#in the lame hopes that someone will stumble across this post and recognize him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yanderart · 4 years

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Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo).

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You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset.

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut.

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold.

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them.

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight.

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves.

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night.

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year.

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder.

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment.

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough.

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted.

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand.

A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk.

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking, chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead.

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web.

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas.

How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps.

Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.

Government lies and why they matter.

Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl).

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum.

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter.

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question.

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior.

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen.

I just think it's amazingThe things you know

How you share them with everyone

The way you see through the lies

I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation.

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping.

I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too.

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded.

I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros.

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself.

I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out.

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything?

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either.

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing.

So you really are a n00b then.

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever.

And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game.

Be more like you, you left unsaid.

So am I your senpai then?

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback.

You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now.

Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind...

I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views.

A welcomed change in topics.

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you.

Well, yah. You make compelling arguments.

Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before.

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins.

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving.

I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath.

I can help you with that.

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit.

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point.

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you.

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust.

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second.

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well.

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him.

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises.

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap.

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path.

。。。。。

Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand.

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least.

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner.

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place.

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness.

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside.

Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you.

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever.

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well.

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant.

I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up.

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together.

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy.

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there.

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was.

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance.

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor.

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back.

。。。。。

The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame.

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest.

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently.

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.

Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time.

This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.

i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch.

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated.

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent.

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with.

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed.

and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement.

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in.

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.

Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against.

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves.

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

how the fck did u get that

I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as.

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

fucking delete that right now, man.

this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT.

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle.

And he was doing it all in your name.

Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to.

y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing.

They're a friend.

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone.

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments.

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way.

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.

Anything for you, [Y/N].

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture.

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips.

You truly looked angelic like that.

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after.

。。。。。

But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present.

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently.

Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods.

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start.

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you.

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you.

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived.

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

。。。。。

Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago.

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into.

Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face.

Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto.

Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I?

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation.

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating.

。。。。。

On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier.

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest.

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit.

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony.

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements.

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was.

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable.

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline.

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend.

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements.

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live.

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self.

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle.

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com.

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring.

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by.

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth.

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions.

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building.

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe.

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic.

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors.

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that.

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief.

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure.

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space.

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet.

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second.

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place.

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours.

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action.

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer.

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages.

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing.

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind.

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle.

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it.

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you.

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite.

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.

。。。。。

Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass.

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled.

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place?

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper.

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit.

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you.

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued.

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to.

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt.

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time.

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept.

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation.

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him.

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans.

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along.

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways.

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin.

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not.

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt.

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them.

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips.

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole.

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting.

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer.

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills.

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning.

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you.

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down.

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___;

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight 😠 👑

#bnha fanart #todoroki #yandere todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha fanart #bnha x reader #todoroki fanart #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #bnha smut #bnha art #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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winchester-books · 4 years

Text

Happy Birthday

Based On: Supernatural

Characters: SisterWinchester, John, Sam, Dean

Warnings: Angst, Family-Abuse, Language, Horrible Parenting

Word Count: 1700

Summary: It’s Deans birthday and Y/N wants to get him something special. However, gets caught stealing and her father is furious.

A/N: please read warnings!! also this was originally planned to be posted on dean winchester’s birthday, but i never got a chance to finish it until now... oops. happy late super late birthday to a man who deserves happiness (even though happiness has nothing to do with this fic)

also i know it’s been so long since i’ve posted, im sorry for my hiatus, i’m hoping i’ll be able to write more these upcoming weeks! 💞

The police officer led you into the station and ordered you to sit in the hard metal chair next to his desk. The man sat down across from you, informing you that he was going to call your father as he picked up the phone.

You nodded absentmindedly, not really listening to what the cop was saying- you already knew what was going to happen.

You swallowed dryly, knowing that you had screwed up. You gripped the chair tightly, your nails digging into the cushion, as you strained to hear the conversation.

Maybe, just maybe Dean would be the one to pick up.

“Hello, is this Mr. Winchester?” The officer said as someone picked up the phone.

“Yes, can I help you?” John responded impatiently.

Your heart dropped immediately recognizing your father’s impatient and irritated tone.

“Yes,” The officer glanced over at you as he explained, “I’m calling about an issue concerning your daughter, Y/N, she’s gotten herself in some trouble. We’ve decided to let her off with a warning, but we still need you to come down to the station,”

Your grip on the chair tightened as you waited to hear your father’s response.

Nothing.

“Sir?” The officer asked.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” John said coldly.

You winced, you could already tell, he was furious.

“Thank you, sir-" Click. John hung up. The officer pulled the phone back, a little surprised that the man had just hung up on him like that. He shook it off and turned back to you, “Your father will be here soon,”

You nodded silently, mentally cursing yourself for getting caught.

It was stupid.

All you had been trying to do was get your little brother Dean a gift for his birthday.

A stupid car magazine and a candy bar.

A lame excuse for a present, it wasn’t even a good gift- you had no clue what normal 9 year old boys liked to do for fun, but it didn’t matter because neither did Dean.

It was a dumb thing to do, and you knew that Dean wasn’t expecting anything, but you had felt bad. This year, John hadn’t even mentioned Dean’s birthday- he must’ve of forgotten. When the cashier saw you walk out of the store with a candy bar sticking out of your back pocket and a copy of Car and Driver Magazine stuffed not-so-discreetly under your t-shirt, he yelled for you to stop. You got scared and you ran, so he called the cops.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t stolen anything before, but this time had been different.

The things you usually stole were always necessary. Just a few pieces of bread or an apple or two so you and your brothers could get by while your father was on a hunt.

You looked up at the sound of the door swinging open. Your father strode in and you immediately dropped your eyes back to the floor, not daring to look at him. He nodded emotionlessly to the officer a a greeting, sitting himself into the seat next to you.

“I’m afraid I caught your daughter stealing from the market on the corner earlier today,”

John stayed silent as the officer explained.

“I’ve spoke to her, and we both think a warning is sufficient enough-”

“What did she steal?” John questioned, interrupting the officer.

“A candy bar and and a magazine,” the man responded, seemly a little intimidated by John.

You didn’t look up, but you could feel your father’s angry glare burning into your back, “So, it’s just a warning- does that mean I can take her home now?” John asked, already standing up.

“Umm-“ The officer’s hesitation received an intimidating stare from John. The officer shifted uncomfortably, loosening his collar, “Uh, Y-yes, you’re both free to go. Just no more warnings,”

You nodded, but you weren’t really listening to what the man was saying. You were trying to prepare yourself for the punishment you were going to face when you got back to the motel room.

John put his hand on your shoulder, guiding you out the door and into the Impala. He didn’t say anything on the ride back to the motel. He stared straight ahead, his knuckles turning white as he harshly gripped his steering wheel. He skidded into the parking lot and turned the Impala off. He opened the door, not even glancing your way, “Get inside,” he ordered.

You did as you were told, following him into the dirty motel room. Sam sat quietly coloring while Dean stood at the little table pouring cereal into two bowls he had set out for him and his little brother.

“Dad!” Sam called, a smile across his face.

John didn’t even glance towards him, he stared down at Dean sternly, “Take your brother and leave. Y/N and I are going to have a talk,”

Dean gave you a concerned look, “Dad, I just make me and Sammy dinner-” It was a flimsy excuse, but he tried to help you.

“I said get out.” John repeated, more force behind his words this time.

“Y-Yes sir,” Dean nodded, quickly dragging Sam outside with him.

The second the door shut, John turned, glaring down at you, “You interrupted my hunt,” he said coldly.

You opened your mouth, trying to find anything to say to calm your father down.

“You could’ve been arrested- you could’ve gotten me arrested,” he barked, taking a step towards you. “All for a fucking candy bar and a dumb magazine?” He fumed. You winced when he took another step towards you.

You stumble over your words, “I was... I just wanted to-“ John smacked his hand across your cheek. You stopped mid-sentence, feeling the hot sting on your face. You winced, your hand immediately reaching to the spot he hit.

“Do you really think I care?” He snarled and you took a step back, refusing to let the tears welling in your eyes fall.

You didn’t respond- afraid that if you said anything you’d only end up saying something that would make it worse for you.

He lunged forward, shoving you backwards, hard. You stumbled back, your hands flailing around as they tried to find something to stop your fall. You fell onto the ground, smacking your head on the dusty couch on the way down.

“I asked you a question!” John roared. You held your breath, trying to forget about the splitting pain in your head as you looked up at your father towering above you.

“No,” you shook your head, “No-No Sir,” you quickly corrected. You pulled your hand away from your throbbing temple, grimacing when you saw blood.

Your father didn’t seem to care, “If you ever get caught doing anything like that again, you’re out,” he said, his glare never faltering.

“I’m out?” You asked cautiously, still careful to not upset him.

“Out of the family,” he said bluntly, “I’ll take Sam and Dean and leave you wherever you stand,”

You knew your father could be harsh, but this was a whole other level. You wanted to scream at him and hit him back, but you found yourself nodding and replying, “Yes Sir,” in a hallow voice.

He ordered you to clean yourself up, muttering something about going to get a drink before he left the room and your brothers ran back inside.

You turned away, trying to hide the cut on your head and the red handprint across your cheek.

“Y/N/N, Com’ere,” Dean said, taking a few steps towards you.

You didn’t face him. You didn’t want to worry him, you were fine. Dean grabbed your shoulder, forcing you to face him.

His eyes filled with pity for you as he looked at your wounds, “Sammy, get a washcloth and some water,” Dean told him as he continued inspecting your face.

You watched him, the worry and anger etched into his small face. He was only nine years old, but he was aged well beyond his years, “Dean, it’s not that bad,” you pushed his hand away, but he ignored your protests and started wiping away some of the blood with the washcloth Sam had retrieved.

“What happened?” Sam asked curiously, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Nothing Sammy,” you and Dean said in unison.

“But-“

“Go to bed Sammy, I need to talk to Y/N/N,” Dean ordered.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments as dean continued to work on your face. He wiped across one of the cuts on your face, causing you to wince.

“Sorry,” Dean apologized as he kept working.

You shook your head, laughing a little to yourself, “You know, I’m the big sister. I’m supposed to be taking care of you and Sammy, not the other way around,”

“You take care of us enough,” Dean assured, “We’ve gotta be ther for you too,” the room fell back into silence besides Sam’s soft snoring. “What’s Dad mad about this time?” Dean said quietly after a few moments.

You sighed as Dean finished bandaging the last cut on your face, “I screwed up... I almost got arrested,”

Dean furrowed his brows, “What’d you do? Did you steal something? I thought we had enough food-”

“We do. I just,” you sighed, “I was trying to get you a birthday present. I mean, dad hadn’t said anything about it all day so I just figured he forgot. It was just a car magazine and a candy bar, but wanted to at least try to make it a little special for you,”

Guilt washed over Dean’s face, “Y/N, I didn’t need anything I-”

“Dean, I know,” you said giving him a soft smile, “And this isn’t your fault, it’s mine for getting caught and it’s dad’s for being such an asshole,”

Deans eyes widened at the word, not used to hearing you speak poorly about your father.

You sighed bringing your hand up to cup his face, “Dont worry Dean, one day I’ll get us out of here. Me, you, and Sammy can get our own place that isn’t some nasty motel and we can do whatever we want. No hunts, no danger, no drunk dad, just us. And we can be happy,”

Dean nodded, a smile spreading across his face at the thought.

“Happy Birthday Dean,” you whispered pulling your younger brother into a tight hug.

“Thanks Y/N,” he said, wrapping his arms around your neck and laying his head down on your shoulder.

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reapxrsarc · 4 years

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a catch-all tag for old guard shenanigans; under the cut are character-specific verses available. unlike main verses, tog verses are not self-contained unless otherwise plotted. still uc, like the rest of this damn blog. tw for death, murder, slavery reference, and abuse under the cut.

v; i’m the definition of worn | tog ; rose

Rose died in 1798, fighting side by side with her aunt’s gang. They weren’t officially part of the United Irishmen, being all women, but that didn’t stop them from fighting. Very few of the gang survived, and Rose knew things would only get worse. She slipped out of Ireland and started traveling, was killed multiple times as a nonwhite woman traveling alone. She kept moving, fighting when fought with, or when she came across someone who couldn’t fight for themselves.

That changed in New York, in the early 1900s. Someone fought for her, a stunning butch with gorgeous green eyes and an unmistakably Irish accent. Rose let the woman take her home, check her over, feed her, and after a few days, take her to bed. Jennalynn was the first person in nearly a hundred years that made Rose feel at home again, and she was loathe to give it up. Unfortunately, the pair only had a decade together; a raid on one of their haunts left half the clientele arrested and more than a few dead, including Jennalynn, who was never one to back down from a fight.

She knows there are others like her; Jennalynn had been the one to figure out the meaning of her dreams. She never seeks them out, actively avoiding them when she can. With the loss of Jennalynn seared into her heart, she has no intention of finding them and growing close to anyone she might lose, again. Instead, she stays on the move, avoiding any roots or connections that last more than a couple days.

v; you can’t see it | tog ; cherry

Even though Ancient Greece was definitely one of her special interests, Layla hated having to write a paper on some boring Greek tragedy. She was interested in the people, the politics, the agriculture, not some lame play. Hoping to find something of interest, she started searching for the playwright's muse, hoping this "Andromaque" might be based on someone real.

She hit pay dirt. And then more.

Once she'd slapped together something passable for her paper, she threw herself into the research, collecting everything she could find about Andromache the Scythian, across more time periods than any one person should be involved in. She found others that popped up with her, and added them to her research. She kept all her information on a locked board, hidden in the depths of the web, signing off all her posts with a simple 🍒.

She was devastated when, some years later, her board got nuked, but whoever took her board down had to be an idiot if they thought she hadn't saved every piece of info she'd found to an external hard drive (or five), never to touch the internet. 🍒's Immortals was far from dead.

v; i’ve been quiet for too long | tog ; lily

As twins, they could not have looked more different; Lily with the dark skin of her mother, Jasmine with skin light enough to pass as white. Jasmine was awarded a position in the manor, while Lily worked the fields with her mother, until her mother was sold away. Jasmine started little rebellions then; sneaking extra food out to Lily and the others, framing violent overseers for whatever crime she could. Lily worried about her sister, of course, but Jasmine was all fire and very little caution.

It manifested in a slave rebellion on their plantation, quietly fed by Jasmine over several months. It went as well as many rebellions went; in mass slaughter. Lily was killed three times that night, hating every time she got back up. Come morning, her sister, her other half, her twin was hanged for her part in the rebellion.

Unlike Lily, she didn’t come back.

All of the caution and meekness curdled in her chest, seeing her sister’s body, and that night Lily slaughtered the entire family, still covered in her own blood, before stealing a dress and burning down the plantation. She started walking north and never looked back.

Four hundred years later, Lily is still aching with the loss of her sister, unable to move past the loss of being a matching set. She drinks copiously to deal with the unbalance, and is more than happy to pulverize any racist she crosses.

v; prey on the powerful | tog ; freesia

Ramona María was born in Spain in the mid-1500s, but was still an infant when her parents immigrated to México. As a child, she was promised to the son of a wealthy but politically powerless criollo, offering him some political power in exchange for financial security. Ramona was always too spirited for a proper Spanish Catholic woman, and hated the boy she was later forced to marry. She kept her distaste of him quiet, though, as she was fond of his younger sister. The two became very close companions, before and after the marriage, and Ramona convinced her husband not to marry his sister off, as it would affect his power and income.

The charade did not last long. Ramona bore her husband a son, and while she was still recovering from the pregnancy, she refused her husband’s sexual demands and was killed for it. When his brutality didn’t stick, she happily returned the favor and stole off in the middle of the night with her sister-in-law and son. They went as far north as they could, Ramona pretending to be a widow until she recovered enough to pass as a man. The charade only lasted a few years, as her now lover hated not having the comforts of home, took the child, and returned to their villa. She - and especially the male heir - were welcomed with open arms, and Ramona was mourned as dead.

She passed many years as a man, traveling around the world, happily and quietly killing abusers where she found them. As long as people considered her a man, no one questioned her female companions, either.

v; do you think it’s gonna be that simple | tog ; daisy

Daisy doesn’t talk much about her past; it’s been long enough that she claims she doesn’t remember it. She lost count of the years quickly, knowing only that she was younger than the Rosh Hashanah celebration she stumbled across some hundreds of years later. She was not quite eighteen when she died, brutally killed by her father, who she in turn obliterated when she realized she was alive and well and no longer in pain. She knew better than to stay and started running, and has been running ever since. It became harder as her youth became more contentious - whether passing as a boy or a young woman, she was always too young to be traveling alone. The proliferation of guns and cars were godsends, and she mostly stays in cars now, keeping to places no one will look twice at her, more guns hidden around her than anyone would realize. She’s an assassin for hire, as long as no one sees her face, they don’t object to a young girl having the skill she does with a sniper rifle. As much as she’d love to join others like her, she’s all too aware of how difficult it is to stay under the radar when perceived as a minor, and she doesn’t like the idea of shifting that risk onto others.

v; i’m a nightmare even in the day | tog ; four horsemen

Daisy was the one to find them all, bringing them together out of the vicious loneliness of immortality. Shamira was the one to joke that Daisy must be Death, come to finally escort her home, and Ramona was quick to declare herself War in response. It took some explaining what she meant; Ramona was the only Christian of the group. Once the mythology of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse was shared, Autumn and Shamira laid claim to the last two, Pestilence and Famine respectively. It’s their own inside joke, mixed with the pidgin sign language they’ve formed over the centuries to accommodate Autumn’s hearing difficulties.

v; if the city’s on fire i’ll stand in the ashes | tog ; poppy

All her life, she had known death to be her eventual solace, so when she was finally used and broken past the point of no return, she welcomed the cold embrace of death.

And then she woke up again.

Bitter and hateful, the only escape she'd ever hoped for taken from her, she killed her way to freedom. She was covered in blood by the time she got out, and only some of it was her own. With no strong grip on any recognized language and no connections to the outside world, the nameless girl stole everything she could carry and started wandering.

Whoever got to her first would be the one to set her trajectory for the rest of her immortal life.

v; dedicate my life to something richer | tog ; lovebirds

Her lack of mortality only became an issue when white people showed up. Her original name - and entire tribe - are lost to time, but she has been a thorn in the colonists' sides for as long as she can remember. She was born shortly before the harvest, on what would eventually be called the autumnal equinox in the northern hemisphere, and so eventually adopted the name Autumn for herself.

Even though they had been dreaming of each other for nearly a decade, finding Shamira felt like luck, like fate, like destiny. Though it had taken nearly a century after the demise of her tribe for Autumn to leave her tribal lands, she had never left the continent she was born on. Shamira opened her eyes to the plight of indigenous people on other continents, and as a member of a diaspora herself, the plight of people unhomed everywhere.

The two are inseparable, a balance neither realized they needed in the other, and have been married a hundred different ways in a hundred different places. They recognize no border, no government other than one's own culture, and fight to protect those that have been ground down by supremacist installations.

v; i’d rather be a lover than a fighter | tog ; lavender

She had always been a healer, learned at her grandmother's knee, though a little too fire-spirited to ever stay in one place. Her travels ended her in hot water, killed for witchcraft in a Puritan colony. No one paid any mind when her body disappeared, too wrapped up in their own hysterias. She kept traveling, avoiding white colonies, learning healing tricks from anyone who would teach her. She sailed with pirates, helping their assorted illnesses in exchange for safe passage through waters, shed her given name for that of the woman she learned from most.

Anais learned as much modern medicine as she could, attending multiple universities as soon as black women were allowed to, and marrying the old ways to the new. She offers help to all who would need it, though rarely stays in the same place for too long. Many 'haunted' houses scattered around the world are hers, gardens she tends to when she has time, healing herbs grown wild in her absence. Not all of her plants travel well, after all, and it's always best to grow them in their native soils.

#v; i'm a rebel ; i'm a fighter | the old guard #v; i’m the definition of worn | tog ; rose #v; you can’t see it | tog ; cherry #v; i’ve been quiet for too long | tog ; lily #v; do you think it’s gonna be that simple | tog ; daisy #v; i’m a nightmare even in the day | tog ; four horsemen #v; prey on the powerful | tog ; freesia #v; if the city’s on fire i’ll stand in the ashes | tog ; poppy #v; dedicate my life to something richer | tog ; lovebirds #v; i’d rather be a lover than a fighter | tog ; lavender

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tedwoodward · 4 years

Text

Harsh Words

a Bill/Ted breakup fic

i made this post a while back that sparked a fic

Notes: this is entirely angst i’m so sorry, pre-canon, strangers to friends to lovers to exes in just 3k words!

Summary:

He wasn’t always this way. In fact, it may be hard to believe, but Ted Richards used to be known as a nice person.

In October of 2014 he started a job at CCRP Technical. Ted was a sweet man, always there with a smile and a listening ear. He asked about people’s weekends and seemed to genuinely care about their lives.

And then he met Bill Fisher. And resulting from that, in early 2016, just over a year later, Ted’s personality did a 180. Yes, you read that right. The reason for Ted’s shift in attitude came in the form of Bill. Yes, Bill, the sweet man constantly seen gushing about his daughter, the man who never has a harsh word to say about anyone. That Bill. Or, at least, that’s what Ted Richards would tell you.

Warnings: very brief mention of alcoholism; disagreements and a large argument

Read on ao3

He wasn’t always this way. In fact, it may be hard to believe, but Ted Richards used to be known as a nice person.

Ted had only heard about Bill’s divorce through the office grapevine, which he was not prone to listening to, but there’s only so much you can do to not hear the gossip in the break room. Ted felt for him. His sister had gone through a nasty divorce a few years prior, and he knew how hard the whole process had been for her, especially with the kids involved. He hadn’t planned on approaching the man, but when Bill had been having a rough day and had a minor burst of frustration in the break room due to the coffee machine acting up again, resulting in a loud bang as the side of his fist connected with the counter, Ted couldn’t stand by and not reach out.

The man had nearly collapsed into a chair at the table next to the counter, all the fight having left him in his outburst.

Ted slowly approached him, “Hey… Bill, right?”

Bill looked up from where his hand was supporting the weight of his head and nodded with a small, tired smile, “Yeah. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name. Are you new?”

Ted took a seat across from the man and smiled, “Yep! Just started last week.”

Bill found himself smiling back at the man; wow, he was infectious.

“Well, welcome! And sorry about earlier,” he mumbled, waving a hand in the general direction of the counter, “I’ve been running on caffeine for way too long, and I’m starting to crash. We really need a new coffee maker. I’m so sick of this one breaking all the time.”

He sounded so exhausted, Ted couldn’t help but offer assistance.

“Hey, if that’s the case I don’t mind making a run to Starbucks or something. What can I get ya?”

Bill was taken aback. This guy was too nice! “You don’t have to get me anything!”

Ted waved him off, “I gotta get my own caffeine fix somehow, and if that’s kaputt, I don’t mind grabbing something for you as well.”

Bill was no match for Ted’s generosity, and, with a wink and a promise to return with the fuel they needed to get through the rest of the day, the man disappeared. And Bill couldn’t help but smile after him.

The two became fast friends. It was nice to have someone around who was so caring, and that went both ways. Ted supported Bill through the tough days, and he shared stories about his sister and her kids whenever Bill worried about Alice being caught up in the divorce. Bill helped Ted settle into his new environment and worked as hard as he could to make him feel included around the office, knowing how a new workplace could be ostracizing. They fit really well together.

Naturally, it just kind of evolved into something more. Without realizing it, Bill and Ted started spending much more time together than expected. They stumbled into a relationship one evening after accidentally falling asleep while watching a movie together after work one Friday. The two men woke up with Bill’s head on Ted’s shoulder. After a brief moment of semi-awkwardly staring, trying to read each other’s thoughts, Bill kissed Ted.

Ted let Bill set the pace for their relationship. It wouldn’t be fair to rush right into things, and Bill’s mental health was much more important than anything else to Ted.

Things Bill learned about Ted:

(1) He cares so much.

(2) He can read Bill so well and immediately knows when the other is having a rough day.

(3) Ted was kicked out of the house as soon as he turned 18 and was no longer considered his parents’ responsibility. The only family he keeps in touch with is his sister.

(4) Ted secretly loves musicals, but it wasn’t until a few weeks in as Ted was dropping Bill off at home after date night that the latter recognized Jekyll & Hyde playing through the car stereo, and Ted confessed to his deep, dark secret.

(5) Ted can be a cynic at times.

(6) He gets protective over things that mean a lot to him (for future reference: do NOT poke fun at his favorite movies because he will refuse to speak to you for at least a day and only accept your apology after making you listen to his explanation about why you are Wrong).

Things Ted learned about Bill:

(1) He has so much love.

(2) When he gets excited he is the most adorable sight Ted has ever seen.

(3) He’s not the biggest fan of alcohol due to witnessing the effects of alcoholism on a family member when he was younger.

(4) If you mention something you enjoy, Bill will become an expert on it just so you can bond and have someone to talk to who understands what you’re saying.

(5) His ex-wife had Alice while they were in college, and they had stopped loving each other a while before the divorce. Bill had only wanted to stay together for Alice’s sake.

(6) His love for Alice far outweighs any other power on earth.

And that’s where things got a bit rocky.

Not to say that Ted didn’t like Alice, he was just really protective of Bill. The amount of love that man put out into the world was incredible, but it also made him vulnerable. Ted didn’t want to see him hurt, and he was scared to see what was happening with Alice.

Bill only had Alice with him for a week every month, but his world revolved around her when she was with him. It was adorable to see how excited he was to spend time with his daughter. What wasn’t adorable to Ted was hearing about how much she obviously didn’t even care and how little she paid attention to her dad the entire week.

The first day after Alice left to go back to Clivesdale Bill was always sobered, no longer his usual, happy self. Ted would be there for him, and Bill would recount his time with his daughter. What stuck out as wrong to Ted was how much love Bill poured into his child and how little he got back.

Bill defended her. She’s a teenager trying to navigate life with the addition of a divorced family, it’s hard for her. No teenager wants to spend all week hanging out with their lame dad! (“You’re not lame, Bill.” “Try telling that to a 14 year old.”) He understands. He’s not going to stop loving his daughter because she acts her age.

But Ted doesn’t get it. How could she not see the incredible father in front of her? She treats him like crap and ignores him half the time. She doesn’t deserve Bill.

A few months in, Ted told him this much, and that was the beginning of the end. Their relationship began to deteriorate. Bill couldn’t understand how Ted could say those things about a kid, about someone he loved with his whole heart, his source of joy since college. And Ted’s opinion on Alice persisted in the back of Bill’s mind.

The two started getting into arguments much more often. Bill started to see how Ted took “caring” and “protective” too far. Mixed with Ted’s cynicism, Bill was starting to see how stubborn the other man was. And they found that Alice was a topic Bill would never back down on, regardless of his usual demur response to conflict.

The pair noticed this change, of course they did. And they tried to work through it. Bill began inviting Ted along to the activities he planned with his daughter, hoping he would begin to understand and start to love Alice as much as he did. And Ted agreed to give it a go. He really loved Bill and would do anything to mend their issues, and he truly did want to see the good in Alice. Ted tried to bite his tongue and not judge the girl too harshly. He didn’t dare lash out at her when she gave her father attitude (he wasn’t a monster, he's not about to make a 15 year old cry), but it stuck with him all night and ate away at his mind and his heart so much that he couldn’t hold it in. After Alice had gone to her room for the night Bill walked Ted out to his car to say goodbye.

“I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you for being so great with Alice. You are an incredible partner, and this really shows how much you care. I really appreciate you trying.”

“Bill,” Ted sighed. They both knew what was coming. “How do you do it? You are so loving. How can you just accept the way she treats you?” His tone was soft, his eyebrows scrunched in concern. “She was so dismissive the entire time. It’s not fair that you had to carry every conversation with her and only got attitude back. It’s been eating at me all night. I don’t know if I can listen to her treat someone I love like that.”

The pair stood there with tears in their eyes, holding hands as they silently gazed at each other.

“She’s a teenager, Ted. Every kid is like this at some point, and I’m sure the divorce has just made it even worse for her. But she’s here, isn’t she? She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t care about me. She could easily just stay in Clivesdale, but she comes and visits me. I have to give my daughter love and support, Ted, especially during this time of her life, otherwise what kind of father would I be? A few moments of sass and attitude aren’t going to spoil my love for her.”

Ted seemed to take in what Bill had said. It was clear where Bill stood, and it was up to Ted if he could accept it or not. The couple embraced, and Ted made his way home.

The split didn’t come till another month or so later. The two were once again at Bill’s for movie night, somewhat of a Friday night tradition since they first got together. The movie had finished, and the pair were discussing what they had just watched. Once again, Ted absolutely refused to hear Bill out on the reason he enjoyed the protagonist as a character.

“He has such an annoying arc! Who gives a shit about the fucking love triangle? They spent half the movie focusing on who was going to end up together than they did on the actual plot line!”

“But would you rather he have no personal life outside his job? It gives him humanity to have to juggle both situations. Yeah, it’s a bit cheesy that all the issues climax at the same time—”

“I just think it’s stupid.”

“Okay then, how would you have written it differently and still given the characters believability? If you take out the romantic subplot, you lose the chance to see his soft side in addition to his brooding, professional—”

“Well, they just took it too far—”

“Are you gonna let me talk?” Bill asked.

A beat landed silently between the pair.

“What?”

Another beat as the two looked at each other.

“Are you gonna let me talk?” Bill repeated. “This entire conversation you’ve steamrolled over all of my points and refused to let me even finish my thoughts before telling me why I’m wrong.”

“I never said you’re wrong. I just have a strong opinion on this movie.”

“On this movie? What about all the other times we’ve been in this exact situation? Every time we have differing opinions on something you don’t seem to care about my thoughts.”

“Of course I care!” Ted exclaimed defensively. “I’m sorry if I monopolize the conversation, you know I talk too much. Just stop me if you have something to say.”

“But it’s not monopolizing, you just refuse to listen to me. You never give any counter-arguments other than the fact that it was ‘stupid’ or ‘annoying’ or whatever. You’re so stubborn about everything that you refuse to even listen to my opinion when it’s different from yours.”

“I’m not stubborn!”

“Yes, you are! You are relentless when you have an opinion, and you always have an opinion.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Fuck, I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to have my own opinions. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to be fucking passionate about something.”

The tension in the room was ramping up as the two men started getting angrier.

“You can be as passionate as you want, but—”

“But only about certain things, right? I can’t be passionate about a movie, I can’t be passionate about the way dishes are washed,” Ted began to list, memories from past arguments resurfacing. “I can’t be passionate about my partner’s toxic relationship with his daughter—”

“Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this,” Bill warned.

“Oh, that’s rich. Sorry for caring about you. Sorry for not wanting you to be taken advantage of by an asshole teenager who wouldn’t give two shits if you solved all life’s problems for her. I didn’t realize there was a limit on how much I’m allowed to care about you!”

Their voices were raising. They hadn’t gotten into an argument this explosive before, and they both felt it. But neither of them could back down.

“Don’t you say those things about her. You don’t even know her! You never even tried to care for her. Once you got the idea in your head that she wasn’t worthy of my love, I knew you wouldn’t be persuaded. I hoped and dreamed and tried to get you to see what I see, but you’re too stubborn. You’d never change! You can love more than one person, Ted. Didn’t you know that? My love for Alice does not detract from my love for you, but you know what does? Your jealousy and your manipulation and your bullying of my teenage kid!”

Ted scoffed, “Ha! Jealou— manipulation?” Harsh laughs accompanied his words. “Bill! All I ever wanted was for you to see that there are some people who will take and take your love and use it for their own fucking advantage and will never return it no matter how much care you show them.” His tone turned much darker. “Those people do not deserve your love, but you’re too blinded to see that no matter how much you try, you’re never going to get that perfect father-daughter relationship you want with Alice. Okay? She doesn’t. Fucking. Care.”

The two men stood there, breathing heavy and minds racing as they fiercely stared at each other.

Bill tried to compose himself and spoke with an uneven voice, “You’re an asshole, Ted. We’re done, now get out of my house. I should have ended this forever ago.” He strode past the other, cleaning up the dishes from the table next to them.

“Excuse me?” Ted followed the other man into the kitchen, trying to catch up after being taken aback by his words.

“I said, ‘we’re done’. Grab your crap and get out of here.” Bill refused to look at Ted as he washed the dishes from their dinner. “You can’t talk about my daughter like that. I don’t know why I allowed it for so long.”

Ted stared at Bill for a few moments, and when he got no other response or acknowledgement from the man he let out a deep, angry sigh. “Okay, yeah, whatever,” he clipped.

Ted stormed from the kitchen, shoved his feet into his shoes, grabbed his jacket and bag from the living room, and slammed the door on his way out.

Work was tough. It’s hard to be employed at the same office as your recent ex, if only due to the gossip. Anger was still stewing in both of them at the sight or mere mention of the other, so naturally the entire office knew what had happened by the end of the work day the following Monday.

Bill found solace in Paul who immediately supported his reasoning for the breakup.

Of course Paul would take his side, Ted thought, why wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t the whole office? They all knew Bill much longer than they had known Ted. He’d only worked there for a year, so how much did they really know about his true character? Bill, on the other hand, was a sweetheart. After dealing with a difficult divorce and now a fresh breakup? ‘That poor man,’ they’d all think. Ted fumed.

Everyone was going to take Bill’s side. They’re going to hear all about how Ted was a heartless asshole who hates children, is desperate for attention, and doesn’t care about anyone’s feelings.

You know what? Fine.

Fine. If that’s what everyone expects him to be, then that’s what Ted is going to be. There’s no use trying to get on his coworkers’ good sides when it’s his word against Bill Fisher’s. No. If Bill thinks he’s an asshole, well, all the more reason to become one. There’s no way Ted was going to go through that again. No more wearing his heart on his fucking sleeve. Obviously he’s too passionate when he cares about things, so it looks like he’ll just no longer care about anything. So no matter what fucking bullshit Bill decides to spread around about the breakup, there’s no more reputation to destroy. No, Ted gets to do that himself. That’s one thing he knows he has control over.

#i would like to apologize to alice #ted just has some familial issues he's repressed and hasn't worked out yet #also bill would never spread rumors ted is just stubbornly upset #tgwdlm #starkid #bill tgwdlm #ted tgwdlm #bill/ted #fic #sometimes i write stuff #the guy who didn't like musicals

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til-i-change-my-luck · 6 years

Text

Mini Sterek Fic Rec

@nottooldforthisship sooooo… i made you a little rec. it’s just what i read and reread most often (i’ve probably rec’d half of this to you already and you probably rec’d the other) but i hope you like a few.

Familiar Poblems by BeniMaiko (21.5k)

Stiles thinks he needs a familiar to be a stronger witch. He’s wrong.

Oh my (let me look at those eyes) by Gorgeousgreymatter (41k)

“A few months ago, he might’ve been able to solve this with some force—a little man-handling, a snarl, a glimpse of teeth. But he looks at Stiles’s broken face, knows he’s seen too much horror and blood and evil, the whole Big Bad Wolf routine is just going to fall flat. Because Derek looks at Stiles and he doesn’t carry himself like a teenager anymore. He carries himself like a soldier.”

i can smell it on your skin (i bet i can taste it in your blood) by brokentoy (10k)

Stiles’ cover is blown the day Derek gets hit by Allison’s arrow.

The Price by theroguesgambit (18k)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Miner For Truth and Delusion by blackofade (21k)

Stiles stumbles across what he thinks is a cult in the preserve and ends up cursed so that everyone wants to get with him. It makes it harder for him to get things back to normal, but luckily there’s one person who’s unaffected.

Fault Line by MadcapRomantic (11k)

When Derek comes to, his head hurts.

No, hurts is the wrong word. It’s not strong enough. His head feels like it’s being split in two, down the middle. His ears are ringing, and his vision is blurred.

But despite it all, strong and crisp and clear, is the underlying scent of home, pack, and mate.

brOken by HolyWater (10k)

The day Derek comes back from his trip with Cora, he comes back alone. Stiles is the first one to see him, mouth hanging open slightly after he opens the front door to his house and sees him standing there awkwardly on his porch. He looks the same; leather jacket, permanent scowl, brooding eyebrows… but then again… he looks very different. His skin isn’t as pale as before, he doesn’t have any dark circles under his eyes, and it looks like he…

“You lost weight.”

It was suppose to come out as a question, he swears.

Derek rolls his eyes and sighs. “Nice to see you too, Stiles.”

“I mean, not that you where fat before, like, at all, but you don’t look as… muscle-y.” Stiles finishes lamely.

Wake Up Call by SylvieW (10k)

Derek has nightmares and now that Laura is gone there’s no one to wake him up and comfort him.

Kiss Me on This Cold December Night by Leslie_Knope (19k)

The hairs on the back of Stiles’ neck tingle, and he swallows hard against the unmistakable sensation of someone staring at him. He’s tempted to just ignore it, but after a few seconds, his curiosity wins out and he looks up from his phone instead. He doesn’t notice anything right away, flicking his gaze along the people on the other side of the intersection until he suddenly stops and backtracks. It’s a little hard to see, what with the thick drizzle and the cars whizzing between them, but he would recognize that glorious bearded face anywhere, even after six years. Holy shit.

An Alpha’s Mark by Piscaria (12k)

Stiles never thought he’d get a tattoo – then he found out human pack members could grow stronger by taking an Alpha’s Mark.

Rare Books and Special Collections by KuriKuri (15k)

Derek Hale hates libraries.

Unfortunately, not all books can be ordered on Amazon.

(Or: in which Derek is a grumpy omega writer, and Stiles is an annoyingly attractive alpha special collections librarian.)

Until the end starts by gottalovev (16.7k)

When a distraught Stiles kisses him, Derek stops it for Stiles’ own good. It’s the right thing to do, even though he likes Stiles too. When weeks later Stiles falls for somebody else, Derek is happy for him. Really.

- or: Derek is self-sacrificing and pines like a champ, but eventually gets his happy ending. No partner betrayal.

Strong, Stronger, Strongest by Green (16k)

Close to death, Stiles can choose to die or accept Derek as his Alpha. It’s up to the rest of the pack to heal him and face the Alpha pack threat.

Bite to Break Skin by Leela, Qafmaniac (13k)

“You and Scott decided that the big bad wolf should get a chance to redeem himself, and guess what? I was punished for your bad decisions. Again. I’d say ‘silly human’ but I’m not that either. Not anymore and not by my fucking choice.”

I Just Need You by beckybrit (10.8k)

“Derek?” He’s surprised at how steady his voice is, considering he’s absolutely terrified. It’s been a long time since he’s been afraid of Derek, but the eyes looking back at him now are full of hate and the promise of death. Stiles shudders but steadfastly refuses to look away. “Derek, I know it doesn’t look like it, but it’s me… Stiles.”

The Way We Began (or, What We’re Supposed to Be) by avioleta (20k)

Stiles is attacked and ends up in a coma. Derek is acting strange when he wakes up, and everything deteriorates quite rapidly from there.

But Not With Haste by uraneia (20.7k)

It’s been years since Derek escaped from the hunters who killed his family and bound him in his human form. He travels solo, never staying in one place, keeping under the radar–until a skinny, smart-mouthed kid stows away in the back of his truck.

Four months ago Stiles’s first kiss put his best friend in a coma. His dad gave him a couple hundred bucks and a hug and told him to run. By the time Stiles witnesses the cage fighter known as Wolverine take out a shotgun and its wielder with his bare hands, he’s got a plan. He knows there’s a school in New York for kids like him. All he has to do is get there.

OR, in which Derek is the werewolf version of Wolverine and Stiles is Rogue and the plot of X-Men progresses accordingly, with a few notable deviations.

Testing the waters by grimm (4k)

Prompt fill: “I would LOVE a future!fic where Stiles randomly bumps into Derek, maybe in nyc. He’s in college now or maybe even post college, and this is their first time interacting since Derek left Beacon Hills. Stiles is obviously SMOKING HOT now and Derek finally got his shit together and is a successful 30 something.”

A Story To Tell The Grandcubs by mass_hipgnosis (3.6k)

Stiles asks the stranger standing next to him at the bar for help avoiding his creepy ex boyfriend.

#nottooldforthisship #sterek fic rec #sterek fics #a few of these wont be your kind of fics #but they're the ones i read and reread most often #so i'm rec'ing them to you #hoping you like one or two #that rhymed #like a mini poem #just for you #hahaha #if any of them get added to your #to read #let me know if you liked them

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glowstickhaloboy · 7 years

Text

smoothie klance au?? i guess

you would not guess how many half-written AUs i have in my drafts that become WAY TOO LONG for me to ever consider publishing in a text post. yes this is a short one.

keith makes smoothies for a living. it isnt a big deal until it is.

one night, this dude comes in. who cares about build-up, we all know its lance, and he looks frazzled. he sits at the counter and orders the fruitiest smoothie on the menu. keith makes it and doesnt think much of it, except to note that something about this kid is just... weird?

1: hes coming in alone, which people their age usually dont. 2: hes dressed pretty nicely. 3: hes just sitting there??? drinking a smoothie??? not even scrolling on his phone or anything, just looking around and slurping. okay weirdo. 4: he seems off. keith does not use the word “aura” on a regular basis but lance has an aura. (which does not make sense to keith, who barely understands his own emotions, let alone someone else’s.)

lance thanks keith, and leaves like thirty minutes later. hes certainly not the weirdest customer keith has ever served, but for some reason that random, singular dude sticks out in his mind.

but the shifts come and go, and gradually keith forgets about lance.

until he comes back in again.

its a lot like it was before. lance is dressed nicely, seeming miffed about something, or not miffed, exactly, but hes clearly not happy, and this time he orders a peanut butter and chocolate smoothie, and hes just as quiet as before, only this time hes rapidly tapping away on his phone instead of memorizing the inside of the restaurant, and keith is almost glad because it means he gets to sneak glances at this guy more casually??? like, hes had weird people in here before, and lance definitely isnt the weirdest, but enigma customers are intriguing to keith and he takes what he can get

the third time, its raining. lance is drenched, droplets running down the side of his face and under the collar of his (white, button-up) shirt. he smiles sheepishly at keith from across the room and sits at the counter, nearly having tripped on the way over because he didnt bother to wipe his shoes on the interior mat and created on the floor as he crossed the room.

he orders a strawberry and banana smoothie. keith has been preparing for this. he attempts small talk.

“nasty weather,” he says.

lance nods. “yep.”

god, that was horrible.

keith hands lance his smoothie, his change, and hides at the far end of the counter. lance alternates between staring at his phone and watching the rain hit the windows and slide down the glass. sometimes, he sighs.

the fourth time, its the middle of the day. keith is just getting off his shift, but he imagines himself whipping around and demanding to stay later just so he can serve this random kid he knows nothing about???? his eyes are trained on lance as he walks out the door. he thinks lance glances at him. for the first time, keith wonders if lance comes in when keith is not there.

months pass, and lance comes in on the regular. its clear now that when he comes in, he is not happy. in fact, he seems to be getting less and less happy, judging by the fact that he starts to order mega-sized blueberry blitzes.

and then lance disappears

and keith isnt obsessed with the guy, he doesnt, like, notice except for the fact that he totally does. where the fuck did lance go???

but, you know, whatever. a customer is a customer. keith thinks about him sometimes, but lets it go for the most part.

until he doesnt.

its four more months before lance comes in again. leaves have fallen off the trees and scarves recently appeared in the street overnight. and now, all of a sudden, in an autumn sunset, lance stumbles through the door and throws himself into the nearest chair. keith can hardly believe his eyes.

“what can i get you?” he asks lance, and he thinks lance understands that keith recognizes him. still, lance takes a moment to answer, like he has to pick every part of himself off the ground first. he drags a hand down his face. looks up at the menu. looks down at his hands.

“fuckin... i dont know, man. you ever experiment with ingredients and stuff? like, on your break, you make yourself a smoothie thats not on the menu?”

keith cannot say that he has. “you want something thats not on the menu?”

“yeah...” says lance. “something with chocolate, though. i dont care how much it costs.”

its completely out of place for keith to ask why lance looks like utter shit. hes a smoothie maker, not a bartender. also, he still doesnt even know lances name. and yet.

“what am i trying to fix with this smoothie?” he asks. “rough day? heartache?”

“bingo!” says lance, a bite in his words. he laughs like he wants to die. “dont skimp on the chocolate, man, please.”

keith nods and tries to remember things that lance has ordered in the past (its never been the same thing twice) so he can use that to guess what lance would like. chocolate? what went well with chocolate??? strawberries--people dipped strawberries in those chocolate fountains. and bananas went well with strawberries. strawberry-banana with chocolate. it might be disastrous, might be passable. keith improvises a little on the portioning, delivers the finished product to lance with a pained face.

“i have no idea how this will taste.”

lance shrugs, pays the man, and sticks a straw in it. though keith has other customers, he waits for a reply. lance doesnt give him one. his face is stubbornly unreadable. but, he doesnt choke it back up, so keith doesnt make him anything else. he, regrettably, must now face the other distractions customers.

hes never focused less on what he was making. his goal is to get the order and send it out the door. in the meantime, lance sits at the counter, sucks down his smoothie, and stares at the back wall of the room as though he has recently been hollowed out. keith wonders just what the hell has been going on in this dudes life the past three months.

finally, the line empties out. keith scoots back to lance’s seat. “can i get you anything else?”

lance sets down his 3/4 finished glass (keith has to act fast) and shakes his head.

“we have cookies,” keith offers.

lance snorts into his shoulder. “man, how pathetic do i look? pity eyes and cookie offers and free conversation.”

keith drops all pretense. “what happened?”

lance hangs his head, his shoulders slumping. “i was really hoping that i wouldnt be coming back to this goddamn place for a long time.”

keith doesnt know what to say to that. he knows that it isnt about the smoothies, but he doesnt want to pry directly into lance’s life, so he says, “the smoothies arent that bad.”

“no. the smoothies are great. perfect pick me up. it just sucks that im back to needing pick me ups.” he takes a long sip of schroedinger’s disaster-passable smoothie, and instead of saying anything, keith remains silent, an invitation for lance to explain more. “i used to come in here all the time a couple months back."

“i remember,” says keith, unprompted, because he feels like lance will respond well to honesty right now.

lance raises his eyebrows but doesnt comment. “okay. well, its super lame, and youre going to think im a total loser considering you remember me, but its sort of a personal tradition for me to come in here... after i have a bad date. but i met this dude and we hit it off and we’ve been a thing for almost four months now. and then today...” he makes a soft, sad noise as his hand plummets and crashes on the counter. “he broke up with me.” keith frowns.

“that sucks.”

“yeah,” says lance. “it really, really does. so fuck guys and girls and dating in general for a while. lancey lance is going to take care of himself from now on.”

keith blinks in surprise. lancey lance. “your name is lance?” he asks.

“since day one.”

keith offers what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “keith.”

“well, keith,” says lance, standing, “keep up the good work.”

he slides a five onto the table and heads for the door. keith frowns down at it for a moment. as lance leaves, he calls over his shoulder, “its a tip!”

after that, keith doesnt see lance for a while, but now, knowing why, thats a satisfying thing.

but also, knowing that lance is into dudes and actively looking for love is a worrying thing. keith would have to be blind not to see how attractive lance is, and after their brief but insightful conversation, lance’s happiness is on keith’s wish list. lately, a particular train of thought has been running repeatedly though keith’s head: lance wants someone who is not a jackass; i am not a jackass.

but it would be totally weird for keith to ask lance out. besides, lance isnt coming into the restaurant anymore. keith physically cant ask him on a date. perhaps that is for the best.

and then, one saturday afternoon, the planets align. keith has had a confident morning, business has been steady all day, and he rolled out of bed looking good. lance walks in. contrary to keith’s power mood, lance looks like hes been recently hit by a bus and scraped off the pavement. he makes eye contact with keith on the doormat and gives a rueful smile. keith smiles sympathetically in return.

“maybe im just destined to die alone,” lance says, halfway through his coconut-key-lime whatever. “or i’ll find true love when im like thirty. which would be a bummer. im cute now.”

keith grins. hes leaning nonchalantly on the counter, a cleaning rag tossed over his shoulder. “the world is full of idiots,” he says consolingly.

lance’s eyes bug out. “im one of them!” he protests. “clearly! what am i doing wrong? keith? buddy? my man??? today, my date walked out in the middle of the movie. it wasnt even a bad movie! i have no idea what i did, but clearly she just had enough. i tried texting her, but my messages wouldnt deliver. i think she blocked me.”

“what movie did you take her to see?”

“die a virgin 3.”

“i think i might see the problem.”

“its a tasteful movie!” lance protests. “the whole franchise gets a bad rap because of one bad scene in the first movie, but this one is great! it has keaton lovinsten in it. who doesnt like keaton lovinsten? i was practically drooling over him from the first-- oh. oh. i think i know what might have turned her off.”

keith snorts. “i certainly wouldnt like it if i went out with a dude and he started eye-fucking someone else.”

casually slip into the conversation that you like dudes. good one, keith!

“i wasnt-!” lance turns beet red. “it was a movie! hes a celebrity! and there is no way it was that bad.”

“she clearly thought it was.”

lance’s head falls onto the table. “im hopeless,” he says, but he seems to feel better about saying it now. something in keiths chest settles. he thinks about the alignment of the planets and decides that he cant do this yet. hes going to let the universe keep on rotating, and he’ll catch his opportunity the next time. for some reason, he wants to take this slowly.

so lance continues to make keith’s workplace his lovelorn HQ. keith continues to give him sympathetic pats on the back, one time even literally, and eventually he feels comfortable referencing lance in conversations with others as “my friend lance...”

meanwhile, lance goes on date after date with countless people who are not keith. the jealousy is starting to eat at keith, but he can endure it because he only ever sees lance on the tail end of these tragic romantic encounters, when all lance wants to do is complain about their big noses and loud chewing. still, keith starts to feel like hes playing with fire. on any random day, lance could find someone who makes him very happy, and he would suddenly disappear for good.

on a snowy thursday, lance enters the restaurant with a shiver. he pulls off his mittens and waves to keith, who smiles and waves back over the pigtails of a little girl. when its lance’s turn to order, he appears pleasant, if worn down. he orders extra whipped cream.

“what went wrong?” keith asks good-naturedly, lounging an elbow on the counter.

lance hesitates a moment before answering. he unwraps his whole straw, sticks it carefully in his smoothie, and drinks, before saying, “actually... nothing. i mean, not nothing, but... it wasn’t a bad date this time, it was just, i dont know, weird.”

keith prickles. he doesnt like the idea of lance having a date that wasnt overtly bad. “what made it weird?”

“what was weird was that it was good, but it was with someone bad. well, not bad. hes not bad, he was never bad, but, like, he kind of broke my heart, so...”

keith flashes back to the night lance told him about his bad-date-tradition. he frowns. “your ex?”

lance stirs his smoothie pensively. “yeah. he apologized for a lot of stuff and said hes changed, and, like, i dont know what to do with that. i thought i moved on, but considering im still not seeing anyone, maybe its a good idea to try again. i mean, if its what he wants, and its what i want, then what could go wrong? its not like he was a dick, he was always nice to me when we were together...”

lance’s voice fades out. keith is trying to think of all the ways he can coolly scream THAT IS THE WORST IDEA without sounding suspicious or biased. its a damn good thing that lance is staring into his smoothie instead of at keiths face, because keith is not keeping it together. he had taken too much of his sweet time, and now lance was heading back into a relationship, and keith had to decide if he was going to try to break that up, or watch lance fall in love again.

“how do you know hes changed?” keith asks carefully. “how do you know the same thing wont happen again?”

lance eyes keith for a moment instead of replying. then, he goes back to stirring his drink. “he seemed different. it felt like he had changed. he looked good...”

“you look good,” says keith. lance’s eyes flash up to him, and keith feels his face burn, his mind shouting, idiot! idiot! idiot! “i mean! i mean that you have changed, too, so you shouldnt be hasty about this decision. you should... look at all of your options.”

“do i even have other options at this point? my other option is stay lonely and unhappy.”

“or.” keith licks his suddenly dry lips. “you could try going on a date with me.”

silence rings loudly in his ears. he cant look at lance. he cant believe he just did that. he just said it, just like that, just put it out there for the world to hear. for lance to hear.

lance asks, “do you mean that?”

keith finally looks at him, and takes it as a very good sign that instead of revulsion or discomfort, he sees surprise. surprise and something happy. it gives him the courage to smile.

“yeah,” he says. “i mean it. you could finally see me out of this stupid apron. i mean! you could see me in my normal clothes.”

lance coughs hard into his hand, and keith’s soul withers with the knowledge that they are both currently thinking about keith naked.

lance recovers, albeit with a heavy blush on his face. “i’d like that,” he says. “but, um, just so you know, if it goes badly and you decide you hate me, im buying a blender and making my own smoothies after that.”

“that’s fair, but i dont think it will go badly,” says keith. “let me give you my number.” he pulls a napkin from the dispenser and scribbles on it with a pen, slides the napkin over to lance. when did it get so hot in here?

“thanks,” says lance, folding it and putting it in the pocket of his sweatshirt.

neither of them know what to talk about now.

“um, when are you free?” keith offers. “theres a new exhibit at the gallery that my old art teacher contributed to. its space themed, i think. we could go see it.”

lance nods. “that sounds fun. oh man, this is so awkward. im so sorry. im just still trying to register the fact that you actually asked me out. i did not think that was ever going to happen.”

keith cant help but think, me either. shiro is going to be so proud of him.

and, in a moment of bravery, he decides that he likes to see lance so bashful and awkward. he cant help but press his advantage. keith sticks out a hip, leans forward on the counter, and says, “was i too subtle before?”

but it seems like keith accidentally started speaking a language that lance understood. immediately, lance turns on the charm, a smile stretching over white teeth. keith is only shocked for a moment, and he doesnt let it show. lance says, “a little. thats okay. i like shy boys.”

keith wills himself not to get flustered. “how do you feel about motorcycles?”

“motorcycles?” lance repeats, genuinely interested.

“yeah,” says keith, still smiling. “i could teach you how to ride.”

lance gags a little bit on his straw. keith laughs and leaves him sputtering to tend to a pair of kids who just came in. by the time hes finished making their drinks, lance has disappeared, and in his place is a little napkin with a smiling face and the line: am i your bike? because its easy for you to get my motor running.

keith swipes it out of public sight, grinning, and stuffs it in his pocket.

the date does not go badly. it goes very, very well. keith shows up on his motorcycle, and lance is both impressed and excited to ride it. he hugs keith tight around the middle, whooping loudly, and when they pull into a parking spot, he stumbles off the seat like a champion, drunk on adrenaline, eyes shining. keiths heart sprints. they check out the exhibit and lance amuses keith by making ritzy, intellectual comments such as, “the artist has a certain je ne sais quoi, a, how do you say, need to fuck the canvas” that have keith choking back laughter in an effort to remain respectful. it goes so well that keith has the courage to take lance’s hand halfway through the exhibit, to which lance looks down and says, “gay.” afterwards, even though they didnt plan to, they go out to eat at a diner and split a large order of fries. lance has a unique, deeply personal drink (1/3 mountain dew 1/3 cherry coke 1/3 pepsi with a shot of dr pepper) which he graciously allows keith to try. keith periodically catches himself imagining scenarios wherein he and lance show up on each others doorstep for surprise dates or lounge together half-asleep in pajama pants, lance playing video games while keith watches vine compilations on youtube. afterward, because neither of them want to go home, keith takes lance for a spin on the motorcycle just to feel lance hold onto him, and they end up parking outside a place that is very familiar to them both.

“what are we doing here?” lance asks. he frowns at a large milkshake painted on the window. inside is the counter he’s has spent much of the last six months moping at.

keith checks over his shoulder. “i thought it would be rude to ask if you were coming here after, but if you wanted to, i figured it would be polite to drop you off.”

lance shoves keith in the side, laughing. “shut up, you bastard. you damn well know that this was a good date. take me home.”

keith obediently revs his motorcycle, and they take off together. over the roar of the bike and the wind, keith does not hear lance say, “the best date.”

they arrive back at lance’s house. lance is still awkward clambering off the bike, but its better this time. keith boots down the kickstand, and when he turns back up, lance is right there.

“the best date,” lance says, knowing full well that keith is going to hear him this time. he pulls off keith’s helmet, steps close, and keith only has a flash of realization for whats about to happen before lance kisses him.

“the best date,” keith agrees, awestruck.

“i’ll text you,” says lance.

“can’t wait,” says keith.

lance’s hands are still fisted in keiths jacket. “i think this is the part where you drive away.”

“or it’s the part where i ask if i can see you again. are you free this weekend?”

“if im not, i’ll move plans. count on it.” lance lets his hands fall. “you look good out of the apron, by the way.” he hands keith his helmet. “safety first. dont ruin your face, or i might not go out with you again.”

keith rolls his eyes. “its been a privilege.” he wants to kiss lance again. “see you friday.”

he starts his motorcycle, checks over his shoulder, and kicks off onto the road, leaving lance watching after him. he cant believe its only wednesday.

#klance #klance au #fic #i guess #dont know what else to call it #but take it god its out of my hands now #also dont blame me for the content its 1 AM

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