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ushittyoldman · 3 years

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sweetheart like you

request. hiii welcome! my brain is empty rn but some spike fics would be so amazing! i’ll probably be back when i have an idea but for now maybe just some first kiss with Spike and up until then they had just been flirting:)

pairing. spike x fem!reader

warning. language, mentions of s ex, & just a whole bunch of fluff

a/n. my first spike request eeeeee here u go anon! i hope u like it, it’s still taking me a while 2 pin down his characterization so i kinda just went w how i thought he’d b in a situation like this. nevertheless, i hope u like it thank u 4 this cute asf request (fun fact! spike always reminded me of bob dylan bc of his hair so this title came from a bob dylan song)

"Found him,” you mumbled discreetly into your ear piece, your sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose.

“Attagirl,” you heard Spike’s smooth drawl through the ear piece, and you attempted to conceal the slight smile that had made its way to your face.

“Careful, Spike, looks like I’m doing your job for you,” you teased, still keeping a watchful eye on the slimy suspect who happened to hold a handsome bounty on his head.

“Can’t really complain when you look so much better doing it.”

“Just fuck already so I don’t have to hear this everyday!” Faye snapped, and this time you couldn’t help the soft blush that colored your cheeks. You tightened your jacket around yourself, attempting to alleviate some of the embarrassment you felt.

“It’s not like that—”

“You know you’re always welcome to join us, Faye,” Spike retaliated, and this time you couldn’t hold back your giggle. Had you turned around, you wouldn’t have missed Spike’s smile widening upon hearing the musical sound.

“I’d rather die.” Faye deadpanned, and you had to remind yourself that you couldn’t laugh too loudly due to the delicate position you were currently in.

“One day... just one day of peace and quiet. You think that’s a lot to ask for, Ein?”

Silence followed Jet’s tired question, and you realized you’d have to once again step up and apologize on behalf of you three. You softly mumbled into the earpiece, “Sorry, Jet, remind me to buy you a new bonsai tree to make it up to you!”

You could hear the smile in his voice as he enthusiastically said your name. “Anyone ever tell you you’re an absolute sweetheart?”

“Once or twice.”

Before anyone could respond, movement from the corner of your eye caught your attention. The man you had been tailing had stood up from his seat on the couch, paying the stripper who had clung to him for the majority of the hour. You began to subtly gather your things and pay for your drink at the bar, preparing to follow him out of the club.

“He’s on the move,” you angled your head to your left, eyes searching for familiar brown eyes, “I’m gonna follow him.”

Once your eyes met Spike’s, an understanding passed between you two. He had been sitting on one of the couches towards the back of the dimly-lit room. His long legs were spread as his arm was casually draped over the top of the couch, and a cigarette loosely hung from his lips. His long hair was pulled back slightly, since it was styled to mimic the type of men who frequented the club, and you smiled at the memory of you and Faye attempting to tame his hair in the bathroom right before you three departed on the mission. Though he was attempting to pass off as a regular civilian enjoying the strip show, there was something about Spike that made him stand out from the rest of the crowd. Realizing you had probably spent an abnormal amount of time admiring him, you met his eyes again and decided to ignore the look of blatant amusement that so clearly danced within them.

You simply nodded once and you silently applauded yourself on being able to catch the subtle nod he gave you in response in the dimly-lit room. His lips quirked up slightly, and you somehow felt more reassured in your ability to pursue the criminal.

Gulping down the last of your drink just for that liquid confidence, you delicately placed the payment on the table, and adjusted your top as you followed the man out the door. As you left the strip club, you noticed the shadow of the man’s trench coat as he leisurely walked towards the darker side of the already extremely shady town. You inhaled sharply before wrapping your own coat around yourself tighter. Suddenly, the man took a sharp left turn into a narrow dark alleyway between two buildings with impossibly bright neon signs.

“He went down an alley— that’s gotta be a dead-end. It’s almost too easy!”

Spike quickly yelled out your name, an odd edge to his words. “No! We’re sticking to the plan.”

“But I can—”

“Spike’s right, it’s too risky,” Faye interrupted evenly, though her tone showcased her own concern at your irrational thinking.

Deciding to prove them wrong, you furrowed your eyebrows and tightened your grip on the concealed gun. You let out a soft exhale, your breath visible in the frosty night. You immediately turned the corner, prepared to take the man by surprise, yet you stilled in shock when you were suddenly slammed against the brick wall. You could faintly hear your sunglasses clatter on the ground. You saw stars the moment your head hit the wall, and you were almost positive you were dealing with a concussion. You internally grimaced at the earful you’d undoubtedly be receiving from Spike, Jet, and Faye.

“What do you think you’re doing, you sneaky little bitc— ooh,” he mockingly cooed, “You’re pretty.”

“Oh, for the love of—” you heard Spike groan in your earpiece, most likely realizing you deliberately disobeyed the plan.

The man’s rough hands began playing with your hair, and you tried your best not to cringe at the feeling. Briefly, you conceded that Faye and Jet may have been right when they voiced their concerns over you working alongside the bounty hunters on this mission. You were the Bebop’s resident medic, and you had an alarming lack of experience with guns and self-defense in general. The two facts paired with your intense hatred of harming people, and you were most definitely the least qualified person to be on this mission.

Momentarily, you wondered why you even pushed so hard to join your friends and leave the safety of the Bebop. You suddenly thought of Spike. Spike with his lazy smile, as he encouraged you to join them. Spike and his untamable hair as he taught you how to use a gun. Spike and his warm hands as he softly caressed your cheek the first and only time you had managed to take him down in your self-defense classes.

You groaned internally as the realization hit you harder than the concussion.

Stupid Spike.

Deciding not to succumb to death just as yet, you abruptly realized there was a technique that Spike had taught you for this very occasion. You groggily tried to remember the technique, and you urged yourself to remember quicker when the man began to trail his hands down your body. Belatedly, you realized your coat was now on the ground, drenched in the wet snow, and the unforgiving cold air was nipping at your exposed arms and legs.

“Gonna take you on a ride, girly,” he wickedly mumbled in your ear, and you tried your best not to flinch.

Through the cloudy haze of your brain, you managed to mimic Spike’s exact movements as you replayed the memory of his lean body demonstrating what to do. Lifting your knee to kick the suspect in his groin, you cringed as he let out a yell of pain. He bent over, and you took advantage of his momentary distraction by lifting yourself up and gracefully (you’d like to think) wrapping your thighs around his head, letting out a quiet grunt as you used all of your weight to flip the two of you over and onto the cold pavement. You shakily landed on your feet, but you heard a sickening crunch as the man’s face was the first to make contact with the concrete. The guilt almost bubbled to the surface, but you decided he was one of the few who deserved what he got.

You let out a quick huff as your ample chest heaved up and down with every breath. You could feel that your hair was a tousled mess, and your skirt had ridden up considerably.

“Holy shit.”

You looked up quickly and belatedly realized Spike had been standing there, casually leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He had a small smile on his face, though there was also an uncharacteristic red tint to his angular face.

“Spike?” you breathed out. Despite his relaxed expression, you were momentarily worried that he would be annoyed with you not following the plan.

“Quite the little badass, aren’t you?” he responded, no heat and all fondness.

You took a step towards him, though you swayed slightly. You grimaced at the idea of your bare knees hitting pavement, but more so at the fact that you’d be embarrassing yourself in front of Spike. Your confusion grew when you realized that you were suddenly gently lifted in someone’s arms. Perplexed, you looked up and made eye contact with warm brown ones.

When did he catch me? you silently thought to yourself, and you figured the concussion was a lot more serious than you had previously thought.

“You with me?” Spike softly mumbled your name, and you noticed the concern clouding his eyes. You suddenly realized how close your faces were.

“Concussion,” you quickly responded and you internally slapped yourself at the stupid response, “I, uh. I have one.”

Spike’s face broke out into his typical shit-eating grin, and you felt yourself lighten at the familiar expression.

“You’re cute,” he casually spoke. Spike’s smile widened at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks.

Just then, a particularly relentless gust of cold air blew through the ally, and you unknowingly shivered. You boldly cradled yourself further into Spike’s broad chest, and his smile dropped upon remembering your current situation.

“Faye,” he snapped into the earpiece as he angled his face slightly away from you, “thank you for taking your sweet time.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, jackass. I’m almost there.”

Your shivering worsened, as the cold air nipped at your exposed arms, legs, midriff, and cleavage. Softly shifting your body so that you were comfortably held up with his one arm, Spike quickly pulled off his jacket with his free arm, and moved you so that he could hold you with his other arm as he completely took off his jacket. You hadn’t noticed, mainly due to the softness of his almost imperceptible actions, and so you were completely surprised when you suddenly felt a warm blanket cover your entire body.

Your eyes snapped open when you realized that it smelled way too good to be a blanket. You looked down at the familiar navy blue jacket that dwarfed your entire body, and you looked up into amused brown eyes.

His yellow shirt was casually rolled up at the sleeves, and the button-up was tightly fitted across his lean yet muscular figure. His arms flexed underneath your weight, and you relished in the feeling of his warm arms caressing the bare skin of your own legs and arms as he held you bridal style in the dark alley. Your stomach erupted into butterflies as the weight and intimacy of the situation set in. You were brought out of your thoughts when you realized he had caught you subtly checking him out again.

“Stop laughing at me,” you huffed as a wayward strand of your silky hair landed on your forehead.

“Why would I be laughing at you, pretty girl?” he mumbled, a smile dancing on his lips.

His lips.

They were so close to your own, and you were once again filled with the insatiable urge to kiss him. You blinked quickly at the thought. Your concussion must have been doing a real number on you.

Your internal confliction grew stronger with each passing second. A large, large part of you wanted to close the distance between you two and finally kiss Spike, consequences be damned. But the small, louder part of you was terrified. You were terrified of rejection, of your insecurities coming to light, of being just another meaningless fling to Spike. Your thoughts grew cloudier, and you were overtaken with the sudden urge to sleep.

Your eyes grew heavy, and your head began to loll against his broad chest. Noticing this, Spike’s smile dropped once again and he began to silently curse Faye and her damned time management skills. He hurriedly mumbled your name, his distress clearly evident in his deep voice.

“C’mon now don’t go falling asleep with a concussion,” he teased, and some of his worry for you was quelled when he heard your quiet, breathy laughter in response, “Careful, doc, looks like I’m doing your job for you.”

Your smile widened upon his teasing remark, mocking your words from earlier, and you rolled your eyes in response. “Smartass.”

“Never said otherwise.”

Once again, his lips were just the right distance from your own, and you felt an instant surge of confidence. You swallowed, and squashed every single worry and fear you had, reasoning that this was Spike, your Spike, and he wouldn’t hurt you.

“There is... there is one thing you can do to help the concussion,” you shyly said, your cheeks burning brighter than the red neon sign that loomed over you two.

Spike’s eyes widened and his face turned serious and desperate as he nodded. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

Butterflies erupted once again upon noticing how prepared he was to help you, and you smiled up in pure adoration at the tall man. Your eyes quickly darted to his lips then back up to those enchanting eyes.

“You have to come closer.”

Spike blinked once. A second time. And then he smiled softly at you. Understanding flashed in his eyes, and you swore his cheeks held the faintest of blushes. He leaned in closer.

“This close?” he knowingly teased, an encouraging lilt to his soft tone.

“Closer.”

You swore you could feel your heart in your throat as it sporadically beat faster the closer he came. His face was now right in front of yours, and you nervously swallowed. You licked your lips, and he looked down at them, mesmerized with the action.

“How’s this?” he smiled up at you, his usual playful smile on his handsome face.

“Spike,” you half moaned and half whined, frustrated with having him so close, yet not being able to finally get what you want.

His breath hitched at the sweet sound of you moaning his name, and he couldn’t help it before he leaned in slowly and met your soft lips. You closed your eyes and relished in the ecstatic feeling. The kiss itself wasn’t very long, yet everything about it was already burned into your brain. Your lips molded against his for a few more seconds before you softly pulled away and let out a dreamy sigh.

Your nerves attempted to get the better of you, yet you surprisingly felt reassured in your feelings for Spike. You silently looked up at him, but he was already looking down at you with nothing but warmth and fondness on his face. He softly reached down and tucked the wayward strand of hair behind your ear, before softly caressing your cheek. You leaned your face into his warm palm as you closed your eyes once more, and he felt his heart ache sweetly.

“You really should get concussions more often,” Spike cheekily said.

“Shut up,” you responded as you closed your eyes again to nuzzle your face into his chest. There was no heat in your response, and Spike couldn’t help but silently admire you.

He moved closer to you and gently kissed your forehead before straightening himself up. He tucked you closer into his chest and tightened his jacket around your figure.

Somehow, you weren’t as cold anymore.

“About damn time.”

Your eyes opened, and you mustered up as bright a smile as you could at your friend.

“Faye!”

An unamused expression donned Spike’s face, and he turned around to pointedly glare at Faye. “I could say the same thing to you. What, you saw a mirror on your way here?”

Faye had restrained the suspect at this point, her heeled shoes digging into his back as a way to alleviate the anger she felt at the man for what he did to you. She looked up and genuinely smiled at Spike, adjusting her coat.

“Jab all you want, Spike, but thanks to you, I won the little bet I had going on with Jet!”

Faye’s amusement grew when she saw your smile drop and Spike’s glare turn into a lofty smile almost simultaneously. You looked up at Spike, yet you flinched at the sudden movement, as the pounding in your head worsened. Concern washed over Spike, yet you shook your head in reassurance, before continuing.

“Spike— the earpiece!”

“You just had to make a move now,” Spike mockingly chided, though you knew he wasn’t as bothered as you were.

“Concussion!” you reminded him, and he cooed at the pout you gave him as his gaze softened.

You gulped before guiltily mumbling Jet’s name. “…Jet?”

“Two bonsai trees, you hear me? You owe me two bonsai trees now.”

#spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel #spike x reader #cowboy bebop #cowboy bebop fanfiction #this was so fun 2 write n i am sad its over #spike cowboy bebop

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deejadabbles · 3 years

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Vampire Atem/Yami Alphabet Headcanons

Found this list of vamp-themes headcanons by @an-annyeoing-writer and I knew I had to do them for our favorite king-turned-spirit!

For those of you who read my Spells of Defiance series, these headcanons can be taken as 100% canon to that AU <3

A - Accident - would they turn someone to save their life?

Oof, already starting with a hard one. So, Atem is one of those vampires who hates his existence, he believes it’s a curse. However, he does still love and care for people deeply, and he knows that for many, life is sacred even if it’s a cursed life. I think in a moment of weakness, especially in his earlier years as a vampire, he might turn someone just because he’s desperate not to lose them, only to regret his decision later, especially if that someone is like him and hates what they’ve become. We all make mistakes, right?

B - Bite - how do they bite? Sensually, aggressively? Do they make it hurt or try to be gentle?

Atem is extremely gentle when he feeds off of people, always careful not to bite too deep or tear the skin more than needed, he even holds you and tries to soothe you with gentle strokes of his hands. Now, whether he tries to make it “sensual” or at all sexual...that’s a complicated topic. While Atem is almost always disgusted with himself when/while he feeds, he does recognize that there is a level of intimacy and even romance that can be connected with drinking blood, so sometimes he can be persuaded to make it a more sensual thing if you’re his lover.

C - Control - do they take advantage of their powers?

That depends on who’s in the equation. I can see Atem using his new powers in order to bring justice to those he sees as wrong doers (like his season 0/early manga-self) as a way to make his vampire abilities useful, so from that angle he would “take advantage” of his powers. He might even get some small gratification in using his strength and speed to hunt down evil people, them cowering in fear is retribution for their wrong-doings, but even that’s not too over the top. Other than that, no, he doesn’t really use his powers for advantages over others.

D - Dangerous - how scary they can get? How bad things can they do? What’s their ethics?

So, while Atem does have a very strong moral code, Atem also has a temper, and said temper might be harder to control when he’s a vampire. Even when he’s not growling in anger, he can have this cold glare that could make bikers squeamish. There are moments, especially when he was a younger vampire, where he loses his temper and can get pretty scary. If you’re his loved one don’t worry too much, he would never lose control enough to hurt you, even though his yelling (and maybe throwing a thing or two) is pretty scary on it’s own. If you’re someone he sees a vermin though watch out, when he gets scary you’re probably going to end up dead or wishing you were dead.

E - Exchange - do they opt for blood bags or animal blood, if possible?

He opts for animal blood as often as he can. Sometimes he’ll hunt said animals himself but even that is a little too violent for his liking (Atem is a softie okay?!) so if he can go to a local butcher and get animal blood from them he’ll do it that way. He’s not fond of blood bags because A) they’re harder to acquire and B) having human blood in a cold plastic bag just makes him long for warm human blood and skin under his teeth more. Sure animal blood isn’t as sustaining for him, but Atem spent decades (maybe even centuries) figuring out how much animal blood he needs to consume in order to keep his blood lust under control so he’ll choose that over harming an innocent human.

Also, side note, if you live with him I hope you don’t have a sensitive sense of smell, because he heats up the blood on the stove to make it taste better and it can make the house stinky lol

F - First bite - on what occasion would they bite you for the first time?

Oooh that’s a good one. Like I said Atem has a very complicated relationship with feeding from his loved ones, especially his s/o, and he’s never going to ask you for your blood. So I’d say that not only would you have to offer your blood to him, but he would have to be out of other feeding options at the time. He knows that once he reaches a certain point of hunger he loses control and might kill you in a hunger-induced blood rage, so if drinking from you now, before he gets to that point, prevents that danger, he’d be willing to. Like I said above, Atem would be very gentle with you on that occasion, holding you close and stroking the skin around the bite mark to soothe any pain, and when he’s done he’d kiss the wound and the sore skin around it as amends.

The only other “first bite” scenario I can think of is if you spend months convincing him that you don’t mind (or even like) the occasional bite and finally convince him to drink your blood during an intimate moment, and again he’s very gentle and mindful of not hurting you.

G - Growl - are they more on the “civilized” side or do they enjoy hunting their prey down?

A bit of both, I guess? Since he tries not to drink from humans he’s more civilized in that way, but like I said before he does “hunt” evil people like an avenging dark angel, which he may get some small form of enjoyment from, so...

H - Hate - how do they feel about their kind? About themselves?

It’s honestly pretty depressing how much self-loathing Atem harbors. He genuinely thinks he’s an abomination. It doesn’t help that in all his centuries of living, he’s met very few vampires who’re “good” like him. He’s also someone who’s on a high horse and if he met a vamp who didn’t kill human’s but also wasn’t self loathing like him, he’d look down on said vampire. I’m warning you now if you fall in love with him, his self-hatred is very upsetting and can be hard to deal with.

I - Intimacy - how fast would they let you close to them? Would they want to share with you what they are?

Surprisingly, I say it’s not that hard. See, even though Atem thinks he’s a monster and tries his best to stay away from people, he also craves companionship and love. Sure, he’s spent several chunks of his immortal life isolating himself in remote woods and tall mountains for decades at a time, but he always returns to humanity at some point. So if you show that you want to be close to him he’ll try to warn you or even scare you away a bit, but it won’t take too long to let you in. And yes, he’d share what he is with you if you started to get close to him, not only as a means to scare you away “before he can hurt you” but also so you know what you’re getting into by being near him.

J - Joke - would they do pranks on other people with the use of their powers?

Sometimes, yes. If he’s close to you, he’ll start to get comfortable and like teasing you, so he’ll do minor things like sneak up behind you soundlessly and jump scare you, or zoom past you to get to something before you and play keep-away. Also, he doesn’t do this one intentionally, but sometimes he’ll be sitting in a dark room, and when you walk in you just suddenly hear this voice calling out to you in the darkness, scaring the crap outta you lol

K - Key - what’s the way of making them open up to you?

Honestly just...continue to shove your friendship in his face. Like I said under “intimacy” he still craves relationships and companionship despite how much he fears hurting people. He may try to push you away at first but if you just continue to hang around him he’ll eventually stop trying to scare you away and start opening up to you little by little.

L - Life - do they wish they were human?

Absolutely. I can see Atem, ever the fixer of problems, spending the first few hundred years searching for a cure for his “condition” not just for himself but for others who view vampires the same way. He often thinks about what his life would have been if he hadn’t been turned, and daydreams about the possibility of becoming human again.

M - Murder - would they kill someone while feeding? Have they ever done so?

Atem has killed while feeding, yes, but not voluntarily. I’m going with the general lore that vampires, when starved too long, can't control their bloodlust and Atem has killed while in that state. When he wakes with a limp, lifeless body in his arms, he’s a devastated wreck. Hurting innocent people is literally his living nightmare and the idea that his bloodlust can turn him into an animal sickens him. He would spend decades learning how much blood he needs to consume and how often, in order to keep that bloodlust from taking control.

N - Nature - do they justify their doings? Do they consider them natural?

Atem, the self-loathing martyr of a fanged prince, considering his bloodlust natural? LMAOOOO No. No he doesn’t, nor does he ever justify his actions. In fact, he uses the terrible things he’s done to justify why he shouldn’t be loved or even alive.

O - Odd - do they have any specific hobbies or habits?

Our gentle dark prince still loves games and puzzles, I think he’d like modern brain teasers that keep his mind sharp and un-ironically loves the puzzle games printed on the back of sunday newspapers, even though they aren’t hard (for him anyway). If you got close to him and showed him games he never got to play bc they’re multiplayers he’d honestly love you. He’d win most of the time, let's be honest, especially things like Clue, but his expression is just so cute and excited when you play his favorites that you’d lose 1000 times over just to see it.

P - Pain - are they sadistic? Do they enjoy what they do?

Nope. I think you all have the idea by now but Atem is one of the most self-loathing and gentle vampires you’d meet....or at least he’s gentle with you. Other vampires who hurt people for fun? Okay, I can see him being ever so slightly sadistic when dealing with creatures like that, he has no mercy for vampires who’ve embraced their monstrous curse, best you run the other way when he punishes them, else you may actually get a little frightened of him...

R - Roles - do they enjoy pretending to be normal people? How do they feel about leaving their life behind to start a new one?

I wouldn’t say that Atem pretends to be normal, in fact, the only part of his vampirism that he embraces is being an “other”, or rather, the aesthetic of being odd, something that most humans feel uneasy when confronted with. He’d see this as a good tool to keep people he may hurt away from him. He’s no stranger to stalking graveyards/cemeteries, creeping in the shadows in a way that has others scurrying past if they happen to spot him, basically anything that makes him seem creepy and makes others keep their distance. Ultimately it hurts him since he’s unexplainably lonely, but it hurts more to know he may hurt the humans he comes across. On the same note, leaving behind one life for another to avoid suspicion is a double-edged sword for him, while it reminds him how terribly lonely existence is, it’s good to keep those who might’ve grown close to him safe.

S - Scars - do they leave marks or try to make the wounds small and invisible?

If Atem feeds from someone voluntarily (as in, not in an animalistic state), he’ll do everything he can to not leave lasting marks. Leaving marks means more pain and we all know how much he hates causing pain to others.

T - Turned - how were they turned?

In my fic, Marik turned Atem as a form of revenge, but otherwise, I could honestly see Atem being turned by any YGO villain. I say villain because him being cursed with this life by a villain (like Bakura for example, or maybe another minion of Zorc) kind of goes along with the original story’s need to punish Atem and cast him into darkness for things that ultimately weren’t his fault.

U - Universe - what’s their biggest wish that they can’t achieve as immortals?

Mostly just...being close to people without constantly worrying that he’ll hurt or kill them. I can also see Atem yeaning for the simple pleasure of growing old and dying with one's family. If he fell in love he would crave the ability to just settle down and grow old together. Hell, he’s even one of those morbid romantics who thinks couples dying within days of each other is sweet and wishes he could do that when he loses his lover to old age.

V - Vampire - would they turn you?

Man again with the hard ones! Oof, okay, so...If you asked Atem to turn you, he’d say no, reciting his monologue about how vampires are cursed vermin who shouldn’t even exist, even if you retained your humanity after the turn, he knows the deep reaches of this curse and what it will make you do, and he hates the idea of you going through what he has.

...However, much like in the very first headcanon on this list...Atem makes mistakes and has his weak moments. If your life ended unexpectedly, of you were taken from him suddenly, like attacked or in some fatal accident, he may turn you in a moment of weakness; a desperate need to cling to you taking over his better judgment. He’d hate himself after and the only way he’d ever feel okay with it, is if time proved that you retained your humanity. He would teach you how to control your blood lust so you don’t have to go through half the things he has, and only then would he be okay with what he did to you in his moment of weakness.

W - War - would they engage in fighting their own kind for the humanity’s sake?

Yes! No one even has to ask him, Atem basically thinks the only good thing he can do with his powers is to rid the world of other vampires. He’s basically an avenging angel who’ll hunt down any vampire who threatens a human.

Y - Yandere - would they become dangerous to you (their lover)?

For the most part, I’d say no. Atem is self-aware and emotionally intelligent enough to tell if he ever starts crossing lines into “unhealthy” territory, and if that ever happened, he’d literally run away. He would leave you in order to protect you, no matter how much it hurt. There may be one (literally ONE) incident where he does something to you that crosses the line, but he’d be instantly horrified and remove himself from your life, moving to the other side of the world with no means to follow him, if it meant protecting you from himself. Now the chances of this happening in the first place? Hard to say. I really don’t think Atem is unhinged or even violent enough for it to be likely, but, an argument could be made that after everything he’s gone through, Atem may start seeing you and his love for you in an obsessives, unhealthy way. Again though, even if this did happen he would realize it and run away before it can go too far.

Z - Zombie - are they on their way to losing sanity?

I don’t think so. Atem is as strong (mentally/emotionally) as they come. Maybe eventually, after millennia and millennia of constantly losing loved ones and dealing the the monster he’s become he would start losing his sanity, but that would take a long, long time.

#atem #yami yugi #atem x reader #yami x reader #pharaoh atem #yami yugi x reader #yugioh x reader #vampire au #vampire Atem #vampire yami #ygo #headcanons #atem headcanons #yami headcanons

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insiderengokushaori · 3 years

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Warnings: Non-Con, use of aphrodisiacs, violence, dead dove do not eat

18+ Minors DNI

His brow furrows when you’re blown back away from him, and he’s by your side in an instant, checking you over for injuries. He leans over you, his hair falling around you in a golden curtain.

“Good, it looks like you’re unharmed,” His expression softens once he’s helped you sit up. “Get control of your breathing.”

You try to do as he says, blinking the stars out of your eyes as you do. Your ears start to ring, so you can’t hear the next thing he says to you, but you nod anyways. He moves to stand, lurching forward before he can get up, his eyes wide.

You frown at him, struggling to stand when his skin goes pale.

“Rengoku, what’s wrong?” You put a hand on his shoulder, flinching away when he jerks you off. The demon behind you looks triumphant.

“I was hoping she could distract you long enough for me to inject you!” His voice grates on your ears. You step in front of your superior to guard him.

“What did you do to him?”

“I’d worry about yourself, now,” The demon beams at you, but his smile makes your skin crawl. You tighten your grip on your sword, assuming a stance. “The effects of the aphrodisiac should be kicking in any second!”

“The- what is that?”

In the blink of an eye, your superior’s swept your feet out from under you, and you’re staring up at him with wide eyes. His pupils are blown wide, and he leans over you looking horrified with his own actions.

“You see,” The demon continues, each word patronizing. “Us demons can’t reproduce. We have no need for intercourse. I can’t remember the last time I got hard myself.”

A sneering laugh causes you to shiver and try to squirm out from underneath Rengoku. He growls, grabbing your wrists and forcing them into the ground with such force that it feels like they’ll shatter.

“I’m so sorry!” He keeps his voice soft, and when he speaks, he sounds like he’s ready to cry. “I’m so sorry. You need to get away from me.” He tightens his grip on your wrists, causing you to cry out. “You need to run!”

“I can’t! You’re going to break my wrists Rengoku! Let go of me!”

“Breathe! Use your legs! Please, hurry!”

You take a deep, shuddering breath, worming your legs up underneath his torso to try to kick him off. His expression twists, and he lets go of one of your wrists, forcing your legs apart, slotting his body between them. Tears spark in your vision, and you push at his shoulder with your free hand, trying to force him off of you.

“You won’t be able to get him off of you,” The demon says gleefully. Rengoku turns his head, breathing heavily.

“Shut up! I won’t hurt h-” He growls, his pupils dilating even more when he’s injected again. “I’m so sorry.”

He sounds so heartbroken, his voice completely contrasting the roughness of his movements. He pins your wrists above your head with one hand, ripping away your uniform pants with the other, his strength seemingly doubled. Your breath catches in your throat as tears fill your eyes, and when his hand cups your heat, bile rises in your throat.

“NO! Please, Please fight it! Fight it Kyojuro!”

His expression looks pained, and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, the hand on your core twitching.

“I’m trying. I’m trying, dear one,” He murmurs softly. You sob, trying in vain to squirm away from him. “Remember how you were trained. The weak spot in a grip. I can’t let go. I can’t control my body anymore. Give it everything you’ve got. Get away from me.”

You bawl, using every ounce of strength in you to twist your arms out of his grasp.

“My, his resolve is quite strong,” The demon hums, then cackles. “Alright then! I’m sure this next one will do it!”

Rengoku is hit twice more with the thin needles that shoot from the demon’s hands, and he grips your wrists so hard they snap, and you scream out in pain. Apologies flood out of Rengoku’s mouth, but regardless, he leans down and slots his mouth against yours, muffling your cries of pain. The hand against your pussy pulls away, only to return as he slides his fingers up your folds and toys with your clit. The groan that leaves his throat makes you whimper and squeeze your eyes shut in horror. You can faintly hear the demon saying something, but you aren’t sure what it is in your rising hysteria.

He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes also shut tight. One of his fingers pushes inside, and you tilt your hips downward, trying to get away to no avail. He keeps his forehead pressed against yours as he works you open, almost intimately if it weren’t for the situation itself.

“Kyojuro, I’m b-begging you,” Your voice catches, your face wet with tears. “Please, please stop,”

He doesn’t respond, pulling his fingers out of you with a slick sound. Your chest is heaving with sobs now, and you open your eyes to find him languidly lapping at his fingers. He meets your eyes and opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but a twinge of sadness crosses his features, and he presses his forehead against yours again, his eyes closed. You can feel him undo his belt and work his pants off, and whimper helplessly when you feel the hot head of his cock brush against your entrance.

He pushes in slowly, a groan rumbling deep in his chest. He hesitates for only a moment, dragging himself out and thrusting back in. The pace he sets is brutal, and you can do nothing but bawl and squirm as it happens. The only thing that leaves his mouth now are grunts that get louder the faster he goes and heavy breaths that fall hot against your face. He leans down and kisses you again, taking advantage of the noise of surprise you make to slot his tongue into your mouth. You gag, disgusted and horrified, trying to turn your face away. He allows you, trailing kisses along your cheek and up into your hair, his free hand coming up to clutch your hair and pull you closer.

He thrusts in at a particular angle, and an involuntary moan passes your lips. Immediately, you curse yourself. This isn’t enjoyable. This is horrible and sickening, and you would rather the demon just kill you instead of facing one more second of this humiliation. But Rengoku brushes against that spot again, and your legs spread wider to give him better access.

Your orgasm comes out of nowhere, and he rides through it, his stamina not depleting in the slightest. When he pulls back and looks at you, there are tears brimming in his blown out eyes, and his lower lip trembles.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, dear one.” He squeezes his eyes shut again. You let out a sob. His hand digs into your snapped wrists, the earth beneath you poking into your back and head. His free hand snakes into your hair, and he presses himself flush against you, his pace near bruising now. You cum again, crying out his name.

The sky is just starting to lighten when at last, his stamina depletes. He pushes himself all the way in, grunting out something that resembles your name, and cums hard, painting your walls with his seed. Horrified, you squirm, trying to pull away and get him out. Your core aches, your legs are numb, and your wrists are broken to the point of uselessness. Your dignity’s been stolen away, and all you can do is cry when you feel him soften in you. He collapses on top of you, the hand on your wrists finally releasing them. You huff out a sob, trying to nudge him off.

He pulls away, looking like himself again, and gets off of you as fast as possible, glaring over at the demon with newfound determination. He shrugs off his haori, placing it over your lap to cover you up, and stands, unsheathing his sword.

“Haa, you lasted quite a long time.” The demon grins, tilting his head. Rengoku takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “I’m surprised she’s still conscious.

“Your biggest mistake was sticking around,” Rengoku kicks off the ground, turning in the air, and rockets towards the demon, slicing off his arms. In the next moment, the demon’s head is on the ground.

He kneels next to you, looking concerned as he sheaths his sword.

“Can I help you up?”

You cry a little harder, hesitating before nodding your head. The hand that slides behind your back is gentle this time, and he hikes an arm under yours, guiding you to sit and stand. The moment he lets go, your legs buckle, and he catches you.

“Can I carry you, or would you rather have someone else do it?”

“There’s no one else here,” You mumble, so he hoists you into his arms, allowing you to rest your head against his shoulder.

Mercifully, you fall asleep.

#rengoku kyoujurou #kimetsu kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kny rengoku #kimetsu rengoku #kny x reader #hashira x reader #minors dni #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #rengoku x reader

173 notes · View notes

zillennial97 · 3 years

Text

Enemies to Lovers | Larry Fanfic Recs

Walk That Mile by purpledaisy | 149k | Explicit

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes.- A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry | 136k | Explicit

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

we're not friends, we could be anything by nooelgallagher, yoursongonmyheart | 115k | Explicit

Louis narrows his eyes at Harry. “What that supposed to be a fucking joke?”

Harry narrows his eyes right back. “It was a good joke.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Jokes require laughter, Curls.” Louis glances down at Harry’s thighs again, Christ. “Your pants must be so tight they’re restricting airflow to your brain.”

Harry wipes a bead of sweat off his forehead. “Pretty sure yoga is supposed to increase airflow, blood flow, and all that,” he responds dryly, finally jumpstarting himself and walking away from Louis towards his own bedroom.

Louis can’t help but stare at his broad back, still sheen with drying sweat, and his perky bum in the tight yoga pants.

Louis swallows. Christ.

...Or, the one where Harry and Louis are unlikely uni flatmates who definitely don't like each other and definitely won't fall in love (even if Liam and Niall think otherwise).

Our Lives, Non-Fiction by indiaalphawhiskey | 113k | Explicit

Heralded as the next Neil Gaiman, Louis Tomlinson does not appreciate being told that his very serious novel is in dire need of a PR boost. Even worse, that it comes in the form of a joint book tour with the UK’s #1 online romance-writing sensation Marcel Styles. Already turbulent at best, their partnership takes a drastic turn when, overly stressed about his looming deadline, Marcel accidentally blurts out a secret: though he’s famed for his scorching hot literary love scenes, he is, actually, a virgin.

Convinced that the only way to rid himself of writer’s block is to gain some experience, Marcel asks Louis, author-to-author, to sleep with him – for Science. And of course Louis agrees because, well, what on Earth could possibly go wrong?

Or, a lesson in romance that proves that sometimes the best love stories aren’t always by the book.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can't Lose by dolce_piccante | 112k | Mature

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Dance to the Distortion by Lis (domesticharry) | 96k | Explicit

Louis accidentally breaks Harry's camera lens and in order to get it fixed, they decide to participate in a romantic couples study. The only issue is that they are not actually couple. Well that and the fact they cannot stand each other.

You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | 95k | Explicit

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

Or: Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

The Sidelines by RedRidingStiles | 47k | Explicit

"Alright, I know you guys are the best of friends but I'd like you to do this for the rest of the team,” Cowell says, making the rest of the team snicker. "So I want both of you to compliment each other." "I hate your trainers. I mean that in the nicest way possible. They're very...yellow," Louis says, arms crossed as he offers a fake close-lipped grin. "It's really nice of you to blow anyone you find slightly attractive," Harry replies, a sickening sweet smile on his lips. "Thank you, children, let me remind you this is a college hockey team. Try again," Coach says, completely unamused.

Or Harry and Louis play hockey for Penn state and can't stand one another, since they can't keep their hatred off the ice their coach and team do what they can to keep their hard earned spot in the playoffs and their two star players from killing each other

Wonderwall by AFangirlFantasy | 43k | General Audiences

Taking the sheet cluttered with times available for the next few weeks, Louis notices a pattern in the list. The name of the person Perrie had just mentioned: Harry Styles. It’s written at least seven times, and three of which are during timeframes Louis wants.

“Who the fuck is Harry Styles?”

“You’re about to find out,” she answers, pointing over Louis’ shoulder.

Or a Love/Hate College AU where Louis Tomlinson is the lead singer of The Rogue - the most popular band on campus - and Harry Styles is the talented Freshman unknowingly challenging all that.

All the Right Moves by cherrystreet | 32k | Explicit

This is the third game in a row that Harry has been distracted by the noisy boy in the stands, five rows back.

There’s really no reason that he should feel compelled to stare into the audience as frequently as he is, but he can’t help it. This boy is a nuisance. And he’s loud. Even from basketball court with nine other players running by him, shoes squeaking on the shiny hardwood floor, and thousands of cheering college students, Harry can hear this boy nearly shrieking, his laugh more like a cackle than anything.

It’s seriously obnoxious.

Nicotine by KrisStylinson | 32k | Explicit

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

Like Candy In My Veins by littlelouishiccups | 31k | Explicit

“Um…” Harry said slowly after a moment. “Okay. That’s… this is… Let me get this straight.” He lifted up a hand and swallowed. “You told your family that you have a boyfriend… and my name was the first one you thought of?” “Harry Potter was on TV, alright? It wasn’t that much of a stretch.” Louis pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was explaining himself to Harry fucking Styles. He couldn’t believe he was stooping this low. “Forget it. I’m sorry I even thought about bringing you into this.”

Harry snorted. “What? Did you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend or something?”

(Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for.)

We're Like Bumper Cars by sincehewaseighteen | 31k | Explicit

“I have won, I won the final cross country. I win, Harry--”

“Whoever gets to fucking nationals wins it, pretty boy,” Harry teases. “You haven’t won. Interhouse is nothing compared to nationals, or interstate. You haven’t even won interschool. You can dream all you fucking want that you’ve won.”

Louis becomes so ignorant he decides to no longer eye the boy taunting him. “Trophies prove it all, Styles.”

“Where’s your trophy for biggest asshole?”

“Where’s yours for winning cross country?”

Harry growls before hooking his fingers in Louis’ belt loops and bringing them together for a flat kiss.

Or the AU where Louis and Harry are rivals of the century and Cross Country competitors before things get complicated and they play pretend.

After Hours by Velvetoscar for shipsdrifting | 26k | Not Rated

Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are the bane of each other's existences. Unfortunately, they're already in love--even if they aren't completely aware of this minor detail.

[A "You've Got Mail" AU]

When It's Late At Night by Rearviewdreamer | 25k | Mature

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

Love Me Please by angelichl | 23k | Explicit

Louis hates Harry, which is fine because he would really rather prefer to avoid him at all costs.

The only problem?

They're soulmates.

runnin' like you did by orphan_account | 20k | Explicit

“Should we tell him?”

When Lauren is met with everyone either nodding their heads or shrugging, she takes a deep breath. “I mean, I think it’s pretty obvious by now.” She stalls, sounding ominous and Louis doesn’t like it one bit.

“What is obvious by now?” Louis asks. He’s starting getting anxious. “I swear to God, spit it out. Stop being so damn cryptic.”

“I—We think it’s pretty obvious that you’re in love with Harry,” she states simply and shrugs as if she isn’t telling him he’s in love with the second—Nick being the first—most annoying person on the planet.

or, a college au where Louis knows how to hold a grudge and is definitely not in love with Harry Styles

Three French Hems by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews | 20k | Mature

In which Louis is a designer at Burberry and Harry spends December wearing Lanvin… and Lanvin… and Lanvin.

once bitten and twice shy by pinkcords | 19k | Mature

This time as his stomach rolls, there’s no doubt about it. He’s going to vomit. And if he does, it’ll be on Louis’ shoes, a nice little parting gift to go with the embarrassment he’s caused the both of them. “I’m gonna throw up,” he says just as Louis turns to look at him, blue eyes swimming with shock and confusion, and asks, “Is that true?”

Or, in a rush of bravery only senior year can bring, Harry confesses his feelings in a letter to his neighbor and best friend, Louis, only for the entire school to hear it and laugh him out of their small town in Wisconsin. Ten years later, Harry's a successful lawyer at Columbia Records, coming home for Christmas for the first time since he departed for college. He plans to work his way through the trip, eat his mom's cooking, and avoid everyone from his past for as long as possible. The only problem is best laid plans hardly ever go as intended.

That's How I Know by allwaswell16 | 19k | Explicit

Louis Tomlinson has just landed his dream job, coaching soccer at Augustus University. When he moves into a new house near campus, he meets his very fit new neighbor, English professor Harry Styles. Although their first meeting leads to an instant mutual dislike, the more Harry gets to know Louis, the more he likes what he sees.

Or the one where Harry’s African grey parrot spills his dirty secrets to his very hot neighbor.

Get Off of My Cloud by Marora_Daris | 9k | Explicit

Harry is the most annoying neighbour that sexually frustrated Louis could have. Niall decides it's a good idea to handcuff them together.

Featuring guinea pigs, animal print leggings and inappropriate boners.

Erase My History, (Expo)se Me by BayouSexual, pacificrimjob for Edandcurly | 6k | Teen And Up Audiences

“My hair does not smell like strawberries.”

Louis blinks up at Mr. Styles. “I never said your hair smells like strawberries. How would I even know that?” Harry’s hair does smell like strawberries, Harry himself smells like strawberries, everyone who’s been within three feet of him knows this. ~~~~~~~~ Or the one where Harry and Louis both teacher history, their students think they should date, and one pink dry-erase marker is trying to ruin their lives (with a little help of course).

#larry fanfiction recommendations #larry fanfic rec #larry fic #larry fanfiction #larry stylinson #louis tomlinson #harry styles #one direction fanfiction #one direction fanfic recs #larry fanfiction masterpost #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #hate to love #enemies with benefits

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dawsons-justice · 3 years

Text

He Promised, You Trusted.

Part Two to “I Promise, You Trust”

A/N: Reader is between 14-17, so this is a Father Figure!Antonio x Reader. No romance, 100% platonic.

TW: Nothing horribly graphic, some mild angst, but mostly just to lead up to the fluff

Masterlist

It sure was cold outside. Chicago had been cold, but Minnesota somehow was colder. Your aunt had apologized she couldn't pick you up from school but it wasn't really her fault. She had to pick up some extra shifts to keep up with the bills. You're just glad she let you stay with her. 8 months ago, you really had no idea where you would end up.

8 months ago...

Detective Dawson ran off to make some calls, leaving you to your own thoughts. You noticed the worried glances of his coworkers watching you from the unit floor. You didn’t know any of them, they were all sorta intimidating in their own way, well, except for the woman with brown hair, she looked nice. It just felt better to block them out and focus on the mug in your hands. The hot chocolate had gotten cold in the time it took you to process everything and really you haven’t truly processed anything.

Dawson came back in the room, his face muddled with several emotions. There was some stress, determination and anger but you made out the sympathy on his features most of all. Most people don't want sympathy, but you were just glad someone was caring enough to do so. Trailing behind him was another cop, older, you'd seen him before, just didn't know his name.

"You got anyone we can call?" Antonio asks. you had to wrack your brain a bit. It hadn’t occurred to you that this would be important. "I have an aunt. I haven't talked to her in years. My dad and her don't get along."

The two men exchanged a glance. And you understood now. If you didn't find a home yourself, they'd have to put you in a group home. That was not good. You had heard stories, everyone has. Group homes only provide shelter to trouble. If you ended up there who knows what would happen to you after. You hadn’t thought this through, this was a bad idea. In some sort of a desperate plea, you grab the detective’s hand as he’s about the leave with the other guy.

"Wait no no... I can't live in a home. I can't. I'd rather go home to my dad. Please no." Panic evident in your voice. His face softens, kneeling down to your height. He was just going to try to comfort you. You forced yourself to remember whatever he says can’t change the truth. He isn’t the one making the rules. You’re not naive.

"Hey, hey kiddo. Not there yet, let's give your aunt a ring and see if we can get ahold of her. You got a name?" His voice calm, if he was worried you really couldn’t tell now, unlike when he first returned. You gave her name, not knowing anything besides she lived in St. Paul. But they were cops, you figured they could track her down.

The other guy, Voight, left, you heard him call out to someone named Halstead to run your aunt's name. Antonio didn’t move, just kept holding your hand looking around as if he wasn’t. The fact we seemed unbothered by the comforting gesture put you more at ease, yet you still were struggling with this.

"B-but what if she doesn't want me?"

There was a look of disbelief in his face, as if you were made of solid gold. It was fake and you knew it, still, it was comforting. "We're gonna figure it out, ok? I'll tell her myself what a great kid you are."

"I'm sorry."

The detective didn’t have to say anything, but you knew he deflected your apology. Somehow you just knew the minute you said it what his response was going to be. He didn’t feel bothered. And on top of this it was going to work out. He would make sure it worked out.

And it did. Given the explanation of the situation, your Aunt was happy to take you in. Antonio pulled some strings and you spent one night with his colleague Kim Burgess (the woman with the brown hair) before your aunt took over custody. In less than 48 hours you were on your way to Minnesota with a bag you packed and your dad had no clue. For once you knew there was at least one person who was worth trusting in this world.

The snow crunched below your feet. It was only another mile or so to your aunt’s place. The roads were pretty clear. Much of the snow had been packed down for days, but a recent heatwave melted and refroze the roads to solid ice. The deceiving snow was only an inch or two thick on top of the slick icy layer beneath. So, when you hear tires squeal, it is not in any way surprising. You were learning to drive yourself; ice roads were something that even your aunt had trouble managing let alone teach you how to navigate. You had respect for anyone who was able to successfully manage those roads in two-wheel drive. Whipping around, there’s not a two-ton car sliding towards you as you had expected, planning to dive roll into the snow. There’s a black van with a guy in a ski mask running towards you.

Crap.

Taking advantage of the ice, you threw your backpack at him, hoping he’d lose his balance and walk onto the more slippery road. Yet things do not go to plan as he easily recovers and continues to pursue you, reaching you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You fought. You screamed, wailed, bit, flailed, kicked and every other defensive action your subconscious could think of. It didn’t work, he was just too much bigger than you. You were thrown into the back of the van.

no no no no no this can’t be happening.

You considered yourself a calm person, but that was before you were tied and gagged in the back of a van. The darkness seemed to only escalate your fears as you had a blank canvas to imagine your worst nightmares becoming reality. "Please, just let me go” you must have said it 40 times before something heavy hit your head.

Things faded in and out. Darkness and light fought a battle, but you could never really tell if you could see or not, it was all just shadows. The nausea was also coming in waves, paired with the throbbing sensation on the back of your head. You had been pistol whipped. But of course, you didn’t know that. The sheer terror of the entire situation still had you disoriented. You couldn’t feel the time pass, most people know what a minute or five minutes feels like, but you couldn’t focus. It was all too much.

When the van doors slide open you hear the guy who grabbed you talk to whoever was driving. “I still can’t believe this guy.” His gruff voice scoffed, close by.

“Well, he had the money, who are we to judge.”

“Guy? Had someone hired them to take me? Was I about to be sold or something?”

You’re embarrassed to say the next voice you heard brought you half a millisecond of comfort, it was misplaced. “You had to put a sack over her head?” It was your dad. How? Better question why would he ask that question though he had no emotion in his voice.

The men and your dad talk as you wrestle with this entire shock. Suddenly someone picks you up and carries you over their shoulder. You figured it was guy who grabbed you, but feeling that whoever was holding you gently lowered you to the floor, you made the new assumption it was your dad. The blindfold and gag came off in a quick motion. You were met with the hollow face of your father in some sort of abandoned room. He gave a sickening smile, one that brought no relief with it. “I brought you back sugar!”

“Dad, let me go.”

He nodded and started to undo your restraints. It couldn’t be this easy. Taking a moment, he was preoccupied with removing the duct tape glue from your arms, as if he cared, you jumped up, running across the room to open the metal door, but it was locked.

“Open the door, dad.”

“Y-you’ll just leave.” He whimpered, face looking offended.

This wasn’t your dad. The eyes were too hopeful and the demeanor was too caring. This was you dad having some sort of a mental breakdown. The pieces came together as you watched the tremors in his hands. Not knowing the man in front of you felt more terrifying than the man you ran away from. Before, you knew somewhere buried deep in his subconscious he would never seriously harm you beyond some bruises. But you stared into eyes you didn’t recognize. It was entirely possible he was going to kill you. All of that mess 8 months ago just to end up dying in Chicago and nobody knows about it.

But that’s where you were wrong.

Within a 25 mile radius…

“Detective Dawson,”

The somewhat uncaring police deputy at St. Paul started running down the situation. There wasn’t much to tell. Your backpack was found in a snowbank near some blood in the snow with you nowhere to be found. Your aunt had been adamant that the deputy at the front desk reach Antonio. And of course, the detective roped his unit into the situation. Voight made it a priority. It didn’t take a psychologist to see that Antonio cared about you, he cared about all his teen CIs. They were his secondary kids. He would find you, even if he hadn’t promised you to do so. He promised himself. When word had come in that your dad had been behind the entire situation it was not much of a shock. A man with a past of petty crime and domestic abuse with mental health concerns did seem like a high probability suspect. He had also rented out a storage container on the industrial side of town. Antonio and his team suited up. He was going to end this situation here and now.

“CHICAGO PD OPEN THE DOOR”

In a frenzied craze, your father throws you to the floor. It would make sense for him to run, but logic wasn’t a key factor right now. His foot goes to your neck and the gun points to your head. The gun must have been on his back, you hadn’t seen it until now.

I don’t want to die.

Not like this.

Not here.

Please no.

Please.

Bursting through the door you make out several people with weapons drawn on your dad. Light floods the dark room leaving the two of you partially blind, yet the tension still filled the air.

“LET HER GO.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order. Regardless, your neck was still being crushed. Air was slowly waning from your lungs. And then it wasn’t. In an instant you felt his foot roll out from over you, giving you a chance to scramble away.

“Y/N, Y/N, it’s ok. We’re police.”

And that was likely the only time anyone from your side of town was happy to hear that phrase. But still, you couldn’t quite comprehend it. It was a full mess of tears, screaming, wailing and shaking. You had been mere seconds from death by gun or choking, you couldn’t just suck it up. Not even you were that badass. Nonetheless, the cops weren’t getting anywhere with calming you down.

“Call an ambo.” Calls another voice, a woman. “Tonio, you ok?”

“Yeah” And under normal circumstances you would have connected the dots, but as it has already been overly reiterated, you were not stable right now. The only thing you could register was the familiar hand on top of yours gently squeezing your arm below.

“Shhh shhh, it’s ok kiddo, we got you. He’s gone.”

Hold it, you know that voice.

And what would you know, you finally grasped it. Staring down at you is Detective Dawson, once again saving your neck, literally. It was probably against some rule, but you just buried your head in his shoulder trying to block out everything outside. He let it slide, just holding you there, seemingly not in any rush to move you till the paramedics arrived. In time you realized the other officer trying to calm you down had been Burgess, but you just hadn’t recognized her. You’re in pain, but not horrendous amounts, must be the adrenaline. Regardless, Antonio calls another officer, Atwater, to carry you outside to the ambulance. Before you know it, the ambo is driving away from the scene to Chicago Med, leaving the Intelligence Unit to deal with the aftermath including Dawson.

Sitting in the ER, you wait for test results to return on your head scan. More had happened in the last 12 hours than in the last 8 months. You realized how much you liked the simplicity and (relative) safety of Minnesota, but now you’d at least carry pepper spray. You’re pulled from your thoughts as you see Dawson peak from the side of the curtains. You had not felt too lonely or afraid before given the officers stationed outside your room, but seeing him made you feel better.

“Hey kiddo, how’s the neck?” he smiles, moving into the room slowly as if he was trying not to scare you.

You smile weakly, still exhausted. “Alright, considering.” You noticed tape on the base of his neck on one side extending underneath his shirt where you couldn’t see. “What happened?”

“I might be getting a little long in the tooth for tackling suspects.” And by suspects, you knew he meant your dad. He was the one who got him off you. “Are you ok?” You ask. “All good, just had to get my shoulder checked out.”

“Ok, glad you’re ok.” And you truly were. You would feel awful if you had been the reason he had been seriously injured, especially after you were supposed to be out of his hair.

He nods, fiddling with his hands on the rail at the end of your bed. “Hey, your aunt is on her way to get you, it’s gonna be awhile, but I talked to your doctor and they said they’ll keep you till she arrives to monitor your concussion.”

You nod. “My dad?”

“We got him, he’s going away for a long time.” You notice his lack of enthusiasm in that response, obviously thinking that justice had not been fully served.

“But not forever.” Your voice soft, barely over a whisper.

He shook his head. “Long enough you’re not going to need to worry about him.”

“But you’ll come rescue me again if he tries, right?” You cocked an eyebrow, knowing it wasn’t a promise he could make, but every reassuring thing he told you made you feel better anyways.

“As much as I love the job, I don’t know if I’m going to be on the force in 40 years.”

“Yeah, you might not be able to a shoot a gun while using a walker with tennis balls on the bottom.” The two of you laugh a bit at that visualization.

As you quiet down you notice he looks a bit more serious.“But yeah, I’ll get you.”

Once again, probably against some protocol, but you just had to reach out and hug him burying your face in his leather jacket. He leans forward to pull you in. Something about it was just natural, you knew he’d protect you, you knew that now.

“Thank you so much. I’d be dead.”

“Of course,” He pets your hair, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“T-thank you for caring.” He pulls back to look you in the eyes.

“I checked your record, no priors since you left. Thank you for being worth it.” He smiles.

The two of you sit there for a minute, staring at each other, his hand still the (good) side of your head. You’d never really had a dad moment like this, but if this was the first and last dad moment you ever had, you were ok with it. It was perfect. He stands up, stretching out his back as if he’s about to leave. But instead, he pulls up a chair.

“You don’t mind if I stick around till your aunt arrives do you?”

You gently shook your head. Truth was, you were too afraid to ask him to do so, but of course, somehow, he knew what you needed. So there the two of you sat. Talking about the extremely normal things you had been involved in back in Minnesota. You swear he kept a small smile on his face the entire time. Just happy to see you moving on. It was done.

When you turned 18, you reached out the Antonio again and asked if he would be willing to meet up for lunch, now that it was “legal” to do so. And now it has become an annual event with occasional bonus trips when you somehow wind up in the Windy City. Your lives may have grown apart in distance but something would always keep the two of you together. He’d always be there for you, and you needed that. Maybe not everyone needs a perfect father figure to survive in the world, but knowing a tough boxing detective would be by your side in one phone call gave you the freedom of safety. Your aunt is an amazing woman, but Antonio Dawson is really the one who you owe everything to.

He promised, you trusted, and it was the first decision of your life that truly mattered.

A/N: I know my presence on this account is sporadic, but I hope some people enjoy this. I’m going to dive into my drafts to work on some of the partially written responses I have for some old requests. (:

#antonio dawson #antonio dawson x reader #Chicago PD #one chicago #antonio dawson imagines #antonio dawson imagine #antonio dawson baby #fanfiction #fandom #fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Painted Windows 13

Warnings: dubcon/noncon sexual acts, violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, (handjob, masturbation)

This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Bucky surprises you. Then you surprise yourself.

Note: Thanks to everyone who has hung in there. I managed to finish this chapter and figured I’d share it with you all after you waited so long. Again, I’m sorry about being all over the place. Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Masterlist

You woke to a tickle along your spine. You shivered and opened your eyes. Bucky’s arm snaked around you and he drew himself against you as he had the night before. He was hard again. He let out a gasp as his erection rubbed against your ass. He wiggled just a little and groaned. You tensed and grabbed his wrist.

“Let me up,” You said quietly.

“Sugar,” He breathed and rubbed your stomach. “How did you sleep?”

“F-fine,” You pulled at him arm but he didn’t seem to notice. “Please, Bucky…”

“Stay,” He purred against your ear as he lifted his head. He kissed your cheek. “It’s okay, sugar.”

You gripped his wrist and he twisted his hand suddenly. His metal fingers grasped your hand as he pushed his arousal against your ass. He sighed at the feeling of your body and guided you onto your back. You looked over at him, your nerves jittering beneath your skin.

He guided your hand across your stomach and to his. You touched the firm muscle and trembled. He slid your hand down and closed it around his cock. You tried to pull away but he was too strong. He began to move your hand along his length. He leaned on his other elbow as he hovered over you.

His lips were just above yours as he whispered. “Don’t stop.”

He squeezed your hand and slowly drew his away. He caressed your hip as he rocked against you. He kissed you suddenly, hungrily, all the while your hand kept going; almost with thought. Was this the soldier?

You turned your head and gulped. “B-Bucky?”

“Mmm,” He nuzzled your cheek.

“Is it you?” You asked as he moaned. “Not…”

He reached down and stopped your hand. “Look at me.”

You turned your head slowly to meet his gaze. His blue eyes clung to yours and the lines around them deepened.

“It’s me…” He hissed. “I am not the soldier.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t…”

He moved your hand again, this time faster.

“I am not the soldier,” He repeated as he led your strokes. “I am not…”

His hand left yours again and he grabbed your chin. He kissed you roughly and forced his tongue past your lips. He growled as he tried to devour you. He parted and rubbed his nose against yours as his finger settled over your throat.

“More,” He demanded. “More.”

You moved your hand faster and whimpered. There was that darkness in his eyes again. You closed yours and he crashed his lips down again. You just wanted it to be over.

He squeezed your throat and pulled back. He pressed his forehead to your temple and his hot breath seared your cheek. His body stiffened and began to shake as his hips spasmed. He let out a snarl as you felt the warmth explode across your thigh and down your hand. You slowed and he twitched wildly in your grasp.

His fingers loosened and you let go of him in shock. He fell onto his back with a sigh. You peeked down at his cum smeared across your palm and thigh. You were sickened as it cooled on your skin. You sat up and he caught your arm.

“I gotta… get cleaned up,” You said.

He looked you over and a smirk threatened to curve his lips. He released you and dragged his fingers over his stomach and shivered. You turned your legs over the edge of the bed and stood. You walked slowly around the bed.

“You will know the soldier when he comes.” Bucky warned.

You stumbled slightly at his tone but didn’t dare to look back. You scurried into the bathroom and closed the door. Your hand shook as you twisted the faucet and began to wash away the mess. You stared at yourself in the mirror as you wiped clean your thigh and tossed the tissue in the toilet bowl.

Your fingers returned to your thigh and crawled lower… curiously. You dipped between your legs and felt the wetness that had gathered there. That was you, not him. You winced as you tickled your clit and a thrill rolled up your back. You repeated the motion and it happened again.

You glanced at the door and listened. You heard no movement on the other side. You gripped the edge of the sink and spread your legs wider. You pushed your fingers between your folds as you explored your cunt. You swirled around the slickness around your clit and circled your fingertips. You flicked faster and faster as the sensation spread to your thighs and hips. More intense with each touch.

You held your breath as you closed your eyes. You were back on the forest floor, a heavy weight over you. Steve had you pinned as his blue eyes peered into yours. In your head, it was his hand between your legs. His heavy breaths that bounced around you. It was him. You could smell him, feel him.

Your eyes shot open as you came. You watched yourself in the mirror, appalled and shocked. You quivered and pulled your hand from between your legs. You shut the faucet off as you tried to catch your breath. That was wrong. Steve was a friend, he wasn’t that. But you had kissed him and he hadn’t resisted.

But he also hadn’t kissed you back.

You sniffed and gripped your head. The door opened and surprised you. You dropped your hands and turned to Bucky as he peeked in at you.

“Hey,” You squeaked. “I was… gonna take a shower.”

“Sure, sure,” He smiled as he made no move to enter. “It might be a good idea. We have a visitor on his way.”

Your eyes rounded and you blinked. He chuckled.

“Just Steve,” He said. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Uh, well, I guess,” You replied.

“Good,” He said. “I just gotta go do a few things before he gets here. Okay?”

“Okay,” You breathed.

“I’ll be back soon,” He promised and backed out of the bathroom.

You stared at the door as he pulled it shut. Would Steve tell him about the forest? He said he wouldn’t but his loyalty might not be so strong to some girl he barely knew. A girl who didn’t know herself. But he was good. You knew he was. You could see it in him. He must be good because he was your only hope.

You scrubbed yourself frantically. Scratched away the filth of your guilt as the hot water scourged your skin. You didn’t know what was worse; his touch or your own. Or even your fleeting thoughts; your lurid fantasy of a man you barely knew.

When you emerged from the steamy bathroom, Bucky was gone. You were relieved by his absence. That feeling was odd. You glanced around and walked the perimeter of the room, your towel knotted above your chest. You peered out the window and turned back to the messy bed. You tidied it and rounded to the other side.

You bent to the bottom shelf of the bookshelf and slipped out the square box. You slid the lid off carefully and pulled out a square of red paper with white stars speckled across it. You returned the box to its place and grabbed the pen from your notebook. Your nerves were wild as you placed the sheet on the night table and bent over it, your back to the door.

‘Steve. I’m afraid. Please take me away from here before he can hurt me. Dora.’ You drew a little heart and placed the pen down.

You couldn’t think of what else to say. There was too much you could say. Too much to explain on the square of paper. It would have to do until you had a chance to tell him more. If you had the chance. If he didn’t reveal your little sojourn to Bucky or you attempted, if pathetic, flight.

You folded the paper with trembling fingers. You sharpened each bend with your fingernail and turned and flipped the page until it was a springy little front. You pressed down on its reat and it did a little hope. You examined it, assured that your messy scrawl did not show, and placed it with your line of animals along the shelf.

You dressed carefully. You chose a blue dress that went to your knees, the pleated skirt cinched at your waist, and the cap sleeves puffed above your shoulders. You pulled on a pair of frilly white socks and for a moment, you felt absurd. Almost like a living doll. You neatened your hair in the mirror and tried to smile at yourself. At Dora.

You returned to the room and heated a bowl of water until it was boiling in the microwave. You still lacked a proper stove. You filled the teapot and added several bags of breakfast tea. You distracted yourself by setting the table with three cups. A little tea party.

You were dazed as you looked down at the spread. You weren’t in that room anymore, but another one. Brighter, with yellow walls and pink cushions set around a plastic table. A stuffed elephant to your left and raggedy ann to your right. The cups were empty and painted with flowers.

You snapped back as the lock on the door clicked and you looked up as Bucky entered. His dark hair was pulled back in a bun and his beard was freshly trimmed and combed. He was followed by another. You held back a smile as Steve’s golden locks peeked over the darker head.

“I made tea,” You announced proudly.

“Very good, sugar,” Bucky said as he looked around.

“Hi, Steve,” You felt your cheeks warm as he smiled at you.

“Hey, Dora,” He neared the table and touched the rim of one of the cups. “What kind of tea?”

“Green,” You answered. “I didn’t have any black left.”

“I’ve never had green tea,” He pulled out a chair and sat. Bucky continued to walk around the room. “But I’d love to try it.”

You poured a cup for him and he drew it close. He inhaled the gentle scent and watched the steam rise.

“Steve said you behaved when I was gone,” Bucky stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “You understand that you have to listen to him as much as you listen to me.”

“Of course,” You filled a cup for yourself. “Do you want any tea, Bucky?”

“No,” He said as he kept staring into the yard.

“You…” You hovered around the table as you set the pot down. “You didn’t even notice what we made.”

“Hmm?” Bucky looked over his shoulder with a slanted brow.

“I made you a wolf,” You took the grey paper from the row.

He turned entirely and stared as you held up the animal. He squinted.

“Steve brought me some nice paper,” You explained. “So we made these.”

“Oh,” He nodded and spun back to the window.

“Oh, Steve,” You put the wolf back and took the freshly folded frog. “You forgot yours.”

You set it beside his cup as he pressed his fingertips to the warm porcelain. His brows lowered as he considered the frog but he took it nonetheless. He made it hop a few times.

“I did forget,” He said. “Thank you.”

“I like to practice,” You sat. “If you unfold it and refold it, it’s easier to remember.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve took the frog and smiled again. He tucked it carefully in his front pocket just below his jacket. The brown leather was aged and cracked around the seams.

“Well, aren’t you staying?” You wondered as you gestured to his coat.

“It’s sunny out,” Bucky said sharply as he turned and marched across the room. “We thought it would be a good day for a walk.”

“A walk?” You blinked dumbly as you looked between them. “I don’t--”

“Steve is right. You need sunlight. It’s not fair to keep you pent up all the time. Not like this.” He sighed as he leaned on the chair. “But you have to be good, you understand?”

“Good?” You echoed. “I am… good.”

“You are, sugar,” He assured you. “But it can be overwhelming. Going out after so long.”

You nodded and thought as you leaned your chin in your hand. You glanced at Steve and he sipped from his cup. He hadn’t told Bucky what you did. He really was your friend.

“Can we have a picnic?” You asked. “I can make some sandwiches.”

Bucky took a breath and tapped his toe.

“It’s still cold out,” He warned.

“I’ll wear a sweater.” You said. “Please. I… want to watch the birds. I want to smell the air and see the sunlight. Please, Bucky.”

“I think a picnic sounds fun,” Steve intoned. “I remember we had one back in France. Right before this big mission. We could hear artillery as we sliced the cheese…”

“Fine,” Bucky shrugged. “But you remember to listen.”

“I will,” You folded your hands together. “I promise.”

#Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #painted windows #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #au

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marybethsjournal · 3 years

Text

Fare You Well, Dear Sean

Summary: Karen finds out what happened to Sean in Rhodes

Pairing(s): Sean Maguire x Karen

Warning(s): kidnapping (Jack), major character death, religion talk, reference to vom!t, vague thoughts of suicide, super vague implication of pregnancy(?)

Word Count: 1749

A/N: To the anon that asked for Karen x Sean fluff, this is not it lol. Yours is coming, but this is just pure sadness

Also, here’s the link to the song from RDR2 that inspired my title: https://youtu.be/S5N-nLY32KA

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29829786

Today was absolute chaos. It had started out normal enough. Karen had woken to Sean shaking her wildly just like she always did when he actually made himself useful and went on a job outside camp. He thought she cared so much about what he was doing for the day. He hadn’t gotten the hint that she didn’t care. Well maybe she cared just a little… but not much! She knew that he wanted her to be impressed and think that he was some sort of hero, but Karen had a strict rule against getting impressed by stupid men. Especially stupid men named Sean Maguire.

“Miss Jones! Wake up and give your suitor a kiss goodbye!”

“In your dreams, Sean.” Karen mumbled, opening her eyes and swatting her hand at him.

“I always was told I’m a dreamer. My da-”

“No, not today. Too early.” Karen cut him off. Sean’s face fell for half a second, barely detectable, before a smile was plastered on his face again.

“You’re right, it is early. You know what they say, though, the early bird gets the worm! Sad to say that my worm-” Sean was going down a path that Karen did not like the looks of.

“Sean! That’s disgusting!” Sean laughed, glad he was able to get a reaction out of her. Any attention from Karen was good attention, at least in his mind.

Karen patted the ground next to her, signaling for him to sit. “Where you boys off to today, then?”

Sean's face lit up as he sat down next to her, happy to be able to tell of the important job that he was going to go on today, “The Grays need security so naturally they called upon Dead Eye Maguire. Nothing gets past me! I could do it by myself, you know, but I decided to let Bill, Micah, and Arthur on the job. Poor boys needed something to do.”

Karen rolled her eyes at the inflated story Sean just told, but upon hearing that Micah would be there, she felt her instincts screaming that this job wasn’t such a good idea. All of Micah’s plans were terrible, truth be told, but Dutch thought differently, for some reason. “Be careful, alright. I don’t trust Micah as far as I can throw him.”

“Ahhh he’s a bastard but he ain’t got nothing on ol’ Sean Maguire. Don’t you worry your pretty little mind about that.”

Karen sighed, remembering that anytime she expressed any concern, Sean’s ego grew. “Forget I said anything.”

A silence, neither particularly comfortable or uncomfortable, grew between them. Karen thought that for once, maybe Sean was just going to leave her alone and go on about his business. But then he wouldn’t be Sean.

“Can I have my kiss now?” Sean puckered his lips and leaned forward. Karen could hardly find it in herself to not slap him.

“Hell no. Go bother someone else.” She tried to shoo him but he wouldn’t leave, not that she particularly expected him to.

“I know you love me, you should just stop fighting and admit it. I’m irresistible”

“I wish I was resistant to you”

“You’ve got to stop wishing such pain onto yourself,” Sean paused for a second before remembering something that he apparently deemed far more important than further pumping up his ego. “You feeling better today?”

Karen sighed. No she was not feeling better, not at all. She’d been feeling worse and worse every day since she had first fallen ill a little over a week ago. She appreciated Sean asking but didn’t feel like worrying him (and she especially didn’t want to confide in him about what she thought may be causing his illness). “Maybe a little. I’m fine, I promise.”

“Karen, you puked on my shoes last night.” Sean pointed out.

“Ugh, okay, maybe I’m not fine, but I will be. I’ll be alright, Sean.” Karen’s tone grew softer at the end.

“I’ll pick you up some cola syrup in town. Maybe that’ll help?”

“That’s not gonna make me kiss you, Sean.” Karen teased.

“I know. Just want to help, is all.” Sean took Karen’s hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Cause I love you, I really do.”

Karen sighed, feigning exasperation. “Oh alright, come here, you.” She pulled Sean in for a quick kiss. It lasted no more than two second but it was more than enough to make Sean happy.

“See everyone, she loves me!” Sean yelled way too comfortably for Karen. He was practically floating on air, skipping across camp.

Sean had already gotten up onto his horse before Karen yelled back at him,”I do not, you ass!”

Several hours later, the whole gang had turned to chaos. Something had happened to Jack, he was nowhere to be seen. Karen had thought woefully that when no one was watching, maybe he had tried to go swimming in the lake and had drowned. The thought sickened her. But soon enough, Kieran came forward and said he had seen some men come by and had thought they were coming for a meeting. Since no meeting had taken place, it was then assumed that someone had taken Jack. Karen hoped against hope that he was safe.

Karen, trying desperately to comfort Abigail, barely noticed when Micah, Arthur, and later on, Bill returned to camp. And she certainly didn’t notice that Sean didn’t join them. It wasn’t long after Bill returned, however, that Reverend approached her, a solemn look in his eyes.

“Miss Jones, I need to take you somewhere private to talk.” he grabbed for her hand.

“Are you crazy, you drunk bastard? Jack is gone! We all need to help look.”

Reverend’s face changed to a look of pity, which made Karen’s heart sink. She didn’t know what had happened, but something was terribly wrong.

“You’re right, we need to look for Jack, but I still need to talk to you first.”

“Alright.” Reverend led her over to one of the far sides of camp, next to a wagon. Karen grew more uncomfortable with every passing second

“Karen,” Reverend started, “The boys went into town to see the Grays this morning.”

“I know that already!” Karen interrupted impatiently.

“It was a setup. They shot Sean.” Reverend bowed his head.

“Well where is he? I’ll go to the doctor to see him, right now. I’m sure he’ll want to see me.” Karen rambled quickly.

“No, you don’t understand. He um, well he passed. Bill told me earlier and said there was nothing they could have done.”

Karen backed away from Reverend, her hands shaking. “No, no. That-no” She didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m really sorry, we all cared so much about him.” Reverend awkwardly hugged her. She normally didn’t like physical affection, but she didn’t want anyone to see the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. This couldn’t be happening. Sean hadn’t done anything to deserve this.

“Bill buried him, nice and proper, he said. I’m going over there now. Couldn’t read him his last rites, but hopefully I can still pray over him for a safe journey to Heaven. I’ve got to at least try. I’d like for you to come along, if you can find it in you.”

“Of course I can find it in me!” Karen cried.This was her last chance to say goodbye and there was no way she was going to pass it up.

Reverend helped Karen up onto the wagon and they went on their way. They sat in mutual silence, save for Karen’s soft crying, for most of the ride. Karen didn’t feel up for conversation, understandably.

When they were getting close to Sean’s final resting place, Karen finally broke the silence.

“God, I hope he didn’t hurt for long.”

“Bill said they blasted a bullet straight through his skull, so I’m sure he died immediately. Didn’t see it coming.” Reverend responded, without thinking much over how his words might impact Karen.

“Oh my god don’t tell me that!” Karen sobbed, placing her hand over her face.The sentiment made her feel sicker to her stomach than she already had been that morning. This had to be the worst day of her life, no contest.

“I’m sorry Karen-”

“I think I’m gonna be sick”

“Hold on, we’re almost there.” Reverend assured her.

A moment or so later, they arrived at a little patch of grass, shaded by trees that overlooked Flat Iron Lake.

“Sean! No no no!” Karen jumped off the wagon and ran to the grave before the horse had made a full stop. She collapsed in front of the grave and cried harder than she had ever remembered doing in the past.

“I know it’s hard, but he’s in a better place now.” Reverend said in an attempt to console her. “You think?” Karen asked between broken sobs.

“Yes, I really do.” Reverend told her, kneeling down and patting her on the back.

Karen, while sitting through Reverend’s prayers for Sean, recalled how poorly she had treated him. She was the worst girlfriend, or whatever she was to him, in the world. No sooner had Reverend said “Amen” before she looked at the cross, which had Sean’s name engraved on it and began rambling.

“I’m sorry I called you an ass. I really didn’t mean it, I swear. I love you, I can’t believe I didn’t tell you, God I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Karen, he knew. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that he knew that.” Reverend assured her genuinely.

“You promise?” Karen looked back at him, her eyes full of tears and puffy from crying.

“Of course. He’s probably watching over you right now. And I think he’d want you to be strong.”

“I don’t want to be strong. I want to be with him.” In fact, the last thing in the world that Karen wanted to be was “strong”. She was pretty sure she didn’t even have it in her.

“Here, Bill found Sean’s satchel. You can keep it if you like.” Reverend picked up the small bag from the other side of the tree and handed it to Karen.

Karen's hands shook as she opened the satchel. Inside was a wad of money, a half eaten chocolate bar, an unfinished letter he’d written to her that was dated back when he had been taken prisoner by Ike Skelding’s bounty men, an Emerald ring, and the Cola syrup he’d promised her that morning.

#rdr2 #RDR #rdr2 fic #sean maguire #karen jones #sean x karen #Red Dead Redemption #red dead fanfic

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let-me-love-you-loki · 3 years

Text

Too Late for R & R-Part 1

Part 1

Mattie

It was different than being in the ring with Dad and Papa. They’d trained me for this since I was seven. For a while, I thought they’d put me on TV right away. Of course, none of them saw it that way. I had to earn it, just like everyone else in the business. There would be no network TV debut right off the bat. There were warmup matches and squash matches and practice on the mic. No matter how good I was, everyone knew I wasn’t ready for the big show. Not yet.

But I still trained with Dad and Papa, Uncle Kenny and Adam. Sometimes even Chuck and Trent would jump in if they had to go off to do something. Once, Arn Anderson even got in the ring with me. It was amazing. And being a Jackson meant something—just like being a Rhodes—but it didn’t mean I could get away without earning my stripes.

Uncle Kenny was the one who offered me a spot. Dad made sure that I understood that, if I signed it, I would be working for Tony and Uncle Kenny. They would be my bosses. They would be the ones who decided when I wrestled, where, and who. I could offer ideas, I could make suggestions and work on my character, but they had the final say. Dad and Papa wouldn’t be asking for special favors for me, and I shouldn’t think I’d get any.

“In fact,” Dad had said to me right before I signed the contract, “they’re going to expect more from you because you’re a Jackson.”

I debuted on Dark as a partner and valet for one of the newly signed guys. His went by Alex Wonder, and he’d been brought on to join the revived Team Taz. He was like me—basically unknown on the wrestling scene—but he had an amazing talent. He was a heel, and Uncle Kenny said I needed to stretch my acting muscles. I wouldn’t be a babyface all the time, after all.

Alex was fighting Orange Cassidy in the opening match of Dark. They’d developed a tiny feud that was enough to tell a story. I wasn’t quite sure how I fit in with the whole storyline just yet, but we were working on it. Still, I’d come out with him, dressed in a pair of grey skinny jeans, Jordans, and a strappy black top. My job was to look good and distract the referee and his opponent as much as possible.

I figured I could do that.

***

I could feel my heart thumping out of my chest as I sat ringside to watch the match. It was late—going on midnight—and filming for the next week’s episode of Dark had been delayed in starting. The long minutes of waiting didn’t help my anxiety one bit. There were so many things that could go wrong, even though I knew Mattie wouldn’t be seeing any real wrestling action for a while. As a mother, I wanted her to succeed at her dream, but I was also terrified of what might happen when she chased after it for good. Being a wrestling wife twice over was one thing, but adding in being a wrestling mom… I didn’t know if my heart could take it.

“She’s going to be fine, Mama,” Matt said from the chair beside me. We sat near the barrier that separated the audience from the ring. We were in Daily’s Place with a small crowd—minute really—so it wasn’t too hard to hear him. He had a brace on his knee, a support for the healing ACL. Nick and I had finally convinced him to get the surgery to repair it a month before. After all, the Young Bucks had slowed down a little in recent years, and it wasn’t a huge deal for him to be out for nine months.

“Trust us,” Nick murmured from behind me. He squeezed his hands on my shoulders and dropped down to press a kiss to the top of my head. I could sense the nerves running through him. They matched my own.

We watched as the match began. Mattie was leaning against the apron with her attention focused on what was going on. I could see her watching, taking in every move and step and spot. She watched Alex Wonder carefully, as if his safety was in her hands. In a way, it was. She paced around the corner, coming closer to us. I could see Matt in the set of her jaw and Nick in the earnestness of her eyes.

The action spilled out to ringside. Mattie did a good job of staying out of the way. She distracted the referee so Alex could get a cheap shot in. Cassidy bounced off the ropes and came bounding back across the ring. He reached out and grabbed the ropes as he fell into a baseball slide. In the same moment, Alex grabbed Mattie by the shoulders and yanked her in between him and the oncoming Cassidy.

I saw the flash of panic on Mattie’s face as she flung her arms out in front of her. She turned, her left leg forward. I saw the moment when Cassidy realized he was too deep into the move to stop. My heart leapt into my throat as I let out a scream. “Mattie!”

Nick

Slow motion. That’s what it felt like as I watched Cassidy slide at speed beneath the bottom rope and ram straight into my daughter. Her arms were locked out in front of her, palms out, left leg locked in front to bear her weight. I could see what was about to happen before it did.

When they collided, I didn’t know who was screaming louder, Mattie or her mother.

I moved before I could think. I vaulted over the security rail, not caring if I took the camera guy with me. All I could think was that I had to get to my daughter. I shoved down the nausea that tore through me as I raced around the side of the ring. The match stopped the referee Alex, and Cassidy gathered around a body on the floor at ringside. I skidded along the mat, practically tossing people out of the way in my terror.

“Tea,” I said frantically, shoving Cassidy to the side. Alex hovered just out of reach—smart on his part. I’d have knocked him out if he’d been close enough.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Nick… we didn’t plan that spot…” Cassidy said, sounding heartbroken. As if he were going to be just as sick as me. He’d known Mattie since she was a baby. He’d probably hate himself if she were seriously hurt. A second later, he glared at Alex Wonder with murder in his eyes.

“Mattie,” I said again, crawling closer until I was right beside my daughter, Doc Sampson knelt on her other side, his hands gently probing her left wrist and her right leg. I didn’t need him to tell me. Her left leg was twisted at an odd angle. White bone and bloody gore pushed through the skin of her left forearm. Her face was splotchy, alternately crimson and ashy pale. “Mattie.”

“We need to get her to the hospital,” Doc Sampson said. He glanced at my daughter’s arm and then back at her leg. “I think she’s got at least one break there.”

My eyes burned, and I couldn’t stop myself from crying. Tears poured down my face as I hovered over my first-born child. Her face was a mask of pain and terror. It was amazing that she hadn’t passed out or gone into shock yet. Doc Sampson was on the walkie to backstage. A gurney rolled out from the back, medics pushing people out of the way.

I looked up and back. Y/N and Matt were at the railing, watching with faces almost as white as Mattie’s. Matt was on crutches, unable to get close. Our wife was frozen with terror, her worst nightmares coming true.

“Go tell them we’re going to the hospital. Get security, and get them out of the crowd as fast as possible,” I ordered Cassidy. He nodded, still looking as if he were either going to puke or rip Wonder apart with his bare hands, then practically ran toward the spot where my brother and our wife waited.

Matt

I kept one arm around Y/N’s waist, knowing that if I let go, she would hit the floor. I could see it in the ghostly pallor of her face and the fact that she barely looked to be breathing. “It’s okay, Y/N. It’s okay.”

Cassidy came closer, his face alternately angry red and sick green. I could already see him blaming himself for what happened. He’d barely opened his mouth to speak when I heard the sound of my brother’s rage-filled voice.

“Stupid, dumbass prick! Careless asshole!” Half a breath later the distinctive sound of two stiff hits echoed through the quiet. Wonder’s hands moved reflexively, coming up toward his face, but he hit the ringside mat before he could realize what happened. Nick moved toward the back with purpose, the knuckles of his right hand busted open and bloodied. He held it still, as if he had hurt himself.

A pair of security guards appeared behind us, clearing a way for us through the sparse crowd. I cursed under my breath, hating the way the crutches slowed me down. How it slowed my wife down. I knew her as well as I knew anyone else, and I was certain that she was panicked beyond recognition. Her greatest fear had been that one of us would get hurt. I’d always though it would be me or my brother. I never stopped to think that it would be my daughter.

By the time we made it out of Daily’s Place and into the lot, the ambulance had already driven away with Nick in the back with Mattie. Our rental car had been brought to the curb. Y/N trembled as she got behind the wheel. Her fingers clenched the steering wheel until her knuckles were white, skin stretched thin. I didn’t want her to drive—she had to be in shock—but I was useless. I couldn’t drive with my knee.

“Move,” someone said from by the driver’s door. I looked across my wife to see Adam Page standing there. “I’ll drive, Y/N. You’re in no state to.”

Adam caught my eye, his face a mixture of pure rage and sickening worry. I knew it was an expression mirrored by my wife and I. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was worn by everyone in the back. They’d all known Mattie since she was little.

He helped Y/N out and into the back. Just before he shut the door, shouts came from the arena exit. Kenny came racing across the lot, tugging a shirt on over his head as he ran, Brandon on his heels. They slid in on either side of my wife in the back seat, huddling close and slipping their arms around her. Adam gunned it from the parking lot and practically fishtailed into the street. The moment he could, Adam pushed the car to near ninety and my wife fell apart, sobbing so hard that she could hardly breathe. I twisted in my seat to take her hand, lacing our fingers together while Kenny and Brandon did their best to hold her together.

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it @not-that-kinda-gurl08 @lilred91 @imagineall-the-fandoms @maelleoute @librathepheonix13 @justamess44

#too late tales #the too late tales #matt jackson #nick jackson #young bucks #matt jackson fanfiction #nick jackson fanfiction #young bucks fanfiction #aew #aew fanfiction #polyamory #polyamorous relationships #wrestling #injury #real person fanfiction #matt x reader #nick x reader #matt x reader x nick

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littlemisssquiggles · 4 years

Note

i now a lot off ppl n the fndm dont like rg caz they think there a big difference btween a 15 year old an a 17 year old but i think that ppl overlook that oscar smart 4 his age and i wouldn't be shocked if like ruby he got to skip a few grades but i get the feeling other would still see rg as a problem even if oscar was the same age as ruby or even if it was 2 year age gap and it was just a year or a few months

*insert the world’s longest exasperated groan right here* With all due respect anon-chan but…I really don’t want to get into the whole 2 year age difference with Rosegarden topic again since, pardon my language here, but I am honestly fucking tired of seeing it as a legit popular complaint against the ship.

Mind you, this has nothing to do with you, fam. I’m not lashing out at you personally.

It’s just that regarding the topic at hand, I’m just REALLY, REALLY fed up of seeing this dead horse being beaten repeatedly by all the antis who make it their mission to constantly harp on Rosegarden and its shipping community for it.

Oscar and Ruby are two years apart. If Ruby just turned 17 as of V7 then surely Oscar is on the cusp of turning 15 at some point, probably closer to V9 or so. If we’re looking in terms of grades---well I’m from Trinidad and Tobago and our education system actually reflects more of the British school system where instead of grades with pre-school, elementary school, junior high school, high school and then college/university, what we have is pre-school, primary school, secondary school and then university will be our tertiary form of education, more or less.

At their current ages from the show, if Ruby and Oscar were in my country, they will both be in secondary school. At age 14 going on 15, Oscar will be in Form 3 (and entering the stage where he is supposed to be choosing subjects for CXC exams) whereas Ruby will be in Form 5 (getting ready to take the CXC exams).

Either way, Oscar will be in Form 3 and Ruby will be Form 5. Ruby will be two forms higher than Oscar. That still doesn’t erase the fact that they are still only two years apart. Just 2 and ONLY TWO.

Do you want to know why I absolutely despise the two year age gap argument against Rosegarden anon-chan?

Because it’s all completely hypocritical. It is hypocritical that certain-certain folks take such strong issue with the 2-year age gap when it comes to the Rosegarden pair but are perfectly fine with it when it comes to the more FNDM-favoured pairs such as Whiterose, Lancaster and Nuts and Dolts. Particularly Whiterose since that is the ship that people seem to THINK Rosegarden is fighting a shipping war against when in actuality, as a Rosegardener, I could care fucking less about entertaining any foolish nonsensical shipping war with anyone.

Again, pardon my use of profanity here. That’s just to express how much I am done with this shit and hearing about it when it comes to my favourite RWBY ship.

While Ruby may be two years older than Oscar, she is also two years younger than Weiss, Jaune and Penny. It’s the same age difference no matter how you spin it. Yet it’s a case where the age gap is only problematic for one ship while being fine for another and that’s the contradiction that irks me.

And y’know what else? You’re actually right about your last statement. The problem that certain-certain folks have with RG ISN’T even about the age difference. It isn’t the real issue and don’t think for one millisecond that it is. Because regardless of whether or not, Oscar was only one year younger than Ruby or one year older than Ruby or even the same age as Ruby---it wouldn’t really matter to certain-certain folks since the issue isn’t really about the age of the characters.

The REAL issue is that certain-certain folks just don’t want Ruby to end up with OSCAR. These people ship Ruby with someone else particularly a certain-certain snow angel, who according to them, has known Ruby longer than Oscar and therefore is entitled to end up with Ruby over him.

Yes, I shit you not, that is an actual claim that I’ve heard against Rosegarden in favour of another certain-certain ship…despite the show never really portraying that particular relationship to be romantic of any kind.

Bottom-line, certain-certain folks feel threatened by the RG ship since the showrunners seem to kinda, sorta, maybe, most likely want to develop the relationship between Ruby and Oscar beyond a friendship or at least they wish to hone in on pushing Ruby’s connection to this our little freckled farm boy to be a lot deeper than the relationship she has with other character and to those certain-certain folks, that’s a problem for them because in their heads, they want the showrunners to only focus on Ruby hooking up with their favoured partner for her…regardless of the series never really portraying that relationship they like to be romantic of any kind.

And THAT is the TRUE conundering conundrum we are in as Rosegardeners. Dealing with these certain-certain folks and their shit.

I’m sorry anon-chan but for future reference (and that goes for anyone else who might be reading this response post) do you mind not bringing up the so-called age gap issue with Rosegarden to me please ^^);

I’m fine with other topics just not this one since I’ve had enough. In the past, I’ve answered similar questions and inbox messages on this same topic and I’ve honestly reached a point where I no longer wish to discuss it at all on my blog.

It’s nothing against you or anyone else who may still wish to talk about this subject. This squiggle meister and squiggly Rosegardening Pinehead just doesn’t want to anymore since…how many times as a Rosegardener do I have to repeat the same information and set the record straight for the same none-troversey as Red Letter Media would put it.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with the Rosegarden pair and wanting to see them be endgame as an adorkable young couple. Certainly not because of their age difference.

Because if Ruby and Oscar can’t be an “alleged” couple because they are two years apart then neither can Ruby get together with Weiss, Jaune or Penny since the gap is the same.

I don’t even want to hear anyone dare mention the Ozpin issue since that’s been debunked too in the show in the Lost Fable episode from V6. So really there are no real arguments that anyone can make against RG that hasn’t already been debunked by a) the fans who pay more attention to the development of the pair in the story than the antis, b) the showrunners and/or c) the actual story in the series.

So the people who keep making a hullabaloo about it---making the same ole noise over the same ole things honestly need to stop. They are embarrassing themselves at this point and it sickens me to see their half-hearted arguments and claims against RG pop up on the tags on social media when I’m trying to enjoy my ship.

Or rather, I’d just need to stop listening to anything the antis say which I have. Or at least I’m trying to. This round for V8, I don’t know about other Rosegardeners, but I want to avoid the discourse like Neo in the Matrix.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

#squiggles answers: rwby #oscar pine #oscar and ruby #rwby rosegarden #Anon-ninja #squiggles answers

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blackbearmagic · 4 years

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Hey 👋 Sterling said you might know about kudzu, it’s magical properties and uses. I’m also concerned about appropriation and don’t want to take from closed practices. Any insight would be much appreciated! Thanks 💜

Howdy hey!

I will preface this by saying that I actually don’t know much about kudzu specifically, because it hasn’t taken root (haha) in my area yet--but I can help you figure it out on your own!

I got into invasivecraft for two reasons: I’m a naturalist with great concern for the impact of invasive species, and I just wasn’t getting anywhere magically with familiar herbs and correspondences. I’d never seen anyone use invasive plants as invasives (ie, a spell bottle would call for mint, but the correspondences of the mint had no link to its growth as an invasive), and the potential appealed to me. I thought that, energetically and spiritually, these plants were probably hugely powerful; there was very little impeding their growth and spread physically, so what would stand up to them metaphysically?

My approach to invasivecraft is two-pronged, and involves science and spirit work. If neither of those is your strong suit, you may need to find your own approach, but if you’re down for at least one of them, my words might be useful.

So here’s the science portion.

To approach kudzu, I would recommend first getting to know the plant from a purely scientific perspective. Research its life cycle. Research its natural history. Learn everything you can about it.

While you’re reading, interact with the living plant. Harvest its parts. Dry it. Eat it. Make teas and tinctures. Burn it as incense.

Disclaimer: Do all your research before putting anything in your mouth. Don’t eat or use parts of plants harvested near roads. Always be aware of the nearest water source; if you wouldn’t drink from it, don’t eat plants that were growing on its banks.

Get a pot of dirt and grow some kudzu. (And never ever ever ever keep that pot outdoors. Invasive plants are only to be grown indoors.) See if you can grow it from cuttings, or roots, or seeds. Observe how it grows. Observe how the leaves come in and the stems spread. Taste different parts of the plant in different stages of growth (if plant is safe to eat). Make notes. Make lots of notes. Absorb as many of the plant’s mundane aspects as you possibly can.

Become an absolute expert on what kudzu looks, tastes, and smells like. Become an expert on where it came from and why it’s been so successful here. Read so many resources on it that you can start to tell that the author of website B clearly based their information off of what they read on website A. Read so much about it that it actually starts to bore you a little.

As you are gaining this understanding of the plant, you will probably start to get a sense of what it might be “good” for magically. I did a decent breakdown here of how I find correspondences, using Giant African Land Snail as an example. Basically, I look at how the plant or animal was introduced to the ecosystem it’s disrupting, how it’s disrupted the ecosystem, and why it’s become so successful. This gives me context on how it became an Invasive Species, which gives me a sense of where its power lies in its new environment. Combine this with the knowledge of how the plant grows, and you will get a very good sense of how it does what it does--and how it might be able to help you.

Now comes the spirit work portion.

This part is based on some SPG among... frankly, I think a lot of people, which is the belief in big, archetypal entities that embody a species of plant or animal, representing all living and deceased members, embodying everything the species was, is, and will be. Some incorrectly refer to them as “totems”; I use the term “species-spirit”.

So you will be meeting the species-spirit of kudzu.

How you go about doing this depends on your experience level and personal practice. If you’re already someone with spirit work experience, just do whatever you normally do to call on/summon/evoke/journey to meet a spirit, and go say hi. If you’re not experienced, you might find meditation--especially guided meditation--to be helpful. Look for one of those “find your spirit animal” ones; they’re appropriative and gross, but they have the same intent as what you’re trying to do.

Going off the example of GALS above, I firmly believe that imported snail shells from the species’ native region would be different energetically and in terms of magical potential than those collected from a region where it’s invasive. I feel that invasive species effectively have two species-spirits--one for the species as a native and one for the species as an invasive. I have only ever worked with Garlic-Mustard-the-Invasive-Species, and I imagine that Garlic-Mustard-the-Native-Species wouldn’t be anywhere near as haughty and stubborn. If you’re looking to unlock the species’ potential in the context of it being Invasive, you should study it and get to know its spirit there. So you may wish to specify that you’re seeking Kudzu-the-Invasive-Species.

So you’ve connected to the spirit of Kudzu. Now what?

Quite simply, start building a relationship with it. You’ve already gathered good information on kudzu; now it’s time to gather information on Kudzu.

Get a feel for its spirit. Is it loud and proud, or is it soft and sinister? Is it friendly? Is it rude? Does it address you in any particular way, and how does that make you feel? (ie, Garlic Mustard addresses me as “mammal”, which... is not wrong. And I’ve been called worse.) Does it want to be addressed in a particular way?

Talk to Kudzu about what it feels its strengths are. What does it feel comfortable helping you with? What does it think it will be best at? How does it think its parts can be best used?

Ask what it wants from you, if anything. Does it want offerings? Does it want to be harvested in a particular way? Are certain parts of it off-limit for magical use? You may have gotten a sense for these things during the Scientific Approach, but really pursue them now.

So that’s how I do things.

I look at invasivecraft as a way to find allies. As a descendant of immigrants and white settlers, I’m something of an invader myself in this land; I feel a kind of kinship with invasive species. Like them, I didn’t ask to be grown here, and I didn’t ask the generations that came before me to make such a terrible mess of things--but I’m here now, and I have resources at my disposal that I would be a fool not to use.

(Unlike every other invasive I’ve met, though, I do feel bad about the many “native species” that my ancestors have displaced, and I do try to minimize my impact on the ecosystem.)

When I do work with invasives, I’m not calling on the energy of the individual plant whose parts I use--I go straight to the species-spirit with whom I’ve made an alliance. When I use garlic mustard root in a spell to get a job, I ask Garlic Mustard to poison the soil for everyone but me. When I use its leaves for protection, I ask it to suffuse me with “bitterness” to discourage or even sicken things that may “eat” my growth. (Invasives do best with... “selfish” magic.) Each invasive I work with has its own unique alliance with me, and unique conditions for getting its help.

Your experience, of course, could be quite different than mine.

If you’d like to try my approach, by all means, do. I used to discourage people from working with invasives because of how powerful they are (and how uncaring they can frequently be), but so long as you take it slow and understand what you’re getting into, you should be fine.

#invasivecraft #witchblr #alexanderthewitch

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anoutlandishfanfic · 5 years

Text

Metamorphosis Ch. 22

The Premise: What if Claire had conceived on her wedding night with Jamie? How would this change the the plot points we all know and love?

Last chapter left a newly rescued Jamie from Wentworth, the lovebirds finally reunited. We pick up shortly after that. You can find more here or on AO3.

Mad props to @thefraserwitch for taking the absolute mess I dumped on you, accurately picked up on what I was trying to get at, and helped me refine it into the magic it is now. She’s a genius and a saint, y’all.

Some time later, Christmas Eve 1743.

We finally came to a rattling stop within the abbey’s inner courtyard and were immediately surrounded by helping hands. A stretcher materialized out of nowhere, toted by the monk who climbed aboard without any sort of official greeting, and everyone seemed to set about transferring Jamie onto it at once.

“Watch his hand,” I hastily urged, leaning forward and reaching out my own to ensure it was positioned stably across his chest as they moved him.

I struggled to my feet in the space just vacated, my spirit longing to bound after them, but my body having another idea entirely and I groaned internally as Dougal offered to help me up.

No. Go away, you fucking vulture.

Dougal had been there, hovering in the background, watching and waiting as we’d made our plans. I’d been wary when he’d volunteered to go to the abbey, sure he was doing everything he could to subvert our mission and would return without a sanctuary secured.

He hadn’t entirely thwarted our plans — for he had gotten the approval we needed — but he also ensured he would be within arm’s reach to snatch me up, should the men or I fail.

“Don’t touch me,” I growled as I moved towards the end of the wagon. Willie, whatever he’d been doing now complete, offered his assistance as well and I took it immediately, my feet finally touching solid ground as he lifted me out of the wagon bed.

Trailing after Jamie and his entourage, Willie stayed by my side and Dougal directly on my heels as we wound our way through a maze of stone corridors, one bending and turning into the next until we arrived at the room the brothers had prepared for us. It was small and sparsely furnished, but it would do.

“Father Anselm, this is Misses Fraser,” Dougal coolly introduced me to an elderly priest with a kind expression. “He’s agreed to you shelter until… we can find a more permanent solution.”

He’d covered it nicely, but I knew what he’d meant.

Until I failed.

But, I wouldn’t fail.

I would piece together Jamie’s hand and bring him back to health… back me, back to us.

“Thank you, Father,” I smiled, my gratitude genuine as I ignored Dougal’s veiled threats. “We are most grateful.”

“Think nothing of it,” his returned smile made me want to weep, the almost parental gaze tearing down the facades I’d held in place for far too long as he assured me, “We shall talk later.”

I nodded, suddenly remembering the supplies I’d requested, blurting, “I’m going to need—“

“Your husband’s uncle has given us your instructions, my child,” he cut me off and patted my hand, warming it between his own.

“You’ll find everything you need on the table there.”

A deep sigh left my lips before I could stop it as I squeezed his hand, meaning what I said with every fiber of my being as I repeated, “Thank you.”

He stepped away at this, revealing Dougal, who had been waiting in the weeds for a perfect time to pounce.

“Claire, I must speak with ye,” he begged, this time making no effort to hide his motives.

I side-stepped around him with a huff and tried to continue towards my destination, but he caught hold of my elbow, keeping me in my place.

“If I don’t set that hand, he’ll be crippled for life,” I seethed, leveling him with a look that should have incapacitated him on the spot.

Instead, his blue eyes turned ice cold and a sickening smile tugged at his lips as his voice dropped, snidely commenting, “That long?”

I was just about ready to slap him in that smug face of his, but Jamie’s voice gave me the exit I needed.

“Claire?”

My heart lurched as I instantly turned my attention to him, dismissing Dougal coldly and succinctly as I hurried to my husband’s side, “If you’ll excuse us.”

Snagging a low stool from along the wall, I deposited it beside the bed and eased myself down onto it. His head turned on the pillow, his brow furrowed and eyes screwed up tight in agony as he rasped, “Claire…”

My left hand reached for his — his whole and dominant one — taking hold of him, assuring, “I’m right here, luv.”

The other hand gravitated to his face, pulled by the overwhelming need to take him into my arms. I cupped his cheek with my palm, my thumb tenderly stroking his chilled skin as he struggled to open his eyes.

“I’ve got you, Jamie,” I promised, silently vowing to never let him go, ever again.

His blue eyes found mine for the first time, clouded with pain and shrouded with an inner turmoil that cut me to my very core. He frowned as he studied me, searching for something in my face that he couldn’t quite find.

“Claire,” Jamie murmured again.

I bent my head, kissing him gently but urgently and I felt a good deal of tension leave his body in a shuddering sigh. My eyes slid shut as I pressed my brow to his, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed beside him, to fall into mind numbing slumber and wake to find this had all been a terrible dream.

But it hadn’t been a dream.

I’d very nearly lost him forever.

“You’re safe,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears that threatened to fall.

Jamie let go of my hand and his good arm slipped around my neck, pulling my head to his. I twisted, shifting onto the bed beside him as my body tried to bend that way. The bulk of me made things cumbersome and I struggled to be as close to my husband as I wanted to be. I began to tremble, shaking from head to toe as we clung to each other, the events of the past twenty-four hours suddenly hitting me with the force of a freight train.

“You’re safe,” I repeated, as much to remind myself as it was to reassure him.

So many things could have gone wrong.

Should have gone wrong.

A gaggle of Highland warriors and their herd of cows should not have been able to break into a fortified British prison, recover a highly guarded inmate, and escape again without losing a single man.

It shouldn’t have worked.

But it had.

And Jamie was safe, here in my arms.

“Oh God, Jamie,” I hiccuped, unable to hold back my tears any longer.

I felt him nod against me, his breath catching as he pushed me away ever so slightly, his chin dipping as he stared at what was left of my waist.

“The bairns?”

I half laughed, half sobbed as I moved his hand against me, guiding it to the place where our children were currently objecting to my bent position. They were busy, thriving within me despite all I’d been through on the road. Relief washed over his face as they demonstrated well-being, dancing and rejoicing at their father’s touch.

But, soon, the muscles of his jaw began to tighten as he seemed to process a great many things and his head dropped back down onto the pillow… almost in defeat.

My heart lurched as I murmured, “What is it, luv?”

His left hand drifted over to his right forearm — just above the carnage — as his gaze fixated on a distant spot on the wall, unable to look at me.

“Will it mend?”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

A knock on the door sounded before I could elaborate, Murtaugh’s inquiring a nighean? announcing his presence.

“Come in,” I called reluctantly, hastily wiping my cheeks as Murtagh stuck his head in the door.

“Is there anythin’ I can be fetchin’ for ye?”

Jamie’s head turned on the pillow in response to his godfather’s question and, with an effort, I stood again, forcing a smile as I gathered my resolve.

I wanted nothing more than to send Murtagh off for a doctor, to whisk Jamie off to the nearest hospital where a team of surgeons could repair his hand and I could simply be his wife… allowed to be fearful, to sit in a chair and wait and pray.

But that option was not available to me.

Pull it together. Jamie needs you to have a clear head.

Taking one deep breath and then another, I asked, “Do you have a flask of whisky on you?”

“Aye, always,” a slow smile stretched across Murtagh’s face.

I lifted my chin, clenching my fists at my sides as I insisted, “Then let’s do this.”

I moved away from the bed, heading towards the wash basin that stood in the corner. I slowly cleaned my hands, washing away the grime as I my mind returned to the task at hand.

What a horrible pun, I flinched and shook my head, trying to rid myself of the connection.

“Sassenach?”

Jamie’s rasping voice snapped my head to the side, catching sight of him out of the corner of my eye. He was studying me intently, the gears of his mind working something over.

“Are you alright?”

The soap slipped out of my hand and into the basin with a splash, tears blurring my vision once more.

“Yes,” I answered a little too quickly, turning back to washing my hands and fishing the soap back out so he wouldn’t see my face.

Only Jamie would ask such a question.

His tender care of me was nothing new, but now —while he was incapacitated and in excruciating pain — it sucked the very air from my lungs, bending me over the basin as I gripped the sides.

“Claire?”

The concern in his voice rose, but I knew I had to keep it together, knowing that if I turned back to face him in this moment, I wouldn't be able to.

And so, I dried my hands absently as I lied, “I’m fine.”

Murtagh returned just then and extinguished any further discussion over how I was feeling. I set him to work, directing him as to where I needed things while I sterilized my hands the few instruments I had in the whisky, leaving him to do the heavy lifting in relative silence.

I collected the stack of clean cloths from the table and crossed the room, placing them beside the bucket of fresh water as I tried to settle myself to my work. Standing at the table Murtagh had placed next to the bed, I began arraigning things so that they’d be within easy reach, struggling to put up a calm front before I faced Jamie again. I could hear Murtagh helping Jamie to drink the whisky he’d procured and let him care for his godson for a good many moments as I took the time to deeply inhale and exhale, to harden my resolve and commit to having a clear, objective mindset.

Finally turning around, I found Jamie’s eyes firmly shut again, caught up in his pain. Murtagh had moved over to the other side of the bed, giving me room to work, and I stiffly positioned myself on my work stool. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but it was better than being on my feet and bending over him.

I checked his pulse, finding it steady beneath my fingers and noticing that his breathing had begun to even out as the whisky took on its second use as an analgesic.

“Sorcha?”

My heart crashed through the floorboards beneath my feet as his lips slowly formed the syllables of my Gaelic name and the sound of it simultaneously tore down the wall I’d hastily built to protect myself, flaying my heart wide open before him— even as it bolstered and sustained me, giving me the wherewithal to do what I needed to do… to operate on my own husband.

My hands stilled as I returned my attention to him, my lips forming a wobbly smile as I met his gaze. I saw the vestiges of pain still remaining in the corners of his consciousness, but the magical elixir of alcohol told him he no longer need care about it and he bought that lie hook, line, and sinker.

“Right here, luv,” I murmured, dipping my head.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammered. “You shouldna… you should be… I’m so sorry, mo nighean donn.”

“Jamie,” his name tumbled from my lips as I pressed my cheek to his, crooning in his ear, but he continued.

“You should be a’ Lallybroch broodin’... makin’ yer nest jes the way you like it… no’ slavin’ to mend what canna be mended.”

“Your hand will heal,” I lifted my head in order to look him right in the eyes. He started to disagree, but I stopped him, emphatically repeating myself, “Your hand will heal… and I can’t build my nest without you.”

Infection was my main concern, mostly in his pinky, but I was confident the bones would heal with time. He would likely experience stiffness in the joints and could possibly lose some degree of range of motion as well, but I would do everything within my power to make sure he stood the best chance of a full and total recovery.

He squeezed my hand as his eyes slid shut with a sigh, his questions now answered and his mind at relative ease. I squeezed back, patting his hand gently as my spirit offered up a prayer that my words would prove true.

...

I’d treated horrific injuries in the war, many more unfathomable than the task before me… but none had been my husband.

The wounded soldier had always been a stranger.

Sure, I’d gotten to know many as they recuperated, but they were unknown souls as they lay broken before me on the operating table. But now, for better or for worse, both the soldier and the surgery were completely mine.

I knew every inch of my husband’s body… I could map out his every line, every curve with my eyes closed.

But could I operate on him?

Could I set aside the swirling maelstrom of self-doubt and fear of failing and perform a surgery that would place him in more pain than he was already in, even though I knew it would lessen his pain in the future? Could I overcome the suffocating grief at seeing Jamie like this and overwhelming rage I felt towards the sadistic monster who’d inflicted the wounds in order for me to heal them?

Did I really have a choice?

No.

I slid my eyes shut as I pressed my palms against the table, forcing myself to swallow my emotions, to bury them deep within me. I took a deep breath… and another… and then one more.

My head stopped spinning and clarity was restored to me bit by bit as I began to go about the surgery in my mind. I knew that it would be a long, nerve wracking job and that I’d need to be focused, to be completely in tune with the workings of Jamie’s body.

I was halfway across the room before I even realized I was moving, returning to Jamie out of pure instinct and a blind need to feel his pulse thrumming beneath my fingertips. Sinking down beside him, I remembered something he’d done on our wedding night…

He’d held my hand, even taken me into his arms when sharing our hearts was painful. He’d said that it would be easier if we were touching and it had always proven to be true.

Why would it not be now?

I gently positioned Jamie’s right arm the way I needed it, but the jostling was enough to rouse him from the drunken slumber he’d settled into, his face contorting in pain.

Stopping this and twisting to pick up the measured amount of laudanum, I offered it to him.

“Here, this will help.”

Jamie took the cup and downed its contents gladly, only protesting once he’d swallowed it in one gulp. He screwed up his face in disgust, his jaw dropping and his tongue sticking out as he complained, “A dhia, Sassenach… tha’s foul.”

“It’s strong,” I half apologized, half explained, “but it does the trick.”

He nodded, taking this in stride as he handed me back the cup, holding my hand once his was empty once more. His grip was surprisingly tight and I paused to study his face, finding stark fear under the layers of alcohol and physical pain.

“It’ll be alright,” I assured him, trying to make myself believe it as well.

“Oh, aye, mo nighean donn,” his chin tilted up to look at me as he settled himself against the pillows. “Tis no’ the pain… but what I’ll find once it’s gone, aye?”

I watched him struggle for a moment and then could bear it no longer. Dipping my head, I kissed him long and hard, only coming up for air when I finally felt him relax beneath me.

I pressed my brow against his, whispering, “Find me.”

“I’ll be right here with you, Jamie… at your side when you wake and along with you in your dreams.”

A deep, heavy sigh escaped him and I could tell the laudanum was beginning to take effect. His gaze was distant as he struggled to keep his eyes open, fighting to stay alert instead of letting the drug’s numbing tide take him under.

“I’ve got you, Jamie,” I murmured, my thumb stroking his cheek.

“You’re safe.”

I kissed him again and the last vestiges of tension left his body as he finally drifted off, the lines of pain disappearing from his face, leaving him very much like the last morning I’d spent with him… completely at peace.

“I’ll fetch a few more lamps for ye, lass,” Murtagh murmured, quietly taking his leave.

I sat up after a moment, taking a deep breath and setting my sights on Jamie’s right hand.

“Bone of my bone, mmm?” I intoned wryly, speaking to him even though he couldn’t — wouldn’t — respond.

But... if there was a small chance… even a remote possibility that hearing my voice would keep his demons at bay while he was unconscious, I’d eagerly read him the entire Encyclopedia Britannica without hesitation.

Checking his pulse briefly and finding it still strong, I heaved myself back up and moved away to clean my hands again. It was well worth going about the sanitization process an extra time to be able to touch Jamie, to reassure him as he went under, but I mentally chastised myself for not moving the necessary supplies closer.

“What I wouldn’t give for a bar of carbolic soap or a team of qualified surgeons… but, here we are,” I sighed. “Although, come to think of it, I don’t believe you’d protest much about being stuck with me and a bottle of strong whisky under any normal circumstances…”

Shaking my head at the thought, I let out a decided snort.

“And just what exactly is normal for us, James Fraser?”

Traipsing around the Highlands in every sort of weather? Evading the grasp of the latest in a string of people bent on killing one or both of us?

No, Jamie and I never had anything resembling normal our almost six months of marriage…

I peeked over my shoulder at him, needing to be reassured that he really was here with me, and found exactly what I’d expected… he hadn’t moved so much as a fraction of an inch. Jamie’s chest rose and fell at steady, slow increments, effectively qualming the ridiculous notion that he’d stopped breathing while my back was turned.

Tucking my lower lip firmly between my teeth, I gnawed at it as I resumed my work, going about the meticulous process of getting my hands as clean as I possibly could.

Murtagh returned with the extra lamps in hand as I was rinsing my hands in the whisky for a third time. He set them down, then drifted back to my side, studying me intently as he inquired, “What else can I do, a nighean?”

I paused and shifted my attention back to our patient. We’d removed what was left of Jamie’s clothing long ago, giving our patient a quick once over to get most of the grime off of him, but there was still far more dirt in and around his more minor wounds than I was comfortable with.

“The gashes on his chest… could you wash them again? Rinse them with the whisky?”

Murtagh looked relieved to be of use as he nodded and I gave him a weary smile in return. We worked together but separately, settling into a comfortable silence as we gave our full attention to our respective tasks, caring for the one that our hearts both loved.

With the hand finally clean, I could now begin to reassemble what was left of Jamie’s pinky finger. The very tip of it had been left behind in whatever hell-hole he’d inhabited and the bones that remained were splintered almost beyond repair… but with hours of meticulous attention, I was able to get it to the place where it stood a chance of healing properly.

This having been accomplished, I moved on to his ring finger. He had impressive compound fractures in both his middle and proximal phalanx and it took considerable force to draw the ends of the bones back through the skin, eliciting concern from my ragtag assistant.

“What the hell are ye doin’?!”

Murtagh was opposite me in an instant, gaping at me from across the work table. I tried to ignore him, hoping he’d take the hint and go back to whatever it was that he was doing, but he remained. He hovered in my peripheral vision, arms tightly crossed and disapproval radiating from every ounce of him.

“Setting — his — fucking — finger,” I finally grunted in answer when I could.

Proximal phalanx now in place, I quickly glanced up at him and found a look of half astonished wonder and half complete disquiet at what he’d just witnessed. Murtagh had seen his fair share of violence and wounds it produced in his life, I was sure, but watching someone exert relatively brute force to heal another would be an occurrence of absolute rarity.

I returned my focus to completing my work, but the interruption made me realize just how much I’d lost awareness of anything outside the job I was doing. I noticed that ache of my stiff joints began to settle in as I finished off the final stitch, the fatigue burning my eyes as I carefully splinted the hand, surgery now complete. I felt myself begin to tremble as I bandaged Jamie’s hand, finalizing this first step in his recovery process.

The end of the roll slipped out of my grasp before I could stop it and Murtagh quickly ushered me to a chair along the wall, sturdier and more comfortable than the low stool I’d been occupying. He opened the window a tiny bit, letting in the cold, clean air and I took great gulps of it.

I tipped my head back, letting my eyes slide shut as I fought a sudden wave of dizzying nausea. My hands took great fistfuls of my makeshift apron as I filled my lungs with the night air, trying to rid my nose of the heavy scent of blood.

Jamie’s blood.

Much to my immediate relief, I found that an empty bucket was within arm’s reach and stuck my head into it just in time. I could hear Murtagh’s muttered grumblings as he hurried back to my side, but paid him no heed as everything I’d repressed in the last hours came rushing to the forefront. I began to tremble violently as every muscle in my body gave out, my chest heaving with the sobs I could no longer contain.

“Shh, a leannan,” he crooned and took me into his arms, setting aside the bucket and paying no heed to my complete and utter disarray.

“Ye’ve done it… tis over now.”

It’s over.

It’d taken everything within me and then some, but I had done it. I had successfully set, sutured, and stabilized every injured finger on Jamie’s hand… I had wielded every weapon within my arsenal and came out the other side victorious.

“I can finish yer bandagin’, a nighean,” he assured me, his voice kind but insistent. “My coverin’ will keep til morn… he willna be movin it about much, aye?”

The smile I found in his eyes gave me what I needed to keep my wits about me. I nodded wearily and watched as he — to my surprise — wrapped Jamie’s hand quite efficiently in the cloth bandage. It certainly wouldn’t hold if Jamie used the arm, but our patient wouldn’t be conscious for a good while yet and in no shape to do much more than breathe when he was.

No, as Murtagh so eloquently stated, it would keep until the morn.

My chest heaved as my head slowly cleared and I opened my eyes, blinking down at Murtagh — who was now kneeling at my feet — through my tears. There was something eating at him, words he wanted to say, but chose for the moment to keep to himself.

“Spit it out,” I grumbled, “or else it’s going to choke you.”

Kind concern lit his eyes and it was this that kept me from descending into abject panic as he gently urged, “Go to bed, lass.”

Still, the very suggestion had my heart rate skyrocketing and my mouth completely dry.

“I’m not leaving him,” I choked out.

“An’ ye think I will?” he snorted, one brow nearly reaching the ceiling.

I shook my head, unwilling to so much as budge from this chair.

“I’ll stay wi’ him through the night, a nighean,” he coaxed. “Ye said yerself he wouldna wake before morn and ye need to sleep.”

I didn’t think he would.

My dosage of the laudanum had been approximate, wanting him to be completely under for the procedure but not so much as to cause problems. I’d never worked with the substance before, the bottle remaining untouched in my medicine box until now, and therefore had no more than a general idea of when Jamie would wake. The combination of his hangover and pain from the wounds would no doubt keep him unconscious for a time after that and I could only hope that he’d sleep away what was left of the dark night.

I chewed on my bottom lip as I struggled between not wanting to leave my husbands side ever again for so much as a minute and the overwhelming desire to crawl into an actual bed and sleep until the next millennia… and slumber’s tow was winning.

I eyed him cautiously, testing, “You’ll send for me if there’s any change?”

“Without hesitation,” he promised.

“And not let Dougal so much as touch him?”

“Oh, aye,” Murtagh’s voice dropped to a near growl. “No one save Father Anselm himself will step through that door until you do.”

My gaze shifted to where Jamie’s prostrate form lay on the bed, the slight rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still alive.

“Go,” Murtagh squeezed my hand, bringing my attention back to my husband’s godfather.

“I’ll see him through.”

A weary smile tugged at the corners of my mouth and, taking this as a sign of committal, Murtagh helped me to my feet. I swayed slightly, my head spinning, and his grip on me tightened, supporting me fully should I need it.

Oh God, did I ever.

Jamie had said to me once that he could bear pain himself, but he couldn’t bear mine… that it would take more strength than he had.

He was right, it did take strength.

I only hoped that each of us had enough.

Instead of heading towards the door, I turned to the wash basin, longing to rid myself of the last remnants of Jamie’s blood from my hands. Murtagh made small noises of protestation, but eventually saw the logic in this and acquiesced.

The soft refrains of the Gloria drifted through the crack at the bottom of the chamber’s door and my hands stilled as I dried them off, my head tipping to one side.

“What time is it?”

Murtagh looked towards the door too, pondering, “Long past midnight, to be sure.”

“Then it’s Christmas,” I murmured in reverent awe.

“Aye,” his voice lowered as well, “so it is.”

Murtagh knew where I was headed I even before I took a step and smoothly led me back to Jamie’s side without so much as a grumble, helping me to sit down on the edge of the bed. I took hold of Jamie’s right hand, pulling it into my lap, and clung to it.

“Happy Christmas,” I murmured to him, picking back up the pattern of speaking my thoughts out loud… hoping he could hear me, that my words would keep his demons at bay for even a short while.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #Metamorphosis AU #chapter 22

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queenofcats17 · 5 years

Text

The Outbreak

@bornoffireandwisdom asked if I’d write something about the day in her Saudade AU where Joey finally released his ink plague on the studio

Also, I keep forgetting, but Scientific Journalist Murray Hill belongs to @circus-craze

There weren’t a lot of things that those in the ink remembered. Memories tended to blur together when they were all in the hivemind. Some were damaged, forgotten, or just suppressed by Joey. But if there was one thing that many of them still remembered, it was the day Joey had finally set his plan into motion. It was a memory etched into the minds of those who still had some level of sapience. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the Lost Ones in the village to wake up screaming at the memory of that day. Even Wally, for all his positivity and bravado, was haunted by what had happened.

The day had started ordinary enough. They’d been working day and night to meet a deadline that Joey had sprung on them. Everyone was tired, just barely managing to stay awake. Many of them had slept at the studio or hadn’t slept at all. Jack had just delivered the lyrics for the songs and had gone back to his desk, where he promptly fell asleep. Of all of them, his death was the least entertaining or grand. His death came when an ink pipe burst above his desk, allowing the ink to consume him.

But the others hadn’t been so lucky. Joey had instructed Murray to infect Sammy first. The music director was exhausted, both physically and mentally, which made it relatively easy for the infection to take him over. All Murray had to do was introduce his virus into the ink, and get the ink on Sammy. It was easy enough. There was a pipe in Sammy’s office that was notorious for bursting at the most inopportune moments. Murray messed with the pump switches a little and the pipe burst. There was a brief instant where Sammy was about the yell and rage the way he usually did. Then he felt his thoughts begin to dull as the ink oozed all over him. He knew something was wrong. He instinctively knew this, and yet he couldn’t do anything about it. His body stood up and began to move on its own.

Wait- No! What’s going on? Sammy began to panic, trying to fight as his body moved out of his office and into the Music Department. It was like he was watching everything through a television, forced to be a spectator as his body began the mission it was now tasked with.

“Mr. Lawrence? Are you okay?” One of the band members asked. “You don’t look so good.” Sammy’s body said nothing, tackling the band member to the ground and vomiting ink into their mouth.

No! Leave them alone! Sammy screamed, banging ineffectually against the wall separating him from the outside world. What are you doing?!

The people around them began to scream and yell, with quite a few employees trying to pry Sammy off of the band member. They did eventually succeed, but their relief was shortlived. Once Sammy had been removed from the band member, he started attacking the others. He scratched and bit, pinning targets when he could and vomiting into their mouths. Sammy’s consciousness watched helplessly as his body attacked his friends. He could feel the flesh giving way beneath his hands, the bones crunching as he leaned on their chests to force the ink down their throats. He grew even more panicked when Wally arrived.

Don’t you hurt him! He screamed as Wally approached.

“Sammy, whatever you’re doin’...You need to stop.” Wally said, drawing closer with his hands up. Around them, other employees Sammy had attacked were getting up to infect others, like some kind of zombie apocalypse.

Wally, run! Sammy tried to make his mouth move, tried to force some kind of sound out. He needed to warn Wally. He didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. But Wally was his best friend. The two of them were close enough to be brothers. And though Sammy snapped at him sometimes, there were few he cared more about.

Sammy began to cry as his body launched itself at Wally. To his credit, Wally put up a good fight. But he was no match for Sammy’s supernatural strength. Sammy managed to break Wally’s arm (the sound of the bone snapping and Wally’s scream still haunted Sammy’s dreams) and vomited ink into his mouth.

Please, stop. Sammy begged. He grew even more terrified as Susie made her way down the stairs. He didn’t want to hurt her either! Thankfully, Wally managed to distract him enough that Susie got away with only a few scratches. Although, those scratches had already passed the infection on to her.

Chaos reigned in the studio as the infected employees attacked their coworkers. Many tried to flee to the exits, only to find that they’d been locked with some supernatural force. No amount of force nor a key could open them. They were trapped. And in his office, Joey just sat back and smirked as he felt his employees enter the hivemind. They were his now. No leaving, no quitting. They were his, now and forever. If he could somehow get Henry back, then everything would be absolutely perfect. He’d have everything he wanted. Murray was waiting in the office with him with a clipboard, ready to study the effects once everyone had been infected.

“This is honestly kind of exciting,” Murray admitted, tapping his pencil on the clipboard. “I’ve never observed anything like this before.” It was clear from the tapping and the bouncing of his leg that he was still a tad nervous. No matter, he would so how amazing his work was soon enough.

“Just wait until it’s all finished,” Joey said, his smile widening. “I can assure you, it will be glorious.”

Right at that very moment, Grant was stepping into the Music Department. He’d heard the screams and, since he was nearby, he’d decided to investigate. He wasn’t sure why he’d decided to do this. Grant was absolutely terrible with confrontation. He couldn’t fight either. He wasn’t sure what he’d thought he could do if there was something wrong. But he was worried, and he wanted to help.

Grant had always been a meek and withdrawn sort of person. He’d been alone from the time he’d been very young, stuck in an orphanage until he was old enough to work. His only saving grace was that he’d always been a prodigy when it came to math. It was thanks to this that he’d been able to find a job. Finances were stable enough work, and he liked doing math. He liked working at Joey Drew Studios too. The people were lovely. Especially Shawn. Shawn had taken it upon himself to watch out for Grant due to the accountant’s lack of physical capabilities. Lacie, naturally a sort of mother-hen figure, had stepped in as well. The three of them were rather close, sometimes jokingly referred to as “The Butcher Gang” after the characters of the same name.

Unfortunately for Grant, he didn’t have the rest of his gang there when he entered the Music Department. Shawn was still in the Heavenly Toys department and Lacie was working on one of Bertram’s rides. So Grant was by himself, which proved to be a very unfortunate thing. His heart pounded in his ears as he ventured tentatively forward. There were people all over the ground. All of them had more ink on them than was normal and some of them didn’t seem to be breathing.

“H-Hello?” Grant’s voice shook. “What’s...What’s going on? I-I heard screaming.”

“Get out! Run!” Someone screamed, running past him. Others followed them, all telling Grant to run. Before he could decide whether to follow their advice, Sammy was on him. It didn’t take much force for the music director to push the accountant to the ground.

“What are you doing?” Grant tried to protect his face as Sammy snapped and scratched at him. “What’s going on?” Sammy growled in response, ink dribbling down his chin.

“Please! Stop!” Grant begged. But Sammy did not. So, Grant began kicking and hitting as hard as he possibly could. Most of these blows did absolutely nothing. But Grant did manage to land a kick in the groin area and a blow to one of Sammy’s eyes, both of which dazed the other man. This allowed Grant to wriggle free of Sammy’s grip and run.

“Help! Please! Someone!” Grant screamed at the top of his lungs as he ran. No one answered him. The only thing he heard was the screams of the other employees, all similarly begging for someone to help. He could hear the desperate jiggling of the doorknob, people banging on the doors. Grant stopped running as a terrifying realization hit him.

They were going to die here.

“I don’t want to die,” Grant whispered. Suddenly, something grabbed his foot and he was abruptly jerked down, causing him to face-plant into the ground. The wind was knocked out of him, causing him to gasp. His nose made a sickening crack as it collided with the wood. It likely wasn’t broken, but that didn’t really matter. He was rolled over, greeted by the snarling face of Sammy. Grant couldn’t say anything, so he could only watch as Sammy got to his feet and took hold of one of his ankles. Sammy dragged Grant over to an ink puddle and dropped his ankle. Grant’s eyes widened. He tried to get to his feet, but Sammy had already grabbed a fistful of Grant’s hair and was dunking him into the puddle.

Grant screamed. A poor choice in retrospect. The ink filled his mouth and his lungs as he tried desperately to breathe. He thrashed about, but Sammy’s grip was iron firm. Grant wasn’t going to win this fight. Sammy had always been stronger than him, even as a human. As an inky monstrosity, Grant stood no chance of getting free. Sammy held his head under the ink until he stopped thrashing, then withdrew his body and threw him aside.

This was how Shawn and Lacie found him. They’d heard the screams and, like Grant, had come to investigate. They too had seen the bodies, but enough time had passed that some of the employees had begun to transform into Searchers. Shawn and Lacie had been forced to fight their way to find Grant. Shawn wielded a pipe while Lacie had a wrench.

“He’s gotta be here,” Shawn muttered to himself. As soon as they’d seen the bodies, they’d become worried for Grant’s safety. Grant had a good heart. They knew if he’d heard the screams, he would have wanted to help.

“He’ll be here,” Lacie reassured him, grunting a bit as she swung her wrench at the head of one of her reanimated coworkers.

“Drew’s behind this.” Shawn quickly switched gears, trying to distract himself from his worry about Grant. “He has to be.”

“I bet that Hill had something to do with it too.” Lacie’s expression darkened.

“I knew there was something wrong with him!” Shawn punctuated this by hitting a Searcher in the jaw with his pipe.

Together, they fought their way to where they found Grant. The accountant lay in a heap, his clothing drenched with ink. A nasty looking bruise was developing around the bridge of his nose and his eyes, and he had what appeared to be a split lip. Shawn was at his side in a moment, hooking Grant’s arm over his shoulder and getting him up.

“We have to get him to the infirmary.” He said. Lacie nodded, putting Grant’s other arm around her shoulder. It wasn’t hard to get Grant down the stairs. He was a small man and rather thin. They managed to get him down and onto a cot.

“He looks pretty rough.” Lacie’s expression was grim as she got Grant into what she hoped would be a comfortable position. Shawn was checking out Jack’s area to see if the songwriter was alright. Judging by the flooding of the ink, which had covered the stairs down to the sewers, Jack was a lost cause.

“He’ll be fine.” Shawn turned his attention to the stairs back to the music department. “We just need to find a way out, then we can get him to a hospital.”

“Do you think he’ll be safe here?” Lacie walked up behind him. “Those things can probably come down stairs.”

“We’re not leaving him here for long.” Shawn waved a hand dismissively, although it was shaking immensely. “We just need to check things out and then we can get out.”

“Alright.” Lacie nodded. She had a bad feeling deep in her gut, but she didn’t want to bring it up to Shawn. He had a bit of a temper when under pressure, and she would rather not argue with him in a situation like this. They needed to work together. That was what was important.

They left the infirmary and went to check all the exits they knew of in the area. Every exit was locked, many surrounded by employees who had succumbed to the ink. The exit in the music department, which was down a staircase, had been flooded and was surrounded by former employees who’d tried to escape through there, only to succumb to the ink. Lacie and Shawn turned away from the creatures that had once been their coworkers. There was nothing they could do for them.

Desperation set in as they continued to search for an open door. No matter how hard they tried, though, they couldn’t find any way out. It slowly became clear to them that there was no way out, and they came to the same conclusion that Grant had. Both were beginning to panic, although Lacie was hiding it better.

“Bertram can take care of himself, right?” She said. “I don’t need to worry about him, do I?”

“He’ll be fine,” Shawn replied, although he wasn’t really listening. His mind was racing. Was this how he was going to die? This wasn’t how he’d wanted his life to end. He’d never really thought about what he wanted his death to be like, but he was sure he’d never wanted this. He was pacing and muttering to himself, passing the pipe from hand to hand. It was spattered with ink and what might have been blood. Watch him pace was honestly making Lacie even more nervous.

“Let’s get back to Grant,” Lacie suggested, putting a hand on Shawn’s shoulder.

“Right...Right.” Shawn took a deep breath, nodding his head. “Have to make sure he’s okay.”

“Exactly.” Lacie gave him what she hoped would be a comforting smile.

Shawn smiled back, patting her hand. “You’re a good friend, Lacie.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” Lacie snorted, pulling away from him. “Now come on. We gotta get back to Grant.”

When they returned to the infirmary, they found Grant sitting up. Shawn took this as a sign that he was better, running over to hug him. His joy and relief were short-lived, however, when he got closer and saw the ink covering the majority of Grant’s body and his glowing yellow eyes. Grant lunged for Shawn, letting out a strange roar. Lacie quickly pulled him back and out of the way.

“We need to go,” Lacie hissed, tugging the toymaker back. Shawn didn’t move, his mouth hanging open and his eyes fixed on the thing that had been Grant.

“Shawn!” Lacie barked. Shawn stayed frozen, even as Grant prepared to lunge once more. Lacie muttered a curse, picking Shawn up and slinging him over her shoulder. She started running, heading for the elevator. She knew it was a bad idea, but she had to make sure Bertram was alright. Shawn began to cry quietly as she ran. She couldn’t make out any of the words he began to babble. It was all in Gaelic anyway.

“I’m sorry,” She said. Shawn kept crying.

Despite escaping Grant, both Lacie and Shawn would eventually succumb to the ink, just like everyone else in the studio. Had Joey not kept all the doors locked, Lacie and Shawn (and others as capable as them in combat) might have escaped. But Joey had rigged the game from the start. Joey had never liked to play fair. When he wanted to win, he would go to any lengths to achieve his victory. There would be no survivors from this outbreak. All Joey needed now was Henry.

If you’re back in town, come visit the old workshop. There’s something I need to show you.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim saudade au #fanfiction #shawn flynn #grant cohen #lacie benton #jack fain #joey drew #sammy lawrence #wally franks #susie campbell #murray hill #tw: death #tw: body horror #tw: vomit #tw: violence #tw: drowning

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ohmytheon · 6 years

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The Wonderful World of Jealousy

summary: Bakugou doesn't need to deal with his feelings, certainly when it comes to Uraraka. He'll just ignore them until they fade away - that is, until, the worst asshole of them all figures out his issues and brings them up to the forefront. Is he really okay with losing his chance with her or does he want to try for something more?

notes: For Hanini on the @kacchako-server! Now I ship Monoma/Uraraka and I want to write more Monoma and it's all your fault. I hope you enjoy your gift! Also I wrote the summary while drinking so please forgive me.

Jealousy was an ugly feeling, one that had taken Bakugou an embarrassing amount of time to figure out. It was one of those feelings that he didn’t even realize he was suffering from until two days later when the realization would strike him like a flash of lightning and he’d struggle to keep from exploding something. He hated being jealous. It made feel so petty and frustrated, if only because there was literally nothing he could do to stop it. There was no sense in it and yet it was there, pulsing in the back of his mind like some sort of ticking time bomb.

He was working on being the very best. He was going to become number one. What the hell did he have to be jealous over?

It turned out, upon coming to UA, that there were quite a few things.

The first had been the sickening realization that he wasn’t the strongest student in his class. He’d never been around other kids with quirks as or even more powerful than his before. It had fueled him to push himself even more, striving for nothing but victory every time, but it had come at a cost that he’d not expected in making people think that he would do absolutely anything to be the best.

The second had been more subtle, one that had taken him weeks to realize. Bakugou would admit that while he’d had friends growing up, he’d never had close attachments. Now that he looked back on it, he wasn’t even sure if he could count them as friendships, not when he’d dropped them all the second that he’d started attending UA. What use had he had for them after that?

However, the kids in the hero course were different. Sure, it had taken him a while and a few hard-fought battles that other people might not have considered the things that made up friendships, but Bakugou would admit now that a few of the kids he’d derisively called Extras before were his friends. Being around others that could be considered near his equal made all the difference.

He found out the hard way that he was very possessive of them. They were his friends. He couldn’t figure out why Kirishima forming a close friendship with Deku outside of him or Mina sometimes sticking with the girls or even Kaminari hanging around that little grape shit pissed him off so much. At first, he’d thought it was just because it was Deku, but then he had started to notice it was about the others sometimes too. The fact was he didn’t like sharing, but had found himself in a group filled with the most social people in the universe. Go fucking figure.

The last one was the worst and the most aggravating. Bakugou loathed it. He did not like feeling jealous at all, but this one ate him up if only because there was possibly something he could do about it but wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t. It wasn’t that he was afraid to do something -- he wasn’t afraid of shit -- it was that he didn’t have the time. He was trying to become number one and he’d come to the conclusion over a year ago that he had a hard and difficult path ahead of him if he was going to beat Deku and Todoroki in order to do that.

He couldn’t afford any distractions and this jealousy right here? It was a fucking distraction that he neither wanted nor needed.

Despite his insistence that it leave him the fuck alone and let him be to work on his goals, Ochako Uraraka -- with her damn smile and laugh, those pink cheeks, her ability to flip anyone on their back, and quirk that could lift tons right over his head with the threat of dropping it -- continued to piss him off. Why wouldn’t she get out of his head?

Even worse, why wouldn’t other guys leave her alone? By the time he’d realized all those things about her and how they twisted his entire being into knots, others had as well. And that was what he hated the most. The fact that he wasn’t the only one that knew those things about her -- that felt those things towards her -- and there was jack shit that he could do about it. After all, it wasn’t her fault she was as bright as the fucking sun and a badass to boot. Of course other people would notice and of course they would act on it. They had the time; they had the leisure.

(They had the guts.)

Bakugou kept telling himself that one day he would get over it. One day he’d wake up, see her eating a terrible breakfast, and wouldn’t nearly be overwhelmed by the urge to take it from her and hand her his. One day his heart wouldn’t seize in his chest when she smiled or laughed at something he said. One day he wouldn’t give a shit when someone else made her do those same things.

Today was not that day.

They were in the middle of a joint combat simulation with Class 2-B. Finals were around the corner and everyone was doing their absolute best. Bakugou knew that he had a habit of getting into his own head when it came to tests like this, but for once, he had a moment to sit back and watch. He’d already had his turn and had come out on top, just as he’d expected. Now was the time to analyze the others and pick out any flaws or weaknesses that he could use against them should their finals call for them to go against each other. It could happen.

Except that it had been his weakness that had been spotted -- by that bastard Monoma of all people. It couldn’t have been worse unless Deku had figured it out. Maybe even then it wouldn’t have been as bad because Deku would have at least had the awful kindness to pretend like he didn’t know. Not Monoma though. Oh no, the moment he caught Bakugou fondly watching the screen with a grin on his face as Uraraka tore through some Class B nerd, it was game over.

“Uraraka is pretty incredible, isn’t she?” Monoma asked out of the blue.

Bakugou was so caught up in the fight that it didn’t register at first who was talking to him. “What?” When he turned his head and saw Monoma’s shit-eating grin, he scowled furiously. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Monoma pointed to the screen. “Uraraka. I don’t pay attention much to you Class A fools” -- which was absurd since he was practically obsessed with them -- “but she stands out. She’s very powerful and she’s cute.” Bakugou gawked at him, his brain so torn between wanting to throttle him and ignore him that he couldn’t do either of those things. “Do you know if she’s single?”

“Why the fuck would you want to know that?” Bakugou demanded. Surely this bastard was so up his own ass that he couldn’t even see anyone but himself.

“Oh, I was just thinking that I might ask her out on a date,” Monoma answered, like that was reasonable.

Bakugou snorted and turned back to the screen. “As if she’d go for someone like you.”

Monoma’s grin somehow broadened, turning almost demented. “You think she prefers someone like you ?”

His question hit Bakugou in the gut like a sucker punch from Deku and he choked on his tongue as he whipped his head back around to glare at him in incredulity. It was the wrong move. He couldn’t have been more obvious had he tried and his only hope was to play it off as pure fury. Then again, if he blew up, his extreme reaction and denial would only be even more damning. He couldn’t say shit.

It fucking sucked since Monoma knew all of that too and he dug in deep. “What’s this? Does the great ‘I am going to be number one’ Bakugou have a crush on the zero gravity girl?” He put one hand on his hip and then pointed to someone in the crowd. Bakugou didn’t have to look to know who he was pointing to though. The name was already pinging like a warning signal in his head. “Isn’t she best friends with Midoriya? They look awfully cozy.” Bakugou clenched his hands into fists, willing them not to explode, but that was all he could do. Monoma wasn’t threatened in the slightest as he waved a dismissive hand. “I’d do something soon if I were you. She might not be on the market for much longer.”

Before Bakugou could even think of something to shoot back at him that didn’t involve exploding him out of the building, Monoma walked away, cackling as he did so. A few people sent Bakugou some curious looks, including Deku and Kirishima, both of whom he ignored. Monoma got a few looks as well, but things like that never seemed to phase him in the slightest and they were all used to his weird behavior. Meanwhile, Bakugou was burning with rage and he knew -- he just fucking knew -- that things weren’t over.

I might ask her out on a date.

Nothing had even happened yet and Bakugou could feel jealousy sucking away at his fucking soul. Why did this have to happen to him? He wanted to ask her out on a date, not Monoma, who sure as hell didn’t have genuine feelings for her. Not that he did, but still, fuck. This was such shit hole that he’d dug and he couldn’t figure out a way out of it that didn’t involve imploding himself.

A week passed in which Bakugou put his entire focus on school and not on Uraraka at all. He wouldn’t have said that he ignored or avoided her, but barring class, if she walked into the same room as him, he either walked out or pretended like she didn’t exist. He had done it very well for half of his first year, even with her catching his eye at their first Sports Festival. So many things had happened to distract him then. He could do it now. He could ignore her like he’d ignored everyone. Eventually, whatever this shit feeling was, it would go away.

There were two issues with that strategy.

The first issue was Uraraka. She could appear seemingly out of thin air, as if waiting to pounce on him and pull him into one of her friendly conversations. He’d fallen victim to that trap far too many times. It was like she had some sort of second quirk -- as if he was caught in her gravitational pull. She was so bright and bubbly, along with intense and powerful. How could he resist that? Well, he tried, but instead he came off as even ruder than normal. Most of the time, it didn’t deter or phase her in the slightest.

Then there was that one time he’d said something so pointlessly mean that she’d slapped his chest and sent him flying into a tree. She’d left him desperately hanging onto a branch for fifteen minutes until he’d apologized and then returned his gravity to him so quickly that he’d fallen to the ground. She couldn’t have known how much he’d regretted acting that way and he had taken extra effort to avoid her since then, more so out of shame and humiliation than anything else.

The second issue was one that he couldn’t avoid: himself.

Bakugou could ignore anyone in the world except for himself. His mind rarely ever gave him peace and quiet. It bounced around, almost always loud, either focused like white hot lightning or scattered like debris after one of his massive explosions. The theme was constant -- his goals -- but there was so much that pertained to that theme and it kept getting added to each day. At one point, he had only ever considered becoming number one all on his own. Other people didn’t matter. What did it mattered who was with him when there was only room for one person on that pedestal and it was him?

Things were so different now. He had actual friends, mentors that he could trust, peers to push him, and even a better relationship with his family. It wasn’t perfect and things were still rocky with all the people in his life, but he’d learned that being at the top didn’t mean being alone. He didn’t always like that. Being alone was so much easier. There wasn’t nearly as much to juggle. There were times when he didn’t understand the point of it all. Then he would watch people like Deku, who thrived even more with the people in his life in a way that Bakugou hadn’t understood for the longest time, or Todoroki, who had perhaps been worse off than him but made even stronger the more he accepted that change.

It pissed him off, knowing this and knowing that it was for the better, because he didn’t want it and yet he did. And sometimes that want clashed with everything else in his mind.

Like the way Uraraka twisted him all up inside. How was that good for him or his goals? It was a distraction.

One that, despite his attempts at ignoring, Monoma capitalized on now that he had a line on Bakugou’s problem. The fact that it worked was even more maddening. Bakugou now knew that Monoma was the worst person to have figured this out. Sure, maybe he didn’t know the full extent -- and how could that bastard when he barely knew himself? -- but he knew just enough for it to be problematic.

Because if there was one thing Monoma knew best, it was how to exploit others to give himself an opportunity. That was basically his whole fucking quirk and he was smart to use it. Even smarter, he knew that Bakugou really couldn’t do shit to him without exposing himself.

Everything started going downhill at the end of the week when lunchtime came around. Like usual, Bakugou went to the mess hall with Kirishima and the others. They all split up while they got what they wanted to eat. He was slow, still sore from a hard morning workout, and scanned the large room for the table one of his friends had chosen when his eyes landed on something else entirely. His stomach twisted so uncomfortably that he no longer felt hungry and he had to actively keep his hands from smoking as he tightly gripped his tray.

Standing in what felt like the middle of the room, like a light was beamed on them and they were all he could see, were Uraraka and Monoma. As much of a little shit as he could be, Bakugou knew that Monoma could be, ugh, charming if he wanted to be. He was smart. And in a purely analytical point of view that Bakugou also hated, he could admit that the shit stain could be considered attractive in that stupid conventional way. He didn’t like it and he didn’t agree with it, but he’d be stupid to think that some girls and guys didn’t think so.

What the two of them were talking about, Bakugou hadn’t a clue since he was too far away to hear and had no intentions of getting any closer, but it didn’t matter. Uraraka was actually smiling. It wasn’t a forced smile as he’d hoped. He knew what those looked like, even though she was pretty good at hiding it from others. Monoma wore a calm look on his face and then smiled in return as he said something that made her laugh. He’d made her laugh and it wasn’t fake either.

Thankfully, Deku called to her from their table and Uraraka bid Monoma goodbye. He took her hand to say one more thing to him, which had her blushing, and then let go so she could walk away, looking quite content as she did so.

And then Monoma turned, caught eyes with Bakugou, and fucking winked.

Bakugou almost screamed.

“Bro, are you alright?”

“I’m fucking fine!” Bakugou snapped, knowing damn well that Kirishima could tell that he wasn’t.

This was so stupid. He hated every second of this. His stomach was in knots; his heart was lodged into his throat; his whole body felt hot enough to burn up; and his mind was a jumbled mess. He just wanted this to end. Was that too much to ask for? How could a little shit like Monoma get him so worked up? It wasn’t fair.

Kirishima sighed. “Whatever you say, but if you need to talk…”

Bakugou rounded on him. “Does it look like I need to talk about my fucking feelings?”

“Kind of,” Kirishima replied without any fear. “But I know you won’t, so let’s go find the others and eat. Maybe you’re just hangry for all I know, cranky pants.”

Eating did not help, not when he was no longer hungry. Bakugou spent the majority of lunch shoving his food around the tray and picking at bites. He didn’t even talk much, choosing to stay silent as he stewed over what Monoma could’ve possibly said to make her smile and laugh like that. He’d even taken her hand in his and made her blush. Was he that charming? Did Uraraka think he was? What would she do if he tried to do those things? Ugh, probably float him to the ceiling again since he’d been an ass to her yesterday.

If the others noticed his moodier and more reserved nature at lunch, they didn’t say anything, probably because of a look that Kirishima gave them. It was a good thing too. He was not in the mood for Ashido’s interrogation. She could pinpoint a crush a mile away like it was a sport. Not that he had a crush on Uraraka, but if she caught on to even a mere hint of one, she’d create a crush out of thin air. She loved the romance and drama of that shit and it would probably make her month if she thought that he had one, especially on one of her close girl friends.

No, no, he didn’t need any of his friends in his shit, not when it wasn’t important. Having Monoma in it was bad enough. His friends would blow it out of proportion and make his life even more miserable.

Two days later, Bakugou dragged himself into the common area of their dorms, exhausted from a sparring session with Kirishima, who looked equally tired. They’d ran themselves more ragged than usual in Bakugou’s attempt to expel all the extra energy that this rage and jealousy had been giving him. It had worked. By the time they had decided to call it quits and go back to the dorms, all he could think about was his bed. Luckily, Kirishima hadn’t complained about going harder than usual. He took everything in stride and considered it a win that he had not given up so easily.

Of course, something had to leap out and force his mind on another track that wasn't sleeping.

“Did I see you talking with Monoma earlier?” came Ashido’s voice from the couches.

“Oh, yeah, he wanted to compare notes on the joint combat battles we’ve been doing,” came Uraraka’s response.

Her voice was like some sort of static shock that short-circuited his brain, causing him to halt and zone in on where she, Ashido, and Asui were sitting. Was that how Kaminari felt whenever he overdid his quirk and fried his brain? One second, all Bakugou could think about was how much he wanted to sleep and now here he was doing his best not to look like he was listening in on a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with him.

“You coming?” Kirishima asked.

“Do I have to walk you to your dorm?” Bakugou demanded, annoyed at being interrupted. What were they saying now? The jerk had talked over Ashido’s reply.

Kirishima blew a raspberry. “After that sparring session, you might have to carry me.”

“I’m gonna get a drink before I go to bed,” Bakugou told him. “I don’t want to wake up with a headache because I didn’t hydrate enough like an idiot.”

“Whatever,” Kirishima huffed in exhaustion before wandering towards the elevator.

It was a good idea to drink some more water. He’d run out before their session ended and had continued to sweat up a storm even without using his quirk. After getting a glass of water, he rested against the corner, but kept the group of girls in the corner of his eyes. No, this wasn’t weird at all. It would just be a waste of time to take this glass to his room when he’d have to bring it back.

“And you said he was really nice?” Asui asked, sounding skeptical. “Not weird?”

Uraraka did that giggle-snort she sometimes did when she thought something was amusing in a dry way. “Well, I guess him being nice is kind of weird, right?”

“Super weird!” Ashido agreed. “He’s only nice to anyone in our class when he’s, you know, being mean.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what was up with him,” Uraraka said as she sunk back and pulled her legs up onto the couch. Bakugou couldn’t see her face from where she was sitting, but he could imagine her chewing her lip as she thought about something bothering her. “He, um, said that he couldn’t wait to see me in class tomorrow? That I was ‘very impressive’ or whatever.”

Ashido gasped. “Oh my god, do you think-?” She leaned forward and Bakugou did not need to see her to know that she was grinning like an idiot. “Do you think he has a crush on you?”

“Wh-what?” Uraraka’s voice was so high-pitch that he was surprised she hadn’t activated her quirk on herself and floated to the ceiling. She laughed, the sound so awkward that it would have fooled no one in the slightest. “That’s crazy talk. Monoma hates everyone in our class.”

Asui nodded. “He has had it out for us since day one.”

“Maybe it’s part of some secret plan,” Ashido continued in a tone that was far too serious for whatever dumb idea she had concocted. “He’s trying to infiltrate us and take us down from the inside by dating Uraraka!”

Uraraka scoffed. “That’s silly.”

Not to mention convoluted. Except… Bakugou gripped the glass tightly. Monoma was just doing this to get into his head. He was sure of it. That prick had never shown this much interest in Uraraka before until that day a little over a week ago. This marked the third time that Monoma had interacted with her though in less than a few days, although this last one had been when Bakugou wasn’t there to witness. That wink in the cafeteria told him that this had to do with him though. He was trying to take Bakugou down.

And fuck if it wasn’t messing with his head.

“He’s gonna ask her out,” Ashido decided, sitting upright and folding her arms. “I just know it.”

“He is not!” Uraraka protested.

Ashido was not swayed. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to ask you out after you basically turned Shishida into a baseball and knocked him out of the arena with a streetlight?”

Fuck, Bakugou had wanted to ask her out after witnessing that display of strength. The second she’d managed to cancel out Shishida’s gravity and wield that streetlamp like a baseball bat, a stray thought of, That’s the girl for me , had popped into his head. He’d been left doing mental cartwheels to explain it away even though no one else had heard him think it. When she’d come back to an excited hug from Deku and a high-five from Kirishima, all Bakugou could do was stick to himself and wish that he could sweep her in his arms. Which pissed him off. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to want that.

“It’s Monoma though,” Uraraka pointed out.

“He might be the worst,” Ashido replied sagely, “but he’s kind of hot.”

Bakugou felt winded by a stab of betrayal. How could Ashido say something like that? She could be stupid, but that was just plain idiotic! One of his friends couldn’t possibly think that. Saying something like that to Uraraka too? As if she needed that thought in her head. Was Ashido trying to push her to Monoma? What kind of friend did that? The guy was an egomaniac.

Oh, right.

Bakugou must have slammed his glass in the dishwasher too loud because he heard Uraraka ask, “Oh, Bakugou, how long have you been standing there?” Long enough, too long. He ignored her, as he’d been doing for a few days, and pretended as if he hadn’t heard her as he stormed out of the room. He was going to pass out and forget that he’d heard any of that conversation.

Things came to a head all of three days later on one of their days off. In each of those days before, Bakugou had witnessed two more excruciating interactions between Uraraka and Monoma, one during their joint class and the other in the gym. Since when did Monoma work out? She could literally crush him with her thighs. Bakugou had spent the next ten minutes trying to scrub that thought out of his brain. Why had he thought of that? The last place he wanted Monoma to be was…

Fuck. He had to think of something else.

The third time he came across them had to be purely by accident. Not even Monoma could have staged this, seeing as how Bakugou had changed his mind last minute about visiting his parents. While most of his classmates were either off-campus or doing homework in the dorms, he had decided to go for a jog. It was close to dusk, his favorite time to go for light runs. He didn’t go super hard all the time. However, on his way to the track, he spotted Uraraka walking out of the library building while Monoma held the door open for her.

Bakugou’s blood boiled and he froze on the spot. Again, he couldn’t hear what was being said from where he was, but he saw the gesture that Monoma made, offering to carry her books for her. She laughed a little and shook her head, opening her arms so that the books could float in the air. Over the past year, she’d worked on negating only a part of an object’s gravity. She was getting better about it every day, even able to use it on herself sometimes so that she could do these super cool jumps. It made his stomach flip, seeing her doing something silly like that with Monoma, and he dug his nails into his palms so hard that he nearly drew blood.

Before either one of them could see him, Bakugou ducked behind a tree and stayed there as they walked past him. This time, he couldn’t help but feel like a creep, but if he moved, they would see him. Monoma would not be able to resist acting like a bastard and Bakugou honestly didn’t know if he would be able to resist punching him in his smug face. It wasn’t because he was jealous. Well, okay, it was a little, but it wasn’t all that.

It just… It really fucking pissed him off that Monoma would use Uraraka to get under his skin.

(Unless he wasn’t using her. Unless it was all real. Bakugou didn’t know what was worse.)

“I actually really like it when we get to work with Class B,” Uraraka was saying as she poked the books gently ahead of her while she walked like a game. “We’ve all grown so much since our first year, but I’m around the others’ quirks so much. It’s nice to see something different.”

“You are quite different,” Monoma said, walking next to her with his hands in his pockets and a small knowing smile on his face.

He had known exactly how Uraraka would respond, blushing and clearing her throat before she continued, “Plus, it gives us a chance to work together instead of competing! Ah, well, I guess we’re still competing, but it helps us build each other up. I like that. We should work together more often.”

“I’ll admit to my reservations about Class A,” Monoma said.

“Reservations?” Uraraka snorted. “They’re a little more than that, I’d say.”

Monoma gave her a sheepish look. “You caught me.” He took one of his hands out of his pockets. “May I?”

She gave him a hesitant look, but then slowly nodded. The moment he touched her arm, Bakugou’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. His hand lingered longer than necessary, but then he pulled it away from her and touched his satchel. Uraraka was locked on it, an openly curious expression on her face. She took Monoma copying her quirk a lot better than him. He still burned with anger whenever he thought about how he’d taken a blast to the face by his own quirk that first time the two of them had clashed.

“I easily get jealous, a trait that I’m not particularly proud of,” Monoma said, sounding...genuine. Was he being honest? Was he being open? Bakugou tried not to gawk. There was no way this was happening. If there was one thing that Monoma was not, it was fucking genuine. That was...something that Bakugou wanted to do but couldn’t. If he could be more open with Uraraka, he wouldn’t be in this shit position hiding behind a tree. Seriously, what was wrong with him?

“You? Jealous? No way.” Uraraka was actually teasing him. No, this didn’t feel like getting stabbed at all. Monoma went to press a hand against his chest in mock-offense when Uraraka grabbed his wrist to stop him. “You’ll float yourself and get sick.”

Monoma pulled his hand away and she let go of him. “Nice save.” Bakugou felt a little put out. It would’ve made him feel a shit ton better had he done that. “I think it comes from my quirk though. For the longest time, I hated it.” That was surprising. It didn’t sound true and yet, besides him being a bastard, he didn’t know Monoma well. He didn’t know anyone in Class B well enough to say much about them besides that they weren’t worth his time with Ibara and Shishida being the exceptions. “I have to copy someone else’s quirk to have any power. I wanted a quirk that was entirely my own. I wanted the power to be mine alone instead of borrowing someone else’s.”

“I...never thought of your quirk that way,” Uraraka admitted.

“Most don’t consider other people’s quirks,” Monoma explained, “but I have to know everyone’s and I have a very limited amount of time to figure out how they work.” He pulled his other hand out of his pocket and pressed the pads of his fingers together. “Release.” The satchel dropped and he slung it back over his shoulder. Uraraka looked surprised, her eyebrows raised. Bakugou felt strangely embarrassed. Monoma had probably understood Uraraka’s quirk before even he had back in their first year and Bakugou had been the one to fight her. “I watch for people’s quirks so much though that I tend to forget the person behind it. To be honest, they usually don’t catch my eye. The quirk is far more interesting and of use to me.”

“Ah, there’s the Monoma I know.”

Bakugou would’ve felt relief had he not seen the way Monoma gazed down at her now. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists at his side, just waiting for that moment, when the other boy said, “Someone has caught attention though and I’d like to remedy that.”

He couldn’t do it -- he couldn’t stand there any longer -- and so he booked it for the track. The two of them were far enough where they wouldn’t hear him and they had their backs to him at this point. He didn’t dare look back just in case one of them turned around. That whole conversation hadn’t been at Bakugou’s expense at all -- unless Monoma was playing some sort of long game, which was possible too. After all, he couldn’t just ask Uraraka out without any precedent or building up to it. He had to make it believable. It seemed like so much work to just make him squirm though.

Was he so egotistical that this whole thing had to be about him? Maybe, just maybe, it really was about Uraraka. She was pretty incredible. Was he pissed that Monoma was using Uraraka to get at him or was he pissed that Monoma had the gall (the guts, the time, the willingness) to ask her out?

He didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know. All he knew was that he didn’t want Uraraka to get hurt over some stupid, petty fight that he wanted nothing to do with.

The next day, Bakugou set out on a mission. He left the dorms before anyone else, heading towards the cafeteria for breakfast, where he waited outside. Making sure to look busy reading so that no one would bother him in case one of his friends came by and got nosy, he kept his eyes peeled for a certain someone. About twenty minutes into waiting, he spotted his target. After snapping his book shut and jamming it into his backpack, he stormed through the crowd like a guided missile.

Before anyone could say or do anything, Bakugou barreled his way through the small group of Class B kids and snatched Monoma by the front of his shirt. “We need to talk,” he growled as he continued to push through the crowd, taking the other boy with him.

Kendo spun on her feet, activating her quirk and enlarging her hand to snatch Bakugou and stop him. “Monoma-”

But Monoma held up both of his hands, taking care not to touch him and not looking afraid in the slightest. In fact, he looked like he’d been expecting this. “Go on without me. I’ll meet you in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure?” Tetsutetsu asked, clenching his fists in a way that suggested he was ready to fight Bakugou right outside of the mess hall. Oh, so the bastard had friends ready to defend him at a moment’s notice. How nice.

“He said he just wanted to talk,” Monoma insisted calmly, but then he smiled in a way that made Bakugou want to growl all over again. “Let this Class A extra get something off his chest.”

Despite looking more than hesitant, Kendo, Tetsutetsu, and the others walked into the mess hall without him. Monoma arched an eyebrow at him and Bakugou let go of him. As if on cue, he turned and walked to a more private area of the hall. Yeah, he’d definitely been expecting this, which irritated the hell out of Bakugou. He didn’t like the idea that he was predictable.

As Monoma fixed the front of his shirt and collar of his jacket, he asked, “Any particular reason you felt the urge to assault me before breakfast or has terrorizing Class A proved too boorish?”

Bakugou scowled. “You know damn well why I’m here.”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Monoma replied as he adjusted his tie. Despite his overly innocent tone, the smug, knowing expression on his face suggested otherwise. Gods, he had a face that just screamed punch me. He wasn’t going to admit to anything until Bakugou copped to it first. Monoma wasn’t the most stubborn person on the planet, but he was willing to go to extremes to be above someone and indeed he had the upper hand here.

That pressure, along with the image of Uraraka’s blushing and smiling face, was too much to take. “Uraraka.”

“What about her?”

“Leave her alone,” Bakugou snarled.

Monoma’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I wasn’t aware that you had a claim over her. She’s not your property.” Of course she wasn’t. He’d never presume to think such a thing. He never had, even with all of those stupid, complex emotions towards her swirling in his mind for months. It wasn’t her fault that he couldn’t get rid of them. She didn’t owe him shit for how he felt. “I can talk with her if I like. Just because you won’t act on your crush--”

“I don’t have a crush on her!” Bakugou snapped.

“--doesn’t mean that she’s off limits until you gather the courage to do so,” Monoma continued effortlessly. He wagged a finger and tsked, as if scolding a child. “She told me what awful thing you said to her the other day. It’s almost like you want her to hate you.”

It would have been so much easier if she had, but no, that was the last thing that he wanted. He could admit that now, as much as it embarrassed him. The fact that she had told Monoma about that made him flush with even more humiliation. How far had he fallen?

Yelling and sniping at Monoma weren’t getting him anywhere. He had to take a different approach, one that the other boy wouldn’t expect from him. Fuck, he had to be reasonable, but still intimidating. He had to… Gods, was he really going to have to go to the level that Monoma wanted him to go? Somehow, some way, he’d get back at him later for this shit.

Swallowing his pride, Bakugou folded his arms across his chest. “You’re only talking to her to get under my skin. I know you’re used to using underhanded tricks like the worm that you are, but if you’re gonna fuck with me, then don’t involve her. I get it -- you don’t like me and I sure as hell don’t like you -- but involving her is petty as fuck.”

“Caring about the collateral damage, are we?” Monoma asked.

“She’s not--” Bakugou clamped his mouth shut. Monoma was trying to drag him further into this and he was leaping headfirst into the trap. “Listen here, fuck face, if you hurt her feelings just to piss me off, you are not going to like the results.”

Monoma actually had the audacity to laugh, a little maniacally as usual. “You think this is just some sort of game that revolves around you?” He began to walk away, done with the conversation, but then paused to look back. “Did you ever stop to consider that it has nothing to do with you at all? Uraraka stood out enough for you, the most arrogant person in U.A. to notice. Maybe you aren’t the only one.”

“You saying that you actually like her?” Bakugou demanded in a bark, his heart beginning to give the first signs of him having a heart attack. He’d always known that other guys would like her -- how could they not? -- but barring the idea that Deku was a rival for him, he’d never really been forced to face it up front. She wasn’t some sort of prize to win -- she was so much more than that -- but the idea that he had competition that not only would make a move but had done so before him was not pleasant.

“Maybe it did start out as a way to make you squirm -- and it’s been great, believe me,” Monoma told him, a savage grin on his face, “but things do change. Uraraka sure is full of surprises, isn’t she?”

Bakugou felt as if the entire world stopped on its axis as he watched Monoma laugh again and walk away. He couldn’t move, couldn’t school his face into an expression that wasn’t a stupid mixture of shock and fury, couldn’t get his brain to work as it screamed at him to do something. All he could think to do was hurt Monoma and he couldn’t do that. Not only had he been called out entirely, but the stupid shit was right. As much as it pained and pissed him off to admit it, Monoma wasn’t wrong at all.

This whole mess was his fault. He’d ignored how he felt for so long -- he’d kept telling himself that Uraraka wasn’t important and was just a distraction to what he wanted -- that there was a possibility that he’d lost his chance. He had spent so long pretending like it didn’t exist that he’d missed the knife being dug in between in ribs. Had Monoma been the one to twist it or had it been himself? Bakugou couldn’t tell. All he knew was that he couldn’t take this feeling anymore. She wasn’t the distraction; the jealousy was. Once again, he’d been his own enemy and Monoma had used that to his advantage.

Whatever the case, he had to figure this shit out before it was too late.

For the rest of the day, Bakugou worked on just calming down. He knew that his friends were suspicious about his behavior, but thankfully none of them said anything. He had to prep himself though. He couldn’t fly off the handle; he couldn’t act like a total ass; he couldn’t make a wrong move. The issues were that he felt like he could explode at any minute; he was most definitely an ass; and he didn’t know what the right move was. The last time he and Uraraka had spoken had been on decent but lukewarm terms at best since it had been during class. For all he knew, she wanted nothing to do with him.

Besides, he’d realized after talking with Monoma that what he wanted didn’t matter much. In the end, all that truly mattered was what Uraraka wanted. It didn’t matter if he liked her. It didn’t matter if he was filled with so much jealousy that he felt sick with it. If she didn’t like him, that was that. With the way he’d been acting, he wouldn’t be surprised if she only felt uncomfortable around him if he acted on how he felt or was honest with her.

The idea that he could be rejected seriously hadn’t occurred to him, if only because he’d kept telling himself that none of it mattered. Like some arrogant bastard, he had thought that only he was holding himself back. Now that another insecurity had been added into the mix, it made things all the worse.

By the time dinner rolled around, Kirishima couldn’t hold his curiosity in any longer, hunching over the table to block everyone else out of their conversation. “Okay, seriously, what gives, Bakugou? You’ve been acting weird all day, maybe even all week.”

“I’m fine,” Bakugou replied sharply, but without any actual heat. His gaze wasn’t on Kirishima, but had locked in on Uraraka when she slunk into the common area. She’d just come back from the gym with Deku and Todoroki, all sweaty, pink-faced, and exhausted. She looked great.

Kirishima sat back and shook his head. “That was scary. You’re way too calm.”

“I can be calm,” Bakugou snapped, tearing his eyes away from Uraraka briefly to glare at Kirishima before moving his gaze back over.

“That’s more like it.” Kirishima followed his gaze and sighed. “Just go talk to her.” Bakugou grit his teeth and returned to digging into his dinner with the sort of viciousness meant for wolves while they tore into a deer. He wasn’t going to respond to that. “The only one who doesn’t seem to know how you feel is her.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bakugou demanded.

“I mean,” Kirishima continued, absolutely unafraid by the heat in Bakugou’s red eyes, “if it wasn’t obvious before by the way you freaking light up when she does something badass, you nearly having a nuclear meltdown whenever Monoma gets anywhere near her made it impossible to miss.”

Bakugou’s face flushed. Okay, so he’d known that his ability to put a cap on his jealousy had started to deteriorate, but he hadn’t realized it had been that bad even before. Had other people seen it and figured it out before Monoma and just not said anything to him? Why? Because they wanted him to come to this conclusion on his own or because they didn’t want to piss him off? Maybe they’d actually decided to give him some privacy and time. No, that was ridiculous. If either Kaminari or Ashido had known, they would’ve badgered him relentlessly.

Unless Kirishima, despite usually nosing his way into Bakugou’s business, had acted as a stop gate this time. After all, he and Ashido were close friends with Uraraka too. Did they know something that he didn’t?

“This is fucking stupid,” Bakugou grumbled. “I don’t have time for this.”

“You’re right,” Kirishima replied, pointing a chopstick at him. “You’re wasting all your time on this jealousy crap when you could be doing something about it.” When Bakugou frowned, he shrugged his shoulders and shoveled some more food into his mouth. Did he have to eat so fast? It wasn’t like he was a kid anymore. He swallowed and huffed. “She doesn’t like Monoma in that way if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not,” Bakugou said flatly. (He was.)

“But you keep waiting around like a stick in the mud and she will find someone more worth her time or she might even grow to like Monoma,” Kirishima told him emphatically. “Because she’s awesome. You know it. I know it. Others will too. And you’re going to be left in the dust because you’re either too scared, too stupid, or too arrogant.”

Bakugou snorted. “Have you met me?”

Kirishima dared to crack a grin. “You’re right. Arrogant isn’t a strong enough word.”

“You’re shit at giving pep talks,” Bakugou said as he pushed aside his empty bowl. “You know that, right?”

“Well, it was either me or Mina,” Kirishima told him. “I think she already had a list of first date ideas planned that she was going to sell you on.” On second thought, yeah, he was great at giving pep talks. If it had been Ashido in his place, Bakugou would’ve likely blown a gasket. She was way more aggressive in her approach. “Now go on: be brave and get the fuck over yourself. You’re a huge pain in the ass when you’re jealous.”

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou grabbed his empty bowl and glass and took it into the kitchen to wash them. As if by some design of fate, Uraraka walked in as well. Tired as she was, her face wasn’t as flushed anymore. She brushed past him, mumbling an apology, and started to root through the cabinets, probably for something sweet to snack on. She’d never get over that sweet tooth.

“Top shelf on the left,” Bakugou told her. “Kaminari hides his candy there.”

Uraraka turned around to stare at him and then smiled. “Thanks!”

Using her quirk on herself, she floated to reach the space that he’d seen Kaminari kneel on the counter to reach. Upon finding his stash, she pushed down on the ceiling to get closer to the floor and then released her quirk. She took a piece of candy and popped it into her mouth, looking quite content with herself. After a moment’s hesitation, she held the bag out to him and, despite the fact that it wasn’t his favorite, he took a piece as well.

“Ugh, this was just what I needed,” Uraraka moaned.

Bakugou did not let that get to him, but he still rolled his shoulders. “A reward for going to the gym?”

“Exactly!” Uraraka exclaimed, pointing the bag of candy at him. “It’s a little trick. I can only get some candy if I meet my goal. Besides, we all deserve a little reward here and there.”

“You’re really pushing yourself hard, huh?”

“Well I’ve got to if I’m going to keep up with everyone else,” Uraraka said very seriously around a mouthful of candy. “I was so caught up in my first year how amazing people like you, Deku, and Todoroki were and how I should be more like you all that I wasn’t focused on myself.”

Bakugou sneered, but there wasn’t any rage behind it and she could tell. “Those nerds wish they were as amazing as me.” She laughed at that, though not mockingly or at him. Had it been anyone else responding like that, he might have bristled, but with her, it just made him feel good. She genuinely thought he was awesome. Granted, so did Deku, but he wasn’t going to get into that mess.

This was what he liked, these little conversations that the two of them slipped into without thinking. It was easy to talk to her. It was easy to talk with Kirishima too, but it felt different with her, somehow lighter. She could sass him just as much as his friends, but unlike with them, he felt this all-consuming urge to impress her, which tripped him up half the time and made him say something stupid.

“Listen, Uraraka, about the other day…”

“You were really mean,” Uraraka cut in, not leaving any room for his usual defensive bullshit.

“Yeah, I was.”

Uraraka frowned, pleased with his honesty but upset that it had happened in the first place. Bakugou wasn’t all that good at apologizing. In fact, it could probably be considered one of his weakest skills. As intelligent as he was, words failed him in those moments and the idea of lowering himself to that level grated on his nerves and made him uncomfortable. Bringing it up though was a step in the right direction.

“I’m used to you being an ass -- wouldn’t really be you if you weren’t -- but you’re normally not…” She glanced down at the candy. “You don’t go out of your way to hurt people’s feelings.”

“Yeah, I was acting out because…” Bakugou’s fingers twitched his sides. He didn’t want to talk about this. He could just apologize and move on. He’d get over this. Eventually, it had to fade away and he would look back on this moment years later and laugh about it. He didn’t need anyone else. He just… He just needed…

Are you really that weak that you’re going to let Monoma be braver than you?

“I was jealous,” Bakugou blurted.

Uraraka raised her eyebrows, clearly taken aback, and nearly dropped the bag of candy. “Jealous? Why? Of who?”

Bakugou growled irritably and held a hand over his eyes. Now that he was standing here talking with her about this, it sounded stupid. How much of an idiot could he be? “Monoma.” As soon as the word left his mouth, Uraraka burst out into laughter and had to put a hand over her mouth to muffle it so that the few people in the common area wouldn’t gawk at them. When he pulled his hand away, he was disgruntled to see that she was having trouble stopping herself. “It’s not that funny!”

“I mean…” Uraraka pulled her hand away and bit her lip. “It kind of is.” She giggled again. “ Monoma ? Really?”

“It’s stupid, okay?” The words began pouring out of him without a filter, which he was most definitely going to regret later but couldn’t stop right now. “He figured out that I like you and made fun of me, which could have been the end of it, but no, he just… It was like he was all over you. At first I thought he was just doing it to get under my skin, which pissed me off since I didn’t want him to use you like a tool to mock me, but then I started to think that he actually liked you and I-- Why wouldn’t he? What if it wasn’t about me at all but you? I was angry and confused and I didn’t know what to do--”

By the time he managed to cut himself off, absolutely red in the face, Uraraka was outright gawking at him like he’d grown a second head. What the fuck had just happened? He’d only come in here to apologize, not spill his guts like some sort of sap. He was breathing heavily and very aware of the fact that his heart was thundering in his chest like a rabbit being chased by a pack of dogs. In the back of his mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Deku told him that this was what happened when he held things in for too long. He did not need that right now.

“You, um, you like me?” Uraraka managed in a tone that said she was trying to be casual and failed.

Bakugou harrumphed. “Apparently it’s fucking obvious to everyone.”

“Wasn’t to me,” Uraraka said quietly.

“Me either,” Bakugou muttered. “Guess we’re both oblivious idiots.”

Uraraka watched him without saying anything for a while, as if gathering her thoughts. It made Bakugou want to squirm again, but he stood his ground. The ball was in her court now. He’d practically launched it at her and dared her to respond. Whatever she decided, he would respect. At least Kirishima had said that she didn’t like Monoma. She could like anyone else, even Deku or Todoroki or Iida, and he wouldn’t be upset. Disappointed? Fucking hell he would be, but that wasn’t something he could fight.

“So, jealous, huh?” Uraraka finally said. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Well, ignoring it until it either goes away or I die hasn’t worked for me so far,” Bakugou replied dryly.

Uraraka smiled. “I’ve got an idea.”

Bakugou scoffed. “Oh yeah?”

“But you might be too scared,” Uraraka pointed out, her cheeks burning pink again like she’d run a mile.

“I’m not scared of shit,” Bakugou said heatedly.

Uraraka shrugged her shoulders. “You could take me on a date.” She popped a candy in her mouth. “Maybe you can even make Monoma jealous.”

A wolfish grin appeared on Bakugou’s face as they stared each other down. Judging from the way she wasn’t backing down in the slightest, he knew that she was serious. Granted, in his head, he’d always pictured being the one to ask her out on a date, but seeing as how he’d spent months avoiding this outcome, yeah, he should have expected it. Uraraka was a fighter. She gave as good as she got. It was one of the reasons he liked her so much in the first place.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Bakugou said, burning with pride and really quite pleased with himself.

Uraraka giggled a little. “I’m expecting great things.”

“It’s gonna be the best fucking first date of your life,” Bakugou said and he meant it. Okay, so maybe he was going to have to find Ashido and figure out what sorts of ideas she had come up with, seeing as how he knew jack shit about dates, but he swore that it was going to be good. She was going to have so much fun. He wanted to kiss her right now, just for looking so infuriatingly cute eating Kaminari’s stolen candy, but he refrained himself. None of that mattered, not when for the first time in months, that old ugly feeling of jealousy was completely gone from his chest, making him feel lighter than air.

It turned out that the best way to get rid of it was to work through it. After being at U.A. for almost two years, he should have figured that out by now, but at least he was working on improving. That was all he could do. Without that monster clawing in the back of his mind though, he could already breathe easier. It didn’t matter what Monoma said or did. It didn’t matter what Bakugou said or did. It what Uraraka’s choice.

And she’d chosen him.

#katsuki bakugou #ochako uraraka #kacchako #monoma neito #bnha #bakuraka #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou x uraraka #katsuki x ochako #uraraka x monoma #bnha fanfiction #kacchako discord #the things of songs

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five-wow · 5 years

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to avoid extreme spam of anyone brave enough to follow me, i’m putting all of my 9.12 thoughts in one post. tl;dr: i loved it.

the (much, much) longer version:

the “previously on” starts with scenes from episode three or four of season one oh gosh

THIS IS A GRACE HIGHLIGHTS REEL. I’M ALREADY EMOTIONAL

first question of the night: rachel wakes up and finds that grace didn’t come home so she jumps in the car and races to danny’s, but where did she leave charlie in the middle of the night??? i’m assuming he was with her

i’ve already seen this very first bit in one of the previews but still: grace was driving a car that stan bought her two weeks ago and that DIDN’T HAVE PLATES YET and nobody told danny. there are so many things wrong with that

these actors are both so good in their despair though. the opening credits are just now starting and my heart has already been squeezed to a pulp???

steve!!! the very first thing we see after the credits is steve, sick with worry, half running into the hospital and speeding up when he sees danny to wrap him in a hug. he does this little hop thing?? that kills me??

so steve squeezes danny (and it kind of looks a little like danny was going for a handshake bro hug thing but steve just bulldozered over him and gave him the real hug they should be having? good steve) and then he rushes to rachel to hug her too, like a matter of course. i like that

oh noooo. the other girl’s dad turns up and blames he crash on grace (understandable under the circumstances but not helpful in the least) and as soon as steve realizes what’s happening he steps over to situate himself in between this guy and danny??? i love steve so much gosh

duke turns up with critical info and he tells steve about it??? not danny or rachel, and admittedly he maybe has a stronger bond with steve i guess but at least danny he definitely knows pretty well too (they’re ohana too, right?) but he tells steve about what’s technically danny’s daughter and there’s so many things to be read into that (the main thing obviously being that steve is as good as grace’s parent too and it’s canon fdjkfdjk)

i’m five minutes in at this point and i already have this much commentary. this is going to be long

i think i’ve said this before but: it’s not necessarily bad that stan bought grace a car. it’s not bad either that rachel didn’t tell danny, but if what rachel says and it’s because grace wanted to tell danny herself, then rachel should have put her foot down and not let grace go out with the car (that didn’t have plates yet??? that can’t be legal right?) until grace had actually told danny about it!!! rachel just doesn’t learn from her past mistakes about not telling danny shit about their kids that danny DEFINITELY should have been told and it’s a believable character flaw but it’s so painful

“there’s all kinds of things that happen that you should’ve told me about that you don’t tell me about, i’m used to it, alright? i’m used to it.” danny fucking knows and this is honestly the number one reason why romantic danny/rachel can’t ever work again as far as i’m concerned because it would be built on so much resentment and pain and pure shit that it’s just too much to put behind you, because they won’t ever be able to fully, completely trust each other again (and not all of it would be rachel’s fault, btw, i’m not saying that - it’s just that when she fucks up, she fucks up big time)

“i’m a cop now. i’ll keep it professional.” [cut to tani pushing her suspect out of his chair and onto the floor] well, you know, she’s got a point there. that’s exactly what professional looks like to five-0 (i like this secondary plotline a lot though! tani as protective and slightly violent older sister is super interesting)

danny is calling steve to update him even though there’s barely any knews because steve deserves to know everything (and probably because danny’s wants to hear his voice, lbr) and it’s good

this phone call between tani and junior is also super sweet!! (though it does kind of add obvious fuel to the fire of parallels they’re drawing between tani&junior and danny&steve, whether that’s something you like or not)

the whole team is so concerned about danny and of course they are but it’s still really good to see!!

of course grace can’t just get in a car accident, it has to be some kind of a crime. (i don’t even really mind but it’s just so predictable, gosh. they need someone to blame)

kamekona and flippa are bringing food to the hospital!!! that’s so thoughtful!

charlie! he exists in this episode! i’m still slightly fuzzy on where he was all night (because noelani comes in with him but the way she then asks charlie if he wants to hang out doesn’t seem like he’s been with her this whole time, so where the hell was he?) but it’s good to see him now, at least

also!!! noelani babysitting charlie!!! EVERYONE IS HELPING OUT. OHANA. <3

danny had noelani bring some stuff for rachel which is good and kind but the sweatshirt thing makes me... a little concerned... about romantic connotations. but i’m stubbornly deciding to read this as a purely platonic gesture to help out a sort-of-friend/co-parent

OOPS steve calls because they located a phone that grace received a threatening text message from at the hospital, but is leading danny to this person really a good idea right now? oh gosh

oh god grace was helping a classmate that got bullied and she dropped a girl’s phone in someone’s beer to stop her from showing around a picture and i love grace

the thing is, right. the thing is. I KNOW that grace is going to be okay because she’ll be in the next episode, eating pancakes at danny’s and laughing with steve, but i’m STILL almost crying watching danny and rachel wait with all this sickening tension without knowing anything and then watching them rush to get some news only to hear there’s been a complication and all they can do, AGAIN, is wait more

it’s GOOD but it’s SO PAINFUL

steve, junior and lou watch a security tape of zippy’s where some creepy guy keeps coming up to grace and katie’s table and then grace gets up and clearly tells the guy to go away and a) that’s really good on its own but also b) steve’s proud “atta girl”!!! yes!!!

danny apologizes for being mean about the car, holy shit. and yes, he was a little mean, maybe, but he was also incredibly stressed and he had a right to be angry, god.

“i should have been more honest with you. about a lot of things.” at least rachel had realized that much, omg.

rachel is playing the “what if” game and danny tells her that she shouldn’t and it’s actually a really nice moment. i like this.

THAT VIDEO. and both rachel and danny just crying and crying and the mutual forehead kisses and comfort??? i think i’ve made it pretty clear that i don’t ever want romantic danny/rachel again but this? i LOVE this. they can’t be a couple but they can still be a team and family in this weird way through their kids.

danny is just sitting on the floor in a hallway now and steve finds him and sits down next to him before they even say a single word and i’m already swamped with feelings just from that. i’m easy like that djfdkjf

steve says that grace is really taking after danny by going after bullies and standing up for the little guy and danny says “i think maybe she gets that from you more than me” anD I AM DECEASED. RIP ME. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HANDLE THESE FAMILY FEELS??

i’m not going to quote their entire conversation about steve being in more of grace’s pictures than danny and steve saying they should throw grace a big graduation party in steve’s backyard and danny actually smiling about something but i COULD because this is EVERYTHING I EVER WANT.

rachel finds them with the news that grace is OKAY and FUCK YES but also???? danny and steve’s expressions of relief???? are the exact same??????? and then there’s THAT ONE HUG that involves danny and rachel and steve, all three of them, and at this point literally nobody can convince me that steve isn’t as much a parent to grace as either of these other two

ALSO. LET ME JUST TALK ABOUT THAT HUG FOR A BIT. danny and rachel fall into each other’s arms because duh, at this point, of course you’d hug, and danny kind of swings them around a bit and then REACHES FOR STEVE who’s standing there right next to them with his hands on his hips and just DIVES into it and rachel makes room for him too? and then they’re CLINGING TO EACH OTHER and steve has closed his eyes and wrapped himself around them and he has his chin on danny’s shoulder and danny is smushed between them and have i given of the vibe that I LOVE THIS yet because I DO

grace! we get to see grace in color for the first time this episode!

there’s a party for grace at danny’s home!!! and danny says he didn’t know about it and i’m leaning towards believing him because i can easily be 100% convinced that this was steve’s doing oh gosh

GRACE AND STEVE HUG. literally just the hug content in this episode is lethal to me oh shit

“we’re still here, okay. anytime you need us, we got you.” PRIME DAD!STEVE. FUCK YES.

djfdjkfd @ steve somewhere in the background when kamekona mentions the restaurant going “i still prefer the name steve’s”

koah’s thing about appreciating tani and appreciating being brought into this big weird family????? almost made me cry again

OH NO. yep i was bracing for this already because i’d seen enough people talking about this, but i’m at the end, with danny and rachel outside at a small table and danny brings her some food they ate at their first date and she points that out and he says that it’s on the menu because it was their first date meal and, uhhhh, no. nope. don’t do that, come on, guys, what the fuck

alright, so yes, there are pretty undeniable flirting vibes here, but i’m stubborn. i’m still going to deny them. i’m going to view this as a happy end where danny and rachel have been brought a little closer together as divorced parents of two kids and where they can share a moment again without it devolving into a fight and i’m choosing to let that be all it is. and steve’s look and smile at them? that would honestly be out of character if it was supposed to be “oh i’m happy that danny might be getting back together with his ex-wife” so obviously i’m going to interpret that as “oh i’m happy that danny and rachel seem to be getting along platonically because that’ll make danny and grace and charlie’s life easier”

okay, now that i’ve seen all of it, two things:

what happened to katie??? she was just as bad off as grace from what we heard but we never got to hear if she was alright??? and the thing with her dad was never resolved either???

MELISSA. remember, danny’s girlfriend??? i’m about 99.9% sure we never heard that she and danny broke up, unless i missed something, and i don’t think i did. so. what the fuck are we supposed to think there? i’m not certain they’ve mentioned her once this season but at the same time danny was definitely teasing steve about his lack of dates in 9.01 and that was a prime opportunity for steve to say something, anything, to danny about danny’s dating life as a comeback, but they didn’t take that chance so at that time i assumed he was still with melissa. but? now they seem to be doing this thing with rachel? and melissa has been forgotten? i see people in the fandom say that danny is single all the time and i get it because at this point it’s an assumption that makes sense, with how little melissa has been mentioned for seasons now, but we’ve never gotten confirmation of that and it bugs the hell out of me because she’s a character that supposedly played a big role in his life at one point and she was in multiple episodes and now they don’t even have the time for like, one line of dialogue that somehow tells us what’s what? the complete irony here is that i never really liked danny and melissa’s relationship (she is so young for him, and that’s just the start of it) and now i sound like i’m defending it when really i just don’t want this poor woman to be treated so ridiculously. i swear i’m going to file a missing persons report omfg where is melissa #melissadeservedbetter

aside from my bitterness about melissa though - i LOVED this episode. it was tense and painful and i’m as concerned about the danny/rachel hints as the next guy, but it’s not that explicit here and i do like seeing them together as friends so i’m good with it for the most part for now? and there was SUCH good dad!steve content and some amazing steve/danny and the steve-danny-rachel hug killed me as much as i’d hoped and there was a steve and danny hug and a steve and grace hug and the sideplot was great too and i loved seeing tani and koah together more, and i just??? really loved almost every second of it a lot

#h50 #9.12 #I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS GUYS #i also didn't really reread this after watching the episode because it already took me two hours with how much i kept pausing it #to write all of this #so i hope it's readable oh gosh #*#the melissa mystery

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