#originally had this in black and white but decided to wake up early and color it

[cainternn]

yall get me or nah

[kyofsonder]

Find the Word

I was tagged by @on-noon to find a specific set of words in my WIPs, and tag others to keep the game going. Thank you for the tag, the more times I play this game the more fun I have and the more I enjoy the perspective it gives me on my own writing.

My Words: grow, worse, wind, snow, and wake.

I’ll tag @aohendo, @junypr-camus, @starlightscribe, @did-i-do-this-write, and @marinesocks this time. It's also an open tag for anyone else who wants to join, as always!

Your Words: voice, equal, second, purpose, and greed.

I found grow(s) in an original short story WIP, titled “Kiyo”:

Kiyo herself is pretty small, also like me, but her leaves are strong. They're bright red and her vines are a soft orange, so it's less that she grows like a regular plant and more that she spreads like a flame. She's a little wizened, with some crunchy edges of brown on some of her older leaves and a lot of black in her veins, but her roots keep pushing their way down through the soil. Reaching for water or more soil or whatever it is they find for her. The guy selling all those half-neglected plants hadn't acted like there was anything special about this one in particular, but I haven't heard of plants that look like Kiyo... pretty much anywhere.

I found worse in my novel WIP “To Be Honest”, although it does show up in a scene where there’s (magic-related) self-injury and mentions of blood:

The feeling from earlier is practically screaming at him now, rattling his bones until he thinks the vibration might knock him out. The way David had greeted him. The way his voice has been changing. The fact that Micah hasn't been able to see his face this whole time. The repeated circles when he'd tried to walk. Something is wrong. Micah can feel the magic in his own blood, warning him that if he takes too long to figure this out he'll end up trapped here. Not just here in the woods, but somewhere much worse. He can't control his breathing anymore and every spell he knows is gone from his mind. Alright. Fine. Screw patience, then. The witch takes as deep and steady of a breath as he can manage, wincing each time it catches on the way down to his lungs. Without sparing a second more to think, he brings the knife down on his arm at whatever angle fate decides. If he's lucky, it won't catch any major arteries and he'll be able to bandage himself up later.

I found wind in a draft of a Given oneshot fic “Present Tense”:

He steps toward the water, bracing himself against the wind. It isn't cold, somehow, but he still feels like he should be wearing a jacket of some kind. The sound of the ocean makes it feel like Winter, steady and calm. Rolling like the sand, only stronger. Moving steadily. Making itself known. White noise, washing away the feelings of early afternoon sunlight that had been so vivid just a few moments ago. He finds himself sinking into a crouch, closing his eyes again and holding his knees close to himself. He buries his face into his arms. Ah. He wants to sink into this sound. Let it wash him away, too. Out toward the sunset. The gradually darkening blue and fading light pink of nightfall. The warped yellow and orange of a sun saying its goodbyes for the night. He wants to fall into these soft colors like a fluffy bed and rest.

I found snow in a Sk8 the Infinity fic “True or False”, although it shows up in a scene where Langa is experiencing a type of unreality that might affect some readers:

It's quiet for a while, then Langa adjusts himself so he can speak -- still holding as tight as possible, "Sometimes... I have dreams. They aren't like normal dreams. When I wake up, I can't tell if they were real or not. If I was remembering things that really happened, or dreaming things that never did. It feels like I'm awake and just thinking about real memories, but it also feels like I'm asleep and dreaming. That doesn't make sense, but... the dreams don't make sense. They get... it happened for the first time after I got lost on a mountain as a kid. I was out in the snow all night. I kept thinking that I remembered the way back -- then I'd realize that it was the wrong way. The path I remembered was from a dream. No matter where I walked, it didn't get me home. It got... really confusing. Ever since then, I'll get that way again sometimes. Confused from dreams like that, I mean."

I found wake in my novel WIP “Apricots” when the main character is talking about how long it’s been since his girlfriend died:

Noah doesn't let him get away that easily, "The beginning is the day Jess died, whatever day or month or year it was when that happened. I think you know that much."

"Kade's lost track of time since then, too. More than usual. It feels like he started talking to her ghost months before she died, every time he was at her bedside, like he'd already known it was coming. I guess... when her condition... that's probably why you got mad at me. You knew she would die so much earlier than I did. I still don't think you should have blamed me for not knowing. I did the best I could to take care of her. It's been two months and I still wake up thinking I'll take the bus to her place to... I think I'm still not convinced that she's even gone at all."

Thank you again for the tag – there was a little more original content mixed in with the fanfiction this time! I'm learning to balance how much I write between original and fandom projects, which is encouraging to see when I play this game.

[moonshine-nightlight]

Finally Woken: Part Two

Working for the family business of traveling trade caravans, means you‘ve always accepted having to put up with a lot from your family, especially your dad. He finally goes to far when he tries to sell your prized possessions to make up for his own business failings. You’re proud of yourself for making a stand, but he’s not wrong when he says you don’t have any real connections outside the family--but he’s not completely right either.

Your closest friend happens to live in the city you’re stopped at so you decide to see if you can stay at his place until you can figure out what you’re going to. You’ve never come by the city this early, but he’s probably fully woken up from the naga’s traditional bout of hibernation by now, right?

Fantasy, friends to lovers, naga, male monster x female reader, M/F, Part 2 of 8

Story Status: Complete

AO3: Finally Woken Chapter 2

[Part One] Part Two [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Eight - NSFW]

You set your bags more securely against the wall by his foyer, slip off your shoes, and reach for the lamp hanging from a hook. 

Even though the sun hasn’t set quite yet, with the door shut, there isn’t enough light to truly see by. You’re not an accomplished mage, but even you manage to light it yourself. A quick look around with the extra light reveals that the door to his workshop is firmly shut and still locked. The sight sends a pang of nerves through you—maybe he really hasn’t woken up from hibernation yet.

You carefully make your way into the main living area, the light illuminating the soft furniture and low table of his entertaining area as well as the kitchen with its high tables. Everything looks more like a staged play’s set of his house, almost abandoned. The chairs are tucked into the high table, there are no pans or dishes on the counters, no fire warming the oven, all the blankets are put away. 

It's an eerier sight than you were hoping for.

Still, you had known this was a possibility. Hopefully you can wake him up enough to ask to stay, but if not you’ll just crash on his couch for the night. You didn’t have the energy, mentally or physically, to hike back down and find another place to stay.

You pad down the hallway to the back where he sleeps.

“Heshi,” you call out cautiously. 

You hold the lamp up, letting the mirrored backing flash light ahead of you since you don’t want to scare him. Peering around the corner, you look around and find Heshi asleep in his nest. You’ve been back here before—he loves nothing more than to sleep in—but you’ve never seen quite so many blankets and pillows piled in with him. With the flickering light, it takes you a moment to even pick him out of the pile.

It’s his face you find first, his head poking out so he can breathe slowly, even in his hibernation. Then you can make out his long black hair, obviously originally plaited in a nice braid, but gone messy from the hibernation. Then you start to really be able to pick out the rest of him—a brown shoulder, a hand clutching a pillow. Soon you can pick out his characteristic red-sided garter snake coloring: the blue underside of his tail and the red top-side of it too, the blue-ish white stripe down the center of his back glowing slightly with bioluminescence in the dark.

You have no idea how to wake a hibernating naga—or even if you can—but you try his name again before ducking back to grab the pouch from your bags you brought for him. You kneel by his nest, as close to his head as you can get. “Heshi? I’m sorry to wake you up, but I really need to talk to you.” You hold a berry near him before popping it in your mouth, the tart flavor explodes on your tongue. You hope the scent of his favorite treat might rouse him from sleep even if your voice doesn’t. 

You wonder if you should chance trying to shake him awake, but you remember his warnings about touching a sleeping naga too well to risk that much. 

A few more berries and calls of his name later, you’re ready to give up. He’s twitched in your direction and you’ve seen his nostrils flare a few times, but he hasn’t given any other sign of waking. 

You sigh, deflating where you kneel. Turning to eye the door back to his living room, you lean back on your heels. You can spend the night, but after that you won’t feel comfortable staying here without him actually saying it’s okay.

You turn, straightening up on your knees to stand. Some instinct flares in the back of your mind and you freeze. A slender hand reaches over your shoulder to pluck the berry still in your hand. Another arm winds around your waist and you’re pulled back against a firm chest. A deep hum comes from behind you before a sleep rough voice says, “What’s this scent? My favorite berry and my favorite person.” You hear the munch of a berry and then a head nuzzles against you. “What a lovely way to wake up.”

“Heshi,” you sigh, leaning back against him—a wave of gratitude at finally feeling like you aren’t alone anymore. Heshi always gives the best hugs.

He hums again in response, clearly still at least half asleep. “This is a surprise.”

You stiffen a little in his hold. “Sorry. I—”

“A good surprise, silly,” he cuts you off with a sigh, or is it a yawn? “Hm, you’re so nice and warm.”

“You literally just climbed out of a pile of blankets, Hesh,” you reply with an eyeroll at the relatively common compliment. As a coldblooded naga, Heshi frequently commented on how warm you were, using it as an excuse to cuddle up close. As someone from a family where there isn’t much physical affection, you try not to let it show just how much you crave his touch whenever he pulls you into a hug.

He nuzzles closer, wrapping his other arm around you too, before he stiffens a little against you. “It’s—early, isn’t it?” When you don't reply, he helps you turn around to face him. You bite your lip as you look up at him. His brown slit pupil eyes go from sleepy and half-lidded to fully open as he blinks at you, taking in your expression. His hand, claws neatly tucked away, comes up to cup your cheek. His voice is soft and serious when he asks, “Darling, what’s wrong?”

“Um.” You aren’t sure what to say now that your friend is awake and asking. “I was wondering if maybe I could stay with you tonight? Or maybe even a little longer?”

His brow furrows as he looks at you, confused by the question. “I, of course, but—why?”

“My dad…” He bristles at your words. His nostrils flare as his tongue slips out to better taste the air around you. “He, uh, well, he finally pissed me off enough, I guess.” You give a little shrug, not sure how else to say it. When Heshi just stares at you, you add, “So I quit?”

“You quit,” he repeats, eyes wide with surprise. 

“Yeah,” you nod aggressively enough his hand falls from your cheek to land heavy on you shoulder. “Left the family business and everything. I still have to grab the rest of my stuff and I have to train one of my cousins, but yeah.” It's such a relief to say it, to tell someone else, someone on your side completely and you know Heshi always is that, sleepy and slow on the uptake as he is now. “I didn’t want to stay there another night.”

“So you came here?” His voice is soft and he sounds almost flattered. “To me?”

“Yeah,” you reply. Your own voice gentles in response to his. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course,” Heshi says, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Yes, good. Of course, you can stay with me as long as you want. I—” His words are cut off by a large yawn which shows off his fangs and he slumps forward. He picks his head up, shaking it as he blinks rapidly. “Its just a little early for me. I promise I’ll—” he yawns again, “be happy to finally put your family in their place or help you get your stuff back, just need to wake up a little more.”

You laugh at your sleepy friend. “Heshi, I don't need you to do anything to my dad. But I appreciate you letting me stay while I figure out something more permanent. I hadn’t exactly expected this to happen.”

Heshi laughs, the sound low and warm. He pulls you closer and sighs at how warm you are. His bare chest is pressed up against yours, his arms around you too—like an extended hug as he slumps against you. “’Course not. Always too nice about your dad. Never thought he would—” he yawns, “do whatever he did.” He yawns again and this time so do you. 

He hums. “You need rest too, after such an exhausting day.”

“It’s barely even sunset,” you protest, but with him wrapped around you, its a hard sell even to yourself. And it's not as if he’s wrong about how long this day has felt ever since you got back from lunch and found your dad trying to steal from you. At least he hadn’t actually managed to hock your loom and even though it’d taken up an entire bag once disassembled, you carried that with you tonight.

“Are you tired?” he asks, as if it’s that simple. 

Perhaps it is. Heshi’s good at cutting to the heart of a matter—no worrying about how things should be like you did. “Yeah,” you admit.

“Then I command, as owner of this dwelling, that in order to stay here, you must go to sleep if you’re tired,” he proclaims in a haughty tone that would be far more effective if he wasn’t flopped on top of you with his eyes closed.

You giggle. “Alright, alright. Let me go, you limpet. I need to get my sleep clothes.” When he pulls back to pout, you interrupt him before he can say anything else. “Here, have a snack.” You reach down to grab the bag with the remaining berries. His sleep clothes might be similar to his usual clothes, but you had no desire to sleep in your current clothing, sweaty from your walk up here carrying so much, nor in your chestband. 

He hisses in delight as you plop the bag in his outstretched hand and you laugh again, already feeling so much lighter than you had before he woke up. Nothing’s been solved and yet your future feels solid again. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

It doesn’t take you long to pick up the bag with your clothing, duck into the washroom to freshen up, and then drop your things in a guest room after you’ve changed. Clad in your long shirt and shorts, you pad back to Heshi’s bedroom in time to see him ineffectually trying to find more berries in the pouch than there are. You walk over to him laughing under your breath just loud enough to get his attention. 

He blinks slowly at you, obviously still more than half-asleep, as if he thinks you might be a dream even though he’s holding the berry pouch in his hand. “I’ll take that,” you say, accepting the pouch and handing him a glass of water. Your memory of him saying waking up from hibernation always made him thirsty appears to be true as he drinks greedily. “So, where are you in your hibernation cycle?”

Once he’s finished drinking, he sets the glass down, his red tongue distracting as he licks up any drops that he’d missed. “Near the end, but not done,” he sighs, making grabby hands at you until you’re close enough for him to reel you in. Your face heats with a blush and he sighs, rubbing his own cheek against yours for the extra warmth. He’s not usually quite so forward or needy with the touches and you figure it’s another sign he’s still in hibernation mode. 

“Sleep again, now,” he sighs, pushing into the crook of your neck more firmly. “Will probably start waking up for about an hour the next few nights, then longer and so on. Need to replenish energy stores—eat and drink.” His strong, lean arms wrap around you more tightly. “Stay extra warm until its sunny enough out to sunbathe. Then hibernation is over.” He yawns and so do you, unable to help it. “Nothing else besides that since I don’t have a mate. Get back to work, but I don’t want to think about that now. Now it's still time to sleep.”

He starts to sink back down into his nest, the majority of his tail never having left, and you take a step forward with him. Then you stiffen in his hold, your blush returning. “Okay, Heshi. Sounds good.”

“Yes,” he hisses, pleased with your agreement. He moves further back and down.

It's that next move that you really resist, no matter how tempting the nest of blankets looks. “You gotta let me go, Hesh.”

“Why?” he pulls back a bit with a pout, his eyes barely open. “You’re so nice and warm. Sleep in my nest with me.”

“Heshi…” You try to ignore how tempting the offer is, but you’re worried he’s only making the offer because he’s still mostly asleep. It’s not you, just your warmth. At least, that’s what you try to tell yourself.

He must be able to sense you’re wavering because his voice melts even smoother, “You woke me up, you should help me get back to sleep.”

You laugh, but you take another step closer, leaving you at the lip of the nest. “You can’t fool me, you’re more than halfway there already.”

“Maybe, but you’re so warm,” he reiterates, his eyes large and pleading, a pretty pout on his lips.

He’s sleep ruffled and adorable. You eye the nest in the slowly shrinking light of the lantern. “You’ve got plenty of blankets in there.” Your eyes land on one of the closest ones and you feel a thrum of pride when you see it's one you gave him a few years ago. 

“But they’re not as warm as you are,” he replies and well, he’s not wrong. “Please, just for tonight. You haven’t had a real good sleep unless you’ve slept in a true nest, not one of those flat squares,” his nose wrinkles in disgust.

“Oh, so now you just wanna make sure I have a good sleep, hm? Totally selfless, is that it?” you tease. He unwraps his arms from around you only to grasp your hands and pull them over the edge as he sinks further down.

“Yes,” he almost purrs. You have no idea how a giant half-snake can sound so much like a cat. “You deserve a good sleep after today. Please, darling?”

He senses the moment your resolve dissolves, his eyes lighting up as you nod and blow out the lantern leaving only the hint of light from his bioluminescent scales that are still above the surface of the blankets. “Come here,” he says, as he pulls you in, more than strong enough to support your weight as you blindly attempt to follow him in the nest.

In barely any time at all, you find yourself on your side next to him and under the first layer of soft blankets. He tucks his head back between your neck and shoulder, his tail between your feet, his arms wound firmly around you. It's immensely wonderful to have him clutching you close. You feel safe and wanted and content. “You gonna let me out in the morning?” you joke, but whatever Heshi murmurs in response is too muffled against your skin for you to make it out.

You huff out an amused breath, letting your own exhaustion keep your thoughts from running rampant, unable to deal with any more emotional upheaval about just how much you’re enjoying being exactly where you are. You carefully push one hand into his silky smooth hair, the braid loose enough to allow your fingers in easily. The other lands on the firm muscles of his upper back, the scattered scales only obvious in the mild texture they have. He sighs into your embrace. You feel all your stress and worry melt away.

Maybe Heshi was right and all you really need is a good, long sleep.

[Part Three]

[prettyboykatsuki]

am i warm enough for you?

➳ tags ;; soulmate au, strangers to lovers, fluff and angst but mostly fluff, some-what canon compliant, bakugo katsuki is bad at feelings, lots of Feelings™, you guys are adults but the end of the fic but the fic is sfw, alcohol, drunk confessions

➳ wc ;; 5.6k..

➳ plot summary ;; you see your soulmate in dreams - sometimes in bits and pieces and other times in full. bakugo is less than inclined to admit he even has a soulmate - and you learn how to cope with it, one day at a time.

bakugo learns that this soulmate shit is no joke. that has to be why he keeps falling for you so helplessly.

➳ a/n ;; i wasn’t even gonna comeback this early but it felt so wrong not to post on my bfs birthday so alas </3 for anyone who cares to know this is @elysianseraph but with my new url. nice to see u all <3

this was originally posted on 4/20 but im reposting cause it didn’t show up in the tags dskjds

It’s hazy.

A cloud of smoke settles over your body, permeating your lung. It smells like sugar, like burning, like smoke and a little like leather. You can feel your toes curl and your hands moving but your body is separate from you in a way you can’t describe. It’s a pleasant kind of warmth that spreads, creeping up from behind your neck till it’s soft and cradling your skull. It’s soft like the touch of a mother, like wool over your ears.

It’s a pleasant feeling, that’s all. Almost cozy but there’s a fading sense of distress that chills in your lungs as you encompass it. Your hands are too small to reach forward, and truthfully the sensation is so powerful that you’re afraid to reach out. You’re 6 years old, so all you know is how it makes you feel. You can’t remember many details, but you feel pleasant. Something about it is soft, but there’s a sharp edge right at the end that has your lungs gasping for air.

It’s a flash of colors. Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red. Orange. Red.

And then it fades into a feeling again. A blurry feeling. You feel conflict, then concern, then inadequacy in heavy waves almost like it’s drowning you. It’s the first time you’ve experienced such a pain, so your wailing and wiping tears away with chubby fingers and saying a name you don’t know and can’t remember.

Ka. You know the sound, Ka. But you don’t know of anything more. It repeats rhythmically in your mind like a knock on the door, rapping with urgency - but it doesn’t do anything to jog your memory. Someone is trying to be let in but you don’t know how to answer them, and you’re still crying. The distress, the inadequacy shakes you and all you feel is frustration in short simple bursts.

Your first encounter with your soulmate is written this way in your memory. A sense of urgency laced with frustration - but they’re not towards you. It’s him, his feelings - you can feel them even deeper then he can. They pierce you in a way that makes it hard to breathe, no matter how you try to escape them it’s an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. The only way to escape the feelings of a dream is either to control them, or to face them and swim through the fog.

Soulmates have an urgency to them, in general. His is different, you can tell as much. Your first soulmate dream leaves the heaviest impression and each one thereafter is like pieces of a puzzle.

Sometimes you simply share random dreams, like a split screen in a video game - the two of you witness different parts of the same dreamverse. Other times, and honestly - most times, you’re experiencing their emotions or feelings. You experience their core memories, their life, in flashes and bits and pieces.

It’s not enough to know them or who they are, it’s like know everything about them except the things that matter

Sometimes you meet too. Just barely.

MEETING 1:

The room is white. When you blink, colors flash in order - red, pale yellow, orange, forest green and you know. You blink a few more times, stretching your hands out in front of yourself. Curling your hands into fist then into stretched palms, you lean forward and stretch. You wriggle your toes - notice you're wearing shoes. Clothes from your closet. Strange.

You take a look around the room but there isn't much to see. There’s a wall in front of you with a glass divider and a mirrored empty room. The room across from yours has spiky decor littered against the walls. An orange dresser, plastic grenades and play guns. You know who it is without a second warning - and a foggy part in the back of your head tells you that it’s him, again but with more force. You don’t see anything in your room, but you figure he might. All of it is confusing to you.

Before you can blink, there’s a loud thud coming from the other side of the glass. It’s a silhouette, the outline of a face - but nothing clear. Dream logic dictates you can’t know a face you’ve never seen, yet somehow you know his outline. Spiky, he’s spiky everywhere.

“Hello?,” you call out, overly tentative. The figure pauses, seems to take in whatever they must be seeing. You’re not sure what response you’re expecting, really. There’s no expectations at all.

“...Who the fuck are you?,” says a pitchy, male voice. He sounds like he’s your same age, a highschool boy. His throat is rough, yet not overly deep. It’s almost scratchy.

“Uhm,”

You’re not sure how to reply. You can see him through the glass, but not really. Still, you take note of his shadows like they’re going to tell you anything more. You shove your hands in your pockets, messing around with something inside.

“Uh.. your soulmate, I think,” you reply.

Scratching the back of your neck as an awkward silence settles, you take a few minutes to try and figure what more to say.

“We met when we were kids once too,” you explain awkwardly. He must know, has too - this soulmate thing is a two way thing, but his silence is deafening. You just want to feel this space. Is it always this awkward?

“Red. Orange. Pale Yellow. Forest Green,” you repeat, like a mantra. You hear him take in a sharp breath, and freeze. For some reason, you’d like to avoid upsetting him. He doesn’t seem like he’s taking to the information too well.

“I don’t have time for this damn bullshit… whatever quirk you’ve got to mimic this - cut it the fuck out,”

Hostile.

You pause, not sure how to feel. Half of you is offended, the other half is confused - had you done something to upset him? You can feel how he feels - but you don’t understand it. You sit with your mouth agape, like a fish out of water. Unsure of how to proceed, you scoff a little.

“Woah.. this isn’t a quirk thing. We’re.. soulmates? That’s already a thing,”

More silence. You’ve.. he doesn’t seem upset, but you can tell he’s not all that keen to the idea. It’s a bare minimum improvement that you find yourself valuing, without your consent. He breathes again, throat even more hoarse than before. His voice is angry but it doesn’t fit his responses, his feelings - so you don’t pay attention to his madness. Something is off.

“... I’m not supposed to have a soulmate. No fucking way I have a soulmate,” he grits. You step back, stumbling. You didn’t have any expectations.. but this wasn’t what you had been expecting at all. You feel uneasy, sick. It must be a shared feeling if the way he leans against a wall counts for anything.

A beat of silence passes before you open your mouth to speak.

“... I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to that,” you admit. He scoffs.

“Nothing you damn extra. Leave me the fuck alone,”

You don’t reply, too stunned. This was your soulmate? This.. asshole? Not that you were a peach entirely either, but this was supposedly the person that the universe had decided for you?

You shake your head. Maybe you’re just being rash? He could be a nice guy behind all the chaos. You try your best to hold onto that, that this was literally someone chosen for you before you gave up all hope. You sigh, cracking your neck.

“You can say whatever you want but.. we’re here, you know? It’s more productive to just go with it.. isn’t it?,”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“After meeting you, I’m not exactly over the fucking moon about it either. It is what is,”

“You’re not my fucking.. soulmate or whatever the fuck. Leave me alone,”

Your heart both aches with anger and sadness. You don’t know what to do. What does this shit-head know about you, anyway? You know he’s been through some shit, same as you - what makes him so entitled? You swallow the lump in your throat. It hurts. It pierces. Stupid soulmate bonds.

“Yeah? Alright. Fuck you too,”

You see him pace around for a longer before he disappears in a cloud of smoke. You didn’t even catch his name, and you’re not sure you wanted too. It must be morning, but at least you're away from him. It feels lonely, but it must just be you.

Your eyes flutter open but your heart is heavy with regret. You don’t know who it belongs to, but you’ve got class in an hour and not enough time to think about it. If he doesn’t want to meet you that’s fine.

It’s fine. Not like you wanted to meet your soulmate anyway.

__

You don’t have another meeting with your soulmate for months. Lately your dreams have little if anything to do with him or where he is, how he’s been. You have some of those split screen ones, where you know he’s there but neither of you acknowledge each other, even in spirit, like how you did before. When you wake up feeling angsty, you don’t know how to distinguish the feeling but you don’t try.

You wonder idly if he can feel your apathy, if he cares enough too. Maybe he also mistakes it for his own? It seems likely.

It’s a weekday where you’re getting ready for remedial classes at your school. First year advanced courses were no joke, and you find yourself regretting your choice to participate in them.

Still you get dressed anyway, put your uniform on and brush your teeth - wash your face with your eyes half open and look presentable. No one's home in the morning, the house is empty of any life but you. Food becomes a last minute priority, so you make an egg sandwich with cheese and eat it on the way to the train station.

You stare down at your feet as you step outside, music drowning out the noise of your surroundings aptly. The walk to the station is long and the ride is longer, but the streets are packed edge to edge. Musutafu is busy this time of year - the U.A. Sports Festival is taking place today and everything seems to reflect that. You barely manage to squeeze past all the strangers on the subway - clearly on their way to see it.

When you get to school, you're greeted by a mostly empty classroom with a teacher. These classes were straightforward as always, do the work you need to correct, have it approved and leave. It repeats until your finished with all the assignments and you get to be done. You give a respectful nod to your teacher before grabbing your work from your bag.

It goes on and on - occasionally, you hear an excited gasp and quiet chatter from classmates. It’s about the festival, the happenings - but you’re too caught up in completing your work that day and trying to get the fuck out of their as soon as possible.

Shit like that didn’t matter to you, anyways. It’s just a festival.

You leave around the same time the festival seems to have ended, the streets flooded with people - you miss the first station and wander towards an electronics store a block away from your highschool.

It’s the winners on TV. A guy with split hair - Shouto Todoroki, Endeavors son. A guy with a bird head, and a blonde with red eyes - muzzled to the pole.

When you see them, your heart stops. You can feel anger, an unfamiliar rage and humiliation building in your chest. It feels the word has stopped as you watch from afar, through screens. Your soulmate seems upset about something, but you wouldn’t know what.

And that blonde on TV, you wonder if you know him from somewhere.

MEETING 2:

Red.Orange. Pale Yellow. Grey. Black. Forest Green. Red. Red.

You feel him before you even know what’s happening - and it catches you completely off-guard. You haven’t had a proper soulmate dream in two years. Smoke clouds your lungs, the taste of sugar burning your tongue as you cough yourself into awareness. This time, you’re not in a room but it’s a campground. In the middle of the space is a bonfire, burning warmly. This one feels more vivid, more real.

But you know it’s not, your body feel unusually light and your hands can’t hold anything for too long. You know it’s a dream, but you sit in the chair anyway. It feels like you're floating. You feel oddly warm. Dread builds in the pit of your stomach. Even though it’s been so long since you’ve spoken to your soulmate - you can’t forget the terrible first encounter. It sticks to the roof of your mouth - a bitter memory that fills you with unexplainable, irrational resentment.

But it’s not like you hadn’t been seeing him, to an extent. You’ve seen all his memories in bits and pieces - all of them tragic and painful. This time, you see people but they come in the form of small scraps. Spiky Red. Electricity. Tape. Pink with Horns. Music. Green. So much green and red - like Christmas, you’ve called it. You’ve seen disappearances, fear, anguish - so much anguish.

In the weeks after All Might’s fall, you were in so much pain - you couldn’t stop crying for days. It’s been enough time to know what feelings were yours and which were his - and these ones felt so much like him. It went on for nearly a year - you’d almost got accustomed to it. If tears showed up to blot the ink of your lecture notes, you didn’t think twice about it. You tried to keep yourself calm, steady - in hopes you could lend your soothing to him. Even if he hated your guts, you could barely believe so much sadness could exist in one person. You didn’t know what happened but whatever it was - it must’ve been terrible. At the very least, you felt sympathy.

Sympathy was enough to get by for a long time. A neutral, level-headed sympathy that helped soothe some of your own hurt.

All that said, you were hardly expecting to see him again - especially not this soon. You don’t remember the last time you thought about him in anything other than passing - actively. It’s one thing to know what's happening - you’ve felt him passively everyday for damn near two years.

But it’s another thing to see him in front of you, force yourself to acknowledge him as your soulmate even if he insists on not doing the same.

You squirm in your chair, noticing that you’re wearing PJ’s instead of clothes. Just a hoodie and sweats, none of which fit you quite right. You pull your sleeves over your hands, fiddling with the stray strand of thread loose.

“What the fuck is this shit?,”

Your stomach drops. Unsure of what to say, you opt to say nothing at all. Just let him be, sit quietly in your dreams and mind your business. Maybe he’ll wake up soon and it’ll all be over.

You can’t see him from the corner of your vision but you can hear him shuffle. The way he touches things, noticing how they make noise but don’t feel quite right in his hands. How it feels real but doesn’t, how it is real and isn’t. Surely, he’s noticed you by now. The lingering silence makes you squirm.

“...It’s you,”

You flinch, lifting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. His expression is unreadable, but it’s different from before. In a fleeting moment, something occurs to you.

You can see him. What he looks like. Blonde with red eyes, and a sharp chin and thin waist. You know it must mean you’ve seen him before - perhaps you’d even seen each other, but for your life you can’t remember where you’ve seen his face. It’s right there, on the edge of your mind, but you’re stumped.

“Hello?,”

“Oh,” your reply comes short, strained. Your eyes flutter as you press your lips into a flat line. “Uh, hi,”

The blonde sits in the chair, slumping down. His eyes go towards the flickering flames without another word and you decide it’s best not to engage. It stays like that for a while, a beat of silence - not awkward but not comfortable, passing by without another thought. It all feels real, present - not like normal dreams. This must be the special kind of soulmate thing you find yourself feeling resentful towards.

His eyes are heavy. Relief is overwhelming him, with an iron grip and he’s worried you can feel it. If you can, you don’t say a word.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,”  he admits.

The words sound tender passing through his mouth, unmistakably so - but you don’t get your hopes up. Instead, you give him a placating laugh, leaning forward towards the fire and mirroring him.

“I didn’t think so either,”

When it falls silent, it feels comfortable. It’s not like either of you have anything to say to each other right now, with no manual on how this was supposed to go. If he even wanted to go there.

“I can.. see you,” you start. He squints.

“You couldn’t before?,”

This takes you by surprise. You shake your head.

“No..Could you? See me, I mean?,”

Bakugo feels heat rise to his skin. Oh. Huh.

“Yeah,” he replies, a sharp inhale leaving his lungs “I can see you,”

There’s something tense in the air. It’s a strange sensation - to know the deepest and most intimate parts of someone without even knowing their name proper, or where they went to school, or what they normally eat for breakfast. All that connects you are these mutual feelings, shared grief that holds you two to the title of soulmates. This odd bond.

“..d’ya still think I’m a quirk wielding villain?,” you laugh, or try too - you’re doing your best to cut the tension. He can feel your hurt all the way from your sit, so deep in his gut - it’s been haunting him for years. How many nights of sleep he’s lost knowing there are soft and helpless tears coming from these suppressed feelings. He doesn’t know how to say sorry, so he sighs and rubs the back of his neck. He’s changed a lot in two years - but not enough to be good at this.

“No, I don’t,”

“Oh,”

He smiles, just a little. It’s gentle, casts shadow on his face from the light of the fire. It’s warm, everything feels warm and better and invigorating. When you look at him and his uneasy expression - you know he feels it too.

“By the way, uhm - what’s your name? Ka.. something? Right?,”

His eyes shoot up in surprise. He nods a little.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” he replies, expectantly. You seem surprised that he wants to know yours.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” comes your reply.

“Nice to meet you,” says him, Bakugo - your soulmate.

“Nice to meet you too,”

__

Getting to know Bakugo is unusually easy. You get the feeling it wouldn’t be, in the case that you were anything but soulmates - but Bakugo has never known being this intimate with someone other than you. Despite himself, how much he hates himself - you never seem too. Even though you feel and see all the ugliest parts of him - have since he was small enough to still be innocent, you always treat him the same.

Your conversations are short, and shallow. Regardless, he’s not used to talking so much about himself. But you’re always curious, so much so Bakugo doesn’t have the heart to see your countless questions go unanswered.

You keep a little notebook of all of your encounters. You remember them by heart but write them down too, just in case you miss something. You ask about his friends - Spiky Red and Soft Green, referring to them that way even after you’ve known their names. You ask about his work - the life of a dangerous hero, and if he ever gets nervous flying through the air.

Admittedly, he’s mean to you. He teases you so frequently, he’s lost count of all the times you’ve huffed and puffed at his sarcastic remarks. Still, you never turn away from him. You stand with your foot down and your arms crossed over your chest - insistent on making him feel flustered too. And it works, somehow - because you know all too much about Bakugou and always gets him right where he’s most conscious about. You don’t have to tease him about his feelings since you know them like the palms of your hand.

But these shallow conversations always mean a little more to him that he knows how to verbalize, and half the time he doesn’t need to do that at all. You’ve learned the masterful of working around him quietly, making all the parts of that feel too big to love - something small and fragile. Somehow, you’ve made being with him, even as friends - feel like less of an impossible feat but a dream.

Katsuki Bakugo has been in love with you since he was 6 years old. There must be some feelings we cannot share with our soulmates, because he has no idea if you feel it or not. He just knows he does, somewhere deep in the cavern of his heart, he loves you.

You never cross the barrier of romance with him, though. A paralyzing fear seems to settle in your bones when you breach too close to love and intimacy - and Bakugo understands those feelings, even if he doesn’t know exactly why they’re there. It’s not something you’ve decided to tell him yet, but he feels it in the same way he feels your loneliness. You may be kind but you’re more guarded than he is, and not fearless but reckless.

But he still finds himself aching to love and be loved by you, no matter how much he hates it. The yearning still manages to swallow him, even late into the night.

MEETING 3:

It’s been a while since your last meeting with Bakugo but not long. You were 21 now, but your dream visits were frequent. When you weren't speaking or seeing him through dreams - you were watching him on TV. You’d been yet to meet with him in real life but to you, that was okay. Seeing him like this had been more than enough.

Today was different. Normally, that bonfire was always a back-drop to these little encounters but it was a field today - a filed with rolling hills and hundreds of flowers and tall grass that made you feel itchy. The sun was permanently stuck right before it set but it was so warm everywhere. When you get there, there’s a blanket on the top of one of the hills. You sit on it cautiously and watch the wind pass. Everything is tinged orange, and red - you know he’s there with you before he appears.

When he does, he seems different. You glance over at him as he stumbles towards you in a stupor, and when he does finally sit - you get a whiff of alcohol coming from his neck and mouth. It’s strong enough to make a little dizzy. Blinking owlishly, he sits crisscross besides you, staring a little at the surroundings.

“..the fuck?,” he slurs. You can’t help but break out into a laugh. He nearly falls over, body swaying so you bring his head down to your shoulder wordlessly, a furious heat running all over your skin. Even though you can’t feel him, the gesture makes you feel something in your belly.

“Why’re you so drunk?,”

“Birthday,” he mumbles. Your eyes widen in surprise. Bakugo is seemingly unfazed, eyes drooping with tiredness. He’s completely inebriated.

You feel yourself grow tender. You’d have to wake up and remember the days date. Despite all the times you’ve met, you had no clue about his birthday or how he celebrated. You feel your heart ache at the idea you’ve spent the latter half of it together, in your own way.

“Happy Birthday, Bakugo.”

“Bakugo this, Bakugo that,” he growls, a little incoherent “We’re supposed to be fucking soulmates and you still call me by that.. damn name.”

He hiccups a little as you sit there stunned. You blink.

“.. You think of us as soulmates?,”

“Are you some kind of moron?,”

You scowl, flicking his forehead with your thumb and forefinger. He makes a noise of indignance.

“Well, how would I know? When we first met, you didn’t seem enthused about it,”

Bakugo sighs tiredly.

“I was 15 and an asshole - clearly I don’t fuckin’ feel that anymore,”

You seem surprised again.

“..You don’t?,”

Instead of swearing at you, he closes his eyes and gets closer to you. The liquor runs through his system like liquid courage and he nods a little.

“Not at all,”

“What do you..”

“What do you think I mean?,” he barks a laugh. You feel your pulse under your skin, drumming against your chest like a hammer. You can’t even breathe.

You’ve had feelings for Bakugo from the second proper meeting you’d had with him. It was clear as a day that he was your soulmate for good reason, that inexplicable draw that kept your heart from ever belonging to anyone else. You tried to - tried to go on dates and see other opportunities through but he was always so one of a kind.

Yet, you’d given up all hope that it would mean anything to harbor these feelings, convinced that Bakugo simply wasn’t interested in you In doing any of this. You didn’t want to force him into something he didn’t want - so you kept your distance with hope that he’d still be in your life. It was enough, or you’d wanted it to be.

It’d be a lie to say that you hadn’t started thinking about it more and more as the days pass. What it would be like to see him, touch him and love him and be with him for real - these passive daydreams gone vivid. If he could see your dreams, he must know about them. But you didn’t know how to approach it - how to approach love at all.

That’s the thing with soulmates. You’re told that you’ll just have the answers, destiny will do the hard work but that’s far from true. Because even now, with Bakugo leaning  on your shoulder with this confession lingering in the air - you don’t know what to do.

“Stop being so nervous,” he mumbles. You stumble a little over yourself.

“Sorry,”

He chuckles.

“You really need me to say it, huh?,” he sighs. He picks himself. If he’s drunk and reckless, then fuck it - he’s gonna take it all the way. He drops his head onto your lap with a tired sigh.

“I think you’re my soulmate, you fuckin’ idiot,” he admits.

And it’s hard to say, because feelings don’t come easy for Bakugo Katsuki - but it’s the least he can do. All Bakugo Katsuki has ever known is to be lonely. It’s a loneliness that he’d forced on himself. Bottling up all the anger and sadness and swallowing it. It’s long since sunk it’s claws into him. That overwhelming, all consuming ugly feeling that lingers underneath that superiority complex.

That no one would ever, could ever love the ugliness that lingers in him. That no one who knew him for what he truly is, could care for him. Deku was the first of many disbeliefs and not much had changed.

Except for when it did. Except for when he met you - in a dream, and you were real and beautiful even at 15. That the universe hadn’t been playing some sick joke on him when he kept seeing you in his dreams, so soothing to his teenage loneliness. You were real and that was so fucking scary.

But you loved him anyway. Looked out for him when he was at his lowest - the soothing beat of your heart  in the days after All Mights end . When he cried himself into sleep and dreamed of you. God, how he dreamed of you. Not especially romantic dreams, but dreams of how you made breakfast. How you watched cartoons on Sunday and read manga in your classes instead of the assigned work. How you fell asleep on the train station and always ate icecream after big tests. How you were especially mundane and how he got to be apart of that everyday routine.

After all, you see dreams of each other, but Bakugo has no clue what your dreams of him look like. His have always looked like you though.

When he was worthless and empty and unable to give you anything meaningful, to apologize or put his pride away - you had loved him anyway. Felt for him with clumsy hands and held on, not letting go. Even when he was begging for you to leave him alone, in fear of this all being nothing more than a cruel dream - you held on tightly to him. With your silly notebook questions and dumb names.

Bakugo Katsuki has never known what it means to love someone who isn’t you. Even if you found someone else and there was someone better than you for him, he would grit his teeth and bear it. He wonders if he’ll ever believe he deserves you. He wants to believe you’re his soulmate - to believe you wont ever leave. To believe that he did something right enough that the universe could give him someone like you.

And he wishes he could say all this, but he can’t - he just closes his eyes and hopes you can feel it.

“You’re so mean,”

“Isn’t that why you like me?,” he grins.

And you can feel his sincerity. He should feels yours too.

“I love you, actually,”

He gasps, a sharp breath that stabs his lungs. He feels sober from the confession.

His voice is gravelly when he speaks.

“Yeah, shit - me too,”

__

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. The address is correct, it has to be with the way this place looks. Only a hero could live here, with the floors that lead up to skies. He lives on 3rd floor, so you swallow your fear. You give yourself a thumbs up in the glass window pane of the building before entering through the doors.

When you get there, a box sits. You press the button next to his place, bouncing on the balls of your feet until you answer.

“Hello?,”

His voice feels different in real life. You  cough.

“Uh, hi,” you greet awkwardly “I’m here,”

“Oh,” he says. You hear something buzz and then him again. “Come on up,”

And you do. The elevator ride feels like it stretches mild, classic piano echoing against the empty walls. You feel yourself feel sick but you’re not sure it’s from the movement. All you can do is fidget and wait.

When the doors open, you peak your head out into the hallway. He’s the first one on the left, just as promised. You can see a welcome mat - forest green, and something in you knows that it’s the right one.

You step up and knock, three times precisely. Your heart is all the way in your ears and everything in you is filled with unease and excitement.

When the door swings open, the world stops. You gape like a fish out of water in disbelief. He’s tall and big like he promised he’d be, but you’re unprepared. His chin is scruffy, eyes full of sleep. Strong chest and arms that seem to crowd your vision, you don’t know what do.

His expression is full to the brim with feelings you’ve never seen. He steps aside with his head ducked down.

“Come in,”

“Ah.. right,”

You take your shoes off and place them in the slippers meant for you - they fit you just right, and it can’t be a coincidence. Your heart swells up a little as you take your coat off, hanging it on the rack. You can feel his eyes as they linger on your silhouette.

“So -,”

Before you can get a word out, you feel strong arms wrapped around your waist. His scruff brushes against the skin of your neck as he holds you tightly too him. The warmth of his breath lingers on your neck - and he hiccups, a sob stored in his rib cages let out with a howl. The tears blur your vision too. You can feel his drip onto your shoulder as you snivel into his neck. Your legs feel weak, but he holds you up at the door - the only thing keeping you standing.

You cling around him tightly, your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. It’s him, your soulmate, Katsuki Bakugo. He’s real and holding you - and he smells like leather and sugar and a fireplace. He’s warm and strong and overwhelming and your crying into his shoulder with so much feeling you don’t know what to do. You hit him weakly, unsure of what do with yourself and he laughs.

“Damn you, shitty woman - makin’ me fucking cry,” but his voice is strained. It’s like something connected, how you feel each other so intimately in that moment. Not only because you’re soulmates, but because you love each other so deeply. Your heart feels heavy.

When you pull away, you manage to give him a warbly smile.

Your hands cradle his face - so handsome and wonderful. You lean forward, emboldened, and peck him. He melts into your touch like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. It makes you grin.

Maybe you don’t realize that he had.

He’d been waiting for you all this time.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Would You Rather?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom mentions his crush on you during an interview and you respond

Authors note: this was requested by anon who gave a generous donation to the BLM fund. Thank you!

Masterlist

“Would you rather fight a horse sized duck or a duck sized horse?” Tom read off a card as he adjusted the collar on his blue jumpsuit.

“I don’t know what situation I’d be in where I’d have to fight either of these animals.” He started as he looked at the camera. “I feel like I’d rather fight duck sized horse because that’s pretty small. I could probably defeat that. But a horse sized duck could bite me, you know?”

The crew nodded in agreement and Tom moved on to the next question.

“Would you rather lose the ability to read or the ability to speak?” Tom scratched behind his head as he thought about it.

“I barely have the ability to read as it is.” He laughed. “I’m an actor, so I feel like I need the ability to speak.”

He dropped that card on the couch and picked up the next one.

“Would you rather have Captain Marvel or Black Cat as your girlfriend?” He smiled as he read.

“I don’t know if they mean as my girlfriend or as Spider-Man’s girlfriend but I without a doubt would pick Black Cat.” Tom said confidently. “I was so upset when they cast Y/n L/n as the Black Cat and didn’t connect her movie to the Spider-Man universe.”

“Why were you upset?” A crew member asked.

“Because I’m in love with Y/n.” Tom laughed like it was obvious. “I must’ve seen every movie of hers 100 times. Especially the Black Cat suit because she looked so freaking hot in that.”

“She really did.” A female lighting director nodded in agreement.

“Right? If Black Cat was Spider-Man’s girlfriend and Y/n was my girlfriend I’d be a very happy man.” Tom sighed dreamily and toyed with the card as he day dreamed about you.

That video went up a few days later and made the usual headlines. You were well aware of Tom as an actor but completely unaware of his crush on you. Your heart stopped that first time you saw the headline:

“Watch Tom Holland gush over his celebrity crush, Y/n L/n.”

And yes, you did watch.

You watched many times in fact. The part where he said he was in love with you was your personal favorite. After getting sent the video by all your friends and fans, you decided to do something about it.

“@tomholland1996 you look pretty hot in your suit as well. And out of the suit. And in regular clothes. Damn dude, you’re pretty hot.”

You posted the tweet with a devious smile and shut your phone off. Whatever the world had to say about it, they could wait until the next morning.

~

You were woken up early the next morning by your phone ringing. You wiped the sleep from your eyes but kept them shut as you held your phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You said groggily.

“Y/n? It’s your manager. I have some exciting news.” Your manager sounded giddy on the other side of the line.

“So exciting that you had to wake me up?” You laughed sleepily.

“I don’t know.” She humored you. “Do you think the Russo Brothers emailing me and asking you to come to set is exciting?”

You sat up quickly as your eyes flew open.

“What?” You shrieked in excitement.

“They said they’ve been rewriting the script for Infinity War for the past few weeks and it’s finally finished. They added a scene with the Black Cat.” She said in a sing song voice. Your breath hitched in your throat as the news flooded into your ears.

“You’re kidding.” You gasped.

“Nope. Can you drive down to set at 1? I sent you the address.” She told you.

“I’ll be there.” You nodded as a wide smile spread across your face. Your manager hung up and you threw down your phone.

“AHHHH.” You screamed in excitement and immediately got dressed. It was finally happening.

You were finally going to be in the MCU.

~

You arrived at the address promptly before 1 and were led to set by an assistant. The Russo Brothers met you by the trailers and introduced themselves.

“Great to meet you.” Joe shook your hand, then Anthony. “How much did your manager tell you?”

“Just that you added a scene with the Black Cat.” You nodded as you relayed all the information you had.

“Right. We decided to add the Black Cat to the MCU now that her character has been established in your solo movie.” Anthony explained. “We had to keep it a secret until now to keep it from getting leaked. We have big plans for your character, starting with this movie.”

You smiled gratefully at the two of them and nodded enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity. I’m so honored to be here. What are the plans?” You asked as you twisted your fingers nervously.

“For starters, meet your new boyfriend.” Joe chuckled and turned around and pointed.

“Boyfriend?” You asked and followed his finger.

“Tom, get over here.” He called. Your eyes widened when you realized what name he called and you looked up to see Tom jogging over to you.

“What’s up guys?” He looked at the Russo bothers before his eyes landed on you. His smile faded and he blinked a few times to register the sight in front of him.

“Hi.” His face flushed and he smiled shyly at you.

“Hi.” You smiled back, still not believing what was happening.

“I’m- I’m Tom.” He fumbled over his words as he held out his hand.

“I know.” You laughed softly as you shook his hand.

“Right, sorry.” He shook his head in embarrassment. “Whats uh, what’s she doing here?”

“Change of plans.” Anthony smirked as he handed you and Tom a few pages of the script.

“You’re giving me a script?” Tom asked in disbelief as he ran his fingers over the crisp white pages.

“Yes. Don’t make us regret it.” Joe said sternly.

“Yes sir.” Tom nodded eagerly and began to flip through it.

“Peter is going to get thrown by one of Thanos’s men and Black Cat is going to catch him.” Anthony began to explain. “She saw the spaceship, came to help, and winds up in space with Tony, Steven, and Peter.”

“That’s awesome.” Tom breathed. “This looks really cool.”

You were so wrapped up in the excitement of holding a real Marvel script that you had forgotten the brothers original statement.

���Hold on. You said he was my boyfriend.” You looked at Joe and Anthony skeptically.

“Boyfriend?” Tom perked up from his script and looked between the three of you. “Me boyfriend? To her? Please say yes. I’m fine either way it’s just, I would really like you to say yes right now.

“Yes Tom.” Joe laughed. “Right as they’re falling in love, poof.”

“Dust.” Anthony finished. You and Tom shared a look, evidently impressed.

“That’s brutal.” You remarked.

“It is.” Joe agreed. “Until they’re reunited in Endgame in a similar fashion to the way they met.”

“And the crowd goes wild.” Anthony said slowly. You got chills just thinking about it and smiled as you rubbed your arms.

“I like it.” You nodded and Tom bit back a smile.

“Me too.” He said softly. “I like it a lot.”

“Great.” Anthony rubbed his hands together. “Rehearsal starts tomorrow.”

The brothers walked away, leaving you and Tom alone with each other.

“They don’t play around over here. I just got cast and already I’m on set.” You chuckled and shyly looked at Tom. He was so much cuter in person, the camera didn’t do justice to his freckles. Tom nodded and gave you a half smile.

“Yeah, they’re pretty unorthodox over here. I’d tell you you’d get used to it, but I’d be lying.” Tom shook his head and gave you a once over. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t believe you told the world I looked hot in my catsuit but never dmed me to ask for my number.” You shrugged easily and Toms jaw dropped at your boldness.

“In my defense, you are way too cool to be interested in me. At least I knew my place.” He shot back and you laughed.

“Didn’t you see my tweet last night?” You asked coyly as you raised an eyebrow.

“What tweet? The one about you calling me hot? The one that I sent to every single contact in my phone, including my dentist?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows. “No, I don’t think I saw it.”

“Funny.” You folded your arms and gave him a sultry smile. “I never checked if you responded.”

“I’d rather if you didn’t. It wasn’t very smooth.” He admitted.

“Hey, Tom?”

“Yes?” He looked at you.

“Would you rather continue talking in the middle of a crowded set or go somewhere secluded to run our lines?” You made a callback to his interview that started it all and he noticed.

“Run lines please. I need to quit while I’m ahead.” He eyed you with uncertainty as he thought about his words. “I was ahead, right?”

“Yeah.” You smirked and linked your arm through his. “You were ahead.”

~

“Kid, what are you doing here?” Tony asked as he craned his neck to see Peter.

“On a field trip to MOMAAAAAA.” Peter yelled as he was flung into the sky. He flew through the air like a rag doll until he landed in your arms. You breathed heavily, you in your masks and suits.

“Hey there.” You smirked at Peter as you held him bridal style.

“Hi, I’m Peter. You’re really pretty.” He said through heavy pants. “Can you pretend I didn’t just say that?”

“Hi Peter.” Your wine colored lips tugged into a smile. “Should you really be telling me your name? I could be dangerous.” You pouted as you set him down.

“Oh, right.” Peter got back on his feet and brushed off his suit. “In that case, I’m not Peter. I’m…Pedro.”

“Mm, Pedro. I like it.” You winked and saw one of Thanos’s minions coming at him from behind. “Watch out.”

You spun around and kicked the minion in the face before hooking your legs around his neck and knocking him to the ground. One swift punch to the throat knocked him unconscious. You stood up and waltzed back over to Peter as you dusted off your hands.

“Woah, where’d you learn to do that?” The eyes of Peters mask widened as you impressed him with your skills.

“A woman’s got to protect herself, right?” You shrugged and popped gum in your mouth before eyeing him up and down. “And apparently, I have to protect you too.”

“I’m totally fine with that.” Peter answered honestly. “Do you have a name?”

You wrapped your arms around Peters neck and blew a bubble with your gum.

“Black Cat.” You said once it popped. The sent of bubble gum filled Peters nostrils and his knees weakened.

“That explains the catsuit.” He gulped. “What, no tail?”

“Tails are so cliche.” You whined and stroked his covered cheek with your hand. “I’m a cat burglar, not a halloween costume.”

“If this is how you go out on a normal day, I’d love to see what you wear in Halloween.” Peter attempted time flirt back with the mysterious woman distracting him from his mission. You leaned forward, close enough that your lips were almost touching.

“I bet you would.” You whispered. You patted his cheek and turned away swiftly, whipping his face with your long gray ponytail. Peter let out a throaty groan as the scent of your perfume enveloped him. You walked around him in a circle, dragging your fingernail along his shoulders as you went.

“Since you know my name is Peter, it’s only fair you tell me yours.” He said as he turned his head to look at you. You paused, standing directly behind him.

“You really wanna know my name?” You challenged.

“That’s what I just said.” Peter sassed you. You smirked and took a step towards Peter so you were pressed against his back, gripping his waist tightly.

“Hardy.” You said right in his ear and he shivered. “Felicia Hardy. I’ve seen you around, Spiderman. You’re pretty good.”

You finished your circle and stood in front of him now. He was grateful for his mask, otherwise you could see just how red he had gone. His heart was racing out of his chest just from the look of you. The white fur cuffs and skintight black suit were making it impossible for him to focus.

“Just pretty good?” He questioned. “I’ve taken down a lot of bad guys.”

“Mm, but never me.” You taunted as you twirled your gray hair around your finger, wanting to get a rise out of you.

“You’re a bad guy?”

“Depends on your definition of bad guy.” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and let your teeth drag. “Do you think I’m bad?”

“Depends on your definition of bad.” Peter straightened up.

“This has been fun.” You smirked and tossed your ponytail over your shoulder. Nice talking to you, Peter.”

“You too.” Peter smiled under his mask until a Boulder was flung your way. “Look out!”

Peter shot a web at you and pulled you flushed against his chest. He pulled you to the ground and rolled on top of you as the boulder went over your heads. It was your turn to be blushing as you stared at Peter in amazement.

“How did you-“

“Spidey senses.” He answered before you could finish your question. He could feel his body beginning to lift into the air with you following. “Oh no.”

“What’s happening?” You asked as you and Peter lifted into the air. You clutched him tightly to keep from falling and Peter held on to you for support.

“Mr Stark!” He yelled. “I’m being beamed up!”

“And cut!” Anthony yelled. The wires holding you and Tom up slowly lowered you back down until you were back on the ground. Tom rolled off of you and fell on his back, breathing heavily from the scene. He pulled his mask off and rested it on his tummy.

“Whew.” He panted and looked at you with a tired smile. “Great work.”

You smiled back at Tom, still flushing from the flirty scene. You had done that scene many times from rehearsal all the way to production, but never that well. Your heart usually stopped racing by now, but something about the way he was looking at you kept it in rhythm.

“You too.” You complimented him as you sat up. You helped each other up and pulled each other into a sweaty hug.

“That’s a wrap guys. Great work today.” Joe announced. “Before you leave, I have the official version of the script. This is what we’re going to be filming tomorrow. We couldn’t give it to you until now in case someone spoiled it.”

Joe glared at Tom as he handed out the final scripts.

“I hate it here.” Tom mumbled as his ability to keep secrets was once again under fire.

“Great, thank you.” You smiled at Joe before he walked away. Tom came over to you, hitting his rolled up script against his hand.

“Do you want to go over our lines for tomorrow?” Tom asked.

“Sure. I’ll meet you there after I drop off my costume.” You told him.

Twenty minutes later, your wig and costume were returned to the costume department. You wiped off your makeup and changed into comfortable clothes before heading to Tom’s. You let out a shaky breath as you walked towards his trailer. You’d been in there a hundred times since production began a few months ago, but today felt different. There was something in the air between you and Tom that neither of you could ignore. You knocked on his door and heard your heartbeat in your ears as you waited for him to open. Tom gave you a shy smile as he opened the door of his trailer door for you and stepped aside.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy.” He apologized as he shut the door behind him. You looked around at Toms trailer, noting the clothes hanging off the ceiling fan and the pictures of the two of you taped to his mirror. You walked over to the mirror and touched the picture with a light smile. It was a strip of picture taken in a photo booth a few weeks into production. The photos went from you and Tom smiling, to laughing, to you kissing his cheek, to him kissing your cheek as you laughed. You had spent your only day off together, hanging out a a fair until the sun was coming up. After getting stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel for 15 minutes and clinging to Tom every time it shook, you ran to the photo booth to immortalize the night. You had the exact same strip of photos on your dresser at home, but you never noticed that he displayed them so proudly.

“It’s very you in here.” You looked at him over your shoulder and shot him a smile.

“Thanks?” He bit his lip in confusion.

“Don’t worry. It was a compliment.” You said pointedly and walked back towards him. “Should we look at the script?” You suggested and he nodded.

“Yeah. Here, take a seat.” He sat on his bed and patted the spot next to you. You sat next to him and folded your legs, beginning to flip through the script.

“This looks the same as the last script.” You realized when you recognized the words. Tom flipped through his script and came to a halt when he read something unexpected.

“It’s not.” He said with a dry mouth.

“What’s different?” You looked up at him in confusion.

“There’s a kiss.” He looked you to and saw your face go pale.

“A kiss?” You stammered and went back to your script to find what he was talking about.

“Right here.” Peter held out his script and pointed to the part. “Felicia kisses Peter before she turns to dust.” He read.

“So this is what they didn’t want you spoiling.” You laughed nervously as you read the stage direction over and over.

“They might’ve made a good call on that one.” Tom chuckled softly. “I’m really tempted right now to post a picture of the script on twitter just to rub it in everyone’s face.”

You looked up from the script and gave him a fond smile.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You said softly.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized. “It’s not everyday you get cast opposite your celebrity crush.”

“How do you think I felt when I got cast as your girlfriend?” You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your chin on top.

“You...liked me?” Tom asked quietly. He didn’t let himself believe it, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“For a long time now.” You admitted. Production was about to end anyway. If he didn’t feel the same, there was nothing you could do about it, but at least he knew.

Tom blinked a few times as he registered what you said and smiled widely.

“I’m really glad I got to know you these past few months. You’re a lot cooler in person.” Tom said sincerely. “Honestly, I have no idea how I’m supposed to act beside you tomorrow knowing I have to kiss you.”

“Tom.” You said breathlessly at his words.

“I’m already a nervous wreck. My mind is in sicko mode right now. I can’t even read.” He put his script down and sighed.

“I think I might be able to calm you down.”

“How?” He wondered. He looked up at you for answers, but was met with a kiss. You tilted your head to the side and pressed your lips against his feeling his eyelashes brush your cheek as his eyes fluttered shut. Tom brought his hand to the side of your face for support and gently rubbed his thumb against your cheek. You smiled against his lips and sat up a little to get a better angle and kissed him deeply. You pulled away to catch your breath and rested your forehead against his. The only sound in the trailer was from your heavy breathing.

“You’re really smart.” He said quietly. “I feel significantly calmer.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” You chuckled softly. Tom pulled away and took on of your hands in his, rubbing gentle circles on the back of it.

“I have a question for you.” He said.

“Go for it.” You bit your bottom lip as you both spoke in hushed tones.

“Would you rather,” he began with a coy smile, “kiss me again or go on a date with me?”

“I can’t have both?” You pouted and a wicked flame ignited in Toms eyes. He hooked his pinky under your chin and moved your face towards his, leaning close enough that his lips brushed yours when he spoke.

“I think I can make an exception.” He whispered before kissing you again.

Tag List 🏷

@maybemona @foreverxholland @damnyoudameron @lavender-writer @captainmandeestudent17 @whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @theolwebshooter @andreasworlsboring101 @guksmyfav​ @waiting-to-be-myself @letsloveimagines @peterparkoure​ @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl @averyfosterthoughts​ @jackiehollanderr​ @tiny-friggin-human @celestial-skylines @mara-twins​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @spideygirl2003 @the-crazy-fanfictionist @maryjanee23​ @spacebitch2​ @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow @jillanaholland​ @rebekkah4766 @flixndchill @sovereignparker​ @wendaiii​ @thisisthebiplace​ @spideydobrik @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos​ @caelestii-e​ @eridanuswave @itscaminow @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild​ @where-art-thau-romeo @canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman​ @parkerboop @smilexcaptainx @hes-amarillo​ @quaksonhehe​ @kelieah @silteplaittais-toi @kickingn-ames @purefluff @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger​ @love-sick-blues @electraheart-3174 @lou-la-lou @unbelievableholland​ @yourtypicalhotmess @ohnothezombies @spideyanakin

[dirtyoatmeall]

3 long years (Bokuto x reader)

A/N: So I finally am trying my hand at the secret kid trope. I know these are done a lot but I’ve had this idea in my head for days and I had to write it. I was originally going to do a series but decided to just do one part. (The dinosaur mentioned is Kamuysaurus) Timeskip Bokuto so beware of job spoilers!

Pairing: Bokuto x Fem pronouns/ fem assumed reader

Word Count: Over 5k! (im so sorry)

Warnings: Angst? Happy ending, exes to lovers, long fic

`

“Yua!” you call as you continue to shove toys into the small backpack. You smile as you hear the fast pitter-patter of feet before a quiet “Yes momma?” signaling your daughter had entered the room. You turn on your feet to face her, and smile softly at the toddler. She was gripping her favorite blanket in her hand and had one of her dinosaurs in the other. She was wearing an outfit she picked out and put on by herself, a pair of pink overalls and a white shirt with frogs underneath. Her hair was in pigtails per request, but you had a feeling by the time you picked her up it would be in braids.

You motioned for her to come to you, and you folded the blanket and placed it along with the plush in the bag. You helped her put on her shoes, which were different colors, and tied them slowly so she could watch. You patted her knees when you were done, blowing a raspberry on her cheek before standing and grabbing the bag you had packed. Yua hopped up, running out of the room for a moment before running back in, paper clutched in hand. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it, checking the time and grabbing your purse. You turn to your daughter, making sure you both have everything before reaching for her hand. She takes it and the two of you exit your apartment, stopping for a moment to lock up before heading to your car. You buckle Yua in her car seat, putting her bag below her feet before getting in the car yourself, putting on the Sofia the First soundtrack before driving off.

After a short while you pull in front of another apartment building, turning the car off and helping Yua from her seat. She takes her bag this time and holds your hand as you board the elevator. You let her push the button for the correct floor and watch as she jumps over the gaps in the floor as she exits. The two of you race to the apartment, her smiling and slightly panting as she waits for you. You smile and congratulate her on winning, letting her ring the doorbell of the apartment. She presses the buzzer four times, which would have been more if not for the look you shot her when she giggled. “I think he knows you’re here by now Yua” She simply shrugs and rocks on her feet while you wait at the door.

After a few moments the door opens, Tsukishima raises his eyebrow at your daughter who loudly greets him, “You know you’re gonna wake up Kaeru with all that ruckus.” Yua just sticks out her tongue and goes to run into the apartment, most likely to find the cat. You catch the back of her shirt, helping her take off her shoes and take her bag before releasing her. You shake your head as you watch her search for the cat, turning to the blonde.

 “Thanks again for watching her Tsukishima, I know you’re having friends over later, I’ll try to be done by then.” He simply waves you off, taking Yua’s bag from you. “And like I said, its not a problem. All of them like kids, and we don’t have any plans besides being here, just focus on passing the test. You can even hang around after, I think I still have some of the gremlins pajamas here from last time.” You snort at the way Yua turned around slowly at the nickname, squinting up at Tsukishima.

She trotted over to you, tugging your sleeve down to whisper in your ear. You nod and stand up to your full height, digging the paper she had given you earlier out and handed it to the toddler. She unfolds it and presents it to Tsukishima. “Look Tsumki, I drew you a Kamu-, Kamyu-” She looked at you and you nodded encouragingly, “A Kamusamus!” She finished, smiling proudly, handing the picture to Tsukishima, who narrowed his eyes, pretending to scrutinize it before nodding. “Yep, that’s definitely a Kamusamus. I’ll tell you all about them later, How bout you say bye to your mom and we’ll go watch Atlantis?” Yua nodded frantically, hugging your thighs, letting you kiss her head before she ran to the couch. You said your goodbyes to Tsukishima before leaving for your university.

About an hour into the movie, the doorbell rang, causing Yua to stiffen. Tsukishima patted her head and paused the movie. “My friends are here, do you want to come meet them?” She nodded slowly, gripping the blondes fingers nervously and she walked with him to the door. She hid behind his legs as the others came into the apartment, gripping his jeans and peeking out before hiding again when she made eye contact with one of them. She hears a chuckle and peeks out again.

One of the taller ones had crouched down, smiling at her. She looked up to Tsukishima, who nodded to her, before she stepped out behind his legs, messing with the buckle of her overalls. “Hello.” She greeted in a small voice. The man continued to smile at her, “Hello to you too. My names Kuroo, I’m one of Tsukki’s friends, what’s your name?” She squeezed Tsukishima’s fingers before replying with her name. She chewed her lip, eyes flicking from Kuroo’s face to his hair. He chuckled and leaned his head forward, “You can touch it if you want.” She inhaled sharply and reached out tentatively, touching a small piece before running her hand into the mess of black hair, giggling at it’s softness. She tugs lightly on a piece before returning her hand to her overall buckle. Kuroo grins and stands up, taking off his shoes and moving to the kitchen.

Yua greets two others before the final person crouches before her. Her eyes move from her feet to the person in front of her and she gasps, eyes growing wide. “Bokkun!” She exclaims before raising her hands to look like claws and grins wide and sticks her tongue out. Bokuto and Tsukishima’s eyebrows raise and Bokuto copies her and laughs, “Oh I didn’t realize you were a fan!” Yua nods repeatedly, looking up to Tsukishima before lowering her voice, though not enough for the blonde not to hear, and she waves Bokuto closer. “Don’t tell Tsumki, but you’re my momma’s favorite. We watch all of your games!” Bokuto laughs and Yua leans back speaking in a louder voice, “Sorry but Tsumki is my favorite vomball player.” She tries to wink at Bokuto but fails. He ruffles her hair and stands, going to meet the others in the kitchen. Tsukishima grumbles and leads Yua after them.

After eating the pizza Akaashi had brought, Yua and the others move into the living room. She crawls onto the couch next to Kenma and tries to watch him play without being too near him, before he pauses and looks to her, “Do you wanna watch?” She nods shyly and he lets her sit in his lap as he continues to play, occasionally explaining what he’s doing. The others look on, Akaashi turning to Tsukishima, “I was surprised when you mentioned her being over, you don’t seem the type to babysit.” Kuroo nods in agreement, Bokuto still watching the toddler, there was just something about her that seemed so familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite place it.

Tsukishima shrugs, moving his attention from Yua to his friends. “I mean it’s not hard, I’ve known Yua since she was a year old, her mom and I are classmates.” Kuroo wiggled his brows, “Just classmates? Or are you trying to be Yua’s step-dad?” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, “No, we are just classmates, besides, she’s definitely still hung up on Yua’s dad. I haven’t really asked about him, but I guess they broke up when she got pregnant, he doesn’t know about it, but I can tell her mom misses him. She’s in the year above me, they would’ve been third years when she found out, she took a year to work before enrolling. You guys would like her, I invited her to hangout when she’s done.” Akaashi nodded and Kuroo hummed, the latter watched Bokuto, who had moved from where they were to the couch where Yua and Kenma were. Yua had moved from Kenma’s lap to Bokuto’s and the two were watching Moana on the TV while Kenma continued to play on his switch.

You’ve been sitting in your car for the last 5 minutes, you had finished your test early, and since there were only a few of you taking them the professor was able to get grades out the night of. You had just pulled in front of Tsukishima’s apartment when you got the notification that your test had been graded. Your eyes widened as you looked at the grade and your professor’s comments. You had thought you’d done pretty well, but the zero blazing on the screen told a different story. The test was 60% of your grade, and you’d just flunked it. Tears welled up in your eyes as you read your professor’s comments before shutting off your phone. You ran your hands through your hair, trying to steel your nerves and taking out your phone.

To: Tsukishima

Hey, I’m here. Is it ok if I meet you and Yua at the door? Apparently I totally failed the test, and that and the stress of having to move out tomorrow are messing with me.

From: Tsukishima

Yeah that’s fine, We can go over your test later too

You sent a quick thank you before wiping your eyes and making the trek up to his apartment. You knocked softly and sniffled. Tsukishima opened the door a moment later, Yua in his arms and her backpack slung over his shoulder. Yua was sleeping and you smiled before taking her in your arms. You brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead. You took the backpack and smiled at Tsukishima.

“Thanks for watching her, sorry we can’t stay longer, I’d love to another time I’m not crying” He smiled and ruffled your hair. “It’s fine, and I’ll see you tomorrow to help you move. I’ll see if my friends can help too if you’d like.” You adjusted Yua gently in your arms and nodded at the blonde. “That’d be a lot of help, you guys can stay over for dinner too. I’ll send you the address when we get home.” He nodded and you left, trying not to jostle Yua too much when you buckled her in her car seat. After getting home and putting her to bed you went to bed yourself. Sending Tsukishima the address before going to sleep.

You woke up bright and early the next day, wanting to get some last minute packing before Yua woke up. You had moved most of your boxes into the new apartment earlier in the week, now it was just clothes and the rest of the furniture. You dropped Yua off at your parent’s house and met Tsukishima at your apartment to move the final things into the truck. Kyotani and Koganegawa had helped move the heavier stuff into the moving truck before Tsukishima showed up, but they had to work so the two of you finished up. Tsukishima drove the truck to your apartment, apparently one of his friends lives in the same complex you were moving into, so him and the other two that could make it were going to meet Tsukishima there to help unload everything while you finished up things with your previous landlord and picked up Yua. The two of you swung by a bakery to pick up some sweets for Tsukishima and his friends to thank them before heading to your new apartment. You noticed the moving truck had been closed already, they finished faster than you had thought. You and Yua carried the rest of your belongings and the sweets from you car and went headed into the complex.

Your complex thankfully had an elevator, unlike your last one. Your new apartment was on the 5th floor, so it was only a short ride in the elevator before you and Yua were walking down the hallway to your apartment. Yua was skipping in front of you, holding the bag with sweets, humming a tune from Moana. You weren’t sure why but you suddenly felt nervous meeting Tsukishima’s friends. You tried to push the feeling down when you got to your door, there was no reason to be nervous, they just helped you move in. You opened the door, watching Yua walk in and start talking to someone. You moved to put the bags on the counter with your purse, not looking where you were going and bumped into someone. Their hands gripped your arms to steady you and you looked up to apologize only to gasp when you meet familiar golden eyes, eyes that looked so much like your daughter’s.

3rd year, night after graduation.

“(Y/N), I- I don’t understand. Was it something I did? Or something I didn’t? Can- Can we please just talk about this, I love you, I thought you felt the same-“ “I do. I love you so much Kotaro, that’s why I have to leave. You need to focus on Volleyball and I don’t want to distract you, to prevent you from getting where you need to go.” You turned, trying not to let him see the pain on your face but he grabbed your arm, turning you to face him. “What do you mean? Why would you slow me down? Is this about me spending too much time practicing? I promise to make time for you baby, please. I need you in my life. I meant what I said before, you’re it for me, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you, (Y/N), please, please don’t leave me.” He pleaded, cupping your cheek to try to get you to look at him. He’s confused and hurt, everything was fine, what happened? All he knew was that he loved you and you loved him, what else did the two of you need? You tugged yourself from his grasp, tightening your hold on your purse until your knuckles were white, tears blurring your vision as you fought the sobs that threatened to escape. “I’m sorry Kotaro, but I need to leave. Please let me go, this is for the best.” With that you turned and left, Bokuto just slid down the wall, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed, what happened?

“(Y/N)” Bokuto breathed, like you would disappear if he said it too loud. His eyes raked over your face, was it really you? You looked the same, your hair longer and dark circles more apararent, but still breathtaking. His heart constricted as he thought of the last time he saw you. What were you doing here, did that mean- Yua interrupted his train of thoughts, a loud giggle as she hugged his legs.

“Bokkun! Momma look, Tsumki is friends with Bokkun!” Her words seemed to break you out of the spell you were in, moving your gaze from the man in front of you to your daughter. The pain that was on your face quickly changed into a smile and you couched down, Bokuto letting go of your arms, still watching you as your daughter moved to hug you. You smiled gently and ruffled her hair. “I did, Why don’t you find Uncle Tsukki and stay with him, momma and Bokkun need to talk. She nodded and ran into the other room. You took a deep breath before standing, looking at your shoes for a moment before looking at Bokuto.

“Why don’t we talk outside?” Your voice was raw with emotion when you spoke, grabbing your purse before heading out the door, Bokuto followed you silently, thoughts racing.  The two of you walked quietly outside the complex to your car that was parked nearby. The two of you sat silently in the car for a moment, You tried to organize your words, an explanation of everything, and Bokuto was thinking of Yua, how old she was compared to when you last saw each other. He inhaled sharply before turning to you, eyes wide. “Is-Is she mine?” he said, voice trembling. He watched you nod and it took a moment for it to process in his brain, and when it did he broke down, hunching over and covering his face with his hands as he cried. You bit your lip, watching him, hands gripping your jeans tightly as you tried not to cry. You had planned to tell him eventually, you wanted Yua to know her father, you just didn’t expect it this soon.

Inside your apartment, Tsukishima heard the door close as Yua ran into the room. “Tsumki! Momma said I need to stay with you, her and Bokkun need to adult talk.” He furrowed his eyebrows, confused on why you needed to talk to Bokuto. He turned from the box he was unpacking and looked to the toddler. “Do you know why they need to talk?” He knew it was a stretch that she would know, but the way she looked down and but her lip indicated she was hiding something. Now even more perplexed, Tsukishima squatted down to Yua’s height. “Is everything ok Yua? You know you can tell me anything right?” She nodded slowly, fidgeting with her shirt before speaking. “I think Bokkun knows he’s my pappa.” Tsukishima inhaled sharply as everyone in the room stopped. Kuroo and Akaashi now looking at the two. “What do you mean he’s your pappa?” It was Akaashi who spoke first, moving to sit next to the toddler who sighed. “Well momma was crying and said she missed pappa, and when I was asleep but not really she said his name.” Akaashi gasped slightly and turned to Tsukishima, “Tsukishima when is Yua’s birthday?” “November 13th, why?” As Akaashi did the math, it was Kurro who figured it out first. “Tsukki, is her mom’s name (Y/N) (L/N)?” He nodded, still confused when Akaashi ran his fingers through his hair sighing. “Then she’s right, Bokuto is Yua’s father.”  Tsukishima, who was still confused as ever asked Akaashi to explain. Kuroo took Yua to the living room while they talked.

In your car, you pulled your knees to your chest, picking at your shoe as you thought of what to say when Bokuto beat you to it. “That’s why you left right? It was because you were pregnant? Did you think I would be mad? That I didn’t want her?” He had stopped crying but his voice was still raw. You clench your jaw as you thought of the right words to say. “ I did leave after I found out I was pregnant. But it wasn’t for that reason, we were about to graduate Bokuto , we were 18, you were scouted for the pros, I didn’t want anything holding you back from joining. I knew that if you found out that you’d drop everything to take care of us. I didn’t want you to not follow your dreams for me, for us. You were made for more than a 9 to 5 office job.”

You were crying now, thinking back to the day you found out, the week following that you tried to decide what to do. You were going to tell him, but the day you had planned to, he was scouted, offered to play in the pros, like he’s always wanted. You knew then you had to leave, no matter how hard. “I didn’t want to leave, I loved you like I said, that never stopped, I just couldn’t bear the thought that you would one day resent me for preventing you from chasing your dreams.”

You took a deep breath, trying to keep the sobs at bay, not able to look at Bokuto. “I was going to tell you. I wasn’t keeping her a secret from you, I made sure she knew you, we watched all of your games, she’s a big fan you know. But as you went farther, as you accomplished more, it became harder to have the courage to tell you. I didn’t want you to think that I sprung a child on you for your money, I don’t care about it, I never did. Then school started, and you were traveling around the world, and I started to doubt myself, would you even want to be in her life? What if you had moved on, what if you were in a relationship and didn’t have room for us? I didn’t want to subject Yua to rejection. I didn’t want her to meet her father just for him to not want anything to do with her. But god, she’s so much like you Bokuto. She has your eyes, your outlook on the world, especially your energy. She is like you in so many ways it’s a constant reminder of you, so even if I couldn’t have all of you, I still had her, and in a way it was like you were still with me, as dumb as that sounds.” By the time you had finished speaking, your vision was blurry, and your fingers were sore from gripping your pants too tight. As relieving as it was to finally let it all out, you still felt shame burn in your gut. Shame of hiding her, for not telling him right away, for leaving.

You wiped your eyes, sniffling as you waited for him to reply. For him to yell at you, for him to leave. But it never came, instead a hand rested gently on your shoulder. You could hear him shift in the seat beside you and you turned to look at him with baited breath. “(Y/N), I understand. We were young, we still are. And you’re right, I wouldn’t have accepted the scouts offer if I had known, I would’ve gotten a reliable job instead. But I hope you know that I would never resent you, for anything. I never stopped loving you (Y/N), you’re still the one for me, and that will never change. I want to be a part of Yua’s life, of both your lives any way I can.” His hand moved from your shoulder to your hand, and you gripped it tightly. You let out a shuddering breath, and nodded.

Bokuto let go of your hand and the two of you exited your car. You rushed into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and crying into his shoulder. Bokuto’s arms snaked around your middle and he buried his face into your hair, it had been so long since he last held you. After a few minutes you took a step back, moving your hands down to his chest. One of his hands moved to cup your cheek and you nuzzled into it. Bokuto kissed your forehead, pulling back to look at you affectionately. “C’mon, let’s go inside.” You nodded and followed, wiping your nose as you tried to look like you haven’t been crying for the past 30 minutes.

When you opened the door to your apartment, a blur ran at you, and you bent over to life Yua into your arms. She hugged your neck as you rubbed her back gently. She pulled back and looked at you with big golden eyes. “Are you okay momma?” You smiled and kissed her forehead. “Yes baby I’m okay. There’s something I need to talk to you about though.” You shifted her to your hip and turned to Bokuto, you smiled softly at the girl. But before you could try to explain she spoke. “Bokkun is my pappa right?” You chuckled softly and nodded. She nodded to herself and wiggled in your arms, asking to be let down. You set her down and she walked over to Bokuto, who crouched down to her height as they talked.

You turned to the other three in the room, snorting slightly when you realized who the other two were. You walked over and smiled awkwardly. “I guess it was naïve to think there were multiple volleyball playing Tsukishima Kei’s in Japan.” The blonde just chuckles and ruffles your hair as he leaves you with the other two. “Whatever, I’m gonna order pizza for everyone.”

You turned to the other two, not quite sure what to say, when Akaashi hugs you tightly. “We missed you.” He says softly, and damn, you were not expecting to have any tears left, but it seems like you did as they spilled over your cheeks. You gripped Akaashi’s shirt, wiping your eyes as he pulled away, only to be pulled into another hug by Kuroo. “I shoulda known such a cute kid came from you.” You rolled your still teary eyes as you hugged Kuroo. After a moment you pulled away, sniffling. “Well, thanks for helping me move in, Tsukishima said one of you guys lived in the complex.

Akaashi nodded, “I live on the third floor.” You smiled, glad one of closest friends was back and that they lived so close. Kuroo sighed, “Me and Kenma live in Tokyo, he was at Kei’s yesterday but had a meeting today so he wasn’t able to make it, he really would’ve liked to see you.” “Well you guys are gonna be seeing a lot more of us I can tell you that for sure.” You replied, you had already gone 3 years without seeing your friends, you weren’t letting them go that easily again.

After the pizza came and everyone ate, you cleared away room for the sofa and TV, getting it hooked up for a movie. You sat at the end, Yua in your lap and Bokuto next to you, who put his arm around you a bit into the movie. You smiled and leaned into his embrace. After the movie was over people started to file out, Tsukishima, Kuroo and Akaashi all left after getting hugs goodnight from you and Yua.

After another movie you put Yua to bed, Bokuto watching from the door frame as you read her a bedtime story. You gave her a kiss goodnight and shut off the light, closing the door somewhat. Bokuto followed you into your room and watched as you looked through a few boxes before grabbing a box and sitting on your bed. You patted the spot next to you for him to join you. He watched as you took a deep breath and opened the box in your hands. Inside were stacks of letters, about 20 if he had to guess. He looked at you, as you fondly took out a stack of letters. “I figured when I finally got around to telling you about Yua, you’d want to know about her childhood, so I wrote these letters through my pregnancy, after milestones, or just when I wished you were with me. There are pictures and other things in most of them.” You set the stack back in the box and handed it to Bokuto. “I actually wrote the most recent one a few days ago, they’re all dated too. I um haven’t changed my phone number either, if you still have it, I still have yours, if you haven’t changed it that is.”

You looked at him, trying to figure out how to tell him everything running through your head at the moment. He picked up and looked at a few of the letters, looking at the dates written in the envelope before turning to you. “Uh, no I haven’t changed mine, and I do still have yours saved. I don’t have to be back in Osaka for a bit, um, would it be okay if I came over again?” You nodded, “Honestly, I was thinking of ways to ask you to stay. You can stay with us until you have to go back, and um, anytime you want to come visit you can stay here too.”

Bokuto set the letters back in the box and placed it on the ground, turning to you. He placed a hand on your knee and shuffled a bit closer. “I’d really like that. And I know you just moved in here and you’re in school right now, but when your lease is up and if you’re up for it, you and Yua can come live with me in Osaka, there’s a great university there that’s near my apartment you could transfer to, and I’m sure there are great schools for her too. We could even move into a house if that’s what you want. I just don’t want to leave you again.” You sucked in a breath, you had only signed a year lease, and the university in Osaka did offer your major. “Is-is it okay if I think about it?” Bokuto nodded hurridley “Of course! I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything!” You smiled and gripped his hand that was on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly.

You looked at the time on your phone and yawned, it was late and you’d had an all around exhausting day. You turned to Bokuto once again, “I’m beat, You ready for bed?” Bokuto nodded and got up to leave, you gripped his hand tighter, tugging him towards you. He looked at you questioningly. “ I finally get you in my life after 3 long years, you think I’m gonna make you sleep on the couch?” Bokuto flushed slightly and stepped towards you. You parted your legs for him to stand between them and looked up at him. He gripped your chin lightly and leaned down to softly kiss you. Though it certainly didn’t stay that way, your arms moving you wrap around his neck and pull him with you as you fall back onto the mattress. 

Bokuto moved his hand from your chin to your face, cupping it lightly as his other hand rested on your hip. After a few moments that felt like forever you pulled away for air, panting slightly. He rested his forehead against yours as the two of you caught your breath and grinned. He stood back up chuckling at your whine. “I have a overnight bag in my car, let me go grab it.” You nodded, still pouting and got up to get ready for bed while he went to his car. You were just crawling into the covers when he came back into your bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, eyes zeroed in on your shirt. You looked down, before flushing when you realized it was a MSBY shirt you had bought, with the number 12 across the front. He smirked and went to change quickly before crawling into bed with you. You sighed, content to finally be back in Bokuto’s arms, even if it had taken a few years. You tangled your legs together and he kissed your hair as you fell asleep listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

[be11atrixthestrange]

Waking Up In Vegas Chapter 15

After a night of debauchery, Ron and Hermione wake up in Vegas... married.

Muggle!AU. Romcom!Romione. Slow burning, smutty, angst-fest.

Rated M.

Ao3 | FFN

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

More Chapters

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

*Six Weeks Later*

[Ron]

The flat is small but well-arranged. Bookshelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, maximizing the vertical space that only one of its residents can fully use. The kitchen is sparkling clean, save for two empty red wine-stained glasses in the sink. Usually, the dishes would be washed and stacked away before the clock strikes bedtime, but last night other, more fun activities got in the way.

The apartment's decor is simple — it has to balance the strikingly orange accent wall behind the television. The only other thing commanding attention is the large painting of a cityscape hanging on the wall across from the entry. It's an artistic rendering of a well-known skyline, characterized by neon lights, a replica of the Eiffel Tower, and a series of flashy hotels. Although the portrait might be recognizable to many, it's meaningful to only a few.

As the morning light peeks through the windows, the bedroom's blinds give up on filtering it out. The sun casts a ray across the pillows, illuminating the two sleeping figures entangled together in bed. Gentle and mild, the light is easier to ignore than an intense desert beam, and it takes a few moments for the tall, red-haired man to open his eyes.

When he does, he turns onto his side to bury his face into his pillow. The bed is warm and comfortable — the satin sheets were a worthwhile investment. Same for the pillow, which somehow maintains the perfect combination of cold and cozy. Ever since they bought a new, albeit expensive mattress, his back problems have become a thing of the past.

He smiles at the mountain of fluffy blankets beside him, topped with spirals of bushy brown locks. There's so much goddamn hair. It looks like a plush volcano of cushions is erupting with curly brown hair. He can't decide what he loves more: the explosion of brunette, the bright orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt, the black mens' boxers that have a little too much fabric for a woman, or the person it all belongs to.

Well, technically, the Cannons t-shirt and boxers are his, or at least, were his. But marriage is about sharing.

"Morning, wifey."

Hermione groans and covers her face with a pillow. "Too early."

Ron slips an arm around his wife, encouraging her to turn toward him. She obliges and snuggles up into the crook of his arm, where she fits perfectly. He presses a kiss to her forehead and nuzzles his head into her hair.

It would be easy to stay like this forever, ignoring real-life responsibilities. In a way, their bed has become an escape from reality, an oasis built upon the lessons they learned in Las Vegas. Defined by frequent 'I love you's, reprieves from work, and late-night explorations fueled by a glass of wine and the need to destress, it's the place that keeps them anchored to the magic. Who wouldn't want to stay forever?

But alas, they can't, as they have Maid of Honor and Best Man duties to attend to. Today is Harry and Ginny's wedding, and within a few hours, they need to transition from the carefree vacationers they became in Vegas to the highly organized planners helping to orchestrate the festivities.

Ron groans. Although their friends know they're together — they put on quite a show back in Las Vegas, after all — they haven't revealed the extent of their relationship, and the worst part about being in public together is pretending that Hermione's just his girlfriend.

"We should just tell everyone," murmurs Ron into Hermione's hair.

She chuckles and snuggles closer. "After the wedding. Let's not steal their thunder."

Steal their thunder. To be honest, Ron has frequently fantasized about stealing Harry and Ginny's thunder. A small part of him is jealous of their hen and stag weekend in Las Vegas and their elaborate wedding. Ron wants everyone to celebrate him and Hermione, and as time passes, he grows more desperate for them all to know.

"I want to steal their thunder."

"I know." Hermione gently pushes him over on his back and slides on top of him. The movement is swift and natural, and as always, she fits like a glove.

"Hmmm, hi," he says right before their lips meet. The kiss lingers; Hermione's teeth lightly latch to his bottom lip, driving him wild. Without breaking their kiss, Hermione shifts some of her weight onto her hips. She knows exactly what she's doing, and if Ron doesn't stop this train, they'll be late.

"Er-my-nee," he groans, pulling away. She pouts at him with her wide chocolate brown eyes, and it's all he can do to resist tangling himself back up in her arms. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

"Do you wish we had more thunder?"

Hermione brushes a tuft of hair from Ron's forehead. "Sometimes. But I still wouldn't change a thing."

Ron smiles as she leans down for another kiss. Her fingers thread into her wild curls, prompting him to flip her over and land on top. He groans when she wraps her legs around his waist.

"You know we don't have time for this," he says between kisses. "We should get rea—"

"Shhhhh." She pulls him into her embrace and tightens her leg lock around his hips. "There's always time."

"Hey!" he teases, then leaning down toward her ear to whisper, "I take offense to that."

Ron doesn't give her time to respond before connecting his mouth to hers for another kiss. He can smell his cologne from the night before on her skin, yet it still tastes like Hermione when his lips travel from her mouth to the nape of her neck. A soft moan escapes her lips and sends him into a tizzy that leaves nothing else to do but get lost in her.

Six weeks in, and he's still convinced he'll never get sick of snogging Hermione Granger.

Plus, she's right — there's always time.

x

Harry and Ginny's wedding is just as elaborate as their weekend of partying in Las Vegas, but of course, classy. The venue is a converted warehouse, which initially horrified Molly, Ron and Ginny's mum, but it's unrecognizable after a few hours of decorating. They tie the knot underneath a trellis of climbing vines and twinkling lights illuminating the exposed brick wall behind them. Cafe lights drape from the ceiling beams, filtering the room's color just enough that everyone appears to glow. Each row of seats is marked by a simple bouquet and a periwinkle ribbon that matches the color of the bridesmaids' dresses, and the aisle appears to have been assaulted by flower petals, courtesy of Victoire, Ron and Ginny's niece, who recently discovered the true strength of her throwing arm.

Ginny has insisted that she and Harry walk down the aisle together as equals. Although originally disgruntled at the pushback on tradition, their father, Arthur, chokes up when he watches the pair approach the altar. Ginny's eyes sparkle with rare tears, and Harry can't keep his gaze off her radiant smile.

They're a couple in love, and there's not a doubt in the room.

Ginny's dress is simple — Hermione had said something about satin, but Ron doesn't remember the details. It's one of those dresses that doesn't dare pull focus from the woman wearing it, not that any dress could. Ron's always resented the Weasleys' fiery red hair and the way it sticks out like a sore thumb, but Ginny makes him think that maybe it isn't so bad after all.

While everyone watches the couple, Ron chances a glance at Hermione across the altar. He can hardly stand seeing her in her periwinkle bridesmaid dress, and he hopes to heaven his gawking isn't too noticeable. When he shifts his eyes in her direction, she turns her head back toward the bride and groom.

She was checking him out, too.

He doesn't have to keep his eyes on her for his imagination to run wild. That periwinkle dress turns white, and suddenly it's Hermione walking down the aisle. Her hair is tucked up into a spiral on top of her head, a few wisps escaping to frame her face.

Since it's his sister's wedding, Ron forces the image out of his mind, but he can't stop a wistful smile from forming on his lips and staying there throughout the ceremony.

When Harry and Ginny arrive at the altar, the music slows to a stop, and the officiant steps out from behind a curtain.

"Well, hello, folks!" says the blonde-haired man in a thick, mumbling American accent.

The wedding guests stare in silence at the man, who's dressed in white from head to toe, a greasy black wig barely covering his blonde locks.

Harry and Ginny burst into laughter, which breaks the seal for everyone else to follow suit.

"Yes! You got an Elvis impersonator!" shouts Fred, Ron and Ginny's brother, from the front row. "Someone check Mum's pulse."

With that, Ron snaps his head toward his mum, whose face has collapsed into her hands. Her body is heaving with what can only be sobs, or…

Laughter. Ron grins when he realizes that his mother's laughing hysterically.

At Molly's outburst, the tension and stuffiness of a formal event dissipate, and the ceremony continues flawlessly, having now been marked by Harry and Ginny's personalities. Elvis speaks to their bond, and even though he doesn't know the couple, he manages to capture how they approach life, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves and marching to their own beat. They've written heartfelt but humorous vows, expertly eliciting laughs and tears from their guests while they read them with shaky hands. They share their first kiss as a married couple to a round of applause and a standing ovation. Emboldened by the support, Harry picks up Ginny and drapes her over his shoulder as he skips back down the aisle to a chorus of cheers and whistles.

The wedding party follows the happy couple back down the aisle, starting with Ron and Hermione. They link arms and lock eyes, sharing a small, knowing smile. Ron wonders if she's also imagining the roles reversed, everyone clapping and celebrating for them as they traipse down the aisle after tying the knot.

What would the pseudo-Elvis have said about them if this were their ceremony, not Harry and Ginny's? Would he have spoken to how they disliked each other when they first met, and the utter disbelief they felt when they woke up next to one another in bed? Maybe he'd have talked about their strong determination to get a divorce and straighten everything out, followed by the looming 'what ifs' that kept knocking. What if they gave it a chance? What if they opened their hearts and it worked out? What if it was meant to be?

Maybe Elvis would have told a white lie at their request, saving their families the heartache of learning that they missed the original wedding, even though Ron and Hermione kind of missed it too.

That would be best wouldn't it? They could hire an Elvis to spin a new love story for their family, so they could keep the real one to themselves��not due to shame, but the simple fact that it's theirs.

Ron can't help but wonder.

Rather than a formal sit-down dinner, the ceremony transitions straight into a party. The delicate set-up of chairs and flowers clears into a dance floor. The doors to the warehouse open to an outdoor deck complete with a buffet and a dessert table, and a crowd forms at the bar.

Tugged away by Ginny, Hermione disappears into the crowd, and Ron becomes absorbed by friends and relatives. He'd rather stick with Hermione, but before he can locate her again, he's trapped in a conversation with long-lost family members. Old cousin Barny, Auntie Muriel and her flavor of the week — a scruffy looking man who introduces himself as Argus, and a neighbor who used to babysit when he was a toddler — he smiles through it all.

"Anyone special in your life, Ron?"

"I noticed the way you were looking at the brunette."

"Is it serious?"

"Should we be marking our calendars for another wedding?"

He deflects the expected questions — the ones that could draw attention away from the happy couple — with suggestive 'maybes' and 'we'll sees' although the truth, or at least a version of the truth, is evident on his face.

Yes, there is someone special. Yes, he was probably gawking at the beautiful brunette. Yes, it's serious enough that they live together.

"You're living together before you're married?" Auntie Muriel chimes in her most dismissive, judgemental tone.

Ron gives her a guilty look, a 'we're already married, you just don't know,' but to her, it's an admission of living together in sin.

"Well, I hope for your sake, she's the one."

"She definitely is," he says, nodding in a way he hopes ends the conversation.

Ron eventually negotiates an escape from small talk and heads to the bar for a slight reprieve. He slides into a seat and accepts a generous glass of champagne from the bartender. One sip reveals just how thirsty he is, and he lets out a satisfied sigh of relief before indulging in the rest of his glass.

"Another?" asks the bartender once he finishes.

"Erm, sure. Thanks."

While the bartender refills his glass, Ron takes a quick scan of the room. He's looking for Hermione, but she's nowhere to be found. His search doesn't last long as a certain someone slides into the barstool next to him and interrupts.

"Thank you for being here," says the dark-haired man beside him. "It means a lot."

"Ugh, not you," groans Ron, but his tone is laden with a touch of sarcasm only his best friend can decipher. "Should I say congratulations?"

"Yes, please," grins Harry. "Even though you've said it a million times."

"Well, you should soak it up because tomorrow, I'm done congratulating you," he says. "So needy."

"Cheers to you too," says Harry, clanking his champagne glass against Ron's.

"I've been meaning to ask you," says Ron, remembering Harry and Ginny's elaborate ceremony. "Why Elvis?"

Harry laughs. "Oh, Ludo? We met him at one of the casinos in Vegas."

"And you just asked him to officiate your wedding?"

"Well, he offered, and we didn't have anyone else," shrugged Harry. "To be honest, we were kind of drunk when we agreed, but Ginny wanted to bring some of Las Vegas into the wedding, so it worked out."

"Well, I liked him. I thought it was brilliant."

"I agree," grinned Harry. "So, will I get to congratulate you anytime soon?"

"Congratulate me for what?"

Harry rolls his eyes, aware that Ron is playing dumb. "Do you think you and Hermione will ever get married?"

"What makes you ask that?" Ron looks over at his best friend, and his expression that's full of excitement. Part of Ron loves that he and Hermione are the only people who know about their marriage. Another part of Ron just wishes he could share it all with his best friend. It doesn't feel right keeping him in the dark.

"You live together and seem pretty happy," continues Harry, oblivious to Ron's internal debate. "I'll admit, at first, I thought you two were moving fast, but you seem well suited for each other."

"After Hermione, you'll be the second person to know," says Ron, grinning at his friend.

"I'll take it!" says Harry. "Can I give you one piece of advice?"

"Sure, mate." Ron can't help but smirk — Harry's been married for barely two hours and is already touting marriage advice. Typical.

"If you know she's the one, don't overthink it. You'll just waste time."

Ron laughs softly. "I don't think that will be an issue for me."

"Good. I'm going to find my wife," says Harry, emphasizing the word like he's trying it on for size. "And you should go dance with your girlfriend. She looks like she could use a hand."

Harry motions across the room to where Hermione and Luna are alone at a cocktail table. There she is. Hermione's stiff body language is a stark contrast to Luna's eccentric gestures, and it appears that Hermione has become an unwilling audience for one of Luna's wild conspiracy theories.

"Happily," mutters Ron as Harry saunters off to find Ginny.

Ron meanders across the room to rescue Hermione from Luna's verbal clutches. Since she doesn't see him approach, he decides to surprise her by sneaking up behind her and looping his arms around her waist.

"Hi, girlfriend," he whispers into her ear.

"Hmmm." She seems to melt into his touch ."Hi, boyfriend."

"Sorry, Luna," says Ron, as he slides a hand down Hermione's arm and interlaces his fingers with hers. "I'm going to steal Hermione away for a dance."

"Of course! Have fun, you two," Luna says before turning around toward the crowd and skipping away, presumably in search of another unsuspecting guest to engage with.

"She's a lot, isn't she?" asks Ron.

"She's not too bad, once you get to know her. She's just talkative, that's all."

Ron tugs Hermione toward the dance floor where a smattering of couples intertwine, swaying to one of the rare slow songs in the D.J.'s repertoire. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he tightens his embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"It's a little weird to call you my girlfriend."

"It sounds wrong," she says, her voice muffled by his dress shirt. "I was never your girlfriend. It's probably how people feel when they first start saying 'wife' or 'husband.'"

"I reckon you're right."

Ron reflects on the first time he called Hermione "wifey." It didn't feel weird at all, probably because it was a joke. Eventually, the joke just turned real.

"Hubby suits you better, anyway," says Hermione. She always seems to know what he's thinking, but he doesn't mind one bit.

"I agree, love." Even now, Hermione can still make his cheeks tinge red with a simple statement. "Are you enjoying the wedding?"

He can feel her nodding against his chest. "Yeah," she mumbles. "Although, it was a lot of work. Are you?"

Ron shrugs. "Ours was better, I think."

Hermione laughs. "I'm sure it was. Too bad we can't remember it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron can see Harry and Ginny embracing on the dance floor, surrounded by his grinning family. A spotlight shines on them, and at the sound of clinking glasses, they lock eyes and share a kiss. When they make contact, the bystanders whoop and whistle. "Maybe they should have gotten hitched in Vegas like us. This is a lot of commotion."

"Well, you know Harry and Ginny," says Hermione as she loosens her embrace to glance over at the couple. "They like their parties."

"They do," he says, tugging Hermione back into his arms. "What would you have done if this was your wedding?"

Ron expects Hermione to take some time for her answer, but surprisingly, she has one at the ready. "It would have been smaller. Maybe a live band instead of a D.J. And red velvet cake."

Ron smiles into her hair as she continues.

"I probably wouldn't have had a huge wedding party. Probably just a maid of honor. Intimate rooftop ceremony. I'd write my own vows. I even have photos of my dream dress."

Ron chuckles. "You have it all planned out."

"I never really planned it, I just knew." She's smiling when she pulls away and meets his eye, but her smile fades into a frown. "But seriously, I wouldn't change a thing."

She must have interpreted his pensive look as disappointment. "Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Let's plan it."

"Plan what?"

"Our rooftop wedding," he says as the color pink creeps up his neck.

"Ron, we're already married." Despite her deadpan tone, there's a twinkle in her eye and a soft smirk hiding behind her lips.

"Then let's get married again."

She narrows her eyes at him, and Ron can almost see the gears turning inside her head. "You don't think that would be a waste of time and money?"

"No. Not at all. Plus, I couldn't stop picturing you walking down the aisle today, and I'd love to see you in your dream dress."

She leans back and stares at him for a few moments, clearly running questions through her mind. When she finally speaks, her eyes are glassy with held-back tears, and a smile lifts her words. "You're serious?"

"Hermione Granger," he states in his most serious tone. "Will you marry me again?"

Their feet stop moving, and she bores her gaze into his. Her answer is swimming in her eyes, but he waits for her to verbalize it. "Of course I will. I'd marry you every day."

Ron barely has time to smile before she's pressing her lips against his. He responds so enthusiastically that it could very well be their first or thousandth kiss, lifting her gently off her feet. They're probably drawing attention to themselves, but Ron doesn't mind. It's like she's the only person in the room.

That seems to happen a lot.

Ron sets her back down and slides his hands down her arms, landing at her unadorned fingers. He rubs a thumb across her left hand, desperately wishing he had brought the ring. He didn't think to bring it to the wedding.

The ring — a modest emerald-cut solitaire in yellow gold, is still safely stashed in his bedside drawer, hidden by a few football magazines. He had a whole plan that didn't include a quiet proposal at someone else's wedding, but sometimes the best things in life are accidents.

"I have a ring, you know."

"You do?" she asks, her eyebrows raised. "You planned this?"

Ron laughs. "Well, sort of. But I wasn't planning on asking you tonight. Didn't want to steal anyone's thunder."

"When were you going to ask?"

He had it all planned out. A surprise candlelight dinner at their flat. A homemade cocktail — his best attempt at Liquid Luck. Slow-dancing in a dimly lit living room, furniture pushed against the wall to make room. Dropping to one knee in the middle of a dance. Strawberries and whipped cream. It would have been perfect.

But this is perfect too.

"I was going to propose six months in. Since that's when you can finally divorce me if you want to—"

"Right. Divorce," she scoffs. "When did you buy the ring?"

Ron averts his gaze when he answers. He hasn't planned on telling her this part. "In Las Vegas."

"That early?" she asks, her tone suspicious.

He nods.

"You knew you wanted to stay with me?"

"Of course, I did. Didn't you know, too?"

She smiles and answers him with another kiss. This time it's slow and loving, taking its time. Their bodies seem to melt together into one.

"That would have been so sweet," she says when they eventually break free.

"We can stick to the original plan if you'd prefer that—"

"No!" Her eyes widen as if she's afraid he'll take it back. "When have we ever followed plans?"

Ron grins. There it is — that spontaneous Hermione that only he gets to see. "And you were worried 'Vegas Hermione' would disappear completely," he says, tucking a hair behind her ear.

"I guess she's here to stay," says Hermione as she nestles her head into the crook of Ron's neck where it fits so perfectly. "I love you so much, Ron."

"I love you more, fiance."

Ron can't help but wince at her new title. 'Fiance' sounds just as odd as 'girlfriend,' and it'll only be true for a small fraction of their lives together — not enough time to get used to it.

"I still like 'wifey' better," she says as though reading his mind.

He does too. "Then I guess we have another wedding to plan."

"I guess we do," she says. "And what about our real wedding? Do you want to tell people?"

"Should we?"

"No," she says before securing her arms around his neck. "That wedding can stay ours."

Ron smiles as his lips meet hers. The desire for everyone to know is still there, but less so. They'll get to celebrate a 'real' wedding together, their guests blissfully ignorant of Ron and Hermione's little secret. It's a perfect plan, really.

Someday they might reveal the truth. They might let it slip in conversation, or accidentally admit it to Harry and Ginny after a few cocktails, or decide to tell their future children.

But until then, their original wedding can just be theirs.

*THE END*

[popculturebuffet]

Static Shock: Shock to the System and Aftershock Review

“You know what? 13 years ago, me and some friends sat in a restaurant all night and daydreamed about the kinds of stories we would tell if we had the chance. We wanted to expand the concept of superhero to include characters that kind of looked like us, who had some of the same background, experiences and dreams as we did. We wanted to create something fun that a new generation would respond to the same way we responded to our childhood heroes -and damn if we didn't succeed beyond my wildest dreams. Today, Static Shock is a household name with millions of fans of all ages (Is there stuff I'd do differently? Yeah, almost all of season four but why nitpick?) Static is the most successful thing I've ever helped create and I'm both proud and gratified that people have taken it into their hearts. “ 

Dwayne McDuffie, Co-Creator of Static and Writer for Static Shock

This review is dedicated to Dwayne McDuffie and Robert L. Washington III.                                                        Rest In Power Static Shock is awesome. I grew up with the show watching it both first run on the WB and second run on Cartoon Network and loved it as much as I did other large parts of my childhood courtsey of DC like Batman the Animated Series, Teen Titans and both Justice League Shows. What makes this unique among the DC Properties is that Static wasn’t really a big name when he got a show. He wasn’t even part of the DC Universe. 

See as I had no idea for probably a good decade, Static actually came from Milestone Comics, a company ran by and focused on african americans. The goal was understandable: While black heroes existed at the time, and there were some fantastic ones like Storm, Jim Rhodes and Steel... these guys weren’t the center of their universes. The big faces of the big  companies, Spider-Man, Wolverine, Hulk, Iron Man, Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Flash.. were white. So milestone was a shakeup of that with the main teams and heroes all being black, from Icon, an alien who’d lived among man but rather than end up in kansas like say superman ended up imprinting on a slave woman centuries ago and has been with us since, who was encouraged by an energetic teenager named Rocket to put on a costume and do something with his powers and his community, Hardware, a tech genius who had his work stolen by a white asshole and wanted to fight back and BLood Syndicate, a group of gang members all caught in the “The Big Bang”, a huge fight between all of Dakota, the midwest city where the comics take place, that ended when the police released a bunch of experimental gas that gave them all super powers. 

As most of you who have watched the show already know, this is where Static comes from. Static was the company making their own Spider-Man, i.e. a nerdy teenager who suddenly gets super powers, in this case Virgil Hawkins who at the prodding of a friend took a gun to The Big Bang to get revenge on a bully. .but ultimately couldn’t go through with it, decided it wasn’t him and got rid of the gun and ran.. and still ended up in it, becoming Static, a young hero dedicated to using his powers to fight other “Bang Babies”.. a term that dosen’t really sound that great and they really should’ve thought through. But Phrasing aside the character was great and I look forward to reading more and only haven’t because I have to buy the issues gradually, but DC is currently re-releasing the individual issues of Static, Icon, and Hardware weekly in anticipation of a reboot of Milestone Coming in May digitally on Comixology at only 2 bucks a pop, and rereleased the original print collections that were long out of print for 10 bucks each, though i’m getting static on it’s own since i’ts really not that much less expensive as it only collects four issues while Icon and Hardware both collect 8, so I can wait a bit there on Hardware and already own Icon: A Hero’s Welcome.. and really need to review it at some point. 

While Milestone’s output was good, at least from the two books i’ve read, with Robert Washinton III, who sadly not only ahs also passed but was fucking homeless for a while  in the 2000′s.. what the actual hell, writing Static alongside Dwayne McDuffie, whose later moved onto animation writing tons of Static episodes all of them classics including the school shooting episode, the first three rubberbandman episodes and both Anasazi episodes. Point is it had good writers and artists and even had a distrbution deal with DC, so they had a leg up on the glut of other comic book companies.. but happened to start at the start of the comic book crash, a huge downturn in sales in the 90′s as the speculator boom, i.e. a bunch of people assuming every number one would be worth golden and silver age money, forgetting a character has to BUILD INTREST and this stuff takes time, and whose attempts to sell fast flooded the market with comics no one wanted,, caused the roof to cave in and with a bunch of assholes pegging milestone as a “Company for black people” rather than you know, a company trying to add fucking diversity and represntation to the comics industry, and that simply wanted a unvierse that was centered around people of color instead of white guys. The company eventually had to shut down, and was left to lisencing.  This is where the show comes in. Producers HAD been trying to make shows based on Milestone for a while, as far back as the mid-90s and the company was was all for it but the closest it got was an x-men style team series using various characters whose first draft was terrible and whose second draft by Alan Burnett, a producer on various DC Animated shows who’d go on to produce Static Shock, that McDuffie and others really liked but sadly did not get picked up. eventually though with presistance Static ended up getting a series and as I said McDuffie went on to write for it though he did not develop it. Some changes went into place naturally to make it work for an early 2000′s kids show and while i’ll probably miss so since again, only read one issue as we go. But due to Milestone coming back my intrest was peaking, hence finally reading the copy of Icon I had to buy from the library years ago due to keeping it overdue but am now EXTREMLEY glad I own as i’ts incredibly rare and really damn good, and wanting to read static, doing so lately since it’s finally on digtiial and again not too expensive. So join me as I give you a shock to the system and revisit this hell of a series to see if it holds up.. which just to cut that short it does and i’m only holding off binging MORE because I want the first two eps to be fresh enough in my head to review properly.. and also go over the various voice actors because that’s a thing with me now and charcter co-creator dwayne mcduffie because he’s awesome. 

As I like to do when covering a series first episodes, let’s run down the voice cast. 

First up is an UTTER LEGEND, and I use the term voice acting legend a lot, and mean it every time and have good reason to use it when I say it, and Phil LaMarr is a GOD in the buisness, having done a metric ton of voice acting roles, and being easily the most proflific black voice actor in animation. He’s also done some acting work, mostly in pulp fiction which I have not seen, but his true staying power and talent is in animation so here’s just the roles I feel are most notable or may not be very notable but i’m bringing up anyway because it’s my list. 

His roles besides Virgil include Lester Payton the Texas Ranger who showed up for one very good episode of king of the hill to be badass and show up the hickish, stupid and very punchable local Sheriff, Gearld’s obnoxious older brother Jamie O on Hey Arnold, Hermes Conrad from futurama, Carver from the Weekenders (PUT IT ON PLUS DISNEY), Axel Foley for exactly one bit in Clerks the Animated Series, but anyone whose seen it will know exactly which one, Micheal on the Proud Family, Black Vulcan on Harvey Birdman (In His Pants), Hector Con Carne and Dracula on Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy and Evil Con Carne, Jack on Samurai Jack something I didn’t know for decades (and I didn’t know about the carver thing till today though i’ts obvious in hindsight), John Motherfucking Stewart on Justice League and later Steel and Adult Static in the Unlimited seasons, Osmosis Jones on Ozzy and Drix, Bolbi Strogofski on Jimmy Neutron (And yes i’m just as shocked as you are.), Wilt on Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, Marcus on Life and Times of Juniper Lee, Bull Sharkowski on My Gym Partner is A Monkey and Also a Sociopath Please Help God My Life is a waking nightmare..... okay the rest of that title is implied but we all watched the same show, we all know in our hearts that was the title

Moving on, he was also, and yes there’s MORE: Maxie Zeus on The Batman, Philly Phil on Class of 3000, Both Robertsons AND Fancy Dan on the Spectacular Spider-Man, Jazz on Transformers Animated, Kit Fisto and Bail Organa on Star Wars the Clone Wars, Gambit and Bolivar Trask on Wolverine and the X-Men, Aquaman I, L-Ron and Green Beetle on Young Justice, J.A.R.V.I.S. and Wonder Man (Simon Williams) In Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, Gabe and Carny on Kaijudo: Rise of the Duel Masters (Really miss that game and have been snapping up what cards I can get lately), Baxter Stockman in the 2012 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (And there’s also an awesome photo of him with 2003 Baxter... the two best together in one place. I got chills), Dormammu (I’ve come to bargin) in various Marvel Shows, Noville in Mighty Magiswords, Zach’s dad Marcus in Milo Muprhy’s Law, Craig’s Douchey Brother Benard on Craig of the Creek, showing he’s clearly come full circle, And Mr. Scully on the Casagrndes. And given It took about two paragraphs to cover all of this, yeah, I MEANT legend. 

Next we have Kevin Micheal Richardson as Virgil’s Dad Robert, and it’s the first time since I started introducing Voice Actors on a show that i’ve overlapped. I already covered him during the second episode of legend of the three caballeros, but for the short version he’s also very acomplished, very damn good and I somehow missed he played the old blind guy in hey arnold> Needless to say the dude is awesome. 

Virgil’s Sister Sharon is played by Michele Morgan who was in the rap group BWP and did some smaller roles outside of this the one exception being Juicy on the PJ’s, which I have not watched much of but REALLY do not like, though i’ll at least give it credit for being a decently long lasted black claymation sitcom at at time when there were, and hoenstly still aren’t, many black animated shows. 

Back to long casting sheets, next up is Jason Marsden, who is one of my faviorites as i’ve realized recently as Ritchie. As I also found out only recently he started on the Sitcom Step By Step and while that show is .. ehhhhhhhhh, he is great in it because he’s great in everything. He also apparently has his own internet variety show which I have to watch now. His roles include Max Goof, ironically given I was just talking about that role a few days ago, Haku in the english dub of Spirted Away, Micheal, the kid being yelled at by a bunch of 80′s cartoons characters not to take drugs in Cartoon All-Stars to the Rescue!, Nermal in the DTV Garfield movies and The Garfield Show, Tino on the Weekenders (SERIOUSLY DISNEY), Snapper Carr on Justice League, Rikochet on Mucha Lucha! for the last season (Why I do not knkow and while I love the guy he was not the right choice), Felix on Kim Possible, Chase Young on Xiaolin Showdown (WHich I did not realize was him and now I do easily his best role and I REALLY should’ve), Red Star and Billy Numerous on Teen Titans, Speedy on Batman Brave and the Bold, Impulse/Kid Flash II on Young Justice, and Fingers on Kaijudo. He hasn’t done as much lately which is a shame but hopefully i’tll pick up again. 

Next up is Hotstreak, Virgil’s brutal bully turned unhinted pyromancer played by DANIEL COOKSY, another actor i’m happy to talk about and another faviorite I haven’t seen much of lately. Daniel was an actor from childhood, playing Budnick on Salute Your Shorts, but he quickly gained a long and storied catalogue of VA Work: His first big roll was as Montana Max on Tiny Toon Adventures and if there is a god he’ll be back for the reboot, Stoop Kid on Hey Arnold, the incomprable Jack Spicer on Xiaolin Showdown, far and away his best role and part of why Chronicles sucked so bad was he was he didn’t get to reprise the role, The titular Dave the Barbarian, Django of the Dead on El Tigre (Had no idea), Kicks utterly insufferable big Brother Brad on Kick Buttowski and apparently he’s back at it again after laying low for a bit as he’s voicing Snag in Long Gone Gultch.. which I already really needed to watch but hot damn, I missed him. Sign me up. 

Frieda, Virgil’s crush and close friend who in the comics was his main confidante and love intrest but here is eventually pushed aside, is voiced by Danica Mckeller whose work didn’t seem all that familiar.. until I found out she was Ms. Martian on Young Justice. Hello, Megan. Very talented and she did get a major role in a dc show eventually so good for her. Can’t wait for season 4. 

So with our major players out of the way,  let’s talk about Dwayne. McDuffie is an AWESOME man and my respect has grown for him more and more with time. A writer and editor at Marvel, McDuffie has a decent resume doing smaller but awesome books, which I got most of for free last year when Marvel was giving out free digital collections due to the lock down, like Damage Control, a sitcom set in the marvel universe about the company that picks up after superhero battles and the logistics and antics that insue and Dethlok, about a pacfist trapped inside a cyborg zombie. He was as mentioned one of Milestone’s founders, and wrote Icon, Hardware and co-wrote the first few issues of Static. He’d go on to a pretty stacked career in animation, writing on this show and Justice League before becoming  story editor and show runner for Unlimited , even making a return to comics as a result writing the Marvel miniseries beyond and an arc of Fantastic Four in which Black Panther and Storm filled in for Reed and Sue while the two of them worked on their marriage after Reed did.. pretty much everything he did in Civil War. He also became head writer and show runner for Ben 10: Alien Force and Ultimate Alien, revamping the franchise a bit, and Alien Force, at least the first two seasons are awesome and I feel people overreacted on the changes. Ultimate Alien is okay, but has it’s problems but the finale was awesome and left the man’s legacy on a high note.. as he sadly passed in 2011 due to heart complications. He is truly missed and produced some utterly amazing stuff whlie he was alive. So on that melacholy note let’s see what happens when his creation hits the tv screen shall we?

Shock to the System:

This episode is written by Christopher Simmons, who is apparently a huge art designer guy.. but i’m not sure that’s the same chirsptoher simmons. Much more notable is the writer of the episode after this Stan Berkowitz, who was showrunner for season 1 and has done a LOT of DCAU work and is suprising talent, having written a lot of awesome Justice League episodes including Secret Society and The Royal Flush One. Point is we’re in first class hands.  Before the episode itself I want to talk about the intro and how it’s unique among DCAU shows. Like most Western Animation the intros for DCAU shows didn’t change much over the seasons with the most I can see is JLU changing up the footage to preview the current episode and later adding Hawkgirl to the intro after her return to the team. I THINK superman the animated series changed some of it’s footage too, but I can’t confrim it and may of just been imagining it. As i’ve talked about on my blog it’s normally a pet peeve of mine, mostly because shows you know, change after season 1, characters get added some one shot characters used for the intro never return, and after a while it can feel dated especially in more recent shows where the status quo is not at all set in stone and things change quite a bit. But sometimes it can be good enough that either the dated elements don’t matter or general enough that you don’t need to change it and i’ts just that good.. and given Batman the Animated Series has both in spades, you can see why i’ts probably my golden standard for intros and after superman the animated series DC mostly followed suit. But being part of the teen superhero boom of the 2000′s Static is unique in that it splits the diffrence: It’s intro gets the character across perfectly like a good intro should starting with Virgil getting out of bed and running a comb across his head before showing off to his sister to bug her and literally running into his dad who hand shim his bag and smiles, silently showing off his family. He then runs to school and runs into some trouble.. and said trouble changes for each intro, with Rubberband Man for season 1, Kanga (Whose name I only know because I happened to run across it) for season 2 and your guess is as good as mine for seasons 3 and 4, though Hotstreak is a constant. They still save some money for seasons 1 and 2 by recycling some animation.. but that’s alright with mea s it was good animation, and the improtant thing is cycling out old villians for new ones, while Season 3 is the only out and out redo to show off Richie taking on the Gear identity, adding about 10 seconds of intro to let him show off.  Seriously it’s an utterly great intro and like the other DCAU intros outside of superman, stuck in my brain. 

The other change that’s ENTIRELY diffrent from the rest of htem is that the music changes each time. The first two have the same formula just with a difrent vocalist and backing track: a superhero theme but with some hip hop beat boxing over it. The first intro is fine enough, not specattcular but stilll god. The second song.. is eh. Not really great and feels like a marked downgrade from season 1 and just dosen’t blend an ocrehstiral superhero theme with the beatbox elements NEARLY as well. The third song though is my faviorite.. even if I HATED Little Romeo as a  kid because I really did not like his nick show, it’s more a straight up rap song, but it has a faster beat that fits the intro better, and Romeo’s bragging fits Virgil’s character and penchant for Spidey quips perfectly. I also find it ironic that the theme that blends in with the dcau the most, the first season’s, is the one from BEFORE they decided to put it in the same universe. Still this season’s intro slaps, I just like the LIttle Romeo one a bit more.  The opening scene is picture perfect. Some masked crooks looting a warehouse are loading some stolen TV’s into a van when suddenly the lights come on one by one above one of the crooks before his tv switches to various channels before going haywire. Cue our heroes’ entrance. Let’s tak ea good look at him

Static’s Costume is awesome. While I prefer the season 3 redesign, and clearly DC agrees as the redeisgn was used for both pre and post new-52 when they used him, and while he’s getting a fresh design for the reboot, said design takes a lot of cures from said outfit. As for how the outfit differs from the comics itself  this is the design he had in the comics

It didn’t change much from the first issue, with the exception of his now iconic big puffy jacket which was added pretty early into the character’s history but I was unaware of that and just assumed he had the bodysuit the whole time. The more you know. But as you can see outside of the cool puffy jacket over a costume the two couldn’t be more diffrent. While the Dakotaverse outfit is more a standard superhero outfit, with some regular clothes touches on top the first cartoon outfit comes off more realistic, looking fantastic, but still coming off as something two teenagers could realistically have thrown together with what clothes they could buy, while still looking awesomely superheroy. IN short it’s perfect and only topped by the season 3 onward look...

But the slicker look, with an even cooler jakcet and the new colors all fitting the lighting ascetic better, but fits: not only has Virgil come along farther since he started, but with Richie now having a genius brain as Gear, he can provide a far slicker, far more professional superhero outfit on the budget the two have.  This show is just great  at costume design. 

So getting back to the episode at hand, Static puts up a huge sign in elecrticy saying “Bad guys here”, PFFFT, and then hides away and narrates that a few days ago he’d be the last person anyone would’ve expected to be a hero. Cue Flashback. 

We meet Virgil Hawkins on an average day: rapping into his razor, getting into a petty argument with his older sister Sharon, as a younger brother myself I relate to this, and talking to his dad who tries to get them to cut that out. We find out his mom has passed via his sister making really terrible eggs and saying that’s how mom made them. Exposition! Though we do get a great bit through this as when his sister gets distracted by her boyfriend calling, he uses the opportunity of her leaving the room to dump the eggs.. after having earlier jokingly prayed to his mom for a way out of breakfast. “Thanks for looking out for me mom” That’s both very sweet and very hilarious. 

This is a change from the comics it turns out as I was utterly flored to find Virgil’s mom alive and well when reading the first issue of Static. Turns out this was a change made during development and one Dwane McDuffie admitted in the interview I got the tribute quote from to not liking as he had a good reason for having Virgil have a nuclear family, as most black families in media at the time were just one single parent and a kid or two with the other having either left or died. He wasn’t too bothered by it as while he preferred what he came up with in the first place, the show DID get some really good stories out of her being gone and didn’t just have her be absent because shut up. Virgil is still working over her death and the way HOW she died ends up playing an important role in this episode and gives Virgil a dislike of guns, as she died to gang violence. So the change wasn’t for stupid or racist reasons, but likely both to keep the character count down while giving them something to work with for storylines. Or it could’ve been for stupid reasons and the writers simpily made lemonade out of that very dumb lemon, either way it ended up working.  Virgil also plans to ask his friend Frieda out. Frieda was a bigger deal in the comics, being Virgil’s friend and confidante as well as his ocasional love intrest, but here while she was inteded to at least be his love intrest here, that sorta fizzled out. As for the best friend role we meet her replacement in Richie, which McDuffie conceded was the kind of change a studio would make swapping out a female character for a male one. That being said the crew made the best of it and Richie is awesome, a bit of an overcompensating dipstick at times, but a good sounding board and pal for virgil and funny as hell too. He was also gay, something only revealed post series by McDuffie.. but unlike say Dumbledore, it’s a bit easier to swallow here: The early 2000′s were an even worse time for gay characters in tv let alone cartoons, and if they couldn’t kiss or have sex scenes on regular tv, there was no way we were getting any representation in a children’s show. So it was largely just hinted at by Richie overcompensating in how “into girls” he was and i’m once again fine with this being word of god as it was literally the best they could do and his counterpart in the comics was also gay, if not as relevant.  Ritch encourages Virgil to work on his opening to ask her out as it’s awkward as heck, hits a bit close to home.. but I do appricate the show just .. having him try and ask her out from the first episode. They likely would’ve drug thigns out a bit granted had they used Frieda more, i’m not blind to the convetions of the time. .but as someone who got the very wrong idea from tv that just waiting around meant a girl would like you eventually, when no you need to actually try even if rejection happens, I honestly wish we had more of this in media than the other garbage morals at the time. 

So he prepares to , not helped by her mentioning guy after guy is asking her out.... but before he can F-Stop, the future hotstreak, shows up.  F-STOP

That being said...... it’s not as bad as the original gangster name for the comic’s version, Biz Money B. Yes BIZ MONEY B

So yeah while F-Stop is no more intimidating, it at least means I can stop laughing. Francis, because I can’t type F-Stop without laughing and this review is already behind, shoves Virgil out of the way and agressively hits on Frieda, even saying “you smell good”, the international sign your a douchebag and also to call the police. Virgil steps up to the guy and gets PAINFULLY slammed into the lockers, something I give the animation team a lot of credit for, as you can FEEL how fucking painful that was. Virgil is saved by Wade, another local gangbanger who in the comics was a close friend of Virgils but here saves him seemingly just because.. seemingly. 

On the way home though Virg’s problems don’t end as naturally, the giant sized asshole with nothing better to do has his goons corner virgil before VIOLENTLY beating him.. off screen but the noises, and the clear brusies including a black eye, on virgil afterwords.. just holy damn i’m suprsied they got away with this but it shows just how horrifing it was and that this is a step above regular bullying, which make no mistake is absoluttley terrible and the series would later do an episode on it and school shootings, into straight up gang violence. Wade shows up again and gets the bastards to flee.. but also makes it clear he can’t keep doing this.. and forces Virgil to meet him at his base under the bridge. And it’s a tense sequence, with Virgil KNOWING this is a bad idea but having no real choice and Wade making it abundantly clear that he wants Virgil to join his crew, and makes a chilling point: while Virgils dad RIGHTFULLY dosen’t want his son to join a gang as Virgil points out.. he can’t be there for him all the time and eventually one of those times, Francis will be around. And he may not surivive that. Virgil nods noncomittaly.  At home it gets even more grim as he dosen’t open up to his family, understandably as his dad would jsut say to call the police and well.. we’ve seen how the police treat black people. At best they’d just try and use Virgil as an informant and that likely wouldn’t end fucking well for Virgil. Ritchie points out he can’t join a gang, virgil’s mom died that way.. see told you it’d be important to the plot.. but I like how the story dosen’t offer an easy answer.. well okay he gets electric powers soon enough but without the fantastic element this is just an innocent kid caught between either joining the very thing his mom hated or hoping a system not built to protect him will keep him alive. It’s utterly saddening and chilling and holy shit is it amazing a cartoon in the early 2000′s was able to get away with.. ANY OF THIS, and they handle it great, paired down a bit from the comics but even then it’s still incredibly balsy they got THIS much in. 

Naturally Wade calls in his favor and our hero is forced to come running.. and soon finds out Wade’s brought him in for a massive gang war. Welcome to the big bang, baby. He hands Virgil a gun as things get started and Virgil.. drops the thing and tries to escape, in a harrowing sequence.. and runs into Francis because god apparently REALLY hates this kid today. As if to prove that the police show up and while that prevents a beating, they demand they disassemble. then release untested gas on them because of course they do. 

As a result the big bang truly begins, with the various gang members getting mutated.. and naturally so does virgil. Though he wakes up the next day seemingly fine. How’d he get home? Does his dad know where he was?

I don’t know and we’re not getting any answers, but Virgil soon finds weird stuff happening like his clock shorting out, change being attracted to him and his razor going wild. It’s only once he get sback to his room he gets an inkling of what’s going on and calls Ritchie to meet him at the Junk yard.. though it is a bit of a dick move as he dosen’t you know, tell him anything about Wade or Francis right away. He does at the yard though.. and that he has powers, having finally figured out how to use them to a point. And the series does provide a decent justification later as to why he’d get this so quickly: Virgil is a smart kid, gets great grades at school and apparnetly there’s even an episode later where he gets a scholarship to a fancy genius school. So him getting how elctromagntisim works or being a quick study on it makes perfect sense. 

Richie suggest the obvious.. to become a superhero. And the thought.. hadn’t occured to Virgil. It’s honestly a nice twist on the old trope. That he hadn’t thought of it, not because he’s selfish or any of that or needs to learn a hard lesson, those have been done.. simply because the rush of getting his powers, and implicitly of having a way out of his current predciament, a way to keep Francis off his back and keep Wade from pulling him in further. His own path. But once i’ts brought up.. he jumps on it. Part of it is being a nerd like you or I, of course he wants to.. and being a good intetioned one, he knows this is the right thing to do. It’s waht makes a superhero a hero: Anyone can get powers in a universe like this, esepcailly the dcau, but it takes true courage and heart to use them selflessly and knowing you’ll be in danger. It’s why I love surperheroes: they often didn’t ask for this but they do it anyway because somebody’s gotta. We also get an intresting wrinkle is superman is, at least I think in this episode I could’ve missed it or misremembered things, mentioned as a fictional character. That’s because originally like the comics this wasn’t part of the DCAU.. but eventually the crew decided it shared staff from it, shared a network, both first run and on reruns, why not just make it part of the DCAU proper. I fully support this decisionf: While i’m midly annoyed unlimited never really used anything from static shock outside of Static himself in the time travel episode, despite you know Static and Gear having BEEN to the tower and not being much younger than Kara and defintely older than Courtney, I chalk it up to weird rights issues or something like that. But having Batman, Batman Beyond, Superman, Green Lantern and the Justice League itself all guest star was a good idea, and expanded both static’s universe and gave the DCAU something differnt as most heroes in it were older and more experinced in contrast to the up and coming virgil. Again really would’ve been nice if he and gear could’ve been a part of the expanded league but production might of just been too far ahead or, given he had his own series, they might just have wanted to stick to toher characters. Also begs the question why Icon or Hardware wasn’t adapted for the expanded League but hey, questions for later and the tricky logisitics of the milestone rights might’ve been the issue. I don’t know I wasn’t in the room. 

So we get a costume montage, including Black Vulcan from Superfriends, who again ironically would be voiced by Lamarr not too long after this, though weirdly they DON’T use his outfit from the comics for this montage. I mean why not? It fits the gag and would’ve been a good second to last choice.But what could’ve been aside we get our winner and cut back to present day...

Thanks boys. Static finds out one of the things in the warehouse is a shipment of computers for the school and can’t help but show off, showing up to the school, where Frieda and Richie are setting up for the dance, and dropping off the computers, and even saying his catchphrase for the first time “I’ll put a shock to your system” (Which Richie chimes in with awesome line and I agree, great catcphrase), before helping set up and flirting with frieda. 

Though as Richtie says he’s a natural. He’s not wrong as he can work a crowd. .but back it up too as his first run out had him easily taking out the crooks, and as many teen superheros and fans of heroes of hte type, myself included will tell you, getting it right in one is not easy. Not even Miles MOrales was immune. All Static needs now is a villian. 

And the end of the episode provides one as we see, in horrifc and once again damn suprising detail most of hte new metas aren’t doing so good and are melting and other stuff and we catch up with Francis whose burning up.. and naturally given that hair, though given he named himself F-Stop it’s the least of his problems, he’s got fire powers and escapes to “Have me some fun”

So with that we end episode 1. And it’s excellent, a great way to introduce the hero and while the warehouse opening is a bit superflous, it is a decent addition, showing our heroes first outing in costume and giving us a bit of an action scene to get us through the very heavy rest of the episode. But the rest of the episode is no less grippping, telling the tale of a teen caught in an unwinnable scenario who suddenly finds a way out. And speaking of which waht of Wade? Will we see him again? Is he perhaps Ebon, the series big bad as I thought when I was a kid? What comes of the man who directly caused static’s origin?

Yeahhh that’s the one mistep I think the pilot makes. Frieda is understandable as that was likely a simple change in creative direction. This though? Why build this guy up if your not going to bring him back. I mean where he went was probably the grave, as he probably did due to his mutation, but it’s still VERY weird to spend a whole episode focusing on this guy, building him up as a big personal threat to our hero.. and NOT have him become the series big bad. And maybe he WAS supposed to be ebon and they just changed their mind. I don’t know but it bothers me it bothers me a lot. Otherwise though flawless. ONe more to go. 

Aftershock: We open outside an electronics store, as our heroes watch the news reacap what happened in the first episode, with the media dubbing it the Big Bang and revealing their could be hundreds of “Metahumans”, as Virgil dubs after deciding the media’s term “Mutant” dosen’t fit, a nice wink to the fact that that’s the term used in dc comics and I believe milestone but could be wrong there. Me I like the term, has a nice ring to it. 

At the store while Richie mulls over waht this means Static finds out he’s a human CD player.... this was before mp3 players and streaming on your phone made them horribly obsolete mind you and if you don’t know what one is congradualtions you live in some sort of bubble and you made me feel really old junior. 

Frieda happens to be there and Virgil quips “What’s the matter they run out of britney cds”. Dude she’s not bad. Also be careful what you wish for man. Nickeback returned the year after this. You have not truly suffered through bad music yet my young friend. They spot a kid looking feverish, and he soon turns into a purple werewolf, as you do. It’s a bang baby.. those are richie’s exact word and you may not want to start a panic there bud. Just saying your best friend is one. THeir not all like this. Our heroes book it only to run into Francis who naturally refuses to let them leave and only doesn’t try to beat up Virgil because Virgil points otu the werewolf and nonplussed, he goes to fight it, scarring it off by revealing his own powers. He’s now dubbed himself Hotstreak which points for getting an actually good name kid. No points for what happens next as unsuprisingly getting powers did NOT mak ehim a better person and he attacks Virgil who blocks with a garbage can lid and thankfully is blasted into an ally. Richie tries to guard frieda for damn obvious reasons but gets hsi shirt burnt up because shut up Thankfully Static shows up, and we get our firsdt full on superhuman fight as both fight each other with aplomb, and it’s a damn good fight.. and one that goes pear shaped for Virg as he’s caught off guard when he finds out Hotstreak can use his powers to fly, and tackles him and his previous trauma causes him to freeze up. Thankfully , as Frieda put in a call earlier, the fire department arrive and HOt streak has to retreat, though Virgil is bummed that he “Choked”. And I love this as it not only shows Virgil’s inepxerince, as this is his first time fighting a bad guy but that just because he HAS power now dosen’t mean trauma and his previous fear of Hotstreak goes away or you won’t freeze up from time to time. It dosen’t make him weak or anything like some assholes would call it .. it makes him human. Humans make mistakes, and it makes him all the more relatable that he’s not pefect and that he did freeze up as I know I certainly would at last once in the circumstances. 

Things don’t get better at dinner as Sharon and Pops argue over the bang babies with Pops calling them a meance and Sharon pointing out Static exists so they can’t all be bad. See assuming a group of superhumans are bad because a handful of them ar edick sis why the x-men had to get their own island nation. You can only save an ungreatful populous so many times before you say “fuck it i’m getting my own island, pay me for life saving drugs, save your damn selves and stop doing genocides on us. Kay thanks”. But he does bring up a valid point that rattles his son: We don’t know anything about the Bang Babies or their biological structures and it’s likely they might further mutate into monsters, Static included. 

Virgil, understandably, wants to check this and thus he and richie compare blood samples in science, to no real conclusion. She he checks out with his doctor who assumes he’s sexually active in a great getting crap past the radar bit and a bit of realisim, but he agrees to the test though if something came up he would have to tell Virgil’s dsad and is up front about this. Nice dose of realisim.

That night City Council has a meeting and the Mayor TRIES to deflect Papa Hawkins questions about the bang babies which again, while being a judgmental ass as not every person hit was a gang member (Virgil, and as we discover later some others), and not every gang member is there by choice, some by circumstnace some, like virgil almost was, because they HAD no other option. Again years of reading x-men may of just made me a bit touchy on assholes admitely assuming superpower people bad. But it’s clear the public is upset and while she says an investigation is underway... Virgil and Richie are not only not convinced, but figure she’s actively covering it up. And unlike everyone else there who probably suspects the same, they can do something about it and tail her.  It’s during this, and cleverly as I didn’t realie till writing this using similar skills to his human cd player act, Virgil listens in and discovers whose behind it: Edwin Alva, whose apparently richer than bill gates and a beloved phinarophist Alva, as it turns out, was actually the arch enemy of Hardware in the comics, taking advantage of the guy in his civiliian idtentiy and thus casuing him to launch a war on the asshole. He does transition into this series well though, being the one behind the gas that caused it and with the mayor agreeing to back off, planning to simply dump the info about the big bang on a disc then destroy everything for now till the heat dies down. Yup sounds like a corprate douchebag. 

Static tails him, finds the lab and infiltrates it, stealing the disc.. but getting caught by Alva’s goon, and trapped in a glass prison, forced to use ALL his power to escape and barely getting out alive, but not before bouncing off alva’s car. Still he now has the proof.. and meanwhile Hotstreak, who I was wrong did get captured, is forced to take pill sbut spits them out once the orderly is gone. Dude.. WHY DIDN’T YOU WATCH HIM. Make sure he swallows that shit especially since, as he has no powers right now and can’t harm you. 

Hotstreak escapes off screen and our heroes discuss the disc before he shows up, and we get a REALLY fucking amazing scene: Virgil ducks into an Alleway and ritchie is worried.. and Virgil disarms him with just one word responses Ritchie: Virg you can’t take him.  Virgil: Gotta. Ritchie: Well at least wait for the fire department Virgil: Can’t.  It’s simpile but it gets the point across: This is his fight, he can’t wait for help, and people need him. And this is what makes a true hero: It’s easy to be a hero when everythings going well.. but it’s the true ones who stick it out against the odds and fight anyway. And he’s going to.  So we get one hell of a fight, though naturally Hotstreak burns up the disc. And I do like this as it dosen’t feel contrived.. yes Static could’ve left it with ritchie.. but he wasn’t thinking in the moment and dind’t really have time to think abotu the disc, only that people were being hurt and he was all they had between them and Hotstreak. It was no choice at all. Still that pisses Virgil off that the last night’s work is now worthless, and he fully charges up and curbstomps francis who retreats into a clearing. Hostreak brags when static follows, as even he’s figured out Static needs to be around metal, as he’s usually on his disc or the street, and in the park there suppodsidly isn’t any. But he’s not THAT smart as Virgil points out two things: one, he hoped to do this on PURPOSE so they wouldn’t be around people and no on e would get hurt and 2).. this is a city, there’s metal everywhere.. and he awesomely and cleverly proves it by unlodging a sewage pipe with his powers and dousing his foe, winning and proving his stuff. I love this solution, it’s a clever spider-man type way to disarm him, using smarts and the einvroment instead of just brute forcing it. Though the sewage part wasn’t intetional our hero still won and gets praise from the people dumb enough to follow the fight. 

However at home Virgil points out it was  Pyrrhic Victory and shows off his smarts by telling the tale behind it, which I didn’t know,because tv tropes didn’t exist yet: king pyrhus fought the romans and WON.. but had so little armies left that he still lost overall. That’s what this feels like to Virgil: he beat hotstreak but any chance at a cure for Bang Babies and Alva going to jail for causing them is gone. His mood does get a boost though as the doctor calls and reveals he’s fine, he just has a bit too much elctrolytes and just needs to lay off teh salt. He celebrates, we get a quick gag and the episode ends

Aftershock is another stellar episoe, giving us Virgil’s first super foe and a personal one at that, while showing some growth. As richie tells him he’s not virgil anymore he’s static and he can’t let his past get to him.. and he does’nt going from cowering in fear to easily beating his foe with simple logic. It’s a good followup that answers questions you may have from the first ep, like what does this do to virgil’s body, who supplied the gas, and why has no one done anything about this, and sets up another villian for Static in Alva. Great stuff. I highly recommend these episodes and the show as a whole: it’s fast paced, grounded and enjoyable, having just enough levity to not be too dour but just enough tension and stakes to be intresting. A throughly fantastic superhero show and one that i’d certainly love to revisit on this blog If you have an episode of static or the dcau in general you’d want me to cover, my comissions are open and details are on a tab on my blog or can be gotten simply by asking me via ask or dm. Tommorow we’re going deeper underground, there’s too much damage in this town as the Lena Retrospective continues. So expect gay ducks, straight ducks and some terrfirmains. See you next rainbow. 

[snowgoldwaylon]

All Night Long - Alex Mason X Reader

Hey y'all, finally a Mason x reader from me. Not gonna lie, was really nervous for this one. I really hope you guys enjoy this!! As always, thank you all for all the love and support.

TW: Strong language, lots of fluff!!!

You despised the dating scene, and you didn't want to be a part of it anymore. Not after the last blind date your best friend, Helen Park set you up with. You know she meant good but..... It didn't end well.

That blind date tried to get you to join his religious cult, and move you to a different country. Not to mention, he had no respect or boundaries. This didn't fly with you.

So when you found yourself going on another blind date that Russell Adler set up, you were nervous.

*FLASHBACK*

"Oh Y/N, come on! This is a perfect color for you. He'll love it I swear. Just trust me!" Park said, a whine in her voice as she stood beside you, watching you do your makeup.

You turned quickly and threw a small glance in her direction. You cocked an eyebrow and went back to finishing your eyeshadow.

"Helen, I trust you don't get me wrong. But, I don't think the color white will suit me. You on the other hand looking stunning in white. I need some color, like this black Bon Jovi shirt!" You said with excitement, holding up a cut-off crop top of Bon Jovi.

She sighed and checked her watch. Now she was ready to get a move on!

"Y/N, you have exactly 51 minutes to get finished and meet him in town. I don't want to seem like the type of friend to rush you, but I'm rushing you. And not to mention when Adler comes back in he'll probably have your head." She said, sipping her wine.

You rolled your eyes, took the white outfit from her, and got changed into it. After you did, she looked at you up and down and gasped. She let out a small cheer and clapped.

"Oh my, Y/N you look breathtaking!!! ADLER!!!" She yelled.

He came back in and knocked first. He stepped in and smiled when he saw you.

"You look, great kid. Your date is going to fall through the floor." He said, lighting a cigarette.

You smiled and gave a twirl for them. You fixed up some last-minute makeup and hair and decided on a vintage pair of black and white heels. They complimented the dress.

Park handed you your purse, keys to your car, and some perfume. You sprayed some and you went over to the coat rack and grabbed a small jacket for the evening.

"Wait, hold on," Adler said. He reached into his pockets and handed you $100.

"Here. This is for beating my ass in Poker the other day. I figured you'd want it just in case." Adler said, also getting ready to leave.

"Thank you, Adler. Well, thank you both. I'm excited to see who he is!" You exclaimed.

You grabbed the keys to your 1983 Black Chevy Chevelle, finished with two white racing stripes down the middle of the hood. Adler let out a low whistle when he saw that beauty sitting in your garage.

"Y/N, where have you been hiding this gorgeous thing? Why don't you drive her more often? It's badass!" He exclaimed.

You chuckled and got in.

"Well, I only take her for special occasions. She's precious to me you know?" You started the car, and both Park and Adler cheered you on as you drove out of your driveway, and a way to the coffee bar you went to!

You were 5 minutes early. You parked your car and got out. You walked to the doors and stopped right before getting in. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself how everything was going to be alright.

You began walking again and opened the door. The coffee shop was small, yet immaculate and pristine. It seemed busy at the moment, and you began looking around for booth 10.

That's where you both agreed to meet, booth 10. You still had no idea who this man was. All you hoped for was someone who didn't want to kidnap you. You scanned the place until you saw booth ten.

There was a man already at it. His head was turned from yours, so you could only see his behind. You began walking towards him, your heels clicking on the floor beneath you the whole time.

As you got closer, you noticed how familiar the back of this man looked, especially the hair. But there was no possible way it was who YOU thought it was. That is.....

Until his head turned, and you stopped dead in your tracks. You both locked eyes and his jaw hit the floor.

It was none other than Alex Mason himself. So this is who Adler set you up with. Damn him! You thought. How did he know that you liked Mason??

"Y/N? You're my date?" Alex choked out.

You had to admit, he looked very handsome. He wore a nice dress shirt, black slacks, and wing-tipped shoes, polished to where you could see your reflection.

His hair was slicked back, and he had a clean shave. This man just single-handedly did that, he did.

"Well, Mason, it looks like I am. It's good to see you!" You said, taking a seat.

Mason also took his seat and passed you a menu.

"Get anything you want, it's on me. Also Y/N, can I just say.. " Mason trailed off. You nodded.

"You look so beautiful tonight. I-I mean you always do but tonight you are stunning. Also, is that your Chevelle in the parking lot??" He questioned.

You were blushing so hard at this moment. All you could do was nod your head until you looked him right in the eye.

"Well thank you, Mason, same for you. And yes it is! All original too."

The rest of the date went well after that. Soon, dates became a regular thing!

*END FLASHBACK*

*Timeskip, 6 months later*

Today was a horrible day for you. You had a long day with Adler in a bad mood. And everyone knows that doesn't usually end well. Lucky for you, you got the 'easy job.'

Organizing everything in his office into Alphabetical order, everything. Documents, books, records, hell even receipts of his.

All you wanted was to go home and call Mason. Your's relationship bloomed very well, and now it's 6 months deep! You got to your older car and put the key in the ignition.

You almost cried when you heard it didn't roll over, you just had a crank and click. So, that means the battery is most likely drained. And now everyone went home because you stayed late to finish the work Adler gave you.

You got out with your things and walked to Mason's house a few miles from HQ. Of course, today was the day you wore heels for a press conference. Now your feet were killing you, and you had about an hour walk in. But, you kept going until you heard a car beep behind you.

You turned to look, and see Mason. You went right over to him and slid into his passenger seat. He looked at you confused and worried.

"Honey, what happened? Why are you walking?" He asked sweetly.

You told him everything and he gave you a sympathetic look and hug. You didn't want to let go but he did.

"Well, why don't you come over. We'll find you more comfortable clothes to wear." He said, driving off.

You smiled and enjoyed the ride. You both talked about so many things on the way. You were nervous though.

You and Mason, at his house alone? It felt strange. But, you were ready for a possible couch nap.

He pulled in the driveway and got out. You also stepped out and looked over the small house.

"I rent the place for now until I find what I want," Mason said.

He opened the front door for you, and you stepped in. You walked in and saw a lot of pictures of you both together, or pictures of you.

You slipped your shoes off and sat down. You already felt such relief, you could fall asleep.

"Hey, take a nap if you need. I'll wake you back up, I promise." Mason smiled at you. You covered yourself with a nearby blanket, and out you went.

Eventually, you woke up, Mason asleep beside you. You saw nothing but darkness out the windows, and you scrambled to wake Mason up.

"Hey, it's late. I should probably go." You said, gathering your stuff.

"Wait, Y/N! It's late, why don't you stay here tonight?" Mason asked.

You blushed and nodded at him. He shot you a big smile back, setting your stuff down.

"I'll take the couch, you can sleep in my bed. It's comfortable!" Mason offered. This honestly kind of broke your heart a little.

"Or, how about we share a bed? It's not a big deal Mason. No need for anyone to wake up with a sore back." You said.

Mason laughed and nodded. He led you to his room and went over to his closet. He grabbed you a shirt and some shorts.

"Here, you can sleep in these. The bathroom is the farthest door on the left. I'll take you to fix your car in the morning." He said.

You went and changed into the comfy clothes, and came back to his room. Mason lay on one side of the bed and slipped the covers back for you.

You climbed right in and looked over at him.

"Cuddle me tonight?" You asked with a whimpering tone.

He nodded and pulled you close. Soon, you both drifted off to sleep with ease. What a good first night together.

[love-dreams]

build a rocket with me

pairing: joshua/reader

genre: angst, fluff

content: angst, break-up, long distance!au, idol!au emotional cheating, seunghee from clc!, angst ending

wc: 5k

note: omg 5k, i’m gonna be writing a part two for this too! thank you so much to @secndlife​ for helping me edit.. you’re amazing and i appreciate it so much. inspo: 《rocket》by seventeen (joshua and vernon), a continuation of my own long distance au blurbs: blurb1 blurb 2, netflix original: love alarm, @tonicandjins​ lie to me

It’s early in the morning when Joshua arouses you from your slumber, with a gentle shake and a soft, husky whisper, laced with drowsiness. The curtains are strewn shut in the dark room, the only source of light was the thin crack between the door and the wall of your bedroom. After another lackadaisical attempt to pull you out of your reverie, you opened your eyes, glancing sleepily up at your boyfriend through half-lidded eyes, a yawn already beginning to lodge itself in your throat. Groggily, you try to force your body upright with your forearms but your body is heavy from sleep and your limbs are limp without energy in the early morning.

“Josh, what time is it?” you mumbled, with an arm stretching out and fingers pawing at the bedside table for your glasses. 

You yawned mid-sentence, causing Joshua to chuckle, bending his body slightly over yours to impel you gently back to your original position. You gave in without resistance, arm limply hanging off the side of the bed and messy curls of hair framing your face on the pillow. 

He gazed into your sleepy orbs lovingly, caressing the side of your face with smooth strokes of his thumb. “I didn’t want to wake you, but I have to leave now. For tour. The guys and manager-hyung are waiting for me.”

In your sleep induced haze, you don’t fully comprehend Joshua’s words, lips mouthing an automatic, “Bye bye,” and your body already relaxing into the cushions.

Joshua couldn’t hold back the smile tugging at his lips, his heart feeling a little heavier as he gently pulled the door shut until it clicked, leaving you shroud in darkness once more. The last memory you have of that encounter was the warmth of your blankets embracing you.

“You should have woken me up!” you complained over the phone after you woke up. With a bloated face and oily skin, tangled strands of hair floating over your sight, Joshua almost chuckled at the fact that, even after just waking up, you were thinking about him. “I wanted to see you one last time before you left.”

Joshua smiled through the screen, a sleepy, exhausted smile, slight circles discoloring the skin under his eyes. “I didn’t want to, it was super early and I knew you had plans for the next day too.”

You pouted slightly, disappointed at the fact that you couldn’t send Joshua off to the airport, where he would soon be leaving for SEVENTEEN’s Asia tour. For three whole months. Just thinking about the time spent away from him made your heart hurt and your head swim. 

As you pulled out a chair from the countertop, you faintly noticed the white styrofoam box empty of its contents on top of a table behind Joshua.

“You already ate?” you questioned through a mouthful your breakfast ensemble.

Joshua nodded his head, a tired sigh escaping from his lips. He grabbed the phone off from where it was resting against a tissue box and collapsed onto the hotel bed, holding up his phone high above him, vertically, allowing you to see the crisp white sheets contrasting Joshua’s dark-colored hair; you could see the planes and slopes of his face and the slight dark circles rimming his beautiful chocolate brown orbs. Even then, sleep-deprived and bare-faced, he looked beautiful. 

He heaved another sigh, eyelids fluttering shut momentarily. “I miss you, Y/N.”

You purse your lips, trying to formulate an answer that will satisfy Joshua. “I do too, Shua. Work hard but don’t push yourself too hard, got it? Tell the other guys that as well,” you managed.

Joshua opened his eyes to stare at you through the screen. For a moment, there was a flicker of unease in his blank stare, causing your heart to stutter for a beat, but then, like a flick of a switch, his lips morphed back into a melancholy smile. “Okay, I will. Take care of yourself as well.”

You nodded, mirroring his smile, “I always do, Joshua.”

🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊

You really hoped that you could hold down the fort on your own without your boyfriend’s presence, but by the second week, it became apparent that you were heartbroken. Each passing day of living your life in absence of your boyfriend chipped at your heart; coming home to an empty home, eating dinner by yourself with two containers of takeout, routinely checking your phone for calls or texts. Your head was constantly plagued by worries of your boyfriend, if Joshua was eating well, if Joshua was tired from rehearsal, what Joshua saw that day; it became near-suffocating. 

The daily phone calls dwindled to once every few days to once or twice each week. Every evening you would make dinner for yourself, shower and sit, alone, under the covers of your bed, waiting beside your phone to see if he would call; sometimes he did and sometimes he didn’t. Either way, you had developed an unhealthy habit of staying up late at night until the sky was jet black and the city was silent, waiting in the dim, silent bedroom until you fell asleep.

“Hey baby, how are you? I’m sorry for not calling yesterday.”

A month had passed and Joshua was still touring with the other SEVENTEEN members. At this point you had developed a steady rhythm to your life and, although the yearning for your boyfriend was still present in your heart, you had started to feel a little happier and less lonely.  

In the background you could faintly make out other echoes of voices, informing you that your boyfriend wasn’t alone in the room. It looked like a new hotel room as well; the sheets were crisply tucked into the mattress with thick cream-colored blankets laying neatly on top. 

“It’s fine, we were performing anyway and didn’t get back until way late. Have you been eating well?” 

You smiled half-heartedly, a little bloom of warmth nestling in your chest from his concern. You uncrossed your hands from your lap, poking your chopsticks at the little untouched grains of white rice in your bowl. “Yeah, and you? I hope you’re eating proper meals.”

“Shua! The kimchi fried rice is here!”

Joshua’s lips broke out in a grin and yours cracked into a small smile as well at Jeonghan’s voice. 

“Okay, wait a sec,” Joshua whispered. “I’m talking to Y/N right now!” he called back. Dropping his gaze back to you, Joshua frowned apologetically, “Baby, can-”

“Go get your food, Shua,” you interrupted reassuringly, “Make sure to take care of yourself okay? And I promise to do the same.”

Joshua nodded and tilted his head endearingly, “I will and I love you, Y/N.”

Then he hung up.

On one fateful Saturday morning, your friend and coworker, Seunghee, decided to take you out to a cafe as a cure for your loneliness. It was a small cafe nestled in the city landscape, with large windows letting the rays of morning glow dance across the polished wooden floor. The two of you seated yourselves by one of the glass windows and ordered coffee with some snacks.

“So,” she leaned in, interlacing her fingers and resting on her elbows, with her weight over the table. “Tell me what’s going on with you and Joshua.”

Your eyebrows rose in surprise of the sudden question, choking on the green plastic straw of your iced americano. You coughed slightly, reaching for a napkin to dab at your moist lips. “I’m not sure what you mean. Josh and I are fine. We even called… just the other day,” you trailed off, voice growing weaker at the end. 

Seunghee rolled her eyes disbelievingly, retracting her arms to reach for her drink, taking a sip as well. “Oh yeah? Then tell me why you’ve been arriving to work looking like you’ve stayed up all night crying to rom coms.” You chortled in disagreement but didn’t refute what she said. “C’mon Y/N, you obviously have something up. Are you two fighting or something?”

“No, no,” you shook your head. You pushed your drink aside, folding your hands neatly on top of your skirt in an effort to look organized, brushing stray strands of hair out of your frame of vision, tucking them neatly behind your ears. Averting your gaze to the large windows of sunlight, you spoke softly, “We’re not fighting or anything. It’s just a little hard to explain.”

Seunghee nodded, backing off and scrunching her nose in discontent. “Well, that’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, just lemme know when you’re comfortable, okay? I’m worried about you.”

You smiled and gratefully thanked her for asking about you, settling into a prickly, awkward silence between the two of you. That serious atmosphere was finally lifted after a waitress delivered your orders; the two of you thanked her profusely and continued on with another light-hearted conversation. In the middle of drinking your coffees and taking small bites out of your sandwiches, Seunghee left for the restroom, grabbing her purse and phone to retouch on her makeup, all the while leaving you alone with your plates of food all by yourself.

You could hear the background cafe sounds of a coffee maker grinding and the rush of cars in the street; the city was just starting to wake up for the day ahead. It was a peaceful, and calm atmosphere, with a few more customers trickling in, it was like you were surrounded by a bubble of tranquility-

“Hey.”

Your head whipped around in surprise, heart jumping two beats. Your head turned side to side frantically as your eyes scanned the desert of vacant tables and chairs for the sudden voice. 

“Oh, sorry for surprising you! I’m over here, haha,” he laughed shyly, scratching his head awkwardly.

Turning a whole 180 degree rotation, behind you, you were met with the smiling face of a stranger. He was sitting backwards on his chair, head resting across his arms hanging over the back of it. 

You let out a breath of relief, head falling forward slightly. 

“Um, hi, do I know you?”

He grinned wider, a line of straight white teeth and full, pink lips. You refused to note the way that your heart skipped a beat and your cheeks became warm.

“No, but you can now! I’m Leo, and you must be Y/N?” He spoke in an optimistic, cheerful manner adorned with a cute eye smile. He radiated a type of innocence like the morning sun that was, at this time, turning into a blazing, burning heat outside of the air-conditioned building.

You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling apprehensive and suspicious. “Yes, my name is Y/N, and how do you know that?”

Leo chuckled and leaned back a little, sheepishly saying, “I may or may not have overheard your conversation with your friend... Seunghee, right?”

You parted your lips to respond but before you could, Seunghee was back from her trip to the restroom. Her lips were painted bold, apple red lipstick, and a new coat of mascara was applied onto her eyelashes. 

She halted in front of the table, confusedly glancing between you and Leo. “Sorry, am I interrupting something here?”

You reeled back, turning away from Leo to face Seunghee. Plastering a smile on your face, you shook your head, “Ah, no. We were just making small talk while I was waiting for you.” Seunghee raised an eyebrow disbelievingly, but slid into her seat anyway, a little smirk present on her face as she daintily bit into her sandwich. By the time the two of you had finished your meals and drinks, it was already a little past noon and the city was full in motion. Cars were whizzing by on the streets, accompanied by a steady rush of footsteps on the sidewalk. 

As you got up from your seat, grabbing your things along with you, you noticed that the stranger hadn’t left yet, head buried in a book and a forgotten cup of coffee on the table.

You felt a nudge to your side, glancing behind you in annoyance. “Go!” Seunghee whispered encouragingly, pushing you toward the male and walking briskly away to pay for your food.

Leo looked up, just as you stumbled toward him, unsteady footsteps drawing his attention away from the book.

“Wait- I-. Hi. Um, sorry, my friend-” you stammered, sweat already beginning to build up at the uncomfortable situation your friend had just pushed you into.

His face broke into a smile, taking off his round-rimmed glasses and closing his book softly. “Hi Y/N.”

You turned your head to scan for Seunghee, but she was already vacant from the cafe, leaving you by yourself in the most awkward situation you would have imagined. You sighed in slight annoyance, fingers pinching at your nose in habit. 

“I’m sorry, my friend… Seunghee pushed me, I didn’t mean to bother you or anything. She thinks I might be interested in you or something, I’m really sorry.”

Leo maintained his eye smile, gesturing dramatically at the chair opposite to him for you to sit down. Cautiously, you slid into the seat, tucking your skirt underneath you clumsily. Your eyes darted from Leo to the counter, then to the windows on your left. 

He took a sip of his coffee, unbothered by the nervous tension radiating from you. Scrunching his nose from the bitterness, Leo set down the cup and folded his hands in his lap. “It’s okay, we can’t control our attraction, not that I’m saying you like me or anything. We can’t control a lot of our feelings,” he paused tracing the lettering on the cover of the book. “We feel what we feel, loneliness, love, anger, that’s all natural and you shouldn’t feel apologetic.”

You nodded, fingers twisting the fabric of your skirt into wrinkles. “I guess you’re right, but don’t we have to be understanding sometimes? I just think that always conveying our emotions is sometimes selfish.”

Leo tilted his head, lips pursing, “I heard that you and your boyfriend are going through something? Do you want to talk about it?”

You averted your gaze to pick at the sleeve of your dress. “Yeah, he’s on tour at the moment, so I guess I decided to go out for once.”

“You sound a little unhappy about that.”

You scrunch your eyebrows together, trying to choose your next words carefully with consideration. “Well, it does get a little lonely, but he’s pursuing his dream, and that’s all that matters. I wanna support him on this.”

“And you? Do you have any life goals?”

You paused again, leaning back into the chair. “I’m aspiring to be a writer, so yeah, I suppose.”

“Wow, aren’t you two an artsy couple, huh.”

You smiled in slight embarrassment, cheeks rising in temperature. “I guess we are. How about you? Any life goals?” 

He broke into another breathtaking grin, hopes and aspirations pouring out of his mouth like a waterfall. As you sat with him, you felt so refreshed and energized with a new bout of motivation. Your heart swelled in happiness for the first time in weeks and you couldn’t help the broad smile tugging on your lips.

When he finally paused, you voiced your thoughts, “Thanks for chatting with me, Leo, I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

Leo grinned, choosing to ignore your statement. He rose his cup to gulp down the last droplets of his now cold coffee. Letting out a discontent sigh, he gazed forlornly at the empty cup. “Unfortunately, by talking to you all this time I neglected my poor cup of coffee. As payment, you could, I don’t know, give me your number?”

You held his gaze with a warm smile, a shy blush creeping onto your cheeks and a faster tempo playing in your heart. It was endearing, his attentiveness to you. A therapeutic sense of calm washed over you and you couldn’t help but feel grateful and indebted.

You agreed on impulse, without an inkling of hesitation in your voice. 

After paying (Leo insisted on doing so, for the both of you), the two of you exited the cafe together and parted ways good-naturedly. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, you pulled out your phone, you saw multiple text messages from Seunghee and a couple missed calls. 

Dialing her number, you raised your phone to your ear hesitantly, glancing at the people strolling past you. 

“Hello?”

“Jesus Y/N, do you know how long you spent there? It’s been almost two hours already! You have a boyfriend, you know?”

You laughed her comment off, twirling a strand of hair around your index finger and kicking at the loose gravel pieces. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Seunghee, and don’t worry, it wasn’t like that. We talked a little and, it’s fine, he already knows that I have a boyfriend.”

Seunghee huffed, “Fine, but I can’t believe you ditched me like that, I thought we were friends.”

“Technically, you ditched me first.”

She mockingly sighed, “For the good of your sorry relationship! Anyway, stay safe on the way home and text me later.”

You called for a cab, sitting in the leather backseat quietly with your phone in hand. Pulling up Leo’s contact evoked a smile on your face; the two of you had exchanged numbers in the midst of having more-than-one cup of coffee together, and also having more conversation than you had had with Joshua for months. You held your phone up to your chest, heart beating rapidly and eyelids shut in imagination. Your thoughts drifted to Leo’s smile, his brushed, brown locks of hair, his plush, peach lips-

Joshua. 

A truck of guilt smashed you out of your reverie, sending tremors of stress and anxiety to vibrate through your body. It was a crushing type of guilt that squeezed at your heart and collapsed your lungs. Adrenaline rushed through your veins, and you clenched your fists out of reflex. You were just romanticizing about another man when you were in a perfectly content, perfect relationship with your boyfriend. In your head, you could only imagine what Joshua’s face would look like if you told him what you had happened or the feelings that you had felt. 

The second the taxi pulled up to your street you pushed the car door open wide, swaying slightly on your feet, feeling distraught and shameful, knowing that it would only be downhill from that point onward.

🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊

“If you’re not happy with Josh then you should break up with him.”

You leaned back in your reclining chair, head tilting backwards and eyes squeezing shut from the bright light. You rubbed at your temples, trying to fend off the impending migraine creeping into your skull. “It’s not that easy, Seunghee, and I am happy with Josh.”

Seunghee spun you around, throwing herself into the empty chair beside you. “Is this about that guy we met in the cafe the other day?”

You opened your eyes in surprise, a sudden bout of stress striking your stomach. “Wh-what? What about him?”

Seunghee leaned on your desk, rolling her eyes, “It’s obvious. You clearly like him, and maybe that’s a good thing.”

“No, it’s not,” you adamantly denied, fingers digging into your computer keyboard as you pounded the backspace key. “I’m dating Joshua, and I barely know Leo, we saw each other for one day and that’s it.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Well maybe you should get to know this Leo guy better.”

You turned around, eyes narrowing into a withering glare. “Seunghee, stop it. I’m trying to figure out how to talk to Josh, not destroy our relationship.”

Seunghee backed off, reluctantly standing up and holding her hands out in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’m just saying that, it’s not fair for you to be ignored either.”

You stayed silent that time, fingers pausing slightly over the keys as you pondered her statement. You readjusted your glasses, tucking another strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Like, when was the last time the two of you even called?”

When was the last time you heard Joshua’s voice? Or held each other? You were even beginning to forget the features of his face: the curve of his nose, the plush of his lips were all fading away. 

Your heart sunk in your chest, “I’m not even sure anymore.”

🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊

You started to prepare dinner, taking out your ingredients out of the refrigerator meticulously in an organized fashion, a complete contrast to your actual state of mind. Your head was too wrapped up in your own thoughts to even concentrate on the vegetables being laid out in front of you. Scenarios upon scenarios filled your brain to the brim, until the stress and anxiety bubbled over; your hands shook while holding the knife when thinking about how to explain to Joshua about Leo and your stomach cramped at the mere thought of Joshua’s facial expression. Bringing down the knife onto the cutting board, you rapidly finished preparing your ingredients.

The dial tone of your phone rang through the sound of the kitchen machinery, the sound echoing through the empty apartment. You quickly scooped up some of the fried rice into a porcelain white bowl, setting it down on the countertop along with your eating utensils. 

Shakily, you pressed “accept” on the screen, Joshua’s face popping up within seconds adorning a wide smile and shiny crescent eyes full of happiness.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and suddenly you felt a rush of light-headedness.

“Y/N! I’ve missed you so much, it’s so good to see your face again,” he said softly, fond adoration present in his voice.

You nodded shallowly, poking at the rice grains with your chopsticks absentmindedly. “I’ve missed you too,” you mumbled in a lackadaisical manner, your eyes refusing to meet him.

“Y/N?” Joshua trailed off, a confused look on his face with flashes of hurt present in his eyes. “Is there something bothering you?”

You swallowed roughly, fingers roughly gripping onto your chopsticks. 

Just spit it out, do it, do it, do it now-

“I-I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Silence. Dead, immovable silence. Your heart stopped beating and it felt like your ears were on fire, taking in every movement of sound. 

Taking a deep breath, you looked up briefly to assess the damage, but it was like the screen was frozen: Joshua’s facial expression was frozen, but his eyes were devoid of the smile from before. For a moment, you were scared that the connection had timed out and that you wouldn’t have the courage to repeat your statement. Then you noticed the slight trembling of his pink lips, frail and shy like blush flower petals.

“You don’t mean that,” he managed out in a spluttering breath, a fake smile plastered onto his face. 

You shook your head, voice a little louder this time, “I want to break up, Joshua.” 

Your veins were on fire and your vision was constricted to just the phone screen. It was like a tsunami of pent up emotions, sadness, anger, loneliness, were rushing to shore, spilling out of your mouth in a single sentence. 

Joshua repeated your gesture, shaking his head rapidly. His head tipped down in a mess of hair so you couldn’t see his face. “You said that the distance didn’t matter, that you were still mine! I thought-I thought we were fine together.” 

Joshua’s voice broke at the end. You noticed the slight heaving of his shoulders and chest and the quiet sniffles of his tears.

Taking a deep breath to control your nerves, you firmly rebuffed him, “I thought differently back then. We’re both reaching our peaks in our careers, I don’t want us to get in the way of both of our dreams.”

You could see Joshua trying to calm down his rapid breathing, a hand coming up to wipe the shimmering droplets off his cheeks. 

“Did-did I do something wrong?” he stammered. “I don’t want to give up on us, Y/N. Can you just explain yourself a little bit? Just a little. Whatever it is, I’m sure we can figure it out, together.”

You took another deep breath in, letting your eyelids fall shut for a moment. After a couple beats of silence, you brusquely answered him, “I’m sorry, Josh. I’m really tired, I don’t want to come home to a silent house, or go to bed by myself waiting for you. I’m tired and I’m also lonely. These once a week phone calls just aren’t enough for me, and I know that you’re busy, I understand that. I just don’t think I can wait for you anymore. The group is doing super well overseas, and I would never want you to have to choose between your career and me.” 

You stopped for a moment to contemplate your next words. Joshua was silent and unmoving except for the slight shudders of sobs and fluttering of his eyelashes. When he didn’t respond, you continued, driving your next words deep into Joshua’s flesh and skull. “I’m choosing for you, for us. I’m choosing to let you go.” 

Your words rung in the silence between the two of you, in the background of your side of the screen, you could hear the slight hum of the lights and the city bustle on loop outside. Contrary to you, Joshua heard nothing but your words replaying in his mind in his empty hotel room. He had asked the other members to leave since he wanted the call to be private and more meaningful. Now, alone, his mind had tuned out from reality, feeling slightly dizzy from the sudden rush of emotions: sadness, despair, hopelessness. He swallowed, his dry throat protesting from the harshness, but refused to take a sip of water from the bottle in front of him. 

“Josh? Are you still there?” you asked gently, worry creeping into your voice.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. He grabbed a tissue to dry his tears. “I’m tired, Y/N. I’m going to hang up now and go to sleep.”

“Okay…” you hesitantly agreed, “Sleep well, Joshua.”

“I will.”

And then he hung up, collapsing into the armchair in wracking, heartbreaking sobs.

🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊

“Wait, what? What do you mean Y/N broke up with you?”

Joshua groaned at Jeonghan’s incredulous tone, covering his face with the hotel pillow, the white covering crinkled and stained from his tears. Digging his face deeper, Joshua didn’t even know where to begin. It was as if the more he tried to understand you, the more he grew entangled in his never-ending web of questions. 

“She said she was doing it for me,” he mumbled into the pillow. Joshua turned so he was facing Jeonghan, arms gripping the cushion to his chest. “And the worst part is that I don’t even know this was coming.” He sat up, legs crossed, to look at Jeonghan through puffy, red eyes. “Y/N was probably thinking about this for weeks and I didn’t even know. And I didn’t even call her for two weeks.” A tear slipped off the bridge of his nose, little droplets darkening the sheets. “I was hurting her all this time and I didn’t even know,” he sniffled.

Jeonghan sighed and slung an arm around his best friend, hugging him close to his body as Joshua cried his eyes out, another wave of sobs wracking his frame.

Jeonghan patted Joshua’s back while listening to the sobs of the other male, letting his arm hang limp around him. “I don’t understand either. Y/N seemed fine when you guys were calling each other, something must’ve happened for her to make this decision so abruptly.”

His sobs died down as Joshua tried to catch his breath. He looked up, “What do you mean?”

Jeonghan exhaled, bringing up one hand to ruffle through his hair. “I don’t know man, I think you two have to talk though. Face to face. It’s not fair for her to break up with you through a call, you know, closure and stuff.”

Joshua nodded along, slowly drying his tears. He reached over for a tissue, blowing hard and throwing it into the trash bin. He stared at the blank sheets before saying determinedly, “Yeah, you’re right. I need to talk to her face to face.”

🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊 🟊

The second the members left the airplane, stepping out into the airport lobby, Joshua pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the keys in a text message. “Hey Y/N, I’m home...” He paused, thoughts whirling in his head, thumb hovering over the send button.

“Shua!”

Joshua glanced up to see the members standing a few steps before him, all of them adorning confused, exhausted expressions, some annoyed, some indifferent to his aloofness.

He quickly tucked his phone back into his back pocket, taking quick strides to reach the other boys.

“Hey man, you okay?” Mingyu muttered under his breath as Joshua caught up to him.

“I’m fine,” he responded nonchalantly, walking closer to Jeonghan in an attempt to distance himself from the other members. Jeonghan slung an arm around Joshua, trying to comfort him in any way possible. “I’m fine,” Joshua repeated firmly.

The car ride to the dorms was silent, only the softness of snores and intakes of breath could be heard in the van. Most of the members were either sleeping or keeping to themselves after the long and exhausting Asia SEVENTEEN tour. Joshua felt immense guilt and blame for the breakup; he blamed himself, essentially, for abandoning you and for choosing his career over you. 

Now, as he looked out of the rain splattered window, Joshua understood the suffocation you felt when he was gone. The guilt gripped at his heart, making it harder for him to breathe. 

By the time they had all arrived back in the dorms it was already evening, the sky turning a beautiful swirl of pink cotton candy clouds and blue gray.

Pink represented his love for you, ever so light and present, fluffy wisps drifting into nothingness. 

Gray represented his sadness, his anger for you. He could never bring himself to hate you though, Joshua knew that you must have had a reason.

So he waits. Waits for you to come back to him, to explain to him.

[yuusa]

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐨𝐝 𝟖

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟐𝟏𝟖𝟏

𝐀 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐲

𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝟖:

She turned her head to you menacingly, her dull orbs fixated on you as she walked closer to the altar. In her hands was a bowl of fruits, one of a lifetime where she offered God more than simple fish bones or food waste. Perhaps she finally realized the best way to appease them was to show actual gratitude. You stared at the back of her head, glaring holes into it. You bit your lip when she pulled you from the corner and threw you in front of the altar, your head hitting the floor while she stood above you.

“God. . . Please accept this gift and finally release this spirit.” 

The sickening rush of disgust flowed through your body, the feeling of your worthlessness sinking into your bones made you utterly disgusted on the inside. You hated this feeling. You hated feeling this way.

You hated feeling so lonely because of her. 

It was all her fault that you felt this way.

You dug your nails into your hand before getting into your feet, you reeled your hand back and punched her in the face, her screams echoing in the room as you heard her skull hit the wall. She released an anguished cry while you picked up the bowl of fruit, smashing the ceramic by throwing it onto the floor. The shards covering the wooden surface and cutting parts of your skin.

You grit your teeth and clenched your fist tightly, your eyes glaring down at her in anger. You picked up the broken bowl, the longest shard being held in your hand as you kneeled next to her. The altar of God watching over you, looming over your childish figure as you raised the shard above your head.

“(L/n)-san?” You snapped your neck to the voice at the door, his grey hair and eyes staring at you in shock. “What are you doing. . . ?”

You dropped the shard, the piece shattering into even smaller pieces as you stared up at him in shock, his face was slightly blurred but you interpreted him as someone significant.

“M-Monster.” He turned his attention onto the bleeding woman, the red color of her blood staining the white walls as she clutched her skull. “Y-You’re a monster!”

“N-No. . . I’m not. . .” Your eyes began to weep as you held your hand out, trying to reach him, “don’t leave me! I-I’m not a monster!”

Before you could even make the effort to stand up, he had already run through the door, leaving you behind.

“Don’t leave me!”

Your eyes snapped wide open as you sat up. Your neck was sweating and your cheeks felt wet, you looked around your surroundings, seeing that you were still in Yuki’s room. You tilted your head over to see that he was still asleep and you sighed a breath of relief, but your heart was still pounding as if you just ran a marathon.

You pulled your legs over the bed and slipped out from under the sheets, doing it carefully as to not wake up Yuki. You tucked back the sheet neatly and made your way to the door, you picked up your belongings and almost opened the door until you decided to pull out a slip of paper. You turned to Yuki and quickly wrote a letter to thank him and his family for letting you stay the night. You placed the note next to his tissue box and quietly slipped through the door.

You wondered if it was rude to leave like this, but you couldn’t bear to think about having the Sohma family take care of you. All of this business of coming over to the Sohmas wasn’t like you, this wasn’t your lifestyle.

Having people in your home, seeing and talking to others, enjoying dinner with people, it wasn’t who you were. This wasn’t your life at all.

You didn’t belong here.

You belonged in the bleak apartment you pay rent for, cooking and cleaning for yourself, sleeping by yourself and studying alone. You didn’t want to get comfortable in someone else’s life.

You hurriedly put on your shoes and slid the front door open, it was the early morning and you made your way back home. You looked over your shoulder, seeing one of the windows open but no one being near the edge. You wondered which room that was, but you turned away and quickly left the Sohma family property. As you walked down the pathway, you almost felt as if you were being watched, but dismissed it as your own paranoia.

You set your bags down against the table as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You were still wearing one of Yuki’s shirts. Eventually, you’re going to have to clean it and return it back to him as fast as possible. You opened your closet and picked out a specific set of black clothes before heading towards your bathroom for a bath. 

Today was a special day in the week.

You turned the knob, the bath filling up with water as you brushed your teeth at the sink. It was still quite early in the morning, if you had left Yuki’s house later, you might not even have time to visit the local flower shop. You prepared a towel on the side and stripped your clothing, letting it drop onto the floor as you slipped into the bath. You breathed a sigh of content as you sunk deeper into the water, your body instantly relaxing.

The smell of flowers calmed you as you closed your eyes, feeling yourself drifting away in the water. Today was one of those days. The day where you visit the cemetery to see someone. You cracked your eyes open and raised your hand, the water pooling in the center of your palm and flowing back down to the giant mass. You wondered if she was truly dead as they say she was. You had visited her last week but cut your visit early in order to buy school supplies. For a moment you almost thought to quit your weird spending habits but it brought you a small gift of happiness which fades every month.

You sat and soaked in the bath before slipping away to drain the water. You wrapped the towel around your body as you stared at the mirror showing your reflection. Your (e/c) eyes looked intimidating as ever, a small frown plastered on your face. You dried your hair and quickly got dressed in your black outfit.

When leaving the house you grabbed onto your journal and wallet to make your way to the local flower shop. The woman gave you a small smile and asked you if you wanted the usual request, to which you nodded and she wrapped up the gift. You usually ordered the same types of flowers, lavender and camellia. Perhaps lavender could make her feel at ease and sleep well. Camellia was a type of flower you originally came across several years ago. You thought it’s meaning was touching, so you intended on buying various types of the flower in the form of perfume and various hygiene products to enforce the concept you learned.

Your coworker questioned you regarding the specific meaning of your perfume scent since you always seem to buy the same one, but you often gave her vague answer, not really one to let her pry into a personal part of your life. You checked the time on your phone, seeing that it was only 6:30 am, you made your way towards the cemetery.

You bowed in front of the priests before walking up the flight of stairs and seeing the many graves lined up next to each other. You trailed past each of the grey stones, remembering their names vaguely until you came upon the one you were looking for. It was old and recently cleaned, making you wonder who had come to visit. It wasn’t decorated that often, but this time it was much newer than you remembered it to be. Perhaps one of the priests decided to clean it as you never bothered to acknowledge the dirt and grim that formed.

You bent your knees down and placed the flowers in front of the stone, your hand outreached as you traced your hand over the characters of the name. The feeling of cold stone contrasting the warmth of your fingertips. 

“(L/n), (Y/n).”

Your eyes dulled as you stared at your name engraved in the stone. Your heart beginning to feel cold as you sat in front of your grave, one that your parents had done several years ago when you were a child. You marked this as the “former” you, a manifestation of your childhood. One thing that always seemed to haunt you every single night was staring at you in the face, mocking you by having your name on its body.

You clutched onto your shirt, placing it where your heart lies.

It’s almost as if she still lives within you, begging for release or a conclusion.

Or perhaps even acceptance?

“You come here every week, is this someone very special to you?” A male figure asked, his dark hair flowing with the wind as he walked towards your kneeling body.

He had pale skin, snow-white like Yuki’s. He was dressed in all black, a dress shirt and slacks with professionally looking shoes. His hand was buried in his pocket as he stood next to you. He looked fairly attractive, with a feminine face that reminded you of Yuki. 

“Oh. . . Yes, they are very important to me.” You responded, turning your attention back to the gravestone, your frown deepening. This was the first time someone other than a priest is coming to talk to you about the gravestone. 

“Mhmm. . . Have you ever wondered if God could bring them back?” He asked, smiling as he read the name on the stone.

“I don’t think they have the power to do that.” You replied.

“What makes you say that?”

“If God was able to bring someone back, they could have used that strength to make the Zodiacs happy.” The tips of his lips twitched as he remained smiling at your answer.

“Do you like the Zodiacs?” He questioned. 

You pressed your lips together, wondering where this conversation is supposed to be going. “I suppose so. . .”

“What year are you?”

“(Z/y) [Zodiac Year], but. . . I don’t really think I connect with them whatsoever.” You heard him hum in response. 

“Is that so? What animal would you like to be then?” He stared down at your choice of flowers, humming at the sight of them leaning against the grave. Camellias were also a way to display the concept of discretion, but it seems as if you specifically chose white camellias. A sign of purity, waiting, and the love between a mother and child. What an interesting flower. . . Reminds the man of a time when he was given a camellia as a gift from someone special. 

“An eagle.” You answered. 

He continued to further interrogate you in a casual manner, “why is that?” 

You fumbled with the edge of your clothes, questioning yourself about the mysterious man standing next to you, debating whether or not discussing philosophy in front of a gravestone was normal. 

“. . . Because they are strong. If anyone could talk to God, it would be them.” You continued, “the eagle would be closest to God, the eagle could be the Messenger of God if it meant revoking the Rat’s duties.”

“Would the eagle leave God’s side?” 

“No, if they did it would make them lonely as well. I don’t think the eagle wants anyone to feel as lonely as they do.” You tightened your fist, the knuckles turning white as you held it close to your body. “Being lonely. . . It hurts.” 

His eyes widened at your reason. The unknown male beside you began to laugh, your eyebrows crinkled as you pressed your lips together. He bent back slightly, his hand caressing his hair as he laughed contently. He seemed to have enjoyed your response greatly. Was your answer that foolish for him to laugh at it? Was he mocking you? You bit the bottom of your lip as his laughter slowly died down.

“You’re interesting.” He crouched down to your position, your eyes meeting each other for you to see his dark brown orbs. He reached out to you, his nails trailing against your skin as you felt his cold hands contrast the warmth of your body. “You have very special eyes. . .” He whispered ominously, inaudible to your ears.

“So, Messenger of God, what is your name?”

“. . . (L/n) (Y/n). . .” You replied, your mind feeling almost light as you continued to lose yourself within his eyes. Almost as if your body seemed to be possessed by some unknown entity, you had responded to him so easily. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you (L/n)-san, my name is Akito.”

[criticizing-blogger]

I Promise - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warning: cursing, gory details

Word count: 1973

Sam and Dean sat at the motel room table, going over the small amount of evidence they had collected. The men still had yet to question the parents of the other missing kids. They had called it quits for the day because it was getting late. Sam’s laptop sat in front of him, multiple tabs open about mythology. Yet, he couldn’t figure out what’s been terrorizing the town. Of course, they do have little evidence to go on. Dean, on the other hand, had books open of almost every monster that they had faced.

Sam sighs as he closes his laptop, rubbing his face with his hands afterward. "I can rule out most of the monsters we’ve hunted."

Dean closes the book he was reading. "Same here. We just need to keep figuring this out. And fast."

Sam nods leaning back into his chair. With it being late at night, he decided to check the local library in the morning to see if he could find any information for the case. Maybe a folktale, since the internet isn’t giving him much, the books Dean was reading weren’t helping either. Hopefully, the library will help, Sam thought. The two brothers didn’t have a clue as to what was terrorizing the town. “I’ll check the local library and see what they have. Check with the parents of the missing kids and see what they have to say.”

Dean nods his head.

__________

It was early in the morning when Dean woke up. He sits up stretching his arms over his head and yawns. He grabbed the pillow that laid behind him, throwing it towards his brother. “Rise and shine, Sammy.” But there came no response. Usually, Dean would hear a groan or a shout, or would even be hit back. He looks at his brother’s bed only to see it empty.

The door to the motel room opened to Sam in joggers clothing walking in. Shutting the door, he looks over at the brother in bed to see him staring. “What?”

Dean rolls his eyes and groans as he falls back onto the bed. He closes his eyes hoping to fall back asleep. 

“Dude, get up.” Sam spoke but when he got no reply, he told him again. And still, no reply. Sam knew Dean was just ignoring him so he huffs and grabs what he needs for a shower. When the man in bed hears the bathroom door close, he pops one eye open looking towards it. He hears the water start running and a grin makes its way onto his face. Dean stretches his arms up over his head then flips onto his stomach, putting his arms under his head and gets comfortable.

Not much longer later, Sam finishes his shower, quickly drying off and getting dressed. He walks out just to see Dean had fallen back to sleep. Sam walks over to his bed grabbing the pillow. He slowly and quietly made his way over to his sleeping brother. Knowing Dean, he can fall asleep faster than Crowley can snap his fingers which according to Sam, it did not surprise him.

He stood next to Dean’s bed, the pillow raised with his arms. The white object slammed right into the sleeping man's head. Sam quickly pulled it back in time just as Dean pulled the gun out from his other pillow sitting up, pointing it at Sam. “Damn it, Sam!” He sticks the dangerous weapon back in its original place. “I was having a hot dream with a sexy stripper.”

“Gross, Dean.” Sam states with disgust evident in his voice. “Get ready.” When Sam turned around, Dean sticks his tongue out at him.

____________________

Sam got dropped off at the town's public library. He walks in through the clear glass doors and looks around as he walks towards the books. Only three, maybe four, people were here. Of course, Sam didn’t think people were just going to wake up early in the morning just to read.

He starts at the town’s history section. His hands reached for books called ‘The History of Southhollow,’ ‘what Lies in the Hollow Tree,’ and ‘The Diary of Edgar Smith,’ and so on. Gone through so many cases before, especially with small towns like this one, Sam knew how to go about research. Specifically topics of witchcraft, rituals, and even folklore that might’ve taken place at any point in time.

Sam looked around more and grabbed books he thought would help him solve this case then headed towards an empty table in the back corner of the library. He sets the books he chose down and gets as comfortable as he could get and starts reading ‘The History of Southhollow.’ 

The History of Southhollow 

Southhollow, founded in 1659, was one of the many permanent settlements in what would become part of the United States.

On September 1st, 1659 the governor, Edgar Smith, declared the land he and his men discovered to be called Southhollow. The site for the new town was quickly picked for many reasons.

It only took Sam a couple of hours to the short book as it did not contain information that would have been relevant to the case. He sets it aside and starts on the next book.

‘The Diary of Edgar Smith,’ Sam thought. ‘ this might give me something.’ 

February 3rd, 1659

It was evening when my men and I arrived at this empty plot of land surrounded by trees. I chose that we are to camp here for the night and return to search for new land on the morrow. The journey to America was rough as storms clouded the seas and the tides were difficult to pass. My men and I come from Europe. We are in search of land in America to make a new home. 

 Sam read the entry, and just like the other book, he didn’t see anything of importance. He started to feel hopeless. The first book didn't give him the information he needed. So Sam had decided to skim the entries not to waste any more time as he did on the first book. 

 _________________

        Dean, on the other hand, was on his way to talk to the parents of the first missing child and to find out any more information Sam might have missed. He steps out of the impala, fixing his suit as his eyes roam over Johnson's large, luxurish house. He shuts the vehicle door and makes his way to talk to the porch. Dean rang the doorbell hearing Mozart play as a jingle. The man closes his eyes and sighs muttering, “freakin’ rich people.”

Movement from inside the house could be heard causing Dean to quickly fix his stance, opening his eyes as seriousness took over his face. It took a moment before a woman’s voice was heard through the door. “Yes? Who is it?”

“My name is Agent Lee, ma’am. I’m with the FBI,” he grabs his fake badge from his black suit pocket and flashes it to the lady through the peephole. The door sounds an unlock and opens to show a brown haired woman. He puts the badge back as she moves to let him in the house. His legs carry him through the threshold as his eyes look over the expensive objects.

“I’m Elizabeth. Can I get you anything to drink?” She asks, closing the door and watches him turn around at her voice.

“Coffee, please.” Dean smiles.

She nods her head, gesturing her hand towards the living room. “Have a seat. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Dean watches her leave before taking a seat in a chair that sat on the right side of the room. A coffee table, with a photo frame and flowers in the middle, sat before him and a couch on the other side. His eyes notice a photo of a man and woman whose arm is hooked through his and a young boy. Dean carefully picks it up and examines it. It reminded him of when his parents were alive and he didn’t know monsters existed.

“That’s my husband, William, and our son, Noah.” She walks into the room holding a tray with two cups of coffee on saucers and a bowl of sugar cubes. She bends down, setting the tray on the table. “I’m sorry. I don’t have milk or cream. How many sugar cubes would you like?”

Dean sets the frame back down. “Uh, none,” he spoke and he watched her shaky hands hand the cup and saucer to him, taking a seat on the couch. “What can I help you with, Agent?”

“I’m here about your son's disappearance.”

Elizabeth nods, a sad sigh leaving her mouth. “You must be partners with the other man that was here yesterday. He disappeared a month ago. My husband left for work early leaving me to take Noah to school. And when I went to pick him up at three p.m., he never came running to my car like he did everyday after school. I waited for thirty minutes thinking he was doing a test or something. After those minutes had passed, I walked into the building and walked to his classroom. He wasn’t in there and none of the staff saw him leave.”

Dean nods for her to continue.

She took a deep breath. “I went straight to the police station. They said I cannot file a missing persons report for twenty-four to seventy-hours. So I left calling my husband. He wasn’t worried. He thought Noah probably went to a friends house. I called all his friends' parents but none of them saw or had him. So all I could do was wait. The next day, a new police officer, Oliver Davis, was doing his rounds outside of town the next day. He noticed something bright red in the trees. He drove down the path into the forest and stopped a long way in. He went to check it out. He took a good look at it and saw my son's name on the tag.” She let out a loud sob. “The sheriff gathered a search party a day later and it lasted late into the night. No one found anything until the third day of searching. A group found an abandoned house and told the sheriff through the walkie talkie. He searched the house and found my son's dead body.”

“Was there any scratches or bite marks of any kind?” Dean asks.

“There were scratches over his chest and stomach and back. I, uh, I have photos.”

He watches her get up and walk over to the entryway dresser by the front door. She pulls the top drawer open, grabbing a manila-yellow colored envelope. Elizabeth makes her way back to her seat handing Dean the proof. "The coroner said it was an animal attack." 

He opens it pulling out the crime scene photos. The woman looks away not wanting to see them and puts a hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying out.

The picture shows Noah’s full body lying on his back. His red shirt torn with a piece missing. Deep scratches lined from his chest to his belly. Pants littered with holes and dirt and no shoes with one dirty sock. He moved onto the second photo. It showed a close up of the cuts. Flesh could be seen and pieces of skin ripped in multiple places as blood oozed out. On the last photo was a trail of blood leading to the body on the abandoned house floor.

Dean looked up at the mother and felt instantly bad for her. He couldn’t imagine what it was like losing a child. “Can I borrow these?”

“Take them. My husband wanted copies but I don’t. I want to never see those again. Is that all?”

_________________________________________

DEAN X READER TAGS:

akshi8278

[random-mha-thoughts]

Murphy’s Law (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy/crack

Summary: Bakugou just wants a peaceful date with you and promises to tone down his aggression, but things don’t always go his way.

Word count: 2,206

Inspo: This tik tok

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

a/n: I absolutely love writing these comedy/crack style plots, they’re so fun!  They just fit so well with Bakugou’s character, what can I say?

Starting next post, I’ll finally be posting some spicy content ;)  Not nsfw exactly, but I’d give it a PG-13 rating if I had to.

Anyway, its 3 am and I’m about to pass out.  Enjoy~!

"You smell like...cherries?"  Bakugou takes a deeper whiff of the crook of my neck.  "No, wait... Vanilla?"

I bite my lip, trying not to chuckle too hard and disturb his adorable sleuthing.

"I got it," he moves up to stare me right in the eyes for my answer.  "Coconut."  When I nod, he smirks victoriously.  "I knew it."  He peppers my face and neck in soft kisses, his grip on my waist tightening.  "Admit it, your boyfriend is amazing."

I tilt my head and scrunch my eyes.  "You're...okay."

His grip turns into erratic twitches as he tickles me.  "Just okay, huh?"

My breath is stolen by laughter.  "Okay!  You're amazing!"  I curse his knowledge of my ticklish spots.

Bakugou ceases his mischievous torture and returns to our original cuddling position: his one arm on top of my waist and the other enveloping my shoulders as I rest on his chest.  We bask in the silence of each other's warmth and breathing, the faint sound of his heartbeat thudding in my ear.

His warm fingers draw patterns against exposed skin near the hem of my shirt.  "We haven't been out on a proper date for a while, we should go this weekend," he proposes out of the blue.

I mull over the idea.  We've both been busy with training, and we both mutually agree that we prefer spending more intimate time with each other like this than being out on a formal date.  "What brought this up?" I ask, genuinely curious.

"It's just a random thing, no big deal," he snorts, trying to pass it off casually, but I know him well enough to know better.

"You saw Todoroki taking Midoriya out, didn't you?"

I hear the clinking of his teeth as he clenches his jaw, taking that as a positive response.

I sigh, loosing draping my arm onto his chest.  "Katsuki-"

"I just wanna make you feel special, okay?" he blurts out, terse but affectionate in his own way.  "I don't want you to think I don't care about you or that you're missing out on things other couples do.  I'm your man, you deserve more."

My fingers softly trail up his arm.  In other words, he feels like he's not doing enough in our relationship.  I peck his lips.  "Okay, let's do it.  But let's not go somewhere too fancy.  I don't feel like dressing up and all that.  Besides, you're too...excited for those quiet places."

His eyebrows furrow.  "Whaddaya mean by that?"

I want to chuckle at his defiance.  "You get very easily riled up.  Sometimes, you just need to tone it down a notch."

Though he pouts, he mutters, "I'll be on my best behavior, promise."

.

The weekend finally rolls around.  The Sun shines brightly, there isn't a cloud in the sky, the temperature is brisk, nothing could possibly go wrong.

Bakugou agreed to meet at noon so we could go out for lunch at this cute outdoor restaurant downtown.  I dress in a somewhat-fancy-somewhat-casual grey sweater, black leather pants, and Chelsea boots.  While I'm deciding on what accessories to style with my outfit, there's a  knock at my door.  I glance at the clock, only then realizing it's 12:30, and rush to the door.

Bakugou stands in the doorway, looking like an absolute snack.  For some reason, he's dressed in a crisp white button down, fitted black slacks down above his ankles held up by black suspenders, and brown dress shoes.  Slack jawed, I barely have a second to comment on how amazing he looks before he storms into my room and I catch a whiff of his cologne, wanting to shower him with compliments.

"Katsuki-"

"I woke up late, I'm sorry," he growls, throwing a black strip of fabric around his neck and making a beeline for my full length mirror.  He's trying to knot a tie around his neck, I realize.  "My alarm didn't go off for some stupid reason, and I wanted to wake up early to get you flowers before coming here.  This date's already ruined and I'm not even ready- AND THIS STUPID TIE JUST WON'T TIE PROPERLY!"  Clearly, he's already worked up and his tie won't cooperate with him.

At first, it's cute watching him struggle, but I realize he's genuinely bothered by this entire situation.  I wrap my arms around his torso from behind.  "Babe, it's fine.  We're not in a hurry, just take your time." I assure him softly.  "I was just finishing up myself."

At the sound of my voice, my boyfriend releases his tension in a sigh.  "You're right.  I promised I'll be calmer today."  He finally finishes tying his tie and smooths it over.

I smile and kiss his cheek to comfort him.  "You look so handsome."

A light blush colors Bakugou's cheeks as he runs his hands through his hair.  "I did it for you, dummy," he admits in the softest voice.

We stare at each other in the mirror fondly for a moment, and I ruffle his hair.  "Let's go, whenever you're ready."

As we're getting ready to leave the dorms, Kaminari and Mineta are playing some sort of weird game in the hallway with Mineta's purple spheres where Kaminari tries to hit them with his lightning.

One of them flies past Bakugou's head, just missing it, and he almost goes off.  "I swear if one of those things hits me in the face, you idiots are-!"  Cutting himself off at the end, he takes a deep breath.  "I'm calm, I'm calm.  Let's just get out of here."

It's cute watching him struggle to stay calm for my sake.

And it doesn't get any easier.  Somewhere during the walk over to the restaurant, the sprinkler system turns on in someone's lawn and managed to almost spritz Bakugou's crisp outfit.  He says nothing and holds in his complaints, like a true trooper.  The next thing to go wrong is the train getting delayed.  Such a small nuisance is too much for the boy, as evidenced by the wild tapping of his foot on the floor to the point where some of the other passengers stare at him.

"If I could use my quirk, I would've just blasted us out of here to the restaurant," he mutters in my ear.

I squeeze his hand in mine.  "You're doing a great job, babe."

The smile that appears on his face is absolute bliss.

After the train finally moves and we reach our stop, we make our way through the city hand in hand, talking only to each other.

"You've out-dressed me, Katsuki.  Where did these clothes even come from?"

"My mom always told me a formal outfit is a staple," the boy shrugs in response.  "I just didn't want to wear the jacket because it's still daytime."

In the back of my head, I realize that Bakugou seems to have an unconscious eye for dressing presentable, he just chooses to wear joggers and a T-shirt all the time.

"I just figured we were going to a nice place and I wanted to look good, you know?" he continues.  "Even though everything's kinda gone to hell so far today."

My heart melts for how hard he's trying, and I decide to hug his arm for comfort.  "You're doing amazing.  I'm having fun just being with you so far."

In return, he kisses my forehead.  "The date's not over yet, we still need to eat."  He takes out his phone.  "I just need to make sure we're going-"

We collide into someone who's not watching where they're going, and, unfortunately, Bakugou's phone gets knocked out of his hand.  Almost in slow motion, we watch as the poor device crashes against the concrete face down.  I can feel his grip on my hand tighten as he growls and picks up the phone, hoping for the best, only to realize there are now spidery cracks across the surface.

I hold my breath for the inevitable outburst, which doesn't come.  A vein pops in Bakugou's neck and a muscle jumps in his jaw, but no sound escapes his lips except an extended, harsh exhale.  "Can I check it on your phone, babe?" he asks through clenched teeth, and I offer to be navigator myself out of pity.

When we finally get to the restaurant, we sit down and have our meal in peace.  The blond seems to relax as food slowly fills his belly and we carry light conversation with each other.

"You finished all the rolls already?!" I guffaw, covering my face to keep myself from being too loud, "Were you that hungry?"

"I told you I got up late!" he growls, ripping off a piece from the last roll, "I haven't eaten yet all day."

I take his hand from across the table.  "And you deserve it, with the day you've had so far."

Smooth as a criminal, he kisses my fingers gently, "At least you're here.  But you shouldn't give me your hand so easily, I might bite you because of how hungry I am."  He jokingly starts play biting my hand, making me laugh again.  And just for a moment, our eyes catch each other's, sharing our affections wordlessly.

Until something - or someone - crashes into our table.

Both of us get to our feet instinctively and inspect the damage.  The person who had crashed our table is a male waiter we recognized moving around since we've been here.

"That man is a villain!  He's trying to rob the place!" one of the staff announces from across the room.

The man slowly tries standing on his feet, catching onto the closest thing to help himself.  Which happened to be Bakugou's pant leg.  Looking up, the sorry villain realizes he's just sealed his fate.

Bakugou's face is crimson with impatient rage, bottled up from the entire day and ready to explode onto the nearest victim.

"What. The actual. Fuck?" he murmurs from deep in his throat down at the villain, who's eyes are widening as he registers he might actually be facing a devil.  The boy's breathing gets ragged.  "You have exactly," he pulls and undoes the knot around his neck in one swift movement, not breaking his malicious glare on the villain, "Two seconds," he throws the tie aside and slides his suspenders off his shoulders, "Before I blast you into oblivion," the top buttons of his shirt are undone.

"I-I'm so sorry I interrupted your date," the villain's eyes widen as he slides backwards into the broken table.  "Y-You two must've been having a good time-"

"Damn RIGHT we were!" Bakugou bellows, sleeved already folded and he's pushing them up past his elbows away from his hands.  "Now you're gonna DIE!"

As hot as it was watching my angry boyfriend slightly undress, I don't want him getting in trouble doing something illegal.  I grasp his taut elbow, avoiding his forearm. "Katsuki, just leave this for the pros to deal with, don't get yourself in trouble."

He slowly calms his breathing, but still eyes the man with a murderous glint as we back away from the situation.

.

We silently eat our sandwiches on a park bench.  Bakugou's gnawing and mashing his food to get his anger out, his tie hanging out of his pocket since he couldn't be bothered to re-tie it around his neck, or readjust his outfit.

I quietly admire his rugged appearance and let out a small chuckle.

He shoots me a look.  "What're you laughing at?"

"I'm just thinking how much better you look when you're all undone like this," I remark, finishing the last of my own sandwich, "You looked too uptight before, this is way more casual."

My comment is met with a smirk and a huff as he uses one arm to pull me so close to him, I might as well be on his lap.  "Is that your way of saying I look hot all angry like this?"

"Maybe."  With that, I steal the last bite from his sandwich.

Bakugou sets the wrapper aside and hugs my waist with both hands, setting me properly in front of him so I can look him straight on.  "I'm sorry I lost my cool like that.  I promised I'd stay calm for you today, but nothing even went right all day and then that mess happened."

His ashamed expression makes me plant a quick kiss on his lips, allowing a light blush to appear in its place.  "You're amazing, Katsuki.  You've had such crappy luck all day and you managed to hold in your anger for most of it.  But, while I appreciate the effort, you really didn't have to."  I wrap my arms around his neck affectionately.  "I love you and all your hotheaded screaming, you dope, no fancy dates or rules needed.  Don't feel like you need to do more for me when I just need you."

A heart-melting smile spreads across Bakugou's face as he rests our foreheads together.  "I don't deserve you, babe, you're the best I could ever ask for."  Our lips join together in a sweet kiss for a moment.

I break it with a chuckle.  "Honestly though, I really would've liked to see you smash that guy's face in."

"Me too!"

[catlordewrites]

The Waif ~ Chapter One

As an alien science experiment, she remembers nothing. Knows no one. With nowhere else to turn, Claudia must rely on the Doctor and his companions for help. She's mutating. The Doctor knows more than he's telling. But why does the Time Lord seem to hate her so much? Rated M.

Chapter Warnings: Death, amnesia, violence.

Masterlist - Fanfiction.net - Ao3

Prologue - This Chapter - Next Chapter

Chapter One: Somebody

Anyone walking the streets of Cardiff at approximately eight in the morning would’ve thought that the young woman waking the wrong way down the sidewalk was mentally challenged. 

And there were people walking the streets, so many of them were thinking this.

Maybe she was a drug addict that had decided to take a walk in the sun. Maybe she had climbed out of her lover’s window when his wife came home early and she only made it out with a nightgown. Maybe she had just escaped from a mental ward.

Perhaps she had. Who knew? Certainly not her. 

She’d left Mr. Stray the moment she realized he was dead. Somewhere in her jumbled thoughts, she recognized that she probably shouldn’t have left his body for some stranger to find, but the mix of relative safety and indifference she’d felt the night before had vanished with the rising sun. She’d panicked, for numerous reasons, and found herself trying to get as far away from the homeless man’s corpse as she could.

Her mind was a confusing murky haze of information and lack thereof. None of her thoughts made sense to her, even though she presumed that they were relatively normal ones to have. 

Thoughts like Where am I? seemed to mock her from within her own mind, but from behind a wall of emptiness, like a question on a test that she knew she ought to know the answer to. She’d studied it, but now it was gone. Stupid, forgetful girl. Who am I? Don’t worry, don’t worry. Relax and it’ll come back to you. Where am I supposed to be? What’s wrong with me? Just ask for help if you get lost, but they’ll laugh at you if they know you’ve forgotten. 

She felt like crying. She was lost in a place she felt like she probably shouldn’t be. She mentally begged for someone to fix it. For someone to just know and help her.

Claudia studied the faces of the people she passed, hoping to see a flicker of recognition in one of them, hoping that someone may recognize her and say, ‘Oh, there you are! Where have you been?’ 

She felt an awful lot like an item in the lost and found. Existing in a strange sort of purgatory until someone thought to come by and claim her. Whether that person be the original owner or someone new, it didn’t matter, she didn’t care. A stray animal wandering the streets, trying to find her way back to her old home or into a new one. 

Her bare feet began to sting and bleed, but she carried on, hoping to eventually find the place she was supposed to be.

~0~0~0~ . . ~0~0~0~

It didn’t take Claudia long to get tired. She was hungry, sad, and her feet were scraped and bleeding. She came across a nice park, one with benches and children playing on colorful plastic playground equipment, and decided to sit and rest.

A little girl from the playground came waddling up to her. She couldn’t have been more than eight, with bright red pigtails and heavily freckled face. She smiled at Claudia shyly, stopping a few feet in front of her and holding out a small white flower.

Claudia smiled at the gesture. The little girl beamed back, displaying a few gaps in her smile. 

“I’m Sara,” the little girl announced confidently, coming the rest of the way over and clambering up on the bench beside Claudia.

“I’m Claudia,” Claudia said softly, smiling down at the little flower as she twirled it between her fingers.

“Why are you so sad?” Sara was looking up at her thoughtfully, her little nose scrunched up as she tried to work out why the grownup beside her could be anything but happy.

Claudia shrugged, keeping her eyes on the flower. “I think… I think I’m lost.”

“That’s no good,” Sara concluded. “Where do you have to go? Maybe I can help.”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember anything.”

Surprisingly, Sara didn’t question it. “Like amn… amnei..”

“Amnesia,” Claudia agreed in her quiet voice, slightly surprised at how easily the word had come to her.

“Yeah. How’d that happen?”

“I don’t know. I just woke up. I don’t even know where I am.”

“You’re in Cardiff,” Sara answered firmly, without the slightest hint of criticism. “That’s in Wales. Which is part of the UK. My teacher made us learn all about it.” Her brow crinkled moodily. “And we even had to point to it on a map. I got that part right, but I messed up on Germany.”

“You’ll get it right next time.” For the first time since she’d woken up, she smiled. It was small and nervous, but a smile nonetheless. 

“Hope so. We have to do it again next week.” 

“Sara!”

Sara and Claudia looked up to see a tall woman staring at them with her hands on her hips. Her glare was intended for Claudia as much as it was for her daughter, full of wary disapproval and a borderline threat that said do anything to hurt my baby, and I’ll kill you. 

Claudia couldn’t blame her, suddenly feeling extremely self conscious about her dirty white dress and bare feet and imagining how it must look to Sara’s mother. For all the mother knew, Claudia was a homeless crackhead and/or lunatic. For all Claudia knew, she was right.

“Is that your mom?” Claudia asked, wilting slightly under the woman’s stern gaze.

Sara winced. “Yeah. I’m not supposed to talk to strangers.”

“That’s good advice.” Claudia picked at her finger nails nervously. “You should probably go back to her.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sara wiggled back to her feet, but instead of leaving, she spun back around to face Claudia. “In class, when I can’t remember what an answer is, I think of all the things I can remember. Sometimes the rest will come back. You should try it, maybe you’ll remember too.”

“I’ll try.” Claudia managed another small smile and Sara, satisfied that she’d managed to cheer the sad woman up a little, bounded back over to her mother.

Claudia watched as the mother scolded her, impressed at how nonchalant the child was in the face of her mother’s wrath. 

She twirled the small flower in her fingers, watching the delicate petals spin as she tried to pull her thoughts together enough to work out what she could remember. She frantically scoured at the deepest recesses of her mind, looking for anything. A name. A place. A face. 

There was nothing.

When an angry black SUV tore around the corner at the other side of the park, Claudia realized that there was something that she knew: angry black SUVs bearing several strange people with strange science equipment and guns were probably bad. 

“You!” The man who had been in the driver’s seat shouted as he leapt out of the car. He was dressed in mostly blue, with suspenders and a long, thick coat that flapped around his legs. “Stay where you are!”

Claudia realized, with increasing anxiety, that he was referring to her. She stood shakily, toying with the hem of her dress, mud squishing unpleasantly between her toes. An empty brown holster jangled around the man's waist, the gun shining in his hand. Claudia swallowed nervously in spite of her cotton-dry mouth.

“An ultrasonic resonance scoop and thirteen deaths, and you thought that no one would notice?” The man loomed over her threateningly. “You got clumsy with the last one, though. Just left on the side of the street. What, did you get bored?”

Claudia’s mouth opened and closed as she floundered for a response, but her throat was too tight for any sound to escape. She couldn’t think of anything to say, anyway. 

“Hold on, Jack. She’s not like the others,” one of the other people from the car interjected, a woman with dark hair, freckles, and wide spaced teeth. Her large grey eyes were soft with curiosity and pity. 

The man, Jack, lacked both of those qualities. His eyes were cold. “You said that about the last one.”

“Oh, be fair,” the woman scoffed, “he looked twelve.”

“Yeah, and he ripped out that police officer’s throat,” another man - a bit frog-faced, in Claudia’s opinion - added. “With his teeth.”

Whatever blood was left in Claudia’s face drained at the thought. Clearly, there was some sort of misunderstanding. She hadn’t killed anyone. Though, a knot twisted in her gut when she realized that she probably wouldn’t be able to remember if she had or not.

“And that’s not counting what the others did before they slipped off.” Jack bared his teeth into something resembling a grin. “We got this one though, don’t we?” 

“I… I…” Claudia managed to croak.

“Ooh, she speaks!” Jack crooned, he lifted the gun so it was pointed squarely at her chest. “Let’s go, sweetheart. We’ve got a nice, cozy cell for you to slip into. I’ll buy you a drink while we have a chat.”

Claudia tried to move, but her legs wouldn’t obey. Her heart was beating frantically in her throat, and she could hardly hear the gawking park spectators through the sound of blood rushing in her ears. But she did catch a glimpse of Sara clinging to her mother’s legs.

“I said let’s go!” Jack snapped, roughly shoving her shoulder so she staggered in the direction of the foreboding SUV. The tiny flower from Sara slipped from her grasp and lay forgotten in the mud.

Claudia managed a few steps in the right direction, but stumbled as the air around her began to hum. Black ate at the corners of her vision and her limbs tingled like they had all decided to fall asleep at once. 

The man with the frog face pressed a finger to his ear. His eyes widened. “Tosh says there’s another energy spike. She’s being teleported…”

Before Claudia could contemplate what he meant, she was enveloped by a bright gold light.

“No— No, wait!” Jack’s voice rang in her ears, but he sounded far away.

The man’s shouts of protest faded away, replaced by a deafening ringing as the world faded into dizzying blackness.

~0~0~0~ . . ~0~0~0~

She was on the floor somewhere that she wasn’t before. Claudia lay still for a moment, dazed, trying to work out what had happened through the ringing in her ears.

“Is she stable?” A masculine voice echoed from somewhere nearby.

“Yeah. It’s just the transmat, it screws with your head a bit. She’ll be fine in a moment.”

A loud knock echoed around her. She floundered, trying to figure out which way was up. Another few knocks rattled her, and she managed to sit up. 

Claudia looked around frantically for the frightening man - Jack, and his two companions - but they were gone, as was the park. The young woman desperately tried to wrap her head around the change in scenery - from a park to what she imagined to be some sort of laboratory. 

She couldn’t recall anything that would help explain the phenomenon from the bank of experiences her short life had to offer, so she decided to assume that this was a normal occurrence.

A man in a pale blue coat was peering down at her through some sort of glass barrier. He looked human, but his eyes were far too yellow, rimmed by squarish black glasses. The man raised his hand to tap on the glass again, displaying unnaturally long fingers. Claudia had the odd sensation of being a fish, or perhaps a hamster, looking out at the student who was annoying the class pet.

“Hello!” The man greeted her cheerfully, giving a little wave. 

She stared out at him blankly, having no idea of how she was supposed to respond. She was frightened, but no more of the man before her than of anything else she’d encountered over the past twelve hours. At least he wasn’t as scary as Jack. The situation felt far too dehumanizing for her to be polite or trusting. But rude probably wasn’t the way to go, either.

She was in a sort of glass cylinder that served as an enclosure. The cylinder continued high above her head to the ceiling, topped with a black vent. The floor was made of silver grating that bit painfully into her feet.

Outside the cylinder was an altogether different environment. It was white and sterile. Metal counters lined the walls, covered with various forms of intricate machinery; their purpose Claudia could only guess at. 

On the opposite side of the room was an observation window. Although tinted, Claudia could make out a man on the other side of the glass. He was an older man, tall with a stern face. He was dressed in a coat like the other scientist, staring out at them with his arms crossed and a clipboard in hand.

At the sight of him, something prickled at the back of Claudia’s mind. It might have been recognition, but it was too faint to be sure. 

To her left, Claudia noticed three other cylindrical tanks like her own, each with its own inhabitant. From her viewpoint, she could just make out a boy in his early teens, a young woman with mossy brown hair, and a muscular man that appeared to be in his late thirties.

The scientist with glasses turned away from Claudia, picking up a clipboard as he went and ruffling though it thoughtfully. He stopped in front of the boy, who was curled up in a ball at the floor of his cell. Although his face was half hidden and his hands fisted in his hair, the blood around his mouth was clearly visible. 

“Yeah, and he ripped out that police officer’s throat,” the frog faced man in the park had said. “With his teeth.”

Claudia shuddered, imagining it. He looked so small and helpless now, but she didn’t doubt what the man in the park had said.

“223-A is responding negatively,” the man on the other side of the window mused, his voice echoing from the ceiling through speakers. “Prepare to terminate.”

The other glanced up from fiddling with an instrument that resembled a microscope. “Aww, come on, Solane, he’s the first to actually accept the treatments. Surely that counts for something.”

Solane simply wrote something down on the clipboard, not bothering to look up. “Unchecked aggression and mental degradation is not what we are trying to achieve. Don’t get sentimental on me. It’s unbecoming. Now, prepare to terminate.”

The younger scientist sighed and made his way over to a computer console. He typed a few lines and turned a nozzle to the right of the computer. “Proceeding.”

A toxic yellow fog began seeping into the boy’s cell from the ceiling vent, filling the cylinder in a matter of seconds. 

Claudia could only watch with mounting horror as the boy twitched and began coughing. Within moments, he was spasming. His gangly body seizing and contorting painfully, head snapping and eyes rolling for what seemed like ages before finally, mercifully, he stilled.

“Lifesigns terminated,” The younger scientist confirmed, still sounding a bit rueful. 

A frightened sob escaped unbidden from Claudia’s lips. She shrank against the glass, trying to put as much space between her and the horrible people as she could. The scientists ignored her.

“Good,” Sloane acknowledged.

Much to her dismay, the young scientist ambled back over to Claudia’s tank. He opened a small rectangular window that Claudia hadn’t noticed and looked at her expectantly. “Put your arm through the hole, please.”

Claudia did not want to put her arm through the gap. She didn’t want to be anywhere near this cold, cruel man. Her stomach was still heaving at witnessing the boy’s death and had there been anything in it, she would have vomited.

“Come on,” the man prompted cheerfully. “You won’t get fed until you cooperate. Today’s combination twenty four. You don’t want to miss that, do you? You must be hungry.”

The scientist’s indifferently positive tone made her feel even more sick to the stomach. But he was right, she was starving. Not to mention that she was willing to bet that he would withhold food altogether until she died, if he didn’t give up and gas her first.

Slowly, hesitantly, Claudia slipped her arm through the small window.

“Good girl,” He praised, taking her by the wrist. In one swift movement, he pressed a tube against her arm just a few inches below her elbow. It pinched sharply, causing her to flinch. 

The scientist put away the tube and took up a syringe filled with something green. He injected it into her bicep and released her.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it? I promised a meal, now, didn’t I?”

~0~0~0~ . . ~0~0~0~

Days ticked by dully, or at least Claudia thought they were days. It could’ve been weeks, or months. The harsh artificial lights never changed intensity to indicate the difference between night and day. Meals were regular, and there were stretches of time where Dinstral, the young lab assistant, wasn’t in the room, but these regularities had no relation to anything else, and therefore weren’t enough to use as a method of telling time. But by her estimates, Claudia had only been wherever she was for a handful of days. 

She was given bland bowls of what appeared to be porridge through the small window of her tank. Every so often Dinstral would come by to inject more of the green liquid. Then he would do something called ‘Optimising’. Claudia had no real idea of what that meant, but knew that the assistant would type something in the computer, which then caused her tank to vibrate. 

She couldn’t really feel any difference after Optimising, but they seemed to think that the ten minute session after every injection was necessary, and Claudia wasn’t in a position to protest. 

After Optimization, Dinstral would take a blood sample and would go off to run tests on it, leaving Claudia alone in her glass prison.

She tried on multiple occasions to initiate conversation. She tried to ask Dinstral what was going on; what he was doing; what they wanted with her; where she came from; but he would only tsk and say that good girls didn’t ask so many questions. Claudia was always offended by the statement, but, once again, wasn’t in any position to object.

Her fellow prisoners weren’t any help, either. The tank nearest to her was now empty. The woman one tank over didn’t seem able to speak at all, simply grunting disinterestedly in response to any statement made in her direction.

The man furthest away seemed like he was the most capable of intelligent communication. His eyes weren’t empty like the woman’s were. They were sharp, calculating. Unfortunately, he ignored Claudia entirely, casting the barest glance in her direction at every futile attempt at attracting his attention. He spent his days staring silently out into the lab, undergoing the same procedures that Claudia was subjected to without the slightest complaint. 

Then there was Dr. Sloane. Whenever Dinstral was in the room to administer injections or run tests, he was there, watching through the glass. He would make notes and give instructions, but stayed away. 

Claudia wondered why. What was he afraid of? Or was the hands-on part of the test simply beneath him? 

The longer she was in there, the more distraught Claudia became. Loneliness was setting in, eating away at her heart in a manner similar to how the cold from the metal grating under her feet seeped into her bones. She would have done almost anything for a hug. Her memory hadn’t returned as she hoped it would. There was no one. Nothing. 

Was this where she belonged? A mindless science experiment for strange people to poke and prod at? 

She told herself firmly that it couldn’t be. She had to come from somewhere, didn’t she? Someone had to have given birth to her. She surely had parents, right?

She focused on that, spending her spare hours imaging them in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves.

She thought maybe her mother had brown hair, as she did. She might have been kind with a musical laugh and smile lines at the corner of her eyes.

Her father might have been tall. He might have been witty and energetic. He might have had a brilliant smile and perfect white teeth. 

They might have lived in the countryside somewhere. With tall trees surrounding the house and a big front yard. Bright yellow flowers might have grown there, making the air in the spring smell warm and sweet. They might have read her bedtime stories and played outside with a dog. 

They might have been real, and they might have loved her.

That’s what Claudia told herself, anyway. She knew perfectly well that the probability of any of it being true was incredibly low; but to a person with no memory, fiction is every bit as tangible as reality. 

~0~0~0~ . . ~0~0~0~

Then finally, something happened.

Claudia woke up to the sound of people shouting. She sprang to her feet, shaking the groggy remnants of sleep away as she surveyed the lab, eagerly looking for the source. Her fellow lab rats did the same, getting to their feet and staring around with wide eyes, looking more alive than Claudia had ever seen them. 

The lab door was still closed, so they couldn’t see what was happening, but something had clearly gotten their captors agitated. Claudia pressed her palms to the glass, ignoring the cold that seeped into them from the lifeless material. 

The door finally slid open as Dinstral and two other assistants came bustling in. They moved quickly, shouting things at each other in a language that Claudia couldn’t understand. They tapped at the computers, hustling and gathering equipment. 

The cylindrical tanks shuddered in response to whatever commands had been inputted. Claudia watched in horrified amazement as the man’s tank began to sink into the floor. It lowered until the entire thing vanished through the metal-rimmed hole that had evidently been beneath it. 

An escape hatch, Claudia wondered. Where does it go?

Both Claudia’s and the woman’s tanks shuddered and began to do the same. Their task completed, Dinstral and his lackeys hurried back out of the room and out of sight. 

As her tank was lowered through the floor, Claudia tried to work out what was happening. The best she could figure, they were evacuating.

To get away from what?

Claudia was thrown to the floor, scraping her knees as her tank jarred to a halt, halfway in and out of the floor. The tank reversed, raising itself back out into its original placement before attempting to complete the cycle once more. She stayed on the floor this time, but was still jolted unpleasantly as the machine hit whatever snag it had encountered the first time. 

It tried twice more, but ultimately resigned itself to remaining in its original position while the computer at the other side of the room beeped in distress, flashing red warning lights at scientists that weren’t there to respond to them. 

By this point, the other experiments were long gone, having been removed by their fully functioning escape hatches. 

Claudia got back to her feet and knocked on the glass urgently, having no desire to be caught up in whatever had caused the scientists to leave so quickly. Not that she wanted to stay with Dr. Sloane and his cronies, but that was better than being left to die in her own personal isolation tank. 

“Hello?” She called, voice strained from lack of proper use. “Is anyone there? My thing… my thing got stuck!”

There was no reply. She dared calling out a few more times, but received the same result. Everyone was gone.

She wrapped her arms around herself in a poor imitation of a hug as a new kind of despair seeped into her heart. As dehumanizing and horrible as her stay here had been, it was all she knew. Change is hard, for the better and for the worse. It didn’t help that she had no idea if her situation was either. 

Please don’t leave me, Claudia begged, not to Dinstral or Dr. Sloane, but to anyone; to her theoretical family and friends; to anyone at all that might’ve laid claim to her. Please don’t leave me alone.

Minutes felt like hours, and even though she had been abandoned there for hardly any time at all, she felt like she’d been alone for years. So when the sound of footsteps echoed from through the open door, she barely recognized the hope that flared within her.

A man came racing around the corner, twisting wires together with more draped around his neck. He was tall and skinny with a narrow face. He wore a brown pinstripe suit and tie with light colored shoes and hair that stuck up every which way - like he’d been running his fingers through it in agitation. 

The man spotted her and stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide with shock. 

He stared at her for a moment, and Claudia watched as a wide variety of expressions crossed his face. Surprise. Confusion. Then winded, like he’d been punched in the gut. Then anger. 

“You!” He sputtered, voice going a bit squeaky. “What are you—?”

“Doctor?” A young blonde woman in a pink sweatshirt and jeans came charging in after him. She skidded to a stop and examined the room owlishly.

“How did…? Where have…?” The man, whom Claudia presumed was called ‘Doctor’, wavered his way over to the glass, coming closer in a few spastic spurts, much like a worked-up dog would to something that it wasn’t sure was friendly or not. His voice became strained and accusing, stress written on every line of his face. “Why did…?”

“Do you know her?” The blonde asked, coming around to peer at Claudia from around the Doctor’s shoulder with doe-like eyes. 

“Know her… I…” The Doctor broke off, hurt and anger melting into confusion and curiosity as his eyes roved over her. “But… What?”

“What?” Claudia echoed with wide eyes, unnerved by the strange man but who had yet to complete a full sentence.

The Doctor pressed the button to the lock and the glass slid away, removing the barrier between them. He stepped into the cell and came uncomfortably close, peering into her confused eyes with his narrowed ones.

“Doctor?” The blonde asked again, looking uneasy as well. 

His eyes darted around Claudia’s face, absorbing every detail. Then he snatched up her hand. He ran his fingers over her palm, pushing and prodding at the space where her fingers met the rest of her hand. 

“Show me your teeth,” he ordered, peeling back his lips as an example.

Claudia did as instructed, but was alarmed when he quickly ran his thumb along the edges of her teeth. Claudia recoiled, slightly disgusted, and looked to the equally perplexed blonde for help.

“Alright, Doctor, that’s enough of…” She came forward, waving her hand in the air. “...whatever this is. Who is she and what’s so important about her teeth?”

The Doctor blinked and took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets and staring at Claudia. She could practically see the cogs turning behind his deep brown eyes.

“A lot, actually. But…” He took another step towards Claudia. “Do you know who I am?”

Claudia rubbed her hands anxiously, not sure if she felt hopeful or afraid. He was certainly acting like he knew her. So maybe…

“No,” she said, getting a bit breathless with nerves. “Or maybe? I… I don’t know. I don’t know anyone.”

An explosion sounded in the distance, making the floor shudder. Claudia flinched, her eyes darting back and forth as she became even more agitated.

“Claud…” the Doctor said softly but with a hint of warning, like he was addressing a child. “How d’you mean you don’t know anyone?”

“I don’t know.” She cowered under the heat in his endless brown eyes. Then she blinked, her next-to-empty mind having caught the discrepancy. “You know my name?”

The Doctor seemed to realize his mistake. He grimaced slightly.

The floor shook once more. 

The blonde stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Claudia’s shoulders. “Doctor, leave it for now. Ship losing orbit, remember? We’ve got to go.”

“Ship?” Claudia echoed, more confused than ever.

“Spaceship,” the blonde stated, as if it were obvious. “We’re in space. Did you not know?”

“Space?” Claudia blinked, trying to process it. Not that she had a reason to find the concept of being in space ridiculous. Nevertheless, it seemed… wrong. “Oh.”

The Doctor watched Claudia for a moment longer, pain and concern warring behind his eyes, then sprang into action. He took up the wires he’d been messing with before. “Right. Got to patch this into the mainframe, bypass the…” He glanced back up at the two women. “Rose, take her back to the TARDIS. I’ll be along in a minute.”

“Right, this way.” Rose guided Claudia through the empty corridors, reassuring her every time the other girl flinched at a sudden sound.

“Where have all the people gone?” Claudia asked, peering around corners, expecting one of the scientists with the blue coats to come around them at any moment. 

Rose grinned mischievously. “The Doctor locked them all in the cargo hold. Don’t worry, they can’t get out.”

“Oh, okay.”

What else could she say?

[samwrights]

When You Wake

I literally cannot believe I wrote this. This was originally started to celebrate Yaku’s birthday (happy belated, my love), and to satisfy the requests for a Noya/Yaku threesome. Uh, don’t come for me. I couldn’t find inspiration in the normal hq world, so we’re making it weird. If y’all thought Between the Lines was long, this monstrosity is 13.2k words. 13,200 words, with a shameful, side amount that is smut. Literally, this is all just plot.

ear candy list is, surprisingly, on the smaller side. 

⤞ Revenga - System of A Down ⤞ Violent Pornography - System of A Down ⤞ Question! - System of A Down

pairing: Yaku/Reader/Noya

w a r n i n g s//TW: rape, murder, blood consumption, mentions of getting roofied, gore, blood from wounds, supernatural AU, revenge, temporarily mute reader, reader is converted to a vampire without consent, dubcon, death, spitroasting, dirty talk, senpai kink. PLEASE read through these warnings over and over until it is clear to you that this is not going to be an easy read. The reader literally goes on a revenge spree. ⤞ THIS. IS NOT. AN EASY. READ.

Now that you have been thoroughly warned, enjoy.

The way media and films and television glorified and romanticized college parties never could have prepared you for the fateful encounter in the alleyway on a muggy August evening. Primarily, college parties were depicted as fun—drunk nights on the weekends with your girlfriends, maybe hook up with that cute boy from chemistry that somehow ended up with you grinding on him on the dance floor. Though, in some genres, college parties end up with the protagonist roofied and raped and follows how the heroine spirals and recovers. But it only was supposed to happen in the movies, right?

It wasn’t supposed to end with you halfway to death, knocking on Hell’s door with blood pooling around your lifeless body in a barely lit, bleak alleyway. It wasn’t supposed to end with warbles of light fading in and out of your vision as cars passed you by, unknowing there was someone in the alleyway between a closed down butcher shop and a florist who had already gone home for the evening. You were only in your early twenties with only two more years of university to compete—it wasn’t supposed to end yet.

“We can’t just leave her here.”

“I think she’s too far gone, Yaku. We were too late.”

The voices swirling around you were unfamiliar, or at least from what you could gather. In your condition, it was impossible to discern them in the first place—were they even real voices? They sounded entirely too angelic from what you could process in your catatonic state. Maybe they weren’t; maybe death had taken you without your knowledge and the jury that decided whether or not your soul would ascend to heaven was passing their judgment on you.

“I can save her, Noya.” One of the voices, presumably this Yaku character snarls back with urgency. It is the last thing you hear before your limp body is pulled from the concrete. The movement, regardless of how delicate, causing more blood to rush from your open wounds and draining any ounce of consciousness from your mind. “You mind trying to collect the fallout?”

Nishinoya, though shaking his head, gives a subtle grin that cannot be seen in the dead of the night. He pulls out a large mason jar from the satchel he’s carrying and places the mouth of the jar where blood is pouring out profusely from a knife wound. The man collecting the blood knew entirely too well that once his mate sets his mind to something, there was no changing it. Not that it served as a recurring issue; if anything, Noya was grateful for Yaku’s stubbornness considering it was that exact trait of his that had given the former his second chance at life.

The two of them move swiftly, trying to make it back to their hidden mansion, that was quite a distance away, in secret. Yaku is doing all that he can to make sure not to disturb your body so as not to open any wounds further that could force you to bleed out and meet the grim reaper. He wasn’t a very pleasant creature, but that was a story for another day. At the same time, Nishinoya is almost fighting to keep the same steadfast pace while simultaneously holding the now half full mason jar just under the knife wound. The blood was beginning to thicken, turning from bright red to a deep crimson as it oxidizes.

The moment they enter their private garden, Nishinoya busts down the door to their home with expertise, alerting the other members of their clan. “Akaashi!” He screeches, his voice bellowing out in decibels that should not be used unless trying to project a voice in an amphitheater with no microphone. Thank omniscient beings for noise cancelling enchantments. “We need you!” An almost timid, young looking man enters the foyer where Noya is still collecting blood and Yaku is holding your limp body in his arms.

“So that’s where you two have been,” Akaashi deadpans, unfazed by the steadily decaying girl. “Bring her to my room. You can store what blood you’ve gathered there while I remove the knife and get her patched up.” Though calm, the three of them move at breakneck speeds, laying you face down on an operating table while Akaashi suits up. From what he can tell, this was going to be a real mess, considering how deep the knife is. The three of them knew what was to come and what their designated roles in this moment were—Nishinoya was to separate the blood he had gathered from your body and ration them into IV bags, while Yaku was provide suction in case of a bleed out.

“We can save her, can’t we?” Yaku asks quietly, tools in hand.

“That will depend on her will to fight,” Akaashi says quietly, half due to concentration, half because he genuinely does not have a valid answer. “You’ve done this time and time again, Yaku. If anyone is going to save her, it’s going to be you.”

Upon coming to, the only muscles in your body that can move are your eyelids. Peeling them back as much as you can muster, you notice the only light filtering into whatever room you are currently residing in is coming from the blaring moonlight through an open window. The shadows around you make up areas and shapes that you are entirely unfamiliar with, causing you to sit up impulsively to make sense of your surroundings. A mistake on your part, as you are immediately met with a searing pain in your ribs. With further inspection from your droopy eyes, you learn that your torso is entirely bare, save for the copious amounts of medical grade bandages and gauze around your breasts and stomach. Blood pooled somewhere along your left shoulder blade where the pain felt the worst.

“You shouldn’t try to sit up right now.” The same voice you faintly remember from the alley, the one that didn’t want to leave you, before blacking out calls out from across the bedroom. The room is quite large from what you could tell and his smooth voice seems to be leagues away. “Lay back down before you bleed out again—I’ll change your bandages.” From the shadows, a man whom you presume to be Yaku emerges before you, perfect pale skin and sandy brown locks nearly reflecting in the moonlight as he approaches. His face, while incredibly handsome, is blank and is strictly business as he saunters near. Even as he is gingerly tearing off the tight bindings around you with next to no effort, his face remains nonplussed. Even as he washes the dried, crusty blackened blood off your bare chest, nothing. “Do you remember anything?” Yaku’s voice is quiet and somber as he asks his question. He takes your silence as a no.

Your mind is a hazy smog, trying to recall any type of memory at all. Rather than actual imagery, you see a white light when you close your eyes—you see colors you don’t remember seeing before, you hear crying. You hear your name. Not just your first name or a nickname either, you hear your entire given name along with your birthday, even the time of birth.

Any attempt to recall memories is interrupted by a sharp pain. You suck in a breath as Yaku tries to lift your arm to wrap the fresh bandages around your torso, causing him to grimace ever so slightly. This task was a bit easier for him when you were still unconscious, but nonetheless he is glad you’re awake. When the pain subsides, you peel your eyelids back once again, staring at the man sitting at the edge of the bed in wonder. Why was he tending to your wounds? How did he fit into the story? “You needn’t worry about that right now, [name],” he murmurs quietly, reintroducing the same delicate tone you heard before blacking out in the alley. Yaku can tell you’re wondering how he knew what to respond with and how he knew your name but, after a small deliberation, he decides it’s best not to overwhelm you right now. “Get some rest, little one,” he speaks again, “I’ll be here when you wake.” Before you know it, you’re out like a light once again.

Yaku exits his and Noya’s shared bedroom to dispose of the sullied bandages, only to be greeted to the sight of his mate leaning against the bannister closest to their room. “How’s she doing?” Yaku’s lips tighten, the seam becoming a hard line as his grimace deepens.

“She doesn’t remember anything but when I asked her if she did...”

“What?” Noya presses, perturbed at the silence. Very few things in their lives rendered Yaku speechless.

“She started seeing memories of her birth.” The two shorter leaders of the clan meander their way down the grandiose staircase in silence, each step accompanied by the dramatic chimes of a grand piano coming from the foyer. The music stops when they reach the bottom of the staircase, Sugawara pausing his fingers and quirking a brow at the couple. It was a rare occurrence to see both of them, or Nishinoya in the very least, look so morose.

“What’s got you guys looking so down? You look like someone just died.” The musician muses. Sugawara Koushi always did have the most twisted sense of humor—that was partially the reason that Yaku had kept him around. The other primary reason was solely for bragging rights and an inside joke between the clan because no matter how many times Sugawara introduced himself as Beethoven or Bach, people assumed that they all just meant he was talented. Not that it was literal and Sugawara was just a name he’d adopted when he earned another century of life.

“Ha ha,” Nishinoya drawls satirically, for both himself and for Yaku. The latter excuses himself, parting ways because he knows he can’t handle conversation right now. “Come on, Suga, that’s not funny. Yaku’s already taking this really hard and if we lose her...”

“Humans die all the time, Nishi. A conversion isn’t a guaranteed shot at a second life and Yaku knows that so why is he—“

“Because she was found just like I was. Wrong place at the wrong time and it ended with...” the shorter of the two can no longer find the words to speak. It didn’t matter how many centuries old everyone in the clan was, it didn’t matter that they had watched plagues take countless lives or even bared witness to some of Jack the Ripper’s victims—it was a different monster entirely to genuinely watch a person become prey to another human. “I hope she makes it through, if only to rip out the guys throat that stabbed her.”

Three months had passed since you had first woken up. Strength is returning to you little by little, though not enough for you to hold consciousness for more than a few minutes a day. Regardless, Yaku is relieved to see you making some form of progress, to see that you’re somewhat handling the conversion well. The head of the clan was almost always present when you did awake, though there were instances in which his partner, Nishinoya, had been the one to greet you.

Nishinoya was much more boisterous than his other half—much more talkative and, considering you haven’t found the strength to speak quite yet, that was entirely okay with you. You learned that Yaku and Nishinoya had been together a very long time and Yaku had saved his life ages ago, as the latter phrased it. In admiration, Noya mentions his partner’s abundance of patience—a skill that he himself lacked—and determination to see justice being served had swayed the younger of the two to continuously stand alongside him. Through these little vignettes of their life, however, Noya makes it a point to acknowledge the fact that he was once almost too overbearing for his senior, often intimidating him with just how open and blunt he was. “Nishi, are you boring her with details of our mundane life?” Yaku asks bemusedly as he enters the room you’d been resting in.

“Hey, we aren’t boring. I’m not boring you, am I?” Noya looks to your face, your expression not giving much away save for the light in your barely live eyes. It was far from mundane—if anything, hearing the stories made you so curious considering from just barely glancing with the two, they seemed to be a strange couple.

“We are,” Yaku confirms, though as to what, you aren’t sure. You were certain you hadn’t said anything aloud, considering you practically can’t. “Let’s just say I can hear your thoughts. It’s how we’ve been communicating with you.” The head of clan saunters over casually, sitting at the edge of the mattress opposite to his partner. Both of their rich, golden irises are gazing at you, gauging a reaction from you as he shares this bit of information. Weird, was the only way for you to describe it. Though Yaku didn’t need to read your mind to know that; the slightly panicked look on your face gave away your thoughts.

“Don’t think we don’t know about those vivid wet dreams you have of us—“

“Yū, you weren’t supposed to tell her that!”

“What? We’re all adults here—“

“Nishi, get out,” Yaku covers his face in utter horror, even more so as his partner exits the room laughing as he does so. Shameless Noya. The door closes, leaving you and Yaku alone—were he able to go red out of embarrassment, he probably would have. “I-I am so sorry about him.” Testing out the information that the man beside you supplied moments ago, you reassure him that it’s fine—that you have no control over your dreams and that he probably doesn’t have a way to turn off this strange ability. For a moment, he’s relieved because you seem to be accepting everything with grace thus far; maybe telling you the truth wasn’t going to be the worst case scenario.

But the thought of the truth makes Yaku hesitate—there was no way you were ready to handle the entirety of the truth. At the moment, you could barely handle your weekly check-ups with Akaashi—the household doctor. After a formal introduction, you learned that Akaashi was the one who patched up your wounds when you were first brought to the little mansion. From what you gathered, he was quiet and direct, kind even, but you hated the weekly visits. Not only was Yaku carrying you rather painful, as you’re still recovering from your injuries, but Akaashi had to do regular blood transfusions because, according to the young doctor that you swore could not have already completed medical school and residency, you had lost a lot of blood during the incident.

An incident in which you still can’t recall.

“It’ll come to you,” Yaku says morosely, probably responding in accordance to your thought. The man beside you gets up from the bed, holding his arms open to you, silently asking for permission to pick you up. “Sorry, I’ll try to be more gentle.” His arms are cold as he lifts you up, but all you can focus on is the throbbing in your back as he moves you. A sharp intake of breath leaves your lungs as Yaku supports you physically, adding gentle words of encouragement because he can almost feel how much pain you’re in. Every step down the steep staircase adds another metaphorical bruise to your tender skin, a small groan leaving your throat each time. And while you’re not uncomfortable with the idea of being in Yaku’s arms, you’re grateful when you’re laid down in Akaashi’s office along the leather exam seat.

“How are you feeling today, [name]?” The young doctor asks as he preps you for your blood transfusion. Much to your surprise, you feel hungry—ravenous, even—like you hadn’t eaten a meal in months. Maybe you hadn’t; it wouldn’t be that ridiculous to consider since your memory was a little shoddy.

“You’ll feel better after the transfusion,” Yaku reassures from the chair he’s sitting in beside the exam bed, “we’ll get some food in your system before we start your physical therapy.” There’s an interesting intonation in the way he speaks this, you notice. Like there’s an underlying joke or hidden agenda that you don’t quite understand, but at the same time, the strange phrasing doesn’t trigger your fight-or-flight system in any capacity. If anything, it just seems that Yaku wants to help you regain strength as best you can.

Though, that was currently proving to be a challenge as well. While you weren’t entirely sure how long ago your injuries occurred, you knew a decent amount of time had to have passed. One of your first check-up appointments with Akaashi led to the explanation of the muscle atrophy in your legs from lack of use. Once you slowly became acclimated to being awake for more than just a few minutes a day, Daichi was introduced to you as your physical therapist. He was another enigma—entirely too young to be as experienced as he was in his field, but you decided against questioning it—temporarily mute or not.

Being mute was another issue that was taking much longer than you liked. You hated only being able to communicate through Yaku’s inexplicable talent of being able to read your mind. There were many occasions in which you wanted to ask Akaashi about your condition and how bad of a state you had been brought to him in; how you wanted to ask Sugawara how he’d learned to play such a vast variety of melodies so expertly; how you wanted to tell Nishinoya that every time he tried to feed you a soup or something, it tasted foul and metallic no matter how fresh it was.

You’d have to wait until you found your voice again.

After your check-in with Akaashi, Yaku brings you to Daichi’s office just down the hallway. “Hey, there’s our little fighter.” Daichi was probably the kindest out of everyone in the household. He had a warmth to him that seemed to contrast his icy fingers when he’d hold and guide you for your therapy sessions—a little uncanny that everyone in this mansion had freezing finger tips. Maybe everyone had poor blood circulation?

From the opposite end of the room, Yaku stifles a laugh by biting his cheek. Glad to know that your deconstructed concept of time hadn’t waned on your sense of humor. Meanwhile, Daichi lays you gingerly on a mat on the ground with you back flat as he wraps a resistance band around one of his ankles, as well as your own. “Alright, [name], I’m gonna help you get your leg up and I want to see you pull your leg up as high as you can go, understood?” Five didn’t seem like a very large number, but for now it was the goal. If you could at least lift your legs five times, it was progress considering the severe muscle atrophy in your legs.

Some days, it was difficult for Yaku to sit with you through therapy. He can see the way you wince in pain because you’re trying to relearn and rebuild your muscle groups; other times he just wanted someone, anyone, to blurt out the truth about the situation and hope that it inspires you to push yourself to heal. Some days, it was difficult because Yaku found himself just wanting to hold you in his bed that you’d taken over while the two of you plot out the revenge you didn’t even know you needed. But it wasn’t always bad. There were days, like today, where the progress on your therapy was going much better than anyone in the clan anticipated. There were days where Yaku would ask what you remembered about...anything, and you would have some form of answer for him.

On those days, Yaku began to realize that your memories were coming in chronological order. From the first time you sat up or crawled, to your first word even. In fact, Yaku’s favorite moment that he’s witnessed thus far was watching your father teach you to take your very first steps—it seemed to recur during your therapy sessions, as if subconsciously encouraging you to try to walk again. Maybe that’s why today, you were able to provide Daichi with double the repetitions that he asked for—a sure sign that strength and muscle were returning to your legs. But even with what progress you’ve made so far, Yaku makes it a point to carry you back to your room and lay you back in bed to rest. As always, Yaku tucked you in as he spoke, “get some sleep, little one. I’ll be here when you wake,”

For weeks on end, dreams stop becoming dreams. Per usual, Yaku awaits in the corner opposite of the bed where you rest, allowing your memories-turned-dreams to flood his mind. Each night, they’re progressively becoming more and more clear—you’re able to recall outfits that you’d worn twenty years ago with perfect detail, scars and scrapes that your friends had, even when that one sock was in the corner of your closet from when you were seven. But the clearer these chronological dreams became, the less frequently you were waking up and it was beginning to worry the head of the clan. While you were still obtaining your weekly blood transfusions to help sustain your life, it seemed to be that they were no longer providing you with enough energy to move past your current stage of recovery. “Yaku, she needs to start feeding,” Akaashi had instructed him during a consultation.

“I still haven’t told her—“

“Come on, man, it’s been almost eight months,” the house doctor groans. There was no reason to coddle you anymore as your life-threatening wounds had already healed for the most part. Sure, there was still discomfort from your broken ribs but even those had almost entirely healed over; your physical therapy sessions and rehabilitation with Daichi were going rather well but, at this point, if you didn’t start getting more substance in your body, this would be the end of the line for you. Akaashi had advised him this for weeks now, but Yaku still hesitated. “We’ve got to tell her.”

“I know, I know. I just—“ the sandy brunette ruffles his claws through his mussed locks in frustration, “I think her power is developing. And I’m afraid if we drop the bomb on her now, it’s going to halt or hinder that progress.”

“Either tell her or feed her,” Akaashi bites, “if you don’t, she’s not going to have any power because she’s going to starve to death.” With that, Akaashi walks away because he has nothing left to argue at this point. While he may be the youngest of the brood, this made Akaashi the most volatile of the group. More often than not, he was relatively kind and patient, timid even, as he was in his human life, but also very stern and strict—all of it coming from a place of love. And Yaku, knowing the tremendous amounts of emotional pain that the former had received, the leader of the clan dare not disrespect him.

Rather than making it an argument, Yaku roams around the lodge to grab a couple bags of O negative out of storage before heading back to his room. Much to his surprise, Nishinoya is sitting at the edge of the bed already, a slight look of panic washing over his features. “Yaku, I think something is wrong.” Without another word, the creature in question hands the bags of blood to his mate before resting his forehead against yours—a sure fire way to make sure that the mental images he picked up from you were pristine and uninterrupted as you dreamed—ignoring the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

You were at the Pike house. It was the first week of the new college semester and your roommates had convinced you to tag along to a frat party they were invited to. The night was going along exactly like a corny romantic comedy—you had locked eyes with a man from across the dance floor. He was sweet—much kinder than others you had met that night. He grabbed you drink after drink, but your memory begins to go fuzzy after that despite being able to recall memories of your own birth or the stupid girl that picked on you when you were twelve and even the small pimple on her temple that you figured was probably making her insecure. So if you were able to recall these memories, dreams, whatever they were, with such perfect clarity, why could you not remember leaving that party? Did that mean he had been drugging your drinks? It was entirely possible, considering Pike wasn’t exactly known for their hospitality. You vaguely remember the man holding your hand firmly as the two of you weave and bob around people and being met with the sweltering humidity of a muggy August night and your roommates, Yukie and Kaori, were nowhere to be found.

You were dragged into a dimly lit alleyway, stumbling with every step that the man had nearly carried you by your wrist alone, reeking of trash that had been long overdue for pick up and maybe even rotting carcasses. It was difficult to tell considering the drugs you assume that had been placed in your system and it was even more difficult to recall the memories. Bits and pieces of your memory were coming back in patches—though the face of the man that had brought you there was not one of them. Nor were any of his friends that had joined in, appearing at the opening of the alleyway. You remember the sound of tearing fabric, salacious laughter of the group of men surrounding your body. You remember feeling searing pain as one held a knife to your throat, warning you that he would slit your throat if you tried to scream.

The threat was replaced in the form of one of the frat boys ramming a half-hard cock down your throat, knife still in place along the jugular vein, while every orifice and inch of your skin had been violated. Vaguely, you remember trying to bite down on the cock in your mouth and run away. The one that threatened to kill you had missed your throat when you ran and threw the knife into your back instead. Foul screeches of demeaning slander left their mouths as they kicked your ribs in at full force, as if the knife deep in your back wasn’t bad enough.

You remember them leaving your bare, naked body in the alley for death to take you.

You remember their faces.

Awakening with a start, you sit up abruptly, only to fall back into the pillow with a resonant clacking noise followed by a dull throb to your forehead. Yaku recoils, mostly out of shock rather than pain—maybe laying his head on yours wasn’t his finest moment. “You remember,” he balks after he’s recovered from the impact. You’re trying to scream, no sound leaving your lungs while tears barreled out from your eyes. Remember? Why was that a memory? Why did it have to be a memory?

Nishinoya acts hastily, tearing open one of the O negative packs and draining half the contents into his mouth and holding it there as he shoves Yaku out of the way. The smaller of the two slats his lips over your silently screaming mouth, puncturing a small wound to the inside of your lip with his teeth and letting the blood trickle in the hole. It feels like pudding trying to push through a sieve, the flavor of copper and iron tampered out by an earthy, meat flavor—maybe venison? The desire to scream fades away as well, rather being over taken to have whatever nourishment Noya is giving you to enter you more and more. Out of necessity, you mold your lips over his, sucking hard on his lip while wrapping your arms around him because it just didn’t seem that he could get close enough in this moment. Despite the fingers you have threaded in Nishinoya’s gelled locks, he pulls away with a shit-eating grin, his tongue swiping away at the trail of red liquid dripping from the seam of his lips. “Careful, might make a guy a fall in love with that kinda kiss.”

“M-more,” you croak out, deflecting the younger one’s flirty comment all together. Yaku and Noya’s eyes go wide upon hearing your voice for the first time. The former acts on instinct, downing the remaining contents of the bag in his partner’s hand before reenacting the same gesture as the latter. Yaku’s lips are much softer than his partners—or maybe it’s the quelling of whatever hunger that hadn’t been satiated that eased the desire. With Yaku, his tongue laves against the wound that Noya had made, coaxing the fluid to enter at a much more steadfast, intimate pace. Even well after he was done feeding you, Yaku sucked on your tongue, encouraging you to reciprocate, so as to get every drop. “W-What was t-that?” You pant out brokenly as soon as the two of you break apart. The question startles the two sitting at the edge of the bed—now that you had your voice somewhat back, Yaku no longer needed to communicate for you. That also meant he couldn’t control the flow of responses to not overwhelm you.

“I think it’s time you finally got your answers,” Noya mumbles, treading carefully as he looks at his partner. It was a silent reassurance that, no matter how this scenario proceeded, he would be here to support Yaku. To make you more comfortable, he adjusts the pillows behind you so that your back can rest properly along the headboard.

“M-my d-d-dreams?” Having just rediscovered your voice, it still came out in sharp, staccato-like whimpers, but the boys weren’t going to discourage you from speaking. Much like everything else Yaku had done in his life, he had done with patience and your recovery and rehabilitation were no different. But your throat was still raw and it still hurt to speak—thankfully with your mind rushing like a bullet train, Yaku was able to grasp the entirety of your question.

“I think they’re more memories than dreams.” His words come out like a condemning nail in a coffin—like a doctor telling you you only have a few months left to live—because that means everything you recalled from Pike house, the drinks, the party, the alley, all of it was real. “Noya and I found you that night barely clinging to life. Naked, soaked in blood and semen. You died that night, [name].” As he speaks, his cold finger tips traced along your breast until you feel the throbbing mound of flesh—a scar of where the knife had been thrown into you from the back and exited out the front. “The knife had gone through your aorta. Akaashi spent a long time trying to repair it but was unable to.”

Your body begins to tremble as silent sobs wrack through your body. You died? “S-so how ‘mi h-here?” Yaku looks over at Noya in discernible worry—not because the head was afraid of telling the truth, no. He was afraid how you would react to the truth. His partner looks at him poignantly, mentally reminding him that this was eerily similar to how Noya had reacted when he had learned the truth as well. Yaku’s head bobs in agreement, swallowing his hesitance before speaking again.

“I made you like me. Like the rest of us.” Your brows furrowed in confusion, suspicion even, because there’s no way that he’s saying what you think he’s saying. But rather than offering a verbal response, Yaku holds his hand out towards Noya, in which he places the other bag of O Negative in his palm. While the original plan was to just feed you once again, the second Yaku tears open the bag, the hunger you thought had eased returned at full force. You rip the bag out of his cold hands, elongated claws scratched at you as you do so, before you down the contents like a shotgunned beer before you could realize what you were doing.

“T-This is a joke, right?” You balk, voice clear as day due to the strength returning to your body once again from freshly consumed sustenance. But the tensions have gone down significantly, to the point where Noya feels relief and excuses himself to feed, leaving you in Yaku’s solitary care. Once the two of you are left alone, Yaku can only shake his head as he continues to press on with the truth. This had to be a cruel, sick joke. But it wasn’t funny and you certainly weren’t laughing. Yet Yaku had no reason to lie to you and the snack you had just consumed moments ago was meant to serve as a final nail in the metaphorical coffin to make you understand that he was telling the truth.

“We have been alive for centuries—storytellers dubbing our kind as vampires—but originally, we were simply called the Damned.” Yaku proceeds to go through the history, much like he had with all the others before you, because he feels the need to share the truth, needs to tell you that your death isn’t the end of your life but rather the beginning like it had for all those in clan. The most recent addition to the family was Akaashi. He was less than a century old, compared to the others. Akaashi had been tied to a tree and shot repeatedly, only to watch his lover drown to death, who had been tossed into the ocean before shortly before with a thirty pound weight attached to his ankle with his last few breaths. Yaku and Sugawara were the ones to set his nearly lifeless body free with the head of the clan performing Akashi’s conversion. This lead to the newborn to coming back to slaughter the community that decided to his partner needed to die for being a man in love.

Each of their stories was nearly identical. Sugawara, who apparently has been every major known classical musician in history hiding under the guise of his shapeshifter ability, and Daichi were hanged together for being a homosexual couple after their village had carved unsavory words on their bodies to remind their reincarnations of their sins. Yaku and Noya had saved each of them respectively, and allowed the two of them to go on a rampage to annihilate their executioners.

Lastly, or rather firstly, was Nishinoya himself. As Yaku goes into detail about transforming his partner, he tears up ever so slightly. And as you listen actively with no interruptions, no questions even, as he tells you about how Nishi was wrongly imprisoned for theft and how the other prisoners constantly violated and sodomized his body because he was smaller than the rest; how he ended his own life by ingesting whatever toxic chemicals he could find and how Yaku broke him out of prison to start a new life together. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” the aforementioned prisoner re-enters the room, a fragile smile on his thin lips as he takes a seat beside his partner. “So you finally told her?”

“B-but why m-me? Why not just let me die?”

“Do you not want revenge against the assholes that killed you a year ago, [ name ]?” Noya bit before Yaku could jump in. “They’re still alive after what they did to you—how is that fair?!”

A year?

You had died a year ago. How did your family take the news? Your roommates and best friends? Nishi was right—it wasn’t fair at all. Yaku raises a hand towards his partner in attempts to get him to calm down before he got too riled up about the situation and before he could get out the most important question. “I have to know, [ name ], if you want to continue on with this lifestyle or not before we proceed with the real rehabilitation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You tilt your head to your newfound savior. He said it so nonchalantly, as if learning how to walk or learning that your diet was blood wasn’t rehabilitation.

“Well, we have to teach you how to feed properly so your strength gets back up—unless you just want us to feed you for the rest of your eternal life.” Noya jokes, waggling his eyebrows suggestively in what you’ve come to understand is his typical, joking demeanor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain.”

“Noya, can you maybe save the flirting for later?” Yaku grits out—once again slightly mortified. It brings laughter to the man in question; it was like rewatching his own life all over again, seeing him get flustered at the smallest amounts of forward affection. It was endearing, if anything.

“Sure. Let’s get [ name ] healthy first then.”

After coming to terms with your transformation and feeding more regularly, still off of a supply stock that the mansion carried, you were able to attend therapy sessions with Daichi more frequently. And while you hadn’t entirely regained muscle or use of your legs, you were able to at least stay awake more often than not. Rather than being cooped up in the bedroom, you found yourself lounging near the entryway where Sugawara would entertain you with the countless pieces he had written over the years. It was soothing and peaceful and Sugawara’s jovial personality kept you from spiraling into a deeper hole knowing that you died. It was still an insane concept, but the five men in your new home had worked hard to keep you sane. “Ready for your session?” Yaku asks gently as he takes a seat beside you on the luxurious sofa. He’s not as uptight as he was now that you knew the truth, though he still did get flustered when you would openly show affection. Even if it was something as simple as leaning your head on his shoulder like you were now.

“I think so,” doing what you could, you scooted and clambered onto Yaku’s lap, wrapping your arms around his neck firmly while your weakened lower limbs splayed across his lap. He tucks one arm under your knees while the other supports your back, effectively scooping you up and brings you to the kitchen where the blood stock is kept. You quirk a brow at the creature carrying you, knowing you’ve already had at least three bags since you woke up.

“Gotta get your strength up so you can recover faster,” is all he responds with before he sets you down on a bar stool. Yaku tears open the bag of O Negative and, much to your shock, he drinks half the contents without swallowing before his lips are on yours. One of his fangs finds purchase on the inside of your lip, sinking down and creating an opening for the blood to flow in for quicker delivery. Usually, Yaku would only have to feed you like this when you were in a weaker state, so it felt a bit out of place for him to be doing it right now, but it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. While the blood trickles into the wound, Yaku’s tongue swirls with yours intimately, coating the cavern with the liquid and he doesn’t stop until every ounce is clear from both of your mouths.

“Not complaining,” you say slowly, “but is there a particular reason you wanted to feed me instead of just letting my chug the bag?” As you ask your question, Yaku is draining the rest of the contents of the bag into his mouth before pulling you towards him in another kiss. The question is repeating over and over in your head, he can hear it loud and clear, but the other thoughts are spurring him on further. The thoughts of how Yaku’s touch makes you crave more, makes you want to feel his lips along your skin and his large hands gripping your thighs tightly. Sometimes he’s unsure whether or not you conveniently forget that he can read your mind, sometimes he wonders if you let your salacious thoughts run wild on purpose. His chest is heaving, deep intakes of breath are plunging through his nostrils despite the blood being long gone. He doesn’t want to stop but centuries of control are begging him to.

“We’re going somewhere today, after your PT,” Yaku pants out after he pulls away, tilting his head down because he can’t look at you right now—he’s afraid to. He needs to try to dampen whatever feral thoughts are running through your brain so that his own self-control doesn’t just get tossed out the window. “Noya and I are taking you out for your first hunt.”

“Uh, am I ready for that?” Shit, you can’t even walk in your own yet. Yaku laughs, grateful for the reprieve from your sexually charged thoughts when you point out the setback.

“That’s why the extra feeding tonight. I needed to make sure it was in your bloodstream so that you had enough strength for PT and the hunt,” Yaku adjusts you from barstool, scooping you into his arms once again to bring you to the mansion’s back garden. Daichi is standing a short distance away adorning a tight muscle tee and joggers, while Noya and Akaashi are sitting at the small table with cigars in hand. Yaku steadies you in front of Daichi, the latter holding onto your hands to make sure you don’t fall, before the former joins the rest the clan at the table. Sugawara emerges from inside the mansion as well, passing off a cigar to Yaku while lighting his own. It was uncomfortable in some capacity to have everybody watching—you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being critiqued on your performance.

“I’m going to be one step ahead of you, and I won’t let go, okay?” Daichi holds his arms out to give you space to take your first step. You take in a sharp breath, the scent of scent of cigars and pine trees overwhelming your nasal cavity. When did you sense of smell become that strong? With trembling limbs, you cling onto Daichi’s muscular forearms, praying to god you didn’t fall as you took a step forward.

“Hey, look!” Noya cheers from a distance, nudging Yaku in the stomach. “She took a step!” The excitement in his voice was evident because, after months of constant aid, Noya has come to have a soft spot for you almost as much as Yaku does. The two of them are watching, utterly enthralled with the way you’re only moving mere millimeters—but millimeters is better than nothing considering the muscle decay and atrophy that had taken place over the last year.

After the first few steps and curling your toes in blades of grass, your feet begin to relax as you tremble forward. Gripping Daichi with all the strength in your hands, you pick your right foot off the ground and place it forward. “That’s good, [ name ]! Gimme one more,” Daichi, a therapist in more ways than one, encourages you to continue moving, wanting to make sure both legs were receiving equal treatment. You repeat the motion with your left leg, taking two full steps. While not perfect, you kept moving forward with his guidance until his calves hit the stone wall of the garden fountain. Considering where you started, twenty five feet was a tremendous distance to cover. “You did amazing, [ name ].” The vampire holding onto you smiles big, pride swelling in chest like a father praising his daughter for taking first in a beauty pageant.

Yaku and Noya are by your side immediately in celebration, the latter much more overt with it as he’s hugging you and holding you up. “What do you think, Daichi? Is she strong enough to at least witness a hunt?” The former asks. Mentioning the “H” word again perks your ears up because a part of you almost wishes to not have to engage with whatever a hunt entails, but part of you also knows that this is your life now. Everything you thought you knew was no longer valid—this was your rebirth, your awakening.

“I think she’ll be okay if one of you carries her for it—“

“Ooh, I’ll do it!” Noya cheers almost too loudly in your ear as he’s still holding you. Without so much as a chance to offer a rebuttal, you’re swept up into his arms as he stands at full height before glancing at his mate. “Ready to go?” Yaku gives a nod, gripping tightly at the satchel over his shoulder before the three of you are off at breakneck speeds. They’re silent as they travel—perhaps because were they to open their mouths at this speed and velocity, they would be catching a whole lot of bugs in their mouths. To your surprise, the three of you end up outside ten-foot-tall brick walls and a chain link fence.

“This is a...”

“A prison,” Yaku answers simply, as if he were answering with what his favorite color was rather than his favorite meal, “considering our diet, we choose to collect our sustenance from those who do not deserve redemption.” There’s a malignant, dark twist in the headman’s words.

“Personally, I prefer going after the rapists and child molestors. Those bastards deserve to be drained of every ounce of blood.” Noya snarls—you could tell it was personal for him. But how could he tell? Surely it wasn’t just written on placards outside of prison cells.

“Easy. Walk in, ask them what they’re serving time for, and their minds fill in the blanks.” The foreboding you sensed from Yaku deepened even further; deepened to the point where it felt like a magnet drawing your eyes towards your savior. But he looked anything but. Yaku stood merely a few inches taller, his claws sharpening and turning black while red overtook the once golden hues of his irises. You look up at Noya curiously, wondering if he’ll undergo the same sort of transformation, but before you could even question it, the gold in his own eyes had already molded into crimson rings.

The three of you enter the building with ease, aiming for the top floor because, according to Nishi, that was where they kept the worst criminals. It played out exactly as Yaku said it would—ask them what they were imprisoned for and, if they were in captivity under the basis of rape, first or second degree murder, sexual assault, or anything involving a minor, he would sink his fangs into their jugular vein and drain them dry. Though he announces his satisfaction, he remains in this strange form that he has presented you with as Nishinoya passes you off into his arms.

The smaller of the two repeats the same process, taking down two prisoners of his own before taking the satchel off of his partner’s shoulder. Noya continues questioning prisoners, letting Yaku’s power of mind reading acting as the judgment call, before pulling out a small, sharp knife from the satchel and slitting each victim’s throat while holding them downcast like a gavel banging down the rule. As blood fountains from their necks, Nishinoya holds fresh IV bags over the openings to collect whatever comes out like rain. Was this how they ended up getting blood for you to feed over the past year. “Yes,” Yaku answers evenly, looking down at you with his crimson eyes, “but we were hoping to actually teach you how to feed tonight. Are you up for it?” Every nerve in your body seemed to scream no, like you shouldn’t be witnessing these events let alone doing it.

But your guts are telling you yes, yes this is now your way of survival. These men were horrid, their victims needed justice. You needed justice. Giving Yaku a small nod, he gives you instructions while the three of you search for your very first meal. Considering neither your fangs nor claws had grown in, as you were very much still a baby by all intents and purposes, Noya would have to incapacitate your prey for you while you bit the inside of your lip, reopening the same puncture wounds from earlier, to allow easier access for the nutrients to enter your body. Once they were out, Noya would puncture the jugular vein for you, while Yaku dipped you down far enough to feed.

Your lips latched on to the raw skin, hooking your own canines for leverage as you draw the blood from your dinner and the moment the warmth seeped into the opening, all doubts about what you were doing had flown out the window. You adjusted the way you’re sitting on your victim, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders as you continuously sucked every drop of life from him. “Did she just—“ Noya questions, not missing the fact that you had just moved your atrophied legs. And while Yaku is very aware of his mate’s balking, he can only focus on the way your lips mold against your meal’s neck or the muted slurping noises bubbling from your lungs like a woman starved. In a sense, that was quite literal. Noya looks over at his partner—silence wasn’t typical of Yaku when asked a question—but words are lost on him when he sees the way Yaku’s eyes are hungrily staring at your form and he’s unsure if its due to hunger or hunger. The moan that leaves your tongue when you finally pull away from the now empty body confirms the shorter one’s suspicions. “Not that seeing you turned on doesn’t turn me on, but you might wanna put that away, Morisuke.” Noya teases before walking towards you, the call of his given name causing Yaku to snap out of his stupor. Well fuck, he snarls bitterly in his head. He was gonna have to feed again, considering all the blood he had just consumed went straight to his cock.

You feel alive—more alive than you felt in ages. And despite your attempt being incredibly shaky, you managed to stand on your own two feet, using the wall to brace yourself. Noya rushes over to your side to try to hold you steady, asking if you’re alright. “I’m more than alright, Nishi, holy shit.” He has an arm under you, carefully bringing you back towards Yaku, though for the most part, you’re walking entirely on your own.

“So what, have you guys just been giving me snacks this whole time?” You sneer teasingly, though Yaku looks away because your accusation because it isn’t entirely wrong. The blood packs were indeed “snacks” but were usually only used to stave off hunts, that way they didn’t just decimate the prison on an every other day basis, but were also used as post coitus replenishments.

“One more?” Yaku coughs out, as if choking on his own spit. “We can do this one together, if you like.” He’s trying to be polite, despite the feral look in his eyes while also trying to calm down the lust and adrenaline running rampant in his system.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” As opposed to carrying you this time, Yaku flanks to your empty side, helping you walk between him and Noya until you came upon your next victim. This one was larger than the last few—stocky and skin marred with stories of a brutal past. No matter which way you looked at him, he looked bitter, and after asking him what he was in for, you figure he was a perfect candidate. After all, intentionally murdering his wife and three children was heinous by definition. Yaku approaches the much taller man, crouching ever so slightly in the event your meal tried to escape; not that he could even if he wanted to. The leader of the Damned was behind him in seconds, snapping his neck to disarm the threat that was his build.

To everyone’s surprise, you made your way over slowly to the now lifeless, six-foot-three prisoner while Yaku punctured holes on both sides of the victim’s neck, allowing the both of you to feed. It was oddly intimate, being so close to someone while sucking the literal life out of somebody. The lapping, sucking noises brought back salacious thoughts to the man beside you, and he’s doing all that he can just to avoid trading sustenance for an erection again. Meanwhile, Noya is watching both of you in amusement. Does his partner realize that he’s gingerly scraping his claws along your spine? Is it out of encouragement, or interest? Yu can’t quite tell, but he finds it entertaining nonetheless. Even more so when Yaku squirms at the throaty moan leaving your lungs when you pull away, lips plump with a bead of leftovers dripping from the seam of you mouth.

Either way, Nishinoya knows it won’t be long now until Yaku cracks. Despite the great amount of self-control he tends to exercise, Yaku is but a simple creature that cannot stave off his desires and Noya is no different. They were going to give way to their desires sooner rather than later, but they made a vow eons ago that revenge must always come first.

One year, three months, one week, and four days. That was how long it had been since you died in the alleyway. Today was the day those boys were going to die for what they did.

By now, you were fully functioning; walking on your own, feeding on your own. The only difference between you and the others was that you still slept, though not very much anymore, and according to Akaashi, it would be a trait that you would grow out of maybe two decades after your first century. That was actually the sole reason there was even a bed in the house—Nishinoya still slept merely because he enjoyed it. He wasn’t like the others who had found a passion project that kept him up around the clock, so more often than not, he would join you in bed. After all, it was originally his bed.

And more often than not, Yaku would sit in the spacious window sill while Noya wrapped his arms around you protectively in your shared slumber, as if to abide by the repeated mantra he had said over the last year—he’ll be there when you wake.

Your dreams are no longer memories, as you’ve got caught up to current events thanks to the playback speed that they paced themselves at. Now, you’re able to recall on every single event of your life that you’ve witnessed thus far with perfect detail—including the faces of your five murderers. Each of them belonged to your university Pike fraternity; two of them were a year older than you, two the same age, and the one who had the knife to your neck was a freshman not yet old enough to drink legally, but apparently old enough to to pull the metaphorical trigger and throw the knife that had gone through your entire body, severing your aorta in your heart.

After researching in the form of disguise, you learned that tonight Pi Kappa Epsilon would be holding their annual holiday gala; fancy words for a giant frat party for those who chose not to return to their hometowns for Christmas. Knowing how these events tend to function—it was relatively easy to sneak in, even with Nishinoya and Yaku flanking your sides. You flashed the doorman a crisp fifty, knowing males always had to pay a fee for entry while women always got in for free. The bouncer grins upon seeing you in a tight, red body-con dress, but the grin is immediately displaced when his eyes land on the two men beside you. Giving your best, most flirtatious smile, you grab both of their wrists before heading inside. “Don’t lose me, okay?” You yell over the pounding music.

“We won’t,” they say in unison. Noya gives you a reassuring smile, hand pressed against Yaku’s back gently, while the latter purses his lips together in discomfort. “Just keep talking to me through here,” he adds, pressing his cold lips to your forehead chastely, “and I’ll find you.” You give him a confident nod before you throw yourself into the throng of people to find your targets. It proved a bit of a challenge, considering the strobe lighting and the myriad of people—all of the men looked the same on top of that. But once your eyes narrowed in on the man you first lured you, it was game over.

Like a tiger ready to pounce, you sauntered over to him, pushing aside whomever he was with at the moment before wrapping your arms lewdly around his neck. He looks down at you skeptically, but otherwise pleased with the bold actions. From a short distance away, Yaku and Noya are hiding like wallflowers, listening to the resounding chant happening in your head that screamed to kill him. “You know,” Noya chimes in lowly, distracting Yaku from the way your hips are grinding and gyrating against the strange man’s, “we could just kill the entire fraternity.” Yaku shakes his head—Noya was always fond of the idea of revenge against all who were guilty by association. While the others in the clan gave into his persuasion, Yaku never found it amusing.

“What if they had no idea that their brother killed someone?”

“They probably bragged about it,” Noya grumbles. From his own experience, the shorter of the two liked to think that he knew how these people tended to operate.

“It’s go time.” Yaku says abruptly, eyes locked onto your retreating form as you pull one of your rapists by the tie and lead him out the frat house. The two Damned maneuver their way towards the quietest space, hunting for a window they can exit out of to follow you without garnering too much attention towards the situation. When they end up on the sidewalk outside of the Pike house, they see you parading—brokenly, complete with fake stumbles to allude to you being drugged again—the man by the tie until he shoves you into the same alleyway.

Close behind were four others, all built and stocky as they traveled in their pack and making their way towards the alley. You were cornered amongst trash and dead rats, the five of them trying to zero in on you, yet you showed no fear. Instead, you stood at full height with the addition of your stilettos, as your body transitioned into it’s more predatory form. “Remember me?” You ask sweetly, cracking your knuckles nonchalantly. Your hair that’s covering the ugly mound of flesh scarred over from your injury is swept over the opposite shoulder, giving them full view as your short, blackened claws graze over the skin. “Over a year ago, the five of you brought a woman to this alley, raped her and you,” a feral snarl leaves your lips as you point to the youngest fraternity brother, “threw a knife into her back that went all the way through her heart and killed her.”

The five of them begin looking over at each other, wondering who ratted out who considering they had never spoken of the night since it occurred. It was easy to avoid, considering the body was never found. There was never any evidence. “W-who are you?” The youngest one squawks out.

“Don’t remember?” Your head snaps in the direction to one of the older members. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.” There’s no more room for talking, no room for rebuttal. Instead, you grab the same man you lured into the alley by the tie, bringing him close enough to snap his neck. When he was neither moving nor breathing, the remaining four began to back up.

“Yo, this bitch is crazy, let’s get out of here—“

“You think you’re just gonna get away?” Noya laughs dryly as it crescendoed into full volume, shaking the walls and mimicking an earthquake that did not expand beyond the walls of the alley. The remaining four fall to the ground, not prepared for such loud noises let alone a trembling earth to accompany the sound. Yaku shakes his head in utter disgust before the crimson ring in his eyes locks with the prey.

“Done eating, love?” He calls out, causing the four other frat boys to look over in horror at the “e” word. Once again, you’re standing at full height, the back of your hand wiping away the blood that had escaped from your mouth from your feeding.

“Not quite yet,” With every step you took, they trembled back, only to be met with your two saviors blocking their only exit. The youngest one is hiding all the way in the back, trepidation causing his bones to rattle within his skin as his back hits Yaku’s calf. “I’m still hungry.” Noya lets out a snort at this—he truly did love your sense of humor.

“You’re next.” Yaku looks down at the young boy, only nineteen-years-old, who had been your executioner. That same boy looks at the leader of the clan in horror, eyes wide because he never in a million years saw this as his end. Effortlessly, Yaku picks him up by the collar of his shirt before tossing him in your direction. Rather than catching him, you gathered your claws together to form a single point, driving the makeshift lance through the stomach of the one who had ended your life. Without verbalizing it, you gave the boys permission to feed on the other two—so long as it wasn’t the one that you had tried to bite down on when he rammed his cock in your mouth.

You had plans for him.

In the mean time, you pull the now lifeless body off of your bloodied hand, drinking down whatever was dripping down your arm before tossing him off to the side; you had one more pressing matter to deal with. The last of the boys—the dessert to your meal was pressed against the wall as he tried to run from this situation, watching in mortification as Yaku and Noya beheaded the other two brothers with their bare hands, feasting on their prey. “Like I said,” you sneered as you approached the last one, ripping off his pants and boxers much like he had when he violated your mouth. “I should have bit your dick off when I had the chance.”

And so you did.

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” Yaku muses, having finished his meal, gawking at the way you had just left the last one along the wall with his penis bitten off all the way down to the base while you returned to the youngest member again, draining your murderer for all he was worth.

“I dunno, it’s kinda hot, babe.” Noya jokes, watching in amusement as well.

“I’m actually kinda full,” You shrug, having drained the stabber entirely—that put your body count to two full bodies. “D’you guys wanna have the last one? I got all I wanted from him.” At sound of your permission, Yaku approaches the last one with a predatory glare, not daring to break eye contact as he asked you one more question.

“[ name ], do you feel that justice been served?” With a nonplussed grimace, you gave a shrug.

“If anything, these assholes got the short end of the stick. They murder a girl they raped so she comes back from the dead and kills them all with two beautiful men by her side? Yeah, I’m happy with that.”

By the time you returned home, you were an entirely different creature. You felt...free. Like there was nothing else anchoring your dead heart, like you no longer had a tether to this world. Like you had no purpose.

So now what?

Silently you meander back to your shared bedroom to further contemplate your existence, the boys you left behind glancing at each other in concern. “Want me to talk to her? I might be able to better sympathize.” Noya asks quietly so that your now heightened hearing can’t quite pick up on the conversation. Regardless, Yaku shakes his head. He knows exactly what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling and not just because of his ability to read minds.

“I’ve got a few things I want to say to her anyway.” Noya presses a tender kiss to his mates cheek before he flits away to hang out with Daichi as he normally does when he’s not with Yaku, while the head of the clan makes his way to the room. You’re lying in bed already, the dress and stilettos shed and traded for bare feet and a slip. Despite your back turned towards him, you feel the bed dip as he lays beside you, something atypical of Yaku. “How do you feel?” His voice is merely a whisper as he cautiously wraps an arm around your waist.

“Shouldn’t you know the answer?” You retort, but Yaku doesn’t recoil because he knows. He knows the sort of limbo you feel you’re placed in now that your postmortem mission had been carried out. What were you supposed to do for the rest of eternity besides act as an impromptu executioner, feeding off of the worst criminals within a hundred mile radius?

“Is that all you see us as?”

“No,” You say quietly. These Damned men had accomplished great things, from what you knew of them, in their lifetimes. Sugawara has continued composing even well after his other alias’ deaths, Akaashi has been working on a research piece for decades regarding cancer in the form of preventative measures rather than a cure, in addition to a cure. Daichi had participated in the Olympics a number of times, Yaku was once a politician in multiple countries and Nishinoya had worked closely with electronic developers over the years including Microsoft and Linux. “You guys have accomplished so much in your lifetimes, I just don’t want to be some sort of disappointment—“

“[ name ], we never knew were going to do those things. We just kept pushing on, finding out things we were passionate about and since we have unlimited time, we’ve had time to hone and perfect those skills.”

“What if I never do anything that great?” Yaku lets out a sigh, turning your now fully restored body around to face him and pressing his face into your neck. Over the duration of your rehabilitation process, he’d become so over protective of you, wanting what’s best for you in any capacity yet never fully being honest with himself.

“You have time to figure it out,” he mumbles into your own icy skin, lips tickling your veins. “Until then, just stay? With me?”

“Yaku...” he had never fully outright asked you to stay—only alluding to it in the past with talks of the future.

“I-I want you,” he whispers almost uncharacteristically. Being a diplomat, stuttering was not a thing that Yaku did very often. “To stay with us forever. To stay with me forever.” This is it, he figures. It’s now or never. Yaku can’t stand the idea of you leaving the clan, leaving him when he hadn’t yet had a taste of you, had you in any other form than a few mere kisses for feeding or in fantasies. Pulling away, Yaku shifts once again so that his arms are holding his weight above you, his lips ghosting intimately over yours.

Both of you are overly aware of the attraction that’s there—you knew of the daydreams you’d had of him throughout the year and with his ability, he was unwillingly subjected to them. Reaching up slightly, your lips press against his hungrily, your tongue immediately dancing along the seam of his lips, begging for permission to enter. Yaku doesn’t waste a second dropping the support from his arms in favor to press his body fully into yours because he’s been waiting for this moment. It’s evident in his fervent kiss, it’s evident in his ever present erection. A mewl warbles in your throat as you feel him grind against you.

Why the hell had you waited so long for this? Why did he wait so long for this?

There was no more waiting.

Breaking a part for a moment, you pull the slip off your torso hastily while Yaku unbuckles his belt and frees his lower half. Impatience floods you as you tear off the thin Henley he’s wearing, leaving the two of you entirely bare in front of each other. The large scar on your bosom that had made you self conscious for months suddenly felt dull in comparison as you’re met with the varying marks that marred Yaku’s skin. From what you could tell, they looked like whiplashes. “I need you now,” he pleads, ignoring your wandering thoughts as he hungrily pulls you in for another kiss. Though rather short lived, your overwhelmed with warmth and pulsing in your core as his fangs run along your neck before sucking lovingly at your collarbone.

“O-oh,” you moan out wantonly, clutching at his shoulders to keep yourself steady. With no preparation, not that you needed any, Yaku slowly sheaths his member inside of you, the girth stretching you deliciously. For a moment, the two of you remain still to bask in the reprieve you both felt, unaware of the third party member watching pleased in the lounge chair across from the bed. “Fuck,” you hiss out between your teeth as he’s pushing in inch after inch.

“You’re doing so good, princess,” for a moment, he’s impressed—taking eleven inches with little to no preparation can be torturous, and he knew that from experience. “Come on, baby take the last of it—oh fuck yeah,” Yaku groans out as soon as he’s balls deep within you. The two of you are still, enjoying the moment of togetherness before he bottoms out entirely in your sweet little hole. His hips move almost languidly so as not to hurt you but good lord for all that is unholy, is he holding back.

Soft whimpers leave your lungs each time his hips snap back into yours—why the hell hadn’t you fucked Yaku sooner?! A throaty chuckle grumbles in his chest at the thought. Even with him slamming his cock in you at half-force, his mind is intertwined with yours to the point where your thoughts feel like his own. “I had to take care of you princess, wanted to make sure you could handle me fucking you.”

“Then fuck me harder, ass-hat.”

“He likes it better when you call him senpai.” Nishinoya calls out from the opposite corner of the room, as if he wasn’t just leisurely watching his partner ream himself into your core. You let out a scream and at this point, you aren’t sure if it’s because Yaku have a particularly hard thrust with the head of his dick meeting with the edge of your womb or if Nishinoya’s presence surprised you. Even more so to see that he was stark naked, stroking his cock that he’s presenting to your mouth.

“Suck off your senpai, princess.” Yaku whispers devilishly in your ear, holding his cock still within you as he does so. Tentatively, you give a kitten lick to the head before you, testing out Nishinoya’s reaction to the motion before deeming him worthy. A soft grunt escapes him, his body more than welcoming of the sensation—but it just wasn’t enough for you.

“I need a better reaction than that, Nishi,” You joke.

A poor plan on your part.

The shorter of the two looks down at you curiously, a wicked twist of his lip displayed for you as he briefly tosses an amused look towards Yaku, to which the latter lets out a chuckle in addition to the shake of his head before he starts to withdraw his cock from within you. “How’s this for reaction?” Noya chirps before deftly wrapping his claws in your hair, slamming his engorged member down your throat while Yaku simultaneously thrusts back inside you. The carnal desires that had run rampant through your mind on occasion had built to this moment, built up the needy desire that the boys finally had the chance to release with you. “Yeah, you take that cock in your throat, baby. Show us how much you’ve wanted us from the start.”

Nishinoya is absolutely relentless as he repeatedly withdraws and replaces his erection in your mouth, pulling so far back as to have his tip tease and smear pre-cum along your lips, all the while chanting praise and how much he loves you; how much he’s dreamed of having you between him and Yaku. The latter can’t help the stuttering motion of his hips as he unabashedly strokes his member along your walls, the tip of dick all but moving into your womb. “Yeah, princess, take your senpais cocks so fucking good, yeah? You want us to fill all your holes with our fucking cum, don’t you?” You can only wail out around Nishinoya in your mouth in response, clenching and squeezing your pussy tightly around Yaku inside you. The clan head lets out a very audible groan at the abrupt friction. “Oh, fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, senpai’s gonna cum so fucking hard inside you, yeah yeah yeah.” Yaku is absolutely wrecking and ravaging your lower half while all the foul, salacious words leaving him were only serving to turn on his partner even more until the both of them hold still to empty their first loads inside you.

After a momentary reprieve, the two of them withdraw from you, the smallest whine leaving your lips at the distinct emptiness. Between pants, both of the males look to each other before letting out a laugh. “Princess,” Noya calls out from your left, golden eyes light and airy as they gaze at you, “did you think we were going to let you cum?”

“Y-yes?” Why wouldn’t they? Wasn’t that just normal, sex etiquette between partners?

“Oh no, love,” Yaku adds, “We’re gonna show you just how much we love you, gotta coat every inch of your skin in our fluids before you can even think about cumming.” Before you can blink, the boys are up again with Nishinoya taking his position with the tip of his still hardened member teasing the outer lips of your pussy. Meanwhile, Yaku makes it a point to slap your cheek with his own erection, making sure to keep your attention and focus on him. Simultaneously, they thrust into their respective orifices that they’ve traded—Yaku treating you much more delicately versus Noya who shoves his entire mast inside your depths.

“Oh damn, babe, you’re so fucking tight!” The latter howls, throwing his head back in ecstasy. Despite having identical lengths, Nishinoya was much more rough and rigid, your walls acclimating to every vein out of necessity before relentlessly pounding away at your insides. At his pace, your pussy doesn’t even have a chance to miss the feeling of fullness. Your voice is no longer coming out in moans or screams due to the damning pace—only in a broken staccato of warbles from the speed that Noya’s fucking you. “Yeah, baby? Gonna stay here with us forever and get dicked down every night? You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

But with the almost tender, loving way Yaku is holding your throat while repeatedly sliding his cock in from tip to base, there is no actual way you can reply. Instead, you let out grunts and cries of affirmation because you would stupid not to welcome the way these two were screwing you. It’s also more than just that.

These two, as well as the rest of the brood, had taken you in being inches from death, presented you with another opportunity for life that served as an opportunity for you to seek revenge, while caring for you and almost...loving you.

“We do,” Yaku bites, withdrawing his cock from your lips offended at the thought of almost, “love you, that is.” The hand that is cupping your throat moves to brush the backs of his claws along your jaw before pulling your chin and torso up so that Yaku can kiss you fully. There is no lust or wanton desire in this kiss—it’s love through and through that is simultaneously cold yet warm.

“You’ve been dreaming about us for a long time, princess,” Noya grits out, his peak approaching all too quickly with the way you’re clenching around him with no relief. He’s panting heavily, no longer caring about his need to assert his dominance in any capacity; all he can think about is cumming deep inside you while you cum around his thick cock. “We want to make your dreams come true.”

Yaku pulls away from the kiss in time to hear your cries—a delicacy he had never had the pleasure of knowing in a past life—as you cum with Noya. The latter is holding still for a brief moment before withdrawing, his spent body collapsing beside you. You’re sensitive, you realize, as Yaku slides back in to reclaim his space. Your walls are still trembling in the aftermath of your orgasm, but Yaku is much more gentle this time around. Pressing his body flush against yours, he wraps both his arms around you with one cradling your head, the other around your lower back to pull you as close as possible. His shallow moving thrusts in accompaniment to his pulsing girth are enough to trigger yet another orgasm in direct succession, and coercing his own orgasm. “Please stay, [ name ].” He mumbles into your hair as he feels his seed spurting within you. Though you supply no answer due to trying to catch your breath, you only nod in response. Yaku remains still inside you, so as if to seal both his and his partner’s emission within you with his own softening cock, smiling at the simple fact that you had nodded in response. “Get some rest, little one,” He adds, adjusting so that he’s on the opposite side of you and a now sleeping Noya. “We’ll be here when you wake.”

[s-creations]

Return the Flames - Chapter 2

All at Dead Bird Studios knew of Amos' (The  Conductor's) ability. How the owl could suddenly erupt into flames if  angered enough. When the studio first opened, Dominic (DJ Grooves) was  told that Amos had his ability under control. Nothing to worry about. No  possible loss of anything from an open flame.

A few years later however, and that control seems to have lessened to a dangerous degree.

It should have just been a simple, week long drive to fix the problem. It really should have been.

Dominic should have asked a lot more questions and should have been prepared for a twist ending.

_________________

Fandom: A Hat in Time Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: The ConductorXDJ Grooves Warnings: Eventual depictions of violence, slow burn relationship, named characters, attempt of an accent, being hunted down, a race against time (sort of).

In two days time, the back of Dominic’s trunk was filled with suitcases. Dead Birds Studio had its doors closed, with its workers being told to relax at home for the next week. All were confused as to why their bosses were leaving, together, for so long, together. But there was a spark of hope that this was the indication that the feud was well and truly over. 

 Dominic closed said trunk before casting his eyes over to the studio steps. Amos was taking time to give farewells to his family. Grandchildren climbing over the elder owl, who was speaking to a very sickly looking one. Even with a few mottled patches, Dominic knew it was Amelia from the numerous photos that hung from Amos’ office. 

 The penguin knew that the younger owl was very ill. With what, he’d never known. But it exhausted her, seeming to continuously molt, Amos being heard from his office shouting to make sure she was cared for. The conductor constantly fretted over the possibilities. Amos worked over time as train conductor, director, and baby sitter when Amelia needed a day to sleep. Dominic may not like the other’s personality some times, the penguin couldn’t deny that Amos was an amazing father. Pushing himself to a dangerous degree. 

 Amos was speaking quickly and quietly, occasionally reaching out to preen a few feathers on Amelia. Who in turn would just smile and nod, giving a gentle response, eventually pulling Amos into a tight hug. When they broke apart, Amos helped his daughter back into her wheelchair. It was a bit of a challenge to get the grand kids off of him. A pure white dove, the nursemaid if Dominic remembered, helped pull the tiny birds off. Now free, Amos placed a gentle kiss on Amelia’s forehead before making his way over to the car.

 The penguin caught Amelia’s eyes and gave a wave in greeting. Which she returned in kind with another warm smile. 

 “Oi, are we goin’ or not.” Amos huffed as he climbed into the car. 

 “Alright Darling, alright. Let’s get this show on the road then.” Climbing in as well, Dominic brought the car to life and pulled out of the parking lot.

 They’d left early enough that the streets were bare. The sky was an inky darkness, the stars unseen among the steady lights of the city. The silence stretched on between them. Dominic itched to turn on some music. But he wasn’t sure what Amos would not complain about. Although the penguin also wasn’t sure what to talk about to fill the silence. They’d just started and it already felt like it had gone on for too long. Clearing his throat, the penguin went with the first safe topic that came to mind.

 “Amelia looks well.” Dominic chanced as the traffic light turned green. 

 “She is…” Amos offered as a reply. 

 “Is she...okay with this? This trip, I mean.”

 “More than I am.”

 “You didn’t have to take my offer-”

 “Not that, ya peck neck. She’s actually thankful I’m doin’ somethin’ reasonable about this.”

 “For once.”

 “And what does that mean.”

 “That you only recently stopped doing your own stunts.”

 “Ya sound like my bloody health insurance.”

 “But you can admit, I have a point.”

 “Peck neck.”

 “Bringing the original topic back. Are you worried about the trip?”

 “There’s...a lot ta worry about. But I did spend the better part of these days ta make sure she was financially set. So, that’s one less fret.”

 “Are you expecting a problem with her while we’re gone?”

 “...No. Not really. And I thought I told ya no more questions.”

 “It’s in relation to the conversation about your daughter. I wasn’t sure how far that request went.”

 “She’s fine. She has help. She’s goin’ ta be set. There, we talked. Now leave it.”

 Dominic felt his feathers ruffle in frustration, but did as requested. It wasn’t his place to push for answers and he honestly didn’t have the fighting energy at the moment. If the Conductor was going to shut down then the penguin wasn’t going to worry about it. He was just a convenient ride. But as they left the city limits and silence fell again, Dominic searched for another point of conversation. Anything to just get rid of this tension.

 It dawned on him how little he and Amos had in common. Amos never opened up and, when they were full time rivals, they weren’t ones to share personal information or interests. Even if the penguin liked conversing, when they were fighting he knew better than to try and get close to the other. Now that the rivalry fell away, there was still too many years of animosity to just have everything be okay. This new beginning was going to be hard to achieve. Especially if Amos shut down like this.

 Dominic was broken from his musings hearing the other beginning to snore. It wasn’t as loud as the penguin thought it would be. Just a gentle whistling created by the owl’s barely opened mouth. Such a contrast to his large personality. Dominic chuckled as he refocused on the road. 

 Turning on the radio and keeping the volume low, Dominic let himself become lost to the music.

         It was burning.

  A fire alight in his chest that was steadily growing. Clawing, tearing at his throat as it tried to escape. When it couldn’t, it started to consume him. Fear rising as he felt his body starting to melt from the heat. The inky blackness that surrounded him, the cool pressure, filled with bright, brilliant stars that shined in the quiet calm. It was maddening. 

  As he burned, it’s soothing presence was mocking. It seemed so close. That he could reach out and touch it. To calm the flames that consumed him. But it seemed to move away as he scrambled forward. He needed relief. 

  A noise, a voice, a chanting started growing from the distance.

  “Release, burn, return…”

  He couldn’t. It hurt too much. He didn’t want to.

  “Release, burn, return…”

  No, no he can’t.

  “Release, burn, return…”

  STOP!

 “Amos.”

 Giving a startled gasp, Amos woke, quickly scanning the area. He was first aware of how close Dominic was to him. Worry clearly seen on the penguin’s face. Next was the fact they were parked in a large lot. A large, grandly decorated hotel spotted in the distance. Amos almost winced seeing the night sky spread above them. 

 “Amos,” Dominic spoke up again, “Are you alright? Were you-”

 “‘M fine… Did...I sleep all day?”

 “Yeah, you did.” Dominic stood, stepping away from the owl. He wasn’t sure why Amos was nervous so suddenly. But he didn’t really want to be within hitting range if things turned ‘fight of flight’ with the owl. “I figured it would be best for us to rest for the night.”

 “Aye...are we makin’ good time?”

 “We are, but I need some sleep.  I’m going to get our bags. Take some time to wake up.” 

 Amos gave a grunt in response. Rubbing his forehead as Dominic headed to the trunk, the owl’s hand eventually traveled down and rested on his chest. Where the uncomfortable burning sensation was coming from. It was bearable, for the moment. No urges to release flames from his mouth. He was surprised he survived the majority of the day without that. But, he worried more about how much long he was going to last. 

 “You alright?”

 For the second time that night, Amos was startled to attention. He recovered quickly and stood. Actively avoiding making eye contact with the penguin. “I said ‘M fine. Give me my suitcase.” 

 “Come now Darling, you’re on this trip to relax. I can handle this.” Dominic took Amos’ moment of stunned confusion to lock the car and begin the treck up to the hotel. He smirked hearing familiar, anger filled footsteps rushing towards him.

 “‘M not a crippled, old bird. Ya don’t need ta mother hen me. Now, give me my bag.”

 “Amos, you’ve been bursting into flames. You’re clearly in pain and you needed a companion on this journey. I’m here to make sure you don’t push yourself. So, that means I will handle the bags.”

 “...Ya peck neck.”

 “Good counter argument.” And with that, Grooves let it drop. If Amos’ silence was anything to go by, he was done as well. 

 The owl’s grumpy demeanor slightly dropped as they entered the lobby. The interior reflected the exterior in it’s design. Pure white with ornately designed golden accents. The furniture matched the color scheme, Amos worrying he would trip over something if he wasn’t paying that close attention. The only pop of color came from the floral arrangements. Bundles of green with breaks of blue, yellow and pink flowers. 

 It was relatively empty, save for the workers and stragglers like themselves. 

 Amos hung back, deciding Dominic didn’t need to be crowded as he checked them in. He claimed a cushioned seat nearby, grunting as he attempted to get comfortable. A hand reached up to rub his chest again. The heat was still down, but there was that constant burning. Peck, he hated feeling like this. Old, exhausted, in pain. He couldn't wait for this to be over with. 

 Amos’ attention perked hearing a familiar laugh. Dominic was conversing with the hostess, both enjoying something the penguin had said. No doubt. With how charismatic, down right  charming the other was. Grooves could say anything that could just light up the room.

  U̬̒n̩̓l̨̯̳̓̈i̫̋k͎̰̥̍̌́e̼̿̈͜ ẙ̱͙̏ö͕̺͈́͘͠u̠͉̗͗̐.̳̬̙̇̊͗

 The owl coughed, frantically covering his mouth when some flames flickered out. He hunched over to hide himself away. He needed to get to the room. If he could make it to the shower, he could cool himself down. What was taking Grooves so long!

 “Amos?”

 He snapped back to attention. Dominic standing over him with a look of worry. Amos stood, stumbling slightly as he put weight on his legs.

 “Whoa, Amos, are you-”

 “Room, now.” The Conductor coughed out, a few flames licking against his cheeks.

 “I...right. Right, come on then.”

 It was a tense and quiet track to their room. Dominic kept a hand on Amos’ shoulder to direct the owl. As his focus remained on keeping the flames at bay. The attempted to appear ‘normal’ while quickly moving to the properly numbered room. As soon as they entered, Amos made a direct line towards the bathroom. 

 Ignoring the fancy decor, the owl climbed into the tub and turned the water onto the coldest setting. He let out a strangled gasp of relief as the water hit him. It was brief contact, however, as the liquid seemed to evaporate as soon as it made contact. There was a moment of shock when ice cubes suddenly slid into the tub, pooling at his feet. Only to look up and find Dominic holding the signature ice bucket, looking sheepish. 

 “I figured...ice would help.” Dominic offered with a weak shrug. 

 Amos nodded. He sat down, leaned back to allow water hitting his face and chest. “Think you could get me some more?”

 “Yeah...hang tight Darling.”

 Amos merely gave a wave. Letting himself lay out as best he could, he picked up a handful of ice to eat it. All turning to water as before it even touched his tongue. A small cough brought his attention back to Dominic. 

 “Do you want me to just pour it on you or…”

 “Give it.” Amos dumped the contents directly onto his chest. A small sigh of relief escaped him, eventually holding the bucket back out. “More.” 

 “Think you could ask politely?”

 “I’m in pain. Politeness is not my biggest concern.”

 Bucket returned to the penguin and left alone, Amos buried himself into the already collected ice. It was slowly lowering his raging temperature. The owl allowed himself to relax, falling asleep before Dominic returned with another round.