#but! JUST! STILL! like.. the way she responds to stuff… the delayed reactions. the attempts to just roll w the punches. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lettersinscarlet · 3 years

Text

Holidays with Bakugo (Katsuki Bakugo Imagine)

Yo yo yo, Wassup? It’s me! I’m back, finally, and honestly it’s been forever since I’ve got to write, but here I am. I’m so excited that people are liking my blog for my other fandoms, and I hope that I can start doing more things. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I might’ve gotten a little carried away, because this is long. But that’s fine. Anyway, love you guys, and I hope you enjoy this! Yes, my requests are open, just check who I write for and it might take me a while to write it!

———————————————————————

You stood outside of the classroom doors, adjusting your hair, squaring your shoulders, and lastly, putting a quick smile on your face before you walked in the door. It had been a rough couple of weeks, but you just had to make it one more day before school was let out for holiday.

Honestly, the way it happened still confused you, and it still just didn’t make sense. You’d lived with your aunt ever since you were a little kid. Your parents had gotten in an unfortunate accident, and so she’d stepped up to take care of you, and it had been that way for as long as you could remember. She was just in the kitchen, nothing out of the ordinary, when you heard her collapse to the floor from the other room. Apparently, she’d had a heart attack. Currently, she was in the hospital, but she was still in the intensive care unit, and things weren’t looking all that great. There was some type of complication the doctor’s couldn’t figure out, and she was currently hooked up to a life support machine. No one at school knew just yet, but you just had to make it one more day before you could go home and not have to worry about people feeling bad for you. It didn’t really help that it was the holiday season either.

You strode into the classroom, stopping to make some brief conversation with your friends, before you slipped into your seat. From the row in front of you, a familiar blonde looked over his shoulder as you sat down.

“You’re later than usual, dumbass. Almost thought you weren’t coming,” he muttered before turning back to the front. You stuck your tongue out, not that he could see, but then you just went back to getting your stuff ready for the day.

Since Bakugo had been in the seat in front of you from the first day, you’d eventually established a connection because you always had to ask him to move his head so you could copy down notes. At this point, he’d learned to duck a little so you could actually see, but sometimes when he wanted to annoy you, he’d be obstinate about not moving. It was aggravating, so you’d just throw a spare pen at the back of his head as your attempt to get him to move. It worked most of the time.

The day passed rather uneventfully, which was good for you. Since school was about to let out for break, it’s not like your teachers were trying to overload you with work. Most classes were pretty relaxed, or working with your quirks some of you didn’t have another plan. This worked out well for you, because it meant you didn’t have to really focus, and your mind was free to wander, most of the time drifting back to your aunt. You wondered how she was doing, if she was showing any signs of improvement, and things like that. So, when the final bell rang for the day, it surprised you and snapped you out of your thoughts.

The class soon erupted into chatter, and from what you could hear of it, everyone was talking about what they were going to do over the break. You swore you could hear Denki already planning a big snowball fight with people in the class, and it made you smile a little. You just hoped that no one would ask you what you planned to do, because you truly didn’t feel like telling anyone you’d be spending most of your time at the hospital with your aunt.

And you nearly made it out the door, before a certain green haired boy stopped you.

“(Y/N)!” he called, a bright smile on his face. You were quick to smile back, making a little conversation with him. “So, what are you doing over the break?”

Instead of sighing, you just made your smile a little wider. Sure, it was forced, but you were certain that he wouldn’t notice. “I don’t have a lot planned, but spending some time with my aunt, doing some last minute decorations, maybe even ice skating,” you answered, hoping that would be enough.

Midoriya just grinned, and he proceeded to ramble about the things he had planned. You made sure to stay engaged in the conversation, and eventually you made your way out the doors. Instantly, that sigh you were holding onto left, and you shook your head. It was only one person, which was better than it could have been, but still, it was just hard to think about. You started walking out of the school building, heading to the gate so you could go home.

“Hey, dumbass!” a familiar voice called, and you stopped in your tracks. Ah, Bakugo. You heard his heavy footsteps coming up from behind you, and you waited until he caught up with you to keep walking. “What took you so long? You know I don’t have all day,” he huffed, tilting his chin up some, taking a side glance at you.

You’d forgotten that you still had the walk home before you’d finally be isolated for a bit. How you could forget, you didn’t know, but you’d been so focused on making it through the day you’d let it slip your mind. Bakugo always walked home with you, and honestly, you couldn’t pin point exactly when. You noticed that you’d taken similar routes, and eventually, you just walked closer together until it was a habit to walk together.

You realized you hadn’t responded yet, and you quickly shook your head, going to postpone the thoughts until you got home. It was just a walk, you could last. “Oh, I was just testing to see how long you’d wait for me. Just as I predicted, you stayed like a loyal puppy,” you snickered, smirking at him. Instantly, he was indignant, attempting to huff out a response, but it was just a disgruntled noise instead. You laughed, and you both started walking again and acting like usual.

The conversation seemed pretty normal on your end, and you actually thought you were doing pretty well. What you didn’t realize is that Bakugo knew something was up before you’d officially left school grounds. He was more observant than you liked to give him credit for, at least, he could be if he tried, and he did attempt it. He noticed your responses were either delayed or distracted, and you didn’t make fun of him nearly half as much as you used to. He was even just a little hesitant to make fun of you, and he was even careful about the names he called you. He alternated between nicknames, your name, and then your full name, and none of it really seemed to get a rise out of you. His expression had turned methodical as he tried to piece this together. He knew that break was coming up, and everyone was pretty excited. Hell, even he was looking forward to some of the little traditions he had, not like he would admit it. Bakugo knew some about your situation, because you talked about your aunt a lot, so why weren’t you acting like yourself?

He made up his mind to test his theory. He waited until it had been quiet for a moment, and then he called your name. “(Y/N),” he said, his voice a bit stern. You, of course, were zoned out. You were focusing on how long until you made it to your doorstep, and it was a little bit away. Just had to make it a little further. “(Y/N),” he repeated, agitation slipping into his voice. Still, no response. “(Y/N)!” he yelled, this time reaching over and lightly pushing your arm. Not enough to make you fall, but enough for you to realize he was talking to you.

Your head snapped over to him, and then it hit you that you had not been paying attention, at least for the last five minutes. But you can’t just admit that, so instead, a look of annoyance was placed on your face. “What do you want, Boom Boy?” you snarked.

“Ah, finally. I’ve got some sort of response from you,” he huffed, his tone clearly exasperated. But hey, at least you’re back to reality now.

“Sorry, but it seems you’re just not interesting enough for me today,” you shrugged, just trying to play it off. Honestly, you felt a little bad, but you couldn’t just say that, not when you’ve got so much going on at the moment.

He stopped for a second, just looking you over. Almost like he was analyzing you. You stopped as well, sighing before you turned to look at him. “That’s bullshit,” he replied, his eyes meeting yours. His expression was more aggravated than angry, but you could still tell that this was bothering him.

“That’s the-“

“It’s bullshit! You’ve been like this all day, so I know it’s not just me. In second period, Pikachu nearly choked on a piece of gum, and you didn’t even seem phased. You barely ate lunch, you haven’t talked to anyone unless it was necessary. You were actually quiet all day, and it was weird. So no, I’m not believing your shitty excuses, so are you going to tell me what’s actually wrong, or are we going to stand here all day?” he finished, glaring at you.

It was an intense standoff, him just waiting for your reaction, and you trying to process how he’d noticed all that. You thought he was just making this up, but the more you thought about it, it seemed like he really had been paying attention.

“So Kaminari almost choked on his gum?” you finally asked, crossing your fingers and hoping you could get out of this. “Sounds like something he does every other day,” you said, adding a little laugh at the end of it. But by the look on his face, you could tell he was not amused. You sighed, a hand going up to mess with your hair, breaking the eye contact. “Can we just not talk about it? It’s no big deal,” you lied, just wanting him to drop the subject.

“So you finally admit that there’s something,” he huffed, a little satisfied that his conclusion had been correct, but he wasn’t willing to just let it go that easily. Because he’s stubborn like that. “Come on. If it’s enough to keep you preoccupied and zoned out for a whole day, clearly it is a big deal,” he argued. He noticed you wouldn’t look at him, and that peeved him, but he’s working with one thing at a time here.

“Bakugo, it’s nothing,” you insisted, forcing your eyes to meet his intense gaze, but you knew they would betray you. Besides, the way he was staring you down, it was like he could see right into your soul. Honestly, it was a little scary.

“No, no it’s not,” he shot back. “Listen, you can lie to that damn nerd, you can lie to shitty hair, but you can’t lie to me,” he said, taking just a step closer. “So just cut the shit and tell me what’s going on so we can fix it.” He started going off, his voice getting increasingly louder as he talked.

This onslaught of words was making your resolve crumble, and it wasn’t too long before you snapped. “It’s my aunt, okay?” you shouted, effectively silencing him. “She’s in the hospital, and she’s not doing great,” you admitted, your voice shaking just slightly as you talked, but you were going to force yourself to finish this. “It happened a week or so ago, and she’s there now. So I’m just trying to get home, because I’m by myself, so that I can go see her,” you finished, your eyes not once leaving his. “Alright. So can we go now?” you asked, not ready to move until he was.

Oh. He certainly hadn’t been expecting that, and it was evident on his face. It took him a moment, but he just nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning to walk.

It was dead silent between the two of you, your anger slowly melting to just being upset, and you ducked your head to focus on the concrete and the lines in the sidewalk.

“What time are you going to see her?” he asked, his voice quiet, all traces of his earlier ranting gone.

“What?”

“Your aunt,” he clarified, his tone a bit louder, but you could tell he was trying to be gentle. “What time do you think you’ll go and see her?”

“Oh,” you replied, realizing you hadn’t really thought about that. “I’ll have to check visiting hours, but I’d like to be there as early as possible. And I guess I’ll stay for a few hours, but then I have to come home and make sure everything’s in order,” you answered, trailing off towards the end of it as you rambled. Bakugo just nodded, and he went back to being quiet.

Finally, after what felt like the longest walk home of your life, your doorstep appeared in the distance. Instantly, your body felt relief and wanted to just go in and collapse on the couch. Or the nearest surface, really. Bakugo still remained pretty quiet, right until you got to the front door. He stood there for a second, and you watched, wondering when he was going to leave. He was usually gone by now, and honestly, you just wanted to go inside.

“What time will you be up tomorrow?” he finally spoke up, his eyes focused on a particular spot on your front step. Your brow furrowed, and at the moment of silence, he glanced up, wondering if you’d even heard him.

“I’ll be up at six,” you answered him slowly, the question seeming weird to you. He nodded, and he seemed satisfied. He waved, and then he went down the road. You watched him disappear out of eyesight, and then you unlocked your door, going in and literally flopping on the couch. You’d made it! You let out a sigh, just letting your body be absorbed into the couch, and you slowly fell asleep.

The next morning, your alarm went off, and you sat up, rubbing at your face and starting the waking up process. You got ready, going and brushing your teeth, changing into jeans and then a shirt and jacket, throwing on a hoodie. You didn’t need to look good, just presentable, and you wanted to be quick. You fixed your hair just enough so it didn’t look like you’d rolled out of bed, and then you went to put on your shoes. You were finally ready to go, grabbing your things and your keys, before going outside and waking down.

Waiting further down the sidewalk, there was a familiar head of blonde hair, and you squinted to make sure you were seeing this correctly. You walked up, noticing that this was in fact Katsuki Bakugo, waiting for you at the end of the sidewalk.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, coming to a stop by his side. He looked up when you did, scowling just a little bit.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m coming with you,” he said, his hands in his pockets. You were just confused, because this didn’t make a lot of sense to you.

“Why would you do that?” you asked. You knew he probably had better things to do, so why would he come with you? Just to sit in a room and wait. For hours.

He made a “tch” noise, kicking at the ground. “You don’t need to be by yourself,” he muttered, and you knew damn well he wasn’t going to repeat himself.

“Alright,” you replied slowly, taking a careful look at him. “We have to walk to the subway to ride to the hospital,” you told him. “We’ll probably be there for awhile,” you added.

“I know that, dumbass,” he responded, looking back at you instead of the ground. “If we stand here much longer, you won’t be there as early,” he added, already starting to walk. You were a little stunned, but you followed behind him, catching up after a moment. “Oh, and here,” he grumbled, handing you a brown paper bag. You grabbed it, going and peaking inside the bag. There was one of those mini bottles of water, and a few various snacks. “I figured you might forget to eat, and that’s not good,” he added, returning both of his hands to his pockets.

“You’re right, I did,” you laughed quietly. “Thank you,” you told him, already reaching for the snack that appealed to you most in the bag. He grumbled some sort of response, his face had a light dusting of pink on it, but that could’ve just been from the cold. As you guys walked to the station, you made some regular conversation, and Bakugo was surprisingly quiet. He wasn’t nearly as loud as usual, and he only called you a name once- and he almost apologized for it. It was strange. The ride to the hospital was relatively quiet, too, aside from the times Bakugo would growl when someone got a little too close. It made you laugh some, but the other people were certainly scared.

When you got off, the station was crowded, filled with the sounds of people hurrying to the places they needed to be, loudly talking on phones, people laughing, and some faint Christmas music coming from the speakers. As you stepped onto the platform, it felt like you were surrounded by people, and you started looking at the signs telling you different stairwells and things.

Bakugo stepped off next to you, his head up as he looked for the signs. “Where do we need to go?” he asked, raising his voice enough for you to hear him over the crowds.

“I think it’s... that one,” you said, gesturing to a bigger sign that was a little bit away from the two of you. You tried to move forward, but there was a lot of people, and you hesitated, just trying to see if you could walk through without getting trampled.

Bakugo looked over at you, shaking his head with a little huff. “Come on, dumbass, we don’t have all day,” he grunted, and he quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you behind him. Clearly, Bakugo didn’t care that there were other people, and he was sure that they’d move out of his way before he moved out of theirs. His hand was warm as it held yours, and the contact startled you, and you ended up tripping a little behind him. You regained your footing after a second, stepping close behind him as he pulled you towards the sign, guiding you out.

When you guys made it out of the station, you walked a little more, and you had to tell him which ways to turn. After a bit, he realized that he was still holding your hand, and he cleared his throat, letting go and quickly shoving his hand in his pocket. Your hand was not cold, but you gently put it in your pocket, playing it way more cool than Bakugo was. You could’ve sworn his face was more red than before, but you weren’t going to push it.

Eventually, the two of you made it to the hospital, and that’s when you got quiet. Honestly, you were nervous to go in here. You didn’t know what it would be like, if it would be like the other days when you got no new updates, or if something bad would happen, or if something good would happen. Or if it would just be that painful waiting, and the anticipation was creating knots in your stomach. Instead of dealing with that, you turned to Bakugo, taking a breath and giving him a little smile. “Thanks for walking with me today. I might be here for awhile, so you can go home,” you offered, giving him a small smile.

He stood there for a second, and then he shook his head. “I don’t have anything better to do. Besides, what’s going to happen if you can’t have a big bad body guard get you through the station?” he snickered, giving you one of those little smirks.

It was enough to get you to relax a little, and you sighed, rolling your eyes some. “Whatever you say, Boom Boy, just don’t get mad if we’re here for a few hours,” you warned, turning to go into the hospital.

“I am not Boom Boy!” he snapped, but you couldn’t see the little smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, I mean Lord Explosion Murder,” you teased, walking into the building. You just decided to not hear his reply.

You waited in the hospital for hours, the two of you sitting in the waiting room. Neither of you said much, and he could tell that you were deep in thought. You still had those lingering thoughts and questions, and you kept shifting in your seat every few minutes. You let out a sigh, turning so that you were facing Bakugo, rubbing the back of your neck some. “I don’t think anything’s going to happen today,” you admitted, feeling a little bit defeated.

Bakugo glanced over from whatever he’d been looking at, his eyes settling on yours. “Does that mean you’re ready to go? We can stay here for another hour if you want,” he said, and you could see he was actually being sincere.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just go,” you sighed, moving so that you could stand up. He stood up with you, just going to follow you out, walking back to the station.

After you’d made it a little bit away from the hospital, Bakugo cleared his throat, looking at you before staring back at the sidewalk. “Shitty hair told me that him and a few of those other extras are getting together to go to the park, probably to play in the snow or something,” he started. “You can go, if you want. Besides, it’s become boring getting to beat all those losers over and over,” he added, chuckling a little at the end, an arrogant smile coming to his face.

You sat there for a moment, processing the offer. Honestly, you were just surprised. Why was he being so nice to you? It wasn’t really like him. Sure, he’d let you copy his notes before on days you missed or answer a question or two if you didn’t get it the first time, but nothing like this. You shook your head, just hoping it would go away, and you looked over to Bakugo. “Sure, I’d love to go. Just hopefully you don’t cry when I pelt you with a snowball,” you snickered. His face dropped, and he instantly started yelling about how that wasn’t true as you laughed. “Alright alright, don’t blow a fuse,” you chuckled, your smile easing away after a moment. “But there is something I want to know,” you said, gauging his reaction. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He froze up for just a second, faltering for a brief moment, before he grunted and shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are you talking about, idiot? I’m always like this,” he grumbled, refusing to meet your eyes.

“No, no, because I bet if I told anyone else in class 1-A, they’d-“

“Shut up!” he interrupted, the ends of his ears going slightly red. You stared at him expectantly, and when he caught your eyes, he just sighed. “Listen, I just know- erm- well, you’re-“ he shook his head, gritting his teeth. Figured he might as well just get this out before he couldn’t say anything. “I just didn’t want you to be by yourself!” he blurted, his face flushing as he quickly looked to the concrete below. “I know your aunt means a lot to you because you talk about her all the time, and then hearing about it, I just... didn’t want you to be alone,” he finished, his voice trailing off to be barely a whisper at the end.

You were a bit in shock at the answer, your eyes widening as you took it in. Wow. You were trying to think of something to say, and your voice was quiet, too. “Thank you,” you whispered, not looking at him, either. “It really means a lot to me.”

Neither of you could tell, but you were both blushing as you looked at anywhere but each other. “Whatever, don’t mention it,” he muttered, grabbing his phone. “He says that they’re on their way to the park. Should I say we’re coming now, too?” he asked, risking just a quick glance over to you before staring back at his phone screen.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you answered, clearing your throat a little to make your voice go back to normal. “Can’t wait to get there and win at whatever we’re playing,” you added, mocking some of his arrogance from earlier.

“In your dreams,” he shot back, and he was grinning at his phone as he sent the text.

Going to the park that day was honestly a lot of fun, definitely more fun than you’d expected to have. You and Bakugo had to call your snowball fight a draw, otherwise someone was really about to get injured. You ended up helping turn Denki into a snowman, and you’d laughed as Kirishima used his quirk to sled down a hill at top speed. It had been an amazing day, filled with little moments you’d remember forever.

Bakugo really had meant what he said when he answered your question, because he made sure that you were almost never alone. Some days, he would walk with you to the hospital, and afterwards the two of you would go into the city and walk around, or go see lights somewhere, just doing fun activities. Other days, you would go to the hospital by yourself, but when you came home, Bakugo was always there waiting, most of the time with a few other friends, and you guys would do activities, typically outdoors. Let’s just say you had more than one snowball fight, and at one point, you had to go buy your own sled so you could race as well. You even went ice skating, and that was one of the most chaotic outings you’d ever been on, but it always made you smile. When he wouldn’t go with you, Bakugo would always wait until you had a moment by yourselves to ask if you’d gotten any updates, and he would wish you luck for the next trip. The one thing that never changed was that he was always the one to walk you home whenever it was time you to head back.

Tonight was no exception, even if it was Christmas Eve. You and Bakugo had been laughing, him teasing you a little bit about how your snow fortress had crumbled, and you telling him that it wasn’t your fault that you didn’t have a master’s degree in snow architecture. Your doorstep was soon approaching, and Bakugo walked with you to your front door, watching you grab your key and start to unlock the door.

“You know what tomorrow is, right?” he asked, leaning up against the wall and looking at his feet.

“No, no I don’t,” you deadpanned, but then you looked at him and gave him a smirk, and he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, dumbass,” he muttered, shaking his head. But he had a point, and he wasn’t going to let you distract him from it that easily. “It’s Christmas, which means that I won’t be able to hang out tomorrow,” he said, his voice a little softer.

Your heart sank a little as the realization hit. Honestly, you’d looked forward to all the days he’d come to hang out with you, because it was just extra fun. They always made you smile, and you had forgotten that he’d probably be with his family tomorrow.

“Oh. Well, you didn’t have to just tell me that, you could’ve just texted,” you muttered, going to open the door.

“(Y/N), you didn’t let me finish,” he said, looking up from his feet to see your face. You stopped, because wow, he actually used your name? Must be serious. “I can’t hang out tomorrow afternoon, but if you want... you can come have dinner with me. And my family,” he offered, quickly adding in the last bit. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you met his eyes, seeing how he seemed a little bit anxious. “Of course, that’s only if you want to, and you know the old hag would-“

“I would love to,” you interrupted, a smile quickly forming on your face. You saw he was caught off guard, and it made you smile just a little more. It took him a moment, but he realized you’d actually said yes, and then he could continue.

“O-okay, I can come by to pick you up at six, but who knows if the food will actually be ready by the time we get there,” he said, laughing a little at the end. “And... don’t wear anything too special, it’s just food,” he said, and you took a mental note of that.

“Alright. So you’ll be here at six? I’ll be ready by then,” you assured him.

He grumbled something, his face turning a little bit more pink, but he nodded. “Goodnight, (Y/N),” he said.

“Goodnight, Bakugo,” you replied, grinning as you walked in your house, and immediately started thinking about the next day.

The next morning, you woke up a little extra early, and the first thing you did was go to see your aunt. Today, you planned to stay here for a while, considering you didn’t have anything coming until six. While you waited, your mind was focused on the issue of what you were going to wear, and the more you thought about going, the more your heart began to race.

You had been spending a lot of time with Bakugo, a lot more than usual. It really wasn’t bad, and you had found yourself really enjoying hanging out with him. When he wanted to be, he was sweet. It was also very cute to see him get flustered, just now his face and ears would get all red...

You shook your head, because now certainly wasn’t the time to think about that. You just needed to figure out what you were actually going to wear. There was no need to dress like this was for the red carpet, but would jeans and a t-shirt be enough? Jeans and a nice shirt? Boots? No boots? Would a scarf be cute? Clothes are frustrating to pick out, and you wanted to make sure that your outfit was right.

You left the hospital hours later, and eventually the little thoughts in your mind slowly making a small ball of anxiety settle in your chest. You really just didn’t want to mess tonight up, because it seemed important. All those little what if’s floated around in your head, creating the worst scenarios and things as you walked into the door to your house. Now it was time to get serious about finding clothes.

It took awhile, and you could see it getting darker outside as you finally settled on what you were going to wear. It somehow was the perfect middle between comfortable and fancy, and you were satisfied with how it looked. You fixed your hair, adding any finishing touches you wanted, and you looked yourself over in the mirror. Perfect. When you went to check the clock, you realized that it was pretty close to time for Bakugo to come pick you up. Your heart raced at the thought, and you took a breath to still yourself. Why were you so worked up? It’s just food. With his family. And him. And it’s a really sweet gesture, and he’s-

You shook your head, clearing the thoughts, and then double checking your hair to see if you’d messed it up. No need to overthink things, just relax.

Exactly on time, you heard a knock on your door. It was quick and seemingly impatient, and you grinned a little. Of course that was him. You walked to the door, reaching for you coat and shrugging it on before you opened the door. Bakugo was standing there, and he was fidgeting with his fingers some, but he looked up at you, and for just a fleeting moment there was a quick smile on his face. But he realized what he was doing and he cleared his throat, his eyes quickly flicking over you. “It’s a good thing you’re ready. I thought you might be one of those people that take hours and you were going to be late,” he grumbled.

“Hello to you, too,” you laughed. “Me? Never.” You were electing to ignore the fact that it took forever to actually decide what to wear, because he didn’t need to know that.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, a hint of a smirk coming to his face. “You ready to go?”

You nodded, stepping outside and locking the door behind you after you’d gotten all your things.

“Thanks for inviting me, by the way,” you started, looking at your hands as you began to walk with him towards his house. “I hope your parents don’t mind that I’m sort of crashing,” you trailed off, feeling a little nervous at that. Granted, this was the first time you were really going to his house, different than just dropping off homework or notes when he’d missed things, and you didn’t want to make a bad impression but intruding on their holiday activities.

He tsked, rolling his eyes at your worries. “I already asked the hag, she said it’s fine. Then she said a lot of other stuff I don’t care to remember,” he added, scoffing at the end. You just laughed, shaking your head.

“I mean, I know, but you know I just don’t want them to feel weird because I’m intruding-“ you started rambling, muttering slightly to yourself.

Bakugo had enough, and his eyes flashed a bit brighter when he looked at you. “Shut up, will ya? Starting to sound like that damn nerd,” he shouted. “Don’t worry about it. I promise, they’re not upset you’re going to be here,” he reassured you, and for some reason, his cheeks flushed a bit pink. “Relax,” he muttered, shaking his head some and going down a road.

After that, the rest of the walk was nice. You took his advice, and you tried to calm your nerves. The conversation helped, and you’d tripped a few times from how hard you’d laughed, Bakugo nearly having to catch you, but you were fine. The smile on your face was easy and bright, and Bakugo couldn’t help but stare sometimes. When he would catch himself, he’d quickly glare at anything but you, changing the subject to something else to talk about.

Soon enough, the two of you were in front of Bakugo’s door, and he stopped before he opened it. “Um, so this is my house,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck some.

“Who needs to relax now?” you joked, nudging him a little. He grumbled something at you, and you rolled your eyes. “Are you planning on letting me in? It’s a little cold out here,” you chuckled.

He grumbled something you couldn’t hear, and went to open the door. Instantly, you felt the warm air coming from inside, and you quickly went in, standing in the doorway. You could smell the food, and it put a little smile on your face. It just smelled like Christmas in here, or whatever that was supposed to mean, but it made sense to you in that moment.

You realized Bakugo was just staring at you standing there, and you laughed. You went and took off your coat, going and hanging it on one of the hooks. Bakugo took a second and looked you over, and his face turned red yet again, damn it. He looked away, going and walking in a direction, just expecting you to follow him, which you did.

He was giving a small tour, eventually leading you to the back towards the kitchen and the dining room. When you got there, his mom was cooking in the kitchen, and his dad was seated at the table. They both looked up when they heard the two of you talking, and his mom smiled over at you.

“You must be (Y/N)!” she exclaimed, going over to see you. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! Katsuki talks about you-“

“Shut up!” he interrupted, his face just the slightest bit pink. His mom laughed, ruffling his hair a bit and he grimaced.

“Aw, is Katsuki embarrassed?” she cooed, laughing a little. “Anyway, please, call me Mitsuki,” she chuckled, turning back to you.

It was a little strange for you to see Bakugo like this, and it made you smile. You tried not to laugh too much, but you shot him a look letting him know that you weren’t going to let this go any time soon. But you looked back to Mitsuki, grinning. “Nice to meet you, Mitsuki,” you returned, and she chuckled.

“The food will be ready in just a few minutes, so you can go sit down at the table, or Katsuki can show you around some more,” she suggested, turning back to finish up what she was cooking at the moment.

You turned to Bakugo, smirking just a little. “Does that mean I get to see your room?” you asked, your voice a sing-song tone, and you watched him go red again. This man couldn’t catch a break.

“Nope, not doing that,” he answered, steering you in the direction of the table, where his dad was. You smiled in greeting, offering him a small wave.

“So you’re (Y/N),” he mused, laughing after and giving you a warm smile. “You can call me Masaru, and it’s nice to meet you,” he introduced himself, and you nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you replied, and then you went to take your seat. You sat next to Bakugo, messing with your hands in your lap some. “I want to thank you guys for having me. It... means a lot, and sorry that I’m sort of crashing,” you said, chuckling nervously.

Mitsuki could be heard from the kitchen, and you turned to see her. “That’s alright, we’re glad to have you! Katsuki doesn’t really invite a lot of friends over,” she said, emphasizing the word friends just a touch.

“You really aren’t crashing anything at all,” Masaru added, giving you a gentle smile.

You let out a small breath of relief, a smile of your own stretching across your face. It was good to know that they didn’t seem to hate you and that they seemed to genuinely want you here, and it helped you relax just a touch.

“Told ya,” Bakugo muttered under his breath, and you laughed softly. So maybe he was right.

Mitsuki then came out of the kitchen, bringing out the things she had made for dinner. It smelled really good, and it made a small smile come across your face. Food is a good way to make anyone happy, really. She sat down and everyone started eating, and it was just a little awkward at first. You didn’t really know what to say, and there were a lot of questions about school and the different things that were coming up, tests and whatever. After a little while, you eased into the conversation, the awkwardness going away as you warmed up to the conversation.

You spent hours there, longer than you’d really imagined you would. You’d laughed a lot, and that smile had started to ache on your face. Time had slipped by, and when you happened to glance outside, you realized it was way darker than when you’d first gotten there. Mitsuki seemed to notice, too, because she turned to look at the two of you. “It’s getting pretty late. Katsuki, why don’t you take your friend home?” she suggested. Bakugo grumbled some sort of response, and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

“You’re already home, I’ve got no problem walking myself back,” you suggested, trying not to be more tough me that it already felt like you were.

His face suddenly turned indignant, glaring at you. “What? No! I’ll walk you home,” he stated. He took a second, glancing off to the side before he added, “I always do.” It was your turn to blush slightly, and you heard Masaru chuckle from beside you.

“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll be heading home then,” you determined, going to stand up from the table. “Thank you for having me over tonight. It’s been a lot of fun, and it really means a lot to me,” you said, beginning to walk back to the door. Bakugo was following behind you, and it looked like he was having a quick conversation with his mom, surprisingly none of it was yelling.

“It was a pleasure having you for dinner, and I hope that we can see more of you eventually,” Masaru said, giving you a soft smile.

“Yes, please! We’ll have to have you back for dinner some other time,” Mitsuki chimed in. You nodded in agreement, laughing a little. You grabbed your coat from the hook, shrugging it back on, and Bakugo did the same. You waved goodbye to his family, and then you were back outside. It was definitely colder out here than inside, and you pulled your coat tighter around you. You started walking back to your house, and a smile grew on your face.

“That was one of the best dinners I’ve had in forever,” you said, grinning over at him. “Seriously, thank you for inviting me over. Whatever I had planned, it wouldn’t have been as good as this was.”

He was trying his best to be his grumpy self, but when you smiled at him like that, it was just damn near impossible. He gave you just a brief, small smile of his own, quickly averting his gaze after. “Like I said before, it just wasn’t fair that you should have to be by yourself. But I’m glad you liked it,” he replied, his voice staying at an actual conversational tone. It was strange, but nice.

The walk back to your house was an enjoyable, and you both ended up laughing, probably loud enough to make the people you walked past annoyed, but neither of you minded. It was just the two of you hanging out together, just like it seemed to always be.

Soon enough, the both of you had arrived at your house, and he’d actually walked with you to your door tonight. He’d just said something to make you laugh, and it made it a little harder to get the key in the door lock. You had just turned to tell him goodnight, but he said something before you could.

“So, I was out the other day, and I just saw something, and I thought you might like it,” he mumbled, reaching in his pocket. “Or you might not, I don’t really know. Do what you want with it,” he grumbled after. He pulled out a thin, square box, one that fit in his hand, and he handed it to you. “Merry Christmas.”

You took the box from him, going to pull the lid off. Inside, there was a bracelet. It was made of beads that were your favorite color. Maybe it was a coincidence, but a small part of you thought that maybe he’d remembered when you mentioned it. On the bracelet, there were two small charms. One of them was in the shape of a bomb, with a little spark at the end of the fuse. The other was a little explosion, the orange and red looking like a small firework.

Your heart melted a little, and you gently took it out of the box, sliding it on your wrist. “Aw, Bakugo! I love it,” you grinned, looking at the little charms one more time before you looked back to him. Clearly, it meant something to him, as you could see the faint red dusting of a blush across his face. You laughed softly, hiding your smile as best you could. “Oh! But I didn’t get you anything,” you mumbled, the gears turning in your brain as you thought about it.

“You didn’t have to it was just something I saw-“

But before he could really finish his sentence, you’d walked over, closing the bit of space between you. You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, hovering there for just a moment afterwards.

“Guess you’ll have to try for the real thing on New Year’s, boom boy,” you whispered, smiling a little before you walked back. “Anyway, goodnight, Katsuki,” you said, putting some emphasis on his name. You unlocked your door, stepping inside, and you quickly turned back to him. “See you tomorrow?”

Bakugo was still standing there, looking like he’d malfunctioned. His face was terribly red, his eyes just wide as he stared at the spot you used to be. It took him a moment to even realize you’d asked him a question, and his head looked in your direction. “Y-yeah,” he answered.

You laughed, giving him just one more smile before you shut your door. Honestly, you couldn’t believe you’d just done that, but you couldn’t say that you really regretted it. Actually, you were looking forward to another time you could have an excuse to do it again.

It was a good minute or two before Bakugo even moved from your doorstep, his hand gently pressing the place you’d left a kiss. His mind kept replaying the little scene for him, just remembering every little detail about it. Hell, he didn’t even seem to mind you called him boom boy. Even the way you’d said his actual name, it wasn’t bad. He’d eventually left your doorstep, starting to walk home to his house. Guess he would have to see at New Year’s if he could get the real deal, and the thought brought a smile to his face.

———————————————————————

Bonus: Kaminari, Sero, Denki, and Mina were camped out in the bushes near your place. Of course, they’d started to put two and two together. By they, I mean Kirishima and Sero. They’d noticed a few things, and they had told Sero and Kaminari, and now here they were.

“They haven’t shown up in awhile. Maybe we were wrong?” Mina said, looking in either direction, trying to find you and Bakugo.

“No, we weren’t wrong,” Kirishima reassured her. “I texted Bakugo about an hour ago about being better than him, and he didn’t even respond. I sent (Y/N) something, and she usually answers. He’s definitely with her now,” he explained. Just as he said that, the two of you had rounded the corner.

“That’s them! Shhh,” Sero whispered, and the four of them crouched down further into the bushes, their eyes on the both of you.

Not that any of them could really hear what you were saying, but they could see perfectly well what was happening.

“So that’s what he was asking me about,” Sero murmured, seeing the box be pulled from his pocket.

When you kissed Bakugo’s cheek, the bushes nearly erupted with noise, but they were forcing themselves to be quiet. Kirishima had nudged Sero, nearly making him fall over, and Mina and Denki had been excitedly slapping each other.

“This ship has sailed!” Denki cheered quietly, making Mina laugh but causing Kirishima to gently shush him.

After you’d closed the door, the four of them had started talking, exchanging money about certain bets they’d had, and making a few more bets and speculations about what would happen.

As Bakugo tried to walk by, he’d heard some strange sounds coming from the bushes. Hands already positioned at the ready, making small little explosions, he crept over to the bushes and looked over. The little group froze when they saw Bakugo’s face appear over the edge. There was a small moment of silence in which no one moved or said a word.

“What are you doing here?” Bakugo asked, his voice gruff and getting a little bit louder as he went along.

“Hey, Bakubro! We were just-“

“RUN!” Denki screamed, scrambling and sprinting away from Bakugo as he could. The others were quick to follow, rubbing as fast as possible from the boy growing increasingly louder as the explosions got bigger.

“You damn extras!” he roared, hopping over the bushes and chasing after them, determined that he would catch up to them and make sure they would forget whatever they did or didn’t see.

#katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #bakugo fic #bakugo fanfic #bakugo fanfiction #bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fic #katsuki bakugo fanfic #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #my hero academia #mha #my hero academia fanfiction #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction

117 notes · View notes

aewriting · 4 years

Text

This story idea for 9-1-1 Lone Star hit me last night, and made me realize that I haven't written anything from Carlos's perspective yet. I feel like there's a lot we still don't know about Carlos, but here's my attempt to fill in a few blanks.

Warning for sexual references.

Here it is on AO3, if you prefer.

***

It’s been... a while, since Carlos felt this way. Longer than he really cares to think about. Giddy, almost. Distracted. He’d been surprised when T.K. had texted him about going to a club, taking a friend out with them. “Friend,” huh? Playing third wheel to T.K. and some new guy was not his idea of a fun time. In fact, it made him question T.K.’s motives, even more than he had been already. Because T.K. had been quite the cypher. Here’s what he knew. Real name was Tyler Kennedy. Hot as fuck. Good with his mouth. Good with his whole damn body, actually. And Carlos’s, fuck. Liked it a little rough... maybe even a lot rough, depending. Firefighter. Captain’s son. Moved here from New York City about three months ago. Has been up really high, forty-plus stories on the, the Chrysler building, was it? Going, going through some shit. Obviously. He instigated that fist fight at that shady bar, so some adrenaline-seeking behavior, maybe? Apparently had a bad break up in New York, relapsed, is in recovery now (prefers mineral water), has some mood stuff going on... Is not looking for anything serious right now. So, yeah, he didn’t have the best reaction to the whole text about the club. Until T.K. clarified. Paul just got shot down. Think he needs some fun. Carlos had frowned. Paul. Paul Strickland? He was another firefighter with the 126. Where you thinking? Thought maybe you could guide us. Then, I want to dance. Carlos exhaled. Yeah, he wanted T.K. to dance, too. Preferably with him. There’s Rain on 4th. Sounds good. We get off at 10. Carlos had looked at the phone, debated what he was about to type, wondered if it was too transparent. Paul ok with going to a gay club? Yeah, had come T.K.’s quick reply. He’s straight but he’ll be cool with it. And Carlos had finally relaxed, at that. I’ll drive, he’d typed out, allowing himself a small smile. He’d showered carefully, brushed and flossed his teeth, styled his hair. Put on a little cologne. Spent too much time debating what to wear, because... because he wanted to impress T.K., dammit, but didn’t want it to be obvious. He’d finally settled on a t-shirt and jeans - casual but still nice. Flattering. And, yeah, he’d even gone to one of those drive-through car washes. And when T.K. bounded down the steps of the 126, flashing him a conspiratorial smile and leaning easily against his car, hip to hip with Carlos, he knew that all his preparations had been worth it.

It had felt good, walking into the club next to T.K. - even better when T.K. reached for him, brought him in close. Carlos doesn’t think he’s a particularly possessive guy, not one to show off, either, but there was something about being in that club with T.K., seeing people’s eyes on him, on them, together... it gave him a boost, a direct shot to his ego, having this gorgeous guy on his arm, dancing up against him for anyone to see. Fuck, he’s got it bad. Which is probably why he’s still thinking about it days later. At work. When he should be finishing up a report. He sighs deeply and redirects his attention to his computer. “Hola, Carlos,” comes a familiar, and rather unwelcome voice. “Hello, Roger,” Carlos says, purposefully. Roger was one of only a handful of out cops in the department, and of that small group, he was Carlos’s least favorite. By far. He’d always found him to be overly familiar. Unprofessional. Vain as hell. He’d been relentless when he’d found out Carlos was gay, making pointed comments about how much he wanted to get to know Carlos better, how helpful it would be to let off some steam together... Roger was attractive, and Carlos would be lying if he said he’d never thought about it, but after one particularly lewd comment, Carlos had made it very clear that their... preferences were simply incompatible. While that had at least stopped Roger from directly propositioning him, it didn’t stop the conversation entirely, just shifted it. When Roger approached him now, it was often to brag - about his prowess, his partners. The company dancer with Ballet Austin, the hot barista, the musician... Carlos tried to shut it down, when he could, but with a guy like Roger it was hard sometimes. “How was your weekend?” Roger asks. “Fine,” Carlos says, nonchalant. “Picked up a shift late Friday.” “And after that? You go out?” Roger smiles. “Do anyone fun?” Carlos looks at him sharply, and he’s still grinning. It clearly wasn’t a slip. Roger just tilts his head to the side. “I saw you. At Rain.” Shit. “Yeah?” Carlos says, casually. “Yeah. Waved to you.” “I must have missed you.” Roger shrugs. “Yeah, well, I was up on the second level, and you looked a little, ah, preoccupied.” He gives Carlos a lascivious grin, pulls up a chair, and sits down. Carlos rolls his eyes. “I’m on the clock, here,” he says. “Um, not anymore, Reyes. It’s noon. Lunch break.” Damn him. He must have planned the timing of this. Carlos rubs a hand tiredly over his face. “Eat in the break room with me?” And unfortunately, he can’t think up a good excuse not to, at the moment. “Fine,” Carlos says, tightly. He takes his time getting his lunch out of the shared fridge and heating it up - anything to delay the inevitable conversation with Roger. He knows that look, on Roger, that tone, and he suspects that he hasn’t heard the end of his night out. As expected, Carlos barely sits down before Roger’s talking again. “Quite the little piece of ass you were with. Hope you got some of that. Way he was dancing, kid’s a fucking tease if you didn’t.” He didn’t. Get some. Not in the way Roger means, not that night. What he had gotten, though, was a smile, a genuine one when they’d dropped Paul off at his house, loose and laughing. A firm squeeze of his hand when they’d finally said goodbye at the end of the night. A soft but earnest, “I had a really good time tonight.” Carlos exhales, looks at Roger. “The guys I was out with are colleagues, actually. From the 126. New in town.” He sees the recognition, then, on Roger’s face. The realization. “Oh shit, wait, for real? Was that the new Captain’s son? T.J.? T.R.?” “T.K.,” Carlos says tightly. “That’s it, yeah.” Roger laughs a little. “They came down from New York City, right?” “Yeah,” Carlos replies. Roger grins, all teeth. “Well, shit. Kid knows what he’s doing then, huh?” Carlos frowns. “He and his father have been good additions to the team. Definitely experienced.” Roger barks out a laugh. “I wasn’t talking about that kind of experience.” He shakes his head. “I swear, Carlos, you could be cleaning the fuck up if you would just use a goddamn app. You know how many guys the whole cop thing works for?” He smiles again. “I’ve never fucked a firefighter, though. You think he’s into cops? Or better yet,” Roger leans in closer, winks, “you think he likes it when they’re into him?” And that’s about enough. “Think you’d have to ask him that,” Carlos says, voice cold. He makes a show of snapping his lunch case shut, getting up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a report to finish.” He’s up and leaving before Roger can say anything else. Moves quickly back to his desk and sits down heavily. Damn. Roger’s comments have left him off-balance, out of sorts. Because he knows, knows he has no claims over T.K. - T.K.’s made that very clear. But the idea of T.K. with someone like Roger... He shakes his head. Nope. Don’t think about it. T.K.’s a grown man who can do whatever the hell he wants. And Carlos is a grown man, too, with a very real report that needs completed before end of shift today. But he can’t stop thinking about it. He knows, more than he wants to, about what Roger’s into… and knows it’s not a bad fit, necessarily, for T.K. And the fact that T.K.’s on Roger’s radar now, well... Carlos can’t help but picture them together - T.K. on his knees for Roger, Roger’s hands on T.K.’s skin, Roger using his body to pull all those wrecked sounds out of him... Shit. This has to stop. He’s not, not usually like this. What the hell is it about T.K. that’s gotten to him like this? He decides to take a lap, goes to the water cooler to refill his bottle. By the time he gets back to his desk, he’s feeling clearer - or at least a little more determined not to think about things he can’t control.

*** It’s almost a week later, and a delegation of first responders is all gathered at city hall for a training about an impending upgrade to the 911 network. Michelle’s there, as are representatives from the 126 - T.K. and Marjan, specifically. Carlos gives a little nod T.K.’s direction, is relieved when T.K. returns the favor. They break for lunch - a catered deal with sandwich fixings, chips, cookies. Carlos is about to rip open a little bag of Lay’s when T.K. approaches him. “Hey.” “Hey,” Carlos replies, looking T.K. over a bit. He looks nervous, almost. “It’s nice out. Wanna sit outside?” Carlos glances to his left, at Michelle, who is just about to start in on her turkey sandwich. She smiles. “It’s pretty bright out, and I don’t have my sunscreen on.” Carlos doesn’t miss her slight smirk, her raised eyebrow. “Why don’t you two go ahead without me?” Carlos gives her a little look, feels the way she kicks him under the table. “Okay. See you in a bit, then.” He grabs his lunch, follows T.K. out to a little picnic table. After some standard pleasantries and a brief discussion about a recent house fire they both worked, T.K. puts his sandwich down. Bites his lip. “You, um, you know a guy named Roger? Roger Sizemore? He’s a cop.” And now Carlos is setting his sandwich down too, responding carefully. “Yeah, I know him. Why?” “Just... I dunno, he was working a call with us - that accident out by the airport yesterday, the bad one.” Carlos nods. “You...” T.K. pauses. “You guys friends, or anything?” He glances down. “Said he knew you, and I wasn’t sure how, if it was just, like, work stuff, or...” He trails off. “Yeah,” Carlos replies quickly. “It’s just work. We’re not, not close or anything.” T.K. seems to relax a bit, at that. “Okay, yeah, I didn’t think so but figured I’d ask.” He looks up at Carlos with those big eyes. “What do you think of him?” He’s an ass, Carlos wants to say. Doesn’t. “He... he can be a bit much, sometimes.” And T.K. blows out a breath, chuckles a little. “Fuck, yeah, glad it wasn’t just me, then.” He shakes his head. “Dude fucking hit on me. Like, hardcore. Right in the middle of a call.” His eyes narrow a bit. “Said... said he heard I liked guys in uniform.” Carlos closes his eyes, briefly. Fucking Roger. “I... god, I’m sorry, T.K. he saw us together out at Rain the other night, with Paul. Asked me about you. Told him that if he was interested, he’d have to ask you, no one else.” T.K. nods, a little tight. “Yeah, well, he asked, alright. Honestly, he’s gonna get himself in trouble with HR if he keeps doing shit like that on the job.” “Don’t I know it,” Carlos mutters. “And I’ve told him that. He used to pull the same thing with me until...” “Until what?” “’Until I turned him down.” T.K. leans back a little in his seat. Looks pleased. “Well, that makes two of us.” Carlos quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah?” “Oh yeah,” T.K. said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “I just told him the truth, though.” “And what’s that?” T.K.’s smile grows. “I just... kindly let him know that I do like a man in uniform. One very specific man.” Carlos’s eyes go almost comically wide. T.K. shrugs. “What can I say, Officer, this whole thing,” he gestures to Carlos’s uniform, “definitely works for me.” He ducks his head, then, looks almost a little shy. “And I know I said I wasn’t looking for anything serious, and then you said you weren’t trying to be my boyfriend, but... truth is I like you and, and I have fun with you, and I hope you don’t mind me saying so.” If they weren’t in the middle of a work function, Carlos would have kissed him right then. Settles for grabbing his hand under the table, squeezing. “Don’t think I’ve ever minded anything less.”

#my fic #911 lone star #tarlos #tk strand #carlos reyes

209 notes · View notes

bellamybellamyblake · 4 years

Text

STAINED RED

(bellamy blake x reader)

Warnings: angsty as hell, canon death, lowkey panic attack, emotional breakdown, sadness, lots of mentions of blood, idek what to call the ending

Pairing: Bellamy x Collins!Reader

Word Count: 2k ~roughly~

A/N: I asked myself if I should make the first Bellamy one-shot that I post angsty. Then I remembered that I don’t know how to write happy stuff so in honor of Season 7 starting in one hour - even though I can’t watch it - here’s some sad shit.

\|/|\|/

Finn giving himself up to the grounders was the dumbest and smartest thing you had ever witnessed. Stupid; now you and Clarke have to deal with the aftermath and the fact that the commander's soldiers were stringing your brother up like an animal. And wise because he knew there was nothing anybody could do otherwise to sanctify an alliance with Lexa. As you and the aforementioned blonde watched Finn get chained to a pole, you connected eyes, and agreed wordlessly that you would do anything you could to make his death painless and short.

The two of you broke away from your lineup of people and headed to go into Lexa's barricade, Bellamy followed when he noticed and the man asked what the hell you were doing. Clarke quickly explained - and lied - that they were going to just talk to the commander as a last resort when Raven stopped you and grabbed your hand, catching all the other two's attention.

Eyes dancing in the moonlight, you eyed Raven as she pulled out a small and makeshift metal dagger and placed it softy in your hand, sliding it up your sleeve. "If she won't let him go," The tan skinned girl started ominously and determined. "Kill her."

You knew that if either of you even attempted to hurt Lexa, you and Clarke would probably be dead in, at the most, minutes. Unless they decided to make it slow - which was probably what they would do.

It's not that you didn't care whether or not if Finn dies, you did. He was your twin brother, you cared with everything you had. When he told you that he decided to turn himself in you slapped him upside the head and told him he was crazy. When you watched him get dragged away from you, you wanted to sob, especially seeing Raven and Clarke's reactions. And now, seeing him like that - terrified, wanting to live, regretting his choice, - you almost talked yourself out of it going along with your plan.

But you and him both understood that if your people don't align with the grounders, that they would all be dead by morning.

You and Clarke over me.

Instead of telling Raven, 'no,' like you should've, you shook your head up and down in agreement, giving the girl a sense of false hope that she didn't deserve the burden of having it dragged through the mud.

Before anything else could happen, Bellamy pulled you aside, delaying your brother's death by only moments. "What else is there to say, Y/N?"

"I don't know. Neither does Clarke but we'll figure it out."

There was no way you were going to tell him what you and the blonde were up to, you knew he would tell you not to let his death be on your conscience. You could practically hear the words coming out of his mouth and maybe you or Clarke will be the one to end it, but it was his choices that got him strung up in the first place. Since their first battle with the grounders at the dropship just a few weeks ago, your brother had never been the same. Then he found out the girl he was in love with went missing and you didn't even recognize him anymore.

He was beginning to scare you.

Or that was all a bunch of bullshit that you were telling to make yourself feel better and add some extra insentive to actually go through with it, you didn’t actually know for sure.

At your words, Bellamy hugged you quickly with some assurance that he'll still be there no matter what happened. It's like he was reading your mind, which sometimes you believed he could actually do. Nodding, you pulled back, sticking to silence as the best answer and he opened the gate or you and Clarke to pass.

Both of you made your way through the path of incredibly intimidating grounder soldiers and went to the entrance of the commander's tent. There stood Indra, a woman that you actually kind of admired - her loyalty to Lexa was something you had never witnessed in anyone that wasn't related.

"Let us through," Clarke spoke, you standing in front of her and stepping into the warrior's spear, daring her to move it.

“Let them pass.”

At the commander's order, Indra reluctantly - but instantly - removed the spear from your abdomen and you let out a breath of relief. As you and Clarke approached Lexa, they made quick eye contact, knowing what they needed to do, deciding that the blonde would do most of the talking.

“You plead for nothing,” Lexa said, her bravado never failing her. “You cannot stop this.”

"No, only you can. Show our people how powerful you are, show them you can be merciful. Show them you're not a savage," Clarke tried, a last ditch effort to save her lover's life - something you and her didn't exactly agree on but not something to hold against her.

“We are what we are.”

Clarke started begging the woman, trying to get her to see reason or even switch her out for Finn, trade her life for his. And as Lexa predictably denied, and practically put his upcoming death on her head, you jumped in not allowing this conversation to get any worse.

If that’s even possible.

With a stone cold face and no emotion in your voice, you spoke. "Can we at least say goodbye?" The commander just nodded at you as an answer.

You let Clarke go first, something in her eyes was pleading you to not make her be the one to do it and you shook your head with a yes, waiting to the side patiently as she held and cried for your brother. You gave them the privacy of not listening in, though it was painfully hard not to. Only when you saw her kiss him and stumble away, her knees giving out as sobs took over her body, did you advance towards your flesh and blood.

Stepping up to Finn, a grave expression written on your features, you immediately pulled him in for a hug, finally realizing the gravity of this situation. You two didn't even need to exchange words to know how the other felt or what they wanted to say.

All your older twin brother could even mutter was, "I'll be okay, Don't worry." He could almost tell what she was going to do but it was confirmed when he glanced to her hand and saw a shiny metal knife, just barely making contact with his shirt. You let out a shaky breath and hesitated.

Choking out an, "I love you," you let only a few tears fall from your eyes to your cheek, and squeezed your brother in an even tighter embrace. "I'm sorry." That's all you could say, that'll you knew to say that could even remotely make him feel any safer.

You felt him nod, and you guessed that was his acceptance and signal, telling you he was ready for you to follow through with your plan. You felt the knife break through his skin as you pushed it deeper into his heart, killing him instantly. You almost expected him to say something while you still held his, now limp, body in your hands, already regretting accepting the responsibility for this.

But instead of letting any more salt flow from your tear ducts, you took a deep breath, gathered your bearings and stepped away from Finn, haunted.

\|/|\|/

You couldn't stop staring at the blood. His blood stained on your shirt and hands. You sat away from the commander and Clarke who negotiated an alliance, not having spoken since you plunged a dagger in your own twin's heart. You didn't hear anyone come in, you didn't hear Abby and Kane arguing, nor did you hear Clarke agreeing to all the terms Lexa set. You didn't even hear them leave.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Your brother was dead and you’re the only one to blame.

When it finally occurred to you that you can wash the physical blood off but it'll always be her fault, your hands started shaking, your chest tightened and the ringing in your ears became deafening. Maybe if you had just killed Lexa like Raven suggested, they would've gotten him out. You should've done something, anything else, it didn't matter what.

Then you remembered when Kane tried to say something of comfort to you. Clearly, you didn't respond, but you did recall him putting a small wet rag next to you so you could wipe the blood away. Sure enough, when you looked to your left, finally breaking out of your trance - only to start panicking even more - you grabbed the piece of cloth and started viciously scrubbing your hands.

You didn't care that your skin was turning red and getting chapped underneath the crimson liquid, probably to crack and create more of your own. You didn't care that the tent had become empty aside from you. All you could focus on was the blood and the fact that the air seemed to be pulled out of it like an airlock on the Ark and sobs overtook your body as you tried to scratch the red off.

It was then that you felt someone take hold of your hands, making you quickly glance up to see Bellamy's mouth moving but you couldn't hear any words come out. The room was becoming smaller and smaller and you tried to rip your hands away to keep scratching the disappearing liquid off. Everything will be fine once it’s gone. It wasn't until right now that you realized you were speaking, words tumbling from your lips without your control, over and over again.

“I have to get it off. I have to get it off."

Suddenly, sound started filtering into your ears as Bellamy forced you to connect eyes by putting his hands on your cheeks and pulling your face up. "It's gone! You got it off, alright?" You only responded with the shake of your head, a frantic expression glued on and you still couldn't inhale or exhale correctly, breaking the eye contact. "Look at me, Y/N/N, breathe. It's okay."

Tears were uncontrollably falling down your face and you couldn't catch your breath. "I-I can't-I-I killed him -I-"

"Don't talk, just breathe. It'll be okay."

If you weren’t completely trapped in your own head, you would've been able to focus on the caring tone the man you loved used. You might've even conceded right then and there, but you were so wrapped up in remembering the knife piercing through your brother's heart at your own hand.

“I-I'm a monster," You stuttered out, bringing your hands to your head, trying to push your own head in. "God, it hurts-"

“They would've tortured him, you know that." You heard Bellamy say, his own voice a little louder than before but it was breaking too, though you still couldn't bring yourself to believe him. You could tell he meant the words he was saying but they just sounded like lies to you. The man could tell that that no more words were going help you calm down and as he stared into your absolutely devastated eyes that weren't returning his gaze and his heart broke at the sight. He just decided to pull you in for a tight embrace, your face was immediately buried into his chest, your tears soaked his shirt and he wrapped his arms around you. "You saved him from so much pain. You're not a monster, I promise."

Why does he keep lying to me?

His warmth was both appreciated and unwanted, you didn't deserve this. You're a cold blooded killer, you don't deserve comfort. You didn't have the physical nor mental strength to push him off and selfishly let yourself be held and loved even though you deprived Finn of ever feeling that again. The thoughts running through your head make your cries pick up once more, and you just needed the debilitating pain to be gone.

Your voice was begging, pleading, broken. “I can’t take it! M-Make it stop, Bell, please.”

\|/|\|/

95 notes · View notes

neko-shinigxmi · 3 years

Text

I plan to return to my favored coping method when I need “I’m not me” time- roleplaying- but before I did that.... I wanted to talk about what happened. Why I’ve been so depressed. Why I’ve been quiet. Because for the first and last time....... I don’t have to worry about what my stepdad thinks of me.

TW: transphobia, misgendering, mentions of a lot of -isms (sexism, racism; stepdad is an ASSHOLE), mentions of suicide and depression

TL;DR: I finally told Marshal- my stepdad- about being nonbinary. Not only did he react the way I knew he would, but my mom largely defended him before all of this and even said my pronouns were “confusing” to her. I had been hoping to have support from her, so this broke my heart. I officially don’t live with them anymore, but I struggle to find a single place to be in, due to my boyfriend’s dad being uncomfortable with me being home without Cam (my bf).

....Alright, let’s get into a bit of a doozy of a story...

It started with another fucking day of Marshal being on his bullshit. The day previous (13th), he made a comment about how “and that’s why women shouldn’t be cops,” because, while he and mom were watching a true crime show, a woman police officer brought up an acronym. Mom guessed it, was wrong, and Marshal brought that out there.

Yikes.

The day of, he was watching a kid’s movie with his daughters (the younger three; the movie was Hotel Transylvania) and he wanted to know if there was a derogatory term for Irish people. He was going with “potato eaters”, but wasn’t sure if that was right, or if there was anything worse he could be saying. (And he wanted to know so he could say it.) He tried to ask mom, citing a Jewish slur, but she said she didn’t know so he could shrug and go back to “potato eaters.”

After they left to go to a birthday party, I overheard a video on his phone mention “...the hypocrisy of the left...” and decided maybe it was time I had enough.

....Except she defended him when I brought it up. “Oh, he’s half-Irish, so....” “We can’t change what he believes in. He was raised like that and the construction site reinforces his views. Even Google shows him more and more of that kind of thing.”

I got understandably upset that my mom was defending him and didn’t understand why I’d be feeling unsafe around someone like that. I left to go back on the computer and talk to friends. Buuuut because I was in tears at that point, mom felt like it was time to pursue the issue.....by standing right next to me. The monitor was HUGE on the family computer. (My laptop wasn’t at the house due to it crashing the internet a lot.) So I felt even MORE cornered.

In came a talk about MY GENDER turning into politics. How Republicans and Democrats don’t talk anymore, how the parties think of each other like family, and it just sucks, to her. I bring it back to the ACTUAL talking point..... Only to get the reaction I mentioned in the TL;DR: she thinks that singular “they” is weird and not viable for pronoun usage. No matter what I say or try to.

My sobbing draws out Marshal from upstairs, who asks what’s going on. I decide to power through and talk about what’s been delayed for months, if not almost a full year... I’m nonbinary and want he/they pronouns.

See, though... His mom had called him when I attempted “social suicide” on Facebook, coming out originally. Despite having explained myself and my gender/sexualities, miss grandma decided to tell this to Marshal as, “I think there’s something wrong with Rachel.”

.....Which was then followed up with what I knew was coming: “I think there’s something wrong with you. I think you hate your body. You’re always going to be a beautiful girl to me.”

Now, maybe it wasn’t a wise thing to scream. (Did feel good, though. Emotional turmoil calls for a good scream, even if I still wonder if I frightened our neighbors.) It was a less wise thing to hit myself... Though I also thought Marshal had left the room. He had not; instead hovering at the bottom of the stairs or on the stairs themselves, hovering over us.

.....It’s an emotional situation, I do lash out in screams, and I’m not proud of it. But I do want to note that it’s hard to be autistic and talk about things like this when NOBODY ELSE is the mediator. (I talk about my dad a lot when it comes to this part. He took me being polyam very well, as though he didn’t understand it, he made sure to deescalate my panic and explain it more in-depth, so he could get a better idea of what it is I’m doing. Why it’s healthy, why it makes me happy... Stuff like that. Ending it with, “If it makes you happy, awesome.”)

Mom? She....wasn’t doing much, at that point. Sitting in a chair and sobbing. Misgendering me- literally- behind my back. “She thinks you’re not accepting her.” (Because he isn’t? Duh?)

Long story short of Marshal also trying to needle mom into saying something against him, as the only religious person in the room has decided he feels VERY attacked and wants to hear his wife say some shit, too..... Cam shows up to pick me up. I stumble out of the house in slip on shoes and a pair of ancient PE shorts.

....Went back later to pick up some stuff w/ him and a friend of ours in silence. Mom was still crying. She’d try to eventually use that against me to paint herself the victim and gaslight me into making ME feel awful for....... [checks notes] Wanting my gender to be respected.

I made another semi-bad decision of making a FB post talking about my anger and mentioning LBGT+ suicides, because being perceived as only female was really putting a damper on my mood, on coming back every day (after hanging out with Cam) and dealing with depression. I was NOT happy in that house and it definitely was a rising factor in why I often felt hopeless and, well, depressed.

I let my friends respond to family since I was gonna be out anyways and I also trust these people with my life. I very commonly mince my words or try to give some ground out of politeness, thus never really getting far when it comes to arguments. (Everyone always seems smarter than me and I end up feeling so stupid after....) Of course, that then resulted in my mom and Elo’s mom feeling targeted and attacked by my friends and boyfriend (who had EVEN MORE RIGHT to say shit), apparently the latter even going on to say this was a “family matter” and my friends (and boyfriend!!) had no place in it.

....Except I let them and the only negatives that came from that was my mom having to face facts that she WAS gaslighting me. Oh, and didn’t use my pronouns until AFTER a friend of mine called her out for it. But okay.

.:.

At this point in time, I....definitely am bitter on how my mom has chosen to go about certain things- the gaslighting and a convo on Insta (that I have screenshotted) where she said “if you cut out all the people who have different opinions from you, you’re going to lose a lot of people”- but I’m not as mad at her as I used to be? (Or maybe it’s the gaslighting. I can’t tell anymore.) It just hurts a shitton to realize that the only reason I couldn’t talk this out with her.....was because of Marshal.

She wanted to play both sides and that isn’t POSSIBLE when “both sides” are “choose between your LGBT+ child or the racist, sexist, transphobic breadwinner and father to 3 kids.” You know who she’d choose. And she did.

(Also, consider that “different opinions” should REALLY mean “we agree on some things, disagree on others, but that open-mindedness keeps us close” and NOT “befriend a person who makes suicide jokes, thinks your gender is a fad/fake, and makes racist remarks, “but it’s just a joke, bro”.” Like?? Just me????)

Definitely pissed at Marshal, though. That’s been a constant from day one of me realizing how garbage he is. Even a friend who defended my mom said fuck him, which really goes to show how awful the man is, without needing to know all of the other things he’s said before. (And he’s said a LOT.) And he’s also the reason that I’m not going back to the house. Why I’m going to try to be moving out.

If it was just my mom, I’d consider it. I’d give it a month to think about things and what I want to do, where I want to go...but Marshal involved? No thanks. Never again. She thinks I’m going to “get a dose of reality” and come crawling back home? Nope. And if she keeps talking like that, none of my future kids are going to meet grandma. >:/

4 notes · View notes

honeysuckle-writings · 4 years

Text

PART THREE PREGAME AMASAI

*************************

Saihara had been so distracted after everything that once his time was up, he almost forgot to get his game back from Akamatsu. He had watched Amami walked out of the aisle before he leaned back against the book shelf and closed his eyes. What the fuck just happened? Why would Amami even acknowledge him in that sense? Saihara took a moment to collect himself before he attempted to leave. He walked back towards his table and grabbed his bag before exiting the library.

Through everything, he felt like he was on cloud nine. He almost wanted to ask Akamatsu to slap him across the face just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. She would end up being way too happy about that request though.

Luckily he didn't have to go far. Akamatsu had been sitting outside of the door on the ground playing on his console.

"Oh, I d-didnt expect to see you h-here." Saihara figured he would have to go and hunt her down.

"Eh. Didn't want to go far. Too busy." She kept her sentences short, obviously in an intense part of the level.

"I appreciate it."

"I didn't do it for you. I just wanted to spend more time playing and less time fighting people off from talking to me. Fuck!" She growled at the screen and tilted her head back. "Fine. Take the stupid thing back. I'm gunna smash it if I keep trying it."

Saihara reached out and took the console without saying anything.

"You seem like you're in another dimension." She stated as she stood up and flattened out her skirt.

"Oh. Uhm. N-no." He couldn't just tell her what happened. She would not believe him and think he just had a wet dream during detention, resulting in her making fun of him even more. "I'm just, uh, ready t-to get home and get someth-thing to eat."

"Yeah." She didn't enjoying going back to her place either. Saihara never pryed too much into her personal life, but knew most nights she didn't go home until well after 11 or 12 when her parents were asleep. She would bounce between friends and hanging out just to pass time. He wondered where she would be going tonight.

They made their way outside, the sun in it's early stages of setting because of the changing season. Saihara didn't live too far from the school making it very easy to walk to and from. Akamatsu normally walked with him until they reached a stop sign at the end of the street before she would break off and head off on her own.

"I-ill see you tomorrow alright?" Saihara waved at her as she shoved headphones into her ears. She nodded at him and quickly turned on her heel.

Saihara dug his keys out of his pocket and made his way up his front porch steps to the door. Once he entered, he knew immediately that his uncle was probably at his office doing some work on a case and he would be alone to fend for himself. This would include making a small rice side or microwave dinner and enjoying some YouTube theories that people had over the last season and predictions for the new season of Danganronpa, right after a shower of course. He could not stay in his clothes for much longer.

He knew he should probably eat better but microwaved food was so much quicker than actually putting in effort to cook. Finally cleaned and cuddled up in his pajamas, Saihara sat down on the couch facing the television in the living room. He plugged up his laptop to the HDMI cord and displayed his YouTube page on the screen.

He thought about shooting a text to Ouma and seeing how he was doing. After seeing him with Amami, he wondered if he could get any info or reasoning why. Did Ouma know what Amami had done? If they were together, would he be mad at him for doing that to Saihara? Did Amami tell Ouma he was spying? He didn't want to make anything worse for Ouma that's for sure but he had so many questions that were overwhelming him.

Saihara sighed and took his phone off the table and sent the text anyway. He at least wanted to strike up conversation again. Ouma was one of the cutest boys he has ever seen. His hair so puffy and soft that he wanted to just pet it, and if you got him laughing then you would become addicted to the sound. Saihara did have a bit of a crush on him when they had first met, but his timid personality clashed with Saihara's inept one. Now he was settling for a simple friendship.

Saihara: *Hey Ouma! What are you up to?* He set the phone down and began to eat on one of the sides from his dinner and pressed play on a video.

Soon a notification on his phone went off.

Ouma: *Hey,, I'm just doing homework. You..?*

Ouma was even timid in his messages.

Saihara: *I'm eating dinner finally and trying to relax.*

Ouma: *oh, yeah I saw you had to stay after. That super sucks.*

Fuck so he did see Saihara there at least?

Saihara: *Oh yeah! You came in sometime during that huh?? There was someone else with you, I think?* He had to play it cool. Maybe he could make it seem like he didn't even know him.

Ouma: *Oh, uhm, yeah.*

Saihara huffed. That was all Ouma was going to say?

Saihara: *That's cool!* He really wanted to press further but wasn't exactly sure what to say. *Is he a friend of yours? Boyfriend? ;) Name??*

It took a lot longer for him to respond this time. Saihara wondered if he had scared him away. He really just, didn't know how to talk to people most of the time. He would become annoying or exhausting and people would eventually cast him away. Social cues just were not his specialty, but he really was trying to work on it.

While he waited, Saihara reached down on the ground for his messenger bag and lifted the flap to look for his notebook. It wasn't right there in the front. He could have sworn he had just stuck it in. He checked behind the other things he had but there was no trace of the notebook. Saihara's eyes widened and he suddenly felt his chest tightening. Fuck.

He knew the sound of his phone had gone off but it sounded so muffled, much like he was underwater. His vision also started to become blurry. Did he leave it at the library? Did it somehow fall out? Someone was going to take it and his life would be over. He found himself gasping for air, the room feeling like it had been closing in on him and he was losing oxygen.

Shakily he reached back into his bag once more, not for his missing notebook, but another compartment that held a small bottle. He flipped the lid off taking a small pill out and took it with a swig of his drink. He kept these on him for moments like this. Moments when he was loosing himself in an attack and needed help to calm it down. He was supposed to be taking them regularly but he opted to only take them during panic attacks.

His mind was running 80 mph as he imagined scenarios of someone picking up his notebook and spreading everything through the school. He grabbed a couch pillow and shoved his face into it, trying to regulate his breathing and keep himself from passing out.

It felt like years to him, but finally he felt himself begin to relax. He could still feel a sense of fear, but his breathing had gone down and his body felt weak. The downside of this was the feeling afterwards, like almost a delay in his reactions. It certainly calmed him down, but it didn't fully take away the feeling that got him there. It was just easier to handle now.

The pillow fell lazily to the ground with a thump and Saihara looked over to his phone. Maybe he would look and distract himself from everything. As he pressed his on button, the screen lit up and it took a second for his vision to adjust to focusing on it. He clicked on the text message Ouma had sent a while ago.

Ouma: *saihara, we both know you know who he is..*

Ouma wasn't wrong. He really didn't think about it when he had sent his reply earlier. He probably looked like a big dumbass. What was he even supposed to say now? A lot of time had passed so he assumed Ouma thought he had ignored him after being called out. Shit another great attempt at a friendship.

Saihara: *Sorry, I know. I was just trying to keep up conversation and not sound too stalkery.*

He put his phone down on to his laptop and looked over at the food he hadn't finished eating. At this point his appetite was shot so it was going to end up as lunch for the next day. Saihara pulled himself up on to wobbly legs and took the bowl to the fridge. Another ding came from his phone, and then another as he finally got back over to the couch.

Ouma had replied.

Ouma: *You're fine,, no worries. Its good that you didnt freak out about it... hehe*

One thing did bother him about the responses. Ouma never addressed the boyfriend part of his question. Saihara wondered if maybe that was intentional. Maybe Ouma didn't want anyone to know or maybe he thought Saihara would throw a fit if he knew, which wasn't the case at all.

But another number had also contacted him.

*Saihara.*

That was, weird. Saihara stared at the message trying to figure out what the best response should be. This mystery number was just another thing on top of his already overwhelmed plate.

Saihara: *Maybe?* That was the stupidest response but nothing else seemed like it would be vague enough to match the vibe.

*Are you missing something?*

Saihara's eyes widened. This had to be the person who stole his notebook.

Saihara: *What gives you the right to dig into my stuff?*

He'd be lying if he said he was anything less than livid. Who had the balls to dig into others belongings? In all actuality, he could think of a few. Momota came to mind. He wouldn't think twice about taking whatever he wanted and having more of a reason to ridicule him. Saihara hoped to whatever deity out there that it wasn't him.

*Says the person who likes to eavesdrop on conversations he isn't a part of.*

Saihara re-read the message at least ten times in his head. No, no way. It couldn't be him. How would he have even gotten his phone number? He didn't have it written down in the notebook anywhere. Maybe someone had been watching them?

Before he knew it, Saihara had pressed the call button at the top of the text messages, determined to get to the bottom of it.

The phone rang three times before it was answered.

"Yeah?"

There was no mistaking that voice. Even over the phone it made him melt like butter.

"Amami?" His voice came out breathy, with a small squeak as he struggled to fit pieces together.

"Mhmm." Amami answered with more of a confirming noise than anything.

"You, you have m-my notebook?"

"You really like Danganronpa don't you?"

Well that answered it. Saihara stayed quiet at that. The answer was completely obvious. Then it hit him. All of the pages that had been dedicated to Amami, were now in his hands.

"Did you, uhm, uh, re-read all o-of it?" Saihara began to bite on his finger nails trying desperately to stay grounded.

"Eh, not yet. You kind've interrupted me." How was Amami so chill about this. He acted so nonchalant about what he had done, about the reactions he was recieving from Saihara.

"Listen, uhm, c-can I just hav-ve it back, please?"

"Sure. I'll give it back to you tomorrow. If you don't get yourself stuck back in the library again."

Saihara pulled his finger out of his mouth and huffed loud enough to he heard against the reviever.

"H-how did you ev-ven get my n-number?" He may have sounded a bit more agitated than he intended to show.

"That's for me to know. Got it?" His smooth, relaxed voice now had a firm sound to it.

"O-okay." Saihara responded immediately. It was time for him to accept his fate at this point.

"I'm not going to share it with anyone." Amami reassured him, almost like he could hear what Saihara was thinking. "I'm not the type of person to do that."

"B-but you're th-the type to s-steal out of pe-peoples bags?"

There was a moment of silence between the two.

"I-im sorry. I d-didnt mean to, to snap." Saihara apologized. "I was j-just, uh, freaking out earlier."

Amami had made another noise in response to the confession. "I'm not surprised. Look, I'll give it to you tomorrow. No one else will see it. Meet me at the store across the street in the morning okay?"

"Okay. Uhm. I just, I advise you b-before you read more. It's uh, s-some of it m-may have you in it."

"Do you not want me to read that then?"

That caught him off guard. Did Amami really care enough to skip the pages doodled in hearts about him? Or would he lie and read them anyway?

"If you really don't want me to then I won't. I haven't gotten far. Just a couple of excecution you have planned out."

Saihara thought for a moment. Amami had touched him in the library today. What if he was actually eager to read what was in there? Maybe Amami could handle it, if he felt the same way. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of Amami feeling the same way about him.

Deep down, it was also thrilling to have him read those fantasies.

"Y-you can."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I-I don't mind. Just, d-dont hate me for some of the s-stuff in there."

"Want me to tell you when I have or keep it to myself?"

This all seemed to point towards Amami actually caring about his feelings in all of this. It reassured Saihara that perhaps things wouldn't be so bad. Maybe the outcome would be much like the movies where one person would read the love letters and fall in love with the sender.

"Please tell me. I'll b-be worried sick if I just, just don't know anything."

"Will do then. I'll text you." And with that Amami hung up.

Saihara let out a shaky breath and saved the number into his phone. Amami's name, with quite a few hearts following. He couldn't help it. This is not at all how he thought he and Amami would start talking, but he still relished in seeing that name in his contacts and felt like he was in a dream state. That night he was going to eagerly wait with his phone volume turned up.

#pregame amasai #rantaro amami #shuichi saihara #danganronpa #drv3

18 notes · View notes

rami-hoe · 5 years

Text

Confessions (Part Two)

Pairing: Josh x reader

Word Count: 2.1K

CW: pressure to have sex

The last month had been interesting, to say the least. Josh and I started testing the waters of our newfound relationship. For the first three weeks, as far as anyone in our friend group was concerned, nothing had changed. I liked to think we had them fooled, even though Sam insisted she knew it all along. We thought it was better to test the waters first, get used to the new dynamic of our relationship before we went public and had to deal with a hundred questions from everyone we knew. Unfortunately, discretion wasn’t one of Josh’s strong suits, and we found ourselves dealing with near misses on a regular basis. After a while, we agreed that answering the questions would be less work than trying to keep up the ruse. As expected, everybody freaked out. His sisters ran to hug me, Chris clapped him on the back, and while I can’t prove anything, I’m pretty sure I saw some money exchange hands. The excitement died down after a couple days, and Josh and I were able to focus on each other.

Jess and I weren’t exactly close, but after Josh and I got together, she seemed to take more of an interest in me. She kept pestering me to hang out and have some girl time with her, despite the fact that we had never spent five minutes alone together before. After a while, I gave into the demand. We went out for lunch. I figured that was the easiest of all the suggestions she made. I could get through one meal with her, couldn’t I?

As I suspected, all she wanted was to talk about Josh. She wanted details about everything: what kind of dates we went on, if he had bought me any presents, how often we texted. I tried to answer her questions well enough to get her to stop asking without giving her any unnecessary details. I seemed to be able to sate her curiosity well enough. Well, at least until we reached the one particular subject I got the feeling was all Jess really cared about.

“Does he live up to all the hype?” She sipped on her coke and stared at me with those bright blue eyes.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean the ‘bone zone.’” She laughed and set down her glass. “He talks such a big game- I gotta know, can he actually play?”

“Let’s talk about something else,” I said.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re both girls.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I popped a mushroom into my mouth and took my time chewing.

“Girls talk about how their man is with their girlfriends,” she said. The condescension in her voice made my muscles clench. “How big is he? I’ve been wondering. I mean, he’s so tall- my guess is at least seven inches. Am I right?”

I pushed my food around with my fork. “I, uh… Well, I’m not sure-”

Jess reached across the table and slapped my forearm. “Oh my god, you haven’t fucked him yet?” Heat rose in my cheeks and I stared at my suddenly enthralling plate. “Why not? I can name fifteen girls who’d kill to get in his pants right now.”

I didn’t doubt that she could, but I didn’t want to hear the list. “We’ve only been dating a few weeks,” I said.

“Josh doesn’t usually wait a few weeks,” she said.

“I know.” I huffed.

Jess leaned back in her chair. “Hey, don’t get pissy,” she said. “I’m just surprised. Josh isn’t the type to play the long game. You know he has plenty of alternates waiting on the sidelines.”

I dropped my fork on my plate with a clank, finding my appetite mysteriously gone. “Thanks,” I said. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She laughed, but I had a hard time finding the joke. “You can’t make a guy like Josh wait too long.” She stirred her drink with her straw. “Playing hard to get is one thing, but you don’t want him to think you’re a prude.” As our waiter, an admittedly cute guy who was at least ten years older than either of us, walked by, Jess pulled her straw out of her glass and ran it across her tongue. “I’m just trying to help you out. If you wanna keep him, you have to give him something. Especially if he’s spending as much on your dates as you say he is.”

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself for telling her where she could stick her friendly advice. “What I give him is none of your business.”

“Why so hostile?” Drops of amber liquid fell from the end of her straw and spattered on the table. “Look, sex isn’t a big deal with a guy like Josh. He’s not gonna think you’re too easy if you give it up.”

My left hand clenched into a tight fist. “I know that.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Then why hold out on him?” My eyes moved around the room, settling on anything and everything other than the woman sitting across me. She leaned halfway over the table, her prying eyes attempting to read my expression. “You have had sex, haven’t you?” I didn’t have to reply. My expression gave her the answer she wanted. “Oh my god! You’re a virgin?” Her whisper-yells were just loud enough to earn a glance from the table next to us. “Does Josh know?”

I gave her an answer for the sole purpose of shutting her up. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

Jess had even more questions about my (lack of) sexual activity than she did about my relationship with Josh, and I wanted to answer them even less. I got out of there the second we finished eating, but it was still the longest lunch I had ever sat through. As much as I wanted to dismiss what she said, I found myself incapable of doing so. My mind lingered on the conversation, on Jess’ warnings and advice. As blunt and intrusive as it was, I had to admit that Jess knew more about this kind of stuff than I did. Virginity wasn’t a huge deal to me; I didn’t even believe in the concept. I just hadn’t really had the opportunity to have sex with the right person. There was no doubt in my mind that Josh was the right person, so why was I so hesitant? Maybe I was overthinking this. If it wasn’t a big deal to me, and it would make Josh happy, why shouldn’t I do it? I mean, Josh had spent a lot on me. His family was rich as hell, I knew that. But I wasn’t prepared for the sheer amount of money he was willing to drop on me, like it was nothing. Whenever we went out, he insisted on paying for everything, and the places he took me to weren’t cheap either. The least I could do is give him something in return.

Jess’ words still rang in my ears days later. I watched TV, and I thought about sex. I did schoolwork, and I thought about sex. I met Josh at his place for a movie date, and I thought about sex. I couldn’t say what was on Josh’s mind for certain, but it had to mean something that he invited me over when the rest of his family was out. We curled up together on the basement suite couch and Josh put on some horror movie nobody had ever heard of. He liked thrillers. To more precise, he liked the idea of me being scared into his arms by thrillers. But I couldn’t focus on the movie enough to be scared by it, and it didn’t take Josh long to notice. He paused it half an hour in to ask me what was up. I didn’t have an answer, and I didn’t try to come up with one. Instead, I took what seemed to me was the only sensible course of action: I swung my leg over, straddled his lap, and pulled him into a heated kiss. Josh’s reaction was delayed only by the shock of the sudden movement. He caught up with me in a few seconds, and wrapped his arms around my waist. His tongue slipped into my mouth, gliding against my own. I ran my fingers through his hair before dropping my hands down to his chest.

I broke the kiss and slid back off his lap. I knelt on the floor in front of him, my hands moving down to tug at his belt. Josh laughed. “What’re you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” I asked. I didn’t look up from my task, but my shaking hands refused to cooperate. Why the hell was I so nervous?

“Hey, hey.” Josh’s hands covered my own and didn’t move until I met his eyes. “You’re sure you’re ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I winced at the harshness in my own voice, and Josh pulled his hands away from mine.The shame I had felt with Jess made an unwelcome reprise as I stood up and moved away from the couch, crossing my arms over my chest. Josh’s stare bore into my skull, and I heard him fitting his belt back into place.

“Are you gonna tell me what that was about?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m sorry- I’m just being stupid.”

The couch groaned as Josh stood up. “You’re not being stupid.” He put his hand on my shoulder and turned me around. “Weird, yeah, but not stupid.” His fingers used brushing my hair back as an excuse to cup my cheek. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just…” I sighed. “We’ve been dating a month, and you’ve been so good and patient and everything.” I wasn’t aware I was chewing my bottom lip until I ripped off a piece of skin too deep. The metallic taste of blood coated the tip of my tongue. “It’s not fair, me making you wait so long.”

Josh laughed. “Fair?”

I frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“You make it sound like you owe it to me.” The smile fell off his face when I didn’t respond. “You do know you don’t owe me sex, right?”

“No- I mean, yeah. Of course not.” I shook my head, like that would get my thoughts in order. “But you take me out to all those nice places, and I want to give you something in return-”

“You don’t have to give me anything,” he said. “Y/N, I don’t take you to those places because I think I’ll get something out of it.”

“I know that.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “But I know most of your girlfriends don’t make you wait this long, and I thought-” I stopped myself before I finished the sentence, but Josh knew what I was going to say.

“You seriously thought I’d break up with you for not having sex with me?” His voice was quiet, but the hurt in it was deafening.

I shook my head. “No- it’s just, Jess said-”

“You’re not dating Jess,” he said. “You’re dating me, and I’ve never even implied that I’ll leave you if you don’t put out.”

“I don’t think you’ll leave me, I just...” My eyes began to water against my will.

“Just what?” Josh snapped.

“I just want to make you happy,” I said.

“And sex is the only way to do that?” “I don’t know!” I wrapped my arms over my stomach. “I just know you like it, and it’s not like I’ve been holding off for any real reason- I just wanted it to be with the right person and…”

Josh stepped backwards. “You’re a virgin?” He laughed without humour. “Were you planning on telling me that before you started sucking my dick?”

I studied the floor. “It’s not important,” I said.

“Of course it’s important,” Josh replied.

I looked back up at him, my jaw clenching. “I don’t care about virginity.”

The irritation in Josh’s expression matched my own. “So you don’t want to wait until marriage- that doesn’t mean your first time doesn’t matter,” he said. “Whether your virginity is important to you or not, your first time should be something you want to do, not something you do because you think it’ll make me happy.”

I licked my lips and sighed. “I thought it was what you wanted.”

Josh slid his hand down my arm and took my hand. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he said. “I don’t want our first time together to be something you’ll regret.” He pulled me into his arms, and I wrapped my arms around his waist.

“You really don’t mind waiting?” I asked.

“Hey, I’ve got a fleshlight and a bottle of lube in my bedroom- I’m golden.”

#one shot #confessions #josh washington #josh washington x reader #joshua washington x reader #josh washington imagine #josh until dawn

153 notes · View notes

cloudfiveclub · 5 years

Text

age is just a number ➵ z.d.j.

Summary ; Zabdiel’s always had a thing for older women.

Warning(s) ; swearing

Word Count ; 2.2k+

Author’s Note ; hey everyone! this is the first part of a collab series @dimelomamii and I have written together. pretty basic of a plot with cliches, but hopefully you guys enjoy it! let us know your thoughts and if you’d like to see a continuation x

masterlist

disclaimer | these are only based on my own opinions and imagination and are purely fictitious, as such they in no way accurate or true

When the hell is this meeting going to end?

You had been stuck in this meeting for about three hours discussing the designs for a skyscraper your company got commissioned for another in Shanghai. You loved your job, but this project was just so boring. Your boss was just droning on and on about all the unimportant stuff, and the details that were crucial were not being discussed. You had tried bringing it up a few times, but it seemed like nobody was quite interested in that just yet.

“Alright everyone, we will pick up where we left off tomorrow,” your boss finally concluded. You sighed quietly in relief, gathering my materials and making a beeline for the elevator, dodging attempts at conversation from your coworkers as politely as you could. You packed up your stuff at your desk, before exiting the building, making your way to the train station nearby. It was the evening rush hour, and the subway was jammed pack with people all eagerly rushing to get home.

Along the way, you came across a poster of that one boy band your younger sister, Camila was in love with. CNCO, they were called. You didn’t know them very well, you just knew they were talented and attractive. Camila, on the other hand, was ready to die for them. She’d emphasised that fact on numerous occasions; swooning over their “ridiculously good looks”, more particularly the one with a curly mop of black hair who always wore a bandana. Joseph or Jacob or something.

Still, while you weren’t a huge fan, Camila still was, which was why you had taken the liberty of getting VIP tickets for the both of you for their concert in the city the following month. Lucky for her too it lined up right on her 19th birthday. You still remembered the absolute joy on her face when you told her she was actually going to get a chance to meet the “loves of her life”. She’d screamed at the top of her lungs, immediately pulling you into a crushing hug. She claimed you were the “best sister ever”, in which you responded that she didn’t have a choice on that seeing that you were her only sister. Nothing made you happier than seeing her happy.

You weren’t going to admit it out loud, but you were pretty excited to meet them too, even if you didn’t particularly like them as much as most of the other girls. You’d seen some interviews, and listened to a few of their songs, and they seemed like great, talented boys. You really were looking forward to meeting them, but for now, there were more important things to take care of.

Like that boring project.

“Just go straight to your left and you will find the room with a sign that says meet and greet and just join the queue,” the guard informs the both of you as he scans your tickets. You thanked him, and Camila and you make your way inside. She was practically buzzing with joy, excitement evident in her large eyes.

“God, I know I’ve said this a million times by thank you so much, Jen,” Camila said to you once again. Her hand gripped your arm tightly, squeezing in gratefulness, and over-excitement. “You’re seriously the best sister anyone could ask for.”

“I know,” you responded, laughing lightly.

You reached the designated room backstage, and you were immediately struck by how chattery everyone was. Girls of all ages were abuzz with excitement and talking to one another, whether or not they personally knew each other or not. You could barely remember the last time you’d seen so many fangirls in one place. This was a young people thing, you’d told yourself. You remembered coming for meet and greets and going to concerts when you were younger, but you were a grown working adult now, you barely had the time.

“I’m really nervous Jen, what will they think of me?” Camila blabbered nervously. She ran her hand through her hair in attempt to make herself look better, although she already looked perfectly fine. “Do I look ok?” she asked, turning to face you.

“You look great and don’t worry, they will love you. Just be yourself, but don’t jump onto what’s-his-name. Bandana guy. Give him some space, alright?” you tell her, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. You look back up, and screams sounded out suddenly as the boys came backstage. You swore you saw someone faint, but you couldn’t quite tell from all the chaos.

“Oh my god, look at Joel,” Camila practically squeals in your ear, grabbing onto your arm and shaking it vigorously. You wince when she yells, but you laugh her enthusiasm off. “Fucking hell, he looks better in person,” she adds on, fanning herself dramatically with her other hand. You snort, rolling your eyes at her reaction. He was kind of cute, you figured.

Security calms everyone down as best as they could; slightly redundant but still a solid effort before they started the meet and greets. The two of you wait in line patiently - well, you did, you couldn’t say the same about Camila - until security motions you to pass through a curtain that leads to the stage where the boys were standing and talking to one another.

Grace and composure, you’d reminded Camila, but that piece of advice seemed to fly out of her head as she skipped over to Bandana guy and pulled him into an eager hug without so much of a “hello”. Or “hola”, since they were latino.

You trailed behind her, greeting them as Camila moved on to the other members to do her round of hugging and fangirling. Standing next to Bandana guy was a particularly tall member. She wrapped her arms around him and he returned the hug warmly, and when he looked back up to say hello to you, you swore he did a double take.

“Hola,” he greeted, his tone a little off. You raised your eyebrows in confusion, but gave him a friendly smile. You let Camila have them to herself, and you kept your eye on her to make sure she didn’t do anything particularly stupid or invasive. But in your peripheral vision, you could see the tall one eyeing you.

Damn, was he not going to take his eyes off of you? Was there something on your face? Did you put too much blush on by accident?

You glanced at him briefly, making eye contact awkwardly for a split second before you moved your gaze over to your sister again.

A little awkward... but at least he’s good looking.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you inwardly thanked the heavens for saving you from a mildly awkward situation and instead giving you something to do to make yourself seem preoccupied. You fish your phone out of your back pocket, opening up the lockscreen to see a new text from one of your coworkers regarding work. You typed a response to her, but as your fingers were moving across the keyboard, you started to get a feeling that someone was moving towards you.

You look back up, and realise it’s the tall one from earlier making his way towards you. You stood awkwardly in place as he approached you. He wasn’t that far away, but it seemed like he was taking forever to get to you. It was like some intense scene from a movie, and you couldn’t help the nerves that had started to creep up on you as he walked towards you.

When he finally reached you, he stood awfully close. Maybe even a little too close. He had an intense gaze, and you felt instantly vulnerable simply just by looking at him. He looked even taller up close too, and he towered over you intimidatingly.

“Uh... Hi?” you said, your tone making it sound more like a question rather than a friendly ‘hello’. “Can I help you?”

Zabdiel’s POV

“Perdona, sabes dónde está la tierra? Porque desde que te vi ando en las nubes,” I spoke as lowly as I could.

I noticed how a visible blush crept onto her face when I said that, and it definitely only fuelled my ego. It must have worked. Not one of my best pick-up lines, but if it made her blush, it means it really wasn’t that bad.

She was absolutely gorgeous, and had quite a nice looking rack going on in front. I let my eyes rake down the length of her body quickly, slow enough that she noticed it but fast enough to seem like I was merely doing a quick once over of her. I didn’t want to seem like such a creep.

She mustered up a pretty smile, though I did get a feeling she was midly uncomfortable. “I don’t really know you guys, sorry, aha,” she told me, her tone still light. “My sister’s the bigger fan,” she added, gesturing to the other girl. I looked over, and saw her sister almost draped across Joel, but still simultaneously talking to Richard and Chris. I had to hold in a laugh. Joel was always one of the more popular ones amongst the fans.

“Uh- what’s your name, by the way? And how old are you?” She asked me.

I stuck out my hand, prompting her to shake it. Her hand was small and smooth against mine, and the differences in our palm size almost had me distracted for a second.

“Zabdiel, 21. You are?”

“Jennifer and I’m-”

But before she could finish her introduction, the security guards had started guiding both her and her sister away, an indicator that their time was pretty much up and had to leave. My heart skipped a beat, panicking momentarily when I realised I only knew her by name and physical looks, and didn’t have a number or anything. I didn’t have time to ask for any of that, but thankfully her sister delayed their leave for a little.

“Wait! I didn’t get a picture!” She exclaimed. She handed her phone over to a guard, and pulled both me and Jennifer into the frame quickly, pushing Jennifer between me and Richard while she stood between Joel and Chris. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, and put on a grin like always.

“I’d love if I could have your number, cariña,” I whispered to her quietly through clenched teeth while the guard snapped a few shots. “I’d like to get to know you more.”

“No offense, but I’m not that interested,” she whispered back. My heart dropped a little when she said that, shoulders slumping slightly. Disappointing, but I wasn’t going to pass up on an opportunity to get to know a pretty girl that easily.

“Can I at least have your Instagram?” I murmured, stepping away as the guard gave a thumbs up, indicating the picture had been taken. She looks at me skeptically for a few moments, before she nods. She gives me her user, and I fish my phone out of my pocket hurriedly to type it in and find it. It was private, so I sent in a request, but before I could thank her properly, she and her sister were ushered away.

“Gracias mamita, enjoy the show!” I shouted after her anyway.

Jennifer’s POV

Goddamn, you still had zero idea what happened.

You still couldn’t quite believe your luck; having a man as attractive as that ask for your number?

Zabdiel, his name was, was performing on stage with the rest of his bandmates. And you were pretty much salivating. He was a guy who knew how to move those hips, and you didn’t understand how he could feel zero shame doing something as sinful as grinding into the air like that. It was ridiculous. Guys your age were nowhere near as good looking as him.

You blushed furiously when his eyes met yours, and his left eye dropped into a wink. The few girls directly in front and behind you went wild instantly, and you knew they were screaming because every one of them thought he had winked at them. But you knew it was directed at you. His hand moved down towards his crotch for a brief second, and he grinded against his hand and you didn’t know if it was possible, but all the girls around you screamed louder.

You could barely take your eyes off of him the entirety of the show, completely in awe and starstruck even though you weren’t a fan. Well, you were definitely one now.

The time went by way too quickly for your liking, and before you knew it, you were back home after dropping your sister at your mother’s place. You were still in a daze from what had happened, and all of Camila’s swooning and rambling went in one ear and out the other the whole car ride.

Jesus, you didn’t even have sex with him, Jen, all he did was hump the air and you’re already dying.

You huffed as you threw your keys into the dish on the table, ready to collapse into bed after such an eventful day, but before you could do anything else, you got a notification from instagram.

You opened it up, and it brought you to the ‘requests’ section in your DMs. Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest when you saw who it was from. Zabdiel.

#cnco imagines #cnco #cnco fanfic #cnco imagine #cnco x reader #zabdiel de jesus #joel pimentel #richard camacho #erick colon #erick brian colon #christopher velez #zabdiel de jesus x reader #zabdiel de jesus imagines #zabdiel de jesus imagine

154 notes · View notes

takadasaiko · 4 years

Text

Houseguest Chapter Three

FFN II AO3

Summary: Tony and Steve' investigate the burglary at the Stark Industry.

Chapter Three: Always Come Prepared

Tony didn't bother calling ahead to the location. He didn't typically make trips out to facilities unless R&D work was being done there, so on the off chance that someone inside his company had orchestrated the break in he didn't want to give them any warning. Granted, he had to admit there was something amusing about watching people scurry when the man whose name was on the side of the building showed up unannounced. Not everything could be strategic. Life was meant to be entertaining.

Cap had decided to tag along rather than go into town. He looked like a fish out of water as he followed Tony into the facility, and even more awkward as the SI employees went into overdrive for the surprise visit.

"Mr Stark?" Tony turned to see what he assumed was the man in charge around there barreling towards him. "Bill Wiley. I'm sorry nobody greeted you when you arrived. No one said you'd be coming in personally," the building manager said as nearly raced to meet him.

Tony greeted the sweaty man with a handshake that couldn't be avoided without coming across like an ass. "It was taking a while for the report to hit our servers. I thought I might be able to speed things along."

He didn't miss the way Bill Wiley glanced nervously at Rogers who, in turn, was sweeping every visible inch of the space with that sharp blue gaze of his. He might be behind the times on tech, but Cap had proven resourceful when he was interested in uncovering the truth on something. Maybe it was a good idea to have brought him along afterall.

"Well, it was in the middle of the night with our skeleton security crew, sir. We've been working with the police and running inventory on —"

"Perfect," Tony cut him off. "Whatcha got?"

"For… inventory…. sir?" the other man asked like he was certain he must have misunderstood.

"Yep. What'd they steal?"

The manager looked like he was bordering on terrified as he answered. "Nothing, as far as we can tell." He stopped, and Tony was fairly sure that he was weighing if what he wanted to say would get him fired or not. He motioned for him to spit it out and the man swallowed hard. "Do you… know what we do at this office, sir?"

"Something having to do with, uh…." Tony drawled out, desperately wracking his brain for the answer. He'd seen it, right? He was sure that he'd seen it or that JARVIS had told him or something. The hangover was starting to recede, but that didn't mean he hadn't missed a few things on the way there.

"I'm with your marketing division. I just happened to be the manager that answered the call at six this morning and came in."

"Six? They said the break in was at three."

"Might have been, sir, but I was at home asleep." Poor Bill Wiley, who appeared to be too far out of his depths for comfort, ducked his head. "We're the catch-all. We've got a few marketing teams that aren't housed at HQ or in New York, the aviation department holds meetings and keep their offices here, and a couple of underwriters that live out this way come in here to avoid the commute. We don't house anything worth stealing."

"Hey, Tony?"

Tony turned, finding Steve further away than he expected. He was standing with a security guard that looked more than a little starstruck. Good. Maybe that meant he'd helpful.

"Tony, this is -"

"Juan Morales. Wow. I didn't think I'd actually ever get to meet you. You're Iron Man."

"Sometimes," Tony answered casually as he sauntered over. "Right now I just own a company who had a break in that I'd like to know more about."

"I wasn't on duty when it happened. I start the morning shift at nine."

Tony shot Cap a look, but the other man motioned for patience.

"I'm buddies with Tom in the main office. Guess it's the one you work out of?"

"I work out of my house most days, but you were saying?"

"Right… So, Tom said that some of the other security guards from around the city sent in reports about signs of guys casing the places. I mean, most of them were warehouses and storage facilities and stuff, but we've all got the same basic security protocols, right? It's weird."

"Do you think they were testing them?" Steve prompted.

"Yeah. I mean, response times are gonna be different in each location, but the alarms, how long they take to go off, if the building has any lockdown protocols…."

It was like a slap to the face. "Which they all do," Tony managed.

"But no one was here. There was a delay in the lockdown. No code or anything, but nobody trapped either."

"Like they found an override….. Can you get me a list? The other locations your buddy mentioned?"

"Oh yeah, sure, Mr Stark. Anything you need."

"Just that list. And, kid, if this leads to something, you're getting the bonus of a lifetime." He turned towards Steve as the young guard bolted off to get him what he needed.

"You think someone's after something."

"More sure of it every second. Listen, uh… this is my problem. If you wanna go do the whole touristy thing -"

"What? And let you have all the fun?"

Brown eyes met blue and there wasn't even a hint of sarcasm. Cap wanted to help. Okay then. This could get interesting.

_____________

JARVIS has been running probability calculations all day, leaving Tony to tinker and Cap to wander around LA at his leisure. He'd left his things at the mansion, though, so Tony assumed he was coming back.

It left him with time on his hands and time was spent tinkering with suits and a variety of other projects in his downstairs workshop. It did wonders for his nerves and let him focus on something else when he didn't have enough data to start tracking down this unseen enemy.

"Tony?"

He jumped at the light touch on his shoulder, hissing a soft curse as the soldering tool touched his opposite hand and burned it. He turned, finding Pepper to his left and she looked startled by the extreme reaction. "I called your name a couple of times."

"In the zone, sorry," he mumbled and held his hand up to examine it. He'd had a lot worse.

Pepper reached for it, her hand gentle against his as if she didn't trust his assessment. "You should ice it."

The argument died on his lips and he offered her a smile instead. He stood, but instead of moving to the freezer to grab one of the waiting ice packs he kept there, he leaned in. She snorted a laugh, muffled by the kiss, and Tony wrapped his arms around her to pull her just a little closer. She gave in and he could feel her smile against him as she reached up, one hand trailing along the side of his face until her arm rested against his shoulder, elbow bent so that her fingers toyed with his dark hair. Okay. This was nice. It did wonders for his nerves too. One of the many, many reasons he never wanted to let her go. "Hey, maybe we could -" he started in the same moment Pepper said —

"Did I hear something about a break in last night?"

Right. That. He released her and started towards to freezer. "Yeah, the offices out in Burbank."

"In Burbank? There's nothing out there to steal."

"I think they were testing our security protocols." He grabbed the ice pack and winced as he pressed it to the burn.

"Does Barry know?"

Tony snorted, shooting her a withering look. "My money's on no. Remind me why we pay him?"

"Because he's the head of security, Tony."

"He's terrible at his job."

Pepper leaned against one of his work tables and crossed her arms. "And who would you replace him with? You've hated every name I've given you in the last five years."

"We didn't know any of those people."

"Tony," she said in that tone that said she thought he was bordering on the absurd, "we don't know most new hires. That's what references and due diligence is for."

"Happy."

She blinked at him. "Hogan?"

"Yeah. He's been running my personal security for years-"

"Babysitting you, you mean?"

"- and yours for the last two. He knows every last security protocol we have and I guarantee he has ideas. We know him, there's no question we can trust him. How have we not already done it? Let's do it."

"Promote Happy to head of security?"

"Yeah."

She was still looking at him like he'd lost it. After a long moment she loosed a breath, letting her arms drop. "I'll make you a deal. You do what you're going to do anyway and figure out if this was more than just a one-off break in and if - if, Tony - SI's security has been compromised we'll revisit the topic when I get back from London."

"Deal. Wait. London?"

She crossed the space between and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "It's been on the books for two weeks."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I'll be back on Saturday. Think you can manage?"

Tony feigned a hurt look. "No faith in me, Miss Potts?"

The look didn't phase her and her voice was painfully sweet as she spoke. "I just know you, Mr Stark. I left a reminder with JARVIS about the R&D meeting tomorrow. Please don't miss it?"

"Promise."

"Thank you. And try not to get shot at or blown up while your looking into your thief?"

He reached out for her hand and pulled her close again. "Do my best," he murmured, and she was close enough he could feel her breath on his skin. He didn't want her to go. Selfish, he knew, but it didn't change the feeling.

"The calculations are complete, sir," JARVIS' voice rang out, causing them both to jump, instantly pulled from the moment.

Pepper cleared her throat. "I need to head to the airport. Let me know how it goes?"

"Will do. Love you."

He loved that smile of hers. "Love you too."

Tony waited until she was out of the lab and starting back up the stairs. "This better be good, J."

"I wouldn't have interrupted if it weren't important, sir," his AI responded. "I've run the calculations that you requested, and have come up with two likely targets and the top five most likely times that the breach will be attempted."

"Put it up on the screen," Tony instructed and watched the data flicker into his vision. "Pretty sure you can take the warehouse on the right off, JARVIS."

"I was afraid you might say so, sir. Shall I contact the authorities?"

"No. Let security onsite know there's an issue, but I'll deal with it."

"Sir, if I may -"

"You may not."

"I only wished to inform you that Captain Rogers is back. In case you would like to enlist his aid." The second half of the announcement was spoken so quickly that Tony had to wonder if JARVIS was trying to get it out before the mutecommand was given. He should probably be more nervous that he was that his AI had developed quite that much obstinance when it came to his warnings being heard at the very least, even if he really still couldn't do anything about making Tony follow them.

"Thanks, buddy," Tony said instead, letting it slide. He couldn't fault JARVIS for trying to look out for him.

_____________

Agreeing to help Tony Stark was turning out to feel like he'd been caught in a riptide. There was no real control. All he could do was let himself be dragged along until he surfaced at the other end.

Steve had barely walked into the house when Tony had come flying up from his lab and told him that if he still wanted to help, he better hurry up. He barely stopped long enough to add that he knew where his mysterious burglars were going to strike next and that he wanted to get out there to go over everything with his security team onsite. If Steve wanted any more details than that, he could get them on the way.

Tony talked almost as fast as he drove, rattling off so much information that Steve had to listen fast to catch the important pieces. "Wait, Wait. Hold on a second. What exactly are you doing with alien tech?"

The other man was halfway through a new sentence when he seemed to hear the question. "Huh? Oh. I created a new department at Stark Industries after the Battle of New York to work with the government to help with the cleanup."

"You? Working with the government?" Steve asked, shooting the other man an amused look. He'd seen clips of what happened a couple years before when he'd been called to Capitol Hill to discuss the Iron Man suits. His mockery of the Senate wasn't the top video when Steve had searched his name, but it was close. Funny thing, he's found some old reels put on the internet of Howard in a similar position after the war. He'd responded flippantly, hoeing no rea respect for the elected officials that had questioned him. Like father, like son.

"It does happen every once and awhile."

"I'm still not sure why we didn't contact the police. This seems like the type of thing they should handle."

"All the cops will do is scare them off and we'll lose them," Tony grumbled as he took a particularly sharp turn too fast for comfort. He glanced over, and Steve couldn't shake the feeling that he was sizing up his reaction to tailor his own. "I need more data. Let's get there, get the lay of the land, and then maybe we'll loop LAPD in."

"Backup couldn't hurt," Steve pressed. "In case things move quicker than you're expecting."

"I don't need that kind of backup. The LAPD are great for what they do, but I became Iron Man to make sure that no one could use my stuff to hurt people. This falls firmly in that category."

"And they're okay with that?"

"Oh no, they hate it. Just can't really stop me," Tony chuckled and turned a corner. A warehouse came into view, large and gated with a guard station at the edge. The guard did not look happy as they pulled up next to it.

"Mr Stark," the guard greeted, his tone matching his worried expression. "I was just about to put a call in, sir. Communication with the warehouse went down about two minutes ago. I can't get through to anybody inside. I know you said -"

"Yep," Tony cut him off and killed the car engine.

Steve watched him step outside and followed half a moment later, his gaze trained on the warehouse. It was quiet, which might be expected after the close of the business day if it weren't for the fact that Tony had sent a warning ahead. For that, it was suspiciously quiet.

It didn't last. There was a loud crash that drew their attention and a figure stumbled out the door and fell hard against the ground.

"Shit," Tony cursed. "They're already inside."

"Call the LAPD," Steve instructed the guard before Tony could counter him. It wasn't until no argument came that he saw him toying with what looked like a bracelet of some kind. "What are you-?"

Tony nodded at the car. "Check the trunk."

Steve shot him a questioning look, but circled around to where it had popped open. Inside he saw his shield. The same one Tony had asked to take a look at while he'd been out earlier that day. "Just coming to check things out, huh?"

There was a loud roar that he'd heard before and one of Tony's suits came into view from seemingly nowhere. It barreled down and opened up just long enough for him to step in before it snapped shut around him. "Always come prepared, right?" he asked through the suit and Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"The police are on their way," the guard offered.

"Fine. We'll have it wrapped before they get within a mile." Steve could feel that dark gaze move to him even through the helmet. "You with me, Cap, or do you wanna wait for your buddies?"

Steve pushes a frustrated breath out his nose as he grabbed his shield.

_____________

TBC

Notes: I was just writing along and suddenly Tony's pitching Happy for the head of security position. Don't know what to tell you. Apparently Barry sucks at his job. He's a lousy Forehead of Security :P

Next Time: Tony and Steve race against the clock to rescue the hostages and catch the thieves.

#MCU fanfiction #Iron Man #Avengers #Tony Stark #Steve Rogers #Captain America #Pepper Potts

1 note · View note

carmenlire · 5 years

Text

Higher than the Big Trees Ch. 38

read chapter one

read on ao3

Magnus takes a bracing breath as he rounds the corner. Columbia comes into view and he scans the edge of campus warily, looking for any eager paparazzi lurking in the bushes.

The first time he’d dealt with them, he’d been a snot-nosed teenager, equal parts terrified and furious at the intrusion into his privacy. His father-- Asmodeus-- had taken care of him as best he could, however, even when in prison and Magnus still sent a Christmas card to his bodyguard at the time, the man who’d kept paps from getting too close until he’d graduated and fled New York altogether for several years.

He’s older and wiser now, Magnus thinks. He was made of sterner stuff than he’d known back then. Plus, he's well aware that this was the last real barrier between him and Alec. If this thing between them is going to work-- if they have a real shot at this-- then Magnus needs to come to terms, finally, with just what it means to be Alec Lightwood’s boyfriend.

Out of the frying pan, he thinks wryly and strides across the street, checking his watch.

His class is due to start in a little over half an hour and Magnus is just set to step onto campus when he hears the shutter of a camera a few feet away. He doesn't startle. No, instead he stares straight ahead as though he doesn’t know what’s going on and wonders distantly if the paps will follow him onto Columbia's grounds.

“Hey, Magnus! Mr. Bane!”

Magnus debates for half a second before raising cool eyes to the reporter. “That’s Dr. Bane,” he offers with an arch smile.

Looking both surprised and exalted that Magnus had actually acknowledged him, the man holding the camera bounds forward, far too close to Magnus.

Magnus switches his gaze from the man-- who looked to be in his early twenties and in desperate need of a haircut-- to the closest entrance to campus. He can see a few students standing at attention in the grass.

They’re carefully not looking at the scene unfolding but Magnus knows he has their attention.

“Dr. Bane, then, okay. Sorry, man. Want to give me the inside scoop to your relationship with Alec Lightwood?”

“No comment.”

“Come on, Magnus. It’s front page news and all anyone can talk about. A professor is the one who finally snagged the hottest bachelor in the industry.” He throws Magnus a cajoling smile, one that says hey we’re friends, right?

Magnus scoffs internally. Vultures, he thinks viciously. They’re all goddamned vultures.

He doesn’t respond and he’s less than a dozen steps from campus.

It’s a little surprising but Magnus isn’t feeling the edge of panic. He knows that it would undoubtedly be worse if he were surrounded, if there were a dozen paps circling him and cameras were flashing in his face. He still remembers some of those very scenes from high school and they make his heart lurch.

Journalists don’t care about their very unwilling victims. They’re leeches, trying to grab all the information and notoriety they can-- bleeding their target dry-- before moving onto the next poor bastard.

At seventeen, Magnus had been furious and overwhelmed. Now, he’s just tired. He’s tired of the sensationalism. He’s tired at the thought of dealing with this for the foreseeable future until something else happens that causes a scandal grand enough for him to be left moderately alone with Alexander.

It’s with the thought of his boyfriend-- his fucking boyfriend-- that Magnus finds solace. He’s doing this for Alec-- for them-- and that gives him some much needed strength. The pap dogging his heels is an annoyance at best.

After last night, Magnus needs to trust in Alec, in this thing they’re building.

God, he thinks, a little dizzy with the wave of overwhelming happiness that washes over him. He’d been been so terrified and worried about Alec’s reaction. He’d thought they’d had more time-- that he’d had more time before everything would come crashing down and that news report had shaken him, badly.

He knew how it looked and he could almost see their relationship go up in smoke with every damning word he’d read.

But Alexander, that lovely, amazing man, hadn’t been turned off. There had been no disgust or reprisals or biting accusations. Alec had been everything Magnus could have dreamed of and while he’d admitted more than he’d meant to in an angry rush of words meant to shock Alec as much as let him in, his boyfriend hadn’t been cowed.

No, Alec had accepted him and supported him and for that, Magnus will never stop thanking fate or whatever the fuck is responsible for bringing such a wonderful man into his life.

And after the conversation? Magnus shivers a little, though his thoughts are interrupted at the persistent reporter.

“You and Alec are together, right? I saw that Instagram post this morning and it certainly looked cozy.” His voice is smug, like he holds all the cards, and Magnus wants to wipe that smarmy smile right off his face.

He doesn’t deign to answer, though, and he’s just about to step onto campus when he spots a few paps standing several yards away. They don’t come any closer but their long-range lenses make it obvious they’re getting footage of him.

Jesus.

A little surprisingly, the journalist doesn’t try to follow him onto the grounds and Magnus is a little too relieved when he says, almost apologetically, “Columbia is private property. I’m not allowed to step onto campus or I-- and every other reporter who tries-- will be arrested for trespassing. The dean issued the warning to all local press yesterday afternoon.”

Magnus smiles a little but doesn’t say anything and he’s just passed the brick entryway when the reporter calls out.

He can’t quite help himself and Magnus turns back to look over his shoulder with a raised brow, expectant.

“I don’t know if you’re just an opportunistic bastard or if there really is something between you and Lightwood. Whatever the case, I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Lowering his camera, the man steps closer, just toeing the sidewalk between the street and campus. For a bare second his expression looks earnest as he continues, “Alec Lightwood’s my favorite artist and I hope to hell that you’re sincere. If you are, watch out. Not all reporters are as chill as me. If you’re not, don’t worry. You’ll be found out sooner or later and this business isn’t known for anything so much as it is at chewing people up and spitting them back out, more broke and lonely and bitter than before. See you around, Dr. Bane.”

With that, the journalist turns away and Magnus watches him leave for half a dozen steps before he releases a heavy sigh.

Well, shit. He doesn’t know what the hell that just was but he can respect-- barely-- any pap who seems to care about Alec at all. Magnus wonders what the world really thinks and even as he knows it’s desperate naivete, he hopes that most people are either overwhelmingly apathetic or that they genuinely hope for the best.

He makes his way to his office without delay and places his briefcase on the desk. Taking out a sheaf of papers, Magnus wonders dryly that at least he’d gotten all caught up on his grading and planning yesterday, in the uninterrupted privacy of his loft as he’d waited for Alec’s reaction.

Taking a few moments to straighten up his office from where’d left in a hurry the morning before, Magnus presses the button for his voicemail absently as he sees the blinking red announcement.

He regrets it almost immediately.

He has twenty seven missed calls, all but one from reporters. They’re by turns earnest and snide and Magnus erases one after another as soon as he hears their voice.

The one call that isn’t a pain in his ass if from his editor at the University Press. They want an update on how his revisions are going for his book and he resolves to call them back in a few hours, after he’s finished his first class.

With that decided, he grabs his folder with today’s lecture on it and makes his way down to the classroom. He has his freshmen this morning and as he walks into Lowery Hall, he wonders what the next hour and fifteen minutes have in store for him.

Entering the room with a minute to spare, it goes dead silent as soon as the students catch sight of him.

He pretends that he doesn’t notice and goes to the front of the class. Rolling up his sleeves, he’s just opened his mouth to pick up where they’d left off when a hand goes up.

“Yes?”

The kid has a high grade in the class even if he’s usually on his phone during the entirety of Magnus’s lectures.

“Is it true that you’re dating Alec Lightwood?”

Magnus sighs internally as everyone promptly looks up at the question. The kid has the good grace to look a little chagrined but he doesn’t take his question back. No, instead he stares at Magnus, a little defiance in his eyes.

Surveying the room, Magnus sees that today’s class will be woefully off track and he’s already planning how to catch them all back up as he sighs loudly and leans against the table next to the podium.

Half sitting, he wraps his hands around the edge of the table, crossing his legs at the ankle.

“Now where did you hear that,” he asks wryly and watches as the everyone rolls their eyes. Some try to be discreet but some are blatant, laughing at Magnus’s last minute attempt at deflection.

“It’s all over, Professor Bane. Magazines, the internet, it’s literally everywhere.”

Magnus might detect a hint of apology in Greg’s voice but it has nothing to do with anything so he ignores it.

Nodding slowly, Magnus lets the silence of the room draw out before he admits, “I am dating Alec, Mr. Pritchard. We’ve been together for a little while, though we were friends first.” He scans the room. “Is that all?”

Another hand goes up, this time by Julia who’s wearing one hell of a poker face. “Can you tell us how you met?”

Laughing a little, Magnus nods imperceptibly to her. She’d kept her secret and Magnus is both surprised and grateful. She hadn’t told anyone about walking in on the two of them in his office and he knows that it had to have been burning at the tip of her tongue to keep that particular secret.

Humming thoughtfully, Magnus crosses his arms over his chest and grins at the room. “I was grading everyone’s midterms at this diner across town when I ran into him.” He raises a brow. “We started talking about how difficult it must be to know France’s timeline during WWI and, as they say, the rest is history.”

A few students laugh and the mood in the room shifts from something uneasy and hesitant to warm curiosity. Magnus finds that he can’t begrudge his students their desperate desire to know. It’s apparently the hottest news in town and they have a first hand source standing right in front of them.

He answers a few more questions and thankfully none of them are too personal. They want to know how long he’s known Alec and if he’s even more handsome in person and if he can hook everyone up with tickets to his next concert or an autographed album. It’s almost pedestrian, their interest, and it settles something in Magnus to know that not everything has to change just because he’s dating Alec.

Thankfully, he resumes his lecture after another fifteen minutes or so and everyone pays the same amount of attention that they would have before his personal life blew up. The back row still does a piss poor job of concealing their snores and the front row still faithfully scribbles down every word that comes out of his mouth.

His students are still his students and that means the world to Magnus. While it would have been an adjustment, Magnus would have changed his approach to teaching if necessary-- shut down inquiries about his personal life and become a little sterner in his classroom demeanor or even shifted his focus more onto his administrative role in the department, if things had come down to that.

It’s nice to see that he can still teach and that academia is still the safe haven it’s always been for him.

The rest of class moves forward at its regular pace and Magnus waves everyone off at the conclusion of the lecture with a quick, “Remember, there’s a quiz on Thursday about the readings! And your final is rapidly approaching-- I suggest you start studying now, if you haven't already.”

No one acknowledges him and he huffs out a laugh at the predictability of sleep-deprived eighteen year olds.

Gathering up his outline, Magnus grabs his phone from his pocket and sees that his notifications bar is fit to bursting.

He’s gained several thousand followers across both Instagram and Twitter but his attention snags on a text message from Raphael that confirms their weekly lunch date at Basil’s Cafe.

Smiling, Magnus slides his phone back into his pocket and leaves the room.

He hears the whispers that follow in his wake and feels the stares of both students and faculty as they land on his back. Strangely, he doesn’t feel cornered or put on the spot. While it is overwhelmingly obvious that they’re watching him, there’s also a sense of comfort.

Magnus has been a mainstay at Columbia for years and he’s cultivated a careful reputation as an excellent professor and colleague. There’s nothing malicious in the attention, just awareness. It doesn’t set his teeth on edge and that’s all he can ask for.

Back in his office, Magnus settles down in his chair with a sigh. It’s almost noon and he picks up his phone and calls his editor.

She picks up on the third ring. “Magnus,” she greets warmly. “How are things over there?”

Her tone is noticeably oblivious and Magnus rolls his eyes. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard,” he replies dryly.

With a little laugh, Dot merely offers, “I didn’t want to make you feel worse if you were having a time over the reveal.” There’s half a beat of silence before she says, “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing great. I’m in a relationship, the press haven’t been nearly as annoying as they could have been-- at least so far-- and my book is coming along quite nicely.”

“Is that so? You’ve finished the revisions, then?”

"I have,” Magnus confirms. “The ending is still a little rough but I’m throwing all of my focus onto the last third of the book next month. I expect I’ll have a finished final draft by the end of September.”

Dot’s voice is preoccupied as she responds, “With publication set for early spring, that works nicely. Send the latest draft via courier and I’ll have a look at it sometime next week. Is there anything else that I need to be aware of?”

“No,” Magnus says, eyes narrowed as he thinks back. “Everything is going very smoothly-- much better than it usually is at this stage when everything’s a dumpster fire and I seriously consider throwing my manuscript into the ocean and never thinking about it again. I’ll send it over to your office and you can tell me what you think, though.”

The two of them talk for a little while longer about shared acquaintances and life in general before wrapping things up.

“I’m happy for you, Magnus,” Dot says softly. “I hope Lightwood is the man you deserve.”

She sighs dramatically, “If only I hadn’t taken this job at UCLA. We might have gone the distance.”

Laughing, Magnus shakes his head as he leans back in his chair. “You and I were nothing but convenience in the city and you know it, dear. We would have killed each other if we’d kept at it. We’re too alike for our own good and our careers were too important to pay attention to anything else back then.”

“You’re right, of course. That doesn’t mean that I don’t have extraordinarily fond memories of our relationship a few years ago, though.” Magnus hears a distant knock before Dot rushes out, “I’ll talk to you later, Magnus. Send me any notes that accompany your draft and I’ll look things over soon.”

“Goodbye, Dorothea.”

The two of them hang up and Magnus sighs and takes a few minutes to stare up at his nondescript ceiling.

He and Dot had been like two ships passing in the night. They’d shared the same port a time or two but it had never been anything serious-- had never had the potential for anything more than a relationship of convenience. They’d both been running around New York back then, ready to take on the world, and neither had had the time-- or wanted to carve out the time-- to seriously make a go of whatever potential simmered between them.

Their relationship had slowly fizzled as they poured almost all of their energy into their careers and when Dot had accepted a position at the University of Southern California Press, Magnus had sent her an unforgivably extravagant bottle of wine as both congratulations and a send-off. Their working relationship had never deteriorated no matter their personal affiliation and at this point, the two of them were like a well oiled machine.

Magnus spends the next hour reading a few chapters in a book he’s peer reviewing for someone at Texas A&M before gathering his things and heading towards Basil’s Cafe to meet Raphael.

Campus is a little busier now that it’s August and the fall semester is set to start in just a few short weeks. Magnus only has two more weeks of summer classes left and as always, he’s struck with just how quickly time marches forward.

So much has happened this summer that Magnus doesn’t feel like he’s caught his breath in ages. It’s invigorating, though, exhilarating. His life is a bit of a whirlwind at the moment and now, at this point in things, Magnus feels on top of the world.

His career is moving along smoothly and he’s got a man across town that he’s head over heels for and he’s weathered his own personal hell. So far, so good and Magnus just hopes that he can keep his optimism afloat through anything else that’s thrown his way.

Basil’s isn’t quite so empty this afternoon but luckily Raphael had snagged a table in the corner, a little while ago it seems, if the papers spread out across its surface is any indication.

He doesn’t look up at Magnus’s approach, but merely offers, “Final projects are a pain in my ass,” as he writes something down in bright green pen.

Sliding into the booth, Magnus replies, “I know how you feel. My students have their finals in less than two weeks but they still stare at me, as vacant as ever. And then we only have a week until the whole thing starts over again.”

“Yeah, but we love it. God knows why but we do,” Raphael mutters and then tosses his pen to the side, next to the napkin dispenser, as he finally looks up at Magnus.

His look is remarkably disinterested on the surface but Magnus can feel the intensity. Sending his friend an arch look, he remain silent and finally Raphael speaks.

“How are you doing?” His voice is gruff but Magnus detects the edge of concern.

“I’m fine,” he says lightly and as he says the words, he scans the restaurant. Several tables are staring at him out of the corner of their eye and he watches impassively as a few phones hastily drop from where they were recording him.

Raphael sees the movement too and he scowls. “No one ever minds their damned business,” he grumbles before peering at Magnus, this time not hiding his intensity.

“Are you really alright? We can go somewhere else if you’d rather.”

Still feeling the focus of half a dozen camera lenses, Magnus just shakes his head, resolute. “I fear that wherever we go, I’d cause a spectacle. We might as well stay.”

With a fierce frown, Raphael mutters a curse under his breath.

Magnus can’t help but laugh, just a little, as he relaxes against the booth. “Oh, Raphael. Who would have thought we’d end up here.”

“Anyone with half a brain cell would put that together after the way you and Lightwood have been circling each other.”

Glaring halfheartedly, Magnus absently says, “Oh, hush you. You know what I mean.”

His gaze refocuses as it lands on one of his closest friends. He grins slowly. “Say,” he drawls. “I seem to remember Alexander mentioning something about you and Simon. What’s that about?”

His voice is innocent but Raphael, of course, sees right past it.

“Shut up,” is his only response, muttered under his breath and Magnus laughs, loud and bright.

“You and Simon,” Magnus muses. His eyes run over his friend, bemused. “He’s not who I would have picked for you but I suppose that it does make a kind of sense.”

“Whatever.” Raphael rolls his eyes but before he can say anything else, their waitress comes over.

They pass a lovely, uneventful hour in the middle of campus and Magnus lets himself relax.

The waitress has just taken their plates when a serious looks comes over Raphael-- which is saying something, considering his friend always looks perpetually dead.

“Really,” Raphael asks. “How are you doing?”

Magnus frowns a little as he thinks, gaze focused on his nearly empty cup of coffee.

“You know,” he says slowly. “I’m really doing okay.”

His gaze flips up to meet Raphael’s as he continues. “Yesterday was rough,” he admits. “I didn’t expect it to hit the news and I left campus in a hurry yesterday morning. I spent the day at home licking my wounds, though Cat and Ragnor both tried to talk some sense into me.

“Alec came over last night,” he quietly confides, looking around to make sure there isn’t anyone too close to overhear. “We talked things through and, well.”

He can’t contain his little smile at the memory of last night-- and this morning. “We’re good,” he says quietly. “Really good.”

He looks up, expecting to see Raphael’s face twisted into a sneer of disgust. He’s surprised then, when his friend is studying him with a warm expression.

“I’m happy for you, Magnus. If Lightwood makes you happy-- and if you can deal with everything surrounding that-- then I support you.”

“Thank you,” Magnus says, wry twist to his mouth. “Does that mean you’ll tell me all about you and Simon?”

“Not a chance,” Raphael replies flatly and Magnus laughs, something in him easing at the easy response.

The two of them leave soon enough and Magnus has just reached the door when he’s stopped by someone calling out his name.

Looking over into the restaurant, an older woman approaches him, hair dyed an unflattering shade of blonde.

“Magnus Bane?”

“Who wants to know,” he asks warily.

Sticking out a hand, she replies, “I’m a journalist for the New York Times. I wanted to know if--”

“Not interested.”

Magnus’s voice is cold, forbidding, and he shares a look with Raphael before they both turn away from the reporter and leave the cafe without a backwards glance.

“Shit,” Magnus mutters.

“I guess that’s the price for happiness,” Raphael says cryptically and they’re silent for a moment before Magnus blows out a breath.

“I suppose you’re right, Raphael. I suppose you’re right.”

All in all, it hasn’t been as bad as it could have been and Magnus is thankful for that. Still, he wonders when the story will die down, when he and Alexander will become old news.

There’s a piece of him that wonders if his life will ever return to its previous quiet or if he hasn’t just signed away his privacy for as long as his name stays linked with Alec’s.

He and Raphael head in opposite directions and Magnus spends the afternoon responding to emails and completing the regular mundane tasks that keep his history department running smoothly, including a few interviews for an open position as an adjunct professor and a meeting with a student he’s mentoring through their doctoral thesis.

He takes a break in the late afternoon and checks his phone, relaxing as he sees a few texts from Alec.

Recorded a few songs this morning and couldn’t help but think of you. Of last night.

I miss you.

I hope you're having a good day, babe :)

I’m about to walk into a meeting with my label. Wish me luck on the next three hours of demos and complaints and questions that they should already know the answer to, considering they work at a recording company

I know you can take care of yourself but call me if you need me-- if something happens with the paps.

Smiling at Alec’s rambling messages, Magnus replies quickly.

Good luck, darling, and try not to yell at anyone

I can’t wait to hear the demos…… :)

Let me know when you land in London?

Switching over to social media, he’s a little overwhelmed at the mentions. He can’t read all of them, but he scrolls through his feed, liking a few tweets before switching over to his notifications.

He’d read some of the comments on the picture Alec had posted that morning and they’d both been surprised at the overwhelming positive response. Now that Magnus is in his own account though, the reaction is much more mixed. As he reads through a few tweets that mention him-- he and Alec are trending-- he isn’t sure how to feel.

OMG that is such a cute picture!! Alec is a lucky man!!

Look at him, you can just tell he’s just using Alec for his money. He probably can’t even name a song by him

He looks like a gold digger tbh. I hope Alec’s smart enough to get away from him before he ruins everything

I thought more of Alec. I don’t even know what he could see in this Magnus guy wtf

I’m so happy for Alec and Magnus! I thought something was going on but I can’t believe they actually confirmed it! And that caption dfkghsdkfjg I’m dead!!!

Alec does love to make a statement dkfjghsdfg just catch me crying until the end of forever at the fact that he’s officially taken:((((

Magnus actually snorts a little at that last comment. He doesn’t interact with any of them but his mind is spinning.

He’d known that there would be a lot of backlash. Magnus isn’t stupid. He knows that to fans, no one is ever good enough for their favorite celebrity and when one added Magnus’s past? It was a recipe for disaster and vitriol.

There are some comments that make him wince and others that annoy the shit out of him. Some do make him smile though, and relax at both the fans' enthusiasm and creativity.

Everyone has an opinion and everyone believes themselves entitled to air it, no matter that the person they’re talking about might see it. No, Magnus thinks that most of the people hope that he reads their nasty comments.

Well, Magnus refuses to feel bad about being with Alec, not when he makes him so happy and not when they’ve reached a new understanding.

Last night had been everything that Magnus could have wanted. Alec had been so damned understanding and so hot and Magnus doesn’t remember sex ever feeling like that.

He’d been overwhelmed in the best goddamn way. Alec had been all around him, all he could think of, and he’d been glad that there hadn’t been any awkwardness this morning.

It still feels new. Alec was like a breath of fresh air and Magnus can’t help but think that he never wants to lose this feeling. He’d had a damned good life before Alec crashed into it but Alec brings something new to it.

Magnus doesn’t quite know how but Alec’s burrowed his way into Magnus’s chest in a way he half fears is irrevocable. Permanent. Most of his to bite his lip to keep his grin under wraps, though.

Losing himself in his meandering thoughts-- all of which center on Alec and last night and this new stage of their relationship-- he startles in the late afternoon sunshine when he focuses on the clock and sees that his senior seminar is set to start in ten minutes.

Thankfully, the class is just on the first floor of Bowman and as he grabs his notes, Magnus shakes his head ruefully to himself.

Alexander was proving to be one hell of a distraction.

He makes it to class right on time and sees that everyone’s on their phones, waiting on him.

“Good evening,” he greets and receives the usual lackluster response back.

This class was composed of ten seniors set for graduation at the end of the semester. They spent the entire term crafting a sort of miniature thesis. They were each responsible for a fifty page paper due the week of finals and they’re at the point now of peer reviewing and final revisions.

Magnus sympathizes.

The next three hours go by quickly as everyone works on their own papers and edits their classmate’s and come to Magnus for any questions. At this point, with only two weeks to go, Magnus is mostly taking a background role for revisions, answering questions about citing specialized primary sources, discussing ways to conclude a twenty thousand word historiographical essay, and generally making sure none of his students set themselves on fire in their frustration and sheer stress.

To his surprise, no one mentions the headlines and his place in them. It’s no different than any of their previous sessions and for that, Magnus is exceedingly thankful.

As a student comes over to him, asking about how she can incorporate a small piece of contradictory evidence to her thesis without undoing all of her previous research, something eases in Magnus.

He’ll always have this, he thinks. His life has been academia for so long and he couldn’t imagine it any other way. This is his lifeblood. He might have found something in Alec, but he can’t even contemplate losing this-- his students and research and place in the academic world.

It’s good to know that he doesn’t have to choose.

He gets to have it all and for that, Magnus is overwhelmingly grateful.

#httbt #my writing

18 notes · View notes

shadowsblades · 5 years

Note

Dustwallow Marsh

@anonymous // world of warcraft zone asks – accepting

Dustwallow Marsh: how does your muse cope with tragedy? do they allow themselves to grieve, or are they extremely guarded?

Valeera’s has two responses to tragedy. The first is avoidance. When Quel’thalas was invaded by the Scourge and her parents were murdered, Valeera’s (eventual) solution was to run away to Kalimdor. Her solution to the pains of arcane withdrawal was to siphon more arcane, then fel (thereby delaying her suffering). And her solution to withdrawing from fel and being tormented with visions of her dead parents by the dreadlord possessing her, was suicide.

It is only when Valeera is cornered by a tragedy she cannot escape from that she faces how she feels – but not in a healthy way. Her grief manifests in violent fury. Although she was always very reactive and defensive, I think the fact that this response has not diminished can be attributed to the people Valeera predominantly interacts with.

It’s essential to realise that Valeera has not had any consistent parental figures since around the age of 10. She also has very limited positive and supportive social interaction until she met Broll and Varian when Rehgar bought her to be a gladiator. Considering that the trio were specifically chosen for their rage, I seriously doubt either Broll or Varian were modelling healthy coping strategies for Valeera to emulate, meaning that her social network is comprised completely of people who have the exact same problem she does.

Valeera is taughtover and over again to deal with her pain through violence. Rehgarencourages Broll, Varian, and Valeera to “channel that fire” into fighting inthe arena. Later, when Valeera attempts to speak with Broll about thefrustration she feels being addicted to fel, she isn’t allowed to explore or dwellon those feelings – she’s interrupted, her concerns are dismissed, and she’stold that she shouldn’t blame herself. Broll emphasises that how she deals with what happened to her “matters”. But when Valeera tries to tell Broll howscared she is of the curse that has been placed on her, she’s ignored. Then,Broll allows Valeera to join the battle with himself, Varian, and Thargasagainst the Dark Iron dwarves at Thandol Span, reasoning that it will “give hera focus beyond her own pain”.

Essentially, the message she receives is that sheneeds to deal with her pain, and that she should do this by fighting ratherthan talking.

But it gets evenworse. When her addiction to fel becomes too overwhelming for the others todeal with, Valeera is locked in a tower and left there. Although Broll andVarian have good intentions and are correct that Valeera in her currentstate would endanger their quest into Blackrock Depths, treating the real pain sheis suffering through as an inconvenience, a liability,is a terrible message to send her. Moreover, she is rewarded for dealing with her grief on her own —-– it is only whenshe professes that she’s “okay now” that she receives physical affection fromBroll.

So not only is she taught to deal with her grief through anger andviolence, but she needs to deal with it alone rather than burdening anyone elsewith it. The few other times we see Valeera grappling with her emotions, thatmessage is reinforced – Varian tells her to “dry her eyes” because they havethings to do. As a consequence of this, Valeera later downplays the sorrow shefeels as being “trivial” and tells Aegwynn “you don’t have to worry”.

It’s hard toimagine that Valeera doesn’t internalise this message or that she is able to growout of it. Once Valeera is living in Stormwind, the fact of her being a bloodelf child playing advisor, guard, and spy for the High King of the Alliance, tightlyconstrains her ability to be vulnerable with anyone, even if she was that wayinclined. Varian is still her only friend, but given that he isn’t even the bestfather to Anduin, I doubt he was readily available to talk to Valeera about herfeelings, especially when she isn’t forthcoming about them. If anything, the political culture in Stormwind probably cultivated in her the belief that emotions like grief are weak andexploitable, encouraging her to hide how she really feels at all times.

As a blood elf, Valeera also extremely prideful and the years she spent surviving in Quel’thalas on her own made her self-reliant and thus unlikely to ask anyone for help. It wounds her pride to be viewed as weak or vulnerable or in need of aid. She survived for a very long time on her own, and at a very young age, so it is inconceivable to her that she wouldn’t continue to do so.

In World of Warcraft, wedon’t see enough of Valeera to know whether she has learned to regulate her emotionsbetter. As well, no new tragedy befalls her —— until Varian is killed at theBroken Shore. We don’t get any insight into Valeera’s reaction to this, but Idon’t imagine she actually talked toanyone about it. She would have been there for Anduin to comfort him, but considering that (1) he’s justlost his father, (2) he’s just become the High King of the Alliance, and (3) Valeerahas known him since he was a child and hence isn’t accustomed to speaking tohim like that, I seriously doubt she would have unloaded anything on Anduin. Brollmight have returned to Stormwind for the funeral, but apart from him (andexcept in my stuff with @lightsblade) there isn’t anyone else for Valeera todiscuss her feelings with. I imagine she’s furious at Sylvanas, and that she also blamesherself for not going to the Broken Shore with Shaw.

To the best of myknowledge, Valeera wasn’t involved in any of the big events in Azeroth untilLegion, and I think it’s tellingthat it is only after Varian’s death that she does get involved by joining the Uncrowned against the BurningLegion —— and it’s certainly no coincidence that the form of herinvolvement is to investigate why theAlliance didn’t receive accurate intel regarding the size of the Burning Legion’sforces, and no coincidence that she fights demons herself. She is coping with tragedythe only way she knows how ——- achieving retribution while physicallyattacking the cause.

tl;dr: Valeera avoids grieving if possible, and responds with anger and violence if she’s forced to confront her feelings. She is very unlikely to share her pain with anyone or even reveal that she’s hurting.

#lightsblade #❛ the demon is writhing within me; fighting to emerge. ❜ ❪ headcanon ❫#tw suicide #.............can you tell I've been wanting to write about how Valeera deals with emotion for a while?#long story short is that Valeera has never coped healthily with anything in her life #and she isn't about to start now

1 note · View note

amayapowell · 6 years

Text

The Truth Comes Out

This is a short fic of how the news of Chris and Amaya’s engagement gets out.

By the way...Sorry for kind of presenting their story backward. But there are a couple of prequels in the works that explain the backstory behind Chris and Amaya’s breakup, what brings them back together, Chris’ proposal and a few other details of their journey. Plus a few looks into the future. :)

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

You're sitting at the kitchen counter of Chris’ Seattle apartment with your laptop open and a half-empty bottle of Rosè, nervously eyeing the time as you pour yourself another glass.

“Baby I really think you’re stressing for nothing. She’ll be reasonable. It’ll be fine.”

Glass in hand, you swivel your body around on the bar stool to face your ever confident financè, watching Sports Center without a care in the world. “You’re not helping. Have you met Kaitlyn Liao? Reasonable isn’t exactly her middle name.”

“She should be happy for us. She and Zack have been more than vocal about us getting back together.” He walks over giving you air quotes before resting his hands on your shoulders and kissing your forehead.

You throw your head back staring into his hopeful, steadying blue eyes with the saddest puppy dog pout you can muster. “Can’t we just elope and tell everyone in their Christmas cards this year? Surprise, we’re married, Merry Christmas! Sounds good right?” You ask followed by an extra wide-eyed over-exaggerated smile and jazz hands. He follows with a deep, hearty laugh when Skype’s signature tune pings through your speakers and Kaitlyn name and picture pop up on the screen.

“Now you and I both know that would never fly. Besides, too late now. I’ll be right here if you need me. Go get um’ slugger.” He leans over your face giving you one last loving kiss of encouragement before clicking the answer button and circling the island to start dinner.

“Thanks…traitor.”

You catch a glimpse of a wink before your eyes return to the screen.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m late; I know. The train was delayed and uh…it’s just been a shitty day. So what’s up, where are you? I thought you were supposed to be back last week?”

“Yeah, I had a few more things to take care of.”

“Oh well, you need to get back like yesterday. I cannot deal with that creep in Bikram without you. He still looks at me while in downward dog, uh gross. What’s wrong, why are you so quiet?” Kaitlyn’s walking around her kitchen doing everything but paying attention.

“Kait can you sit down for a second, I have to tell you something.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just gonna grab some dinner real quick, I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” She pauses looking off into space before opening the refrigerator. “I think. Go ahead though, I’m listening?”

“I’ll wait. This is more of a face to screen conversation.” She pokes her head out from around the refrigerator door.

“This isn’t the ‘I’m dying’ speech is it?”

“No Kaitlyn, I’m not dying.”

She finally settles down in front of the screen with a plethora of random snacks. “Just making sure, because I do not have time to write your roast.”

“I’m glad my lack of death fits your schedule. And it’s a eulogy.”

“Not mine. So what’s this big face to screen conversation then?”

“I’ve sort of been seeing someone.”

“Nice! It’s about time you cleared up that cobweb situation down there.” Chris chuckles in the background.

“Is that the big conversation? Wait…it’s not Asher is it?” Chris’ head jerks around from his dinner preparations seemingly shocked by the stranger’s name. He silently mouths the name back to you, as you simply roll your eyes and wave off his incoming questions.

“No, it’s not Asher.”

“Oh thank God!” I still don’t know what the hell Audrey was thinking with that one.” She says while taking a large bite of her pudding.

“Hold on though, Kait that’s not all I have to tell you.”

She pauses, mouth full. “You’re not pregnant are you.”

You let your head fall with a deep sigh. Frustrated at the slowness of the conversation you just blurt it out. “No, I’m not pregnant either. Kaitlyn, I’m getting married.” You hold up your left hand to the screen to show her your vintage pale pink Sapphire engagement ring.

Kaitlyn’s face scrunches in confusion. “Married!?! What the fuck Amaya? I’m just hearing that you’ve been seeing someone and now your all of a sudden getting married? How long have you been seeing this guy? How long have you even known him?”

The guilt is written all over your face as your eyes scan over the room attempting not to make eye contact.

“Technically, we’ve been seeing each other again now for…two…years.” Your voice gradually fades out into a whisper.

“I’m sorry, two years!? What the actual fuck? How am I just now hearing about this? And what do you mean again?” You open your mouth to respond, but Kaitlyn cuts you off again before you can even attempt to answer one of her rapid-fire incoming questions.

“Wait where are you? Who’s stuff is that in the background?”

“Well, that’s the other thing I have to tell you.” Still and silent you can’t make out her expressionless face as she waits for the next bomb to drop. “I’m in Seattle and am moving here.”

“Amaya you better be fucking joking because I do not understand anything you’re saying right now. You’ve been seeing someone for two years, your getting married and now moving across Country. Why Seattle and who the hell is this guy that you are marrying and moving to Seattle for?!”

Kaitlyn was so flustered by the bombardment of admissions that she didn’t put two and two together. By now her tone increased into a shout and you know that there’s really no more talking. Chris has temporarily stopped his preparations and is now leaning up against the stove, arms crossed, listening and offering his silent support. With Kaitlyn still shouting off questions, you look up from the screen and give him a nod to come and make himself known. He walks around behind you leaning down to be in view of the camera, slips his arms around your waist, kisses your cheek and rests his chin on your shoulder. Flashing that signature Powell smile.

“Hey, Kaitlyn.”

She doesn’t respond and simply stares blankly back at the screen.

“We wanted to tell you. We wanted to tell everyone, but it was just easier this way. Figuring out a long distance thing was hard enough, without all the questions. And if it makes you feel any better –“

“You bitch! How the hell could you keep this from me? We live three blocks away from each other.” Chris attempts to interject on your behalf.

“Kait, nothing was really official until after Abbie and Tyler’s wedding. We didn’t plan this. Yes, we made it a point to see each other on a semi-regular basis over the last few years. But the whole moving and proposing just happened. Well, actually I’d been planning to propose for a while now. But the moving thing is new.”

Your stare is a clear indication for him to stop talking.

“Shut up Chris! Who else knew?”

“No one! You were the first we told.” Placing a hand on Chris’ chest, you look back at him remembering the awkward interaction in your hotel room, realizing that wasn’t exactly true.

“Ummm...actually Becca knows. But that was an accident! “

“Becca! Fucking Becca?! You told Becca before you told me?!”

“We did not willingly tell Becca about us!” You delicately try to explain the situation. “She…walked into my room in San Francisco during the wedding weekend, without knocking and (sigh) just…sort of...found out.”

“Bullshit! Don’t lie to me. Nobody just walks into someone’s room and sits down and says ‘Hello, would you please tell me the details of your sorted love story’.”

“Since when does Becca do anything she’s supposed to do? Listen Kait, she walked in, she caught us, we had to tell her. End of story. Wait...caught is the wrong word. It was more of a blackmail situation anyway if I’m being honest, but I promise it is not what you think-“

Suddenly the screen goes black and the words ‘call ended’ flash before you.

By this time, you’ve abandoned all thoughts of the glass and raise the bottle directly to your lips.

“So much for reasonable? She hates me.”

Chris pulls you into his chest and leans back to gaze deep into your eyes. “Who could ever hate you? Don’t worry. She’ll cool off.”

He takes the bottle out of your hand just as you bring it to your lips again. He puts it on the counter, cups your face and kisses you slowly and deeply. “Come on. Let’s go tell the rest of the world. We’re bound to get at least one happy reaction.”

“Well, we won’t need to bother with Zack. I’m pretty sure we’ll be getting a call from him here shortly.”

“Okay. Should we call Asher first then?”

#Chris x Amaya #Chris Powell #The Freshman #The Sophomore #The Junior #The Senior #Chris x MC

17 notes · View notes

blow-up-reactions · 6 years

Text

How Would EXO React To Their S/O Having A Quick Temper

anon said: Hi! Can I request a Got7/Exo reaction to their gf having a quick temper? If requests aren’t open then please ignore this 😫💙. I love reading your reactions and scenarios, keep up the good work you fantastic beings 💙❤️💙❤️💙

Xiumin/Minseok:

“Minseok!” you yelled as you put down your bag. You had just come home from work and now you saw a pile of dirty dishes in the sink. The same pile you saw this morning, that Minseok promised to clean during the day, as he had the day off from work. He walked into the kitchen, “Hi babe,” he said with a smile. “Don’t babe me, why didn’t you clean the dishes?” you asked, and Minseok looked confused for a while before realization washed over his face, “ah sorry about that, I knew I forgot something. I’ll just do them now.” he said and started. You huffed and put down your stuff before going into your living room. After Minseok finished he sat beside you on the couch. “Are you mad?” he asked, and when you didn’t respond he threw his arms around you. “you’re so freaking cute when your temper comes out. I’m sorry I forgot,” he said and did a little aegyo. You smiled, “I can’t stay mad at you.”

“I’m sorry~~”

Suho/Junmyeon:

“This shitty, fucking car.” You growled as you turned the key again in hopes of it turning on. Your 12th attempt failed as well. “I’ll fucking burn this piece of junk!” You yelled and hammered your fist against the steering wheel. You pulled out your phone and called Junmyeon. “My car won’t start, can you please come and get me?” You asked and tried not to sound too pissed through the phone, “of course, I’m on my way. “ he said and hung up. You walked back into your apartment to wait for your boyfriend. Just as you entered accidentally pushed the coffee you had drunk this morning off the kitchen counter. The cup smashed and you could feel your cheeks heating up in anger. You threw your phone towards the couch as you’ve done many times before, but you were a bit mad so it affected your aim and it hit the floor. You examined it and saw a small crack. When Junmyeon arrived he could see you looked pissed, “tough morning?” he asked, and you simply nodded, “you’re cute, you know that?” he asked and you turned towards him while giving him a small smile.

”You’re kinda cute when you’re pissed.”

Lay/Yixing:

You and Yixing were returning home from an amazing holiday to Spain. You’ve had a great time, but now you just wanted to go home. You got to the airport, at 4.30 AM, which had made the both of you a little cranky. You got some food and some coffee as you waited for your flight. The food had been horrible and now you were just drinking the coffee only because you needed caffeine. A lot of things build up, the flight was delayed, you sat almost right beside a baby who cried loudly, and an arguing couple right in front of you, who was basically yelling at each other. Yixing could see you getting more and more annoyed, and he took your hand and tried to calm you. But then, someone recognized Yixing and started fangirling hard. Yixing was polite and took a picture with her, but she just wouldn’t go away. It was just all too much for you so you just kinda snapped, “Um excuse me, we’ve already had a pretty shitty flight and we’ve only been in the air for like 15 minutes, could you please return to your seat? we really want some peace and quiet, we’ve been up a 3 AM, so please, scram” You said and plugged in your earphones before she could answer. She hurried away, and Yixing chuckled. “What?” you said with a smile, “you’re too nice to them,” you said, as he kissed you on your forehead.

”Maybe be a bit more polite next time, even though it was nice that she left.”

Baekhyun:

You were making yourself a cup of nice hot tea. It was really cold outside, and you had spent the most of your day outside, in the snow. It was nice to just sit on the couch and watch a movie with Baekhyun. The water finished boiling and you poured the tea into your cup. You waited a few minutes before removing the tea bag and walked into the living room. As you turned the corner into the living room, Baekhyun jumped out and scared you. You screamed and dropped the boiling tea, only a few drops hit your leg, and nothing hit Baekhyun. You glared at him, “What are you doing!?” You yelled at him, “I’m sorry,“ he said laughing, “I thought you were in the bathroom. “ “It’s not funny Baekhyun!” You yelled as you turned around and walked towards the front door, “you’re so childish” you screamed as you walked into the cold and slammed the door behind you. You sat on the stairs in front of the apartment, cursing Baekhyun in your head, as the door opened again, and Baekhyun came out with a cup of tea. “I’m sorry,” he said and handed you the tea, “no, I’m sorry,” you said, “I overreacted,” He smiled carefully, “Yeah you did,” you both chuckled and you playfully pushed him. “idiot,” you mumbled and kissed him.

”Wow, that was scary,”

Chen/Jongdae:

You and Jongdae were walking hand in hand down the street, with your new puppy on a leash. The little corgi jumped around, still a bit confused with the whole leash concept. “Babe, could you maybe run in a buy some milk and some dog food?” you asked Jongdae as you passed a supermarket. “sure,” he said and walked into the store, while you waited outside with the puppy. You suddenly heard a voice, “hey babe! You look great in that short skirt!” Followed by some men laughing, and even one whistling. You roll your eyes and look down on your skirt, it reached to right above the knees, it wasn’t even that short. “Come on, baby girl you’re just going to ignore me?” The voice sounded again, but much closer. You felt the anger in your chest, as you made a bit of small talk with your dog. Then you suddenly felt someone touch your ass, and you shot up and turned around faster than the guy could react. You lifted your leg and kicked him, right between his legs. He groaned and leaned forward, “What the fuck? Who the fuck does that? Your such an animal! Not only catcalling which is extremely uncomfortable by the way, but also groping?? That’s sexual assault!” You yelled, but before you could continue Jongdae but his arms around your shoulder and slowly led you away, from the group of guys. “I’m impressed, you’re so feisty,” Jongdae said, and you chuckled, “I couldn’t let them do that, especially in front of the child,” you said and gestured to the dog, which made you both laugh.

”I am glad I’m not on the receiving end of that one, remind me never to piss you off,”

Chanyeol:

You and Chanyeol were playing a game on Chanyeol’s PlayStation 4. It had been months since the two of you had played together, as he had been on tour. You and Chanyeol often played competitive games, and in the beginning, he had let you win all the time. But after you hit the one-year mark you had told him that you would like him not to hold back. Ever since you had not won a single game. You had now practiced a lot while he had been gone. Besides, you had your friend Jimin from bts come over and coach you. You were ready. You and Chanyeol played the game in silence, as you were both very focused. It was a close run and you were both even. You thought this is the game you were gonna win. Then you made one mistake. One crucial mistake and Chanyeol took the victory once again. The anger washed over you all at once and before you could think your body reacted, and you threw your controller across the room and right into the TV screen. The screen shattered and there was a moment of silence were you and Chanyeol starred at each other in shock. Then the two of you burst out laughing. “I’ll pay for that,” you said as you carefully picked up the broken controller. The controller then broke in half and a piece fell to the floor which threw the two of you into a new laughing fit.

”I won’t dare to ever beat you in a game again.”

D.O./Kyungsoo:

You had it all prepared. You were going to surprise Kyungsoo with a date night. He had been working hard lately, and you had barely gotten the chance to spend time together. He thought you were working tonight but you had spent all day prepared for date night. You had deep cleaned the house, cooked all day and had talked to the other members about getting Kyungsoo back in time for dinner. You had made a soup and as you were carrying the soup into the dinner table the handle snapped off the pot and you poured hot soup all over yourself. You bit your lip hard to stop yourself from screaming before running to the bathroom and stepping under the cold shower. You knew the makeup ran down your face, and your hair getting wet. You heard the front door open, “Y/N?” Kyungsoo called “I’m up here,” you answered. As soon as his head peeped through the door, you started crying. It was angry tears. You were so pissed at yourself for being so stupid and clumsy. You told Kyungsoo what happened, and you could practically feel your cheeks get red with anger. He laughed lightly, “aww babe,” he said and stepped into the shower with you, also fully clothed, and hugged you.

“This would have been an amazing night, but it’s still amazing if we just cuddle on the couch.”

Kai/Jongin:

“you can’t seriously be mad at me,” Jongin said with a hesitant laugh. You didn’t respond but instead turned up for the music you made Jongin believe you were listening to on your headphones. “Babe, you’re adorable you know that?” Jongin said which made you huff lightly, getting more and more annoyed the less he took you seriously. “Come on, it’s really nothing to start a fight over, babe,” he said and laid himself on top of you on the couch. “Stop it,” you said angrily and tried to push him away. Which made him laugh, “it’s not funny Jongin!” You yelled as you stared at him with accusing eyes. He stopped laughing with great difficulty. “Okay,” he said, “ I am so sorry,” he said with the best serious face he could muster. “You think you can just apologize and everything is forgiven?” you asked, “yes?” he said carefully “I can’t believe you,” you said and marched into your shared bedroom. About 30 minutes later the door opened, and Jongin sat beside you on the bed, and you took off your headphones, “Y/N,” Jongin began, “I am truly sorry I ate your cookies,” he said and handed you three packets of your favorite cookies. You opened a packet and ate one, “you are forgiven,” you said as you stuffed one in his mouth.

“I will seriously never do it again, I promise.”

Sehun:

You had the day off so you were with Exo on a music show. You and Sehun had just made up after a huge fight. You had been mad at him for flirting with everyone on screen. Like MCs, hosts, and co-stars. It was even worse since your relationship was public and people kept asking if you were okay with him flirting so obviously. You had snapped at him and you hadn’t talked for a few days before he apologized. You were in the front rows of the music shows, watching your boyfriend and 7 of your best friends perform Ko Ko Bop. You knew all the cheers and screamed like the many fangirls beside you. The performance ended and you slowly made your way out of the crowd. When you finally got backstage, you saw Sehun laughing with his makeup artist. He really made her laugh, and you were too far away to hear what they talked about but they looked way too happy to just be acquaintances. You felt the anger bubble in your chest as you turned around and simply left. You got a call from him a few hours later, “where did you go, Y/N?” he asked, “Oh, I didn’t want to disturb you and your makeup artist, you seemed like you were hitting it off,” Sehun chuckled lightly, “Y/N, don’t you recognize her? It’s my cousin.” You were quiet for a moment, as you thought back and realized that she did look pretty familiar. You both started laughing, “could you please come over?” you asked, “I’m on my way,” Sehun answered.

“This girl...”

Yeah they turned out pretty damn long. I hope you enjoy them! You sound so sweet in your message! ^^ I may have to wait a bit before writing for Got7, as my brain is pretty milked from these scenarios, and I need a week or two to come up with 7 more.

Also, we’ve only got 2 request left! So don’t hold back! :)

-Admin Satansoo

74 notes · View notes

ohmytheon · 6 years

Text

Karma in Retrograde (15)

title: Karma in Retrograde

summary: When Dabi is hit by a de-aging quirk, he’s turned back to a 16 year-old U.A. Gen Studies student with self-esteem and parent issues, a destructive quirk, and no memory of the last five years. To help the Dabi of the past, present, and future, he is placed with Class 1-A. There, they must all face the question of whether he can change or if his destiny is already set in stone.

– Chapter 15: Ryouta gets a new wardrobe thanks to Aizawa that causes various reactions and gets beat up by Mina. Sort of.

Lanni notes: One of my favorite things about Ryouta is that he's both somehow hyper-aware about some things and also completely oblivious to others. Also, his budding friendships with the others mean the world to me. He's got a different one with everyone and they're all changing. This is definitely a more slice of life chapter after the heaviness of the one before. A little lightness in this emotional rollercoaster. I was rolling while reading some of the parts that Misty wrote. This was freaking fun to write. The song for this chapter is an English rendition of Hey Kids!

Tonight they'll don their masks, the kids that tear it down. And all these scheming lies will soon evoke the end. Turn up the temperature, Entice that golden taste. Give it some flavor, flavor, flavor. Just wanna hold your hand.

After they returned to the dorms, Ryouta immediately excused himself to the relatively safe confines of his room. Shouto tried to appear impassive, but he got the feeling that his brother wanted more of an explanation. They’d thought he was dead. Had it been just the lack of contact? Had he started to give off behavior that suggested he might do something to himself? Those horrific scars and staples flashed in his mind. He had done something to himself. They wouldn’t have been far off to think that.

Finally alone in his room, Ryouta couldn’t help but feel a little, treacherously, relieved. Reuniting with Fuyumi hadn’t gone terribly. It looked like she wasn’t angry at him, didn’t even blame him for the things that she really should. (How like her.) That was more than he had dared to hope for. Something like that seemed like it should have made the overall situation easier to handle. Yet when he thought about sitting down to have a long, proper talk with his twin, the lump in his throat remained. Hurried goodbyes with her promising to return were emotional in their own bittersweet way, but they were nothing compared to the prospect of climbing the metaphorical mountain that was communication.

Perhaps it was cowardly of him to delay the inevitable so readily. He was fine with that. The day had been overwhelming as it was. He wouldn’t say it - he didn’t want them to think he was too emotionally fragile to handle it or was going to back out (as if he could) because he had hit some sort of invisible limit - but it had been a lot of talking. Genuine discussion. Everything seemed to pass by in a tired haze for the rest of the day, his mind still trying to process what had just happened. It was fortunate that nothing important happened, because even if a hurricane full of sharks spontaneously hit the school, he couldn’t guarantee that he would have been able to pay attention.

Aside from himself and Shouto making an attempt to talk about what had happened, floundering, giving up, and changing the subject and a few more taunts from Bakugou that had him considering just buying a hat and getting it over with, nothing truly significant happened the next day either. That suspicious calm was brought to a screeching halt when he was called to see Aizawa the next morning.

Ryouta approached Aizawa’s office with a nervous feeling in his gut. He tried to remember what he had done over the past several days, sibling stuff aside, in an effort to figure out if he had done something wrong. Not that it mattered if he found anything or not. His entire existence was wrong. Arguing with Bakugou and failing to complete all of his work with Iida at once, while bad, paled in face of the fact that, at the end of the day, he was a villain. The staff of U.A. didn’t need any further reason to get rid of him. Wracking his mind trying to think of something that may have pushed them over the edge was merely self-inflicted torture.

He felt the urge to delay upon Aizawa’s door entering his line of sight and immediately squashed it. Whatever lay ahead of him, he would face it head-on and accept it with as much grace as he could muster. It was the bare minimum. Rather than slow down, he increased his pace. A few seconds later, he announced his arrival with a single sharp rap of his knuckles against the wooden door.

“Come in,” Aizawa called. His voice gave nothing away. Ryouta tried not to read into it.

It felt like the doorknob should have given some hint as to the nature of the meeting. Instead, Ryouta wrapped his hand around the cold, meaningless steel, the same as always. He opened the door with a quick twist and stepped inside the room. The motion was made less fluid than it could have been by his proceeding to hover by the door. “Sir. You wanted to see me?” It felt like a stupid question to ask, yet he couldn’t think of anything better.

Aizawa nodded. He began to move as if looking around the room for something, only to pause, his gaze catching on Ryouta’s face. It was a struggle not to fidget under that scrutinizing gaze, made even worse by the teacher’s absurdly strong poker face. He tried to search his expression for signs of disappointment or anger and came up with nothing. After a few heavy seconds, that was finally changed by the slightest of downturns to the teacher’s lips. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

Ryouta shrugged. “Is it?” He tried to keep his voice steady - not too uncaring, not angry, frightened, or amused, and certainly not impudent. This time, he wasn’t trying to be sarcastic, but asking a genuine question. That didn’t mean that he wanted to sound desperate either.

That incalculable stare lingered for a few more seconds before Aizawa answered. “No, you’ve been doing well.”

The relief that came washing over him was almost strong enough to be tangible. It was accompanied by the sense of something warm buzzing in his chest. He was reluctant to call it pride, as not fucking things up (more than they already were) was a truly pathetic thing to be proud over, but he wasn’t displeased. More importantly, Aizawa wasn’t displeased. He said that he had been doing well, even with the incidents with Bakugou and Endeavor and the lesson and the general soul-crushing awkwardness. That was…good.

“Oh.” Although it was better than it had been a moment ago, Ryouta’s posture remained tense despite the good news. He forced himself to relax some more before walking across the room to sit in the chair in front of Aizawa’s desk. Hopefully, the action didn’t look as difficult as it felt. “What is it then?” He tried to ignore how much shorter he felt than the homeroom teacher sitting across from him.

A gaze as blank as Aizawa’s had no right to feel like it was staring into his soul. Yet, when the homeroom teacher opted to watch him for a moment longer before responding, he couldn’t shake the uncomfortable notion that it was doing exactly that. “You don’t have any clothes.” Immediately, impulsively, Ryouta glanced down at his dress shirt, which prompted Aizawa to add, “Of your own.” He did not look back up. Suddenly, that unreadable state didn’t sound so bad.

Ryouta tried to force down the embarrassment threatening to overtake him. Circumstances meant that he didn’t own anything of his own, but at least he could take some comfort in knowing that he hadn’t been asking for charity. Sure, it was stupid of him not to immediately realize what Aizawa was talking about, but it was too late for him to do anything about that. “Ah.” He slowly rolled his eyes upward and forced his gaze to drift back over to Aizawa, prompting him to continue the conversation like a normal, functional person who understood that there was no point in dwelling on minor slip-ups.

Rather than continue speaking, Aizawa reached under the desk. He retrieved a large plastic and unceremoniously plopped it between them. “You already have your uniform, but you need casual clothes. Tell me if I got the wrong size or there are any other problems.” With that, he gestured for him to take the bag.

It took a moment for Ryouta to spur himself into action. He stared at the bag and took care not to open his mouth until he knew what he was going to say. “Th-Thank you,” he eventually managed. That was a mistake. He snapped his jaw shut the moment he caught the stammer, his eyes briefly widening in a moment of raw mortification. Don’t get weird, he told himself. Be grateful, but don’t make him think you’ll expect more. “You didn’t-”

Aizawa cut him off with a dismissive snort. “Someone had to.” His tone came off as factual rather than accusational or pitying. Ryouta let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The hero gestured to the bag a second time. “Now, get going.”

“Right.” He reached out to take the bag, however, just as he began to lift it up by the plastic handles, he hesitated. “Thank you,” he repeated. This time, there was no stammer. The entirely unwarranted bubble of pride that threatened to well up over that was combated by his lingering shame over it having happened in the first place. Ryouta wisely opted not to tempt fate any further, finished removing the bag from the desk, and hastily returned to his room to inspect its bounty.

Besides being colors that he didn’t typically opt for, they looked like the right size and, more importantly, they looked comfortable. Ryouta had never taken fashion very seriously. As long as they fit him and he didn’t waste time pulling at them, clothes were clothes. He spent most of his time at U.A. in his uniforms. At home, shorts and a t-shirt was the best option. A lot of his clothing ended up burned or destroyed anyways, especially when he was forced into training with his father. He’d owned a few casual outfits, but nothing special. These would do.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he glanced at the clock and turned back to the bag of clothes. As soon as the time registered in his head, he snapped back to look again and swore, “Oh shit!” as he jumped to his feet. He’d gotten so distracted by his original panic over being called to Aizawa’s office and then the relief at not being in trouble that he’d completely forgotten that he was supposed to meet Uraraka and Midoriya at Gamma Gym. The speed in which he changed into his athletic uniform and shoved a change of clothes in the bag Yaoyorozu created for him would have impressed Iida.

Ryouta would confess to not being very strong and only fast in short bursts, having learned early on that dodging was easier than attacking, but he could run for long distances. He’d figured that out the hard way when his father had started his endurance training. By the time he made it to the gym, he was a little out of breath, bursting through the doors with, “Sorry I’m late!” before doubling over with his hands on his knees.

When he lifted his head, instead of being greeted by Midoriya and Uraraka, it was Mina and Uraraka who were currently stretching.

“Hey!” Mina called out, waving a hand. “We were wondering if you chickened out.”

“Uh, no, I just got distracted.”

Mina smiled. “I’m just teasing.”

Uraraka pulled herself to her feet and stretched her back one last time. “I hope you don’t mind that Mina joined us today. Deku had something come up.” She fist pumped Mina and the two girls laughed, the sign of an inside joke. Ryouta had never had one of those with any of his classmates. He’d had a few with Natsuo. In a way, now he was the inside joke of Class 1-A. “She knows how to kick more butt than Deku anyways.”

“No, yeah, that’s cool,” Ryouta quickly replied. “Cool, cool, cool.”

Setting his bag down next to theirs, he stretched and kept his attention elsewhere as the two girls talked. After learning more about hand-to-hand combat in the hero class, Ryouta had been forced to admit that he sucked at it. Aizawa had warned them that they needed to practice outside of class, but he also knew that he needed help. Since he’d been partnered with her in class and she was nice in a way that didn’t feel fake, Uraraka had been his safest bet. Midoriya had been with her at the time and had eagerly offered to help as well. Apparently, both of them had once been terrible at fighting.

Once he was done, Uraraka explained a few drills that she’d learned while interning with Gunhead. They were simple, but more interesting than Ryouta had expected. Endeavor had never focused on physical fighting during his training. It was all about strengthening and controlling his quirk. Ryouta’s quirk had to be stronger, faster, last longer, more focused. Everything else came second. It left him relying on his quirk more than anything else and put him at a disadvantage when he couldn’t even control the damn thing fully.

“I’ve learned more since then thanks to Kirishima and Mina,” Uraraka finished, “but I figured we could just start here and go from there.”

“And you’re sure this isn’t a waste of your time?” Ryouta asked again.

“Oh, it’s no problem!” Uraraka reassured him. “It’s good to review the basics every now and then to make sure my form is still good.”

Mina nudged her in the side. “Plus, she feels bad about kicking your ass so thoroughly in front of everyone.”

Ryouta shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not her fault that I never really learned how to fight.”

That seemed to catch their interest. He tried to smother a flicker of irritation. Throwing any sort of hints about what it was like for him growing up was a quick way to get questions that he had no intention of answering. He’d already let far too much slip when he’d been so tight-lipped before. Shouto must have been equally vague about his past or completely silent on the subject.

Everyone couldn’t help but wonder how the household of the then-number-two hero could produce an up-and-coming hero and a villain.

“Come to think of it,” Uraraka said slowly, “Todoroki relies mostly on his quirk too.”

“Who needs to fight when you’ve got all that power?” Ryouta lifted his hands, palms up, and gazed down at them. He didn’t call up his flames like he wanted to out of concern that it might make them uneasy. It was easy enough to picture them though. When he dropped his hands and looked back to them, their eyes flickered up to his and he knew that they’d been thinking about his quirk as well. He coughed. “You two ready to show me the ropes?”

Uraraka formed her hands into fists and gave him a confident smile. “We could do some drills and work on your form and then see how you use them against an opponent. Drills aren’t worth anything if you forget all of it once you’re in a fight.”

“Better give it your all,” Mina told him as she punched the air playfully. “I won’t go easy on you.”

Well, this was going to be interesting. He was taller than both girls but had no doubts that they could take him on. He had to be stronger - he’d started to gain actual muscle when he was thirteen - but they were better at this than him. The idea of a fist fight was so beyond him that he’d never thought to practice hand-to-hand combat until that class. He didn’t have a quirk meant for punching. That said, it was starting to occur to him that there were ways to use his quirk that he’d never considered before either.

Learning the drills themselves wasn’t that difficult. Ryouta worked on his stance, which would ground him better and keep him from getting tossed around as easily. Next, he practiced different kinds of punches before adding on dodging until it built into something along the lines of a violent dance move. They went at it like that for a while, working up a sweat. It wasn’t that difficult for him to do, as his temperature ran hot due to the nature of his quirk, but even the girls got really into it.

At first, when he’d realized that it was Uraraka and Mina, he had worried that he’d be too self-conscious. However, they were so laser-focused on what they were doing that he fell into it as well. It reminded him of when he and Fuyumi would get sucked into a book and lose hours together. Before he knew it, nearly an hour had passed and he knew a lot more than he had when they started. It wasn’t a lot, seeing as how he couldn’t learn everything there was about fighting in an hour, but it was a start. Aizawa would at least be able to see that he had put in the extra effort to catch up.

“Do you think you’re ready to put what you’ve learned so far into practice?” Uraraka asked.

Ryouta wiped the sweat off his face as best as he could and glanced over at Mina, who was lightly bouncing on the balls of her feet, like she wasn’t tired at all. He was definitely feeling the burn of his muscles and the first hints of being worn out. Still, he knew that he could last a long time. The kids in the hero course had endurance that would put most of the world to shame, but he’d learned to run on fumes years ago. He could burn and burn until there was nothing left in the tank and still keep on pushing.

“Sure,” he finally responded. He took a swig from his water bottle and tossed it back into his bag before languidly getting into a stance. Staring back at Mina, every inch of his body was screaming to tense up, but he kept himself relaxed, conserving his energy. If he lasted longer than five seconds, he’d be happy. Uraraka had done her best to teach him a few moves, but it would be different using them against an opponent that was actively fighting back and moving fast.

Despite the fact that she was about to kick his ass (or perhaps because of it), Mina wore quite a cheerful expression. She moved first, rushing forward and reaching to snatch him by the wrist. Fuck, she was quick. Ryouta fell back into his usual routine of dodging out of habit, sliding out of her reach. He slammed his right foot down behind him to strengthen his footing and then swung a left hook. She dodged it by twisting to the side, his fist sailing past her head uselessly, and then landed a precise hit in his side that forced him to stumble back.

“Gotcha!” Mina laughed.

“You left yourself wide open when you tried to attack,” Uraraka pointed out

Doubled over with a hand on his side, Ryouta managed to say, “I noticed.” When he stood up straight, his ribs stung, but it wasn’t terrible. He had a feeling that Mina hadn’t hit him as hard as she could even though she had said that she wouldn’t go easy on him. He would’ve really been bruised if she had. Still, despite being hit, he wasn’t mad or upset. In fact, as adrenaline seeped into his veins, he felt kind of, well, excited. Neither one of them were acting afraid of him and were actively encouraging him.

This time, Ryouta moved to attack first. Mina easily dodged his first attempt to hit her and then blocked his next attack. When she attacked, he blocked the first punch, but then caught her second with his hand, just as he’d done with Bakugou. It was a hard punch, but compared to a punch powered by an explosion, it only stung a little. He hooked a foot behind her ankle and shoved hard, tripping her and knocking her off balance. The thought that he didn’t want to actually hit her flashed in his mind, but then that was the whole point what they were doing here. She’d taken harder hits than he could manage with his fist alone.

Before he could follow through with a takedown, Mina used her momentum to do a backflip, using one hand on the ground to spring back onto her feet. The move was so graceful that Ryouta could’ve almost believed that it had been planned from the start. He inadvertently paused to gawk for a few seconds. There was no way in hell that he could manage a flip at this point. The mere idea of gymnastics made his mind attempt to jump through hoops.

She didn’t give him any time to recover from his shock, getting in a quick jab against his chest. When she went to hit him again, he snatched her by the wrist and pulled on her hard so that he could get her in a semblance of a hold, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He was stronger than her, judging from the way she jerked against his grip. His brief moment of pride was cut off when she hooked her foot around his ankle and kicked out, knocking his feet out from underneath him. Both of them fell backward and he hit the ground hard with her landing on top of him. It knocked the air out of his lungs and he loosened his grip on her enough for her to slip out. Before he knew it, she had him flipped on his stomach and an arm pinned behind his back.

Breathing heavily, Mina asked, “You give?” She was breathless, probably from the rough landing. He wasn’t exactly good cushion material.

With his face pressed against the mat and his arm pinned high enough to be just shy of being painful, Ryouta nodded his head and gound out, “Can’t really breathe.” Satisfied with his answer, Mina let go of his arm and rolled off of him so she could flop onto the mat. Ryouta rolled onto his back and sucked in a gasp of air as his lungs began to cooperate with him again. He took a few seconds to breathe before pointing out, “You didn’t go all out on me.”

“No,” Mina admitted, “but you wouldn’t be able to learn if I just floored you in a few seconds.”

“It felt like it was only a few seconds.”

“You did good,” Mina told him. Uraraka came over and helped her back to her feet as Ryouta sat up. When Mina held a hand out to him to do the same, he waved dismissively and pushed himself to his feet. It struck him that his refusal might’ve come off as rude, but brushing off help had been ingrained in him. It had taken him a while to accept Fuyumi’s help with changing his bandages, but it had made it a lot easier when he had.

“I did better than in class, at least,” Ryouta conceded, rubbing his lower back. Even though he’d landed on the mat, it had been more painful than the punches she’d landed on him.

Uraraka glanced at her phone and groaned. “Ugh, it’s almost time for dinner.”

“Ugh?” Mina questioned. “You love food.”

“I know,” Uraraka complained, “but Iida, Deku, and I are having a study session during it for Present Mic’s exam.”

Ryouta picked up his gym bag and started for the locker rooms. “Good luck with that.”

“You’re so lucky that you don’t have to take it,” Uraraka said as she and Mina did the same.

“That’s because I’ve done it already,” Ryouta pointed out. Seeing as how he’d finished his first year at U.A. and had been a month into his second, it had been decided that he wouldn’t have to take the final exams for the regular classes. He was already repeating being sixteen; he didn’t need to repeat his first year too. It gave him time to work on the hero course, which he was severely behind on.

They split up at the locker rooms, Ryouta going to the boys’ side. He took a quick, hot shower, the warm water soothing his muscles. This training felt different from his quirk training. He was tired and sore, but not worn thin and beaten up. Where he’d puked plenty of times and felt weak, he now felt hungry and ready for dinner. All in all, he felt good. Yeah, he was still leagues behind them in terms of combat, but for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was actually improving. He was changing. It felt good.

Having clothes that he could call his own was nice too. He didn’t mind wearing Shouto’s old clothes, but it was weird having to borrow clothes from his little brother. After putting on the outfit he’d gotten from the bag of clothes Aizawa had given him, he toweled his hair dry and walked back out to the gym where Mina and Uraraka were already waiting on him.

“You rea-?” Uraraka cut off the second she raised her eyes from her cell to him. They widened briefly before she furrowed her brow and bit her lip, looking like she was trying not to make a face. “Oh, um, new clothes?”

Ryouta hiked the strap of his bag further on his shoulder. “Yeah, Aizawa gave me some clothes so I don’t have to keep borrowing stuff.” He tugged on the hem of his shirt. “I mean, I usually don’t go for things this colorful, but it’s whatever. They’re not bad.”

Mina’s mouth was open as she stared at him, but strangely, she looked positively delighted. “Aizawa picked out those clothes?”

“Maybe?” Ryouta hadn’t really considered it. Getting handed a bag of clothes, having some small detail about him noticed, had combined with the fear that he’d done something wrong and forgotten to make a powerful distraction. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. They’re probably from a bargain store, but that’s fine with me.”

“And you like that outfit?” Mina asked.

“It looks fine to me. Doesn’t really matter. Clothes are clothes. All that matters is that they fit and are comfortable.” Ryouta looked at the two girls, self-consciousness creeping up on him. “Why? Is it…? Does it look bad?” He rubbed the back of his neck, his discomfort becoming stronger by the second. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing!” Uraraka quickly replied. “I mean, well, it’s just, um...a different look.”

Ryouta frowned. “Different good or different bad?”

“Just different,” Uraraka told him. There was a smile on her face, but it looked tense.

“Hey, it’s free clothes,” Ryouta said. Uraraka bobbed her head in understanding. She’d talked about her financial difficulties, so she of all people would be able to understand. “I can’t complain.”

Mina clapped her hands together, a bright smile on her face and still utterly delighted. “I think it looks fabulous.” Ryouta’s cheeks warmed. He didn’t even know how to respond to that. Fabulous was not a word he would have ever thought to use to describe himself. Was she being sarcastic? No, she looked and sounded genuine, which was weird. “But a few people might say something else about it.”

Rolling his eyes and starting for the door, Ryouta said, “If you’re referring to Bakugou, I don’t care. He’s going to say something no matter what I wear. It’s not a big deal.”

It really wasn’t. To be honest, over the past few days, Bakugou had been kind of tame. The coming final exams had proven to be a great distraction as they were more worthy of his time than insulting Ryouta. It was strange, but he’d noticed that, despite coming off as a hothead ready to fly off the handle, Bakugou was really serious about school and his work. Iida had told him that he was third in the class. It was surprising. His tormentor was kind of...a nerd. It had started to change Ryouta’s view of him. This kid truly wanted to be a hero.

“I still wish he wasn’t so mean, but, you know, he has a hard time letting things go,” Mina said, the smile fading from her face, as she walked at his right.

“He doesn’t have to,” Ryouta pointed out. “I’m fine with him hating me.”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Uraraka mused, which made Ryouta snort. He was pretty sure on a scale of one to ten on how much Bakugou hated him, he was at a solid thirteen. “He hates looking weak and you - well, Dabi - made him feel it. I know it sounds weird, but as awful as the whole kidnapping was, he’s becoming a better hero for it. I mean, he’s even starting to get past his issues with Deku.” She shook her head as they stepped outside. “Not that it was a good thing at all! It just made us all think about what we’re doing here and what kind of heroes we want to become.”

“And he’s gotten a lot better,” Mina added. “He can be kind of an ass. He still calls me as Raccoon Eyes sometimes when he’s in a bad mood.”

“But you don’t have raccoon eyes,” Ryouta interjected.

Mina smiled. “It doesn’t bother me. He’s given dumb nicknames for everyone. It’s like this thing.” She looked over to her right at Uraraka. “What did he call you?”

Uraraka blew a raspberry. “Round Face.”

“That is dumb,” Ryouta said with a snort.

“The thing is, all his...Bakugou-ness aside, he’s one of my good friends,” Mina continued. A mischievous glint that instantly made Ryouta wary appeared in her golden eyes. “But sometimes I think it’d be funny to give him a taste of his own medicine. We play pranks on each other all the time, but never as much with Bakugou. It’d be nice to really pull one over him.”

“You’re flirting with danger, girl,” Uraraka joked.

Mina winked. “What’s wrong with a little danger?”

“Most people try to stay away from it,” Ryouta said.

“Do I look like most people?” Mina laughed and Uraraka giggled with her.

“Uh, no? Most people aren’t pink.” Ryouta wasn’t exactly sure what kind of response she had been expecting, but apparently, his was good enough as the two girls laughed again. Even though he wasn’t a part of their group and he couldn’t exactly consider them friends, seeing as how he’d been stuck with them by force, it was nice of them to make him feel included. He still felt like he was on the outside - he didn’t know if he would ever be able to feel any different - but it wasn’t so bad. Neither Uraraka nor Mina had to come to the gym with him today, but they’d done it. They must’ve taken Iida’s declaration to heart.

That thought lead to another surprising, but not upsetting, one. Aside from Uraraka’s reaction to his outfit, which was another matter entirely, they hadn’t seemed particularly uncomfortable around him either. While it was true that they could have just gotten better at hiding their discomfort, that just signified more effort to make him feel welcome. Ryouta didn’t know if he should feel touched by the kindness or guilty about the inconvenience. He settled for glancing down at his feet and trying to find something else to think of as a compromise.

His solution came to him as he turned the corner into the common room. Granted, it wasn’t necessarily the one he wanted, but it certainly distracted him from any ill-fated attempts to figure out his companions. They were immediately greeted by a choking, wheezing sound. On a couch sat Midoriya, a cup of water which he had apparently partially inhaled in one hand, the other covering his mouth as he stared at Ryouta. Beside him was Iida, who, despite firmly pounding his choking friend on the back and continuously asking if he was okay or needed medical attention, also kept glancing at him.

The worst, by far, was Shouto. He all but jumped out of his seat and eyed him for a heartbeat before scrubbing his eyes with a hand and groaning. “I’d forgotten about this,” he grumbled.

Those words broke the stunned silence that the reaction to their arrival had generated. “Forgotten about what?” Ryouta asked. His brother lowered his hand and eyed the ceiling, looking for all the world like he didn’t want to be the one to explain.

Since Midoriya had stopped choking, Iida decided to lift the burden from his shoulders. He shot up like a springboard before starting to speak. “I am not admonishing you as you are not violating any dress codes or offending anyone. We were merely caught off guard. I, at least, did not expect you to enjoy…” Iida paused the chopping gestured his hands had begun making for a moment to stare at his shirt. “Kawaii. ”

He heard a small noise from Uraraka, followed by a gentle slap as she pressed her hand against her mouth. Mina reached forward to pat him on the shoulder. “Aizawa gave him some clothes,” she said, the earlier glee still lingering in her tone.

“Of course,” Iida said, although the soft wheeze that emitted from the still red-faced Midoriya signified that ‘of course’ may not have been the best choice of words. “I’m sorry! I did not mean to imply that they are bad! The… contrast of the bold colors and pastels…”

Ryouta tuned him out and looked down at his clothes. He wore a diagonally striped blue open-front shirt with pale yellow cuffs and, underneath that, a hot pink u-neck with a print of a yellow cat and the word ‘kawaii’ (or he thought it was meant to say ‘kawaii’, as it was written in english and had come out as ‘hawaii’ instead) with a claw-mark through it. His pants were a fairly bright pastel orange and his shoes simple black flip-flops. All in all, it was a comfortable ensemble that served its purpose.

“I think it’s fine,” he said. Even so, he could feel his self-consciousness begin to well up again, along with the feeling that he was repeating himself and would be for a while.

“That’s what I forgot,” Shouto murmured. Ryouta turned to glower at his brother, only to pause when he saw the faint signs of amusement on his face. Oh. The simultaneously alien and precious notion that his brother may be trying to playfully tease him wasn’t one that he knew how to respond to. He remembered such behavior from Natsu, but not as much from Shouto. Especially not this Shouto. His mind felt caught up trying to process the fact that it was somehow happening.

He was promptly reminded that the rest of the world did, in fact, exist, by Midoriya finding his voice. “I was a little surprised, but I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong with it,” he said. “If you’re comfortable, you should wear it! Right, guys?” Midoriya flashed Ryouta an encouraging smile before turning it to everyone else in the room. He was met by a somewhat reluctant chorus of agreement and somewhat uncomfortable smiles.

There was definitely something off that he wasn’t catching onto. Even so, he nodded decisively and said, “Thank you, Midoriya. You have a decent sense of style, so I trust you.” Midoriya visibly brightened at that, although he could swear that he saw Uraraka struggling not to cringe out of the corner of his eye. He would have shot her a confused look if he wasn’t afraid of drawing his attention to it. Was something wrong with Midoriya’sclothes? He’d liked most of his outfits so far, his ‘shirt’ shirts were really funny, although his shoes were vaguely familiar in an unsettling way.

“There really isn’t anything wrong,” Mina piped up. ‘No matter what some people say,’ while left unsaid, was communicated easily through the encouraging look she shot him. “I really like the shir-”

“Oh.”

The sudden interruption drew Ryouta’s gaze back to the hallway, where Yaoyorozu Momo stood, staring at him, as seemed to be the trend for the afternoon. Her expression, however, was one of solid dismay, her hand held up to her mouth and her eyes wide in horror. It faltered as agitation flickered across her features before finally being replaced by something harder.

She marched into the room and began to speak in a voice that, for all its gentleness, held an unwavering undertone of firmness. “I don’t know who did this, but I expected better of my classmates. You know how we’re supposed to behave. This is…” she shook her head, looking almost disgusted. By the time she came to a stop in front of Ryouta, he was already very confused. What she said next did not help. “Ryouta, if you tell me who-”

“Aizawa, apparently,” Shouto interrupted. He probably imagined it, but it sounded like his brother was tempted to laugh.

The color began to leave Yaoyorozu’s face in short order. “ Oh,” she repeated. This time, the word was swimming in shame, although there was also a fair amount of lingering horror as well. She took a few steps back and looked at the wall, ceiling, floor - anywhere but Ryouta’s face. That was when it clicked.

“Did you think I was pranked?” he asked incredulously. Yaoyorozu’s head drooped and the guilt in her expression intensified, which immediately made him regret his words. The Yaoyorozu family was pretty rich. He supposed it wasn’t too ridiculous for her not to understand things like thriftiness and think that giving people brightly colored outfits was a cruel prank. She didn’t mean anything by it at the very least. He opened his mouth to apologize, only for another new arrival, doubtlessly attracted by the slowly rising clamor, to make her presence known before he could speak.

“What’s going on?” Asui said, her brows furrowed and head tilted slightly.

“Ryouta’s bad fashion sense almost killed Midoriya,” Shouto said. Ryouta immediately snapped his head around to glower at him. His voice was a perfect deadpan, but this time, there was no mistaking it. That absolute little shit was definitely laughing.

“Now you’re just being an ass,” he snapped. His voice wavered as he spoke. It wasn’t a bad waver. Although it was beginning to look like he was going to have to repeat himself until everyone had seen him and knew how he got his clothes, which was undeniably irritating, and didn’t like how people kept looking at him yet refused to explain what was wrong, it didn’t feel bad. Despite seeming like it should do the opposite, Shouto’s apparent amusement in the situation was making his self-consciousness slowly melt away. It looked like he might be aware of it to some degree as well.

Shouto looked him in the eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Someone has to tell you the truth.” This time, Uraraka wasn’t able to keep herself from letting out a small snicker. He heard a small ‘thwack’ as Mina smacked her on the arm, which, despite a choked attempt to apologize, only made her laugh harder. Somewhere in the midst of this, Asui gave a neutral, “I see.”

Ryouta rolled his eyes and huffed before looking back at Yaoyorozu. She still looked guilty and was fiddling with her hands. He also noticed that Iida was sitting stiffly and had a blush lingering on his face, likely admonishing himself over something or other. Midoriya kept shooting him concerned glances. “None of you did anything wrong,” Ryouta assured them. “I guess I just… don’t care about clothes that much.”

Naturally, that was when Bakugou showed up.

“Holy fucking shit!” he exclaimed before falling into a fit of laughter that seemed to startle everyone just as much as his choice of clothing had. He had both hands over his mouth in an attempt to muffle his guffaws and was doubled over, as if he physically couldn’t stand straight. His face was even turning red as he tried to restrain himself. His laughter was the only thing to be heard, everyone else having gone very silent with various unsettled looks on their faces. Ryouta wore a blank expression as he watched Bakugou with a completely unimpressed stare.

Midoriya nervously glanced at Shouto and then Uraraka before venturing, “Are...are you okay, Kacchan?”

“Okay?” Bakugou shot back in between laughs. “ Okay? Shut the fuck up, Deku, this is…” He finally stopped laughing, but was forced to refrain from speaking so he could take a few breaths. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Sighting, Ryouta repeated himself for what felt like the hundredth time, “Aizawa got me some clothes of my own.”

“You’re telling me that our homeroom teacher, pro hero Eraserhead, who once expelled an entire hero class, went out and bought you clothes” - Bakugou pointed an accusing finger at him - “and he bought you that? And you just wore it without complaint?”

“I highly doubt that he bought them himself,” Ryouta replied defensively, folding his arms across his chest. Surely he had better things to do. Then again, it made him wonder who had bought them. Maybe he’d just asked for donations and people had put clothes they no longer wore in the bag. It would explain the random variety of colors and styles. “And why wouldn’t I? I’m not a complete jackass. You don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. They fit. They’re comfortable. They fulfill their function. They’re clothes. What else is there, Saggy Bottoms?”

The muscle by Bakugou’s right eye twitched, probably at the nickname, but at least he was confident enough in himself to not immediately pull his pants up. He did sag his pants a ridiculous amount. In the back of his mind, Ryouta knew that he’d pick at his clothes later, trying to figure out exactly what was wrong with them, but he was resisting out of sheer stubbornness for now.

“I don’t know,” Bakugou finally replied, still sounding incredulous. “Maybe that they look good and not like you dropped acid and went shopping in the kid’s section?”

“They’re not that bad,” Mina jumped in.

Bakugou shook his head. “No, no, don’t defend this disaster just because you like bright colors.”

“And Aizawa was the one that got them, so this is really on him,” Uraraka added.

“Maybe so,” Bakugou said, like that was a door he would open on another day. “But Dabi over here willingly put them on and thinks it’s perfectly fine.” He started to snort as he tried to resist the urge to start laughing again. “He looks like he’s going to a rave. At least it matches his hair.”

At that moment, Kirishima walked in with Kaminari behind him. The first thing he noticed as Bakugou laughing. “What’s go-?” His eyes landed on Ryouta and widened. “Whoa, um, wow, okay I was not expecting this.”

“Can you believe that the guy wearing this outfit grows up to kidnap me?” While Bakugou cooled down, everyone else wore distinctly uncomfortable looks. Uraraka shifted on her feet. Deku coughed. Shouto glowered in that way that made the room drop a degree. No one said anything though and Ryouta could understand why. It was up to Bakugou how he dealt with that part of his past. If he chose to be glib about it for whatever reason, they would let him do it. No one had the right to take that choice away from him. “I’m honestly kind of pissed, now that I think about it. How the hell could I have ever been-?” He cut himself off and narrowed his eyes. “Whatever. That’s tacky.”

What was it that Uraraka had said about Bakugou? That he hated looking weak and Dabi had made him feel that way? There was no way in hell he was going to admit that in front of everyone. Ryouta would’ve done the same thing as him: denied any sort of weakness or fear until he died or maybe even taken it to his grave. Having information pried out of him that he’d never willingly given away before was already awkward enough.

“Dude,” Kaminari said, his face filled with as much delight and mirth as Mina’s had been. “That outfit is electric!”

“No!” Bakugou shouted, letting off a mini explosion in his palm, to which Kaminari just laughed.

Kirishima shrugged his shoulders, by far the most neutral out of all of them, although he still looked surprised. “I don’t know, man. I mean, that outfit is, uh, loud, but if you feel comfortable wearing it and don’t care what anyone else thinks, that’s pretty manly.”

“No,” Bakugou said again, much more emphatically, “no, no. You do not get an opinion in this.” He pointed down at Kirishima’s shoes, which were unmistakably crocs. Ryouta raised his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized that people still wore those. “Not when you refuse to throw those things away.”

“You’re just jealous that you can’t rock them,” Kirishima retorted.

“Just leave them both be, Bakugou,” Mina said in a dismissive tone. She really wasn’t phased by him at all, talking to him like she would anyone else. “At least we don’t wear different versions of the same shirt practically every day.”

Ryouta eyed the other boy. “Now that I think about it, do you own any t-shirts that aren’t black with a skull on it?”

Bakugou glared at him. If it was possible for steam to come out of a person’s ears like in cartoons, Ryouta was fairly certain he would be doing that right now. “I’d rather do that than wear an outfit you could see from space.” He stood up straight and swept the room with a glare that dared anyone to protest. “I’ll be in my dorm giving my eyes a break from this. Thanks for making my week brighter.” And with that, he stomped to his dorm, leaving everyone confused about how to feel.

Well, in a sense, that was the most positive interaction that Ryouta had ever had with Bakugou, so he couldn’t exactly be mad about it. Yeah, he was a little disgruntled, but he was mostly feeling awkward about being the center of attention for so long. Was he going to have to do some sort of fashion show for the class so they could get whatever this was out of their systems? He was not doing that, but if they had this reaction every time it put on a new outfit, it would get old fast.

Mina laying a hand on his arm nearly made Ryouta jump out of his flip-flops. She pulled it away so fast that it was almost like he’d only imagined her touching him. “You okay?”

Ryouta blinked. “Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” For once, he wasn’t lying. He glanced at Shouto, who had eased up again now that Bakugou was out of the room. Every time the two of them were near each other, his brother would tense up, as if he had to remain vigilant in case a fight broke out, even if it was somewhere as mundane as the bathrooms in the morning while brushing their teeth. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

Around them, everyone began to disperse again. Uraraka had meandered over to the couch to sit with Iida and Midoriya, probably to start their study session. Kirishima and Kaminari had gone to the kitchen. Yaoyorozu moved to speak with Shouto about something, distracting him and leaving Ryouta with just Mina.

“You sure?” she asked.

“Yeah. If it’s not my hair, it’s my clothes,” Ryouta said, “but honestly, it’s a lot better than what it could be. I’m, you know…”

Bakugou could pick on him for a lot worse things than his looks. There was the fact that he was a villain. That would have gotten under his skin a lot more. He didn’t like it when Bakugou referred to him as Dabi, but that was the name he knew him by from back then. It was a name that he had apparently chosen for himself. What a shit ass name.

Ryouta shrugged his shoulders and added, “Like you said, it’d be nice to pull one over him so he knows what it’s like, but it’s not like I can do anything.”

Mina grinned and he couldn’t help but notice that that devious glimmer was back and stronger than ever. “I have an idea.”

@mistystarshine notes: Agreed that this was a fun chapter to write! As I read Lanni's chunks, I. Was. Howling. Of course, the story wouldn't be half as much fun without you readers. We're almost at a thousand kudos, which... holy cow! I love you guys so much!

Now we get to the fun part of my notes. We have fanart! The first piece is directly linked to this chapter. Have a reference of Ryouta in his horrible outfit, made by the wonderful @ccyans! You should also admire this titan of pastels for designing the outfit. We just put the vision into words.

Next, we have some memes by @wellthengetouttathesoupaisle! They were inspired by discord shenanigans, but believe me when I say that you don't need context to enjoy them.

Finally, we have been blessed with some ship art by Pseudowinner! Would you believe me if I said that Lanni and I didn't drop any spoilers for this chapter? (Aside from asking Ccyans for permission to use the wonder outfit, of course!) Getting this right before a chapter with so much interaction between them made me grin.

To anyone who's interested and didn't catch it before, you can find the discord here! We'd love to have you!

#dabi #dabi is a todoroki #bnha #aizawa shouta #katsuki bakugou #mina ashido #ochako uraraka #izuku midoriya #tenya iida #momo yaoyorozu #ejirou kirishima #denki kaminari #mha #boku no hero academia #dabi fic #my hero academia #ryouta is a hot mess lmao #look he made bakugou laugh #the things of songs

22 notes · View notes

purrincess-chat · 6 years

Text

Midnight Rose CH3

Ayyy I finally finished this chapter! Soak up the last bit of fluff while it lasts cause next chapter is where things start to change. :P

Read on AO3

Chapter 3

Juleka awoke the next day to the sound of Penny rolling a marble around on the floor. She sat up with a wince, clutching her head as a sharp stabbing pain shot straight through her skull. Her familiar hopped up onto the bed as soon as she noticed that she’d awoken, and she sat patiently while Juleka oriented herself.

You didn’t get to practice last night. Penny scolded, flicking the tip of her tail.

“I wasn’t really in the best state of mind,” Juleka retorted, reaching for the glass of water on her night table, no doubt left there for her by Luka, and taking a swig.

This is because of that girl. You’ve grown attached to her.

“I think it’s the other way around. She’s the one who won’t leave me alone,” Juleka said, laying back against her pillows and running a hand through her hair.

You allow her to linger. Penny said pointedly, and Juleka thought back to the way she’d felt the night before, though everything was a little hazy.

“I’m not used to being noticed by anyone.” She averted her gaze. “I’ve lived in the shadows my whole life. Is it so wrong to spend a little time in the sun?”

She’ll get you killed.

“She’s never going to find out about me.” Juleka said, rolling onto her side and pulling her blanket up to her neck.

But you’ve developed feelings for her.

“I don’t feel anything for her. She’s just some girl. I barely even know her.” Juleka closed her eyes and felt as Penny climbed over her and sat on the pillow.

You can deny it all you want, but don’t forget that you and I are connected. I feel every emotion you do, hear every thought that passes through your mind. Your heart changed last night.

“I was drunk. I hardly think it counts,” She hummed with a hint of annoyance. “I’ll avoid her for a while if it makes you happy.”

Penny leaned down to her ear. And how do you plan to avoid her when she’s already in your house?

Juleka became vaguely aware of the scent of freshly baked bread and sat up again, sniffing the air curiously, and felt her blood run cold. She couldn’t be. Luka would never allow it. Kicking off her blankets, she stumbled over to the door and out into the main room where Luka sat at the table with a cup of coffee. He shot her an apologetic wince, and she flicked her gaze over to the tiny girl beating eggs in a bowl.

“Oh, good morning!” She paused for a moment to flash her a cheery grin, and Juleka felt her eye twitch as her head throbbed harder. “You seemed pretty out of it last night, so I wanted to come check on you. You should really learn to pace yourself.”

When Rose turned her back to them, Juleka shot Luka an accusing glare, and he bit his lip and offered a small shrug. She pinched the bridge of her nose and pointed to the hallway, and when Luka gestured to Rose, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Hey, Rose, uh, Luka and I are just going to have a quick chat in the hall. We’ll be right back,” She said, shoving him out the door.

“Alrighty! The bread is almost done, so breakfast will be ready soon.” She smiled, and Juleka nodded curtly in response before pulling the front door shut behind her.

“You let her into our house?” She hissed in a low voice.

“Don’t blame me! She’s your friend,” Luka shot back. “I was like half-awake when she showed up at the door, and she doesn’t really take no for an answer.”

“What if she sees one of my spell books or my crystal or any of my other magical belongings?” She clutched her head, feeling the blood pulsing under her palm.

“Relax, all of your stuff stays in your room. Just keep her out of there, and we’ll be fine,” Luka said, holding up reassuring hands, and Juleka glared at him long and hard before shoving the door open and stalking back inside their tiny flat.

“Everything alright?” Rose asked, eyebrows furrowing as Juleka sat down at the table and leaned against her fist.

“Yes, I just needed to tell Luka to clean up before we have guests over,” She said smoothly as Rose set a plate in front of her.

“I wasn’t really expecting anyone, so sorry if I can’t predict the future,” He said pointedly, and she scrunched her nose at him.

“Oh, it’s my fault. I came over unannounced, but I felt guilty about last night.” Rose shifted her gaze to her feet with a small frown. “You wouldn’t let me come in and make sure you got to bed okay, so I was worried.”

“I can take care of myself,” Juleka said pushing her eggs around.

“I know, but I meant what I said last night. Do you remember?” She leaned down into her face with a warm smile that brought a flush to Juleka’s cheeks. “You don’t have to be alone anymore because you’ve got me.”

Juleka averted her gaze stubbornly, attempting to hide the redness splotching her cheeks behind her hair as she nibbled on her breakfast. Rose seemed satisfied with her response, so she returned to the kitchen to clean up, humming contently to herself. Taking a small bite of bread, she made the mistake of glancing over at Luka who met her gaze with a taunting smirk to which she responded with a glare.

“By the way, Luka, you play really well. I was impressed last night at the bar,” Rose called over the hiss of the sink.

“Thanks. I’ve been playing since I was little,” He said, flicking his gaze away from Juleka and allowing her to lower her head back over her breakfast. “Julie plays too.”

“Do you really?” Rose’s eyes lit up, and Juleka chewed her eggs for a long time, delaying her reply.

“Only a little,” She said finally, and Rose gasped in delight.

“You’ll have to teach me sometime!” She clapped decisively, and Juleka muttered some form of agreeance.

“Well, I’ve got to get going. I’m having tea with some nobles from the city. I’d invite you to come, but you should rest today.” Rose declared once the dishes were done, wiping her hands on a towel. “Drink lots of fluids, okay?”

“Mmm.” Juleka nodded obediently, and Rose let out a soft giggle, pulling Juleka in for a tight hug.

“Let’s get together soon, okay? I want to spend a lot more time with you,” She whispered in her ear before taking her leave out the front door, and Juleka leaned back in her chair with a groan.

“Looks like you’ve found yourself a girlfriend,” Luka remarked, and Juleka shot him a displeased glare. “What? It’s not often you interact with other people, so it’s fun to see you get so worked up.”

“Are you forgetting why I don’t often interact with other people?” She said pointedly, jabbing her eggs with a fork.

“I know, but she seems nice.” Luka shrugged. “I mean, she walked your drunk ass home last night and came back to make you breakfast this morning.”

“She also hates witches just like everyone else in the world,” Juleka said, standing and carrying her plate to the sink. “I’m going to lie down for a while. Don’t disturb me.”

“Hey, Julie.” She stopped outside her door with her hand on the knob. “You know I’ll always do everything in my power to protect you, right?”

“I know, Luka.” She said, offering him a small smile. “But somethings just can’t be helped.”

***

You’re making good progress on that spell. Penny complimented the following evening.

Sleeping for most of the day had helped take the edge off her hangover, and now she was ready to focus on her magic. Luka had already gone to work, so there was nothing left to distract her. Nothing except her thoughts which, despite her best efforts, were seemingly hard to ignore. Her mind kept wandering back to Rose, and every time she pictured her face, Juleka’s cheeks warmed and her heart sputtered in her chest.

A couple times she even dared to imagine a world where she could reach out and take Rose into her arms, but she knew such a world could never exist. Their reality would always involve secrets and danger, and Juleka knew that it wasn’t worth the risk. Yet, part of her still held onto hope even if she knew it would never come to pass.

You’re thinking about her again. Penny said pointedly.

“I am not,” Juleka insisted, but Penny head butted her hand where a single red rose had conjured, and she twisted it with a sigh.

You summoned them last night at the bar too. Your powers are affected by your emotions, and she causes quite the emotional reaction in you.

“So help me control it. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” She said with more bite than she intended, though Penny paid her tone no mind.

There is only so much that I can do for you. You possess a great power that if left unchecked could cause you problems.

“Maybe we should just move into the mountains then and live off the land, away from any human contact,” She grumbled, igniting the rose in her hand and watching it burn into ash.

You should really search for a coven. You’d benefit greatly from being around other witches.

“It’s not like they go around advertising these things. A lot of covens moved underground after what happened with my mom. The king put out a bounty on every witch, and a lot of covens have been slaughtered since then.” She said darkly. “So I think our method is the safest.”

Suit yourself.

“Juleka?” They both froze at the sound of Rose’s voice in the living room. “Are you home? The door was unlocked…”

Juleka sprang to her feet, rushing to the door and slamming her palm against it as it began to open, peeking through the crack into Rose’s curious blue eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just on my way home and thought I’d stop in and see you,” She said. “Can I come in?”

“No.” Juleka replied too quickly, and Rose seemed taken aback, so she added, “It’s a mess. We can talk in the living room.”

“Okay.” Rose smiled as she slipped out into the short hallway, squeezing through a thin crack in the door and pulling it shut behind her so as to hide her room from view. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah.” Juleka nodded, pacing into the main room and plopping on the sofa.

“I’m glad! I felt really bad about last night. Sorry I dragged you around so much yesterday.” She curled her shoulders a little bit, clasping her hands together. “I just really enjoy your company.”

Juleka’s cheeks flushed, and she remained silent, so Rose glanced up at her, biting her lip.

“I want to get to know you.” She reached out to place her hand over Juleka’s where it rested on her knee. “Is that alright? Because if it’s not, if you’re tired of me, then just say the word, and I won’t bother you again.”

We shouldn’t see each other anymore. The words danced on the tip of her tongue but refused to move past her lips. Juleka knew that she should say it, but she couldn’t bring herself to end this. Because as dangerous as it was, she’d wanted to see Rose too.

“It’s fine,” She said finally, and Rose seemed pleased by her response, her sunny smile returning.

Juleka didn’t know it at the time, but those words served as a free invitation for Rose to come by whenever she liked, which was often. Granted, she and Luka had odd schedules given their nightly obligations, though it only took a couple days for Rose to learn when they were awake, and similarly, it didn’t take Juleka and Luka long to learn when she would show up either. Most evenings Rose would come by as Luka was leaving for work, and as such, Juleka made an effort to await her arrival with a book in the main room. Penny became annoyed at the time sacrificed socializing when she could be practicing magic, but Juleka enjoyed being with her so long as the risk of exposing herself was kept to a minimum.

Rose was actually a convenient asset to have as she often spent her days mingling with the rest of the village, and she’d report the latest gossip to Juleka during their time together. It served as a way for Juleka to gauge the town’s suspicion of her, and so far the most exciting news Rose reported was the birth of a healthy baby girl to the carpenters up the street. No one seemed to suspect Juleka’s secret which helped ebb some of her paranoia.

That is until the night Rose showed up late.

Penny warned her against letting her guard down around Rose, but the more time they spent together, the more Juleka relaxed. She looked forward to their visits, so when Luka left for the evening, she took her post and began watching the minutes tick by. After an hour, she determined that perhaps Rose had gotten tied up with other obligations, so she set her book aside and decided to take a shower while she waited.

Do you enjoy flirting with danger? Penny asked critically as she flicked on the water and hung her towel on the rack.

“Is it wrong for me to be happy given that everything else in my life sucks?” She retorted while she undressed. “For once I have something more than magic to look forward to every day.”

And what exactly do you hope to accomplish with this relationship? She flicked her tail challengingly.

“I dunno.” Juleka shrugged, leaning against the shower wall. “I just want to be with her.”

You will pay the price for it one day. She rolled her eyes at that, opting to ignore it and focus on washing her hair.

She traced light figures in the air and practiced duplicating bubbles, a small smile curled on her lips. She smiled a lot more now than she ever had, and she knew it was because of Rose. This fluttery feeling was new for her, and no matter how hard she tried to suppress it, it only pushed back harder, so she’d decided to let it burst free. The warmth in her chest was surprisingly comforting, and although it made her light headed at times, she was learning to enjoy the tingling sensation in her belly anytime she thought of Rose.

Knock-knock.

“Juleka?” Her heart skipped at the sound of Rose’s voice on the other side of the door. “Is that you?”

“Yes, I’ll just be a few minutes,” She responded. “Wait in the living room.”

Rose smiled contently, though her gaze flicked down to the door knob where her fingers teased the brass; her cheeks flushed at the thought, heart racing wildly in her chest, so she left it alone and obediently retreated to the living room. As much as she wanted to, she wasn’t quite certain of Juleka’s feelings yet, so she didn’t want to potentially spoil their budding relationship with such brazen behavior even if she spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about Juleka’s lips.

She moved Luka’s blanket aside as she sat on the couch, glancing around at the loose sheets of music, some crumbled and tossed lazily at the waste basket in the corner, and the dishes unwashed in the sink. With a sly smile, she stood up and set to work tidying up, hoping to surprise Juleka when she came out of the shower. Glancing at the closed door in the hall, she felt a tiny lightbulb go off in her head. Juleka was always so embarrassed by her room that she never let Rose inside, so maybe she could show Juleka that she cared for her by cleaning it up a little. Maybe then Juleka would open up to her more, and they could become more than just friends. Perhaps she’d even let Rose stay over one night, and her cheeks burned at the thought.

She tiptoed up to the door, biting her lip a little as she reached for the knob and trailing her fingers over the metal hesitantly. There was the possibility that Juleka would be upset with her for entering her room without permission, but she couldn’t imagine why there was such a need for secrecy between them. The air of mystery is what had drawn Rose to Juleka, and now she lived for those shy smiles that she attempted to conceal.

Her fingers tightened around the knob, and she gave it a twist, gasping a little as the door cracked. The room on the other side was dark, but before she could get a good look, a wet hand curled around hers and pulled it shut forcefully. She yelped in surprise, spinning around and finding herself staring into Juleka’s brassy glare.

“I’m sorry! I wasn’t snooping, I-I was just going to tidy up a bit because you never want me to go in because of the mess, and I just wanted to show you that you don’t have to hide anything from me because we’re friends, and I just wanted us to be closer and-” She stopped short when Juleka leaned down and pressed her lips against Rose’s gently.

“It’s not nice to enter someone’s room without permission,” She said chidingly when she pulled away, and Rose gulped down the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” She breathed, and Juleka straightened, adjusting her towel.

“Give me five minutes,” She said, pursing her lips, and Rose nodded, stepping out of the way so that she could slip into her room.

She touched her lips, still tingling from the kiss, and leaned against the wall with a sigh. Juleka did feel the same way about her, and they’d even shared their first kiss! Of course, she had been a little off guard, so she didn’t really get to savor it. Maybe she’d steal another one as payback. She just couldn’t believe that Juleka felt the same way about her! All this time she worried that Juleka secretly didn’t like her very much, but here she stood outside her bedroom door, waiting for it to open. Because that door didn’t just close her off from the room inside, it was a barrier in their relationship, and overcoming it meant that things were progressing. Maybe her fairytale ending wasn’t so far off after all.

After a few minutes, the door opened, and Juleka peeked out nervously. “Okay, you can come in. It’s still a little messy, but-”

“I don’t mind!” Rose said quickly, gaze softening as a warm smile curled on her lips. Juleka stepped aside nervously, gesturing her in, and Rose took in tall bookcases filled to the brim with thick texts with wide eyes. “You really are a reader.”

“Yeah…” Juleka rubbed her arm as Rose flipped open the cover of the novel sitting on her desk.

She turned back to face Juleka with an affectionate smile, crossing the small room in two strides and taking her hands. “Thank you for showing this to me. I want to be close to you. Closer than I am with anyone else…”

“I want that too, Rose.” Rose’s countenance brightened at those words, and she gave Juleka’s hands a gentle squeeze before stretching up on her tiptoes to meet her lips once more, this time lingering a lot longer.

Juleka meant it. More than anything she wanted to bear her soul to Rose and for her to know Juleka more than anyone else, but in her life such things were nothing more than a pipe dream, a fact she knew all too well. But at least for a little while, she could pretend. After being shut away her whole life, she wanted to spend a few minutes in the sun even if she knew she might get burned.

#miraculous ladybug #julerose #juleka couffaine #rose lavillant #julerose june #my writing #midnight rose #witch au #fantasy au

35 notes · View notes