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aclowntiny · 1 year

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The Dancing Effect- Best Friend!Dino x Gender Neutral!Best Friend!Reader (College AU)

Word Count: 3,434 | Fluff, Best Friends to Lovers, College AU | Warnings: 💋 hehe

“Admit it, you love it.”

You turned to meet the eyes of your best friend, upturned in pleasure as he grinned at you, shaking your head in amusement as he ran a hand through his bleached-blonde hair.

He’d invited you to join a dance class with him, just a beginner one rather than the advanced stuff he did for his major, and out of need for an elective you’d agreed. The class was a mix of styles, ranging from swing and waltz to some fun Latin steps. Partners were assigned and you got given a guy named Jihoon who wasn’t exactly the tallest guy in class, but really shocked you with his strength when he effortlessly dipped you each salsa round. As you twirled around the smooth studio floor, you could see your own reflection passing the mirrored walls with a grin. There was no denying this was your most fun elective yet, even if you didn’t want to give Chan the satisfaction.

“I guess it is pretty fun,” you conceded mock-grudgingly, relenting into a grin at the pure joy radiating across Chan’s face.

He must have really wanted you to enjoy dancing. “What’s your favorite style so far?”

You swerved around a skateboarder, arcing around to return to Chan’s side. “I don’t know, there’s something cute about the swing,” you replied.

Your best friend nodded thoughtfully, squinting slightly at you as if in scrutiny. “I see.”

You just giggled. “What? Why, what’s your favorite?”

“I don’t know, the waltz is kind of romantic.”

“Oh yeah? Thinking of your partner, eh?” You couldn’t help but tease him. You didn’t know the girl he was paired with, but she seemed nice and no matter what his reaction would be funny.

“Ew,” Chan’s nose wrinkled, his face screwing up hilariously, “Minkyung is my friend’s sister! No way!”

You put your hands in the air, palms up. “All right, all right, just checking.”

“Yeah, she’s totally not my type.”

He always said that, but you’d yet to hear what was Chan’s type. If you didn’t know him so well, you’d just assume he wasn’t ready for a relationship, but he was a great guy, so probably just picky. Or looking for someone who could be as sassy as him, you reflected as the two of you continued teasing each other.

Chan’s club was hosting a little ‘fall bash’ outside of the student union. They were putting up one of those big shade tents with snack tables and setting up speakers, lights, and banners for some icebreakers and dancing. All students were welcome of course, so not majoring in dance didn’t exclude you in the slightest.

Free food and new company was all it took for you, a recent transfer to campus, to be sold, but the light show sounded like it was going to be bomb, too.

“Yeah, they’ll be dancing over us as we move! In fall colors of course almost like leaves! I tried to get them to actually make leaf-shaped formations, but they said-”

“Whoa, slow down there, Passion Boy.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

“What are you going to wear?”

You cocked a brow. “Why, are you supposed to dress up? I didn’t think this was prom.”

“Nah, it’s wear whatever you want.”

“Then frankly I have no clue. Maybe that orange sweater I got? That's fall-y."

"Orange sweater. Got it."

You weren't sure what Chan had meant until you showed up to the party and saw him dressed in a burnt orange blazer, which was buttoned smartly over a black turtleneck and matching jeans and boots, just a hint of fall color that perfectly matched yours.

"What is this, Sadie Hawkins?" You teased, tugging at Chan's sleeves.

Your best friend just shrugged, pinching a peach ring out of a nearby candy bowl and bringing it to his lips. "Thought it might be fun."

"That is a cool blazer. Is it comfortable?"

"Here," he unbuttoned it immediately, shrugging it off his shoulders, "try it on."

Chuckling, you removed your jacket, then pulled the sleeves on over yours, buttoning yourself in and inhaling a big whiff of Chan's scent. A unique mix of cologne and that faint, perpetual bit of dance sweat. Whether it was a good or bad smell you couldn't even tell at that point because you were so used to it, it just smelled like home to you. Ever since you guys had your first class a year ago, you were inseparable, sharing car space and visiting each other's dorms all the time. In all honesty, you were a bit surprised you could still smell it after this long, but the blazer seemed to hold an extra concentrated Chan essence you found yourself wanting to inhale just for the comfort.

"So," your best friend raised his eyebrows, "like it?"

With a nod, you answered "I do. I might just steal it."

He teasingly unbuttoned it and pulled it back off you, onto his own chest once more. "Alright, then no more. Go get your hand stamped, (y/n)."

"Get my what now?"

"If you wanna dance, you have to sign the waiver and get a stamp. Campus liability and all that."

"Right, in case our swing dance rager gets us grievously wounded," you rolled your eyes, making your way to the table where two guys stood, one on either side.

One of them, a guy in white with black hair and a sweet smile, introduced himself as Soonyoung, gawking when you signed in as (y/n) because 'oh my gosh you're the friend Chan is always talking about'. He gave you an incredibly pleased grin as he pressed the stamp against the back of your hand, leaving a little orange cartoon of a fall leaf on it.

"Do you have any other stamps?" The other guy, a tall, trenchcoat-and-sweater-clad figure with sort of long hair, asked.

"We don't and you know it," Soonyoung shook his head, nudging him teasingly, "you international students think you can come in and tell us what to do, huh?"

Tall Guy put his hand over his heart in mock offense, and Soonyoung reached over to quickly stamp it, sticking his tongue out as he did so.

"You're an international student? Where are you from?"

"China," he answered with a wide smile, looking directly at you but batting at Soonyoung blindly from behind with one hand, "Guangdong, to be a little more specific. My name is Junhui."

"See, I may be the (y/n) Soonyoung heard about, but I've heard a ton about your dancing skills from Chan! He says he wants to go to China, you and the other guy are so good! What's the other guy's name?"

Junhui waved off your compliment. "Minghao is a way better dancer than me. And if you want dirt on Chan, he's the one you want to go to," he added with a devilish little smile.

"I'll remember that," you reply, mirroring his expression before wandering back over to the snack tables to grab a few of your favorite candies, squinting a bit in the dim purplish ambience and nighttime air to find them.

Your classmate Mia was at the snack table too, gingerly grabbing some chips as you stuffed your own face, so you busied yourself with asking how her math test went until a lilting, old-fashioned tune poured forth from the speakers.

You gasped. "Time to dance!" Tossing your candy wrappers, you shuffled excitedly over to the wide open area of student zone concrete that was the dance floor.

Being members of the hosting dance club, Junhui and Soonyoung each grabbed you for a dance first, and wow, was that two different experiences. Junhui led you so smoothly, fluidly, and gently you felt like you were being glided on clouds, dancing just as well as your instructor did. You almost felt like you were back in class learning the best pace for each triple-step. He was so nice about it, you forgot to feel embarrassed at your own novice skills. Following that, Soonyoung was a whirlwind, twirling you exuberantly and performing crossovers and turns you'd never even seen before; your feet could barely keep up, but you were laughing the whole time. Mia asked you to teach her what everyone was doing, so you did your best to lead her despite usually performing in class as a follower, clumsily giving her a lesson before taking her for a turn around the spotlight-dotted dance floor, the sidewalk a glittering, wonderful mess of dancing duos and even singles doing their own thing.

You stopped to drape your jacket on a chair, grab a soda and recharge, and that was when you saw Chan. He was doing the same thing as you, catching your eyes with a smile and nod of his head. His blonde hair was thoroughly tousled by the wind now, all the fast steps of the last song clearly being taken as a challenge.

A new song started a few sips later. "Come on, it's my turn now!"

The moment you obliged, Chan took your hand. Close as you guys were, you'd never really held hands before. It surprised you how delicately your best friend intertwined your fingers, taking your hand slowly as if reaching for something behind a door that might close. He held your hand like that, gently connected, until you reached the floor, where he let go, sliding his right hand down to your waist as you rested your left on his shoulder. He joined your other hands, extending them out a bit before glancing off, clearly mentally counting the song's pace.

Chan swayed you so gently, leading you carefully into each step of the turn. Much more warning than Soonyoung, and a little more care somehow than even Junhui, who moved like it was second nature to him. Chan seemed to take his time, savoring every motion and smiling widely at the joy you got from each turn. When you went to each side and even as you stepped back, his eyes never left yours. Maybe it was the spotlights dancing over the makeshift floor, but they looked extra sparkly tonight. Or maybe it was what you called the dancing effect. Jihoon was always cuter to you when he was dipping you.

That had to be it, but you'd never looked into Chan's eyes so deeply, so intently before. You knew if you looked at your feet, gazed too long at another pair dancing, you'd lose time, falter in your footing, so your best friend's gaze was your anchor, the center of your every motion. There was no reason to look away, especially when the twinkling green and white lights reflected so well in them. You'd never felt the warmth of Chan's hand against your waist either, the way he softly pulled you closer to his chest after you strayed too far from a twirl. It was getting harder to convince yourself that your heart was just beating faster from the exertion of dancing to six songs in a row.

"Are you glad you came?" He asked in between songs, tilting his head and keeping you swaying even in the momentary silence, as if you'd run away from him otherwise.

What a time to ask that question. "Yeah," you breathed, giving a simple nod, "this is really fun."

"I was hoping you'd enjoy it," he replied. No teasing for once- you could tell by his tone how genuine he was being.

You felt his hand flex ever-so-slightly above your waist, the dancing effect sending your heart jumping. "Of course."

They'd snuck some Latin songs in before the night was over, and you were beyond frustrated upon your brief partner switch that Jihoon was no longer all that cute to you, even when he dipped you.

"Well, I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow."

"Whoa, whoa," Chan jogged to keep up with you, "oh no you don't, I'm walking you back."

"I know my way back to the dorms, Chan," you replied with a light laugh. The glittering spotlights had been once again replaced with almost eerie mystic purple ambiance, casting shadows on the concerned frown crossing Chan's defined features.

"Yeah, but it's dark. I'm getting you home safe."

There was that flutter again- he'd done that before, though, countless times. You'd walked between your buildings more times than you'd needed to keep record of. This was nothing new.

You relented anyway. "Alright, yeah, thanks. You're right."

"I know I am. Campus can be dangerous. You need someone to keep you safe."

"Oh, my knight in shining armor," you teased, giving his shoulder a little push and drinking in the smile you received in response. Why wasn't the dancing effect wearing off?

"Come on, let's go."

"The guys are still tearing down."

"Eh," Chan waved a hand, "They can fold a few tables without me. Right, guys?" He called a little bit louder.

Soonyoung gave him a thumbs-up. Junhui whooped, and the graceful guy you'd come to know as Minghao just remarked that no matter what they said he'd go anyway before cracking a mischievous smile.

"See? On we go."

Leaves drifted through the night air, carried in a dance of their own as cold air blew. Instinctively you wrapped your arms around your middle as you reminisced on the night's success.

"Here, you need this more than I do. Besides," Chan smirked as he removed his blazer again, "you liked it so much the first time."

You'd thought nothing of wearing his blazer the first time. Why did it make you so happy now? Maybe it was the way he draped it onto you himself, making you feel like a 1950s starlet or something. Maybe it was the way that as you took nearly-stinging breaths of cold air, still inhaling harder from exertion, you picked up that homey smell again, this time mixed with a skosh more dance sweat, but you didn't mind, knowing you had the same and Chan wouldn't judge you for it.

When you reached the door of your building, slowly drawing your key card from your wallet, you gave him his blazer back, hands dropping to your sides. "Well, thanks for everything. You guys really should have more parties. This was a lot of fun."

"Are you kidding? Thanks for coming! This was a success, so I'm sure we'll have an even bigger one next time!"

Your eyes didn't leave his. "That's the spirit."

"Always. Hey, well, good night."

"Good night," you breathed back as Chan pulled you into your customary goodbye hug.

You weren't sure if it was you, him, or just straight-up your imagination that held on a bit longer this time. When you separated, he kept a hand on your shoulder for just a second, leaning in a tiny bit and looking at you with those furrowed, scrutinizing brows, then just as quickly he pulled back away, scurrying off. You couldn't help feeling a very hard lightning bolt of disappointment zap you through the clouds of confusion.

"Guess I'd better go help. I'll see you tomorrow, though!" He ran off, waving like nothing different had happened.

You waved slowly, resisting the urge to lightly slap some sense into your head.

You were early to dance class that afternoon, feeling a strange anticipation of the whole event. You could tell as soon as you walked in, though, that you were going to have a hard time keeping your eyes off of Minkyung and how she got danced with, though.

That was the root of your anticipation. Ever since that dang party, that cursed blazer and the way Chan held you, it was like every muscle in your body ached to see him again. Despite all the time you'd gotten with him in the past year. It was like that had vanished completely, leaving a void more massive than you'd have ever guessed behind. Like even though you'd loved every minute of hanging out, you'd somehow took it all for granted.

"I'm surprised Chan hasn't come barreling in with your jacket yet," a voice commented at your side.

Turning around, you were met with Minghao.

"My jacket?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you left it behind at the party and Chan kept saying how he was going to have to remember to bring it back to you after letting you forget it. Seemed like he felt a little bad." That smile again. For all his calm, Minghao had a little streak of fire in him, it seemed.

And, if you remembered Junhui correctly, dirt on Chan. "Junhui said you know Chan pretty well, huh?"

That earned you a full-on grin. "Well, he's not my best friend or anything, but he opens up to me. Something you wanted to know?"

"No, Junhui just told me about you having something I could tease him about is all," you chuckled.

"Please don't." The slender dance major still sounded faintly amused, but something in his tone softened.

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Don't tease him about it, ok?"

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"He really likes you, ok? So don't give him a hard time. You should know better than anyone he's more sensitive than he gives off."

"He what?" You didn't mean to raise your voice as much as he did, especially with the reverb in the mostly-empty dance practice room, but you could barely hear anything over the roar of your chest's somersaults.

"Oh, wait, Junhui didn't spill the beans?"

So that was why no one was Chan's type? Your jaw dropped, but before you could say anything, the door swung open, revealing the figure of your bleach-blonde friend stepping into the fluorescent light, casually dropping his backpack against the wall and waving brightly at you.

You, for your part, waved back, well aware that you were probably smiling like an idiot. The void in your chest filled so fast, it was like it barely existed in the first place.

After class, you guys grabbed your stuff, presumably to take your usual walk to the student union, but Chan stopped you. "You left your-"

"Jacket, yeah, I realized this morning."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Don't be," you chuckled, "I have more than one, you know."

"Yeah, but I like this one, so I wanted to make sure you had it. It's your old one. I didn't wash it, so it still has that (y/n) smell," he commented with a sheepish smile.

So you had a smell too. Something about that filled you with nearly as big a wave of confidence as Minghao's words, which had your chest soaring all through class and even Jihoon asking you why you were so giddy. You just told him you'd gotten good news. Either way, your heart pounded as you threw caution to the wind. No more taking anything for granted.

"That one's your favorite, huh? Tell you what," you quipped, stepping close enough to take the jacket out of Chan's hands and drape it over his shoulders, "you keep it then and I will steal your blazer."

"Why would I do that?" He asked, gulping at the way your hands smoothed the jacket over his chest.

"Call it something in the dance floor air," you said, giving him one last look in the eyes before your hands found your jacket's collar, tugging it forward until Chan fell into you, his lips meeting yours.

The moment you connected, Chan kissed back, hands wrapping around your waist far tighter than they had last night as yours slid up his chest and around his neck. You moved faster, then he did, and you both kept at it, challenging each other until you both needed air. As you pulled away, though, Chan caught the back of your head in his hand, pulling you back into him so your foreheads rested together.

"Man, if all it took was dancing with you, I'd have made Jihoon switch partners with me on day one."

"Minghao also may or may not have snitched on you."

"I'm going to fight him."

"But it was mostly the dancing."

"Charmed you, didn't I?"

"Something like that."

"What can I say," Chan commented, flicking forward just long enough to ghost his lips over yours, "I know you so well."

You smiled and shook your head, which fell onto his shoulder, bringing that homey smell up into your head with the fall breeze once more. For once, you didn't feel like sassing Chan back, your chest-void now overflowing with more serotonin than you knew what to do with. "That you do."

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #dino #dino x reader #dino x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #college au #best friends to lovers #fluff

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msweebyness · 1 year

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Mirrorverse Snippet- Roaring with Pride

So this is a random thing I thought of while talking with Sparky and got the urge to type out! Just something that takes place at some point. Who knows, maybe I’ll do more of these, maybe Sparky or Artzy will, but for now, here’s this! Enjoy!

(@imsparky2002 @artzychic27)

Having some time to kill while Fairy GodBro fired up his magic bubble and they worked out who would go next, the heroes and villains had retreated to their respective groups on opposite sides of the room.

On the left side, inhabited by the villains, a small competition appeared to be taking place.

“Decent effort, Ismael! But try and beat this!”, Alix Khan taunted, before she reared back and released a mighty roar that rattled the furniture. Her villainous classmates shrieked with laughter and cheered her as IsmaScar’s group urged him not to sit back and take it.

With an amused laugh, the king of the savannah stepped up to the plate.

“Nice little snarl there, Al. But this is how it’s done!”, before he released a thundering roar of his own that made the floors tremble. His classmates began to chant his name while Alix Khan and her group rolled their eyes in good humor.

The villains couldn’t help but feel a bit vindicated by the annoyed looks they were getting from their heroic counterparts for all the noise they were making. Suddenly, Alix Khan was struck with a wickedly fun idea!

“Yo, princess!”, the tiger hybrid barked, wadding up a sheet of paper and lobbing it in the direction of the lone hybrid amongst the heroic crowd. She smirked at the livid glint that answered her in Miremba’s feline brown eyes.

“Why don’t you show us what you got?”, the Queen of the Jungle went on to challenge, her wicked companions quickly joining the crusade and egging the heroic hybrid on with mocking jeers and comments.

With a shake of her head, Miremba rose in a dignified manner from her seat and approached the villains confidently, an air of serene superiority that, if the villains were honest, pissed them off a bit.

“Just for the sake of honor, I feel that I should ask: are you really sure you want me to do this?”, the noble big cat asked the villainous hybrids, her eyebrow quirked.

“Oh, don’t worry for our sake, your highness!”, IsmaScar sneered, backed by the snickers of his fellow evildoers, “By all means, don’t hold back!”

With a heavy sigh, the lioness relented.

“Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Nino?”

The Fairy GodBro suddenly snapped to attention, and after his girlfriend whispered the situation to him, whipped out his wand. The villains watched with amused confusion as he created what appeared to be a soundproof bubble around himself and the rest of the heroes, before giving Miremba a thumbs up. With a smirk, the princess of the Pride Lands turned back to the assembled villains.

“Got this from my mom.”, before they took a deep breath and…

It was roughly half a minute before the entire fifth floor of the school stopped shaking. The only noise that could be heard by around half the inhabitants of the room was the ringing of their own ears. Hair was blown back (or in the case of the hybrid’s counterpart, blown out) in nearly a straight line and eyes were wide as saucers. Any unsecured papers or items of small to average size had been blown asunder around the floor. After roughly another half-minute, the dastardly teens’ wits began to return to them.

Carried by the rush she was currently high on, the dark-haired lion hybrid allowed herself a small gloating smile, “I believe I win.”

“Alright.”, Doctor Cabello conceded hoarsely as they returned their veiled hat to its place atop their dark curls, “Point Heroes.”

“WHAT?!”

#miraculous ladybug #class of heroes #class of villainy #mirrorverse #disneyau #alix kubdel #Ismael prisk #mireille caquet #Simba #scar #Shere Khan

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breedaboyd · 9 months

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The Club Excursion ~ Klaber

(Gif by me.)

Prompt: Klaber watches Wolff dance at a club or party. Whether Wolff's good or bad at it, Klaber loves watching Wolff's body move and asks Wolff to dance for them privately.

Pairing: Eli Klaber ☓ Stephan Wolff.

Word Count: 4.2k+

CW: Face-sitting, hurt/comfort, lap-dances, oral sex, vaginal sex.

The night is alive with pulsing rhythms as Klaber, Wolff, Hauke and Cyrus step into the club. The bass thumps through the floor, sending tremors up their legs as they make their way to the bar.

It's been a long slog in Berlin but tomorrow they'd finally be heading back to the US and Klaber had insisted on one last hurrah before heading home and, strangely enough, Cyrus had agreed. Finally, something they agreed on.

Multicoloured lights sweep through the dimly-lit room, casting shifting patterns on the dance floor packed with enthusiastic club-goers.

Cyrus, ever the instigator, is quick to grab Hauke's hand and tug him toward the dancefloor, their flirtatious banter mixing with the music as they disappear into the throng of bodies. (Well, Cyrus disappears. Hauke not so much.) Klaber grins, watching his teammates twirl and sway to the infectious beat, but his attention is on Wolff. He sidles up to the older man, who's nursing a drink at the bar and looking painfully out of place here.

"Come on, Herr Doktor! It's a night to cut loose, enjoy yourself." Klaber says with a nudge and Wolff raises an eyebrow, his blue eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement.

"I'll need a bit more liquid courage before I hit the dancefloor, Klaber. I'm not twenty-five anymore." He replies, taking a sip of horribly cheap whiskey. Klaber chuckles and orders a couple of shots from the bartender, sliding one to Wolff.

"To a fun night?" He offers and Wolff nods, clinking his glass against Klaber's, and they both down their shots. The burning warmth spreads through their bodies, and Klaber can see Wolff's reluctance starting to fade.

A couple more rounds of shots follow, and Klaber keeps up the banter, teasing and cajoling Wolff until he finally relents.

"Alright, alright." Wolff concedes with a laugh. "Let's see what this dancefloor is all about." Klaber's grin turns positively feral and he tugs the older man to his feet and toward the gyrating mass of bodies. Wolff shuffles behind the younger man, slightly unsteady on his feet. They squeeze into a clear spot and start swaying to the music. Wolff lets the rhythm envelop him and starts moving his hips with a little more coordination. Klaber watches him; this tall, gangly, white-haired old man, unsurprisingly, can't dance for shit. But damn if he's not trying.

He's all skinny limbs and angular joints, too soft in some places, sharp edges in others and that doesn't pair well with his unsynchronised, offbeat moves. He looks utterly ridiculous and for a moment Klaber just stands there, watching, captivated because, ridiculous or not, Stephan Wolff is really fucking cute when he's having fun. With every beat that passes, Klaber feels this slight ache blooming inside his chest. It's the first time he's seen the stoic, reticent doctor so at ease, so playful and young.

"What are you looking at, Liebchen?" Wolff asks, giving the younger man a grin so wide it hurts to look at. Shaking his head fondly, Klaber closes the distance between them.

"A complete disaster." He replies as he moves in close, laying his hands on the medic's hips. Wolff laughs, grabbing onto the younger man's biceps.

"I know. There's a reason I need a drink before I step anywhere near a dancefloor." He says, leaning down slightly to whisper in the blonde's ear. "You know, I always pinned you for the type that could dance, Liebchen. All that..." He runs his hands across Klaber's body, across his broad shoulders, down his chest. "...lean muscle, all that agility and strength." Klaber's briefly taken aback. It's so nice, having Wolff's hands on him, but he's not used to it in public. Usually, they have to be so careful in public, not even able to hold hands, but here they are, in the middle of a crowd, and Wolff's feeling him up like crazy with hardly a glance from the other club-goes. It's official; Klaber loves German clubs.

"They have some good clubs in Kentucky. Maybe not so lively as this one but..." He says, wrapping his arms around the German's waist and pressing closer. "Could teach you. Give you a taste of American nightlife."

"If this is a taste of it, maybe I'd better pass." Wolff laughs, a little huskier than before. Klaber replies and Wolff slides his hand to the back of Klaber's head, scratching the short hairs at his nape before gripping firmly and pulling him in for a sudden, rough kiss. Klaber's anxiety suddenly skyrockets as he glances around but, again, nobody seems to care that two men are kissing each other in the middle of the dancefloor. He melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the medic. When the kiss finally breaks, they rest their foreheads together and just sway, riding the shared electricity coursing between their bodies. The beat changes, suddenly, and Wolff laughs, backing out of Klaber's arms. "Think I'm done. I'm getting too old for this." He chuckles as he passes a hand through Klaber's thick blonde hair.

"Then, maybe you could...give me a private dance, when we get back to our room?" Klaber asks, sounding more shy than he wants to. Wolff grins, raising his eyebrows and pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"Maybe." He replies. "I'm going to freshen up. Then I'll meet you back at the bar and we can go from there?" He brings a hand to the blonde's stubbly jaw and rubs his thumb along his chin. Klaber nods, smiles at the touch and leans up, giving the older man another, gentler kiss. Wolff smiles back, squeezing his hand before heading toward the washroom.

Unsurprisingly, the bathroom is dingy and damp and, when Wolff steps in, he finds Hauke braced against the sinks, Cyrus on his knees, cock down his throat.

"Cyrus. Hauke." He makes his way over to the sink, turning on the faucet and splashing his face. The younger man pulls off and wipes his mouth.

"Hey, Stephan. How is it out there?" Cyrus asks, breath coming thick and fast, as he works the larger man with his hands. "Didn't think this was your kinda scene."

"It's not." Wolff says as he wipes his face with the sleeve of his wrinkled dress shirt. "It's too busy, too loud, crowded." He says as he turns, leaning his back against the counter.

"Too many people for you, Herr Doktor?" Hauke chuckles as he pushes Cyrus's head back down. The smaller man whines wordlessly at Hauke heavy-handedness and Wolff smiles at the two younger men. He's grown very attached to the both of them and they've grown close, if that wasn't obvious with how blasé he is about this whole bathroom-blowjob situation. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Mhm. It was fun, actually, dancing, although apparently I'm not too good at it anymore." He says, watching Cyrus's enthusiastic ministrations. "Du solltest dir besser nicht weh tun, Langstrom. Ich würde es hassen Ihre aufgerissene Kehle im Hotel behandeln zu müssen.¹" He says and Cyrus just moans, sending hot shivers up Hauke's thighs. "I'll leave you two to it." The doctor says, giving Hauke a pat on the bicep as he leaves the bathroom.

Klaber's stood at the bar when Wolff comes back.

"Ready to head off?" The medic asks and Klaber nods, slipping his arm around Wolff's waist as they head for the exit.

Once outside, Klaber takes Wolff's hand, lacing their fingers together as they make their way back to their hotel.

When they get back to their hotel, Klaber takes a seat on the edge of the bed. He likes this place. For a budget motel, it's nice and the beds are comfortable and, now he thinks about it, this place will be a lot nicer now that he's had a couple drinks and he's got Wolff all to himself. Klaber sits still as the German locks the door, sets down his things and kneels down to take off his shoes.

"So... Uh... How about that dance?" Klaber pipes up with and Wolff smiles at him.

"Do you really want a dance, Liebchen?" The doctor chuckles as he stands, loosening his tie.

"Maybe...just a little?" He asks and Wolff wanders to stand between his legs, running a hand along the blonde's jaw.

"Alright. Let me turn on the radio and see if I can't find something I fancy." He pecks Klaber on the lips and heads for the old analog radio sitting on the nightstand and flips the dials. It takes a couple of moments before he settles on a station, the song slow, rhythmic, sultry. He turns back to Klaber and pulls the ribbon from his hair, letting thick, white locks splay across his shoulders. He pulls his glasses off and sets them aside. "Lap dance? Private, exclusive, just for you. What do you think, Liebchen?" Wolff chuckles as he straightens. "But no touching without my say-so." Klaber gets a good look at the medic's body. He's always so long and lean and his tall frame almost serpentine. He stalks toward the younger man, popping open the first few buttons of his dress shirt. Klaber watches him, biting the inside of his cheek.

He's completely transfixed as Wolff moves, bending and swaying to the music and he slowly strips out of his clothes, slowly pulling off his dress shirt to reveal the soft, plush flesh of his swollen chest. God, Klaber just loves Wolff's tits, how they add a kind of softness to his otherwise angular body. The medic takes his time, settling in the blonde's lap. Klaber can't touch, not without being scolded and Wolff wriggles and grinds against him, hips pulsing in his lap in a way that's far too torturous for how he feels right now. The tempo of the music is slow, hypnotic, undulating and, God, Wolff looks positively sinful. They haven't even *done* anything yet. The medic swivels in the blonde's lap, feet planted on the floor as he grinds back against the younger man.

"O-Oh, fuck... Herr Doktor... You're so...so fucking sexy..." Klaber grunts, face flushed and Wolff just chuckles. Just when they've found a rhythm, when Wolff is grinding back against him in a way that has Klaber falling in love with the medic all over again, he pulls off. He turns back toward the blonde, hand skimming along the thin trail of light hair below his navel, hand finally landing on his button-fly. Klaber bites his lower lip as he watches Wolff slowly, teasingly, unbutton his slacks, sliding the heavy fabric off his slim hips and revealing a pair of tight boxer-briefs. The medic's already so wet, slick oozing out and dampening the crotch of his underwear. But Klaber sits and waits, like a good, little mutt.

And then Wolff is back in his lap, ass planted in the blonde's lap as he grinds back against him. They find a rhythm, slow and grinding, as Wolff starts playing with his hardening clit through his underwear. Klaber groans as he watches, Wolff's hips, rolling back and forth, as he slides his underwear down over his hips and down those slim, creamy thighs, now completely bare to the blonde's eyes. Klaber wishes he could grab the medic, turn him around and bury his face in his cunt, licking and sucking until the older man can hardly remember his name. It's got Klaber licking his lips because, fuck, he loves eating Wolff out; listening to his husky voice quaver, the breathy moans and stuttered expletives spilling from his mouth. Klaber licks his lips, feeling his cock throb at the thought of Wolff's wet cunt smeared across his cheeks.

"Alright, Liebchen, you can touch."

Klaber exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding and pulls the older man into his lap. It takes a couple of tugs but soon he's got the medic straddling his head, Wolff's hot, slick pussy right above his face, dripping onto his chin. Klaber, overcome with his arousal, reaches out with his tongue, licking a wide, sloppy stripe between those plump lips. Wolff shudders and slumps forward, resting his palms against Klaber's hips as he spreads his thighs, giving the younger man more room to work.

"God, Liebchen...so desperate for it..." Wolff pants as he rubs his cunt against the flat of Klaber's warm, wet tongue. He blonde lifts his jaw a little to swirl his tongue around the medic's clit, feeling it twitch at the attention and Wolff gasps. "Ahh! That's it... Good dog..." Klaber brings his hands up to grip Wolff's soft, milky thighs as he continues to lap and suck at the wet cunt hovering over his face. For a second, the medic goes cross-eyed as his head lolls forward. Fuck, he forgot how good Klaber was with his mouth. The blonde pushes his tongue up against his throbbing clit, one hand sliding up to slide his middle finger into Wolff's slick, ready hole, relishing the hot walls wrapped around his fingers. He curls the digits, digging up and twisting in just the right way to make the medic gasp and moan and the way his long, lithe thighs tense up around the younger man's ears is so amazingly hot.

It's not long before Wolff's properly riding his face. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, the medic groans as he thrusts down, clit grinding against the flat of Klaber's tongue, cunt filled up by those long, strong fingers. Klaber loves it. This is his dream. He's such a dog and he absolutely adores it, laid on his back, happily eating the older man out. Hell, even his own pleasure is pushed to the side as he wraps his lips around the older man's clit and sucks, curling his fingers against the smooth, hot inside of his hole. Wolff whines, thighs trembling, face flushed as Klaber's ministrations have him trembling on the edge.

His jaw goes slack, eyes wide and unseeing as he cums, hard, gripping Klaber's head between his thighs. His mouth falls open as he rocks back and forth on Klaber's slick, wet face, panting through clenched teeth as he fucks himself through his release. Klaber works him through the last of it, looking a little dazed but incredibly pleased with himself as he licks his lips, Wolff's slick smeared across his mouth, nose and chin. "That's it... That's a good boy... That's perfect..." Wolff pants as straightens and falls back into the pillows, afterglow claiming every inch of his heaving, thrumming body.

Klaber sits up and untucks his shirt, wiping his face off with the hem and undoing the first couple of buttons, sweat glistening on his forehead and lightly stubbled neck. He stands and turns, loosening his own tie as he rakes his eyes over the medic, watching the older man stretch and purr like a large cat.

"That was perfect, Liebchen. Don't know how you're able to...do that." The medic sighs happily and, to that, Klaber only smiles as he pulls off his tie and unbuttons his shirt the rest of the way. He toes off his shoes and Wolff lifts himself up onto his elbows, pale blue eyes trailing along the expanse of pale skin visible from Klaber's open collar. His body is soft but sturdy. His chest is probably just as big as Wolff's but it's soft with a thin layer of fat instead of mammary glands and the medic loves that softness. His belly is soft too, a little chubby but not too much. Klaber drinks in the older man as he shrugs off his shirt, undoes his fly and finally lets his very obvious erection hang thick and heavy between his legs. The blonde is perfect and Wolff just wants to dig his fingers in, work the flesh, feel him moan against him. And he can't wait anymore. "You're so gorgeous, Liebchen." The medic says as Klaber strips off his pants and underwear, leaving him gloriously naked as he mounts the bed, crawling toward the older man.

"You're actually a pretty good dancer, Herr Doktor, but I don't think you could've pulled that one out in the club." The blonde says with a small grin as he slides a hand up the medic's side, admiring the softness of the skin. Wolff grins and moves further back, allowing the younger man to stretch out on top of him, caging him in. "Mm... How do you want me?" Klaber murmurs as he slots his hips between the medic's thighs, hands on his hips, thumbs caressing the sharp, jutting bones. Wolff reaches up and drags his nails down the back of Klaber's neck, loving the goosebumps rising under his fingertips. He gets a hand in the back of the younger man's hair and pulls him down for a rough kiss. Klaber responds eagerly, deepening the kiss and the medic takes a moment to just sink into it, allowing himself to completely lose himself in his dog's touch. Klaber is so hot and needy, skin warm and solid and so fucking good under his fingers. He gets a hand between them and wraps his long fingers around the younger man's flushed, leaking erection and Klaber moans against his lips, pre-cum oozing onto the medic's belly.

"Like this, like this is fine. I just want to feel you inside me, Liebchen." Wolff whispers, biting his lower lip and Klaber moans softly, lining himself up. He circles the medic's swollen clit with the tip of his cock, drawing a soft groan from the man beneath him. He keeps teasing, keeps dragging his cock against the wet folds of Wolff's cunt as the older man pushes his hips against him, trying to make him slide in and fill him up. "D-Don't tease, Liebchen..."

Finally, he pushes in, eyes squeezing shut as he's enveloped in the older man's tight, wet heat.

"Goddamn..." He huffs out, fingers curling into the sheets either side of the medic's chest. Wolff's thighs tense around his hips and that coupled with the older man's hot, breathy moan right next to his ear makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "You feel so good, Herr Doktor... So hot... Do I...feel good too?" Klaber tries not to whimper, feeling almost overcome by the older man's cunt clamping around him.

"Mhm... You're perfect, Liebchen. Now...enough talking... Please... Please, just start moving..." Wolff breathes, arms wrapping around the blonde's neck, nails digging into his spine as Klaber starts rocking his hips forward. Wolff's gasps with every thrust, urging the blonde to give him more, harder, faster, and Klaber is all too willing to comply, angling his hips so he can drive into the medic hard and deep. The doctor moans, brow furrowed, slick dripping and pooling on the sheets.

Klaber's being such a good dog, giving him everything he wants and it just makes Wolff so hungry for his puppy's hot cum, flooding his pussy, filling him up to the brim. "O-Oh, God... Just like that... Good dog... S-So good..." He pants out, digging his heel into the small of Klaber's back. The blonde grunts at the praise, the heel of Wolff's foot urging him deeper. He tucks his face into the crook of the medic's neck, breathing in the sweet smell of his skin as he braces himself. This angle means he can go as fast as possible, hips pistoning as he pounds into the medic's soft, willing body.

"Oh, fuck! H-Herr Doktor..." The pressure starts mounting and the young blonde has to grit his teeth to try and hang on a little longer because, fuck, he doesn't want this to be over so soon but the friction and pressure have him growing hot, both inside and out, and he can feel his control slipping. "Y-You feel s-so good..." He slows the pace a little, savouring the wet glide of the medic's velvety walls, sucking, clenching and keeping him on the edge.

"That's it, pup. Such a good dog..." Wolff pants out, thighs shaking, as Klaber reaches up, grabbing at the older man's chest. His fingertips dig into the medic's small, spongy breasts, soft and squishy and perfect. Klaber loves them. They're perky and just the right size for his big hands. Wolff squirms under the attention, the mix of a little pain with a lot of pleasure.

"Herr Doktor... I love your body... Fuck, it's so soft..." The blonde moans, grinding his hips in circles. Wolff moans under him, thighs squeezing his hips so tight as they get lost in the steady tempo of the creaky mattress, their stuttered, breathy moans mingling with the slick, filthy sounds from between the older man's thighs. "St-Stephan... You're so...so... F-Fuck, I'm..." Klaber whispers, thumbing one of Wolff's hard nipples. His eyes are half-lidded, looking almost delirious as he slams his hips down against the older man. God, it feels so good, having this beautiful man under him, mewling and moaning, letting him fuck him as good and as long as he wants. Klaber leans down, taking one of the medic's pebbled nipples between his lips and the added sensation has Wolff writhing and panting under him, mouth agape.

"Liebchen! Oh, God... Keep going... Don't stop, don't you dare stop..." Wolff groans, hands smoothing up the back of Klaber's head, tousling his short, thick hair as he urges the younger man on. The pace grows rapid, thrusts turning staccato, as Klaber sucks and tongues at the older man's chest. They grow feral, desperate, hips slapping together as the creaking bed protest their every move. "Klaber... Sweet pup... Need to cum... Need you to make me cum..." He moans, thighs trembling, sweat dripping down his temples. The blonde's eyes roll back at that, hands sliding back down the medic's sides and gripping at his wide, strong hips. He tilts the older man's hips up so his cock hits that perfect spot inside him and that's all it takes.

Wolff arches under the younger man, letting out a long, whimpering moan as he throws his head back, pleasure coursing through him, body wracked with shivers. His grip on Klaber becomes painful as the blonde thrusts frantically, on the edge himself, and, finally, with a muffled groan and a shudder, the younger man reaches his limit. He gives a three more deep, punishing thrusts as he spills, driving himself deep, fucking his cum up into the medic's waiting body. "... That was...perfect, Liebchen... Just perfect..." Klaber's smiling breathlessly when his arms finally give out and he collapses on top of the older man, resting his cheek on Wolff's sweaty chest. He's still panting, exhausted but sated, as he shifts his hips, his softening cock slipping free from Wolff's body...

They stay still for a little while, panting and sighing and just basking in each other.

"Can't wait to go home tomorrow." Klaber says and Wolff chuckles breathlessly, hands moving to card his fingers through the younger man's sweat-damp hair. "Hey, Herr Doktor...?"

"Mm?"

"Fancy joining the mile-high club tomorrow?" He laughs, raising his head to flash the older man a cheeky grin. Wolff's smile melts, giving way to a tired, almost resigned look.

"... Don't you ever get tired of me, Liebchen? My body? Aren't you bored of me? Can't imagine what you see in an old man like me." Wolff says with a sigh as he slips from Klaber's grasp.

"Herr Doktor?"

"Just maybe don't get too used to this. I'm almost fifty-three, Klaber. Surely you can get someone better... Someone younger, someone more...suited for you." Wolff goes on, not quite finished punishing himself for enjoying the younger man's company. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, staring out of the window, into the night. "I wouldn't think less of you, Liebchen. I would completely understand if you found yourself some pretty, young thing—"

"Do you really not see it, Stephan?" He shakes his head as he runs a hand down the curve of the older man's hip. Klaber shuffles beside the older man, laying up to look at him, cupping his jaw gently. "You're— But— No, God, how could I ever get sick of you? Why would I want anyone else?" He thumbs Wolff's cheek, brow creased in worry. He's so keen to wipe that sad, pained look from the medic's weathered features. "Can't you tell? Can't you feel it? I can't stand being without you. Fuck, you're such a dumbass sometimes." He sighs softly, gently stroking long, white locks from Wolff's face. Gently, he cups the back of the older man's head, pulling him down to kiss him, passionate but tender. Wolff responds just as lovingly, tangling his fingers in the younger man's hair, breathing in the scent of him.

"How on Earth did I find someone like you, Liebchen?" Wolff whispers with a sad smile as the kiss breaks and Klaber just presses their foreheads together.

"Chalk it up to luck, I guess." He adds with a grin, kissing the medic's forehead and sliding a hand down his back. "Just don't go scarin' me like that, alright?" He smirks and Wolff chuckles, leaning down to kiss the younger man, hands moving to cup his cheek and run through the shorter hair at his nape.

"That's not a promise I can keep, mutt." He whispers against Klaber's lips. "But, if you get tired of me, just put me in the ground, okay, Liebchen?"

"Never."

Translations:

¹ "You better not hurt yourself, Langstrom. I'd hate to have to treat your lacerated throat at the hotel."

#character: klaber #source: indiana jones #misc: chariot writes #type: oc

3 notes · View notes

macknnons · 2 years

Note

and bc why not send a second

16 for 1934 <3

16. At your lover's complaining, rubbing a spot where they ache, smiling as they lean into your touch and melt at both the touch and warmth.

Monday.

Thom’s sitting on the counter of Brendan’s kitchen, answering some text messages while he waits for Brendan to be done with their dinner, when he notices how all over the place Brendan is.

“What’s up with you?”

Brendan turns around, face the one of someone who just got caught. “Hm?”

“You’re being all twitchy,” Thom notes. “Well, worse than usual anyway.”

Brendan huffs but concedes: “My neck’s bothering me, I think.”

Thom lets his legs dangle in front of him, considering. For how exuberant Brendan can be in the daily, Thom knows he’s usually (maybe surprisingly so) not exactly the complaining type.

“Come here.”

When Brendan doesn’t move, a little confused, Thom tilts his head towards the space between his legs and that seems to do the trick.

“Ouch,” Brendan complains when Thom first puts his hands on him, thumb pressing on a big knot at the base of his nape.

“Easy,” Thom shushes, gently pressing his fingers into the skin. “Let me work some miracle here, you made a big mess out there.”

Brendan hisses again but Thom doesn’t relent, keeps pushing his thumbs down and around to undo the knot.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah? Didn’t sleep in a weird position lately?”

There is a pause, and then a groan as Brendan starts to melt under Thom’s fingers.

“Might have spent the whole bus ride from Minnesota sleeping on Owen’s shoulder,” Brendan admits.

“Owen of all people?” Thom snorts. “No wonder you got stretched out all weirdly.”

“Not like you would have been a much better option— ouch, don’t dig your nails in, what the fuck.”

Thom laughs but gently rubs the spot he barely grazed, to be fair. When Thom keeps massaging the skin, taking care of Brendan’s neck and pushing his fingers under the hem of his shirt to get the top of his shoulders too, Brendan doesn’t have any more complaints to make.

Tuesday.

“Hey, do you have some Arnica cream?”

Brendan barging into his room without a warning is almost a daily occurrence at this point and that’s probably why Thom doesn’t even startle and just raises his eyes from his computer to Brendan at the intrusion.

“Hm?”

“I’m not sure we have some left at home so I’d rather be cautious and apply it here already.”

“Right,” Thom nods while he gets up and goes for the bathroom, Brendan trailing after him. “I didn’t even know you were there.”

“Had to work on something with Trusc but he’s on the phone with his girlfriend now and Matty’s studying.”

“And you thought I was easier to bother than Matty.”

Thom stops his rummaging through the drawers to turn around and share a small laugh with Brendan. Brendan shrugs but Thom knows they’re both in on the joke.

“Got it,” Thom announces once he has the tube in his possession and he hands it over to Brendan, who doesn’t take it.

“Oh, uh, actually I’m gonna need you to get me, it’s mostly on my back,” Brendan explains as he takes off his shirt and Thom gets to take in the already very purple bruise placed on Brendan’s lower back, close to his ribs.

“Holy shit,” Thom whistles. “Who got you like that?”

“Tried to block one of Johnny’s shots today.”

“Since when do you block shots? Leave that to Big Dog and Lukey please.”

Brendan rolls his eyes at him. “So, can you get me? It’s kind of hard to reach for me.”

Right.

Thom looks around, wonders if they should go back to his room but finally decides to sit on the edge of their bathtub, legs spread to make room for Brendan, beckoning him with a tap on his hip. When Brendan doesn’t move the way Thom needs him to, Thom tugs on his sweatpants to get him sideways in front of him.

Brendan hisses when Thom’s fingers first touch him, goosebumps rising on his skin. “Shit that’s cold.”

“Sorry, princess,” Thom chuckles but rubs the tip of his fingers together to warm the cream.

Brendan still moves a little when Thom touches him again so Thom hooks one foot around Brendan’s ankle to keep him still and close.

Thom’s gentle and feather-like to the most of his abilities when he puts his hands on Brendan again, one of them holding his waist and the other rubbing the cream into Brendan’s skin.

“All good,” Thom announces once he’s done. Speaking in the silence that had settled almost feels like breaking a spell.

“Oh.” It takes a second for Brendan to catch up. Thom thinks he might be blushing a little. “Thanks, babe.”

Wednesday.

The way Thom struggles to find Matty and Trusc is probably a testament to how often he does (not) visit the library but no one needs to make note of that as he settles down at their table.

His future is still up in the air and Thom might have the student-athlete going on for him but he doesn’t want to try to find out what will happen to him if he fails his year, so, some studying it is.

“I thought Briss was supposed to be with you guys? He does know his dad can’t be there with him during the exam, yeah?”

Trusc laughs. “Well, he was studying with us actually, did very well for 10 whole minutes and then he started moving around and complaining and Matty sent him away because he couldn’t focus like that.”

“I didn’t “send him away”, it’s not like he’s a grounded dog or something,” Matty protests, looking at where Brendan appears to be pacing and shaking his arm on the other side of the room.

Thom chuckles before shaking his head and getting up to join Brendan. He’s aware that he’s getting a few looks and he’ll be damned if he gets thrown out of the library before he can manage to work through at least one class.

“Hey,” he tries to whisper to diminish the attention on them, grabbing Brendan’s wrist to still him. “What’s going on?”

Just like he did two days ago, Brendan looks like a deer caught in headlights when he realizes what’s been asked of him.

“My shoulder hurts. I’ve been trying to massage it so it would stop and I could focus on my papers but Matty says I’m being a nuisance by moving too much, which: fuck him honestly.”

Brendan looks more bothered than mad and Thom can’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes.

“Did you sleep in a weird position last night?”

“Maybe? Just woke up feeling all weird.”

“Do I need to send you a bunch of videos on the do/don’t of how to sleep correctly? It’s getting concerned, Briss.”

Thom punctuates his sentences with a smile and Brendan rolls his eyes at him.

“Don’t be mean. I really need to work on marketing. My dad can’t exactly be with me the day of the exam.”

Thom’s laugh earns him a few dirty looks that he just decides to ignore.

“Alright. Let’s buy everyone some coffees so we’re all in a good mood and then I’ll take care of your shoulder for you,” Thom more announces than suggests, his thumb running over the thin skin of Brendan’s wrist in a gesture he wants calming.

Honestly, the way Thom can still read over Brendan’s shoulder and study with him while he uses his hands to undo the knots in Brendan’s arms and back is pretty nice.

Matty’s smiling into his coffee from the other side of the table. Thom is pretty certain he’s the best.

Thursday.

“What are we watching?” Brendan asks as he settles down on the couch, socked feet on Thom’s lap.

At least tonight Thom already knew Brendan was there. He came home with them after practice to hang out and hasn’t left since, which: typical.

Brendan goes for the new season of Peaky Blinders. Thom might spend most of his attention on the groans Brendan produces and the way his face goes slack when Thom thoroughly digs his thumbs into the ball of his feet.

Friday.

“My hand hurts,” Brendan blurts out in the middle of their econ class.

Thom rolls his eyes at him. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Hey,” Brendan protests. “I’m no longer used to writing so much.”

“And an hour ago when you realized you had forgotten your computer, I told you I would give you my notes. Didn’t I?”

“I don’t trust your notes.”

Fair. Still.

“I don’t trust your notes.”

Thom thinks they get a look from their professor, he tries not to look at Brendan because he knows he’s going to laugh otherwise.

Thom turns to his right instead. “Hey KJ, will you let Briss and I borrow your notes after class?”

Kent answers him with a roll of his eyes and a dutiful “of course Thom” that transpires me of how much he knows the demand will never come.

When Thom turns back to Brendan, a “See, issue fixed” hopefully conveyed by his face, Brendan has his right hand palm up on Thom’s desk space. “Still hurts,” he gives as an explanation.

Thom stops taking notes but he swears he’s paying attention when he spends the remaining hour of the class with Brendan’s hand on his lap under the table, tips of his fingers digging into his palm, nails occasionally grazing the skin.

Saturday.

Thom’s having lunch with some of the guys in the dining hall when Brendan joins them, tray slamming against the table next to Thom.

“I thought you were going to wake me up before you left,” he half accuses-half pouts at Johnny.

“Told Mackie to take care of it,” Johnny answers before munching on his apple.

Mackie raises both of his hands in the air. “I swear I knocked but you didn’t answer. Last time I insisted more you curse me out for like half an hour, wasn’t gonna tempt fate.”

That earns him a laugh from the whole table. Brendan not being a morning person is pretty much the understatement of the century.

“S’okay babe, I’ll wait on you, still got plenty of time before the home game routine,” Thom says and receives Brendan’s best smile in return.

Thom’s not the only one who ends up staying even once their meals are finished. He is, however, the one whose hand Brendan silently grabs and puts on the back of his own neck, while he’s busy talking to Owen on the other side of the table.

Thom’s pretty sure Brendan almost misses his mouth with his fork once, with how good Thom’s fingers dig into his skin.

Sunday.

Thom wakes up with a very mild hangover, a huge weight crushing his chest and hair just under his nose.

“Briss?” Thom tries. Maybe he had enough to drink to fuck up his voice a little but not enough that he wouldn’t remember who stayed the night with him because he was too lazy to walk back to his place and it’s cold out there, Bords.

Thom jostles him a little, hand scratching the back of his head and tugging on his hair not so gently. Brendan’s face eventually emerges, his eyes squinting at Thom. Thom misses black-out curtains on a daily basis but he’s fine with the way the sunlight hit them just right this morning.

“Hi,” Brendan finally greets him, right cheek bright red (and probably hot to the touch) from where it was laying on Thom’s chest.

Brendan’s voice also sounds rough and with the arm not supporting himself on Thom, he goes for the Gatorade on Thom’s bedside table. He tries to squeeze some into Thom’s mouth once he’s done drinking himself and Thom isn’t awake enough to complain about the way half of it ends on his throat instead. Doesn’t really matter that it’s gonna dry sticky when he’s going to shower in the very near future.

“Slept well?” Thom asks after he hears a pop when Brendan stretches his neck.

The lazy smile and the soft “Yeah” he gets in answer are kind of a lot.

Thom gets snapped out of the moment when Brendan leans back to sit on his knees. “I’m hungry. You’re hungry?”

“Sure,” Thom nods even though he doesn’t have the slightest bit of motivation to get downstairs.

“Alright, don’t move, I’m taking care of it,” Brendan announces as he finally gets off the bed and starts looking around for— ah, sweatpants, it appears. Thom’s, given how short they appear to be at Brendan’s ankle.

“What?”

“I’m taking care of it,” Brendan repeats. “Don’t move. You better still be here when I come back in like 15 minutes.”

And just like that, Brendan is out of the room, leaving Thom as confused as ever. He stays like that for maybe one minute, then spends the next 5 on his phone, and when Brendan still hasn’t reappeared, Thom decides to go for a shower, which does wonders to truly wake him up and get rid of the lingering alcohol-induced fatigue.

When Thom comes back from his shower, Brendan is sitting on his bed, back to the wall, a tray next to him where Thom can see two plates with scrambled eggs and strawberries, a couple of Reese’s cups and two glasses of orange juice.

“Breakfast in bed?”

“Breakfast in bed.”

“What did I do to deserve that ?” Thom asks as he sits down on the other side of the tray, being careful with the glasses.

Brendan shrugs. “You’ve been the best for me all week. Time to return the favor.”

Which, uh.

“Come on, I put my whole heart into it. Do you need me to grab something else?”

Thom shakes his head and starts to dig into his eggs. After that it’s easy to let Brendan lead the show as he tells him about the FaceTime call he had downstairs with a friend from LA and how Thom should come for the NBA playoffs and they also need to catch some Angels games together.

“I should be nice to you more often,” Thom jokes as he drains the last of his orange juice. There’s a (not) joke to be made out there about how he’s always good to Brendan anyway but whatever.

Brendan just smiles, gets up and disposes of the tray on Thom’s desk.

“Alright, shirt off and get on your stomach.”

Flushing hard at the order is absolutely unavoidable, the heat immediately going to Thom’s cheeks. “What?” he says and he knows he sounds way more concerned than he did an hour ago with the same question.

Brendan walks up to the bed, towering over him while Thom is still sitting there. Brendan flicks his shoulder with his fingers, face going a little serious. “Trust me?”

Thom has this feeling flying around in his body, moving between his chest and his throat, the one that’s been there all week and then some before that, the one that’s always there when he knows they’re toying with something else.

Thom follows Brendan’s order, keeps quiet when Brendan then straddles him and settles on the back of his thighs.

He wants to protest that he’s not tense but then Brendan digs his thumbs hard into some rough spots in his back and oh, yes that does feel good.

Delicate is not a word Thom would have used to qualify Brendan but Thom closes his eyes anyway, rests his cheek against his pillow and feels his spine go liquid.

Thom gets lost in the moment, doesn’t even feel self-conscious when he groans at another particularly well executed movement and knows he has goosebumps rising on his skin when Brendan rakes his nails lightly along his sides.

The hot feeling pools in his stomach when Brendan’s fingers get awfully close to the small of his back, grazing the elastic of his sweatpants.

Even Thom’s best breathing exercises don’t exactly calm him down where his blood has run South.

“All done,” Brendan announces with his thumbs still rubbing Thom’s ribs, almost tingling.

It doesn’t seem like Brendan intends to move, barely moving up on his knees to give Thom some room to turn over.

Brendan’s now sitting at the top of his thighs when Thom can face him again and when Thom pulls on his abs to sit, one hand supporting his weight on the mattress by his hip, they’re almost chest to chest.

Thom can feel his heart hammering inside his chest. He’s hot all over when he looks at Brendan and says: “Thank you.”

Brendan’s “You’re welcome” gets cut off when they meet in the middle in a kiss. It’s a little off at first because they’re both smiling too hard but then they both focus and just like everything they join their forces for, it’s good.

Thom laughs and they break apart by a couple of inches when Brendan pushes him back into the mattress, forearms bracketing Thom’s head.

Thom tucks a strand of hair away from Brendan’s forehead. “So that’s what this elaborate plan was all about, uh?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Brendan smiles, smug and bashful at the same time.

Thom kisses him again.

#brendan brisson #thomas bordeleau #hockey rpf #prompt fill #1934 #yes maybe the end was rushed but also ths wasn't supposed to be nearly 3k sorry #yes i know they have a private jet for travel but bear with me for the bus thing #it's 4:35am and I have to wake up in three hours but yes thom's mine with a heart totally pushed me to finish this #anyway i love them

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yelena-bellova · 3 years

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Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty: Party on Pasaana

Plot: Poe, Y/n, Finn, Rey and the rest of the gang journey to Pasaana to try and find the Wayfinder.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none really

Word Count: 6.8k

A/N: I’M BACK! This is by no means my best or favorite chapter but it moves the story along and boy, is there a lot coming...Hopefully you’ve stuck around this long and if not, I’m not offended. Hope you enjoy!

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Despite the fact that I’d spent my day fixing the Falcon, me and Chewie still ran every diagnostic possible on it before even thinking about taking her up. She was too temperamental to be treated any differently.

“You know I love flying with you, but don’t feel like you’re obligated to come with, Chew,” I said, closing up the last panel on the underside of the ship, “This one isn’t going to be a simple supply run.”

Chewie groaned in protest at my offer to let him stay on base, reminding me of the promise he’d made to Dad. That he’d protect me and he didn’t intend to stop doing that anytime soon.

I conceded to the Wookiee and emerged from underneath the Falcon. I found Rey finishing her repairs as Poe stood nearby, patting her on the arm, “We’re going with you. Chewie, you get that compressor fixed?” “No, I did,” I answered, dusting off my hands on my pants. The two of us still hadn’t spoken since our fight earlier in the day. “What do you mean you’re coming with us?” Poe separated from Rey, revealing Finn and the droids behind him, and led me to the side of the Falcon. He kept space between us, probably because he didn’t know where we stood after our fight.

“Do you honestly think we’d let you guys take this on by yourselves?” he asked.

“Poe,” I shook my head, “Rey and I don’t even know what we’re walking into, I don’t want to throw you guys in the line of danger.” “So it’s too dangerous for me to risk my life but not you?” he asked with raised brows, wedging me between a metaphorical rock and a hard place, “Y/n, we’re a team. If one of us goes, we all go.” I hung my head in frustration, these were the type of situations that I hated the most. I couldn’t protect everyone, that had been made clear, and I certainly couldn’t justify to Poe why it was okay for me to charge headfirst into a fight but not him. Though I’d try every time, even if it was bound to end in failure.

“Fine,” I relented, shrugging and letting my hands fall against my legs, “But I’m flying us there.”

“Understood,” Poe agreed, pulling a corner of his lip up in an almost smile, “I am sorry about today, y’know…It was stupid of me not to think about how much the Falcon means to you.” “Me too,” I sighed, remembering all the harsh words we had flung at one another in contrast to the white flags me were now waving. This wasn’t the first makeup we’d had lately. Not by a long shot. Poe and I had been fighting more than usual, tensions were high with all that was going on and our relationship wasn’t escaping un-scorched. There was never any doubt as to whether or not we still loved each other, but we needed to find better ways of dealing with our stress rather than taking it out on each other. “Chewie told me there was only one escape route and you took it. You guys coming back alive is more important than anything else.”

Where there should have been a kiss or intertwined fingers, there was only silence and our best attempts to smile. There was so much lying underneath the surface that we didn’t ever have time to deal with.

“I wish you’d tell me.” I tried my hardest not to look phased, “Tell you what?” Poe swallowed as he stared into my eyes, “Whatever it is you’re keeping from me.” Every hair on my body stood to attention and fear shot through my veins. I knew he’d become suspicious of me but we hadn’t addressed it out loud before. Once the words of distrust hit the air, it became a true issue. The bottom line of it all was if Poe knew I had been in contact with Ren, he would never trust me with anything ever again.

My tongue peeked out to wet my lips as I nervously shifted my weight to my other foot, “I need you to trust me that what I’m doing, I’m doing for the good of the Resistance.” “We don’t keep secrets from each other, Y/n,” he shook his head and placed his hands on his hips, “That’s not us.” “You wouldn’t understand it, it’s Jedi stuff.” He bit his lip and nodded sarcastically, “Oh, so because I’m not a Jedi, my little average brain couldn’t possibly understand whatever problem you’ve got? Thanks for clearing that up.” “Poe,” I took a step and reached out to grab his forearm, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just please trust me. Everything I do, I do it to keep us safe.” I watched the emotions flicker in his eyes, changing from confusion to anger to desperation to hurt. The thought of confessing to him came through my mind at least ten times a day, but it wasn’t possible. Selfishly, I didn’t want to watch him learn of my betrayal. He would never look at me the same way and I wasn’t ready to lose that.

“I trust you more than anyone,” he finally said, stiffening his voice to hide his emotions, “I just wish you felt the same way about me.” He shrugged out of my hand’s hold and made his way up the ship’s ramp. I chewed on my bottom lip and leaned my forehead against one of the Falcon’s legs. There was nobody on any planet in any galaxy who I trusted more than Poe. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me and the fact that he was beginning to doubt my trust in him was a sucker punch. This time he wasn’t at fault, he only wanted to help me shoulder the burden. But there was nothing he could do to aid in the mental torture I was inflicting on myself.

I turned on my heels to go find my mother but froze at the sight of her and Rey locked in an embrace. I could sense the sadness in Rey that came with leaving her, the only mother figure she could remember having. Watching as she turned away, clipping Uncle Luke’s lightsaber to her belt, I took my cue to say my farewell.

“We’ll check in when we can, if we can,” I stated, partially as a commander but also a daughter to her worried mom, “Who knows, maybe we’ll be back in time for dinner.” A lame attempt at humor, yes, but there was nothing I wouldn’t do to try and make her smile in the most concerning of hours. “Look out for each other, don’t take too many risks,” she instructed, taking my hand in hers, “And come back in one piece.” There was some feeling in the air that I couldn’t put a name to, but it was there nonetheless. I never liked leaving Mom but with the stakes as high as they were, I felt a new sense of dread. I wasn’t immune to fear of losing my life and the reality of something happening to me and leaving her on her own caused a new urgency inside me to come back alive.

“I love you,” I whispered, squeezing her hands tight as tears began to fill my eyes, “So much.” “My darling,” I could hear the emotion in her voice that she was pushing down, “You are the greatest love I could have ever asked for.”

There wasn’t much more that could be said as I bent down to hug her, there was so much meaning inside our few words. We’d survived for a year as a family of two, something we were never meant to do, but we’d somehow done it. Mom’s health had begun to worsen with her age, but the incident on the Raddus had forced what was natural to happen prematurely. She got tired quicker, she required a cane sometimes and needed my help more often, though she always tried to avoid asking. I didn’t think it possible but we’d somehow grown closer in the last year, which made it all the more important that the mission go right and I return safely.

She whispered against my ear, “May the force be with you.” I pulled back with a watery smile, “We’re gonna need it.” With a kiss to her cheek, I forced myself to head back to the ship with a deep pain in my chest. It felt like I was tied to both the Falcon and Mom, the more distance I put between her and I, the more I began to hurt. It lit yet another flame of determination inside me to come back victorious.

Rey had waited for me outside the Falcon, attempting to act like she hadn’t witnessed the tender moment. The two of us shared a hopeful smile before we walked up the ramp together. When we arrived in the cockpit, it was apparent that it was going to be a tight fit. Rey moved to take the empty co-pilot’s chair with Chewie standing in the back, waiting to be called to action. Poe and I didn’t bother to make eye contact choosing instead to bury our pain for a later date. I gave Finn a good natured slap on the shoulder before sinking into the captain’s chair. I’d flown the Falcon hundreds of times by now and yet each time I took the controls, I felt like a child way out of their depth. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, there was no time to waste on fear. All that mattered was the mission.

“Next stop,” I narrated as I readied myself to lift the ship off the ground, “Pasaana…” ————

“You sure this is it?” Poe asked from the front of our group.

“I followed the coordinates perfectly,” I panted, already missing the jungle heat as opposed to Pasaana’s dry kind, “Right, 3PO?”

“Mistress Y/n is correct, these are the exact coordinates that Master Luke left behind.” We rounded the bend of the hill we’d climbed to find the least likely scenario on a planet we’d thought remote; a party.

“What is this?”

“The Aki-Aki Festival of the Ancestors,” 3PO explained, “This celebration occurs only once every 42 years.” “Well, that’s lucky,” Finn commented from beside me.

“Lucky indeed, this festival is known for both its colorful kites and its delectable sweets.” Under normal circumstances, I have had all the patience in the world with the droid I’d spent my whole life around. But now, overlooking the obstacle that would make it harder to find the Wayfinder and ultimately save the galaxy, I joined my friends in staring him down. “3PO, read the room.” “Let’s get down there,” Poe directed with a thumb tucked into his holster, “This is gonna take way longer than it should.” Having spent the better part of my life traveling, I loved getting to immerse myself in different planet’s cultures. It was one of the reasons my diplomatic skills were so highly tuned, I knew how to connect with all different types of people. So there was a small part of me, though stressed, that made a note to take in the sounds of the Aki-Aki’s chants and the array of colors in the crowd. I wasn’t the only one interested in the details either…

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” a wide eyed Rey commented as Finn and Poe passed us by.

“I’ve never seen so few Wayfinders,” Finn retorted.

“Take in what you can, we won’t be back for another 42 years,” I bumped Rey with my hip before following our group.

“There’s always random First Order patrols in crowds like these, so, keep your heads down,” Poe turned to look back at us, zeroing in on the only one tall enough to stick out, “Chewie. Let’s split up, see what the locals know.”

Rey was too taken by her surroundings to fully register what Poe was saying and Finn had gone with my boyfriend, leaving me to follow along with them. As soon as I did, Poe turned to me, “What are you doing?” “…Coming with you?” “We’ve gotta cover as much ground as possible,” he gestured over towards a grouping of tents, “Try talking to some of the traders, see if they know anything.” Thinning my eyes at him in shock that we were on a mission and Poe didn’t want me with him, I decided that now wasn’t the time to fight back. “Fine, Bee,” I called to my boyfriend’s droid hovering near Rey, “You’re with me.” The two of us made our way through a couple vendor’s booths, unsuccessful in getting any information about the location of the Wayfinder. I didn’t even have to do much talking with them, my senses could tell me whether or not my question brought up any memories. Which was good for me because I wasn’t in the mood to do a lot of chit chatting. Bee must have picked up on my silent frustration because he nudged me in my calf, urging me to talk. “He could have said it about ten other ways,” I vented, “But instead he had to make it sound like I was doing something wrong by going with them.” You know how he can be when he’s stressed. “I’m stressed too,” I cried, gesturing to my chest, “And maybe I wanted to go with him because I feel a little less worried when I’m with him. It’s never mattered what’s going on, we’ve always partnered together on missions. Clearly he doesn’t need me this time.” Didn’t you two have a fight before we left? Do you think it has something to do with that? I sighed defeatedly, “Probably…Or the fight we had earlier today, or the one we had just before he left a few days ago…” There was no shortage of examples I could have given as to why Poe didn’t want to be around me. “Things aren’t great between us right now.”

Maybe you should talk to him about it.

“Not right now, Bee. There’s bigger things at hand then Poe and I fighting. Nobody here knows anything, let’s go find the others.” When we made it back, Finn and Poe were engrossed in a conversation with an Aki-Aki. He turned his focus to me, “Got anything?” “I’d probably be a little more enthusiastic if I did, Dameron,” I remarked, taking a spot across from him instead of next to.

He looked between me and Finn, who was trying to remain focused on the Aki-Aki in question, “Whoa, what’s going on?”

The saddest part of why I was angry was the heart of the matter, Poe and I weren’t functioning like the inseparable couple we’d been for the last year. We were functioning like soldiers, ones who bickered at any chance we were given. And while I wanted nothing more than to talk to him about how I felt and ask him when things had gotten like this, not even love could come before war. I looked up at him, the frustration and hurt clearly painted clearly across my face, “Nothing that matters right now, I’m gonna go question some others but don’t worry, I’ll do it by myself.”

Just as Poe was opening his mouth to reply and I was ready to turn away, Rey came running in our direction. “We have to go. Back to the Falcon, now,” she ordered.

“Why?” Finn asked. “It’s Ren.”

Despite the anxiety running through my veins, I took a contradictory step forward. “He’s here?”

“He’s on his way,” Rey answered, her eyes wide and locked with mine.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here,” Poe began tracing our path back to the Falcon with his eyes, “It’s back this way.”

We ran through the festival with our heads on a swivel, until Poe shot his arm out as a barrier when we came face to face with a stormtrooper. “Freeze! Hold it right there. I’ve located the Resistance fugitives, all units report-“ A dart whizzed past us and landed perfectly in the trooper’s eye. We turned to see a figure holding a crossbow standing behind one of the tents, dressed in robes and his face covered with a helmet. “Follow me.”

With no other options in sight, we trusted in our mysterious savior and followed him. We climbed into his vehicle slowly rolling through the festival. “Leia sent me a transmission,” his modulated voice said before speaking in an alien language to the driver. “Okay, how’d you find us?” Finn asked what we were all thinking. The man reached to take his helmet off and I was greeted by a face I hadn’t seen in years. He grinned, “Wookiees stand out in a crowd.” “Lando!”

Chewie moaned his excitement at seeing his old friend and shoved his way past us all to hug him. “It’s good to see you too, old buddy,” he laughed before turning to me, “Look at you, the princess is all grown up.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed for the first time all day, “I can’t believe you’re here.” “This is General Lando Calrissian,” 3PO said from behind us.

“We know who he is, 3PO,” Rey gently admonished.

“It is an honor, General,” Finn said, a big smile gracing his face. “General Calrissian,” Poe spoke up, “We’re looking for Exegol.”

Lando looked between our crew before centering on me, “Of course she’d send you.” I scrunched up my nose and tilted my head, “I didn’t give her much of a choice.” He shook his head with laughter, “You’re her daughter alright…” he flicked his wristlet on and a holo of a Wayfinder appeared, “Only two were made.” “A Sith Wayfinder,” Rey said, “Luke Skywalker came here to find one.” “I know,” Lando chuckled, “I was with him, Luke and I were tailing an old Jedi hunter,” he changed the image on his holo to a creature, “Ochi of Bestoon. He was carrying a clue that could lead to a Wayfinder. We followed his ship halfway across the galaxy here. When we got to his ship, it was abandoned. No clue, no Wayfinder.” “Is the ship still here?” I asked.

“It’s out in the desert where he left it.” “We need to get there, search it again,” Rey suggested.

My posture straightened as the sound of ship engines filled my ears. I peered out a window to see a small bunch of First Order ships flying towards the festival grounds.

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Lando muttered before turning to us, “Ochi’s ship is out past Lurch Canyon. Go!” “Thank you, General,” Poe said before beginning to help each of us out of the crawler.

Chewie moaned his happiness at seeing Lando again, something he reciprocated. Before taking Poe’s extended hand, I quickly embraced my non-biological uncle. “We’re on Ajan Kloss, come join us. We need pilots.” “My flying days are long gone,” he gently declined before taking my hands into his, “But do me a favor, give your mother my love.”

“I will, as long as you consider coming,” I said before kissing his cheek and allowing Poe to help me out. My heart ached to walk away from another member of my family…

“Can’t believe I never put it together that you’re a princess.” Poe said from beside me as we sprinted through the desert. I was hoping no one had noticed Lando’s long standing nickname for me.

“Of a planet that ceased to exist long before I was born,” I panted, “I don’t think that counts for much.” “Doesn’t matter, I’m still going to call you Your Highness,” Finn called from ahead. “There,” Poe pointed, “Those speeders,” he tossed his gloves off, slid beneath the vehicles and began hot-wiring the vehicles. The yelling of a group of Aki-Aki, presumably the owners of the speeders, made him hurry through his work. “We gotta go!”

Finn, Poe and 3PO hopped into one while Rey, Bee, Chewie and I crowded into the other. I didn’t have time to look back as I began steering but I could sense that Poe was surprised that I didn’t come with him. The urge to turn around and yell at him for the exact same thing that had happened moments before was strong, but once again not our highest priority. What was important was the stormtroopers tailing us. Rey took over on offense while I piloted us, it wasn’t until her cry of my name that I turned around. The troopers were flying through the air using jetpacks, something none of us had ever seen.

“I can’t get a clear shot!” Rey yelled.

“Switch with me!”

She continued firing her blaster as she moved to the front of the speeder where I let her take the wheel. I ducked down next to Bee and calculated what angle I needed them to be at for my plan to work.

I’ve got an idea. “Bee, not now,” I shouted over the engine, turning back to the problem at hand. Ignoring my ignoring him, Bee began tapping away at a stray canister in front of us until it shot up into the air. A yellow explosion burst from the canister in front of the stormtroopers. When one emerged from the cloud, his disoriented driving sent him off a ramp like cluster of rocks. Rey turned and took a perfect shot, the trooper’s speeder exploding in the air.

“Never underestimate a droid,” she grinned.

“He’s doing my work for me!” I replied, standing back up and nudging Bee, “Now where’s Poe and Finn?” “Y/n, look,” I joined Rey at the front of the speeder, “Ochi’s ship.”

Parked atop a large structure of rocks was a modest craft that hopefully contained the answers we needed.

Rey’s face turned serious, “I’ve seen that ship before.”

“Y/n! Rey!”

I whipped around to see Poe and Finn’s speeder flying up behind us, “You get all of them?”

As I inhaled to answer triumphantly, the speeder was thrown forward and us with it. We flew through the air before landing roughly in a pile of dark sand, the screams of the rest of our group following directly after. I rolled over with a groan and looked up to see one last trooper whizzing through the air. Finally getting to go through with my original plan, I got to my knees and raised one of my hands, force pushing him into one of the cliffs.

“So they fly now,” I exhaled, falling back on my heels. As soon as my full weight landed in the sand, it began collapsing into itself.

“What the hell is this?” Poe exclaimed, I looked over to see the same sensation happening to him.

“Sinking field,” Rey cried, “Try to grab something!”

I struggled against the pull of the field to try and reach a piece of our smoking speeder, but my torso was already below the surface making it nearly impossible. I had landed somewhat near Poe and tried to wriggle my way to where he was, him already doing the same. I stretched my arm out as far as it could and barely brushed his fingers when his head dipped down below the surface. “Y/n!” he called out just as I lost sight of him. “No!” I yelled, throwing my arm into the pit and fishing around to try and grab him. “Rey, Y/n,” Finn said frantically, “I never told you tha-“ he disappeared into the black sand, lost to us. “What? Finn!” Rey called, it was the last thing I heard below my body was pulled under fully.

What followed was pure darkness, I kept my eyes squeezed shut as to not get anything in my eyes. In a flash of panic, I flailed about and tried to swim upwards back to the surface for a breath of air. All I could do was struggle and pray that I met the bottom, I didn’t want to die in a pit of sand. After a few seconds, I crashed through something hard and my back hit open air. I fell to the ground with a groan, Bee’s beeps and squeals a homing beacon in the dark. “Poe,” I sat up, feeling around the dimly lit cave for him, “Poe…” “I’m here,” he replied, I could barely make out his silhouette as he crawled on his knees to me. His gloved hand wrapped around my arm, making his close presence known, “Are you okay?” In a rare moment of tenderness, something we hadn’t felt in a long time, I reached up and laced my hand through his curls bringing his forehead down to meet mine. “Where’s everybody else?” Poe pulled me to my feet and unsheathed his flashlight, “Rey! Finn!”

“You didn’t say my name, sir, but I’m alright,” 3PO said, coming in from the other side of the cave.

The sand seeping out of the ceiling of the cave followed by loud grunts sent Poe and I bolting towards it just in time for him to catch Rey and ease her down to the ground. “You all right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, “Where’s Finn?” “Where’s Chewie?” I asked, rotating my head rapidly to try and get a full scope of the cave. On cue, Chewie dropped harshly from the ceiling with a moan, I ran over to him and helped him sit up.

Finn climbed out of a hole behind us, “I’m good. What is this place?” He stumbled towards us, the four of us huddled together for a relieved reunion.

Poe had one hand on Finn’s shoulder and one clutching my waist, he pressed a quick peck to my temple. “I thought we were goners,” he panted, I savored the feeling of being close to him even if it had taken thinking we were going to die to get there.

“Which way out?” Finn asked.

I squinted as I looked at our surroundings, “Can’t see a thing.” One step ahead of me, Rey unclipped her lightsaber from her belt and ignited it, lighting our path. Poe stepped forward as well, clicking his inferior flashlight on as if it would make a difference next to the luminous weapon. Shaking my head at my boyfriend, I ignited my own saber and followed Rey, “We need to hurry if Ren’s on his way. “So what was it?” Rey asked as Finn joined us.

“What?” he replied confusedly.

“What you were gonna tell Y/n and I?” A beat passed, “When?” “When you were sinking in the sand, you said ‘I never told you…’” Rey spelled it out for him.

He inched closer to the two of us and lowered his voice, “I’ll tell you later.” “You mean when Poe’s not here?” the man in question asked from behind us, staring Finn down as he squeezed between the three of us.

“Yeah,” Finn replied confidently.

“We’re gonna die in sand burrows and we’re all keeping secrets?” Poe deliberately turned his head to look at me when he hit the word ‘secrets,’ a wave of guilt washing over me.

“I’ll tell you when you tell us about all that shifty stuff you do,” Finn fired back, referring to to hot-wiring of the speeders and no doubt something else he’d seen Poe do recently.

“I do not wanna know what made these tunnels,” Poe commented as he took the lead at the front of our group.

Ever the helper, 3PO jumped in to give an answer. “Judging by the circumference of the tunnel walls…” Poe turned to the droid, “I said I do not wanna know. Not,” he realigned his focus ahead of us, spotting something in the shadows, “What’s that?” “Is that a speeder?” Finn asked. “An old one,” Rey answered as she got a closer look. “Wonder if it still runs,” I said, running a hand over the dusty vehicle, “We’re gonna need a way out of here.” “Perhaps we will find the driver,” 3PO said hopefully. I think they’d be dead by now.

“Yep, BB-8, I think dead too,” Poe responded to his droid’s astute observation.

“Oh, my,” 3PO pointed towards the symbol on the front of the speeder, “A hex charm.”

“What’s a hex charm?” I asked, shining my saber over the detail and getting a look at it myself.

“A common emblem of Sith loyalists,” 3PO answered. “The Sith…” I mumbled under my breath, running a finger over it and catching the dust in my hand.

“This was Ochi’s?” Finn asked. “Luke sensed it,” Rey stepped forward, “Ochi never left this place.” “And he ended up down here,” Finn continued the train of thought.

“He was headed for his ship,” Poe completed the sentence, “Same thing happened to us, happened to him.” I followed Rey who was hot on the scent of something, the two of us spotting the skeleton at the same time. “So how did Ochi get out?” I took a breath, “He didn’t.” The four of us moved as one to examine the carcass, mangled and broken into pieces but clearly bearing resemblance to a creature. “No he didn’t…” Finn muttered.

“Bones,” Poe said from beside me, turning away for a second to stifle a gag, “I don’t like bones.” “Bones? Never a good sign,” 3PO commented.

My eyes flitted over the scene while Rey searched deeper, spotting a bump in the sand with Bee and helping him to unearth it. She pulled out a unique carved dagger, I could sense the same thing upon seeing it that she could. “Horrible things…have happened with this,” she trembled. “The writing…” I crouched down next to her, running a finger over the weapon and trying to figure out what language the script was written in, “I don’t recognize it, 3PO?”

The loyal droid came forward and took the dagger from my outstretched palm. “The location of the Wayfinder has been inscribed upon this dagger,” he announced, “It’s the clue that Master Luke was looking for.” “And? What does it say?” I asked with a hopeful smile.

3PO turned to our group, “I am afraid I cannot tell you.” “20.3 fazillion languages and you can’t read that?” Poe asked in confusion.

“I have read it, sir, I know exactly where the wayfinder is,” the droid responded, “Unfortunately, it is written in the runic language of the Sith.” “And?” I asked, inklings of impatience seeping out of my voice.

“My programming forbids me from translating it.” “So you’re telling us the one time we need you to talk,” Poe shook his head, “You can’t?”

“Irony, sir,” the droid answered, backing up to face us head on, “I am mechanically incapable of speaking translations from Sith. I believe the rule was passed by the Senate of the Old Republic.” I wasn’t listening, none of us were listening as he went on, instead focusing on the large serpent that had appeared behind 3PO with a growing growl. The four of us took a startled step back and held out our various weapons. It let out a meaning roar followed by a loud hiss, alerting 3PO to its presence. “Serpent! Serpent! Serpent!” Surprisingly, Rey placed a hand on top of Poe’s blaster and lowered it as the serpent showed off its razor sharp teeth once again. Keeping her eye trained on the beast, she blindly handed her lightsaber out for Finn to take. “Rey…” he cautioned, gripping the weapon tight in his grip. I could sense what she was sensing as I watched her approach, the serpent was crying out in pain more than anything else

“I’m gonna blast it,” Poe said quietly, his blaster once again aimed at the snake.

“Don’t,” I whispered, contradicting my words as I kept my saber activated in my hand, ready to fight if necessary. Rey kneeled down next to the snake, her eyes still locked with it as she laid her hand over its body. It snarled at her but she didn’t flinch, shutting her eyes and doing what I suspected she would do. She healed whatever wound the serpent had, receiving a small non-threatening moan in thanks. It snaked away down another pathway of the cave, revealing an exit that lit the cave up with the sunlight of Pasaana.

Bee rolled forward to ask Rey what she had done as she rubbed her hand, “I just transferred a bit of life. Force energy from me to him. You would’ve done the same.” “Luckily, we won’t have that problem again,” I said as I deactivated my lightsaber and clipped it back onto my belt, helping Rey up after, “Nice job.” Our group climbed out of the hole and we got a good look at the rock structure that displayed Ochi’s ship we’d seen during our speeder chase. “Looks like we’ve got our ride,” Poe commented as we walked up the rocks.

“We cannot possibly fly in that old wreck,” 3PO interjected.

“We gotta keep moving, find someone who can translate that dagger,” Poe replied, “Like a helpful droid.” “I suggest we return to the Millennium Falcon at once,” the droid said as forcefully as he was capable of being. “Troopers’ll be waiting at the Falcon,” I said, pausing my steps to try and shove aside the pain I felt at the thought of leaving my beloved ship behind, “We’ll find a way to get it back.”

Not more than two seconds after I spoke did each hair on my body stand up straight and a cold wave run through my body. I twisted to look out upon the miles of sand and rock, sensing the familiar presence of Ren yet not being able to see him. Rey and I shared a look, concern mixed with understanding that someone had to deal with it. I could feel that it was her that needed to confront him, I wasn’t the only one that shared a complicated history with the Supreme Leader. I nodded understandingly to her, the two of us not needing to speak a single word.

“What is it?” Finn asked, approaching the two of us. “I’ll be right behind you,” she said, handing Finn her staff and bag, “It’s okay.”

She passed by both of us, heading back down the way we’d come to go deal with our problem. “Let’s go,” I directed, turning back towards our new ride, “She’s got this.” The rest of us climbed the rest of the rocks until we hit Ochi’s ship, opening the ramp and heading into the heart of it. “Let’s see what we’ve got,” Poe said, switching on the flickering lights, “Let’s get those converters fired up.”

Finn, Poe and I marched to the cockpit, swiping at dusty cobwebs that adorned the ship. Poe flipped open the shutters and started her up proudly while Finn and I were more focused on looking out the windows for Rey. “Where is she?” he asked me.

Poe interrupted before I could form an answer, “Guys, help me out over here.” “Chewie, tell Rey we gotta go,” Finn ordered the Wookiee, who looked to me for confirmation. I gave a short nod and ran off the assist Poe in getting the ship up and running.

“What is she doing?” he grumbled as he sat down in the captain’s chair. “She’s helping us out,” I sat down in the seat next to him, “Trust me.” “That’s all I get?” he asked annoyedly as he flipped various switches, “Another Jedi thing I wouldn’t understand?”

“Are we really doing this right now?” I snapped, pressing a few buttons to help prep the ship.

“We wouldn’t have to if you would just tell me what’s going on,” Poe shot back, his voice raising to match mine. “It’s Ren,” Finn interrupted our fight, anxiety creeping into his tone. He bolted out of the cockpit leaving Poe and I to ourselves. “Finn, wait!” I yelled, taking off after him before he tried to intervene. I caught up to him outside of the ship, “Finn, you’ve gotta let her do th-“ My feet stopped as I spotted what Finn saw as well, Chewie was being loaded into a First order transport along with the dagger. Finn and I dropped to the rocks, crouching down and watching the scene unfold as the Wookiee pushed forward into the ship, hunched over and handcuffed. My natural instinct was to run and free him, but I knew that spelled too much potential danger for us all. And with Finn’s hand tightly gripping my arm, there was no way he’d let me go. It was one of the worst tortures I had to endure.

“We need to find a way to stop the ship,” I said quietly through my unshed tears, “If Poe could get that thing in the air…” “If we fire, the whole thing goes down,” Finn ended the idea as soon as it had been born.

I buried my face in my hands and rubbed furiously, my mind spinning with adrenaline and worry. The sounds on an approaching ship caught my attention, I rose to my feet and followed the noise across the rocks. Yards away from us stood Rey, lightsaber ignited with her back turned to the ship that undoubtably belonged to Ren. She took a running start as the craft advanced toward her and what happened next even I could hardly believe as I watched it. Rey flipped up in the air, letting her arm hang down and slicing off one of the ship’s wings. While she landed gracefully in a cloud of dust, Ren’s ship split violently until it was just the round cockpit rolling across the field of sand before exploding against one of the rocks. My breath caught as the flames engulfed what was left of his ship, I searched for any life left in the wreckage, sensing that he wasn’t dead yet. With my focus momentarily on Ren, I hadn’t noticed Finn had climbed down the rocks and was calling out for Rey.

“They got Chewie! They got him!” he pointed to the skies, I looked up to see the transport containing him had taken off.

“No,” I mumbled to myself, sticking my hand out to stop the ship using the Force. Rey had the same idea and aided me in my efforts. At that moment, a familiar cloaked figure emerged from the flaming wreckage, slowly making his way towards us. I could feel his stony, emotionless stare even with the great gap between us. Even so, I kept my focus on trying to pull the ship out of the sky. Ren extended his hand as well, creating resistance for Rey and I that only made us try harder. The three of us stood locked in our stances, throwing the ship from side to side as we battled for the life inside.

Then suddenly, the fight was over. From Rey’s outstretched hand came thick strands of lightning that wrapped around the ship. It took mere seconds until an explosion ripped the ship apart.

“Chewie!” Rey shrieked in horror. “No!” Finn cried.

I dropped to my knees in shock, watching as the wreckage floated to the ground, Chewie buried somewhere inside. One loud guttural sob escaped my lips and I clutched my stomach, crying out for the loss of another part of my family.

“Guys!” Poe’s voice broke through my grief, “We gotta go! They’re coming!”

Through my tears, I looked above to see Poe standing above me next to the ship and heard the noise of incoming fighters. I had to summon the strength to rise to my feet, my eyes drifting back to Chewie’s fiery grave one last time. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice choked with emotion. I spared a final look to Ren, who I could sense was just as shocked at what had happened as I was. I sensed something in him, the same thing I had sensed when Mom had been thrown out of the Raddus. Sorrow. I wished I could have said I cared, but all I felt towards him was anger. He had contributed to Chewie’s death.

As Rey and Finn approached, I snapped back into action and climbed the rocks, Poe helping me and pulling me up the final foot. We bolted for the ship, racing to the cockpit and taking our assigned seats. He had gotten the thing in flying shape and as soon as we had everybody on board, Poe lifted it off the ground and shot us into the sky and away from the fighters. It was only when I knew he could manage without me that I slipped out of my chair and out of the cockpit.

A distraught Rey was waiting in the hold for me, she stood as I entered, “Y/n, I’m so-“ I breezed past her and Finn, I ignored the droids, I didn’t even think to go to Poe for comfort. Instead, I locked myself in the refresher and let my tears freely fall, mourning the loss of my life long friend.

----

A/N: I promise the next chapter will have little more going on...Let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged ☺️

Taglist: @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @springfox04 @constantdisgrace @holybatflapexpert @seninjakitey @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet @leilei-draws @eternal-fandoms @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @imaginecrushes @eternallyvenus @thescarletknight2014 @simplybarnes @captain-america5 @breyasficletblog @caseymcflurry @stumbleonmywords @april-14-blog @i-ievu @ultrunning @desperatelytryingtosavemyself @caswinchester2000 @meraki-loki @lovinnholland @wishing4wishes @fruitloopzzz @bbuckysbeardd @justanotherblonde23 @ace-fiction @abysshaven @thisshitfucks @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @itsfangirlmendes @superbookishhufflepuff @zoriis @hybrid-in-progress @chloe-skywalker @lovinnoya @horsedragonllama

Star Wars Permanent Taglist: @paintballkid711@caswinchester2000 @theliterarymess @softly-sad-deactivated20210329 @angelicadameron

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron imagine #star was imagine

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

the worst case scenario part 4

Finally! Sorry it took so so long I’ve just been mad busy! I’m really not sure how much I like this, but deff this is the second last part (if people still want another) so not much more to endure and suffer through if your stuck in it ahah x

tomhollandxreader

Warnings [please check before reading!!] : mentions of death / hospitals and ICUs / bit of lack of childhood love (have no idea how to phrase that rn wow)

Tom had silently cried again when saying goodnight to Y/n for the evening. Harrison hadn’t a clue what to do, except stand back helplessly and watch, giving his friend a bit of space - but at the same time not letting him go it alone. It took a painfully long time for Tom to collect himself before he could straighten up and turn toward Haz.

“You sure you don’t mind staying with her?” Harrison nodded pitifully at Tom’s glassy eyes, the way his eyebrows were furrowed downwards.

“I’ll stay till 10, I got her”

“I owe you bro” Mumbling, Tom launched himself to wrap his arms round his taller mate - squeezing extra hard because that was a way of distracting him from the emotions still threatening to overtake him.

“Nah I’m not doing this for you div…. I love her too ya know?” That made Tom scoff laugh a little, nodding his head as he leant away.

“Yeh she…she has that effect. Just-“ Tom momentarily looked back at the bed, watching the ventilator pump air to mechanically inflate your lungs. “Just call me if anything happens, please promise me.”

“You already know I will…. but- and I know this is hard for you- but you have to promise me you’ll give the baby a chance?” Tom gulped at the mention, looking away at the blue curtains for a minute, his jaw clenching. “Come on Tom just give her a feed or something… you know it’s what Y/n would want.“

“Can we not speak about this in front of her please?” Tom's voice was short and teeth were gritted as he gestured at his unconscious fiancé, giving the clear impression to H that it wasn’t really a question. The nurse pretended to busy herself monitoring all Y/n’s readings, feeling incredibly awkward. She was the one who had mentioned to Tom that Y/n might be able to hear, at the time meaning to be a comforting and possibly hopeful gesture, now she was deeply regretting it. This wasn’t the first uncomfortable situation she’d been in, working 1 on 1 with patients in ICU meant you were automatically privy to some of the deepest conversations between patients and relatives - though this was the first time it was a celeb too, especially one who valued his privacy so much. It was more than obvious Tom wasn’t uncomfortable just because his fiancé might be conscious enough to hear.

“No Tom I…” Harrison lost control. He snapped “No not at all! Because I know she’d want me to give you a good bloody shake! I get you haven’t landed on a name yet but at least see your daughter! I bloody hope Y/n hears this… if that’s what it takes for you to realise that, to be honest she’d be heartbroken and betrayed that you haven’t been loving your baby!”

Silence, except for the beeping and whirring of the various machines.

And the silence stayed for a painfully long time - Tom and Harrison holding each other in intense eye contact, whilst the nurse bit her lip in the corner. Harrisons breathing was slightly ragged from the whisper-shouted words that he’d let slip out. The atmosphere was tense, the nurse was inwardly preparing calling for help if and when Tom ultimately started throwing fists at his friend.

It took literal minutes for Harrison to concede, his friend's dark eyes painfully boring into his skull. Again he hadn’t meant to go off like that, he really didn't want to hurt his friend who was literally going through hell and back. Now wasn’t the time for tough love really , and Harrison instantly felt an insurmountable level of guilt.

“I-I didn-“

“-her names Aurora.”

“No Tom I’m sorry I really didn-“

“Her name is Aurora. Aurora Christina Mary Holland.” Tom wasn’t joking. He was so deadly and sincerely serious. Harrison had no trouble believing this, believing that Tom had been ruminating all day on this - just by the look of his brown eyes.

“It’s beautiful.” The blonde almost was gasping, inwardly repeating the name as a chant inside his head, correlating it to the memories of earlier that day when he was cradling the girl. There was no doubt about it- Aurora was an Aurora, it suited her perfectly. Yes, it wasn’t typical but it was beautiful. “What’s it mean?” He only asked because nobody picked a name without looking into it and Harrison knew that the couple had yet to name the little girl when she was first born as they were still torn between a few carefully considered options.

“Dawn like sunrise I think and-and, you know… the auroras that me and Y/n saw in Iceland the night I…. The night I proposed.”

The word held an awful lot of emotion for Tom. Y/n had always been one of those people - the ‘look up’ type or the ‘smell the roses’. Underneath her sarcasm and wit, she was one of the purest people, in the way that all she needed was the little things in life. It was a ball ache to Tom sometimes but Y/n always would drag him out of bed at stupid o’clock in the morning on a beautiful day to see the sunrise. He’d moan and groan all the way, only to grow silent when he gazed deeply at the sunrise sparkling her eye as she peered out at the horizon.

Of course, the aurora borealis was important too. You can probably already guessed; Y/n loved the night sky and stars too. She also loved the snow, the winter, the cosy log fires, the walks spent launching the freezing powder at Tom’s face - only to get it returned twice as bad. So when Tom was ready and oh so certain he would spend the rest of his life with her, a trip to Iceland seemed a pretty good opportunity to do it. No expense was spared on their little cabin in the woods, wrapped in cosy blankets staring up at the sky through the transparent roof that was the reason this cabin was so incredibly expensive. They’d spent the evening after they’d got back from exploring the frozen forest wrapped in the thick white duvet, chatting pure rubbish while cradling a luxurious hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream. Then these almost otherworldly green and blue ribbons grabbed their attention, dancing and waving across the deep midnight sky. Whilst she was transfixed, hair billowing round her on the pillow while staring upwards - that was when Tom leaned over, pulling the little black box out of the bedside table.

And then there was the new connotation to the word. The new situation that had him so incredibly hesitant to label her just yet. If Aurora meant a new dawn and meant life without Y/n he didn’t want it. More than that, he refused. No matter how impossible it was, Tom refused to think about life without her. It just wasn’t an option. It couldn’t happen.

Yet without much control over his own mouth, when Harrison had asked, it had just slipped out. He knew it had to be her name. But the fact he’d spoken it… that was terrifying.

“Well go see Aurora Tom… please.” This time they’d swapped, Tom was stoney faced and Harrison knew he was about to cry, which really Tom didn’t need to witness. What he needed to do was get him with his daughter. So again, for now, Harrison's emotions would wait.

And with only a small nod of parting, off Tom walked. The man left in the bay released a breath he didn’t know he was holding before turning and all but collapsing into the armchair next to Y/n. Unsurprisingly, this still was too much to process and shut his eyes, squeezing the bridge between the nose as he tried to slow down all the blurring thoughts in his mind - simultaneously trying to bring each one into focus and shock … that wasn’t very easy.

It was in fact at least two and a half hours he sat there, the white noise of the ward whirring dully in Harrison's head while he spent the time just… thinking. He looked asleep, eyes closed and slumped in the chair but he was painfully awake. All the remaining energy that dwindled in him from before this whole nightmare had started was spent trying to organise his thoughts; process all the medical explanations and jargon he’d heard; everything he’d seen, all the wires and tube; the advice on how to feed a baby with a bottle.

That was until a voice got progressively louder from the background crackle, slowly forming into intelligible words.

“Sir… Sir?” Blinking forcefully Harrison's eyes lazily focused on the nurse that had been stationed next to Y/n for certainly as long as he had been here, her black hair pulled tightly into a low bun and kind eyes smiling at him. “Sorry for waking you.”

“No no I was just ehrmm… just thinking.” She nodded with a gentle smile that kind of suggested she didn’t believe him but relented all the same.

“It’s just getting late and I thought you’d like an update before I clock off for the evening?” Nodding frantically, Harrison’s eye quickly shot over to Y/n - just to check she was still there.

“Okay well it all seems really positive actually. The doctors were in just before…” Alright, so maybe H had fallen a little bit asleep because he definitely didn’t know that the doctor had been in. “… they’ve withdrawn the sedation and her GCS has started to improve slightly, which basically is a measure of how unconscious a person is.”

“She’s waking up?” Haz was now bolt upright in the chair, looking between the nurse and the still apparently unconscious women lying in the bed.

“Very slowly… but it is looking good, maybe, the doctors are keen to see her condition tomorrow. I thought you might like to help me do her last GCS check of the evening?”

Just maybe the nurse had already taken these set of observations before she’d stirred Harrison but it was a nice way to demonstrate improvements that couldn’t really be seen to a patient's relative - who couldn’t interpret results like qualified health care professionals could. Hopefully, Y/n’s response would be the same as before and then maybe Harrison could report back to the heartbroken fiancé that maybe things weren’t so bad. Standing in front of Harrison, the state of him was more than evident and she had a sneaking suspicion Tom would be worse. Instantaneously then, Harrison nodded vigorously; jumping out his chair with sprite that even he didn’t know he had.

“Okay so in GCS we test eye responses, verbal responses and the motor - so movement…” The lady talked through it all to Haz who listened intently, nodding his head every so often. She then went through the process of first asking Y/n to open her eyes - nothing. Then applying light pressure to her forehead, still Y/n lay still. She then moved on to trying to rouse her with words, getting Harrison to join in but still receiving nothing back. It was starting to feel a bit hopeless to Harrison, yet he still entertained the lady, going through all her steps.

“Okay so now we test movement so first hold her hand and ask her to squeeze it.” Following her directions precisely Harrison tried, still receiving absolutely no response. “Okay so now we add stimuli, trying squeezing between her shoulder and neck, like your pinching her just not too hard.”

Hesitantly Harrison reached up to her shoulder adding a small pressure between his thumb and first and second finger. Again nothing happened but the nurse encouraged him to go a bit harder - he was being light as he just didn't want to hurt her. With a nod and a small mumble of “cmon Y/n/n” he added strength. It took a moment or two but then sure as Harrison standing there himself, Y/n’s opposite right arm limply twitched upwards - making a small almost pathetic, yet still very clear attempt to remove the pressure on her shoulder.

Looking up at the nurse pleadingly Harrison received a confirmatory nod back at him - communicating the fact that this was indeed progress. In fact, just seeing Y/n not completely limp and almost vegetative - made his adrenalin soar.

“It’s baby steps but in the right direction okay?”

Letting out a breathy and relieved laugh Harrison nodded jerkily, wiping his cheek on his shoulder just because there might’ve just been a tear or two there.

/////////////////////////

For Tom forcing himself to leave the ICU was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Why he had ever agreed with his mother was so ridiculously beyond on him, yet he felt he had somewhat lost his choice thanks to his well meaning best mate forcing him down the children’s floor. It wasn’t that he hated Aurora, physically that was an impossibility. And yet he hated what she’d done to Y/n, he hated that he was alone in this, he hated the whole situation. Which ultimately was his fault 9 months ago- which just made him hate himself even more.

Also in some weird and convoluted way, he felt as though he was betraying Y/n by seeing their baby. And that was exactly why… it was their baby. She’d been so excited, so so over the moon when those two lines appeared on the stick - it was cruelly unfair that he was physically capable to see her and Y/n was paralysed in an unconscious state.

Again his body seemed to be on autopilot, Tom was confused as to how he knew where he needed to go - having skilfully avoided the children’s ward for as long as possible. It was like a homing instinct, as much as he consciously was almost terrified to see her - he still appeared to need her near him. Seeing his parents in the hallway, Nikki cradling the little bundle wrapped in blankets, both of them making small talk to the nurse opposite. It was his dad who noticed him first, looking over the cautious look in his eyes and the way his fingers clutched nervously at the bottom of his hoodie.

“How is she?”

“The same I guess… she okay?” He nodded toward the little baby, Nikki looking up excitedly.

“She’s beautiful… a little bit stressed out but…” Nikki referred to her slight fussing, which was clearly far from full blown scream, more like tired and muted groans.She didn't really realise her poor choice of words till her son mumbled under his breath.

“Not the only one.”

Before she could apologise and backtrack, the same nurse who had been so kind to Harrison approached them all.

“Ah… Mr Holland right?” He nodded passively, receiving yet another sympathetic smile back. So many of them had been chucked about today, each one becoming less and less helpful and more and more infuriating. Though Tom was not about to fly off the handle since in all honesty, he was too drained for that. “ I just need to get you to sign some paperwork in private with me before we can formally discharge baby Holland. Would you mind bringing her in here?”

Almost even before finishing the statement she had already disappeared through a door into another hospital room, as if demanding him to follow immediately in order to comply with her busy schedule. Still stood a little dazzled, Tom watched the door swing shut while his brows furrowed, until eventually turning back to his mum. Aurora’s groans and general discontent had somewhat escalated during the small interaction with the nurse lady, her immature lungs producing an impressive level of volume. Nikki was doing the best she could, bouncing the little bundle up and down though it had little effect.

So wordlessly and as if in slow motion, Tom took the two steps necessary to be inches away from his mum - now able to completely see Aurora’s distressed face scrunching up with each sharp inhalation. He didn’t want to but Harrison had betrayed him by telling Y/n; the nurse wanted her in the side room; and he did…. He did want to. Wanted to have her pure and soft skin nested into his chest not Nikki’s; wanted to be her safety and her comfort; wanted to do Y/n proud.

In silence, Tom scooped the girl out his mum's grip, both Dom and Nikki watching his with cautious and shocked eyes - as Tom kept his gaze completely on the little thing. Then, he whisked the two of them into the room, away from the prying eyes (even if they were his own parents and Aurora’s grandparents).

As soon as he walked in the nurse pressed her mouth shut, sensing the need to be an invisible entity for a short while. Dom and Nikki had expressed their concerns about Tom’s feeling toward the baby girl before he’d arrived on the ward. She was acutely aware this was the first time he’d held his child in the last 18 hours.

Tom sat down, the girl silent now as she blinked open heavy eyes in confusion, probably because she recognised these arms but couldn’t place where. That was the first time Tom had seen his daughters eyes and all he saw was Y/n. Her Y/e/c eyes with the little darker flick in the bottom half of each iris. Aurora was his little piece of Y/n, which in that moment Tom realised was perhaps what he needed all day. Tears were tracking steadily down his cheeks while Tom used the back of his first finger to gently stroke up and down Aurora’s little chin- enjoying the way she leant into the action, uncoordinated movements of her head wiggling herself within the crook of his elbow.

The two of them and then the nurse opposite just sat quietly for five or so minutes, till eventually - lulled by her Dad’s regular stroking action, deep breaths and scent- Aurora let her eyes close again.

“She looks very happy with you Dad.” The nurse thought now was the safest time to speak, voice low, then taking the time to wait for Tom to respond. When eventually he did, it didn’t really fit the conversation but it was all Tom wanted to - and could- say in that moment.

“She’s just like her mum.”

The two then went through all the various forms Tom had to sign, all of which he did carefully so as not to disturb the little girl in his arms. It didn't take long before the nurse woman was ushering him out back into the hallway, where his parents were waiting anxiously for him. Dom saw the tear tracks Tom hadn’t bothered to wipe away, putting two and two together to realise maybe he’d come to his senses. So with the question of are you ready to go, Dom was more than delighted by the response he received. It wasn’t actually directed at him, more a breathy rhetorical question the sleeping child securely nestled into her dad’s toned arms.

“Let’s get you home Aurora.”

Because like it or not; no matter what the outcome was with Y/n there was doubt that this was a new start. A new dawn. It was terrifying, stressful and hard but in the same way you can’t fight the coming sunrise; Tom knew he couldn’t fight this event. It was happening, dawn was breaking and it was Aurora, him and Y/n. In whatever way fate chose it to be. A new ‘dawn’.

Aurora.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland angst #Tom Holland angst

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qitwrites · 3 years

Text

a numbers game

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Kiribaku

(AO3)

Bakugou knows his personality and general rage-filled disposition towards everything, in general, isn’t winning him any favours, but the texts have made him contemplate just how shitty he must’ve been in a past life to deserve a fate like this.

Because no one - and Bakugou knows such assholes as Monoma - but no one deserves to be on the receiving end of unsolicited dick pics. From random numbers. At all times of the day. For the last 3ish months.

“I am going to throw my phone out the fucking window, I swear on all that is good and pure, fucking bull-“

“More dick pics?” Camie interrupts with a wide grin, plucking the phone out of Bakugou’s hand.

“What the fuck else?” Bakugou snaps, trying to pull his phone back in vain. Camie holds it just out of reach, eyeing the disgusting penis with a critical stare.

"Hmm,” she says, passing the phone back to him before taking a sip of her terrible grass juice that smells like a badly mowed golf course, “the lighting is bad and he hasn’t done like, any grooming at all. 3/10.”

“You’re being generous,” Bakugou huffs, deleting the picture immediately and swallowing the still raging urge to fling his phone at the nearest wall. “It’s unsolicited. And his fingernails are fucking filthy. -100/10.”

Camie rolls her eyes. “You’re being dramatic again Kitkat.”

Bakugou counts to 10 in his head, tries to find that last shred of patience he knows is somewhere deep in his dark pit of a soul and breathes out in a rush.

“I need to fucking figure this out before I actually lose it and track down one of these fuckers and choke the life out of them.”

Because here’s the thing- Bakugou has been receiving dick pics and dirty text messages like hi bby want sex? and imma dick you down gud boo – he’s positively swooning, what a lovely way to be wooed – and he has no idea how to stop it. Yes, he could cancel his number and get a new one, but all of his bank details are linked to this one. He’s had it since he first got a phone in middle school, and now all of his documents are attached to the damn thing. The very idea of going to the banks and the DMV and every other stupid establishment to get it changed makes him grimace hard enough that he decides to bear with it.

Except, every time he receives one of these horrible pictures, his urge to blow up the phone, nay, the entire world, simmers at dangerous levels.

“Cool it kitkat,” Camie croons, giving his forearm a squeeze, “you’re making your homicidal face. That cannot be good for wrinkles.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Bakugou grunts, flinging his phone away carelessly and watching it skitter around on the kitchen counter before halting dangerously close to the edge. “I just want it to stop.”

Camie puts her atrocity for a drink down and pulls the fridge open, rummaging around as she says, “I have a theory about all this.” She pulls out a jar of jalapenos and places it in front of Bakugou. The blonde yanks a fork out of the admittedly cute utensil bucket in the middle of their counter before snapping the lid off and spearing a good 3 pieces in one go. He chews on them slowly and directs a raised brow at Camie.

“Well,” she muses, picking her drink back up, “as a woman that receives a LOT of numbers from guys and gals and non-binary folks alike-“ Bakugou makes it a point to roll his eyes hard enough to knock his head back; Camie’s laughter is loud and boisterous “- I have a tactic for when I don’t know how to say no and don’t want to give my digits.”

Bakugou has another forkful of jalapenos in his mouth when he narrows his eyes at her.

Camie shrugs, “I usually change the very last digit of my number. Works like a charm. I never meet the person again, and they can’t contact me. Win-win.”

“Win-win my ass,” Bakugou seethes. “Do I look like I’m winning right now? I am this fucking close to killing someone, because of stupid tactics like yours.”

Camie finishes the last of her drink, and speaks around her straw, “You say that, but do you know how many people, and especially dudes, don’t take no for an answer? The only reason I give out any digits at all is when I can’t guarantee my safety. I know it’s not like, the perfect solution or anything, but I’m giving you facts right now.”

And Bakugou does, in fact, know that. He’s met those pushy assholes- people that don’t back down, people that don’t take no at face value, people that push and prod and get up in his space. It pisses him off to absolutely no end.

“Whatever,” he concedes. He spears another forkful of jalapenos before grumbling, “So, what the fuck do I do?”

Camie grins, minx like. “Why don’t you text the number one ahead and one behind your own and ask? I mean, in the best-case scenario you figure it out and get it all to stop, in the worst case, you get to yell at like random people. Isn’t that your second favourite pastime, right after yelling at that pigeon outside our balcony, the one with an agenda?”

“Don’t talk about that fucking pigeon,” Bakugou fumes, “fucking piece of shit bird and those dark, robotic eyes. Something is up with that; you can’t convince me otherwise.” He mulls over the rest of her suggestion before relenting, “Well, I guess I could spare a moment to yell at the fucking extras giving out my number to perverts with no manners and gross penises.”

“I find it so funny when you say the word manners,” Camie says as she walks to her room, “It’s almost like you know what it means!”

She isn’t even looking at him, but she manages to dodge the jalapeno that sails at her head. It hits the wall with a sick squelch, and when Bakugou hears Camie’s door shut, he drops his head on the counter with a loud, resounding thunk and muffles a scream into the marble.

He forgets to send out those texts, and when he receives yet another picture, not three days later, of someone holding their disgusting penis in their hand, like it’s an accomplishment or some shit, he sends out a text message to two different numbers typed with shaky, sweaty fingers.

>> xxx-xxx-xxx6 , xxx-xxx-xxx4

I don’t know who the fuck you are, and you don’t know me, but it’s possible that one of you assholes gives out my number to random people who, in turn, send me fucking dick pics. It’s been over 3 fucking months, so knock it the actual fuck off. And in case it isn’t you, fuck you anyway.

Bakugou wakes up from a restless sleep to sunlight sloping in through the blinds of his room, a dry mouth, and three new text messages from an unknown number.

Because his brain takes time to boot up in the mornings, he foregoes the phone entirely and makes his way to the kitchen in search of caffeine. Camie is always up before him, and he gratefully pours himself a mug of her insanely strong black coffee, the kind to palpitate your heart and make you vibrate in your seat. She calls it jet fuel, Inasa calls it death, Todoroki just blinks.

When he’s half a mug down, he finally retrieves his phone from his room and takes a seat in the balcony, surrounded by plants of all kinds. The sun is bright but not harsh, and he takes a second to enjoy it before opening his messages.

He doesn’t even recall sending the messages last night, and for a moment he’s enraged at the idea that someone sent him even more dick pics, but there’s no photos waiting for him, just three messages.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 omg omg OMG I didn’t think anyone actually used this number im sorry D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 no really im so so sorry holy shit I was just following this idea that my friend gave me cause im terrible at turning people down but I didn’t realize they were messaging an actual other person OMG

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ofc I wont be giving your number out anymore im just so sorry bro, god, this is so damn UNMANLY of me

At least the person has the decency to sound apologetic. Not that it tempers Bakugou in any way, shape or form, but he takes note of it somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind.

Bakugou you better not give it out anymore fuckmunch. I should sue your ass for putting me under so much psychological distress.

The guy replies startlingly quickly. Bakugou opens the message with a quirked brow.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 shit can you actually do that?

Bakugou has no idea, but the key to selling anything is confidence, and he’s got enough to spare.

Bakugou try me

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM REALLY REALLY SORRY OK TRULY D:

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and not just cuz you might sue me or anything, it was a terrible move on my part :’(

xxx-xxx-xxx4 can I make it up to you somehow??

Bakugou huffs, deflating a little. He’s angry yes, positively incensed for the most part, but the guy sounds genuinely sorry, and he’s finding it increasingly difficult to stay mad at someone that’s just being so damn decent and taking full responsibility.

Bakugou I don’t fucking know.

Bakugou just stop giving out my no.

Bakugou I swear to god if I get ONE MORE NUDE

Bakugou I will find you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you don’t have to find me ill come to you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 cuz ill def deserve it at that point

xxx-xxx-xxx4 anyway, im sorry again. really ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get some sleep, so tell me later about how I can make it up to you!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 goodnight

Bakugou checks the clock at the top left corner of his phone screen. It reads 8:31am.

What the fuck does this guy do for work anyway? And does Bakugou care?

He decides no, he doesn’t, because he’s really too busy to care about anything, especially assholes that hand out his number to horny strangers because they’re too chickenshit to say no.

He nods at his own conclusion, downs the rest of his death-in-a-cup, and walks back inside, ready to start another long day of work. Bakugou gives himself an hour before he puts this all behind him, fully forgotten and finally taken care of.

Why the fuck haven’t I blocked this fucker yet, is the first thing Bakugou thinks when he gets more texts from them.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 heyyo!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 did you think of anything????? How can I make it up to you??

Bakugou stop texting me, that’ll be a great start

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I will as soon as u tell me how to make it up to you!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I was being so unmanly and cowardly, I need to fix it!!

Bakugou good for fucking you, leave me alone

xxx-xxx-xxx4 y don’t you keep thinking abt it and lemme know !!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 if it helps, I can hook u up with some free drinks!! I co-own and bartend at a place downtown!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just think abt it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I gotta get back to work, talk soon!

Bakugou stop texting me dammit

Bakugou isn’t a naïve person, but he somehow convinces himself that this will be the end of things.

It is, predictably, not the end of things.

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I just realized I didn’t give u my name

xxx-xxx-xxx4 Kirishima eijirou!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and you are?

Bakugou blocking you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 aww come on man, don’t be like tht ☹

xxx-xxx-xxx4 wait, r u a man?????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE AT LEAST TELL ME THAT I DON’T WANT TO MISGENDER U OMG

Bakugou can you calm the fuck down holy shit

Bakugou yes I’m a dude, you’re fucking fine dumbass

xxx-xxx-xxx4 oh phew!!!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ok my dude

xxx-xxx-xxx4 please come down to the bar??????

xxx-xxx-xxx4 do you actually drink though?? If you don’t we still have great mocktails

xxx-xxx-xxx4 and I can whip up some awesome protein shakes

xxx-xxx-xxx4 ohhh and our food is bomb,,, I promise

Bakugou do you ever just stop talking

xxx-xxx-xxx4 NOPE :D

Bakugou Not a compliment

xxx-xxx-xxx4 what can I say

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im an opportunist

Bakugou you’re telling me

Bakugou fucker

xxx-xxx-xxx4 IM STILL SO SORRY

xxx-xxx-xxx4 PLEASE COME TO THE BAR LET ME MAKE IT UP TO YOU

xxx-xxx-xxx4 actions speak hella louder than words

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I must action you

Bakugou what the fuck

xxx-xxx-xxx4 you get what I mean!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 <location> this is the place

xxx-xxx-xxx4 its name is RIOT, u cant miss it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 just lemme know when u can make it

Bakugou I haven’t agreed to shit asshole

Bakugou stop assuming things

xxx-xxx-xxx4 free food, free drinks, free live performance of whatever band’s performing

Bakugou …………………

Bakugou I’ll think about it

xxx-xxx-xxx4 HELL YEAH

xxx-xxx-xxx4 whats your name btw?

Bakugou like id tell you

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I need it for the reservation!!!!

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so that I don’t accidentally serve the wrong gentleman all your free perks

Bakugou didn’t say im coming yet

xxx-xxx-xxx4 im super optimistic

Bakugou I can tell, you’re giving me a headache

xxx-xxx-xxx4 so………… name?

Bakugou no

xxx-xxx-xxx4 I’ll get it out of you eventually

Bakugou try me

Bakugou fucker

If Bakugou finds himself smiling at the end of the exchange, well, that’s his business.

“So, you finally figured out who was responsible for the penis pictures?” Todoroki deadpans around his cosmo.

“That’s wonderful Bakugou!” Inasa booms, slamming his beer down on the counter with gusto. Bakugou throws a spoon at him.

“Shut it Baldy,” he grunts, going back to chopping veggies. “And yes, I did, but now this fucker won’t stop texting me, insisting on making it up to me or some shit.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Todoroki summarizes slowly. Bakugou turns around in time to see him mouth why to Inasa before taking another generous sip of his drink. Inasa shrugs his stupidly large shoulders before asking, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Bakugou throws another spoon at him. “Because, I texted them so I could stop people from texting me. Now this person’s volunteering information to me about being a bartender and shit and constantly apologizing and it’s fucking annoying.”

“You know what’s interesting?” Camie muses, stirring her bloody mary with a long ass celery stick. “You’re getting all these text messages from this bartender, and you can like, so easily block this one number and be done with it, but you like, keeping responding. And keep, you know, not blocking.”

He can’t see it, but he knows Todoroki is nodding, the fucker.

“That is a good observation!” Inasa booms again, and Bakugou has to resist the urge to fling his entire cutlery set at the man’s thick skull. “Do you like this person Bakugou?”

“What’s there to like, I don’t even fucking know him!”

“Well,” Camie starts, takes a bite out of the celery stick, continues, “he’s well-mannered. Clearly good looking, because you got a LOT of penis pictures these past three months, and that also leads us to believe the business is doing really well, if so many patrons come in begging for a number. All good things, don’t you think?”

“I hate you,” Bakugou says, stirring the curry with barely repressed rage. “I hate all of you. I hate humanity. Fuck people.”

“Or fuck this person in specific,” Camie says gleefully. “You haven’t gotten laid in like 8 months boo, you need to get some.”

“You’re the actual fucking worst.”

“In all seriousness,” Todoroki interrupts, putting his empty glass down delicately, “why haven’t you blocked the number? It seems like an easy enough solution.” The asshole has the audacity to sound genuinely curious, if not slightly amused.

Bakugou hates everything.

“I don’t, I don’t fucking know, ok?” He finally admits through clenched teeth. The blonde kills the heat and places the curry on the counter while Camie brings out the rice and some pickled vegetables from the fridge. She pulls out a beer and twists the cap off before handing it to Bakugou, who snatches it away and takes a quick swig before continuing, “He’s actually kinda nice to me, I guess. And I like watching him be so sorry about all those penises. I may have also mentioned suing him for psychological distress.” Bakugou catches Todoroki’s gaze. “Can I do that?”

Todoroki hums, “You can try, but I don’t think you’ve got that solid a case. Plus, haven’t you deleted virtually all the evidence?”

Bakugou grips the neck of his beer bottle harder. “I fucking hate everything.”

bartender asshole <image attached>

Bakugou what the fuck

Bakugou why are you sending me cat pics?

Bakugou also that cat is stupidly cute

bartender asshole I know right?????

bartender asshole her name is ruby

bartender asshole and id die for her

bartender asshole i just figured ud be a cat person

Bakugou ………….

Bakugou I hate u

bartender asshole :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou Bakugou Katsuki

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

bartender asshole HI BAKUGOU SO NICE TO KNOW UR NAME

Bakugou I hate everything

bartender asshole except ruby. Its not allowed

Bakugou …………………………………

Bakugou except ruby

bartender asshole :D :D :D :D :D

Kirishima, it turns out, is a ray of fucking sunshine. Bakugou has a distinct feeling that looking at him directly would be a blinding experience.

Not that he knows who to look for though; he has no idea what this guy looks like. He guesses that he’s buff, with all the times he tells Bakugou about the gym showers running out of hot water and beating his best weights doing bench presses, but he knows nothing else.

He does know that he’s sweet as fuck, making it impossible for Bakugou to stay mad at him. He doesn’t blink at Bakugou’s cussing, and he sends him cute pictures of Ruby.

There is a part of him, small but steadily growing, that wants to meet this stupidly nice bartender.

Bakugou hates everything.

dumbass bartender so what do you do???

Bakugou front-end development and web design

dumbass bartender oh damn!!!

dumbass bartender so youre like smart smart

Bakugou obviously

dumbass bartender have I seen your work anywhere??

Bakugou I recently redid the website of that protein powder company you don’t shut up about

dumbass bartender ????????????????????

dumbass bartender that’s amazing!!!!!!!!!

dumbass bartender I just revisited the website, it looks so cool

Bakugou duh

Bakugou im the best

dumbass bartender I don’t doubt that!!! :D :D

Bakugou don’t you have work?

dumbass bartender aww bakubro are you looking out for me <3 <3

Bakugou call me that again and I will fucking end you

dumbass bartender before the free drinks??? That you are yet to redeem? ?? at my wonderful establishment?????????? :D :D :D

Bakugou I hate everything.

dumbass bartender D:

Bakugou except RUBY DAMMIT

dumbass bartender :D

“Just to recap,” Kaminari says with an incredulous look in his eyes, “this guy cusses like a sailor, is constantly insulting you, never initiates conversation, and you still like him?”

Kirishima’s answering grin is bashful. “I mean, when you put it like that it sounds not so great, but he’s really not that bad! He’s super funny and confident, and he LOVES Ruby. Plus, I don’t like him like that, I just think he’s cool.” Kirishima picks up another glass from the washer and starts carefully drying it with his dishcloth before saying, “And, you know, I did put him through a lot by giving out his number. His behaviour is kinda warranted if you ask me.”

“I mean, in the beginning maybe, but haven’t you guys been texting for over a week now?”

“Denki, are you forgetting that giving out another number was your idea?” Kirishima mutters, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. “I’m in this mess because of you.”

Kaminari suddenly seems to find the glass in his hand a lot more interesting. Kirishima’s laugh echoes around the empty bar.

‘What’s so funny?” Ashido muses, bringing a crate of bottled beer behind the counter.

“Kirishima is going gaga over angry dick pic man.”

“I’m not going gaga, what the heck-“

“I think it’s cute,” Ashido says with a big smile. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you actually be interested in somebody; it’s really cute!”

“I don’t like him like that,” Kirishima stresses, though his cheeks are a little warm. He can blame that on the lack of air conditioning, he thinks.

“We talking about angry dick pic man?” Sero asks with a shit-eating grin. “10 bucks say he’s actually a middle-aged guy with a cheese fetish.”

“That’s so random-“

“You’re on!” Ashido yells, slapping her hand into Sero’s. “I think he’ll be a hottie.”

“He hasn’t even said he’ll come,” Kirishima says, eyes downcast.

“He’ll come,” the three chorus, going about doing their tasks. Kirishima shakes his head fondly and finishes up with the glasses. Just as he’s put all the shot glasses away, he feels his phone vibrate.

Bakubro just finished a massive project

Bakubro could use a drink this weekend

Bakubro know any good spots?

Kirishima’s face breaks into the biggest smile as he rushes to answer.

Kirishima I know a bar that serves free drinks with your name on it!!!!

Kirishima amazing food, dope music, the bestest drinks

Kirishima ive heard the bartender is a great guy too

Bakubro way to toot your own fucking horn damn

Kirishima :DDDDD

Kirishima bt seriously

Kirishima please? ???? ??

Kirishima PLEASEEEEEEEEE??????????????????

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro fine.

Bakubro Friday night at 8

Kirishima looks up from the screen and calls out, “Denki!”

“Yeah?”

“Switch shifts with me, I’ll do Friday.”

“Um, ok, why though?”

Kirishima doesn’t respond, just goes back to texting, his heart thudding in his ribcage.

Kirishima YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Kirishima cant wait :D

Bakubro I’m bringing my stupid friends btw

Kirishima wait

Kirishima you have friends???????

Bakubro I am going to end you

Bakubro you know what? Fuck you im not coming

Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

Kirishima IM SORRY OFC U HAVE FRNDS

Kirishima please come

Kirishima how big a table should I reserve????

Bakubro don’t bother

Kirishima IM SORRRYYYYYYYYYY

Kirishima <image attached> <image attached> <image attached>

Bakubro bastard

Bakubro you playing dirty by sending me pics of Ruby

Kirishima need to weaken your guard somehow

Kirishima pls tell me it worked

Bakubro ugh

Bakubro ill be there

Bakubro reserve a table for 4

Bakubro your stupid bar better be worth it

Kirishima I promise it will be!!!!

Kirishima whoops in joy, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He looks up to see three sets of eyes looking at him with varying degrees of amusement.

“You get a really mushy look on your face when you’re texting him, it’s almost gross,” Sero points out with a laugh.

“Hush you,” Ashido admonishes, whipping her dishcloth at him. She walks over to Kirishima and gives him a big hug. “I think it’s very, very precious.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s coming this Friday!” Kirishima beams, holding Ashido closer against his side.

The three giggle.

“10 bucks say Kirishima messes up the drinks at least once.”

“HEY!”

Ashido squeezes around his middle. “Hon, I love you, but I’m not dumb enough to go against that.”

“HEY!”

They end up laughing and fibbing at each other for the rest of the prep time, and Kirishima feels his heart absolutely soar.

Friday brings with it crunch time, running lines and lines of code, having a mini-breakdown because the stupid text block keeps floating around on the webpage like it’s in outer fucking space, being forced into one of Camie’s ridiculous vlogs and having an existential crisis about what to wear on a non-date get-together with the guy that ruined Bakugou’s life for close to three months.

Camie spends most of the day laughing at him. Bakugou throws more condiments at her.

“Fucking help me at least, you useless wench,” Bakugou growls, shifting to clothes as he throws a pair of jeans at her. Camie dances out of the way and doubles over, laughing till she tears up from the force of it all.

“I can’t, I just can’t,” she wheezes. “Did you just say wench? What era are you from babe?”

“FUCK OFF,” he roars, leaping towards her. Camie shrieks and ducks away, making a beeline towards his closet.

“Ok, ok, let’s get you dressed! What kinda look are you trying for?”

“Fuck if I know,” he grouses, feeling oddly out of his depth. He wants to look good, but he has no idea for what.

That’s a lie, he knows why. He just won’t admit it.

“Well, why don’t we pick something simple but flattering? Plus, if it's in your style, you’re bound to be more comfy.” Camie pulls out a pair of black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a black fitted round-neck tee shirt, and some black boots. While he’s changing, Camie pulls out a silver chain, some bands for his wrists and a collection of rings.

“Do you want me to do your eyes?” she offers, holding up some mascara and an eye pencil. Bakugou shrugs and sits on the edge of his bed. Camie’s smile is soft as she stands between his thighs, gently but efficiently applying his make-up. When she’s done, he walks over to the mirror to look at himself, and he has to admit- he looks good. Always one to take care of his body and his figure, Bakugou is lean muscle packed into a 5’10” body. His blonde hair is as messy as ever, but the combination of his make-up, the accessories and his clothes give him an edgy look like no other. Camie throws a dark fitted jacket at him before sauntering over to her own room.

He continues to reply to some work emails when his phone buzzes.

dumbass cant wait to see you!!!

dumbass just ask for me at the bar

dumbass or I might be the one to greet you!! :D :D

Bakugou I know dumbass

Bakugou what, are you nervous or some shit?

dumbass I mean, kinda????

dumbass it’s our first time meeting afterall

dumbass I don’t even know wat you look like!!!!

Bakugou blonde wearing all black

dumbass redhead wearing a shirt with the riot logo!

Bakugou whatever

Bakugou ill be there at 8

Dumbass cant wait <33333

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou scoffs, his own nerves calming at the thought that he’s not the only one that’s a bit out of sorts. It’s nice to know that sunshine Kirishima is jittery about all this.

Also, interesting to know that he’s a redhead. Bakugou can’t quite imagine it, but in a few minutes, he won't need to.

His stomach roils with anticipation, and Bakugou hates every single thing.

Camie pops out of her room at half-past 7 in a maroon romper that cuts above her mid-thigh, hair done in a loose bun, makeup absolutely perfect. Her heels put her at a height taller than Bakugou, but he’s gotten used to being the shortest in their stupid posse. Doesn’t piss him off any less though.

She gets a phone call just as she pushes a tube of lip gloss into her purse.

“We are downstairs!” Inasa’s voice rings through her speaker, stupidly loud.

“Can it, baldy,” Bakugou grunts with a roll of his eyes, “we’ll be there in a sec.”

“See ya!”

Before Bakugou can usher Camie out the door, she pushes her clutch into his hands and walks over to the kitchen cabinet, pulling out two shot glasses and a bottle of tequila.

“Wha-“

“Liquid courage, my dude,” she says, pouring two generous shots and pushing one at Bakugou. She picks her own glass up and gives him a devilish smirk, “Bottoms up bitch!”

Bakugou picks the glass up with a resigned sigh but smirks back equally devilish. They cheers, smack the glasses against the counter and drain them smoothly. Camie puts the glasses in the sink, places a smacking kiss on Bakugou’s cheek and laughs brightly as she dances out of the way of his rage.

They finally load up in Inasa’s range rover, Todoroki plays classical Japanese music over the speakers and Bakugou regrets everything.

Riot is apparently something of a beloved establishment in its neighbourhood, and Bakugou growls when he sees how long the line leading to the bar is.

“Holy moly, that’s a lot of people!” Camie points out helpfully as she disembarks from the car.

Todoroki straightens his two-tone denim jacket and runs a hand through his hair as he says, “We have a reservation, so I think it’ll be fine?”

“Yes, I agree with you Todoroki,” Inasa beams, locking the car behind him as they walk towards the building. The outside is made of exposed brick and neon lights, and the RIOT sign is a deep red colour, eye-catching and beautiful.

They bypass the people in the line and walk up to the bouncer, who eyes them warily. He’s built like an absolute tank, broad and block-like, and his silver hair shines in the artificial light.

“Can I help you?”

“Bakugou, table for 4,” Camie says cheerily. The bouncer looks immediately enamoured with her before his eyes go wide.

“Wait, Eijirou’s Bakugou?”

Bakugou’s ears burn at that.

“I’m not fucking anybody’s!” he snaps. The bouncer immediately looks at him, and his face breaks into an even wider grin.

“Well, I’ll be damned! Can I see some ID real quick?”

Bakugou cusses colourfully under his breath but pulls out his license, and after a quick check, the bouncer, whose name is Tetsutetsu, steps aside to let them in.

“Have a good time!” he says happily, almost too happily. Bakugou feels his hackles rise.

“What the fuck?”

“It appears that Kirishima talks about you at least as much as you talk about him,” Todoroki observes, walking next to Bakugou.

“I don’t talk about him, fuck you!”

Todoroki’s delicately raised brow makes him want to punch something. Or someone. Preferably both.

“Fuck you all,” he reiterates before stomping inside.

Now, Bakugou is a relatively creative soul – his job kinda demands it – so it’s not his fault that he’s actually quite captivated by the interiors of this stupidly popular bar co-owned by a stupidly nice person.

The inside has exposed brick as well, and most of the furniture seems to be retro. There are large pipes and barrels behind the bar, made of what seems to be pure copper. Black marble covers the bar tops, and the lights are a mix of neon and muted whites, bright enough to see but still bathing the room in an alluring aura. There’s music thumping through the speakers, loud enough to dispel any silence but still at a bearable volume.

“Swanky,” Camie whistles, taking it all in.

Bakugou nods begrudgingly before setting his eyes on the bar.

“I’ll go get us a fucking table,” he mutters before walking over, hands digging deep into his pant pockets. He sees a lanky black-haired guy and a girl with tan skin and pink hair behind the bar, talking animatedly with the patrons as they serve them drinks at a dizzying pace.

When he finally gets a spot at the counter, the pink-haired girl finishes up with a customer and bounds over to him.

“Hi,” she greets, smile wide and happy, “haven’t seen you around before! What can I get you?”

“Kirishima,” Bakugou says because apparently, his brain to mouth filter has decided to abandon him in his time of need. The girl tilts her head in confusion and Bakugou feels the life drain out of him.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m fuckin here because of dumbass Kirishima,” Bakugou barely grits out, fingers digging into his palms painfully. “The name is Bakugou, table for 4?”

He sees it all in slow-mo- the way her mouth goes slack, the way her eyes light up like firecrackers on New Year’s, and then the way her smile becomes positively blinding. He hates her already.

“Holy shit,” she breathes, “of course! So glad you’re here! Oye, Sero?”

“What?” the black-haired guy says without looking, topping up a perfectly poured glass of beer.

“You owe me 10 bucks.”

This gets his attention- he hands the drink off and looks at her, “Why would I-“

The girl just gestures at Bakugou and winks, “It’s him.”

Sero – or plain face, Bakugou’s brain helpfully supplies – immediately looks at him, his eyes widening. “Shit, seriously? Aw, man.” His smile becomes mischievous. “I’ll get Kirishima.” He opens the door behind the bar and disappears.

“What the fuck was that?” Bakugou snaps, beyond irritated to be so out of the loop.

“Nothing, nothing,” Pinky sings, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Kirishima will show your party to your table. Do you want anything in the meantime?”

“… a beer,” Bakugou concedes because he’s not dumb enough to not get a drink before he sees Kirishima if he can help it.

“Coming right up!”

He waits at the bar, watching as his group of dumbasses ooh and ahh at the place, looking delighted. A bottle of cold beer hits the counter with a satisfying thunk, bringing his attention back to the bartop.

“Enjoy!” Pinky still has a stupid smile on her face but before Bakugou can say anything, the door behind her is thrown open and plain face steps out.

“The restocking can wait, literally the only thing you’ve talked about for the last 3 days is finally happening.”

The guy following him is all tanned skin and thick muscles under a fitted deep red tee shirt. His hair is a bright unnatural red, pulled into a high pony with a few strands still framing his face. His eyes are a softer red than Bakugou’s own, his cheeks sharp and high, and when his eyes meet Bakugou’s, a zip of electricity races down his spine and along his limbs till he can feel it in his toes.

When the man makes his way over, Bakugou also notes how damn tall he is- easily around 6’4”. His smile is shy, and he smells like sandalwood.

“Bakugou, hi,” he breathes, hesitantly holding his hand out. Bakugou takes it in a daze, still amazed by just how stupidly beautiful this stupidly kind bar owner is.

“Heyyo, you disappeared fam, how’s it going?”

Bakugou hates everything.

He reluctantly slips his hand out of Kirishima’s warm, firm grip and turns to Camie with venomous eyes. “I literally just met him Cam, shut the fuck up.” He turns back to Kirishima, “Can you show us to our table?”

Kirishima shakes his head once before his smile turns blinding, and Bakugou finds himself fighting the urge to shield his eyes. “Of course,” he says in a voice that’s deep and warm and honey-like, “right this way!”

Bakugou snags his beer off the counter and takes a quick swig before Camie steals it and takes a few sips of her own. He growls at her but otherwise behaves, watching Kirishima’s back as he leads them through throngs of people engaged in cheerful conversation.

“Ok, well, he’s hot,” Cam says around the lip of the bottle. “Total beefcake. Whaddya think, boo?”

“I think you should fuck off,” Bakugou hisses, his face burning.

“If you wanted to go on a date, you probably shouldn’t have invited us,” Todoroki says, taking the offered bottle from Camie.

Before Bakugou can explode in their faces, Kirishima stops and turns around. “Here ya go!” He gestures to a table behind him, tucked into a more private corner of the bar. It’s large and cushy, and when Bakugou gets in after Camie, he’s surprised at how soft the material is.

“So?” Kirishima says, eyes trained on Bakugou.

“Fuckin what?” Bakugou snaps, voice lacking any heat.

Kirishima laughs, head thrown back to reveal a long, thick neck and Bakugou is so damn weak.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

Bakugou clicks his tongue before gesturing at each of them, “Camie, marketing expert by day, YouTube beauty vlogger by night, pain in my ass always. Todoroki, environmental lawyer and a soba obsessed weirdo. Inasa, physiotherapist and resident dumbass.”

Kirishima gives them all a wave before saying, “Kirishima, co-owner of Riot and the reason why Bakugou saw more unwarranted penises than strictly necessary in a lifetime.”

“Asshole,” Bakugou grumbles, earning him another laugh and a bashful hand ruffling the back of Kirishima’s head.

“Still so sorry about that man,” Kirishima offers, “everything’s definitely on the house for you all! Speaking of ordering-“ Kirishima moves on to explain their ordering system-

“You can scan the code with your camera app,” the redhead says, pointing at the barcode on the centrepiece of their table, “and it pulls up our bar and food menu. Just enter your order and your table number,” he points at the large digits on the side that glows a bright 15 back at them.

Inasa pulls his phone out to order. Before he leaves, Kirishima says, “Can I get your drink order before I go?”

Camie asks for a LIIT, Inasa gets a Soju bomb and Todoroki starts off with his usual- a cosmo.

“You good on that beer?” Kirishima asks Bakugou warmly, his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, sliding lower into his seat. “Maybe get me another, your choice?”

“Coming right up,” Kirishima beams before stepping away, and Bakugou’s heart splutters around his chest at the sight of sharp white teeth and cheek-aching grins.

“He’s so cute!” Camie squeals, stealing the last of his beer. “And he’s totes into you too.”

“I have to agree, he’s very attractive,” Todoroki says impassively.

“Certified hottie,” Inasa rounds up, flashing his own biceps for some reason.

Bakugou is so done, and they’ve been here all 5 minutes.

“Kirishim- Kirishima, the beer is overflowing,” Ashido says, pushing him away and taking over. “God, you’re so gone for him, it’s almost embarrassing.”

Kirishima snaps out of his stupor and moves to take the glass back. Ashido hip checks him away.

“You’re being a little stupid, go help Satou with plating and take the food to lover boy’s table.”

“He has a name, you know,” Kirishima mumbles, but Ashido simply laughs, and Kirishima feels his neck and ears go warm.

Because who let Bakugou walk into his bar looking like that? Looking so damn gorgeous in his all-black get up and his perfect eye make-up and that fierce scowl?

Kirishima’s heart had pretty much stopped at the sight of him, and it was yet to regain its usual rhythm.

The redhead rests his forehead against the wall and mumbles, “I’m so screwed.”

“We know buddy,” Sero says, patting his back sympathetically, “we know.”

For all that Bakugou hates outings and people and outings in places filled with people, he finds himself having a moderately good time.

Because the food is delicious if lacking a little heat, the alcohol is mixed perfectly and the music is fantastic, filtering through old rock classics with some alt stuff mixed in.

And then there’s Kirishima- tending the bar with ease, laughing along with his co-workers, and sending Bakugou wide, happy smiles that sets his entire face on fire.

“This place is awesome,” Camie whoops, banging another shot glass on the table before knocking it back with ease. Todoroki joins her, his impassive face not so much as twitching at the taste of strong tequila before he bites into a lime. Inasa is already beer drunk, cheeks dusky as he hums along to the music.

“Insufferable,” Bakugou mumbles around his 4th-ish beer. He likes to keep up his grumpy act till his last shred of dignity melts away cause of the alcohol, and he’s probably pretty hit already because he lets Camie pull him into her side with her arm around his shoulder, his nose suddenly privy to the scent of her mellow perfume.

“I love you guys,” Camie beams, picking up her beer and waving it in front of her. Todoroki and Inasa clink their drinks against it, and Bakugou silently waves his own bottle around before downing it.

“You guys good on- oh my god, are you Camie? THE Camie?”

It’s Pinky at their table and her eyes are so comically wide that Bakugou can’t help his snort of laughter. He feels Camie straighten up, but her arm around him stays, holding him close.

“Define THE Camie,” she says with a smile in her voice.

“The beauty blogger that I’ve only been following for the last 3 years, holy shit I love your videos.” And then suddenly, her eyes narrow on Bakugou before she snaps her fingers. “NO WONDER YOU LOOK FAMILIAR! You’re the angry blonde in all her videos!”

“Haan? You wanna go pinky?” Bakugou growls, moving to stand up. Camie keeps him firmly by her side, her laughter shaking them both.

“That’s us!” Camie says. Bakugou finally fights his way out of her grip and throws her a withering look, or his drunken attempt at one anyway. She winks, and he fake gags. “I don’t get recognized in public all that often LOL, this is fun.”

“Did you just say LOL in a verbal fucking conversation?”

“What do you mean you don’t get recognized; you literally have like 3.2million subscribers.”

Camie ignores Bakugou and shrugs at Pinky. “I guess my primary demographic aint here fam. Speaking of which,” she thrusts her hand out, “what’s your name?”

“Ashido Mina,” she says, taking her hand firmly. Camie introduces her to the others, and Bakugou looks back at the bar, disappointed to see that he can’t find Kirishima.

“Can I top you guys off?” Kirishima says, suddenly right next to their table, effectively startling the shit outta Bakugou.

Camie chirps an affirmative, Todoroki asks for a water and checks to see if Inasa’s breathing as the big olf continues to sleep, curled up in the corner of the booth.

“And you Bakubro?”

“Don’t call me that,” Bakugou frowns before adding, “I should probably stop, I’m already kinda tipsy.”

“Lightweight,” Camie teases.

Bakugou gives her the stink eye. “Woman, the one time I tried keeping up with you, I ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning and you didn’t have so much as a hangover, so fuck off.”

“Seriously?” Kirishima says, eyes wide.

“That’s amazing,” Ashido murmurs, her smile crooked and dangerous.

Bakugou. Hates. Everything.

“He had no lasting liver damage, we’re all fine,” Camie reassures before diving into a conversation with Mina about beauty hacks and good mascara brands and global warming.

Kirishima leans close to Bakugou, bathing him in that warm sandalwood scent. “How about I get you some water and one last beer? A Hefeweizen?”

Bakugou turns to look at him, and his breath hitches in his throat when he notices how close they are, when he sees just how red Kirishima’s eyes are, how the heat seems to radiate off his skin. He exhales in a rush and looks away, answering with a jerky nod.

Kirishima gives his shoulder a friendly squeeze – he’s so warm, his hand is fucking huge – before walking to the bar and picking their stuff up.

When pinky finally meanders away from their table to serve other customers, Camie leans her head on Bakugou’s shoulder and says, “We’ll leave soon, ok?”

Bakugou nods again, leaning some of his weight back into her. Todoroki catches his eye and flashes him a warm, tipsy smile, and if he returns it with one of his own, well, he’s drunk out of his skull and has approximately no fucks to give.

Long after putting Bakugou and his posse in a cab, before which they insisted on paying pretty much the entire tab since they ate and drank a LOT, Kirishima and the rest are cleaning up when Ashido whips him with her cleaning rag.

Kirishima looks at her with betrayed eyes, “Wha-“

“Ei, you better text him again.”

“About what?” Kirishima says glumly. “I did what I said I would do, and I promised to leave him alone after that.”

“Boy please,” Ashido scoffs, roughly wiping down one of the tables, “ya’ll made such gooey eyes at each other all night, plus I’m pretty sure he paid the entire tab just so you could keep up whatever façade you guys have going on to cover up the fact that you have INSANE chemistry with one another.”

“Yeah, the tension was palpable bro,” Sero chimes in, throwing an arm around his waist. “I think you should text him too. He seemed really amusing, and his whole group was a riot.”

Kirishima rolls his eyes at the pun but smiles at them, feeling a new burst of energy in his limbs.

“You guys are absolutely right! Worst case, he blocks me. At least I won’t have any regrets.”

“Yeah boy, get it with that optimism.”

Bakugou wakes up to a slight headache, a mouth that tastes like ash, and a profound sadness that settles atop his sternum, weighing him down and pressing him into his mattress.

He sees the glass of water on his bedside table with ibuprofen placed neatly next to it and downs them both without so much as a second thought. As his brain slowly comes back online, he takes a moment to finally navigate his messy feelings and comes to a crushing realization-

Kirishima doesn’t have to text him anymore.

The redhead had said that he’d leave him alone after making it up to him, and yes, it was Bakugou’s standoffish nature that got them into that situation in the first place. And yes, Bakugou had paid the tab mostly because it was too high a bill to be footed by the bar and Bakugou made bank, but also because a small, minuscule part of him hoped that the gesture would make Kirishima insist on another outing or something to ‘make it up to him'.

The blonde doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the fact that he forgave Kirishima almost two days into texting him.

He almost avoids his phone out of fear alone and makes it through a whole cup of coffee and 3 chapters into a novel recommended by Deku before finally picking up his phone to check for emails and notifications.

He expects none from Kirishima.

So, of course, there are 3 from the redhead.

Bakugou’s heart leaps to his throat and he can’t seem to unlock his phone quite fast enough.

fuck he’s cute hi Bakugou, thank you for coming last night!!!

fuck he’s cute it was actually really cool 2 finally meet you. U didn’t have to pay the tab tho :’D

fuck he’s cute bt since u did, I still owe u. can we figure it out later??? Also, what did you think of the place???

Bakugou dumbass

Bakugou you’ve got a swanky place, I’ll give you that. Food was fucking good too. could be spicier.

Bakugou you got cam completely hooked

Bakugou and yeah, you better make it up to me later. Asshole.

Kirishima replies a few hours later, just as Bakugou finishes up a yoga routine that stretches out his back in the best way possible.

fuck he’s cute :D :D :D :D :D

fuck he’s cute can’t wait

fuck he’s cute <image attached>

fuck he’s cute ruby says hi

It’s a selfie this time, not a picture of just the kitty. Bakugou can appreciate how cute the mutt is, but for once, he has no attention to spare her. Not when Kirishima’s eyes are crinkling around the edges from how hard he smiles up at the camera, not when he’s wearing a tank top with relaxed arm holes, showing off bulging muscles and hints of ink, and not when just the mere thought of him makes Bakugou’s stomach flop around uncontrollably.

He barely manages to reply coherently.

Bakugou the only bright spot in this shitty world

He presses his phone to his forehead and quietly contemplates just how gay he is. Camie pets his head on the way to the kitchen.

It takes Bakugou some time to get used to waking up to Good Morning texts and a stream of random thoughts from Kirishima all day. The flutter in his stomach disappears a few weeks into talking to the redhead, instead replaced by a bone-deep warmth that always manages to make him feel a little better.

dumbass kirishima GOOOOOOOD MORNING :D

dumbass Kirishima someone threw up on my fave shoes last night

Bakugou HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Bakugou suffer

dumbass Kirishima y u so mean to me ☹ ☹

Bakugou cause its fuckin hilarious

dumbass Kirishima ☹

Bakugou ugh

Bakugou <image attached> [it’s a picture of Bakugou’s balcony, and all his plants look vibrant green as the sun hits them just right]

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima legit felt my serotonin just spike

dumbass Kirishima thxxxxxx

Bakugou whatever

Bakuguo dumbass

---

Bakugou if I plan a murder can I count on your stupid muscles to help me move the body

dumbass Kirishima D:

dumbass Kirishima at least take me out to dinner b4 involving me in your crimes

dumbass Kirishima what a lack of manners

Bakugou stfu

dumbass Kirishima :”D :”D

dumbass Kirishima youre joking right?

dumbass Kirishima right??

dumbass Kirishima RIGHT?????

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU THIS IS A BAD TIME TO LEAVE ME HANGING BRO DO NOT DO THIS

Bakugou don’t call me bro

dumbass Kirishima THAT IS NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW

Bakugou lol I didn’t do shit dumbass don’t worry

Bakugou or did I?

dumbass Kirishima BAKUGOU NO

---

dumbass Kirishima <image attached> [it’s a gym selfie; Kirishima is crouching in front of the mirror shirtless, hair pulled into a bun atop his head. He’s glistening with sweat, and he’s got a more serious look on his face. He’s not actively flexing any muscle, but the pose makes his thighs, calves and biceps bulge. One hand holds the phone, the other is resting on his bent knee]

dumbass Kirishima working on deez gainz

Bakugou what time do you usually workout

dumbass Kirishima depends on my schedule actually

dumbass Kirishima I prefer the morning, but when I take the late night shift I usually go be4 work the next day

Bakugou hmmm

Bakugou let me know

Bakugou maybe we can go together

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D :D

Bakugou ugh I changed my mind

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D :D

dumbass Kirishima no takebacksies

Bakugou fucking fantastic

dumbass Kirishima :D :D :D

---

“So, let me get this straight- you guys gym together at least once a week, you talk every day, your stomach flutters at the mere thought of him and Cam swears he’s making googly eyes at you all the time, and you still haven’t asked each other out yet?”

Bakugou flips his phone off, “Fuck off Deku, don’t be a little shit.”

Midoriya’s face morphs into an amused smile on the other end of their facetime call, “Are you being bashful Kacchan? That’s adorable.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“NOOOOO,” Midoriya bemoans dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m missing all this.”

“Yeah, well, who the fuck told you to teach kids English halfway across the world dumbass?”

“I miss you too Kacchan,” Midoriya beams, making a heart with his hands.

“I truly loathe you.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Midoriya puts a few papers away before sighing. “So?”

“So what?”

“So, are you going to make a move? How do you plan on doing it?”

“I don’t,” Bakugou ruffles his hair and ducks his head to hide his rapidly warming cheeks, “I’m not asking him out Deku, fuck that.”

“Why not?” the asshole whines, eyes wide and innocent. “You deserve happiness Kacchan. Plus, he seems like a really nice guy.” Midoriya leans forward and adds in a whisper, “I’ve heard he has a fantastic butt.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and flips him off again, “Fuck off, you can’t say that without actually meeting him.”

“I’ll be back before then. You guys better be dating already when I get there.”

“Stop telling me what to do, shitty Deku!”

“Never Kacchan, that’s what you do for the people you love.”

“Ugh, how are you so gross when you’re so far away, I hate you.”

Midoriya’s laugh sounds tinny over the phone speaker, lacking its usual body and warmth. Bakugou huffs again before picking his novel back up to read.

“Hi Zuku,” Camie calls out from over Bakugou’s shoulder. “You need to come back soon and help me with Kitkat, he refuses to make the first move!”

“Butt out of my fucking love life, you freaks!”

“Can’t butt out of something that doesn’t exist Kats,” Camie deadpans.

Bakugou feels extremely justified in flinging a stress ball right at her. The kitchen fills up with raucous laughter, from his phone and from the person standing in front of him, and Bakugou thinks that adding a deeper, warmer laugh to the mix, coming from a specific redhead might not be the worst thing in the world.

Kiri bakugouuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Bakugou what?

Kiri just wanted to say hi <3

Bakugou wth

Kiri we still on fr the gym tomorrow?

Bakugou obviously you dumbass

Bakugou I need you to spot me

Bakugou im beating my personal best tomorrow or im going to die trying

Kiri so manly :O :O :O

Kiri I’ve got you bruh

Bakugou don’t call me that

Bakugou and I know you do

Kiri <3 <3

---

Bakugou <link>

Bakugou that playlist you were asking about

Kiri u da bomb katsuki

Bakugou katsuki huh?

Bakugou getting cocky I see

Kiri I mean, weve known each other for like 4 months now???

Kiri ur one of my closest pals

Kiri I don’t have to, I just thought ud like it more than bro

Bakugou I do like it more than bro

Bakugou eijirou

Bakugou I guess ur not terrible

Eijirou ????

Eijirou did you just?? pay me????? A compliment??

Eijirou who r u and wat have you done to katsuki?

Bakugou fuck you

Bakugou just fuck you

Eijirou <3 <3 <3

Bakugou wakes up one morning, approximately 5 months after meeting Kirishima for the first time, with a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His work goes smoothly. The coffee tastes potent and fresh, his body feels fine, his plants are thriving, Camie is busy with her own deadlines and therefore not bugging him, even the sun is mellow and warm; the perfect weather.

The pit in his stomach worsens with every hour.

It doesn’t help that all of his messages to Kirishima have gone unanswered; he hasn’t even been online all day. In the months that they’ve communicated, he’s never gone a day without texting the man, and now it’s like he fell off the face of the Earth.

When it gets closer to 6 in the evening, Bakugou decides to call if Kirishima doesn’t get in touch himself. Because the pit in his stomach is making him nauseous, and he needs to know if the redhead is ok if only for the sake of his own damn health.

He gets a call from an unknown number at 5:20 in the evening. The pit in his stomach becomes a yawning chasm as he picks up the call.

“Hello?”

“Bakugou, it’s Ashido, from the bar.”

Bakugou pulls in a deep breath. “Where is Kirishima?”

“Um, there was an incident last night, at Riot.” She sighs deeply before continuing, “Kiri got jumped in the alley outside by a bunch of really drunk homophobic assholes that saw him turn down some guy’s number. He actually fought them off for the most part, but he’s sustained a broken nose and some fractured ribs. We’re at the hospital right now.”

Bakugou sinks to the ground, his stomach plummeting with him. “Are you fucking serious right now? Fuck-“

“I’ll text you the hospital details, ok? I’m sorry we didn’t call sooner, between talking to his moms and the hospital folks, it slipped my mind.”

“I’ll be there,” Bakugou says, standing up on shaky feet and stumbling back to his room. “Just don’t leave him alone.”

“Never in a million years.”

They hang up and Bakugou changes, hails a cab, and gets to the hospital in a complete daze.

His affection for the redhead, brimming and spilling from every crevice, makes itself evident when he lays eyes on him in the hospital bed and feels a surge of protectiveness. He wants to kill the people that did this, he wants to gather Kirishima in his arms and hold him tight, he wants to crawl into bed with him and talk about stupid shit and see him smile again.

“He’s pretty high on pain meds right now,” Ashido says from somewhere behind him, pointing to his IV lines, “so he’s been saying really funny stuff. The doctors did a full evaluation and said he should recover completely in 5ish weeks.”

Bakugou nods and swallows thickly. Ashido squeezes his arm before leaving the hospital room, shutting the door behind her softly.

Kirishima hasn’t seen him yet, so Bakugou approaches his bed carefully before placing a hand on the guardrail. The noise pulls Kirishima’s attention towards him, and Bakugou’s gut tightens when those large, warm eyes go completely soft at the sight of him.

“Kassaki~” Kirishima slurs, his smile large and dopey.

“You absolute dumbass,” Bakugou chokes out, his hand moving from the rail to grip Kirishima’s tightly. Kirishima’s fingers twine with his own with practised ease and his smile turns gooey.

“Hi Kats, you look beautiful today.”

Bakugou half-laughs, half-sobs and rubs his eyes fiercely. Kirishima’s face is a bit bruised, and there’s a huge bandage on his nose, but he doesn’t look nearly as bad as Bakugou had first feared. The pit in his stomach finally calms, slowly loosening until he can breathe normally again.

“Shut up Eiji,” Bakugou grumbles, sitting down on the chair beside the bed. He leaves his hand in Kirishima’s.

“Ok,” Kirishima agrees easily. It takes 10 seconds for him to break the silence again.

“Hey Kats?”

“What?”

“Are we dating?”

Bakugou startles at that, eyes snapping over to Kirishima’s. He doesn’t look accusatory or hurt or weirded out or anything- merely curious.

“No, we’re not.”

“Oh.” Kirishima frowns, “Why not?”

Bakugou huffs out a small laugh, “Because we’re both idiots.”

“Oh,” the redhead says, then nods. “That kinda tracks.”

“HEY!”

Kirishima’s smile becomes dopey again, eyes crinkling in the most endearing way.

“I really like you Kats. You’re so smart and funny and you always smell like fabric softener, and you’re just like. Really pretty.”

Bakugou feels his face heat up completely, his grip on Kirishima’s hand tightening.

“Just rest, you dumbass,” Bakugou says weakly, his entire body too hot for comfort. He watches Kirishima’s smile become something warm and loving in a way that hits his heart, and he doesn’t let go of the redhead’s hand, right up until the end of visiting hours.

When he exits the hospital alongside Ashido, he feels the last of his energy drain.

“I cant believe we didn’t get to him sooner,” Ashido mumbles, rubbing at her eyes fiercely. “The bar was noisy, and he just wanted to dump out some trash. Hanta noticed he was gone a while before we went out back and found him punching the last dude.”

Bakugou purses his lips. Truth be told, he cant believe Kirishima had gotten so badly hurt so close to his own bar, and he’s pissed as fuck that the idiot brigade had even let it happen, but the sincerity in Ashido’s voice tugs at his chest painfully.

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Bakugou laughs humorlessly. “He’ll probably say there’s nothing to forgive in the first place.”

Ashido’s laugh is hollow, “That’s our Eijirou.” She looks at Bakugou again. “You coming tomorrow?”

He flashes her his best sneer. “You best believe I’m going to come by every single fucking day till he’s discharged.”

Ashido’s smile becomes a little more genuine, a little more well-rounded.

“I’m really glad he has you.” Her voice goes all soft and gross as she continues, “You mean a LOT to him, in case you didn’t already know.”

“Fuck off,” Bakugou mumbles, before waving her off and walking away.

Because he does know.

He also knows he’s falling madly in love with him, and that he’s completely and utterly screwed.

And he finds that he really doesn’t mind all that much. Some people, he rationalizes, are worth the horrible butterflies and the too hot too cold feelings down the back of his spine.

Some people, he realizes, are worth loving with everything you’ve got.

It takes Kirishima five weeks of house arrest to recover completely. Bakugou spends every weekday and a few of the weekends with him, staying over more often than not. He fusses over the redhead, forces him to take his medication on time, and cooks him everything under the sun.

“You’re spoiling me,” the redhead whines when Bakugou serves him what smells like the best mapo tofu he’s ever going to have.

The blonde grins triumphantly, “You’re damn right I am.”

They bicker and banter constantly, but they also curl up and marathon old bond movies at night. Kirishima goes over the bar’s paperwork while Bakugou works off his couch, and they take turns making the coffee. Ruby falls in love with Bakugou and curls up on his chest every chance she gets, and Bakugou laughs at Kirishima’s look of betrayal. The redhead’s couch is ridiculously comfortable, and he leaves his memory foam pillow with the blonde.

“You refuse to take my bed,” he grumbles, “so you damn well better accept my stupid pillow.”

Bakugou’s neck thanks the redhead profusely.

It’s new and weird, living with someone for the first time. Kirishima’s posse are in and out through the day, and Camie comes by just as often, bringing a change of clothes and gossip with her. Todoroki drops in with some high-quality tequila sometimes and Inasa brings his infectious energy, and through all of this, Kirishima remains in high spirits, even if he goes a little stir crazy sometimes.

It’s new and it’s weird, going from casual touches to more loving ones, more comforting ones. It becomes commonplace for Bakugou to rest his head between Kirishima’s shoulder blades on the days that he has a bad time at work. It’s normal for Kirishima to place his head on Bakugou’s lap while they watch shark documentaries. It’s easy for them to bump knees and press their calves together while enjoying their morning coffee.

It’s new and it’s weird and it’s amazing.

Because Bakugou finds himself falling in love with the little things. The way Kirishima sticks his tongue out when he’s smashing the PS5 controller during an especially intense game of Mario party, the way he makes the coffee with a sleepy smile on his face, the way he hums off-key to a song that’s stuck in his head, the way he can understand Bakugou- can differentiate between his frustrated fuck, his bashful fuck, his angry fuck, his sleepy fuck.

And how he accepts it all without so much as a hitch in his step.

Bakugou watches himself fall in love, slowly, and then all at once.

“How is it that he lived with you for almost 5 weeks and you STILL didn’t ask him out? Or kiss him stupid? Or something?”

Sero has a finger pinching the bridge of his nose, the other flexing loosely in front of his chest as he tries to fathom the stupidity of two people that could not be more into each other if they tried.

“I, I uh-“ Kirishima hangs his head, “I have no excuse.” He sighs deeply. “I was scared he’d give me a pity answer cause I was injured and everything.”

Ashido looks over her shoulder with incredulous eyes. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Eiji, I know you love us so like, if any of us were hurt like this you’d take care of us till we were better too. But do you think someone like BAKUGOU would practically move into someone’s house to make sure they were ok if he wasn’t nuts about them? Really?”

Kirishima’s face flushes, and he waves her away. “I don’t want to read into it. He’s just a really, really, really good guy. And what we have is good, it’s great! We’re bros. Pals. Friends. It’s all good.”

Ashido continues to stare at him for another moment before throwing her hands up and yelling, “BOYS!” She stomps into the kitchen to help Satou with prep for the day.

They continue to stock up the bar, Kirishima assigned to prepping limes and the ice machine, when the door opens and someone steps in.

“Sorry, we’re not op- Bakugou?”

And there stands the blonde with the biggest bouquet of flowers – chrysanthemums and sunflowers – that Kirishima has ever seen. The redhead distantly hears the sound of a door close behind him, and suddenly they’re alone, the tension positively stifling.

“Bakugo-“

“Go on a date with me.”

Kirishima sucks in a startled breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Go on a date. With me,” Bakugou repeats, his neck and ears tinging the loveliest shade of red. “The romantic kind. Where we dress up and get food and drinks and fight over the bill and walk each other to the door and get super awkward before we kiss. All that shit.”

Kirishima isn’t sure how it happens- one moment he’s on this side of the bar, the next, he’s jumping across and gathering Bakugou into a tight embrace, mindful of his newly healed ribs but still unwilling to release the blonde until Bakugou returns his hug, burying his face into Kirishima’s chest.

“Is that a yes?” Bakugou mumbles when they finally pull away, his hands fisted in Kirishima’s shirt.

“In every possible language out there,” Kirishima answers, ducking down to softly kiss Bakugou on the cheek. He laughs as the blonde cusses and shoves him away and laughs even harder when Bakugou’s own smile covers his entire face, bright and open and oh so breathtaking.

That smile is Kirishima’s and Kirishima’s alone.

Eiji hiiiiiiiiiiii

Bakugou I swear to god Ei

Bakugou if you’re late for our first date I will find you

Eiji and give me a kiss? :*

Bakugou I don’t kiss people that don’t have good time management

Bakugou so fuck off

Eiji still so mean to me ☹

Eiji I want that kiss tho

Eiji so ill be ready

Eiji promise

Bakugou good

Eiji <3

Bakugou <3

Eiji :D :D :D :D :D :D

Eiji YOU LIKE ME ENOUGH TO SEND EMOJIS HU H <3333

Bakugou it will never happen again

Bakugou so fuck right off

Eiji :”D

Bakugou im outside

Eiji be right there

Eiji <3

#bnha #kiribaku #bakushima #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #flustered #boku no hero #mha #they're idiots your honor #giving out the wrong number au???#if that's a thing??????#this one's a monster y'all

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mirclealignr · 4 years

Note

Hello! could you write a Remus x reader where they've been dating for some time and they are basically the parents of their friend group? like a lot of fluff stuff

Thank you Anon, for this wonderful request. I hope you like it💘

Forever | r.l

remus x fem!reader

requested by: Anon

warnings; drinking, alcohol

word count; 1200+

- - -

“Tonight? We have to, it’s the weekend. Before Halloween. We have to!” Sirius begs his friends for the party he’s been so desperately wanting for weeks. It was Saturday morning and you were sitting next to Remus, your boyfriend, eating breakfast, while Sirius pleads his case.

“You just want to get smashed,” Remus laughed.

“That’s the point,” he smiles, “Come on, please?” He bats his eyelashes.

“I will,” James chimes in.

“Yeah!” Peter says excitedly.

“Oh fine,” Lily concedes.

They all look to you and Remus. You look to him, silently searching for his answer.

“Okay,” you relent. Neither you or Remus were the type to get drunk, but you didn’t mind it when your friends did. It was just spending time with them that you liked. And the two of you had gotten quite used to the routine of getting them to bed afterwards. Everytime, it went a little quicker. You were nearly pros at it.

Later that night, Sirius pulled out three bottles of fire whiskey from beneath his bed.

“I’ve been saving it,” he says innocently. You roll your eyes.

“That better not just be for you,” you tease.

“Of course it is, I’m no lightweight,” he teases back.

“Ha! No lightweight? You’re having a laugh,” Remus grins, earning a glare from Sirius, even though he knows that Remus is right. He just doesn’t like to hear it spoken out loud. The six of you head towards your spot at the black lake, kitted out with food, alcohol and blankets. It was dusk, the sun was nearly down and the stars were shimmering on the sky’s surface. The temperature was cooling, but not enough to deter the lot of you. The night was beckoning you in.

“Perfect night,” you whisper.

“It is,” Remus replies.

“Woo!” Sirius shouts, opening a bottle and throwing the others to James and Peter, ready to start their night of fun. And it doesn’t take long before the four of them are stumbling over, their legs giving way beneath them and their words slurring. You and Remus watch as it all unfolds, enjoying each other’s company, and the show you have before you. Sirius makes his way over to Remus and you, careful not to fall over on his way there.

“You know, I really love you guys. Not just- not just you, but you together. You’re so adorable,” he grins, slinging his arm around the two of you, pulling you down to the ground.

“Thank you Sirius,” you say genuinely, knowing he means what he says. He laughs in response, a little confused.

“Hey James, we’re missing the fun,” Lily shouts, pointing to the three of you on the floor.

“Ah bugger, I’ll race you,” he says, running towards you. Lily runs straight after him, pulling at his clothes to get the upper hand. James tackles her hand away but stumbles and crashes to the floor. Lily’s reflexes, compromised by the fire whiskey and adrenaline, are too slow to react, earning her fall, right on top of him. Remus, you and Sirius erupt in fits of laughter and Peter turns around, looking hopelessly at what he had missed. To your surprise, Lily gets herself back up and starts running again, and James is not far behind. Seeking revenge, James pushes Lily, who falls completely and totally onto you, knocking the wind out of you. And once again, James is not far behind, increasing the pain.

“Merlin! Get off me!” You shout.

“I can’t,” Lily giggles uncontrollably, “James won’t move,”

“Yeah because you won’t!” He fires back.

“You have to move first, you blithering idiot!” She shouts.

“Oh right, right yeah,” he says getting off. Lily then removes herself from you too. For the next hour or so, you all lay on the grass, blankets under you, protecting you from the damp grass. You’re stargazing. Remus intertwines his hand with yours, rubbing his thumb over your skin. You nuzzle further into him and he rests his head on yours.

“We should probably get going,” he whispers to you.

“I know, just five more minutes. I like being here with you,” you say

He gently kisses the top of your head, conceding “Okay,” he could never deny you.

It was a struggle to get the others to leave. You finally convinced them by saying you’d make each of them a hot chocolate when you got back. It worked a treat. The two of you knew that by the time they’d made it to the dorm, they’d forget all about the notion of a hot chocolate anyway. You both made sure that none of them fell, that they made it safely up all the stairs and watched their step climbing through the portrait. You walked Lily up to the girls’ dorm room, and Remus was left tending to the three boys.

You helped Lily climb into bed, listening to whatever half finished sentences she was spouting out, nodding and agreeing. You pulled the blankets up over her.

“Thank you Y/n, you’re a great friend. Remus is lucky to have someone like you,” she smiles, drifting off to sleep. You smile back, leaving the room. You walk towards the boys’ dormitory and knock before entering.

“Yeah it’s alright,”. Remus confirms through the door.

Peter is already lightly snoring in his own bed. James and Sirius however, are putting up a fight.

“Will you take James?” Remus asks, pleadingly. You nod and head over to James who’s looking out the window. You tap him lightly on the shoulder. He turns to look at you before looking out the window again.

“I like the stars, they’re so pretty. Like Lily,” he says dreamily. You can’t help but smile, he really does love her.

“They are, but if you don’t go to bed, you won’t be able to see Lily in the morning,” you say, careful to only mention morning.

“I won’t?” He asks, afraid. He rushes over to his bed and wraps the covers tightly around him. “You’re right, I have to go to sleep to see Lily in the morning,”

You walk over to Remus who’s finally gotten Sirius into bed. You wrap your arms around his waist from behind, taking in his smell and resting your cheek against his back. He leans into you, before turning around, hugging you back.

“Job well done, wouldn’t you say?” You ask, smiling.

“Yeah, we did good,” he says.

“All four children, tucked nicely into bed,” you giggle.

“Yes,” He says releasing you before taking your hand and leading you to his bed, “Our four little nuisances,” he smiles. You watch as he pulls back the covers and fluffs up the pillow for you. He strolls back over to you and takes you by the shoulders, leading you towards the bed. You climb in, accepting his wishes and pull the covers up over you, revelling in the warmth they bring. He walks over to his side of the bed, and you’re happy that you can say such a thing. His side. You have sides. He climbs in next to you and pulls you in close, your back pressed up against him, and his arms around your torso. He buries his face in between your shoulder and neck, his breath tickling your skin.

“Can we stay like this forever?” he asks, sleepily.

“Forever is a long time,” you say sliding your feet towards his, “But forever with you isn’t long enough."

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sillyfeathers · 3 years

Text

Personal Schmuck (Eleanor x Simone)

Personal Schmuck Characters: Eleanor Shellstrop, Simone Garnett (romantic)

Simone’s acting distant, and Eleanor’s having none of it.

Warnings: fluff, lil relationship troubles, chidi slander /j Words: 848

A/N: second pride fic goes to my beloved comfort ship <3 enjoy

Since Eleanor and Simone had become official, there’d been a sort of…tension. Eleanor couldn’t label it as good or bad, and it wasn’t some sort of sexual or ‘will they won’t they’ kind of thing. It was just there. This little thing hanging between them that made Simone’s smiles look a little too tight, and had Eleanor shifting in her seat whenever they went out together.

This tension, Eleanor later learned with crushing relief, was nothing to do with her, specifically. It was, as Simone put it, “personal schmuck”.

Still, Eleanor wasn’t sure where they stood. Couples were supposed to talk about the schmuck, right? Unpack the suitcase, unload the baggage, rip off the bandaid. Thing is, Eleanor wasn’t much for all of that. She’d always been more of a living out of the suitcase type.

Eleanor tried to be the supportive girlfriend, filling their time together with rambles and endless chatter about everything and anything, trying to unfurrow Simone’s brow and, at the very least, elicit a forced smile from her. The last straw came when Simone stopped smiling.

“And Chidi, moral jackass, went on this rant about— ” Eleanor cut herself off. Endearing digs at Chidi always got some sort of reaction out of Simone, but this time, there was nothing.

“Hot stuff, hey, where’d you go?” Eleanor waved her hand before Simone’s eyes, which seemed to be focused on some point in the distance. Simone shook her head slightly, blinking Eleanor back into focus.

“Sorry, babe,” she laughed, but her voice was shaky.. “Just — lost in thought.”

Eleanor found her mouth opening and closing like a fish, searching for the words to say while simultaneously treading a line she couldn’t see.

“Simone, babe, come on.” Eleanor punctuated her sentence with a nudge to her girlfriend’s side, and Simone nearly broke her wrist.

“What. Was. That?” Finally, Simone was grinning, mischief written between her smile lines.

“You’ve been out of it, dude, I just wanted to make you laugh or something,” Eleanor mumbled, biting a grin back as she tried to shift away from her now very alert girlfriend.

“Did you? Or did you just want me to tickle you?”

Eleanor let out a sound somewhere between a cough and a yell, hands flailing as Simone straddled her, pinning her to the sofa. “Wehell, it worked — wait, nohoho!”

Simone’s hands latched onto Eleanor’s sides, rapidly squeezing and shifting the position of her thumbs ever so slightly, making Eleanor jerk with every touch. “Did you just admit to tricking me into tickling you?”

“NOHOHO, I meant — this is avoidahance!” Eleanor shrieked, hammering the sofa cushions with her fists. Simone’s hands were creeping up her sides, thumbs vibrating between Eleanor’s ribs while her fingers probed at the spots on the curve between her back and torso. Simone had uncovered Eleanor’s ticklishness long before they started dating — now they simply had more time together for her to exploit it. Eleanor’s laughter was in its giggling stage, where her face scrunched up and she gasped whenever a snort poked through.

“You should’ve just asked, y’know — shame you get so embarrassed, huh.” Simone’s teasing was driving Eleanor to the brink of insanity. She’d never been one for religion, but when she felt hands spidering down towards her hips, she sent a prayer out into the universe that, if nothing else, this would break the tension.

That was the last coherent thought she had before she felt thumbs drilling into the divots of her hips, and all was taken over by the unbearable ticklishness of Simone’s evilly effective fingers.

Once Eleanor’s laughter devolved into her signature gurgles, Simone relented, sitting back into the cushions with a smug grin. It took a moment for Eleanor to catch her breath and sit up, her glare softened by her giant smile.

“You’re a cruel, cruel woman,” Eleanor said, “and I am absolutely using this as a free pass to talk about your issues.” She was still smiling, but her tone shifted on the last few words, indicating a genuine concern

Simone took a breath in. “Look — my job takes up a lot of time, and I didn’t realise just how much time it took up until we started dating. I don’t want to screw this up, Eleanor. You’re really cool, and I like you. A lot.”

There was a moment of silence as Eleanor’s concerned smile grew to a smirk. “You like me,” she teased, winking dramatically. Simone scoffed.

“Eleanor, babe, you’re practically begging me to get you again,” she said, chuckling affectionately at the way her girlfriend shrunk back into the cushions. She patted the space next to her, arms open. “C'mere.”

Not needing to be asked twice, Eleanor was by her side in a matter of moments, the two squeezing together in the small space the sofa provided.

“No more Simone who doesn’t laugh at my cool stories?” Eleanor asked, her voice muffled a little by Simone’s shirt.

“No more Simone who doesn’t point out why your stories aren’t that cool,” Simone conceded, earning a muffled snort.

“Deal.”

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castielific · 4 years

Text

The list

AO3 Link

Tags: Supernatural, Destiel, Alternate Ending, Canon Compliant (up to 15x10), Human!Castiel, First kiss Summary:

Once there are no more monsters, the only thing left to fight for is happiness.

Here is my take on our boys’ happy ending. I hope you’ll enjoy it.

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

"I hate you", Dean grumbles into his elbows. His arms are on the table, his head buried into it as he squeezes his hands over his ears.

"I think he’s getting better," Sam lies, hiding his grimace just in time so that Dean doesn’t see it when he raises his head to glare at him.

Dean opens his mouth, but is cut off by a particularly shrill note that makes him feel like someone is drilling right into his tympans. Even Sam can't help but squeeze his fists in pain, crumbling the edge of the book he's trying to read.

"'This would be good for you, Castiel'," Dean says, imitating Sam. "What about us, Sam? This doesn't feel good for us!"

"It's not so bad," Sam offers miserably.

Yes it is. It's even worse than bad. Dean flinches in pain at every horrible noise that resounds all around the bunker as Cas continues to play - or more like, tries to play - what Dean thinks is supposed to be 'Twinkle twinkle little star' on his newly acquired violin.

Truth is, it is all Sam's fault. Dean can't ressent him that much though, because the look on Castiel's face when they went to the music store was worth the torture they've been enduring for the last two days.

Since God has been defeated, they've all been having a serious case of cabin fever. Heaven and Hell have closed up their doors, angels and demons alike running home with their tails between their legs. Even the common monsters have gone into hiding. Apparently the Winchesters killing God has impressed them enough that they've all decided that they better keep quiet. Of course, they're still there, but smart enough not to do anything that might attract the wrath of the hunters. Apparently, they are exceptionally good at hiding when they want to because the only case the brothers have had in the last six months had been a rogue vampire that went on a rampage. He was still young and out of control. It took three hours to take him down, the whole deal was done in less than a day, even counting the drive.

In short, hunting has become boring. All they've had to keep them busy have been some random salt and burn, nothing exciting. The rest of the time, they've stayed cooped up in the Bunker and it didn't take long for them to go crazy. Each in their own personal way.

For his part, Sam has gone a little too far on his healthy lifestyle penchant, to the point that it became borderline unhealthy: Running up to three hours a day and eating nothing but vegetable smoothies. It lasted two months before he realized that all it was doing was giving him diarrhea and making his shins look like basketball. So now he's taken to digitizing and translating every book in their library….which sounds as exciting as getting all your teeth pulled out, if you were to ask Dean, but at least it passes the time.

Dean's way of coping was on the polar opposite as his brother's: he decided it was as good a time as any to learn to cook better. Dean has always loved cooking and has been having a blast since they found the bunker. For the first time of his life, he has a home and a kitchen of his own. Until now, between the Amara, the Men of Letters, and all that crap with God, he never had time to really enjoy it, limiting himself to the few recipes he already knew: burgers, steak, and breakfast food. With the hunting gig slowing down though, he had all the time in the world to try his hand at more ambitious things like roast, chili, lasagna and way too many pies.

His personal wake up call came when he tried to put on clothes one morning and couldn't find any pants that fitted him anymore.They hadn't had a case for three weeks, and he had to admit that he became a little too familiar with sweatpants. When confronted with the terrible truth of his every single one of his jeans being suddenly too small, he had no other choice: he spent the whole day dismantling the dryer to find out why it was shrinking all his clothes. Sam had a blast mocking him and Castiel, with his usual discretion, was quite pointedly avoiding looking at Dean's stomach during that conversation. Dean spent a long time in front of the mirror after that. He regrettably had to admit that his stomach resembled more Father Christmas's belly than David Beckham's abs at this point. He started to follow Sam's health routine the very next day. Or, tried to, at least. It didn't last long before he couldn't take the smoothie torture anymore, and decided that limiting his pie intake to two per week and doing some exercise should be enough.

Sam and him actually came to an agreement on food after that, and while Dean would never ever drink a kale smoothie again, it actually wasn't so bad to add a little more salad to his plate.

All in all, it was a difficult time for everyone, but especially for Castiel.

Castiel used to be an angel with a Godly purpose, a mission grander than anything people could even imagine. Then suddenly Chuck was gone, and the angels were gone too, and he just became a puny human with no real purpose, a soldier of God with no God to serve and no war to fight. Easy to say that he quickly joined Dean in his sweatpants' aficionados club. Except where Dean was happy to indulge in a laziness that he never really had a chance to try out before, Cas soon fell into depression. Even the best pies Dean made seemed tasteless to him after a time. He was lost in a human routine that he could find no pleasure in. It came to a point where he didn't even sleep in his own bed anymore, never leaving the couch except to satisfy the most basic needs. Sadly, on most days, showers didn't seem to be considered as one of those needs.

Once they had their breakthrough about their own miserable situations, the Winchesters decided to tackle their new mission: helping Cas.

It was Sam who proposed that they should all write a list of things they always wanted to do, but never had time for.

They took a trip to the Grand Canyon on the very next day, dragging a reticent Castiel along. Their road trip lasted nearly a month, because they kept getting distracted by new destinations. Sam wanted to see the Harold Washington Library, Dean wanted to go to Baltimore to go to the Dangerously Delicious Pies shop he heard about while searching for new pies recipes, and so on.

Castiel never asked to see anything, pretending gloomily that he used to be able to go anywhere in a flap of his wings, and therefore had seen everything he ever wanted too. Dean dragged him to an amusement park anyway, because he was pretty sure the angel had never been on a rollercoaster before. Dean regretted that pretty fast when Cas became strangely fond of them, saying that it reminded him of flying. They took so many rides that Dean threw up and Sam's nose bled for nearly one hour after.

Still, it seemed like a wake up call for Cas. He spent the rest of the drive home lost in his thoughts or scribbling a list on the back of a gas station's receipt. He even asked them to stop in Utah on the way back to see the largest bee hives in the US. They ended up buying so many types of honey that they now have a cupboard full of it in the kitchen.

They had been back to the bunker for two days when Cas declared he wanted to learn how to play an instrument. They went to a music store, where Castiel tried on every instrument from a harmonica to a full drum set. After the obligatory harps jokes, Dean tries to entice him to buy a guitar, and learn all the best Zep songs. Cas was too polite and knew better than to criticize Dean's taste in music, so he chose the guitar. Dean wasn't oblivious to the way his friend kept lingering in front of a black violin though, so he relented and bought that instead.

He's sorely regretting it now.

It's still totally Sam's fault though, he was the one to come up with the idea of this stupid list in the first place.

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

"I've decided what I want," Castiel declares as soon as the movie's credit starts rolling about a month later.

Sam snorts, waking up from the doze he'd fallen into. He blinks at them, wiping his eyes tiredly.

"I said no cat, Cas," Dean reminds. Apparently, one of Cas' item on his stupid list is to get a pet.

"I don't want a cat."

"I'm allergic to animal's hair," Dean reminds him, suspicious. Last night Cas declared he wanted a Camel. A freaking camel.

"Of course, Dean, your health comes first," Cas concedes amicably. "Although, I do wonder if you're not using this as an excuse, and would not have been amenable to adopt a pet anyway, were it not the case."

Dean scratches under his ear. "What? No. Of course, I'd want one. I love animals. Just, no snakes or anything that eats living food. I know you, and you would just end up saving all the mice or something."

"You know, they do make hairless cats and dogs," Sam pipes up, smirking when Dean sends him a side glare.

"Those are majestic creatures, indeed, Sam, but I much prefer the softness of fur. Don't you Dean?"

"What." What kind of question is that?

"Wouldn't you like it if you could have a pet with a soft fur that didn't make you sneeze and suffer so much?"

"Huh. I guess?"

"Good," Cas concludes with a jut of his chin. "His name is Honey," Cas announces, raising the kilt that was on his lap to reveal a…

"What the hell is that thing?" Dean shouts, jumping to his feet.

"Honey is a texel guinea pig," Cas says, cuddling the little beast to his chest. The pet starts emitting a little noise in pleasure as Castiel caresses his fur. It has long curly hair. Its head is black with a white spot on the top while the rest of its body is a mismatch of large black, white and orange spots.

"It looks like a freaking sheep!" Dean exclaims, sending a betrayed look to his brother that is already kneeling next to Cas and petting at the small animal.

"See, Sam, we do have a guinea pig now," Cas says proudly, making Sam chuckle at what is obviously a private joke between them.

"We don't have anything! I'm allergic, Cas, remember? My health…," Dean finishes, faking a cough. Sam rolls his eyes while Cas squints at him.

"I don't think you are, Dean. Honey has been on my lap all night and you haven't shown any signs of allergy. I've looked at you closely to make sure."

"Do you think he likes kale?" Sam asks, taking the little beast on his own lap as he sits on the ground.

"I think he might, Sam. The internet says guinea pigs need to eat a lot of vegetables. Do you want us to go and try to feed him some?"

"Yes!" Sam declares, squeezing delicately the pet against his chest as he gets up.

"But-," Dean tries to protest.

"I bought him a little hammock that he really likes," Cas tells Sam as he gets up too.

"But I haven't-"

"That's cute! I want to see it!" Sam says eagerly.

"My allergies…," Dean finishes lamely as he watches the two other men leave the room without a look in his direction. He scowls, staring at the beer he's still holding. He sulks for all of thirty seconds before he grumbles. "Dammit, I want to see the tiny hammock too. Guys, wait for me!"

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

"Oh, that's...that's a nice...tree."

"It's supposed to be Sam," Cas says with a pout, looking at his very first painting.

"Yeah no, I mean, behind him? The big woody thing?"

"That's you," Castiel pouts, looking dejected.

Dean grimaces, inclining his head to try, and identify himself in the glob of paint on the canvas.

"So you're not Van Gogh," Dean finally declares. "Or Mozart. The important thing is that you wanted to give it a try and you did. If you liked doing it, then that's what matters, no matter the end result," Dean tries to reassure, squeezing his friend's shoulder reassuringly. He learned his lesson when his words about Cas' lack of music skill were not so delicate, and the ex-angel ended up giving him the cold shoulder for a whole week.

When he looks back at him, Cas has a small smile on his lips and a look so full of...of something, that Dean can feel his cheeks warming a little. Seconds pass and Cas keeps staring until Dean clears his throat, forcing himself to look back at the ugly painting.

"What's next on your list?"

A hand pulling on his arm makes him turn back toward Castiel. Dean barely has time to react before his friend's lips brush with his. It's so fast and soft that he's left blinking in confusion, wondering if that really happened.

"This was."

Cas is still smiling, even though Dean recognizes the worried line creased between his brows. The hunter opens his mouth, but doesn't know what to say. To say that he wasn't expecting it would be an understatement. To say that he never thought about it, a lie. To say that he regrets it…

"I liked doing it," Cas declares, nodding his head in satisfaction. "Now I want to ride a horse."

"A- a horse?"

"Unless we can still get a camel?" Cas teases, acting hopeful. He sends Dean a wink - a goddamn wink - before he grabs his painting under one arm and leaves the room.

"Ride a...Wait. Cas! We're not getting a horse either! Cas!!"

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

When Dean finds him, Castiel is sitting on the bench Dean made from the trunk of one of the trees they had to cut down to make this space into their garden. The sun hasn't set yet, but the end of september's evenings are already colder. The last flowers of the season are blooming, and the vegetables they planted in the spring are starting to wilt, only a few tomatoes popping red among the green and yellowing stems.

Cas is bending forward, forearms resting on his legs. His eyes are closed and for a minute, Dean is worried that something happened, that he's sad or sick. He's reassured when he hears the low murmur of Cas' words, see the slight smile at the corner of his lips, the one Cas always gets when he's trying to be funny.

His friend hasn't heard him approaching yet, so Dean waits, trying not to eavesdrop on a conversation he's not supposed to be a part of.

Dean takes the time to check on the apple trees he planted instead. They're too young yet, too small to give any fruit, but by next year, maybe...He can't wait to bake a pie with his own apples. He rolls his eyes at the thought, that's so domestic. Yet here he is, planning on planting strawberries and raspberries, checking on the squash that is starting to grow and wondering if it'll be ready by Thanksgiving.

Vegetables are Sam's thing. Flowers and the small hive they've built are Cas'. Dean is in charge of the fruits.

They planted their garden over the underground garage, hidden by such a large ply of trees that there is no risk of anyone stumbling upon it by accident. They had to cut down trees, dig out every root, and plow the whole area to prepare the soil. They've spent nearly all spring and a good part of summer working to create that little bit of garden on the Bunker's roof. They've bought so many gardening tools that they're already making plans to build a shed here in the spring.

It's nice. The bunker is feeling more and more like a home, like a place Dean could feel himself growing old in, maybe.

They've talked about buying a house, especially Sam, but somehow they can't see themselves leaving anywhere else than in the bunker. It's their legacy, the place they were always meant to be, and they've come to love it despite all the horrors that happened there in the past.

Maybe it will change someday. Maybe Sam will want to marry someone, to buy a more traditional place with a white picket fence where he can raise kids without fearing that they'll choose a cursed object or weapon laying around as their next toy. Dean has noticed more and more of Eileen's clothes in the laundry, more of her things left behind every time she comes to visit. He hopes it's only a matter of time before he's not surprised to see her at breakfast anymore.

By the time he's checked on the fruit part of the garden, Cas has stopped praying and is observing him. The sun is setting, painting an orange glow behind him, and for a second it nearly looks like Cas has a hallo.

"You told Jack about the horse riding lesson?" Dean asks as he straddles the bench to sit next to his friend. He rubs his hands against the cold, blowing into them to try and warm them up a little.

"Maybe," Cas says with a mocking smile that makes Dean balks.

"Oh, come on, you promise you wouldn't tell anyone about me falling on my ass!"

Cas chuckles at the memory of Dean's horse throwing him into a giant mud puddle. Dean had cursed for a whole ten minutes as he struggled to stand up but kept falling right back on his ass. It made Cas laugh so much that he'd started crying. That's a thing Cas does now, he laughs. He does it more and more, and Dean is amazed by it, every single time.

"Technically, I didn't tell anyone anything," Cas argues with a smirk. He's not wrong. They have no idea if Jack can even hear their prayers now that he's taken charge of and close up Heaven. That doesn't stop them from regularly praying to him, especially Cas.

"You tell Sam and I'll bury your damn guinea pig next to the tomatoes," Dean threatens.

"No you won't," Cas says with a fond smile.

"No, I won't," Dean admits, pouting half-heartedly. He's actually come to like the damn beast. Which no one would actually know if Honey didn't start screeching every time Dean comes near it, calling for the treat that he knows Dean will give him. It was supposed to be their little secret but Honey blew their cover more than once. Dean is still pretending he hates the little ball of fluff, on principle, even though no one is fooled anymore.

"You were right about the horse, I hadn't realized the amount of dejection it actually produces," Cas concedes. "Also, my bottom is sore from the ride," he adds, squirming a little in his seat.

Dean chokes a little on his saliva at the image that brings to mind. Honestly, even without the innuendo, watching Cas ride a horse, hips rising and bending over the saddle, has done quite a number on Dean's libido. If he hadn't been questioning his sexuality before, he would definitely be now. Good thing he already was. Cas kissing him has been the only thing on his mind for days now. They haven't talked about it, and Cas is acting like it didn't even happen, but Dean has barely slept since then, spending his nights thinking about Cas' lips on his, and how he might possibly maybe want to do that again.

"Did you kiss Sam too?" he blurts out. It's not the most subtle or delicate way to bring up the subject, but apparently that's what his brain has chosen to say. Damn you, brain!

"Why would I kiss Sam?" Cas asks, looking genuinely astounded by the question.

"Wasn't that on your list?" Dean asks, scratching the back of his neck.

Cas squints at him like he's the most idiotic thing he's ever seen and, well, Dean probably is.

Dean squirms under the stare, rubbing his hands again, as much against the cold as in nervousness. The ex angel gives a long suffering sigh before he grabs Dean's wrists. He pulls on his hands until they're under his own sweater. Dean is so startled that he just looks at the bulge his hands are making over Cas' stomach with wide eyes, not daring to move his fingers. They're nestled between Cas' tee-shirt and his abdominal muscles. It's so warm under there that his skin is tingling from the temperature difference.

"You're an idiot, Dean Winchester," Cas declares. Dean looks up, and Cas is looking at him so fondly that it makes him blush a little.

"Yeah," he sighs. "I know."

"I must be one too, because I would very much like you to be my idiot for as long as you would have me," Cas confesses, a little shy as he draws patterns on the shape of Dean's fingers over the tissue of his sweater.

"I'm not sure, Cas," Dean says, making the other man tense up. "Are you sure you want to be stuck with me forever?"

It takes a minute for Cas to get his meaning, brow furrows intensely before they relax in realization.

"That was my plan all along," Cas says, his smile so wide it's showing his gums.

And yeah, knowing Cas, it probably was. Cas would have stayed by Dean's side forever whether he was an angel or a human or even a God. Hell, Cas was ready to stay by his side when Dean was turning into a monster bearing the mark of Cain, and when he was a demon. He wanted to stay by Dean's side even when Dean was cruel and screaming at him to go. It was the irony of it all, wasn't it? It always felt like Cas was leaving him, running away for angel business or whatever, but Dean never ever doubted that he would come back. He always knew Cas would come back somehow. After all, even death could never keep Cas away for long.

Dean slides his hands a little higher, making Cas shiver as they travel over his torso under his shirt. Dean's fingers tightens around the cloth, and pulls Cas closer, close enough that their noses are nearly touching.

"And now it's mine too," Dean sworns,resting his forehead against the other man's. He cradles Cas' jaw, passing a thumb under one of his eyes. The stubborn angel refuses to close them, even though they're so close that he's going cross eyed. Still, he keeps looking right into Dean's green orbits and hell, that must mean Dean can't keep his eyes off Cas either

When they kiss, it's sappy and tender and sweet and everything Dean always thought he could never have. The relief he feels makes Dean wonders if it isn't everything he's been waiting for all along, without even realizing it.

Cas is right by his side, as always, and Dean is damn well going to keep him as close as he can for as long as he possibly can. And hey, he knows the guy ruling Heaven now, so that might just be forever.

The End.

#destiel #deancas #dean/cas #dean/castiel #destiel fic #spn fix it #fic #destiel fix it #ao3 fic #Dean/castiel fanfic

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ais-for-alex · 3 years

Text

The Scars of Our Past: Chapter 17

Did I forget to post this chapter here? Yes. Have I completely forgot which chapters have and haven’t been posted here? Also yes. Sorry I’m not super consistent on the posting here on tumblr tbh I just find it a bit obnoxious to format here so I procrastinate then forget all together. At one point in the future I’ll go through and make sure each chapter is posted and set up a mast list of each but for now it’s probably easiest to read over on ao3. Anyway! Chapter 17! Hope y’all enjoy 🥰 as always these characters belong to @lumosinlove

By the time he made it back to his motel Leo had opened and closed his messenger app at least twenty times. He opened it, typed out a message to Logan but then chickened out and deleted it. There were things that needed to be said after he and Logan had toed the point of no return together. They needed to talk, needed to stabilize the ground beneath their feet before they fell into a sinkhole of regret, but it seemed like Logan didn’t want to talk.

OLeo jiggled the key in the old frozen lock on his door until it relented opening with a click, once inside he leaned against the closed door and opened his messenger one more time.

(You): Look I know things are probably weird now, I’m so sorry I never meant for that to happen. Please know that I still want to be your friend, I know we haven’t known each other that long but Logan, you’ve become so important to me. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore but please, but if you do, text me or call hell I’d settle for carrier pigeon if that’s what you want. If you don’t want to talk to me though I’ll respect that decision.

Leo pressed send before he could chicken out again and quickly put his phone on Do Not Disturb too nervous to see what or even if Logan would respond. He shuffled forward into the dark room flicking on the light switch as he passed, the fluorescent bulb flickered and buzzed, illuminating the room in a shuddering light that made Leo’s eyes hurt. The dingy wallpaper was stained yellow from the nicotine of who knows how many occupants cigarette smoke, Leo sighed again and laid back on his bed, his eyes staring at the popcorn ceiling.

See this is why you don’t get attached. This is why you weren’t supposed to let anyone else get close, because the moment you do you’re destined to lose them again.

Leo hated this place. He hated that stupid popcorn ceiling he stared at every night, he hated the yellowing walls, and the flickering lights. He hated that no matter how high he turned up the heater, his room was rarely warmer than the air outside.

He hated it. And he hated this feeling inside him. It was like ever since that night so long ago, his insides had turned into a toxic sludge that ruined everything it touched. He hated the fact that despite how much he knew he shouldn’t have let them, Finn and Logan had begun to mean so very much to him. And he was terrified that the black murky sludge inside him was going to reach up and poison the roots of them that had started growing in his heart when all he wanted was to nurture them and watch those roots take hold until his chest burst open with blooming peonies. Leo wasn’t sure if his heart could take it if instead; the roots were to simply rot away, leaving in their wake nothing but dry brittle stems ready to blow away in the wind.

Give it a chance. Baby, let yourself heal.

The only way to make the hurt a little less, is to start moving on.

Leo closed his eyes against the flickering light above him and breathed in deep then out slow and even.

It was time.

Before he could think himself out of the decision Leo pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the contacts. It didn’t escape his notice that Logan hadn’t responded to his message, but he didn’t let that stop him. He scrolled down and chuckled at the silly name now set as Finn’s contact and clicked the call button.

The phone rang and rang and then words were filling his ear before Leo even realized Finn had picked up the call.

“Hey you, I really hope you called to apologize for not reacting to the video I sent you earlier because honestly three whole minutes of watching cats being scared deserved a reaction.” Finn’s voice was warm and teasing and made Leo smile softly.

“Sorry, I hadn’t checked the group chat yet I was… in the middle of something. But now I know I have something to look forward to,” Leo replied.

“Hmm,”’ Finn hummed low like he was contemplating something but the sound pressed directly to Leo’s ear made him shiver; It felt like he was right there behind him whispering to him. “Well, I suppose I can overlook it this once. But I’m warning you I’m needy and crave validation so this is your one freebie.”

Leo chuckled at that, “Don’t worry I’ll laugh at all of your memes.”

“That makes me happy,” Finn said softly and Leo could almost hear the little smile in his voice, “so what can I do for you Leo? Since you haven’t watched the video yet and I can’t imagine you called just to listen to my dulcet voice, I assume you had something on your mind.”

“Maybe I like listening to your voice,” Leo replied before he could stop himself.

“Yeah?’ Finn asked, his voice almost breathless.

“Mmm, but you’re right I did have a reason I called.”

“Alright, shoot.”

Leo shifted on his bed, eyes roving over the dingy motel room once more solidifying his decision, “Is that offer still open? To live with you?”

There was the sound of rustling on the other end like Finn had sat up in bed to take in Leo’s question.

“I’ll pay you rent of course,” he heard a breath on the other end, Finn about to protest but Leo continued before he got the chance, “there is no way I’m not going to so don’t even try to talk me out of that.”

“Fine,” Finn conceded, “I won’t fight you on that. Honestly, I’m just really happy you decided to do it, I hate thinking of you living in that motel. I can’t imagine it’s a good place to be.”

Leo huffed a slight laugh, “you have no idea.”

“Alright then, when do you want to move in? I’ll have a new key cut for you, and I can come pick you and your stuff up from the motel if you want?”

“That would be great Fish, do you think Sunday would work?”

“Sunday is perfect.”

“Alrighty, well I guess that's it then,” Leo said softly, not entirely sure what else to say.

“I guess it is,” Finn's voice was low in his ear.

“Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight Leo,” Leo ended the call wishing he could hear his name whispered into his ear by Finn's lips every single day.

He let his phone fall out of his hand onto the bed and sighed, and when he breathed in again for the first time in years there was a lightness in his chest that nearly made him sob in relief.

This was good. This was a step forward.

Read on ao3

Chapter 18

#sweater weather #coast to coast #leo knut #logan tremblay #lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o’hara #writing #the scars of our past

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currentfandomkick · 4 years

Text

Marinette did not sign up for this part 6

this part was broken in two for my sanity.

first part here previous part here ao3 here

Bruce is many things, including Batman. He is currently trying to figure out how to launch a search party for his daughter’s missing magic jewelry and to find the thieves. (god, he hasn’t even met her yet and she has so many problems. She needs him there already and he isn’t). He is a father to many children who are currently searching for her, and who only just thought to inform him of this fact. On top of that, he is Batman—Justice League, cases, and keeping up his aliases on top of managing his possibly injured son.

What he is not expecting is a call from Hal when he is mid-way through a case while keeping Red Hood down. He is not expecting for Oracle to patch him through, nor is he expecting it to include Diana and Arthur—granted they all know each other’s identities at this point, but still. He would like to be uniform when his allies call him for work. Instead, he’s in civvies, in Jason’s room on his laptop keeping his son in place by sitting at the foot of his bed and shooting him looks on occasion. The only mercy was it being audio only.

“Batman we need to have a talk,” Hal stated.

Jason decided to make a break for it while Bruce was distracted. Bruce tackled his son and dragged him back to bed. “Little busy. Someone with Pegasus’ abilities dropped Hood into the harbor and he’s on bedrest.”

“I object to this treatment! I’m fine!”

“Not until Agent A clears you.”

“Fuck you B.”

“Hood.”

Jason stuck out his tongue and relented for the moment.

“So you’re aware he pulled a gun on a kid?”

Bruce choked at that.

Jason sat up. “First of all, dart gun with knock outs thank you very much, second of all, kid clearly stole Ladybug’s whatever that lets her transform, same with the girl using the cat that clearly has a lot of anxiety and definitely should not be in the field if she’s hyperventilating!”

Bruce could feel Diana being held back by someone. Possibly Hal’s ring, or Arthur.

“That was a teammate certified by the Ladybug and Chat Noir as allowed to use their miraculous given that Ladybug was needed on another mission at the time. Mr. Bug has appeared once before when Ladybug was unable to appear, and Chatte Noire is usually for solo stealth missions but was called to handle this particular akuma.” Arthur explained. “Your son attacked Ladybug’s team and has only made them all more unwilling to allow any contact after Sandboy.”

Bruce froze. His daughter needs help, and is denying the league the right to after Jason’s (well-intentioned) actions.

“Are they—”

“Ladybug has stated that the League may not approach her team during patrol, which was our main contact point. Miss Sting has become their representative for any and all contact, save one Amazonian historian,” Diana hissed. “She is convinced your whole family is trying to kill her now. You are to keep your house out of Paris until this is handled—if it wasn’t for the team being convinced that Red Hood was one of Sandboy’s creations, we would not be allowed to contact her at all!”

Bruce froze. His daughter is terrified of his family—of her family. She thinks they are out to kill her. He need to have a family meeting, now.

“I’ll check their locations and bring them back.”

“You better!”

“It is not wise to anger the Savior and Destroyer, so do so as quickly as possible,” Arthur stressed.

“Seriously Bats, get your house in order.”

“Hey, he’s not in charge of us anymore,” Jason tried to defend, only his voice wasn’t all there. “We’re our own people here. He just makes sure we don’t bleed out at this point.”

“Might want to work on that too.” Bruce wasn’t focusing enough to tell which of them said that.

Jason was shockingly quiet after that, typing absently on his phone.

Bruce needed to fix this. He turned on his kids trackers, only to find they were already in Paris, or… moving toward it. And comms were down.

“Oracle, report.”

“Sorry B, but I think they found her and we may have pinned down Hawkmoth.”

Bruce wanted to scream. He didn’t. “Report the identity to the League and leave Paris, now.”

“… Tim isn’t responding, Cass has plans with a family, and Steph is part of those, so you’re going to have to wait a day or so.”

Jason typed harder, but said nothing. Bruce could feel the self-recrimination and knew better than to intervene just yet. When he put down the phone (and when Bruce finished his own investigation on this matter) they would talk. For now, he had to wait.

---

Nino is a lot of things. Amazing director (albeit a tyrant as one), a top notch dj, and a superhero. He is also smart, charming, and very good at reading people and knowing when something is up. Perks of being Carapace and having Wayzz all the time—people’s weaknesses are a lot easier to spot now, and any fronts they try to put up, he already sees right through them. Especially when its someone he’s known forever.

Marinette has been on edge, around the same time as Ladybug started acting up. Granted, finding out she has a pen knife last year by her accidently using it to draw in class that one time did give him a wakeup call on Marinette having a paranoia streak on top of her anxiety, but usually the girl calmed down during school or when she was designing during breaks.

This time, that wasn’t happening. He’s… not sure how to get her to open up on this one. Looking over her shoulder and the constant twitching meant she was probably hit hard by Sandboy last night, and hadn’t recovered yet. He really wished he got a few hits in himself on the akuma—it always messed up everyone afterwards. And Marinette didn’t need the extra stress with her new designs for the Worst Father Ever’s company and tests that week.

And yet here they are, with her on edge. Most of the class was hit, and no one was at a hundred percent and all, he got that but…

“Sandboy?” Nino started, hoping it was casual enough that Marinette didn’t catch how frustrated he was with all of this. Ladybug was missing last night so Mr. Bug was there, Chatte was filling in for Chat and had an anxiety attack, the battle took way too long and it was so painfully clear that Chatte isn’t a hitter and that Mr. Bug is no strategist. Viperion stepped into that role with ease when he managed to get there, but still. The whole situation was messed up and he couldn’t fix it. Even when its hurting his friends.

Marinette let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it or…”

“NO! I—I never wanted to, I…” Marinette was at a loss for words again, tugging at her hair.

“Its okay dudette.” He made sure to take her hands out of her hair before she knotted it like she did when they were kids. She hated getting them out after, always cried a bit from how much it hurt with how big her knots would get and how uncooperative they were. “That bad?”

Marinette nodded, curled in a bit. “I never want it to happen for real.”

Nino wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was, but it couldn’t be good. He know how bad some of Sandboy’s nightmares were—getting chased by his own fear of absolute failure being voiced by his idols still stung to this day.

“Hey, if it tries to, you got us—me, my bro, your bestie and let’s not forget Miss “I am the storm” will be there.”

“And Kagami!” Alya added with a grin as she came over with his bro. “She’s already claimed the right to destroy anyone that hurts you.”

Adrien’s grin may as well have split his face. “She has, hasn’t she.”

Marinette turned to fight with Adrien, as something was going on between those two, Adrien clearly had an idea what it was, but given the whole thing with Luka’s fans getting on her back about using him to get famous and the fall out…

Nino shook his head to banish that particular akuma—fans are the worst kind of akuma. Love akuma are really annoying in their abilities, but he can defend against all of their power-sets so far. Fan akumas are always wildcards and he’s usually not the most helpful against them.

He hopes he can keep Ladybug and Marinette safe. His job is to defend and shelter—in and out of the mask. That’s what he’s decided to do, at least.

“Aw, look at them. Now if only they were like this back when operations secret garden was a go.”

Nino raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing you need to worry about, before we got together.”

“Uh huh.” Nino could and would worry about it. Was that a ‘get them together’ operation or a ‘teach Adrien and Marinette how to be people and no run from the sight of each other’ operation? First year ops outside of the mask were weird and he wasn’t in on them until a few months after he and Alya finally got together (at his best bro and favorite dudette’s brand of meddling).

Adrien is glad for many things since getting the ring. One of them is his partner and after finding out who she was (post-‘oh my god she hates me as a civilian’ episode), her brand of scheming. Which included (after he got her to conceded that his father may be bad but he is not Hawkmoth level bad) her managing to end up as his Father’s current ‘mentee’ of choice after she won the hat competition, and he showed off the scarf she made him last year. Gabriel had a rule of not working with designers that hadn’t made a name for themselves already—Marinette had by the time she was fourteen as MDC—Jagged Stone and Clara Nightengale’s joint-custody personal designers.

Father only found out MDC was Marinette from the scarf. He’d met Clara again at an event and she had the same style of embroidery and threading. Only it was after Adrien got his scarf.

Marinette plotted this--down to the fashion week event and Clara going to talk to Gabriel about his opinion on the work done to her scarf and how long he thought it would take MDC to make the same thing on a dress, roughly, since the designer does the embroidery by hand instead of letting Clara’s seamstress handle it given the intricate lace-like pattern.

Gabriel had called Marinette on the landline—the landline—that night and offered to mentor her on how to broaden her work for the masses, without taking away from her school and downtime, or interfering with MDC’s work.

So far, Marinette has gathered them a pool of seventy two people, name and contact information, that Markov, Max and Alya are co-investigating as Hawkmoth.

The trade off to all of that is “Marinette” brand consultation under the Gabriel brand, a studio with walk-in and appointed consultations, and being there on time.

Adrien managed to get them there a half hour early, and she still wasn’t relaxed. The unofficial appointment is in twenty minutes, and Marinette is shaken from Sandboy, but doesn’t want to talk about anything Miraculous, and he hasn’t had time for videogames lately, so. Distraction time.

“How did you get into fashion again?” Adrien toyed with his phone, knowing damn well how she ended up this far into fashion, but he did love watching her get worked up and go off.

“First of all, this industry doesn’t make anything for you if you’re short that isn’t petite, and that’s a nightmare to look for as a kid. Then there was Maman having trouble finding things that fit her nicely and from there looking for women’s or girls clothes is just disappointment after disappointment.”

“How so?” Adrien hid his grin behind his phone.

“How—how so! Your father keeps wanting me to keep pockets out of designs because real pockets aren’t ‘in’ for women’s fashion. Lies! They are always in, women always want pockets and real pockets! Pockets are wonderful and the deeper the better.”

“Mh hm.” Adrien knew that from previous rant sessions.

“Then there’s the whole lack of body types and fits and don’t get me started on every white shirt being seem through, or a button up that doesn’t button right, or both. There is a reason why I make clothes for Mylene and her mom since I started doing commissions in the first place, and that is only one of them!”

Adrien leaned forward then. “So anything else?”

“Fix the sizing system already—using measurements that we already use when getting clothes online for conversion charts, only no ‘small, medium, large’ just the amount of fabric at each measurement and a rough of how it fits on different sizes where from there!”

Adrien checked the time. Ten minutes to, and this guy sounded like the early type.

“Alright, better now?”

Marinette blinked a few times, rage vanishing as she processed what happened. “… yes.”

“Good, feel ready to work out a rough?”

Marinette smirked. “They won’t know what hit them!”

Tim walked in and decided this candidate was high on his personal choice of who he’s like to be baby bat. The girl had cookies at the ready with coffee (real coffee, making her much better than Marie Ann) and didn’t bat an eyelash at the Wayne name. So either cool under pressure, or doesn’t care for celebrity status, either way a bonus in his books.

Then came how she just… had that same look Bruce gets when working out one of Riddler’s puzzles, only while she was working out a suit for him. She was just in charge of the design portion—Gabriel assured him he’d check over the whole thing and handle production and all. But this suit she worked out in minutes—even grumbling about making sure his pockets were at easy access level for him to grab his phone in case of emergencies and checking over his phone to shape the pocket and cut with that in mind—he likes it.

Given her features, she wouldn’t be out of place in the family—blue eyes and black hair for the win once again. And she clearly understood professionalism, even if she was being monitored by Gabriel’s son who seemed content to let her operate without asking any questions beyond asking him if he had any fabrics he didn’t want or any skin sensitivities.

Her measurement taking was faster than he was used to with tailors, and she admitted it was a double check and checking the fits he already uses to further incorporate it into the design.

No matter how this pans out, he’s decided he’s keeping her on as a designer at the very least. And that Janet’s DNA test comes back negative. This Marinette is his new favorite pick, and she wouldn’t stick out like a sore thumb. Plus, she already wears her hair like Ladybug and turned that into a casual nickname, so extra bonus on secret identity keeping cred if she is.

Now he just needs to find out if she really is and then drop the bomb on her while working out if she’s undercover working Gabriel/Hawkmoth, or not. If she is, damn. If not, he’s giving her ‘spot the bad guy’ lessons, price—one cup of coffee.

next part is in the works, its just a lot lore-wise and detective-wise with bats talking to Baby Bat with No Idea its Baby Bat until whoops, too late. Oops

anyone knows how to add the readmore, feel free to comment or message me

@heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04

#maribat #bio!dad bruce #bio!dad bruce wayne #ml au #marinette did not sign up for this #part 6 #long post

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downwiththeficness · 3 years

Text

In the Bond-Chapter 23 (Final Chapter)

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~7,950

Warnings: Violence, blood, the use of explosives, a bad movie reference, death (kind of)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

Start from the beginning Previous Chapter

Read on AO3 Masterlist

They were once again sitting around the conference table looking at a map. In this instance, the squabbling had, thankfully, been kept at a minimum. With a common enemy between them, all the anger and mistrust of each other had been redirected outwardly. There was no sense in fighting with one another when a greater peril threatened them all.

Lilah had marked several points all along an open space in the desert—possible hideouts Benny had used in the past. Javier was currently working with a small, trusted crew to root out where he might be through other means. While waiting for new information, they developed about five plans, all centered around obliterating the ever loving hell out of him.

She’d given up on steering the plan into less violent territory, settling for making things as quick and as efficient as possible. Lilah wanted no more incidents of near-death for the people in this room, herself included. If that meant others had to die, then so be it.

Seth leaned back in his chair, “We won’t be able to get any further on this until we know where he’s holed up. I say we get some food.”

They’d been at it for hours, and though Lilah wasn’t particularly hungry, she was glad for the prospect of a break.

“Pizza?” Seth asked, turning to the only other person in the room not on a liquid diet.

Lilah shrugged, “Long as its not from that place across from the grocery.”

“Oh, come on,” Seth groused, “Its not that bad.”

“The health inspection code is a ‘C’,” she countered, “They found rats.”

“Not in the pizza.”

She leveled a stern look at him, “They found them in the fryers.”

Seth rolled his eyes, but relented, “Alright. I’ll pick another place.”

Lilah leaned on her elbows with an indulgent expression as Seth took out a phone and pulled up the website to order. The phone wavering in her vision, the reminder of how she’d been captured, made her flinch. She covered it by running her hand over the map, but not before Brasa felt it.

Sitting to her right, he had been texting frequently with Javier, relaying the updates as he got them. Sensing her unease, his thumbs paused over the screen as he mentally reached out to her.

Lilah rolled her shoulders, taking the comfort he offered. She had a mission to accomplish. She could cry about being kidnapped later. Belatedly, Lilah realized that the ‘deal with later’ pile was pretty damn big and she would definitely have to take some time to actually deal with it.

Richie, who had been checking in on Kate, tossed his phone onto the table, “Much as I hate to ask, I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Brasa gave a curt nod, “I’ll have something brought to us.”

“Its appreciated,” Richie replied in a rare instance of sincere, professional gratitude.

She took in Richie’s appearance. He looked...tired. As a man of nearly unbounded energy, to see the glint in his eye diminished was unsettling.

“I’m sorry about Jackknife’s,” she said, catching his attention.

He lifted a shoulder in affected nonchalance, “Its good. We’ll rebuild.”

That boded well. Lilah half expected to hear that he was moving on to another high risk, high yield project. That he was sticking with the place hinted at Kate’s grounding presence.

“Did the bar top survive?”

Richie smiled, “Yeah. Its a bit singed.”

“That’ll just give it character.”

“Fair point,” he conceded, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “We got interviews with contractors in a few weeks.”

She made a soft sound of praise, “Look at you, doing interviews, being official.”

His eyes dropped, demure, “We figured we should actually follow the policies you wrote.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Richie’s attention was momentarily taken by a staff asking him about his blood type preferences, and Lilah found herself staring at the map. The ground cover was too wide, she didn’t have enough supplies. There were too many unknowns for her to be comfortable with moving forward. It frustrated her to no end that she couldn’t just make a decision and be done with it—execute.

The door to the conference room opened and Javier strolled in. Dressed in all white, a gleaming silver cane tapping along beside him, he was smiling wide. Cat and canary.

“I have brought some guests.”

Two staff were each dragging along a single, fighting person. Lilah didn’t recognize them, but she caught their fangs flashing as they grunted in pain. Clothing bloodstained and ripped, they looked like they’d been in a serious fight—which she guessed they had.

Brasa stood, gloved hand sliding along the wood of the table as he circled it, “Do they have the information we need.”

Javier’s smile held, “I believe they do.”

“Good. Bring them to my office.”

“As you wish.”

Brasa watched them go, then turned to the group, “I will need to question them. You may remain here for the time being. Rest. Eat. I will return when I have Benny’s location.”

Lilah cut in, “I’m going with you.”

He fixed her with a hard look, “This is not an easy thing to do. I will very likely need to hurt them.”

She blinked, “I’m sorry, who in this room just got kidnapped? I think I’m owed a little time to take out some aggression.”

From his perch on the tabletop, Richie drawled, “She’s got a point.”

Brasa glared at Richie, earning himself an amused laugh. Then, he gave a single, curt nod, and reached out for her. Lilah took his hand and followed him out of the conference room and to his public office. The two chairs that normally sat in front of his desk had been pulled out so that they faced the walkway dissecting the room. In each sat a battered culebra—one with his head hanging down, the other glaring defiantly at no one in particular.

Lilah let Brasa lead her to them. His step slowed several paces away and he squeezed her hand before letting go. Lilah stopped where he left her, folding her hands in front of her body as she took in the scene.

Javier was standing off to the side, the staff having left prior to their arrival. His expression was relaxed, but she sensed a hardness underneath it. They’d done this before. Possibly hundreds of times over their unimaginably long lives. She drew in a breath to steady herself.

Brasa pushed his hands into his pockets as he regarded them, “What are your names?”

“Up yours,” came from the glaring one.

Without hesitation, and seemingly without thought, Brasa kicked out. His foot landed on the knee of ‘up yours’, the bone crunching audibly. Lilah felt her hands clench at the sound, but she managed to keep the wince from her face. ‘Up yours’ screamed in pain, his chin tilted up to the ceiling. He let out another, softer sound, then visibly calmed himself. He’d been prepped for this.

Stepping forward, Lilah edged around Brasa, one hand brushing his arm. She leaned down and caught the eye of ‘up yours’, “This will go much easier for you if you answer our questions.”

His glare returned, more fierce than before, “We’re prepared to die for this.”

Lilah nodded, two fingers touching his temple, “We’ll grant you that. Death is much better than what he,” she jerked her head towards Brasa, “is going to do to you if you refuse to cooperate.”

“Luis,” came a small voice to her right.

Lilah glanced over at him, “Luis. Is that you?”

He nodded.

“And this one?”

A hesitation, then, “Rafe.”

“Rafe,” Lilah echoed, turning her attention forward once again. “Where is Benny?”

Rafe pulled away from her touch, “Nowhere. Everywhere.”

She very nearly rolled her eyes. They knew that Benny had created a kind of weird mystique around himself and his mission. They also knew that he had cast them as the villains in the story. The technique made a lot of sense—it was still annoying as fuck.

A scoff from Brasa, followed by, “Spare us your delusions.”

Lilah straightened to standing, “Benny failed you over and over. Why continue to protect him?”

Luis cast her a look that was edging on pathetic, “He saved us.”

“From what?”

“From you,” Rafe answered, something more than derision in his voice. Hatred, perhaps.

Brasa moved. Slow. Relaxed. “Why would you need to be saved from us?”

Another answer from Rafe, “You are Xibalban. We know what you do to our kind.”

There it was. They’d been told enough to keep them scared—little truths that were coated in a thin, thin lie. Easy to swallow. Easy to accept. Easy to break.

“It is true that my people once committed inconceivable atrocities against yours,” Brasa allowed with a congenial dip of his head, “But that is not what I intend, nor is it what I will allow. Not any longer.”

Rafe sneered, “Liar.”

“Sometimes,” Brasa admitted, “When the moment calls for it. But, this is not that moment. I am not lying.”

Luis spoke, his lips trembling, “We don’t know that. You’ve been hunting us down. Killing us.”

Again, Brasa acknowledged the truth for what it was, “Only those who put us all at risk.”

Lilah could see how this was going to play out, could already hear the back and forth that would take time that they just didn’t have. Benny could strike again at any time, possibly with more firepower. Every second they spent debating right and wrong, good and bad, was a second that could cost the life of someone she cared about. Lilah made a decision.

Reaching into the pocket of Brasa’s slacks, she pulled out his knife, flipping the blade open. With deliberate slowness, she showed each of them the weapon. Then, she started talking.

“I’m going to give you an opportunity. The offer is time limited, and it will be given to only one of you. Tell us where Benny is, and you live. First come, first serve.”

The room was quiet, save for the near constant snarls coming from Rafe. Lilah waited. Knife in hand, she simply let the quiet hold, let the uncomfortable stillness of silence make them squirm. If they knew Benny’s whereabouts, they’d tell her, and soon.

Luis broke first, “He’s in the tunnels, about ten miles north of where he...found you.”

The last two words were halting, as if he knew he shouldn’t say it, but couldn’t quite help himself. Next to her, Brasa growled low and long. She could feel the heat of his anger build both physically and within the confines of the bond.

“We have a winner,” she rasped, affected by how viscerally Brasa was emoting. Knowing that the longer they sat there, the risk of blood spilling would rise exponentially, Lilah turned from Brasa, “Javier, if you would, take Luis to be questioned further.”

“As you wish, Lady Lilah.”

Brasa held up a hand, “I want details, Javier. I want to know what Benny is planning.”

With a flourish, Javier hauled Luis up, tossing him towards the door, “I will take care of this.”

Luis landed hard on his knees, grunting in pain. But, he got up and let Javier lead him, limping, out of the room. The door closed with a kind of hard finality that eased Lilah’s anxiety. She felt Brasa’s confidence in Javier’s ability to get more of what they needed from Luis.

That left Rafe.

Lilah’s fingers gripped the knife, her jaw set, “Were you there when Benny took me?”

She didn’t recognize him, but she’d been hit pretty hard and had been too preoccupied with playing possum to memorize the faces of the people hauling her away. Beside her, Brasa removed his gloves.

Rafe shook his head.

“You’re sure?”

Another shake.

“I believe you.”

He visibly relaxed.

“But,” she continued, “I did say the offer would only be given to one of you.”

Rafe, knowing that she wasn’t going to relent, let out a sound of rage, rising unsteadily from the chair, hands outstretched towards her. He was stopped by Brasa’s hand around his throat. There was an almost too soft to hear pop as his larynx was crushed, the sound of his anger cut off with a wheeze.

Lilah closed the knife and slipped it back into Brasa’s pocket. Then, deliberately, she took a step back and crossed her arms. She’d said that she wanted vengeance, but exacting it with her own hands felt somehow unnecessary. All the fire that had been there five minutes before dissipated, leaving her feeling deflated.

Brasa had no such issues. His fingers curled deeper into Rafe’s throat, pushing beneath his skin. Blood welled up, dripping down the back of his hand to the floor. Lilah didn’t have to look at his eyes to know that they were red with rage, the glow of his power burning ever brighter beneath his skin. Flame burst from Rafe’s eyes, smoke wafting from his pores. He seared from the inside out, his body cracking into dust from the top down.

Brasa’s arm dropped, and he wiped the dust from his hands, his attention on the pile at his feet, “I should get a broom.”

Lilah looked at the spread of particles, trying hard not to think about the fact that it had once been a person, “We might have more important things to do right now.”

His brows quirked, “You might be right.”

***

Lilah stood at her station, well away from where the action would go down. The night was deep and dark, the new moon casting no light to guide their way. She looked over her equipment, one hand brushing over the black metal box sitting innocently to her right. Her laptop was gently whirring, all comms connected. At her thigh, her pistol rested in its holster, her knife strapped to her arm. Lilah hoped she wouldn’t have to use them.

According to Javier, Luis had talked freely, answered question after question. All of this was relayed to Lilah in detail until she felt like she had a good grasp on Benny’s plan. Brasa had sent Javier to set up the final blow, refusing to allow Lilah to do it, herself, as was her preference. She was too tired to argue, never having fully rested since the bomb had gone off two days before.

It was hard to think about it, the breakneck pace she’d been going at over that time. Lilah couldn’t even nail down if she’d slept properly, couldn’t remember eating or showering. And so, when Brasa had firmly pulled her into their room, she hadn’t resisted.

Assured that her friends were being taken care of, she’d let Brasa strip her down and run her a bath, let him wash her with soothing motions, until the water cooled And then, they’d tumbled naked into bed, the full darkness of the room letting her fall into a deep sleep.

She wished that she could say that she felt fully rested. While Lilah had slept for a long time, she had awoken groggy. Her body ached with something that wasn’t quite injury. She sleep walked through getting ready for the day, reluctantly eating a meal next to Seth, who sat drinking coffee while he cleaned his gun.

It wasn’t until she began to set up for the job that Lilah’s brain kicked in. This was it. They could be done with this awful mess today. If they succeeded, Lilah vowed to herself that she was going to do something fun—maybe rob a museum.

As she was contemplating this, heat built at her back. She looked up to find Brasa and Javier standing not far away. Brasa was wearing the familiar uniform of leather, sunglasses perched on his nose. Next to him, Javier was very much out of uniform. Instead of a sharply tailored suit, her wore thick canvas pants and a long sleeved shirt. He’d forgone his usual cane, a literal sword strapped to his hip.

“Are we set up?” She asked Javier.

With a deferential nod, he answered, “We are.”

“And you made sure to ground the connection—its just that it could go early if you—.”

Brasa laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “He was very thorough. This will work.”

Lilah’s jaw shut with an audible click. She pursed her lips, the effort to hold back further questions not inconsequential. She busied her hands and her mind with activating the comms.

“McNamara online,” she said evenly.

It took a few seconds to get a response, but eventually she heard the click of the mic turning on.

“Richie Gecko online.”

“Oh, shut up,” Seth groused, “We’re in place.”

“You’re the one who said we should take this seriously.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t the fucking movies.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Alright. Hang tight while we get a lock on him.”

Tapping her mouse pad, Lilah opened the tracking app, “You think he’ll go for it?”

Javier shifted on his feet, “I believe he will. He’s already proven that he’ll sacrifice anyone and anything to protect his own skin.”

She stared at the little dots on the screen, “And Luis?”

“Running back to daddy,” he intoned, derision tainting his voice.

“You’re sure.”

He sighed, “I’ve done this a thousand times over. I know fear. I made him very, very scared before I let him go.”

The intensity with which he spoke, the unsaid threat in his tone, was enough to make Lilah drop the subject. She turned her attention to the screen, taking note of her location and the pair of dots indicating Seth and Richie. At the bottom left corner was a renegade dot that was steadily moving towards them. She watched it shift across the screen, pixels lighting up along the path.

It stopped at a fair distance from where the other two were congregated. Lilah held her breath as she waited for it to either stay where it was or start moving again. It stayed.

“He’s back,” Lilah murmured.

A flash of headlights appeared, lighting her station. She turned around in her seat, squinting at the car coming towards them.

“Is that one of ours?”

Brasa touched her shoulder, “It is. I should have warned you. Richie insisted.”

The car pulled up, dust swirling around the tires as it came to a stop. The engine and lights cut off, the driver’s side door opened. A dark head popped up, hair pulled into a high pony tail. Kate was dressed for practicality—jeans, t shirt, jacket, boots, gun. She closed the door, and walked confidently towards them.

Lilah waved at her, “Welcome to the party.”

She smiled wryly, “Richie said I couldn’t go with him, so I thought I would go with you.”

To be honest, Lilah was grateful for the extra support. It was often the case that she was alone, running the logistics, while others were executing her plan. Today, when the stakes were high, she found that she didn’t like the thought of being by herself.

Brasa took her hand, saying lowly, “Keep the bond open.”

She nodded, “Absolutely.”

“Good,” he leaned down and kissed her temple.

With a nod to Kate, Brasa turned from them. Javier stood a moment longer, his eyes absorbing Kate in detail. Then, he stepped back and followed his lord into the darkness.

Kate sighed with an odd kind of relief, “Well, what’s the plan?”

Lilah lifted a brow, “Richie didn’t tell you?”

“He said that he would be, quote, ‘fucking shit up’, but that’s as far as I got.”

That made sense. As if he’d gotten a power up in a video game, Richie had gotten some of his energy back as they neared the start of the job. As he’d loaded up the car, he’d been fairly vibrating with energy, a wide smile wrapped around a cigarette. Seth, on the other hand, had been stone cold sober—both literally and figuratively. The seriousness of his expression, the cant of his shoulders, told her that he was determined to get this done.

“Okay,” Lilah said, sliding into her chair, “This is Seth and Richie. And this,” she pointed to the errant dot, “is Luis. We’re fairly certain that he is heading back to Benny to tell him that we know his plan.”

Kate peered at the screen, “What was his plan?”

“To nuke the entire cave system, causing a sinkhole that spans across our entire territory.”

Eyes narrowing, Kate said, “That doesn’t make sense.”

Lilah cut her a glance, “What about it doesn’t make sense?”

“Benny’s schtick is all about how Brasa is destroying their way of life, right? What does taking down the cave system do.”

Lilah hesitated, her mind running through it, “I...think its because Brasa said they built it.”

“They did what?”

Hand waving to the land in front of them, “They built it—the Xibalbans. Its this huge maze of tunnels that are carved deep into the rock. I’ve only seen some of it, but its huge and complex and had to have taken forever to accomplish.” She paused, eyes scanning the middle distance, “I think that he made the caves a physical representation of their rule. I mean, right?”

Kate cocked her head to the side, “That could be right. Benny could also be batshit crazy.”

“Fair point.”

“Well, we can pretty much guarantee that he’s going to change his plan, knowing that we know.”

Lilah shook her head, “If you’re right and he is batshit, then we don’t know that. Crazy isn’t always predictable.”

“That is a fair point.”

“Which,” Lilah added, tapping out a few commands, “means that we need to get a little more inside information.”

She cued up the sound, activating the comm Javier had placed carefully into Luis’ pocket on the way out. For a few minutes, she had to screw around with the settings, trying to get the best sound quality.

We should keep to the plan—Benny. Make their land unlivable, give them no place to retreat. Then, we pick them off like the parasites they are.

What about the Xibalban? Came a voice she didn’t recognize.

They’ll protect their bondmate first. When they realize the danger, they’ll come running.

Lilah reflexively looked around, trying to discern if they were going to be attacked from the deep black of the landscape around them.

“Could they know where we are?”

“No,” Lilah answered, feeling her shoulders drop, “No, they couldn’t.”

“Then…?” Kate prompted, her head shaking from side to side in confusion. “Oh no… get your phone.’

“What? Why?”

“They’re gonna finish off the bars,” Kate’s voice cracked, “We have to get the staff out of there.”

With a long line of curses falling from her lips, Lilah sent off a barrage of texts to the floor manager, telling them to get themselves and everyone else out of the building. As she did that, the conversation coming from the ear piece continued.

We should cut and run—Naya.

We run now, and we’ll keep running. We have to hit them where it will hurt.

Didn’t we already do that? Benny, you burned down his lair, you bombed both their bars—every time you try to hit them, they just keep...coming for us.

That was not untrue, and Lilah hated that she agreed with Naya. Her mouth turned down as she listened, half her attention on the phone in her hands as she waited for confirmation that the staff had been taken to safety.

They aren’t invincible, Naya.

Neither are you. A sigh. Maybe we should leave. Maybe we should just leave them here and go find a place for ourselves.

And let them win? There was that voice she didn’t recognize.

If we don’t fight now, we’re gonna end up like Luis, over there.

A heavy silence landed in the middle of the conversation, and Lilah could only guess that Luis had been killed after he’d told Benny that he’d talked.

We just found each other, Benny. I don’t want to lose you so soon.

You won’t. We’ll handle this, and then we can start our lives together.

The sincerity of his tone, the way Lilah could hear every emotion steeping into his words...It helped her to understand how so many people could believe him when he told them that they could succeed.

Brasa’s voice sounded from over the bond, We’re in the caves. Where should we go?

Lilah relayed Benny’s location, telling him to be careful. She avoided details about the secondary plan, about how Benny had wanted to distract him. It wasn’t necessary. She’d taken care of it, and would fill him in later.

“They’re headed for Benny. If he wiggles out of it again, Seth and Richie will herd him to the back up plan.”

“What is the back up plan?”

“We got incoming!”

Lilah tapped the keyboard, “Seth, what’s going on?”

“Got a group of ‘em heading towards us. Richie and I will take care of it.”

“Yeah, nothing we can’t handle.”

Lilah nodded, even though they couldn’t see her, “Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid. If it gets too hairy, cut and run.”

There was a pause, then, from Seth, “Duly noted, boss.”

Unable to listen to the gunfire she knew was coming, Lilah cut the line. Next to her, Kate checked her phone, tapping on the screen a few times.

“What’s left of Jackknife’s is empty. The staff have gone to ground.”

“Good, good.”

Lilah’s phone had been silent, no response from the manager. She hoped that meant they were taking care of business and hadn’t been killed in the second wave. Her stomach rolled with regret that she hadn’t thought he’d attack there again, that she may have inadvertently put both her staff and the remaining injured culebras in danger.

We knew you’d be here—Benny.

Apparently, Brasa and Javier had arrived. She found herself leaning into the computer as she listened.

This needs to stop, Brasa’s voice was deceptively soft. She could feel how he was going to stop things, how much it took to say what came next, The two of you can go. We just want him.

Not a chance.

I can’t leave him.

This was said simultaneously, but Lilah could pick apart the variation in tone. The unknown man spitting the words out, Naya’s voice soft and weak and desperate. She resisted feeling sorry for either of them.

We will take him by force, Javier pronounced, and she could hear some rustling, then, We don’t want you, but we will go through you.

More rustling, I’m not afraid to die. And, if I get to take you out with me, that’s a bonus.

And then there was a bang that preceded the comm cutting off entirely. Lilah stared at the screen, one finger tapping on the keyboard to try to bring the sound back. No use. It was fried. Closing her eyes, Lilah reached across the bond to find that Brasa far away, further than he’d been since the beginning of all this.

She couldn’t tell if he was hurt, or if he was putting distance between them so that he could concentrate on doing what needed to be done, so that he could shield her from it.

“How fast is your car?”

Kate smiled, “Pretty damn.”

“Let’s go.”

It wasn’t until they were speeding away that Kate actually asked where they were going, “I’m literally hauling ass through the dark, here.”

Lilah pulled up her phone, opening the tracking app for the comms. She had the last location of Brasa, the little dot shining from somewhere below the ground. And then there were the two dots signifying the brothers. They were a little further South than they had been, but they were moving.

She opened the line, “Guys, you there?”

A click, “Yeah, we’re here. Kind of busy, though.”

Then, Seth cut in, “These fuckers just keep coming.”

Lilah swallowed down her rising nerves, “We’ve lost contact with Brasa and Javier. We’re gonna check it out.”

A few shots fired, the sound of it making Lilah wince. Seth’s voice followed, rough with exertion, “That’s a bad idea. He can handle himself.”

“I think,” Lilah croaked, “I think they had the same idea we did.”

There were more shots, intermittently cut through with unintelligible yelling. Lilah tried not to think about what was going on, knowing that her mind was far more creative than was typical of reality. Instead, she focused on directing Kate while she waited for a response that she might not get.

“Ah, fuck!”

“What happened?”

“Got clipped in the side,” Seth ground out, “Its not deep. I’m good.”

He wasn’t talking to her. She could tell. He was reassuring his brother.

“Quit getting hit,” Richie demanded, “We got people to kill.”

“Yes, Richie, that’s so helpful.”

Knowing that she wasn’t going to get them to focus, and the attempt might result in another injury, Lilah turned down the volume and pointed to the left of the car, “That’s about where they were.”

Kate pulled to a stop, shutting the car off, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to find him, and I want to ring his neck for leaving me in the dark.”

“Alright.”

Pull her gun from its holster, Lilah exited the car, using the headlights to peer around, “I don’t see anything.”

Kate had followed her example, a nine millimeter pointed towards the ground in front of her, “I don’t either.”

“They must still be in the caves, or—,” Lilah cut herself off as she spotted a plume of dust settling not too far away.

Kate followed her gaze, her mouth thin as she concentrated, “You think…?”

“Yeah,” Lilah breathed, “We need to be careful. The ground looks unstable.”

And indeed it did. Fissures cut through the rock below, the surface shattered in some places. Lilah eased forward, stepping back quickly when her foot sunk deep.

“Okay, what do we do?” Kate asked, taking a few steps back her eyes flicking back and forth.

“I don’t know.”

In the distance, something blew up. Another. And another. The sound came from all around them. Lilah could feel vibrations in her feet, in her chest, her hair standing on end.

“The fuck?”

Kate grabbed her arm, “The plan—they planned to blow the caves.”

Lilah stared at her, her mind slowly working to put the pieces together.

“He wasn’t going to hit the bars,” Kate said, her eyes shining with intensity, “He was going to bring us here. He knew you’d feel the hit to Brasa, knew you’d come here.”

Lilah looked down. Another bomb went off. There was no telling how many more there were, or when the ground beneath them would crumble. Angry and afraid, she reached out, slamming through the bond as it stretched thin.

I’m here. I’m fine. Javier is fine. We are near your post.

As relieved as she was to hear it, she cut through his reassurances, I already came to you. I followed the comm. Kate and I are standing on the caves.

She sensed his fear, sensed that he’d turned and was running back towards her, I’m coming.

No, no, that’s what he wants. You need to head towards Seth and Richie. They’re the next stop. Kate and I will get out of this.

Kate was already moving to the car, ushering Lilah along. Inside, she slammed the transmission into drive and they hauled ass away.

“We need to get to Seth and Richie,” Lilah said, pulling out her phone.

As she expected, their dots were moving towards the rendezvous points. Unexpectedly, the comm they’d planted on Luis was also moving. It had reconnected to the tracking system, and was flying in a twisting pattern towards the Geckos.

Lilah glared at it, flinching as a bomb went off a little too close for comfort. Kate was driving fast, the car eating up road as the engine roared. If it had been anyone else at the wheel, Lilah might have worried for her safety. As it was, Kate was a notoriously skilled getaway driver, having honed the talent over many jobs.

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the connection button on the app. Her hunch could be wrong.

Mouth curling, Lilah connected to the comm, “You still alive?”

There was rustling along the line, a bit of feedback, then, “I am alive and well.”

“Wish I could say that I’m glad to hear it, Benny.”

He chuckled, the sound coming out forced, “Good thing I don’t give a fuck about your happiness.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I’m guessing that you can see where I’m heading.”

“I can.”

“Good,” he bit out, “Then you’ll know when I’ve taken care of your friends.”

“You’re not going to make it that far, Benny.”

“We’ll see.”

The comm disconnected from his side. Lilah sighed and shut down the app. She pushed her phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt and fiddled with the edge of one of her sleeves.

“We almost there?”

Lilah nodded. Whatever she might have answered was cut off as a bomb went off too close to the car, the ground exploding outwards. Rocks shattered the windows on the driver’s side, the car swerving as Kate tried to keep control. A second bomb went off a moment later, the back side of the car lifting about ten feet. As it slammed back down, Lilah could hear the axle crack, knew instinctively that they had to get out, and fast.

“Out! Out!” Lilah cried as she threw off her seat belt.

Disoriented, Lilah stumbled as she got out of the car, looking over the body to see Kate slamming the door closed and rounding the hood.

“You alright?”

Lilah nodded, “I’m good. The car’s fucked, though.”

As if on cue, a bomb went off maybe a hundred yards away, and the ground shifted. Lilah felt it in a way that she couldn’t describe, an intangible feeling that scared her more than she’d ever been scared before. In between one second and the next, the ground sunk down, caving in on itself. The hole grew bigger, yawning ever wider as it worked to swallow them whole.

“Run!”

Lilah had never, never made her feet move so fast. The air whipped at her as each step slammed into the ground. The roaring in her ears was only tempered by the sound of her own breathing. A glance over her shoulder saw the car rear up before falling down into the depths, cutting off the light. Gritting her teeth, she dug into her pocket, her stride slowing as she keyed up the flashlight on her phone.

The path before them was illuminated, much good that it did them. On either side of them, the ground trembled. They weren’t going fast enough. They were going to fall.

Brasa…

He heard her, but his answer was overpowered by the way the ground fell out from under her. Lilah’s arm was caught by Kate, who dragged her to the side.

“Over there, the rock formation. That’s the safest bet.”

Not in a place to argue, Lilah followed Kate’s lead, pushing through the burn and strain of her muscles. As they neared, a tiny flicker of hope swelled, urging her to just keep moving. Lilah obeyed the feeling, arms pumping, breath punching in and out.

Another huge chunk of ground swelled up and dropped, the rumbling sound of crunching rock following. She veered, moving with Kate towards the only goal in sight.

Scrambling up, Lilah climbed as quickly as she could, digging her feet into the stone and scraping her palms. Behind her, in front of her, to her left and right, the earth roiled. She could hear more of the cave system crumble in on itself, taking whoever might be inside with it.

Near the top, with Kate huffing at her side, Lilah turned and watched the disaster unfold. It was a sight she would never forget. The whole world, as far as she could see it, rocked up and down, sinking and rising, turning over almost completely.

“He meant for us to be in that,” Kate said, the barest tremble in her voice.

“He did.”

“Fuck this guy.”

“Yeah,” Lilah said, when she could find her voice again. “Fuck this guy.”

Kate closed her eyes, and Lilah didn’t even have to guess at what she was doing. She drew in a breath to follow suit.

I’m okay. We got out.

Let me through.

Have you found Seth and Richie?

Let me through.

Tell me. Did you find them.

I...did.

And?

Seth’s hurt. We can’t stop the bleeding.

Horrified, Lilah opened her eyes, catching a similar expression on Kate’s face. She made a decision.

“Tell Richie to let you through.”

Not waiting for an answer, Lilah reached out to the bond, got a good grip, and pulled. The world tipped over, and Lilah landed hard on her knee, dry heaving.

“You could have just asked,” Brasa griped from not far away. Then, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, swallowing. As she looked up, Lilah caught Kate landing next to Richie, who was already bending down to help her up. Next to Richie was an ashen Seth. He was leaning against their car, blood soaking clean through almost the entirely of the front of his button down. His suit jacket was crumbled a few feet away, along with his gun holsters. He looked like he was going to try to stand, took a single step, and crumpled down in a heap.

“You look like shit.”

Seth started to laugh, the sound cut off by a groan of pain, “Fuck you, too.”

Ambling over to him, Lilah sat on her heels, “We need to get you to a hospital.”

He shook his head, “I’m good here. Could use a drink, though.”

“Don’t need to thin your blood any more than it already is,” Lilah shot back, “You’re hurt. This isn’t just a flesh wound.”

“Benny got in a good shot, I’ll give him that.”

Lips sneering, Lilah said, “We’ll get him back for this. We still have an ace up our sleeve.”

Seth sucked his teeth, blood coating the enamel, “You need to be getting to that ace.”

“Not until I know you’re going to make it.”

He was already shaking his head, “This isn’t something you come back from.”

Seth lifted the hand that had been staunching the blood, a spurt shooting out with every beat of his heart until he covered it again.

Lilah to a moment to think, “You can. You can come back from this. Richie can help you.”

She knew the moment that he understood what she was saying. She also knew that he was going to refuse.

“I’m not having this asshole,” he pointed to his brother, “Hold it over me for eternity, thank you very much. I’ve had enough of that already.”

“Are you seriously arguing about this while you’re dying?”

Seth glared at her, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was struggling to focus.

Lilah laid a hand over his, worried by the cool skin beneath her fingers, “Then, let me do it.” Surprised by her own words, she glanced up at Brasa, “I can do it, right?”

His mouth parted, closed, parted again, and then he nodded, “Yes. Your blood is my blood, and blood is the conduit.”

Turning her attention back to Seth, Lilah lifted her brows in question, “It’ll be better if its me, right?”

He was quiet for a long time, so long that Lilah began to feel the hope that had sparked while the earth trembled beneath her feet begin to fade. And then he nodded.

Hand digging into her sweatshirt, Lilah pulled out her knife. She rolled it into her other hand. And then, before she could question it, she dug the blade in. Carefully, Lilah dripped the steady stream into Seth’s mouth.

He took a deep gulp, then tried to pull away. Lilah cradled the back of his head, holding him to the wound, her eyes lifting once more to her bondmate.

“How much?”

Brasa’s eyes were fixed where Seth’s mouth met her skin, “A bit more.”

Lilah held her position for a minute or two more, focused enough on her task that she didn’t hear the conversation going on around her. Then, when she thought it might be enough, she pulled away. Seth, already weak, couldn’t keep his head up. His eyes were rolled back, forehead clammy.

“How long does it take?”

This time, Richie answered, “It depends, but not long. I’ll stay with him. You guys go after Benny.”

Kate moved to stand next to Richie, “I’ll stay with him, too. He’ll need someone here who won’t rib him for ‘coming to the dark side’.”

The last little bit of that sentence was said with heavy sarcasm and a pair of finger quotes.

Lilah sheathed her knife and stood, “You’ll let me know that he’s okay.”

With half a smile, Richie tapped the ear piece, “I’ll give you live updates.”

“Thanks.”

Brasa moved to her side, holding up the little metal box from her station, “I thought you might need this.”

Lilah took it gratefully, “I do. Thank you.” She rose up on her tip toes and kissed him lightly, “Let’s go kill this shithead.”

After settling Seth as comfortably as possible, Lilah took the keys to the car from Seth’s coat and hopped into the driver’s side. Brasa’s body dropped into the passenger’s side, Javier nimbly climbing into the back.

She rolled down the window, pointing at Richie, “Real time updates.”

He gave her a little salute and shooed her away, his focus turning to his brother.

It surprised Lilah how quickly they arrived at the rendezvous point, though it was nowhere near where they’d found Seth and Richie. Over the horizon, the sky was beginning to grow pink with the rising of the sun. She pulled to a stop a good distance away from where she knew Benny would be.

If all had gone to plan, they would have all been sitting here, watching this. Lilah comforted herself with the knowledge that they were at least unhurt, mostly. Seth would get better, would be healed before she got back.

Opening the door, Lilah got out, closing it behind her, the black box tucked beneath her arm. She didn’t bother looking for Brasa and Javier to follow, already moving around the huge boulder she’d parked behind. Pulling out her phone, she checked the dot representing Benny. He was right where she wanted him to be.

Below, the rock face sheered off, giving her the best view of the helipad just across a flowing river. Lilah breathed in the cool morning air, wind blowing gently.

Brasa leaned against the rock to her right, glasses reflecting the world below, “I can do it, if you want.”

Lilah looked at him.

“You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to.”

She caught the glimmer of Javier as he stood at a respectable distance, felt the subtle change in light as the sun continued to rise. The night seemed far away already. The anxiety. The fear. The relief. It all felt as if it were a dream. And yet, here she stood, at the precipice of committing the final act in their plan. She felt no hesitation. She felt no fear. Lilah wasn’t quite sure she could feel much of anything.

“I got it,” she said finally.

And she did—have it.

Looking down, Lilah opened the box, her thumb flicking each of the toggles upwards until red turned green. In the distance, she heard the blades of the helicopter begin the turn. She looked down. Two figures ran for the craft.

“Is that him?” She asked Brasa, knowing that his eyes were infinitely better than hers.

He craned his neck, looking down his nose, “Yes.”

Without thinking, she tapped the comm, “You still alive?”

From across the distance, Benny laughed, “I am. Tell me, is Seth?”

She sneered, “He is.”

“Shame,” Benny replied, unrepentant. Then, with a light, conversational tone, “Hey, McNamara, looks like we’ll be seeing each other again sometimes.”

They wouldn’t.

“Hey, Benny,” she shot back, “looks like you’re on the wrong side of the river.”

Lilah waited a moment more, watching as the two figures climbed inside.

She pressed the button.

The explosion was small—or, perhaps it was only small because she’d seen so many up close not an hour before. From around the helipad, the explosives went off. In a succession of fifteen or so, they obliterated the ground beneath, until it began to crumble in on itself. And then, just for good measure, the helicopter, itself, detonated. Lilah watched until the whole thing fell into the hole the first blast had created, then closed the box and looked to Brasa.

“I want to go home.”

And that’s what they did. They found Seth, Richie, and Kate where they’d left them. Stuffing everyone into the car, they went back to the bar. Lilah was not ashamed to be relieved that the place was still standing. In their absence, the elevator had been fixed. It opened to workers still making repairs, a fine smattering of dust on every surface.

Tired, and half awake, the group filed into the conference room. Seth was laid out on the tabletop. As was his way, Javier was already arranging for food, liquor, and blood to be brought to them. As Lilah moved to sit, Brasa pulled her away from the chair she’d pulled out. With quiet care, he gathered her into his lap, holding her around the waist.

She wasn’t surprised to see Richie doing the same with Kate, though he was watching his brother very closely.

“When will he wake up?” she asked.

“Any minute,” Richie answered, his voice even and sure.

“How do you know?”

“Because Javier is bringing a bottle of shitty bourbon and you know he can’t resist.”

She laughed, some of the feeling coming back to her. Resting against Brasa, she watched as Seth laid on the table, unmoving. He’d been asleep for so long that she was doubting her decision. Sensing her unease, Brasa ran a hand up her back. Up and down. Calming.

Her shoulders didn’t move from where she’d had them bunched up by her ears until Seth drew that first, ragged breath. The relief coursed through her, tears dotting her cheeks. Sniffing, she wiped them away, resting an elbow on the table as leaned forward.

Richie eased Kate to the side, rising. He took a few steps around the table, lifting a hip and sitting not far from Seth’s head.

“Welcome back, brother.”

“Fuck. You.”

Richie laughed, “Glad to see you’re going to still be cranky when you wake up.”

“I died, you asshole.”

“I know. I was there.”

Seth tried to sit up, dropping heavily back down, “Fuck.”

The door to the conference room swung open, Javier pulling a cart in behind him.

Richie smiled, “Breakfast is here.” Then, softer, “You need to feed, Seth.”

Lilah though he would fight, thought he would grumble and pout until the hunger took over. And yet, when Richie held the bag out to him, Seth took it. With ease that could only come from watching someone do it over and over, he tore into the plastic, and drank it down.

Standing hesitantly, Lilah crossed into his field of vision. He drew back from the bag, breathing hard, game face on.

“Hey.”

He swallowed hard, “Hey.”

“You feel ok?”

One shoulder lifted, “For having nearly died, I feel pretty good.”

“Cool.” Then, “You want to steal a Renoir with me later?”

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

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rwbyremnants · 3 years

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WARNING: tiny hints of Non-Freezerburn content

So this is the very beginning of when this story begins to drift from being focused on Freezerburn goodness (it really goes off the rails later). I know some of you don't like to see the ships change mid fanfic so I figured I would give you a heads up. Don't worry, Yang and Weiss are still endgame and there will be plenty of those two throughout, but there's going to be a lot of fuckery happening over the next couple dozen chapters. Bear with me!

=Chapter 34

After watching Cinder enjoy the attentions of two young ladies a bit more than she probably ought to have, Kali quietly herded the rest of them from the room. Pyrrha offered to stay, despite Weiss' repeated attempts to help usher her to the exit; seemed she really didn't mind indulging Cinder just this once. Emerald offered to give her friend a ride back on her bike once they were through so everything was taken care of.

Once walking back to the car, Kali patted Ilia on the shoulder. “I'm proud of you, little one.”

“What? M-me? Why?”

“You came in, stood your ground, and reminded the rest of us that one of our own was suffering. We tried to help, but hadn't tried our hardest yet. It was important.”

Ilia was still smiling from the compliments when Blake cleared her throat and added, “Y-yeah. That was pretty cool of you.”

The next smile was a completely different kind. Weiss nudged Yang with her elbow as they split off from the others to get on her motorcycle.

“She really has it bad, doesn't she?”

“Oh yeah,” Yang chortled as she started it up. Weiss swung onto the seat behind her, sliding her arms around Yang's middle gratefully. “One too many bottles of Love Potion Number 9. She’s been head over heels for Belladonna as long as we've known her.”

“Right… do you think she’ll ever get past thinking of her as ‘the new girl’ and see her as just a girl? Because I think she's kind of sweet in her own way. But maybe she's just not Blake's type.”

Yang glanced over her shoulder at her as she began to guide the bike toward the exit of the parking lot. “Really? And if you're so smart, little miss teacher's pet, what is Blake's type?”

“Tall blondes who lead biker gangs, apparently.”

That insinuation nearly made her guide the bike into the shrubbery instead. “Hey! Not funny.”

“Well, it’s-” Weiss had been about to insist that it was the truth, but then she remembered it was a truth she wasn’t supposed to divulge! And she had come so close to spilling the beans! “It's, um, a little funny, right?”

“NO! You almost gave me a heart attack! Come on, Blake being sweet on me? That would be a disaster!”

She knew her own laughter sounded forced, but at least she had managed to laugh. After following the Belladonna car for a few blocks, she asked, “Not that I'm disagreeing with you, but I'm curious. Why would that be such a disaster? I mean, Blake is a beautiful girl.”

A scoffing noise came from the gangster in front of her on the bike. “She's just… like a sister to me, you know? It would be like dating Ruby, which I definitely don't want to do either. But I'm not denying she's cute. Just don't feel those kind of feelings for her.” Once they got to a stop sign, she chanced a grin over her shoulder. “Not what I feel for you, Princess.”

Though she still wanted to continue the conversation about Blake, feeling bad that Yang felt no attraction to her, the comment filled her stomach with so many butterflies that she couldn't seem to focus on it anymore.

Soon enough, they were parking in the driveway and disembarking their various vehicles. Ilia stretched and Kali let out weary sigh as they walked up to the front door. Yang reached down and took Weiss's hand, and she gladly squeezed back.

The sight of Willow Schnee sobbing on the couch brought their mood down a couple of points. However, upon seeing the group entering, she looked up and flashed them a bleary smile.

“O-oh! You're back much s-sooner than I expected! How was your visit with your friend?”

“Fine, Mother,” Weiss began carefully as the rest of them filed in. “She's being taken care of now. What's wrong? Are you okay?”

The woman waved a regal hand, dismissing the concern. “No worse than when you left, don't worry. Raven… was kind enough to offer to make me a cup of coffee to settle my nerves. Though she has been gone for some time.”

Weiss, Kali, and Yang went through into the dining room, then into the kitchen. There they found a clearly frazzled Raven Branwen standing in front of the counter, where coffee grounds and water were strewn everywhere — including all over herself.

“Oh.” Her eyes shifted back and forth. “I can explain this.”

Kali chuckled. “You were trying to play host in an unfamiliar home?”

“How do you work this stupid espresso machine? You pretentious ass.” Her pale cheeks were the very tiniest bit rosy; it wasn’t much of a blush, but still far worse than Weiss ever remembered seeing in Yang’s mother’s expression.

“Here,” she sighed, nipping up a washcloth to help clean it up. But Raven stiffened, so she put her hands on her hips. “Do you want my help or not?”

Raven relented, and Weiss and Yang stood back and watched in mild fascination as Kali helped her clean the counter off somewhat, then moved on to preparing coffee together. It was like seeing a ballerina dancing alongside a rhinoceros. Several times, they glanced at each other in sheer disbelief before returning to the spectacle.

“That was… special,” Yang muttered once they had finally excused themselves.

“Agreed. I’ve never seen her like that.”

That brought a slightly shy smile to the bruiser’s lips. “I have. But… yeah, not real often, or in front of other people.” She shrugged. “Maybe she likes your mom.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. She barely knows her!”

“So? You barely know me.”

“You… make a compelling point,” Weiss conceded as they returned to the living room, Yang chuckling and slinging an arm around her neck.

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

Within half an hour, Raven came back with the coffee. There had been a couple of shouts, but nothing prolonged or sharp enough to truly worry anyone. Mrs. Schnee gracefully accepted the cup and they all chatted for a while. In a way, it almost seemed like they were paired off: Willow and Raven, Ilia and Blake, Weiss and Yang. Kali was the odd woman out, but didn’t look at all uncomfortable simply playing host.

“Wouldn’t that be weird?” Weiss asked when they were poking around in Blake’s room a little later. Yang looked right at home, but she was completely captivated by the unfamiliar surroundings. Stunned that she was going to live here for a while… possibly a long while.

“Wouldn’t what be weird?”

Shrugging, she sat on the bed. “If our mothers were dating. I mean, that would make us sisters.”

“So?” Yang giggled. “I was sniffing around your skirt first; I get dibs.”

“Stop that,” she laughed, swatting her shoulder. “I mean it. Do you want to be sleeping with your stepsister? Aren’t our lives crazy enough already?”

Yang walked over and straddled Weiss’s lap, hands sliding into her hair as her thumbs traced their way up and down her girlfriend’s temples. “Sounds hot.”

“Ohhhh… wait, what are you doing?”

“Enjoying myself?” Her nose nuzzled into Weiss’s ear. “Didn’t think it had been so long since we fooled around that you forgot what it was like.”

Dipping her head away from the nose and the lips moving down to her neck, she sighed shakily. “Hey, hey! We’re in Blake’s room!”

“So what? She’ll understand. I mean, we gotta take it where we can get it.”

“No, you…” How could she explain this to her? She couldn’t - not without betraying Blake’s trust. “I just… don’t think she would… not on her bed.”

Yang drew back, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why? Is there something wrong with this bed?”

“No, it’s-”

“Bedbugs? Rusty springs?”

“Yang…” The lips pulled her earlobe in, and she had to push her away to head off a pronounced moan. “Listen to me!”

That finally got her attention. The bruiser finally sat completely back, frowning at her girlfriend. “Hey. What’s shaking? You’re being kinda weird.”

She didn’t have to tell her the whole story. But she at least deserved part of the truth. “I’m not comfortable doing this in Blake’s room. If you want to go out to the back yard and neck for a little while, then that’s peachy, but… I don’t know. I can’t get in the mood in here.”

“What’s so special about a room? I wasn’t going to get her sheets dirty or anything.” But seeing that Weiss was serious, she leaned down and gave her a sweeter, less heated kiss. “Sorry. We can put it on ice.”

“Good. Because I fully intend to go back to the icebox for it later.”

“Good,” she agreed with a wicked little grin before their lips found each other’s again. Even that was a bit odd for Weiss to be doing in the room of the girl who was still crushing on her girlfriend… but all relationships require some amount of compromise.

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

Weiss felt awkward about sleeping in Blake’s bed. Though Blake had insisted, and taken the couch, it still didn’t feel right; she was only supposed to be crashing there for a short time. Kali's large queen-sized bed was big enough to accommodate both their mothers with ease, but Blake’s smaller twin was not; technically, yes, but comfortably, no.

She was so discomfited that she couldn’t stand it anymore. Sometime after midnight, she began to creep downstairs, hoping to check on her. She only got halfway down the staircase before she began to hear…

Crying.

‘Shoot,’ she thought harshly to herself as she frowned, trying to decide if she could make it back upstairs without being noticed. It wasn’t terribly likely. Besides, even though she wanted to give Blake her privacy, she wanted to help her friend even more. Or at least offer help; if she told her to go the hell away, that would be that.

“Blake?”

Instantly, the raven-haired girl sat bolt upright, eyes wide with true fear as she stared at Weiss. It faded quickly, leaving her looking broken and tired.

“Weiss… go the hell away.”

Message received. “O-okay. I’m sorry.”

“Wait…” Sighing, she covered her eyes with her hand. “No, I should be the one apologising. I’ll go, I’ll… I want a drink of water.”

When Blake stood to make her way to the kitchen, Weiss moved the rest of the way into the living room as quick as she could. “Please don’t go. I can get it for you.”

“Why would you?”

“Because… because I feel bad for interrupting. Please, just let me? I won’t take two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

She let her take care of the task. Weiss came back with two small glasses of milk. Blake raised an eyebrow. “What are these for?”

“Milk helps you sleep.”

“That’s warm milk, isn’t it?” But when Weiss’s smile slipped a little, she took her glass quickly. “I-it’s fine. Thanks.”

“Mm.” They both took a few sips as Weiss sat next to her on the couch. The air seemed to ratchet up with tension. So long had passed since they had a simple, civil conversation that she almost had forgotten what that was like. Eventually, just when she felt she might have to make an excuse and just go back upstairs, Blake spoke up.

“Sorry I’ve been so weird.”

“It’s alright.”

“No… no, it’s not. I’ve been stupid, and jealous, and… and taking out stuff with our moms on you. Still being weird about Yang. And that’s gonna stop right here, tonight.” Her amber eyes turned up to look at Weiss, a little uncertainty in them. “Not totally, I mean… I’m still a girl, I can’t help my girlish heart. But I’ll work on it.”

Smiling and nudging her with her forearm, Weiss said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s really alright. Um…”

“Yeah?”

“This is none of my business. But I think you and Ilia would be really cute together.”

It took Blake a few seconds of staring off into the corner before she came up with an answer. “You’re right. That’s none of your business.” Seeing Weiss deflate prompted her to nudge right back. “But I get that you think you’re helping. Just… cut it out, that’s all.”

“Got it.” After a second, she sighed and said, “Are you really alright on this couch? I honestly thought it would be me down here. Doesn’t seem very comfortable, and we are invading your hou-”

“You know my mom would never let me hear the end of it if I made you sleep on the couch, sister.”

“Then let’s share the bed. Please, I mean it, I just do not feel comfortable up there by myself - it’s not my room, it’s yours, and I can’t… I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. That’s unacceptable!”

Blake appeared caught off her guard, openly staring at her guest. However, a little twinkle of amusement was sparking in her amber eyes behind the surprise. “You want to sleep with me?”

“If you’re going to phrase it like that, then no,” she scoffed, prompting a little chuckle from the other Dragon. “Otherwise… I mean, you know I’m pretty tiny.”

“Not that tiny. But alright - you’re on, Schnee. We could try it.”

After finishing off their milk, the two made their way upstairs and wriggled into the bed. It was more than a little uncomfortable at first. They wound up facing away from each other, trying not to think about rear ends and toes touching; it helped that Weiss was in fuzzy pyjamas, adding an extra layer of separation.

“Hey…”

Weiss rolled onto her back. “What?” But Blake only curled around her side. “E-excuse me! What is the meaning of-”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly.

“What for? We already covered this topic downstairs.”

“Still feel like a horse’s ass. You’ve actually been a real cool cat since Yang started making eyes at you, and I just… wanted to hate you. Tried not to, but it would have been easier if I could. And I… and w-with our parents… why am I so stupid?!”

“Again, we covered this,” she told her again, but her voice was more gentle as she pet gently along her back. “I could have tried harder to understand that this wasn’t easy for you. And… I feel like I should have figured out that was part of the problem a lot sooner. So don’t-”

Blake squeezed a little tighter, and Weiss could do nothing but wrap her arms around her a little more tightly. They stayed like that for a few minutes before she could feel Blake begin to shake from the force of her own sobs, in spite of how desperately she was trying to suppress any noise escaping. It broke her heart. Why did life have to be so hard sometimes?

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

“You thought you could get away…”

The fire was coming. Weiss was trying to throw off the chains as quickly as she could before it caught up to her, clawing them from around her ankles and wrists, but she couldn’t grip them firmly enough. What was the matter with her? The stupid puffy ballgown was definitely not helping matters, it kept getting tangled and snagging on the bed of nails below.

“You’re mine,” her father snarled - except he wasn’t her father. He was a dragon, large and sprawling and covered in gleaming white scales, red eyes blazing down at her as he clawed his way across the craggy landscape. “MINE!”

“No!” she cried, even though no sound was coming out. A silent scream as she tried desperately to escape. He was going to catch her, drag her back to his hoard of treasure!

Then the claws were closing around her, pushing chains into her skin, closing the trap…

When Weiss’s eyes flew open, for just an instant, she still believed it had all been real. The sweat soaking through the neckline of her pj’s told her that her subconscious mind had believed it as well. What a horrible nightmare. Obviously she had a lot on her mind lately, but did her brain have to put her through it when she was asleep? That should have been her time to escape from the strife.

Then she realised why she felt so chained.

“Yang,” Blake was mumbling in her sleep as she clung even tighter to Weiss’s body than she had before slumbering, practically on top of her now. That was about the saddest thing she had ever witnessed. Poor thing had it bad.

Maybe… she should step aside? No. That was stupid. Weiss knew without any further reflection that she and Yang loved each other. Even if she wished she could do something for Blake, that would not be possible without making an even bigger sacrifice - and one that would solve nothing, since Yang did not have those feelings for Blake. But there had to be something she could do!

Then she felt hips shifting against one of her thighs, grinding slightly. That wasn’t the ‘something’ she had in mind.

‘Oh golly,’ she thought in alarm, going stock still. ‘So she’s having THAT kind of dream. What do I do?!’ The movements didn’t stop, presumably because Yang wasn’t stopping in the raven-haired Dragon’s mindscape. If she woke Blake up, she would be horribly embarrassed if she ever found out later… but if she didn’t wake her up…

Another little moan told her she couldn’t leave it at this. Weiss tried to shake her shoulder. “Blake?” No response, just more squirming - and her cheeks flared with heat, her heart beating faster. “Blake! Gee whiz!”

Finally, those amber orbs popped open in the darkened room. They swivelled around a few times before training on Weiss, completely caught off her guard seeing her there.

“Huh?”

“You were, um….”

“Schnee, what are you doing here? What's-” She moved a little, and her words cut off. Even in the low lighting, she could see her face draining of colour. “What… was I...?”

Even though she felt a little mean about saying so, she couldn’t help teasing a teensy bit. “Your dream self clearly thought I was some other gal. Unless… you still want to make me ‘see stars’?”

“Shut up. This isn't… I'll move so we can-” But when she tried to move, it prompted a shiver and a moan that cut off all further speech.

“Wow. You're really ready to go.”

Holding completely still, Blake hissed urgently, “It's not what it looks like! You know I would never do this to any girl while she's asleep, right? Please tell me you know at least that much!”

“I do,” she laughed, her own cheeks rosy by now. “I could tell you were having some really steamy peep show dream. And… and that's why I woke you up.”

“Ugh… couldn't you have just let me finish? Now I'm all pent up and frustrated.” Her hips moved a little again, and she whimpered.

“If I let you finish while you were asleep, then I would feel like the one taking advantage! But for what it's worth, I'm sorry!”

After a few more idle thrusts, Blake sighed and forced her hips to still. “No… no, you're right. I'm just… never mind.”

But Weiss decided she'd had enough of pussyfooting around this topic. “Just wish it was Yang sleeping over instead of me?” When amber eyes turned to her, guilty as they were fearful, she hastened to add, “I'm not upset. Believe me, I understand just how attractive Yang is. Maybe if you were trying to get her to two-time me, I'd be getting territorial, but… I don't know. You're a good friend to both of us, and you can't help having eyes for her.”

“How… can you not be angry?” she breathed in sheer surprise. “Or at least yelling at me to… to get over it? Yang is going steady with you now, and I have no right-”

“Hey, you have every right to feelings. It's what you do with them that counts.” Her hand reached down to give the Belladonna behind a little tap. “And this was involuntary, so don't think I'm holding it against you.”

For a moment, Blake just tried her best to weather the sensations and take in the words from her temporary roommate. Then she smirked. “Y-yeah. I'm pretty sure I'm the one holding 'it’ against you.”

“SHHHH!” Though they both giggled. “Um… yeah, I don't know what to say. You can keep going if you… really need it? It feels like-”

“No, no, I can stop.” She rolled onto her back, panting as if she had just run a mile. “Wowie zowie…”

For a few seconds, the two teenagers lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of their crazy situation. A lot had transpired in a very short amount of time. Really, in only a few short weeks, Weiss had gone from oblivious little princess of Atlas Heights to a bonafide gangster, dating a girl and standing up to a tyrannical father she had never thought would force her and her mother out of their own home. And Blake…

Well, Blake had lost her shot at Yang. Knowing just how great Yang was made it impossible to pretend that wasn't an awful blow.

“Damn.”

“What?” Weiss whispered.

“I… I can't go back to sleep.” Her eyes looked even guiltier when her head turned to look at her. “Maybe if I… move to the couch?”

Weiss bit her lip. “Or I could make a trip to the bathroom. And while I'm gone… you could, um, take care of whatever needs taking care of?”

“Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that! And then you'll come back in and the room will stink like me. No, I'll… I'll get over it. Don't worry.”

“But you're so keyed up! Just let me let you do this. I don't care how the room smells,” she added as an afterthought.

“But it'll be…” Seeming to rethink her words, she turned away. “Besides, the last thing I want is to wake up my mom with this. So if either of us get up… forget it. I'll just wait until I take a bath in the morning.”

Scoffing, she reached over to nudge Blake with her elbow. “You just said you can't sleep. I'll be really quiet on my way out, I promise.”

Now she looked truly conflicted. Even moreso than before. Why? Was Kali that light of a sleeper? A glance over showed her that Blake's legs were constantly squirming, though in a way that kept her from moving the bed too much. She looked miserable, and humiliated besides. Even while she was looking, she could swear she saw her eyes misting over, though in the low light from the window it was hard to tell.

“Hey,” she breathed softly, hand coming to rest on her forearm. “I can be quiet as a mouse. It's no trouble; I have to go a little, anyway.” That was an exaggeration; she did, but it would be easy to ignore until the following morning.

“How can you be so nice to me when I've been such a bitter… shrew?” she demanded, her voice soaked with emotion. “I even… I even thought…”

When she didn't finish, Weiss eventually gripped her forearm a bit tighter. “You even thought what? It's alright, I'm not going to kick you out of your own bedroom. I promise. You can say anything that's on your mind.”

“I even…” The tears were falling now, and she reached up to brush them from Blake's cheek. “When y-you were in the hospital, I really thought for one second that it might be better if you didn't make it, and everything could go back to normal! How stupid! I don't w-want you to die, not really, and even if you did, things won't go back to normal anyway! Why do I have to be so… s-so awful?!”

Weiss rolled over to hug Blake tightly, and felt her return the embrace as they clung to each other, only the latter sobbing. Though a cold feeling settled into the pit of her stomach from the sentiment, the knowledge that at any point Blake had wished death upon her, it didn't make much of a dent in her gratitude that she was opening up - no longer keeping her at arm's length. If they were ever going to truly be friends, they would have to evolve past petty jealousies one way or another.

“You're so sweet!” she finally growled into her shoulder when she could speak again. “God damn you for being so sweet, I can’t stand it!”

“Shhhh,” she soothed her as best she could, not really experienced with this sort of thing but trying her best. “I’m not, really. I feel like I should have said something earlier, but I didn’t really know how to - and it was easier just to ask Yang to talk to you instead of getting involved mysel…”

A little too late, she realised what she had said. Blake pulled back to blink down at her, halfway between puzzled and still remorseful about the whole situation. But then she nodded. “It’s okay. I know I was a terrible brat about it when it happened, but I do appreciate you trying to do the right thing, and get us talking again. Even if I had a funny way of showing it.”

“Yeah. Like I said, it's not easy with you still being hung up on Yang. For us to be pals, I mean.”

“It’s not just that. I mean, you’re right, Yang’s the one I… well, you already know. But it would be a lot easier if my rival weren't such a bleeding heart. I mean, Yang and Cinder? I'd be clawing her eyes out!” They both chuckled, and Blake relaxed against her. Apparently, the more heavy subject matter had dissipated much of her arousal. “Too bad the one who rode in on a horse and swept Yang off her feet was actually a tiny white knight, and a sweetheart.”

Smirking, she murmured, “Pretty sure that happened the other way around. I was a lamb to the slaughter.”

“Hey, careful; you’re still talking about the woman that holds my heart.” She rolled over to face the other way. Weiss almost didn’t catch the next words over her own weary sigh: “One of them, anyway.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Goodnight, Weiss.”

“Goodnight.”

However, it took quite some time for Weiss to drift off after that. She wound up eventually taking a trip to the bathroom, after all - and was very cautious when returning to the bedroom, but Blake was fast asleep this time. Completely content. It made for a nice change.

#princess and the dragons #1950s au #freezerburn fanfic #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants #monochrome

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