. “Okay, we got everything ready for our official first night together as a… uh. Proper romance trio?”
Nepeta frowned. “I don’t know.” She turned her head and yelled, “TEREZI!”
“WHAT?!” Another voice bellowed from elsewhere.
“DO WE HAVE ALL THE STUFF WE NEED!?”
“I DUNNO! BRING IT HERE! MIGHT AS WELL GET EVERYTHING READY!”
Karkat nodded with a grim purpose totally inappropriate to the situation. “IT WILL BE DONE!”
“COOL, THANKS!” Terezi said. “I’LL BE DOWN, GIMME A SECOND!”
“WAIT, YOU DON’T NEED TO-” There was a loud stomping noise, as if of stars taking a very curvaceous weight they were not built for. Karkat groaned. “Never mind…”
Nepeta’s mouth worked, calculating the damages likely to ensue. As she did, her horns gouged right into the ceiling; she was just too tall for it otherwise. “Oops…!”
“Never mind! Gotta renovate this place anyhow.”
“I’m sorry!” Nepeta said anyway. “I don’t want to ruin your house! Our house! Um. Sorry!”
“...Eh. Place has been empty for a while; it’s mostly just been me here.” He froze up. He had talked about a lot of things to Nepeta and Terezi since they left and he’d stayed behind, but he’d never quite found a way to put into words the numbing sense of isolation.
He had missed Nepeta’s bone-crushing hugs, the way Terezi threw an arm around his shoulder and crushed his body to her own ithat wasn’t quite bullying. He missed their voices on the air, the sound of them singing off-key to drown out an especially annoying commercial.
(“Come on!” they’d yelled, years ago, when they had been small; Karkat had been slightly smaller, but they had been just as tiny as him, three rambunctious gremlins, their horns like a sliding scale of round to pointy.
He’d wandered over, grumpy and pouting, but he bellowed louder than either of them, and they picked up the song with him, discordant and screeching until Dad Vantas came down and promptly joined. Then he headbutted the TV and dared the kids to do the same.
He still remembered how cool Terezi and Nepeta’s hands felt on his hot blooded arms.)
“Having to get repairs done is totally worth have you guys here, full time,” he said, straying back into his usual persona.
Nepeta gave him a very knowing look that calmly indicated she wasn’t buying into his deceptions, and she smiled. “Sorry anyway. Look… I got some meat pies for us earlier. Let’s bring them up.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Karkat dropped to all fours and galloped into the kitchen, the bulk of Nepeta right behind him. She paused at the entrance and he gamely ignored the severely wrecked doorframe and the spaces that had apparently been carved out for some distinctly curvy frames much too large to fit into a Vantas-sized doorway. He walked past a trailer of crumbled plaster and glanced up to the ceiling. There was an impact point, as if of an unwary head boink-ing into the ceiling, and two wavering tears right into it, apparently scooped right out with easy force, and they went all the way to the table… and another pair going back out. They were pretty wide and, he was sure, a perfect match for Nepeta’s slightly concave horns.
He pretended it wasn’t there. No reason to make her sad.
Even so, he went to the closet and got out a little cleaning robot he’d gotten Dave to design into a crab-like shape. It swore in a very creative mash of randomized pretentious insults and obscure slang; that would have been Sollux’s part of the gift. He sent it to clean up the mess and went to get the pies.
He tried, at least. The table was built to his specifications (a little bigger than an average human, but smaller than most trolls), but the specially woven basket was almost wider around than the tables entire diameter. Filled to the brim with enormous pies that had to weigh a couple dozen pounds each, stuffed with juicy meats and savory sauces, each one nearly as big across as Karkat’s torso and promised to feed an entire family for a week. They’d probably make mouthfuls for Nepeta and Terezi, though.
“This is just a few pies, huh!?” He said, grumpily.
Nepeta grinne and patted one huge hip. “A growing girl needs lots of food to build up!”
“That’s the excuse you’re going for?”
“Yep!”
There was a loud stomping behind him, at the newly expanded doorway to the kitchen. It was both an announcement, declaration of intent to enter, and lurking beneath that, a quieter invitation.
It was a very layered noise, but that was just Terezi Pyrope all over.
Karkat turned and looked up, and up, and up some more, at an absolutely enormous teal-blood troll woman. He’d been vaguely aware that the two loves of his life had kept growing when he had just sort of petered out, and that puberty was a gift for them that never stopped giving, but it had been one thing to get a vague idea of on video call. It was totally different to see their full enormity in person.
Terezi didn’t so much move as swagger, and her hips suited a motion like that; they were so wide, testaments to absurd fertility, that she couldn’t even fit them into the doorway, and she was too tall to fit anyway. She ducked down, swinging one hip in and then the other in a surprisingly quick jerk. Her breasts heaved, pinching against the doorway, just too big to fit through so they were pushed together, as if by a rather mean-spirited push up bra. Terezi grunted with effort, heaving and struggling, her broad shoulders flexing…
Nepeta winced, covering her ears in expectation of an architectural problem. Karkat avoided further stress and just blurted out, “Oh, hell with it, just smash through!”
Terezi did so. A lot of plaster rained down, and a bit of framework crumbled around her waist as she stood up, and bonked her head into the ceiling just like Nepeta apparently had earlier. “Ow!” She ducked down again, too tall for this room. “Stupid low ceilings…” Karkat grimaced at her, and Terezi verbally backpedaled. “Uh, it’s a good low ceiling though… yeah. Your ancestors should be proud. ...I think?”
“Damn right!” Karkat retorted, mostly on reflex. It was a family joke that the house had been in the Vantas bloodline, in its various permutations, ever since trollkind had first come to Earth from wherever it was they’d originally come from. The archaeological evidence that pinned the earliest trolls at beng at least around six thousand years on Earth made the claim of owning this spit of land extremely unlikely, since at that point Karkat’s most distant ancestors had probably been crawling around central Asia with the semetic branch of humanity they would eventually be considered blood-brothers to, several continents away from this house.
It could be very hard to tell the difference between a running Vantas joke and a logical impossibility the family had nonetheless wired into their brains. Certainly Karkat’s father, Kankri, thought it was important to keep the joke going with a totally straight face.
Terezi grinned, but given how huge her boobs were, it was really hard to tell; they looked almost bigger than Karkat’s whole upper body, and projected out from Terezi’s torso like a cliff face, her t-shirt hanging loose from their contours. Her face, gorgeous as it was, had become a rare sight for him.
Terezi seemed to fill the entire kitchen, even though she wasn’t that big. She was too tall to comfortably walk into a human-sized room, and too wide (and too curvy, and too busty) to deal with ordinary doorways without breaking them, but the fact that she was probably around ten feet or so tall didn’t account for the sheer weight her presence had.
Terezi was charismatic; she could have been a leader of humans and trolls alike, and he’d eagerly followed the news accounts of her terrorizing corrupt court rooms and bureaucracies into shape. The terror of bribe-bought officials and authorities too eager to employ force or keep people controlled, Terezi came and swept the landscape like a dragon in a fantasy story, leaving behind ashes that she grew into a much better organization.
She put a hand on his shoulder, and leaned down enough so that her face was on level with his. Her thick lips brushed wetly against his mouth. “C’mon,” she murmured. “Let me gimme a hand.”
“Both of us!” Nepeta chided her. “We’re all in this, all three of us!”
“Yeah, that too.” Both women placed a hand on Karkat’s shoulders and gave him a pleasant squeezy touch. He almost fainted; after so many years of barely being in their presence, he was being spoiled terribly by them!
Terezi stood up, and lifted up the basket without any real sign of effort. Her arms were bulky, soft, and had no real definition, but he had felt her arms, and the muscles there put bridge cables to shame. He contemplated faking a swoon just so he could fall into her arms, but decided against it. She’d probably let him drop and then she would pick him up and tease him so bad.
Terezi winked at him. “Let’s get going,” she said, and stifled an odd sensation, as if of a little surge building up. Nepeta felt it too, but it was so minor, neither of them thought to say anything.
They did feel very hungry, though.
-----
Several hours passed as they got everything ready.
At last Karkat sat down on what was, to him, a mattress so thick and heavy that it could double as a very gradual bounce house. To Nepeta and Terezi, it was a comfortably thick mattress, sized up for their particularly sizes. It was stable enough, and steady enough, to support a little blanket, and all the food and drinks they wanted on a nearby tray. Approximately a dozen kegs worth of different fizzy drinks, bowls of snacks and tasty treats that Karkat could have slept inside.
The room was large, the ceiling newly renovated for the two ladies to actually be able to stand up in. Nepeta sat up and waved her arms excitedly, stretching her claws out. Terezi lounged on a small pile of blankets, rolling around and cooing. “Someone get a movie queued up,” she mumbled. “I’m feeling it~!”
Karkat, dwarfed by the two giant women, sat in their shadow and he examined a little agenda clipboard. He rifled through it. Food? Check. Drinking things? Check? Terezi and Nepeta? Very check. Karkat? HE poked himself, felt quite real, and he checked that off too.
Terezi rolled her eyes; presumably; she had been blind since birth. She left him too it and swallowed a meat pie whole, frowning at the rumbling in her belly. “Geez, I’m starving.”
“Me too!” Nepeta outdid her, gulping down two extremely large sandwiches at once, her jaws stretching to fit them in.
Karkat didn’t pay much attention to them begin to gorge, or their puzzled comments on why there were suddenly so hungry, and if he had he might have put two and two together. As it was, he selected a queue of movies for them to watch, all things they had seen together in the past as a kind of tribute to the good old days, and celebrating the new ones to come.
When he was done, Terezi and Nepeta were sitting upright, their guts rumbling very loudly. “Uh,” he said. “You two all right?”
Nepeta winced. “My tummy kinda hurts. And my boobs!” She gestured towards her heavy bustline. “It’s itchy!”
“Me too,” Terezi said. “This feels familiar.”
Nepeta nodded. “Yeah! I… oh. Oooohhh.”
Trolls have growth spurts. It was a biological thing. They usually grew gradually, but sometimes, a growth spurt hit all at once. It needed a lot of nutrition to fuel the growth, but once it hit, it was intense.
And intense it was; though it took not much more than about half a minute of furious biological activity, it seemed longer, and Karkat saw it for the first time in person. Terezi and Nepeta’s growth spurts had been big, he knew the results, but it didn’t prepare him for the sight of their overhanging t-shirts straining as their breasts abruptly swelled bigger, dozens of pounds of flesh growing on the spot!
“Eep!” Nepeta squeaked, trying to cup herself and failing. A few seamlines popped as her cleavage dove, the suddenly constraining fabric forcing a lot of new breast-flesh upwards. Her boy shorts creaked as well, in a way indicated her thighs had swelled so much the sides were touching even now, and her butt growing so much her shorts looked like a thong from the back!
Terezi sat back speculatively as her body grew in the same way as Nepeta’s, perhaps a bit more dramatically with how much larger she already was. Her boobs appeared to double in size! Already bigger than her head and upper torso, they expanded with some audible milky noises to be large enough to overflow right into Terezi’s lap, over her thighs, and even right onto the bed. Perfectly round, fabric creaking and t-shirt peeling away from all but the most awkward of her contours, so much boob that it was being pushed upwards into two hills of cleavage, rising higher than her eyes.
And she, and Nepeta, were still growing.
Eventually it petered off, with one particularly dramatic flounce from Terezi. She doubled over, nearly flopping right onto Karkat boob-first, nailing him underneath her. He sank into her new assets, and made an adorable squeaking noise.
“Oh, wow… this is a, a lot!” Nepeta said, examining herself. She turned to Karkat. “Are you okay!?”
“Yes,” Karkat said, ratherly muffled from all that Terezi on him.
Terezi leaned up and fell back down again, her increasingly gargantuan backside wobbling heavily in her pajama pants. They looked more like leggings now, though. “I’m okay, I’m fine! Just gimme a WHOA!” She overbalanced and flopped over, again, but this time NEpeta dove forward and pulled Karkat out of the splash zone.
Terezi did a thumbs up. “Nice work… ooh, this is gonna be an adjustment.”
“That was on purpose, wasn’t it,” Karkat said weakly, his body still tingling.
“The growth?” Terezi replied. “No. Landing on you?” She turned from her faceful of boob, grinning. “Maaay-be!”
Nepeta hugged him, and he fit very snugly into her expanded cleavage. It had to be going from her collar all the way to her ribs! Not as huge as Terezi’s upper body not being totally concealed, but still, that was big. Karkat sank in, and was quite content with that. “See? I told you we needed the nutrition!”
“Hmph!” He squeaked. “Let me go…!”
“Nuh uh. Make up for lost time, remember?”
Terezi snuggled over, with some difficulty; her new bust size was throwing off her balance too much. But she locked up with Nepeta, Karkat neatly pinned between them, and Terezi first kissed Nepeta between the horns, and then Karkat, her breasts pushing against Nepeta’s so that Karkat was lost in a world of giant girlfriend boobs.
“You’re sneaky,” he managed to say, too dazed to be more clever.
Both girls giggled as a movie started to play, and they hugged each other and their tiny boyfriend more enthusiastically.
#/#//#///#////#/////#commissions#my writing#fics#alt hammer#twitchy!homestuck#twitchy!terezi#twitchy!nepeta#twitchy!karkat#queued
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Klance Au Month - Day 1 - Coffee Shops
This was not supposed to be so long. And I can in no way guarantee I will do prompts everyday, but I definitely want to do some! (rip my other fics)
Lance from Astro:
Keith gets soaked when he goes out for a run in the rain so hits up a coffee shop for shelter. Here he finds a boy claiming to know him and a barista who wants nothing more than for him, and his dripping wet self, to leave. When Keith realises he has no money, the stranger steps in...
Also available on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626292
Keith had always been impulsive. As a kid that meant punching the little shit who decided to steal his crayon. As a teenager, it was skipping classes when there was something far more interesting happening across town. And as a student, it was going out as soon as he even glimpsed the sun’s rays peeking out between the sheets of grey cloud. Yeah, Keith had calmed down a lot in his old age. Or maybe he’d just learnt to deal with the frequently irritating occurrences of daily life better. That’s what Shiro would say, patting Keith on the back whilst wearing that well-practiced big brother smile that said ‘I’m proud of you,’ that Keith read as ‘please punch me’.
Shiro had introduced Keith to running. At the time, Keith hadn’t been to class in three weeks. Just moped about the house all day like a lonely vampire. But the sun had been shining and Shiro along with it. He’d dragged Keith off the couch and shoved him into some running shoes. Five years later, here Keith was, shorts on, headphones in, hair up. And the sun was shining gloriously for a cool February morning.
That was, when he left.
Now it was pouring like they’d suffered a monthlong a draught. They hadn’t. It had been raining on and off for two weeks now, and every day had been more miserable than the first. So, when Keith spotted the golden rays in the morning, you’d think he’d realise that it would be brief. That objects in motion, stay in motion. Nope. Keith ran out all guns blazing. And now, he was currently dripping wet as if he’d dived into the deep end of the pool, clothes and all.
His feet squelched in his trainers, and every foot fall blasted muddy water up his calves. His skin was covered in a thin membrane of sweat, rain and dirt and his clothes chafed with every slight movement. He huffed down the path, river on his right, houses on his left. He was exactly halfway around his usual route and this seemed to only encourage the storm, wind picking up and sweeping cold tendrils between the now permanent creases off his shirt.
Panting along the path, he finally got out onto the concrete of the quay. Usually it was bustling with tourists and locals alike. Boats lined the canal, rusted tractors lay abandoned above them, kids rolled around the grass and parents yelled at them to keep away from the edge. One day, Keith hoped to see one fall in. Trying not to laugh at the thought, he powered into the main hub. Outdoor seating lay around untouched, shop doors were pulled shut against yellow light and not a soul was in sight on the roads. Keith was weaving around bollards, slowing his pace to avoid slipping on the cobbles, when something caught his eye.
A door swung shut, light bouncing off the shining window. Just beyond, a figure hugged a trench coat tight to their body and slipped away into the silver stripes. Keith looked at the building. It was a modest one, coloured a pale blue with flaking paint and flower boxes full of drooping flowers. White plastic chairs were propped forward against similar tables, water collecting in pools across the surface. The window was steamed up, and the streaks warping the glass were painted with licks of orange from the indoor lights. It looked warm, and the rush of air from the door had the smell of coffee winding up Keith’s nose like smoke. Maybe he could afford to wait out the rain inside?
Keith swung into the café and was immediately assaulted with heat. He shivered on instinct, dragging his feet against the welcome mat as he looked around the room. It was small. White tables and colourful chairs cluttered the space. The counter was painted bright turquoise and held large glass domes filled with pretty pastry’s and delicate cakes. Beyond it was a loud machine, standing sturdy like a bodyguard and squirting out drinks with high-pitched screeches and hisses. Lining the window was a honey coloured table, with tall metal stools standing bright red against it. Keith made a beeline for them, swiping a hand across his face and shaking out his hair. Removing his head phones, he dropped them down on the bench and dug his phone out of his soaked shorts. That can’t have been good for it.
“Sir, you’re dripping.”
Keith jumped at being addressed. Behind him, a thin man glared at him with piercing eyes. Blond hair was sleeked back against his head so tightly that Keith could see every undulation of his scalp. Undulation being a bit of an overstatement to say it was more like his head was perfectly round and there were precisely zero dips in which to undulate with. Everything about him was startling perfect now Keith thought about it. Well-kept nails, creaseless uniform, apron free of any kind of stain.
“Oh, I, uh…” Keith looked down to find a puddle forming. Oops?
The man made a noise. All nose and disregard. Keith watched him raise a single, well-plucked eyebrow before leaving. Keith shuddered. Maybe this was the wrong place to dry off?
He placed his phone on the table and grabbed a few napkins from a pot nearby. Drying off as best he could he sat down.
“Keith?”
He turned to the voice. Behind him, on one of the small square tables, was a boy. He had curly brown hair stuffed under a wooly hat, tanned skin stretched over pointy features and curious blue eyes that narrowed their way towards Keith. Leaning forward, he tilted his head at Keith and pursed his lips. Then they were suddenly splitting into a wide curve and Keith realised it was his turn to speak. He instinctively opened his mouth, waiting to say a name, but it never arrived. He realised too late he had no idea who this person was. He clapped his mouth shut again, dread filling his stomach. The boy seemed about Keith’s age, and did know his name. All evidence pointed to them being at least passing acquaintances. But Keith couldn’t place him anywhere. So, he did the normal thing and just stared.
“It’s me, Lance.” The boy said, raising his eyebrows. Keith continued to stare.
“From astro?”
Astro? Astronomy? Keith took the astronomy module. It was his favourite in fact. He loved stars and the mysterious objects space tried to hide from Earth. He never missed a class. And this person? He took it too? Keith brought the lecture theatre up to the forefront of his mind. Keith liked to sit at the front, near the edge - no-one to block his view and easy to make a quick exit. People rarely sat near him, and to be fair, people rarely turned up to lectures these days. How was Keith supposed to recall him?
“I’m in your tutorial class.”
Ah. The vision changed to a small classroom, whiteboard at the front with a permanent dent in the middle that gathered various conspiracy theories. The course leader, a shrewd rat-like woman with thin rimmed glasses, stood at the front writing equations. There was the guy who only showed up the first day and never again. The girl who always did her make-up before the start – oddly, without a mirror. The two guys who always arrived late. That first day when one of them turned and introduced himself to Keith. Oh. The blob cleared into what resembled a human before it blurred together with reality. Lance. From astro.
“There.” The guy sighed, “nice of you to remember me.”
Keith shrugged. He was beyond politeness these days. It’s not like they’d spoken more than that one time on the first day. Why would Keith remember him? Just as he settled himself back in his seat, Lance was talking again.
“How come you were out running in this?”
Keith let out a growl, “well it wasn’t like this when I left.”
The boy snickered behind him and Keith found himself turning toward the noise despite himself. Lance’s nose was wrinkled with the effort, eyes crinkling at the sides as he hid it in the table.
“Fair.” He said, “guess some of us would check the forecast first though.”
Keith rolled his eyes, “like you can’t just look out the window.”
The words were more for himself than anyone else, he wasn’t planning on starting a conversation, hadn’t planned to see anyone he knew. So, he was already looking back at the rain dripping down the glass when Lance snorted.
“Sorry, sorry,” he mused when Keith regarded him again. He shook his head, trying to hide his smile behind a hand, “you’re just- not what I expected.”
“Excuse me?”
Expected? What was Lance doing getting expectations of him? They just met.
“No, no! I didn’t mean, like not in a bad way. I just…”
He bit his lip, face the faintest tint of red. Keith found it irritating. People always made some kind of assumption when they met him. He used to play to it – if people thought he was a bad kid then he was going to be a bad kid. He remembered Shiro’s sigh, the lines in his brow that were verging on permanent, the sadness in his voice when he said ‘why is this the one thing you won’t rebel against?’ It stuck with Keith. It was such a strange thing to say. Keith always misbehaved. He refused to be told how to be - where to sit in the dinner hall, how to dress properly to impress foster parents, when to smile even when you didn’t mean it. He rebelled against everything.
And that’s when he realised what Shiro meant. People were always telling him he was no good. They didn’t even know him, and yet he was labelled a ‘difficult’ child. Not a kid for ‘first timers’. He would struggle through school, make trouble in the workplace and never amount to anything. But that wasn’t true. Keith was smart. He believed in rules – when they were fair. And he knew that smiling didn’t make you okay, just fooled other people into thinking you were. Shiro made a damn good point. Keith was just toeing the line. So, he quit lying. And
did what he wanted. Like a true rebel, he went to class, studied hard, smiled at Shiro’s lame jokes and let the words of others run off his back like water.
But above all, he refused to acknowledge anyone who paid him, or anyone else, that treatment. Which now meant Lance. He turned to the window.
“I meant I thought you were smart!”
And now he thought Keith was dumb?
“No wait! That didn’t come out right! I meant…”
Lance sounded kind of desperate. Shame. Keith wasn’t going to turn around. He sighed, flicking a menu over on the table.
“Sorry.”
It was the tiniest noise. More like a whimper. It didn’t really match the rest of their conversation. Keith dared a glance back. Lance was frowning down at his notebook, eyebrows in a furrow like he was cursing the thing. That was different. No-one ever used to apologise. Well, they never meant it. They never looked that upset about it, like it hurt them to hurt someone else. Keith opened his mouth to speak.
“You gonna order anything?”
Keith glanced up to find smooth head looming. He looked as if Keith was a grave inconvenience, a stain on his perfect coffee-shop world.
“If you don’t order anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Keith breathed through the irritation, squeezing his hands into fists. The waiter had a fair point, but he didn’t have to make it with such disdain. Keith was still a customer, he just hadn’t bought anything yet.
“Alright,” Keith mumbled, stepping up to reach into his back pocket. His hand slid against his ass, and then straight down to his thigh. Crap. These were his running shorts. He had no money.
Keith looked at the waiter. The waiter looked at Keith. Keith looked at the window. The rain threw itself against the glass like it was going to attack him. He shuddered.
“I’ll buy.”
Keith spun around. Lance was leaning against the back of his chair, fixing the waiter with a face dripping with raw, smug energy. His card sat between two slender fingers and he twirled it in the air.
The waiter sighed, clearly uncaring for the whole ordeal. Keith on the other hand, was still in shock.
“No, no, it’s alright.” He said firmly, gathering up his few belongings, “I’ll just go.”
“No.” Lance interrupted, “I’ll buy.”
His eyes were resolute, daring Keith to argue. Keith took the bait.
“No. I don’t want to owe you.”
“And you won’t.” Lance said lightly, following the waiter to the counter. “It’s an apology, for speaking with my foot in my mouth.”
He stopped to look up at the chalk board. Drinks were written in curly white lettering, with pastel coloured sketches drawn next to them.
“I’ll have a hot chocolate, please.”
Fingers clicked across the till.
“With marshmallows and cream?” The clerk asked in a bored voice.
Lance turned to face Keith then, elbows leaning back on the counter. He poured his gaze over Keith, right from his head down to his toes. Keith felt exposed, stomach swooping at the glint in Lance’s eye. Too busy fighting the heat spreading through his body, he didn’t get the chance to interrupt when Lance was speaking again.
“Oh yeah. Add extra sprinkles too, I want it extra festive.”
Keith let his mouth fall slack. Where the hell did he get that idea from? For one, Keith drank coffee. Black. And he didn’t do all the fancy stuff. He wanted a plain and simple drink and he did not want to draw attention. Lance on the other hand, drew all of Keith’s. He had a huge grin plastered across his face as he threw his head back laughing. Round-head rolled his eyes, dialling up the order and sparing Lance one of his disdainful glares.
“I’ll bring it to your table.”
“Thanks, Lotor!”
Then Lance was flouncing back to his seat and Keith was still standing next to his own chair. What had just happened?
“You didn’t need to apologise.” Keith rushed. Lance looked up at him, blankly. Then a smirk pulled against his lip.
“So, you already forgave me?”
“No?”
Had Keith forgiven him? He couldn’t really remember what he was apologising for now. The whole… event, had him a little bit lost.
“So, then you’ll need a drink.” Lance said solemnly.
“No, wait.”
Lance grinned. Keith struggled. With this conversation, with this person, this whole situation.
“Take a seat, Keith.”
The chair opposite Lance moved out on his own, like a ghost. Keith approached with caution. He did not sit, but Lance shifted when he arrived, that same grin plastered on his thin lips.
“Come on, sit with me.” He crowed, swaying side to side.
Keith eyed the seat cautiously.
“Look, I really didn’t mean to offend you.”
He was looking down at his book again, pen drawing absent circles in the margin of his work.
“I was hoping we could be friends.”
Keith sighed. He shouldn’t sit down, shouldn’t be indulging in this. But despite that fact, Keith flopped down. Lance perked up then, shoulders bouncing. But before he could speak, Keith interrupted him “I get it. You didn’t mean to offend me. But I still can’t accept your drink.”
Lance considered this for a second. “Okay. How about, in exchange for the drink, you help me with my astro coursework?”
He tapped his pen against his notebook and Keith saw that there was also a textbook lying open above it. There were several papers strewn across the table and pens hiding between layers. Lance himself had pen marks all over his fingers and grey loops below his eyes.
“Fine.”
That was enough for another one of those blinding grins. Lance seemed abundant with them.
“So, how come you recognised me?” Keith asked, wanting a distraction from the radiance.
Lance gave a little wiggle and Keith could tell he’d stepped on a landmine. With eyebrows bouncing he sent Keith a mischievous grin, ‘oh, I never forget a good-looking face.”
Keith nearly choked. Was he being flirted with right now? By a strange boy who shone too brightly for a coffee shop? A strange boy he in fact knew and had somehow missed in the however many weeks they’d been studying that course?
“Clearly I do.”
Lance’s brows froze in their strange hooks and Keith realised with striking alarm that he’d said that out loud. Oh god. Keith really was too well adjusted to life alone. Maybe he should listen to Shiro more and make some friends? Lance’s face was still frozen on his and Keith pulled at his shirt. Curse the heating in this place. He really shouldn’t have sat down. He glanced back to the window. Was rain really that bad?
“Hot chocolate.”
Keith jolted as a cup and saucer landed on the table with a loud clink. Liquid swished out the side as the tidal wave settled, swirl of cream sloshing above. A light dusting of cocoa covered the top, pink marshmallows cut into the shape of hearts thrown haphazardly across the drink. The waiter levelled them with a look.
“With extra festive.”
“Thank you so very much.” Lance said through a giggle. The waiter rolled his eyes, sweeping back to his post at the counter. Keith stared at the drink. Then he stared back up at Lance. The boy was just sparkling eyes above two hands that covered his entire face all the way up to his spiky nose. Keith shook his head fighting off a smirk. He picked up the drink, lifted it to his lips and stared right into Lance’s glistening eyes as he took a sip.
Lance snorted.
“Perfectly matches your aesthetic.”
Keith shrugged, now losing the fight against his lips. “I dunno, I think it’s a bit understated.”
“You’re right.’ Lance said, poking his pen into Keith’s face, ‘it’s just not enough. Shall I call Lotor back and get him to bring us some glitter.”
Keith shook his head. “I’m thinking sparklers.”
Lance burst out laughing. He was all teeth and no eyes and Keith found the noise buzzing in his chest too. He quickly swigged his drink before it could be set free. The taste wasn’t bad either, if he was being honest. Sweet and creamy, tickling his lip as he drank. He was quite content until, one of the marshmallows rolled off and hit him in the eye. Keith frowned, glanced up and saw Lance pretending to read his textbook whilst barely containing more giggles. Keith shook his head but couldn’t shake the warmth in his cheeks.
“So, I’m confused on Quasars.”
Keith frowned, putting down his drink.
“Who isn’t?” He said, shuffling around to get a look at what Lance was reading. After a moment of no more words, Keith looked up and found Lance staring.
“What?”
“Oh!” Lance whipped back around to his book, “It’s just, uh, it’s nice.”
“What?”
“Hearing you say that.”
“What, ‘who isn’t’?”
Lance nodded, still not meeting Keith’s eye.
“Yeah. Guess I thought I was the only one.”
Keith didn’t tend to speak to the people in his class. That’s how he didn’t know Lance. He just kept to himself. But that meant he was privy to his course mate’s conversations. Namely, that nearly every topic they’d covered since the start of term had at least somebody complaining. To Keith, it was a given that absolutely no-one truly knew what they were doing on their degree.
Lance wasn’t Keith though. Lance didn’t just talk to strangers, he went out of his way to make friends with them. Those kinds of people always eluded Keith. Shiro was the same – he took in Keith, and from their first meeting, Keith had been convinced he was some kind of next level angel. But whilst Shiro was adept at caring for others, Keith discovered over time he struggled letting other people look after him. It was something Keith hadn’t had much of an issue with – once someone was actually willing to do it, he liked being looked after. But not everyone was Keith. And just because they weren’t Keith, that didn’t make them perfect. Or evil. And with the words Lance just spoke, it occurred to Keith, that he might have misjudged him. The thought made his stomach twist in a guilt he immediately wanted to fix it.
“Trust me you’re not.” He said firmly. “Everyone struggles, you’re doing fine.”
Lance looked up at him then, lips parted as his pen fell to the paper in a dull thud. Keith immediately wanted to claw the words back. He should have thought more before speaking. They were far more intense out loud. Almost threateningly so. Keith scraped the barrel for some sort of distraction. Steer them away from his creepy intenseness. “Why-uh, why’d you think that?”
Lance’s stare held a second longer – a second that burned itself straight through Keith. Then he was reclaiming his pen and speaking again with a sigh, “my housemates. They just- they get it all, y’know? One lecture and they’re good to go.”
“I feel dead after half an hour.” Keith said honestly.
There were those who seemed to absorb everything, regurgitating hours later and sweeping through their exams. But Keith was not one of them. And even then, he had a suspicion he only saw what they wanted him to see – not the hours they studied the night before. Maybe even years– some people were that dedicated after all.
Lance let out a short laugh. ‘Me too. Alfor opens his mouth and I’m just dead.”
Keith snickered and soon they were discussing the ins and outs of all their lecturers. It was fun. Keith found talking to Shiro about his disdain for academics was like bouncing water balloons off a concrete wall. He was never impressed. Lance, on the other hand, became invested. His enthusiasm grew with his pitch, hands thrown around in fury as he recalled a particularly awful lecture that wouldn’t have been out of place playing in the back of a hearse. Keith had said as much and Lance had laughed so hard, he spat coffee everywhere. The waiter, Lotor, as Lance called him, was far from enthusiastic about their patronage. He wiped up the spill with a huff, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. As soon as he was gone, Lance fell apart laughing telling Keith about the time he put glue in Lotor’s hair at primary school and the other was yet to forgive him. Lance had zero regrets and Keith would probably commit the same crime now.
The more they talked the more Keith found himself watching Lance’s mouth. He noticed now, how animated it was. It could go from a small ‘o’ to a wide-open grin in a blink of an eye. His teeth were bright white, lined up like crooked little houses along his gums. Then there were his lips. They were pink and looked soft and every so often Lance ran his tongue along them. Keith wanted to do that too. The thought surprised him, and he quickly found somewhere else to look. He could blame the warm café for his reddening cheeks.
Keith hadn’t kept track of time, he hadn’t felt the need when he was happily filling the moment. That was until he heard the door chime and noticed they were the last guests in the café. Must have been a long moment.
Lotor appeared at Lance’s back, a looming vampire.
“Five minute ‘til closing.” He said curtly. Lance jumped at the proximity.
“Jesus,” he breathed, holding a hand to his heart, “does he even have footsteps?”
Keith shook his head, looking out the window. “Wheels for feet.”
Lance laughed beside him. It was a nice sound, loud without even trying. It was like it burst out from nowhere to set the room alight. The more Keith heard it, the more he wanted to hear it. He was stuck in a vicious cycle that he didn’t particularly want to leave.
“Which way you heading?” Lance asked, shuffling his belongings together. The rain was still trailing down the windows and the wind rattled the windows, demanding its next victim. Keith sighed, as he got to his feet.
“Penny Road.”
“Oh! I’m just by the roundabout!’
Maybe he didn’t have to leave quite yet?
“I, uh…” Lance continued, talking to the ground. He was rubbing his neck, now fully dressed in his navy blue rain coat and backpack swung over one shoulder. “I’ve got an umbrella.”
He looked up with a smile. A bashful one this time, with pink cheeks. Keith didn’t know what to make of it. The expression was so different to his previous ones. It made him want to lean forward and squish it. But that would be inappropriate, so Keith focused firmly on the words
“Good for you?”
Lance blinked at him, before a more familiar expression tucked himself against his cheeks, “I meant we could share it.”
“Oh.” Keith’s cheeks burned hotter than coals. He ducked his head before it could be seen and stepped towards the door. “Sure. I’d uh, I’d like that.”
Lance’s feet tapped along the wood until he was at his side again, grabbing a brightly coloured umbrella from the bucket by the door before swooshing it open. Keith grimaced as he was hit with cold air and icy blades.
“Might be a bit windy for that.”
Lance laughed, “nah, it’ll be fine when we’re away from the river.”
Lance was right. It was fine once they were walking along the streets lined with painted town houses. Keith couldn’t help noticing how snugly the two of them fitted beneath the bright fabric dome. He also couldn’t help noticing his urge to link his arm with Lance’s. He told himself it was to just to keep the heavy umbrella steady but that was a lie.
Not too much later they arrived at Keith’s door, startling red against the black and whites of the rest of the street. Keith felt a little smug about bagging this one. It was the best house, even with the cracks in its cobble stone path and the overgrown bushes lining the street and most of the garden. The rain had died down a little, pattering rhythmically against the umbrella like a tent and Keith lingered beside Lance. The peaks of the clouds above were dyed a deep orange where the sun was finally cutting through the grey as if giving its last cry of the day before it sunk down for bed.
“Well, this was a nice way to end a date.”
Keith felt his stomach jump, throwing the breath from his lungs. “Date?”
“Uhh, I mean…” Lance’s face was so bright it was matching Keith’s door. He blinked widely before looking at the ground and mouthing many words but saying very few. “It doesn’t have to be, I just uhh, I thought it would be nice, but I mean-“
“Well, in that case...”
Keith leant in close, right up to Lance’s freckles. He pressed a kiss to a flaming cheek, smiling at how it was warm like a mug of hot chocolate.
“See you in class.” He whispered, before peeking up at Lance’s face. It was red with fluster, blue eyes wide and gleaming as his mouth wobbled into something that resembled a smile. Keith returned the favour, before pulling the umbrella down and letting the rain ping off it. “Lance.”
#klance au month#klance#klance fluff#klance fic#coffee shop au#vld fanfic#my writing#my post#can you believe i'd never written a coffee shop au#who am i?
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Here’s a story I wrote about my oc Jackie and @miraculousgems‘ oc Cherami
It’s how they met and stuff!
Please don’t ship them they’re literally based off my friend and myself so that would be extremely uncomfortable and disrespectful. They’ll both find their own significant others eventually don’t worry.
Warning: I’m not a good writer and I never re-read this to check for mistakes
It was late in the afternoon: the sun was still shining through the leaves, but the sounds of nature had softened. Leaves crunched under Cherami’s boots as she walked down the trail leading her back to the town. Her hat bounced with every step, and her cloak swayed with the crisp breeze. She quietly hummed to herself, occasionally glancing behind her shoulder to check on her bag of recently purchased goods, which had been enchanted to float in the air and follow her. Cherami’s been practicing witchcraft her whole life, and enjoyed taking trips to a nearby village to buy herbs, gems, and other ingredients. The trail to the village was through a dense forest full of beautiful flowers, mushrooms, and other flora. Of course she has come across many animals like the common birds, squirrels, and frogs; however, there have been times where the witch has seen a porcupine, opossum, and even a few bears. After walking for 15 minutes, Cherami reached a pile of mossy rocks: the landmark reminding her to take the special shortcut. She leaned over and pulled a wand out of her right boot. Gripping her wand, she flicked her wrist to the left of the trail, where there was just forest. The leaves rustled and drifted to the side, creating a miniature pathway. She paused for a few seconds, scanning the area to make sure there weren’t spiders. Despite not seeing anything, Cherami still ran, squealing for the whole time, which was around 5 seconds. She hopped onto the real trail and put her hand on her hip to catch her breath. Fixing her hat, she put slid her wand back into her boot and continued following the original path. The sun was starting to leave the sky, and the light began escaping from the woods. Cherami quickened her pace so she could make it home before dark, and covered lots of ground before stumbling as she nearly stepped on a tiny mushroom on a rock.
“I can’t just….not take it.” She muttered as she crouched down. Looking closer, she realized that the mushroom was next to the rock, and that the rock wasn’t a rock. “Oh?” Her voice caused the creature to stir. Its little head popped up and turned to look at Cherami. It was a bat, and it was laying on the ground. “Hey, little guy, did you fall out of a tree?” The bat’s big ears twitched, shifting its wings. Cherami picked up a twig and used it to pet the bat and scratch behind its ears. She brought the stick over to its legs, lightly pressing it against the feet, which latched onto the twig. Slowly standing up, she lifted the stick, with the bat now hanging from it, to the nearest tree and gently put the bat onto a branch. Before continuing her trek home, she used the stick to pet its back again. She had only taken a few steps when the she heard sound of rustling branches behind her.
And a voice.
“Hey wait come back that felt nice.”
Cherami screamed, barely saving herself from falling onto the dirt trail. She whipped and nae-naed around and saw someone sitting on the branch where she had previously placed the bat. They had disheveled short dark brown hair, matching their torn up shirt and pants that were both full of holes. They were dirty and barefoot, like they haven’t bathed in a few weeks. They were pale and skinny, and had pointy ears. Their big, red eyes wouldn’t stay still, and could barely hold eye contact with Cherami. It was like they were trying to absorb every detail, but couldn’t focus on anything long enough.
“Can you not!?” Cherami panted as she tried to calm her heart pounding in her chest. Her gaze lingered on the person’s eyes, the redness of the irises made her feel unsettled. She snatched her wand and grabbed her basket, just in case she needed to run or fight.
“O-Oh, yeah, um….sorry?” They were swinging their legs and picking at one of the holes in their shirt. “I haven’t really seen that many people lately. It’s just been a while since I’ve, um….. talked to someone.” They looked up and shifted their weight, and started messing with the tree bark.
They sure do move a lot, Cherami though before asking: “Okay, so who are you?” The question made the person perk up a bit, like they were surprised that Cherami even cared.
“Jack! But lots of people just call me Jackie. Like my friends….which I haven’t seen them in a long time. Can’t remember when I last saw them, haha….oops.” They sighed and licked their chapped lips. That was when Cherami noticed the fangs.
“Haha…..yeah, it was nice to meet you but I need to leave, so bye-” Cherami quickly announced and pointed her wand at her boots, putting a spell on them so she could run faster. She completely ignored Jackie’s response and, clutching her wand and basket, started sprinting down the trail. The environment became a blur of color as she sped closer to her house. In the blurriness, she saw a dark blob pass her, which distracted her long enough to make her trip over a root jutting out of the ground. Cherami yelped, her wand and basket flew out of her hands. The ground rapidly got closer, when she was suddenly jerked backwards. She cried out and flailed, trying to gain her balance until she realized that someone was holding her.
“You okay? I caught your glasses.” Said a familiar voice. Cherami squinted at the face and snagged her glasses. It was Jackie. Cherami started squirming aggressively and screaming. “Wait w-what are you doing–”
“PUT ME DOWN–”
“But I’m–”
“I SAID PUT ME DOWN!!!”
“Um….okay….” Jackie dropped Cherami, who kept screaming once she realized that Jackie wasn’t standing on the ground.
“WAIT NO–” Cherami landed on the dirt trail with a big OOF. “Shit….”
“You good? I honestly don’t feel bad if you got hurt cuz it was your fault! You told me to drop you that’s what you get!” Jackie was floating right above Cherami, their red eyes staring right at her. Cherami scrambled backwards, trying to find her wand.
“S-Stay back! I can and will use magic.” She stuttered, staring at the Jackie while patting the ground behind her. Where is it where is it where is it…..
“Did I say something weird? Or...or do I smell bad?” They started mumbling, “Of course I smell bad I probably smell like a dead animal…”
Cherami finally caught sight of her wand, which had rolled a few yards away. Some stuff had spilled out of her basket, too.
“No, it’s because you’re a fucking vampire!”
Jackie was silent for a few seconds, then laughed. “Holy shit I forgot about that. I’ve only been like this for…...what’s the day today?”
“Um.......the 27th.” Cherami responded and started scooting over to her wand.
“Forty-three days!” Jackie stated after counting with their fingers for a bit. They sat up and leaned back as if they were resting on a chair, except they were hovering above the ground. “Throwback to when I was turned...it was hella painful.”
“So you’re….not going to kill me?” Cherami paused, still tense, but curious.
“What? No!” The vampire almost looked offended. “Why would I? I’ve only seen three other people in the past month and a half. One person I just heard their voice so who knows if it even was a person. The second person I, uh….I was really hungry and hadn’t really eaten in a while so I may or may not have lost control of myself and…” They waved it off, “it doesn’t matter they’re dead now. And then there’s you! Congrats, you’re person number three!”
“Oh...fun.” Cherami forced a smile. “So how come you haven’t seen anyone else? This forest isn’t that small you could’ve easily just left.”
“Well….yeah but I barely eat so I have no energy, so I’m just tired all the time. That’s why I was just chilling on the ground when you found me. I was way too lazy to fly up into a tree so I was just kinda sat there.”
“You need to eat! You just said that you lost it and killed someone because you were so hungry. By the way please don’t do that to me I’d like to stay alive thank you very much. It’s close to being nighttime, so there’s probably some mice or something you can go snack on.”
Jackie silently lands on the ground and looks down at Cherami. “Wait you don’t hate me anymore?” They whispered.
Cherami grunted as she got up. “I never said I hated you. I was just scared because I expected you to rip my neck open.” She took off her hat, which somehow stayed on despite everything that just happened, and blew off the dirt. She brushed off her cloak and flattened the fabric. “You vampires don’t exactly have a good reputation.”
“Heh, you got that right.” Jackie smiled, showing off their fangs. “Oh, yeah! You dropped your stuff.” They flew over to the basket, and started to put some of the items back in.
Cherami watched them in silence for a few seconds. “What happened to your clothes?”
“Oh, yeah…. Sometimes I dissociate and fall out of trees, or I see a raccoon and I’m like ‘haha it’s a raccoon,’ and then I pick it up and– you know what I’m glad I can’t get rabies that would suck.”
“Yeah that wouldn’t be very fun for anyone.” Cherami picked up her wand.
“Hey, that reminds me! So you know how I’ve just been stranded in this forest for, like, over a month? I don’t have anywhere to live and I have no way to bathe, and also I don’t have any clothes! Also I have no idea where I am because after being bitten I was laying on the ground writhing in pain until I passed out and woke up in the middle of nowhere with blood all over my mouth! It was great.”
“Oh God–”
“So I was wondering….can I live with you? I’m just a lonely wittle vampire who means no harm!”
“No–”
“Please?” Jackie dragged the word for a few seconds. “I won’t kill you or anything I promise.”
Cherami sighed. “Fine–”
“YES!” Jackie clapped their hands together.
“BUT! If you try anything I won’t hesitate kick you out. Also I have a familiar who’s a tiger so don’t you even think about eating her or I’ll stomp you to death with my fucking boots.”
“Deal!”
“Now hurry up and get the basket so we can go home.”
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Drunk-Dialing Wormholes (MCU/Tolkien crossover)
A/N: This is for @uru-viel who recently Did a Very Cool Thing.
As a general rule, Darcy was against drunk!science.
She was, in fact, usually the voice of reason that shouted down the drunk!science. Darcy, as a general rule, tended to prefer drunk!dancing or drunk!marathons (preferably of B-level slasher films). Darcy did not think that drunk and science should be in the same hemisphere, let alone the same lab. The closest she had ever come to drunk!science was when she attempted to figure out the tip at Waffle House at 3:00AM on Thursday night.
Everyone made interesting decisions in college.
Today, she was making an exception to her general rule. Today was a day for exceptions and skirting of rules and ignoring of guidelines. Today was the day of Jane and Thor’s break-up. Darcy would call it ‘the big break-up’ but, truth be told, the relationship ended with more of a whimper than a bang. There was long distance and then there was long distance, she was honestly impressed that they’d managed to maintain the flame for the length of time that they did.
Just for the day, she was bending the rules.
“Wine and science,” Jane said, the lower half of her spine undulating side to side as if her core muscles had forgotten how to work. “Wine and science,” she repeated, “is a marvelous combination.”
“I think there’s more wine than science. And not enough whine.”
“I hate that I can hear the spelling change,” Jane muttered.
“You know me so well.”
“Too well.”
“Wounded,” Darcy said. “I am hurt.”
“You are drunk,” Jane said, reaching over and gently pushing on her shoulder.
She obligingly swayed, tipping so far she almost unseated herself on the stool. “I’m the drunk half of this drunk!science experiment,” she said sagely. “Now go bring some more science into the party so I can bring more wine.”
“I...don’t think that’s how it works.”
“We gotta keep it equal! Even! Ish!”
Jane pondered that for a moment, then nodded and shrugged. “I had... I had a thing I was going to do, with that - that-”
“The other thing?”
“Yeah.”
Darcy pulled a face. “Now I’m sad, because I think I know which things you mean. We spend... a lot of time together. Maybe too much.”
Jane shot her a mournful look, “If we weren’t platonic besties-”
“We’d be the bestest girlfriends,” Darcy finished, holding out her fist for a bump.
Jane bumped back solemnly. “In another life.”
“One without Thor.”
“Or Ian,” she added.
“Ugh,” Darcy said, grimacing. “Don’t remind me.”
“Sorry, sorry... I’ll just,” she gestured vaguely towards the Bridge machine. “I’ll just bring the science level up enough that we can open another bottle of wine.”
“I’ll need wine and whine if we’re talking about Ian.”
Jane poked at the machine, “I had an inkling the other day, but it was a weird one. I think my inkling was on the right track.”
“Did you write it down?”
“I didn’t want to waste the ink if I was wrong.”
“Cute,” Darcy said. “Maybe I should introduce you to Sam, he likes puns.”
“No men, not for at least... three months. Mourning period.”
“Fair. So...the inkling. Need paper?”
“Nah, no paper. Just a few adjustments, like-” Jane wrenched at the machine, turning it a quarter to the left and then hitting a few buttons out of Darcy’s line of sight. “There, that might do it.”
“Might?”
She shrugged. “The inkling was vague and now wine. ‘Might’ is as good as it’s going to get tonight.”
“You want I should press the red button?”
Jane pursed her lips. “Uh...maybe we should wait until tomorrow?”
Darcy gave her an exaggeratedly patient look. “Jane. Janey. What is tonight?”
“Drunk!science night.”
“This night comes but once a relationship!”
“True, okay. Push the button.”
Darcy swayed over, one hand clutching her wine glass, and slung her other arm over Jane’s shoulder. She leaned in, pulling Jane along with her, until her hand could flatten over the big red button. She locked eyes with the older woman and waggled her eyebrows until Jane started giggling, then and only then did she push the button.
It was difficult to say who was more surprised when it worked: Darcy or Jane. But one moment they were cheerfully tipsy-slash-drunk in the lab and the next moment they were stumbling forward into a forest.
“This isn’t where I parked the bar,” Darcy said.
“Oh my god,” Jane breathed. “It worked!”
“Your inkling worked.”
“It worked!”
“Jane...”
“I can’t believe-”
“Jane!”
“What?”
“You didn’t write down the inkling.”
“Well, no.”
“So nobody knows where we are and, unless they’re like, as smart and specialized as you, odds are they won’t figure out how we got here.”
“...oops?”
Darcy squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment. “I’m too tipsy for this,” she muttered. “Okay, so, here’s what we do. We walk until we find people-”
“People?”
“Sentient beings, preferably ones we can communicate with, and then we ask them for help. Your machine can only move people through space, right? Not time and dimensions?”
“Theoretically, yes.”
“Well, ok then.”
“But if I’m wrong?”
“Panic, pain, the whole nine yards. But first! Optimism!”
“Fueled by wine.”
“That’s the best kind of optimism!”
Wine-fuelled optimism only got them about fifty feet further into the trees. The forest was dark, slightly dank, and quiet enough to impress upon the women the need for both speed and silence. The light, shaded by the overhanging branches and leaves, was dim enough to be confused with dusk. The weather was just warm enough that they were comfortable, but both wondered how that might change once true night fell.
“It’s too quiet,” Darcy muttered.
“Don’t say that, you’ll freak me out.”
“Join me in my freak-out. The water’s fine.”
“Ha ha,” Jane muttered, carefully clambering over a massive downed tree.
There was no clear pathway, but the trees were too large to grow too close together and they provided enough shade that the space between them largely empty of sun-craving foliage. There were mushrooms and shrubs, unrecognizable to either woman, but those were easy to navigate. It was, after all, very simple to travel through a forest when you have no clear destination.
Being neither accustomed to camping nor even remotely acquainted with woodcraft, both of them were utterly surprised to find themselves suddenly surrounded by people with bows and arrows and skin that glowed faintly in the dim forest’s light.
“Definitely not in Kansas anymore,” Darcy muttered.
One of the people stepped forward, lowering his bow. He said something in a smooth language that seemed entirely comprised of L’s and R’s. At their obvious incomprehension, he switched to something with more glottal stops. Seeing their continued confusion, he scowled, stepping even closer, and studied them intently.
Darcy watched as his eyes skimmed over her and then stuttered to an obvious halt on Jane. She barely kept herself from rolling her eyes. Jane, for some reason unfathomable but utterly amusing, seemed to attract a certain type. That type was blonds, usually affluent blonds, but it was true regardless of placement on the gender spectrum. Darcy did not understand it, but after several years of friendship, including many nights at varying bars and/or restaurants, she felt quite comfortable making the broad, sweeping generalization that her friend was blond-nip.
He said something soft and quietly awed, then slowly slid his bow into a sheath on his back. He reached out a hand to Jane and-
Jane reached back.
Darcy watched with wide eyes as her friend accepted the hand and allowed herself to be drawn closer to the stranger. “Uh...what’s going on?”
“I...have no idea,” Jane said, never taking her eyes off of their new friend. “But I’m strangely okay with it. Can’t tell if that’s the wine talking or leftover thrill of success from the science.”
“Maybe both.”
“Probably both,” she agreed. “But he’s...”
“Holy shit, he’s an elf!” Darcy squeaked as the stranger tilted his head to listen to them, long blond hair sweeping to one side to reveal a very pointy ear.
“He’s perfect,” Jane breathed. There were stars in her eyes as she looked at him, and considering the woman’s hobbies, degrees, and life-long obsession, that was saying something.
It was, honestly, kind of adorable. The strange man and Jane were just... standing there. Gazing into one another’s eyes. After a minute or so, another one of the strangers (elves!) sheathed their bow and glided over to the trio. This one was a redhead and looked female, assuming that the elves subscribed to anything approaching human gender ideas. The ginger elf said something to the blond in that first liquid-silver language, it sounded soft and curious.
The blond responded, sounding just as breathless as Jane.
Ginger elf made a face like she was having too many emotions to convey. She turned smartly towards Darcy and made a broad gesture, obviously beckoning her closer.
“Hi, I have no idea what you’re saying but I’m totally not a threat,” Darcy said as she obeyed the unspoken command.
Ginger elf tilted her head to one side, looking amused. She turned to the rest of the elves and said something hard and quick, head tilting to the left of where Darcy and Jane had been walking. The others melted back into the foliage, though Darcy assumed that they were still there, and the elf turned back to her with a raised eyebrow as if to say, ‘Well? You coming?’
“Well,” Darcy muttered, gamely following the elves and Jane, “we found sentient beings, now we just gotta work on the communication bits.”
It felt like hours later that they reached something approaching civilization. In this case, ‘civilization’ came in the form of a fortress whose walls were made of living trees. Darcy gave them props for sustainability and their obvious support of the environment, but she was feeling tired, grumpy, and slightly queasy at that point. Wine and exercise were not a good combination.
Much like wine and science.
Darcy, who at this point wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep off what was sure to be an awful hangover, was a being made of regret.
Then she glanced over at the blond, who had introduced himself as ‘Legolas’ in the most adorable ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane,’ moment to ever make Darcy wish she had a functional camera, and her regret subsided. Legolas and Jane kept sneaking glances at each other, and every time they locked eyes it was as if the world melted away. And then either Tauriel, the redheaded elf, or Darcy would have to poke and prod them to get them moving again.
Darcy and Tauriel were well on their way to becoming friends in spite of the language barrier. There was an entire code of raised eyebrows and exasperated half-smiles shared between them as they helped shepherd their friends onwards.
The tree-fortress had a very large tree-door that Darcy decided not to think about too hard because the door appeared to be made of living wood and that was some next-level horticulture right there. Beyond the gates was a city, but a tree city. It was everything Darcy had imagined as a child when people described ‘tree houses’ to her, like Swiss Family Robinson meets fairytale, and she was instantly enchanted and enraptured.
The rest of the elves from the original encounter had melted back out of the woodwork and formed up at their backs as an escort. Darcy had a moment to feel wary before they were ushered into a very large tree-house-thing and into something that was obviously a receiving room. The tip-off was the very large and intimidating chair at one end of the room.
There was another elf-man sitting in the throne (because what else could it be?), long-limbed and graceful even stationary. He also had blond hair, and Darcy had a moment of worry as to whether or not there would be a blond-off for the favor of fair Jane. Clearly the wine had yet to leave her system.
The new, somehow even blonder elf was staring at Legolas and Jane with a faint frown, then his eyes swept over to her and - oh.
Huh.
Well. Shit.
His eyes were silvery, or maybe blue, it was difficult to tell with the distance between them but - oh. He had risen and was rapidly closing that distance. He stopped in front of her and reached out and, just like Jane, she reached back immediately. His hand in hers felt like that swooping feeling when a roller coaster first starts its descent down a big hill, like fireworks and killer harmonies and she was soothed and exhilarated all at once.
“What the fuck, Jane,” Darcy breathed.
“With you, 100%,” she replied.
Legolas and her elf - shit, that was too possessive, that wasn’t, but it was? Too confusing - started speaking in the flowing language. After a moment, her elf nodded sharply, then lifted his free hand to press his palm to his chest.
“Thranduil,” he said.
“Darcy,” she replied, smiling helplessly.
She was feeling sightly better about the wine/science combo.
#amuse writes stuff#darcy lewis#jane foster#darcy & jane#darcy x thranduil#jane x legolas#cheating and relying on that fandom thing where elves have recognizable inklings towards their soulmates#elves and dwarves have soulmates#hobbits and humans have to figure it out themselves#lotr crossover#playing fast and loose with canon#story runs roughly concurrent with thor: ragnarok and slightly pre-hobbit#jane is blond-nip#this is a consistent headcanon of mine for jane#i also think lucius malfoy and possibly jadis would be into her#idk where this could go#no really
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New=Nova
Yes kiddos, time for your daily Latin lesson. Well, not really.
I had one of these ages ago. Used the hell out of it, but for whatever reason (probably to acquire the Next Greatest Thing) I ended up selling it, and it eventually became a synth I wished I hadn't parted with. About two or three years ago, I found a Nova II keyboard on the auction here for not that much and bid and won, so I was happy to have that. Having almost one knob/slider per function was the shit, as the Nova series are realllllly deeeeeeeeeeep machines, seriously, programmer's heaven. Again, for whatever reason (Next Greatest Thing totally) I sold it. Virus TI maybe? I dunno. Immediately missed it. So when I saw this for $350, I was like fuck... I don't have the inputs on the mixer!!! I can't really spend much more than that and I will DEFINITELY get outbid aaaargh! So I crossed my appendages and bid $366 and won it for $360. Whew! But the seller was a liar. "No encoder or button issues." BULLSHIT. Both the Fast Data encoders (to the right of the screen) were jumpy as hell. Grrrrrr. Also, the page up button didn't work 3/4 of the time. GRRRRRRR. Not. Cool. So I got in touch with Novation support and they are literally the fucking best, THE BEST I TELL YOU, and have two new encoders on the way, free of charge. They hook people up. So stoked, and this is not the first time I've had this experience with Novation. The aforementioned Nova II (I'm sure I posted about it here) had a broke off slider and the encoders were iffy, and I got replacement parts for that. Also had a K-Station with a wonky encoder, got that part. And more. Novation rules. I told the guy I've been hooked up so many times in the past I'd like to repay the favor and send them a case of craft beer. And I bloody damn well will too if I can get their mailing address! Anyway, I had a minute before dinner tonight, so I took the thing apart, disassembled the encoders, cleaned and lubed them, snapped the tops back in, and put it all back together. Works freaking fine now. Oh and about the button. I thought there may be a tact switch deal, but Novation designed the buttons in a very unique way, shoulda taken photos... almost like keyboard velocity sensing rubber and conductive contact meets open-faced electrical conductive point deal. Cleaned it off with and eraser and now that works perfect too. Yay! All is well in Novaland. Thing sounds so good too.
You can see how you can gently pry the tabs open that hold the top half of the encoder in place, then do the cleaning, and maybe gently give the little sensor leggiwegs a pushing upward, then fit the top half back on and squeeze down the tabs from the side and top (takes finesse with a pair of super pointy needle nose pliers). Not impossible. And until the replacement parts arrive will do just fine. I did make one mistake with this job though. There was a brass machine screw female thingy that serves two purposes: One, to hold down the PCB; Two, to give the hold-the-housing-down screw a place to actually screw into. On the one side, it screws down over a male machine screw piece that sticks out from the inside, on the rear of the front panel (backside of the front panel?) and then on the other is where the holdy-downy screw goes in. I thought it was sticking up a bit and I gave it a tweak with pliers and the whole thing snapped off. Oops. I have some JB Weld (JD Weld? I forget), it's epoxy strengthened with powdered steel, so I may try to epoxy the broke off side back but I have doubts as to how structurally sound that will be. We do learn from our mistakes.
Shameless plug for my own musical misadventures. Check it out. CD release via Diffuse Reality Records. Coming March 10th. Woo-hoo.!
That's all for this one. Hope y'all are ok out there.
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