#Teen One showing off his visible anger with his red eyes! Up until he gets humbled by being dropped LOL

[blzzrdstryr]

Reveries of the Past. Yandere!Childe x Fatui!gn!reader

Wordcount: 3875

CW: Dissociation, graphic depiction of violence, hallucinations, unhealthy relationship and unhealthy power dynamics.

A.N.: I used a lot of my experience with dissociations in this and if it makes you uncomfortable, I would advice not to read it. I also plan on writing continuation for this, as it’s set before the Rite of Descension. P.s. I am not a native English speaker, so could you notify me if there’s awkward wording.

[Next chapter]

There are plenty of times you find yourself reminiscing about the past and now, your mind slips back to your memories, as you look at the horribly mangled body of the treasure hoarder. The stench of blood stuffs up your nose, it’s sickly sweet metallic odor making your gut clench and nausea rise, as your limbs grow heavier and numb. You don’t feel  like you belong in your skin and bones and blood anymore - it’s cold, so cold, yet you don’t feel any of it. You are an outsider, an unwanted intruder in the house that is your body, an indifferent observer looking at the world through the thick glass.

The world around disfigures, shapes and colors changing in the constant whirlwind - they jump and dance around, small becoming large and large shrinking so much it’s barely visible, green shifts to red to blue and to yellow and to million of other colors, and sounds suddenly become muffled, losing their sharpness, but you don’t care about it: the part that is “you” fled to the daydreams of your childhood moments ago, leaving a clinically observing, yet unfeeling being behind. 

Adults would describe you as a perfect child: quiet, obedient and dutiful, you were a stark contrast to the other louder and more free spirited kids. You studied hard, cleaned the house, helped with dishes and cooking and never talked back. 

I can't upset mom and dad because they work so much. I can't play with other kids because if I do, they will make fun of me, I have to study hard and get good grades, because mom said I will have a good job and become rich and help them. 

These particular memories don't feel good to you: they're bleak and boring, yet full of silent shame - they make your throat clog and eyes water, as something burning starts to bloom deep underneath your skin. 

Childe stops beating the still alive treasure hoarder, a blood smeared on the cheek and a dangerous glint in his eyes, and turns his head to you. 

"Hey, how about lending me a helping hand?", there’s a hunger in his voice you recognize, he wants to teach a lesson to the debtors, then. You walk towards him, feeling your knees get weaker and weaker with each step for some reason. A dagger made of ice shines in your hand with cold light. 

"It's no wonder [First] received a vision! My [First] is always so good and smart, there are no children better" the exact words your mother says, as she brags to her friends, showing them the vision you were bestowed with. You left it to her, not caring what will happen to it - despite all the child's wonder you felt before receiving it, the glowing orb doesn’t look so amazing to you now. It feels foreign and ugly, a reminder of what happened seconds before you gained it. 

“You know, when I was a child”, he takes the weapon and focuses on the treasure hoarder’s leader again, “we made a special kind of promise”. It’s tip travels to the hoarder’s hand. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life”

The sweet voice he uses and the fact that you  know the nursery rhyme too would make you sick in the stomach the other day, but not now. 

You don’t exactly remember how you joined the Fatui - it happened shortly after you gained a vision, when you were still too numb and cold to the outside world after the Event. 

Mom will hate me, dad will hate me too. I can’t let them know.

Your parents say that officials just knocked on the front door one day and offered you an entry into the Fatui and a monthly salary, big enough to stop your parents from overworking themselves. You were terrified back then, Fatuis despite being known as a diplomatic organization are still a mystery to the ordinary Shezhnayan and a direct servants to Her will. The thought of disappointing Tsaritsa or letting down Snezhnaya was enough to paralyze you, but seeing the smiles on your parents faces was enough to make you swear to yourself, that you will work there no matter how scary it seems.

“You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice.” The blade stops between phalanges of the little finger: “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend", he presses it, strong enough to detach the limb from the rest of the body in one swift slash. Treasure hoarder starts to cry and scream from the sudden pain, yet quickly chokes on it as Childe hits him in the solar plexus. The crack of bones feels deafening among the sea of muffled sounds.

Training was rigorous to say the least, you came back to your dorm room absolutely exhausted and after you fell on the bed you were practically dead to the world. Turns out, having a vision wasn’t enough to make you a fighter - you needed to know how to climb, swim, run with a weight to lift and wield a weapon. There were other children and teens with you, they eyed your vision with a mix of adoration and envy, you pretended not to catch it in turn.

“The frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again”, harbinger forces the victim's jaw apart by squeezing it with one hand, the other rapidly forcing a dagger inside the mouth. Treasure hoarder gasps and mumbles, fat tears forming in his eyes. A part of you expects a sound of parting flesh, but none comes: Tartaglia stands up and removes the blade, leaving a shivering and terrified man laying on the ground.

“Well,” Childe shrugs, as if he didn’t just dismember a person, voice back to his cheery tone : “You didn’t actually make a pinkie promise, so consider it a small mercy”. The treasure hoarder cowers even more, snuggling the injured hand close to the bruised chest. “But if you fail to repay your debt I will oversee that the frost”, he points in your direction, a treasure hoarder’s eyes going wide as he notices your vision, “will actually freeze your lying tongue off”, his voice descends again, back to it’s dangerous half-whisper.

You meet Ajax during the winter, he’s close to you in age and just arrived into Fatui grounds. He boasts and shows off to all of you, and you desperately want to retort something acidic to shut him up and rip off that arrogant bravado, yet say nothing, picturing how the tomorrow training session will have him laying flat on his back, too hurt and too tired to move even a single finger. 

He defeats the trainer in less than a minute.

Now, that the treasure hoarder fled, still snuggling disfigured limb, Childe turns attention back to you. “You seem a little bit disinterested here”, his hand on your cheek is so foreign, it’s burning and freezing at the same time, the shock from the unwanted touch almost strong enough to pull you back into reality. He notices your unintentional flinching and unfocused eyes “Ah, you hurt my feelings, [First]! And I thought we already became friends”. 

You say nothing, cold and unmoving, blind and deaf to the outside world, his words register a second too late, and there’s no cliche phrase for you to reply with. He looks a bit baffled and deflated for a second, but shrugs it off, just like he did during teen years, when you deliberately ignored all his attempts at catching your attention.

“Huh, even if you are so cold to me, I still forgive you”, he takes your hand, his touch still too overwhelming for you to process and pulls you back to Liyue harbor, your legs barely bending as you walk after him, like an obedient dog trailing it’s master.

“You know [First], I can beat you up so badly, that you will barely walk”, you put feather aside, stopping writing the letter to your parents as you glare at Ajax with barely masked indignation. He grins, satisfied to finally catch your attention after the whole day of pestering you. “I am aware of that” you reply in an absolutely flat tone, holding yourself from pouncing on him and trying to break the teeth out of that smug smile. He beams even wider, as if sensing your not-so-good intentions, revealing even more pearly whites as if taunting you.

“But I won’t, count yourself lucky”. And he leaves, this short interaction filling you with so much rage that you shake, handwritten letters noticeably becoming sharper and faster, your thoughts clouding around the idea of acquating his face with your boots. 

 Nonetheless, you indeed count yourself fortunate enough, when you see Ajax defeating grown men with bare hands. When you two, the only vision holders among your peers have to spar, he always goes easy on you, prefering to immobilize you rather than beating, making your defeat less painful yet even more humiliating. 

Almost at the end of your trail he suddenly stops and says something, but you don't catch it, words turning into separate vowels and then fusing together into one unintelligible gibberish mess. He leans in, close enough for his breath to burn your neck, and he continues to get closer, until his empty eyes look into yours glazed ones. He seems disappointed for a second and backs down, his breathing no longer fanning your skin. 

Distantly you think that you somehow angered him and he will slap you for it, and do nothing to dodge the hit - you barely feel pain in this condition anyway, but he doesn’t. The road to the Northland Bank is completed in absolute silence, Childe no longer trying to grab your attention, only when you enter Liyue Harbor does he whisper, that you two must look like a pair with all that hand holding. Judging by the volume and tone of his voice he says it more to himself than to you.

***

You come back to yourself in the safety of your room on the third room of the Northland bank. It feels like a rush of sensation, as everything becomes sharper and clearer again, like you just swam to the surface of water from the very depths of it. An invisible bubble around your head pops in one moment, and the world becomes real again, mind and body connecting for once more.

Eyes and ears focused you take in surroundings: the room is neat and lifelessly empty - just a bed and a working desk with a stack of written but unsent letters, along with a small bookcase near, no figurines, pictures or even plants to decorate living place, as you see no reason to adorn the area you use for sleeping only. Indiscernible wallpapers and a small window close to the middle of the bed finish the picture of austerity.

 Once, your memory catches up to you, you can't help groan from the shame and irritation, hiding your face in both hands. Afterwards  always feels both like a disgraceful escape and a warm blanket during the stormy night, a duality that you accepted long ago after joining the Fatui and today is no exception. You curse Harbinger when you remember why exactly you had an episode, and get up from the bed you threw yourself on minutes ago. You come to the desk, taking a clean form of a relocation request from the drawer and writing materials. 

Filling in the blank feels like commiting a felony to you for some reason - you stop several times when you hear footsteps in the corridor, focusing on the door,ready to hide the half written form and say some lie as an excuse. You don't list the Childe-related reasons, knowing that there's nothing that could make any of the Harbingers face the consequence for their actions, and instead you write completely normal and fake causes: health concerns, family matters and so on. Part of you doubts that this will work and you will have the fortune to get away from a certain harbinger as far as possible. Trying and failing is better than never attempting, you think, quickly writing the paper.

Once you finish it, you almost rush to Ekaterina, praying that you won't run into a certain ginger on the way. Sometime ago you caught Tartaglia checking your letters, for a secrecy he said back then, we can’t let anyone know about the coming operation. Childe then instilled that every sent and received letter should be checked, lest Qixing and other Liyuens learned what Fatui had in plan. It sounded logical and sensible, but the paranoid thought that he enforced this policy just to have a glimpse at your feelings never stopped eating at you. From that day on you sent your family the most basic and vague letters, just stating that you’re in good health and mind, still missing them and Snezhnaya, leaving the ones with more private sentiments in your room. 

Her eyes are completely obscured by the mask, but even with that you can’t miss the pointed glare she sends your way - Tartaglia never shied away from showing off, be it his strength, money or his twisted obsession that he calls love. With the amount of time and finances he spends on you and the way he acts like a kicked lovesick puppy in your vicinity, you are pretty sure that at least half of the bank workers see you as a cunning and cruel seducer, so keen and devious in the art of temptation that you managed to lure in Eleventh Harbinger.

As if archons decided to laugh at you, Childe descends from the second floor too, catching the sight of you near the receptionist. He looks unusually somber for a moment, but then he sees you, a smile appearing on his face as he takes the form from Ekaterina's hands. You can just feel how Ekaterina rolls her eyes under the mask, as if muttering complaints about the lovers’ spat and insubordination, having been working with her for some time, enough to have a clue of the inner workings of her mind.

You have to give him that he plays the confusion and regret very persuasively. He asks how he can fix this, says what a valuable team member you are to him and how much you are needed in the Northland bank. You agree to his suggestion - if years of training with Ajax and then work with Childe taught you anything, it is that Ajax is the chaos incarnate and Tartaglia is Ajax’s less tolerable and more unpredictable version, so it’s better not to anger him.

***

In the end he invites you to dine with him at Wanmin restaurant, a place Childe heard from some “xiansheng” as he called them. A bustling Liyue street is open before you two, tall midday sun painting the whole street into bright orange, so unlike the pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya. He orders two Black Back Perch Stews on the chef's recommendations, and hands a bouquet of local flowers in a parody of a normal boyfriend. Any random observer would really see it as a date.

You take the flowers, pretending to pay more attention to  them than to a man sitting near you. Tartaglia is an unpredictability wrapped in human skin, there’s no privilege as being lax and carefree near him, as even Tsaritsa has no idea what he will do next. 

To your mutual confusion Xiangling presents the meal with two pairs of chopsticks. Utensils feel foreign in your palm, you having no idea how to handle them and Childe, by the looks of it too. Tartaglia specifically asks the chef for spoons, while you observe the other clients, noting how they use theirs. Holding one stick like a pen and then placing the bottom one in a fixed position under the thumb you manage to grasp the fish from the soup, albeit clumsily. You consider it a small win. 

The image of a mighty Harbinger struggling in a failing battle with chopsticks would look funny to you, if it wasn’t for the whole "date" you were having. After putting them aside, and seemingly admitting defeat, Childe starts from afar: "You know [First], you changed a lot since I first met you" .

You raise an eyebrow at the starter, it's vague and innocent enough, but experience tells you that he will or at least try to stir the conversation into your relationship with him again. Straightening a bit and finally turning your eyes to him, you pause for a second, picking the least offensive reply you can muster - there’s a swarm of insults buzzing at the tip of your tongue prepared just for him, growing and sprouting since your pubescent years.

“Yes, I got taller”, he laughs it off, like you said some funny joke, his giggles not stopping for some time. "No, I mean as a person. Remember how you used to glare at me for joking? And now you act so unfazed ”

Joking. Is this what he calls it? Shivers creep up your spine when your memory oh so conveniently conjures the images of the aftermath of his jokes.

“Your jokes weren’t funny to anyone but you”. Breathe, you think, there’s no need to anger him. There are pictures of broken bones and bruised bodies and a cacophony of somebody else’s pained screams flashing and rattling in your head, Adults never did anything. Why would they? They had a golden boy Ajax, why would they help the others when they had him? Why would they help you? Bitterness and anger you thought you swallowed long ago rise up to the surface again, and you decide to bite down on the stew - Tartaglia always found a way to turn your words against you and hurt you, no need to give him more weapons now.

“I changed a lot too. I know I was insufferable as a teen”, he must have taken your silence as a free pass to continue whatever nonsense he’s sprouting, “I am sorry”.

The last three words catch you off guard, a piece of fish almost stuck in the throat from the jolt. Ajax takes you by surprise once again, for him to finally acknowledge and apologize for all the pain he caused and years he tormented you?

You blink and look at him intently, his facial expression changing into an unusually somber one. It seems authentic enough.

“Let’s start from the scratch?

You contemplate unsure what to say.

Was he lying?

Looking back, you in a sense are luckier than most of Childe's victims, witnessing his youth, familiarizing and distinguishing the tells of him lying and scheming, observing the way he bloomed into the manipulator he is today firsthand. You see a familiarity in his face and voice, something that helps you from falling to his charms. There's also the added fact that you were and still are an involuntary witness to the way how carnal and bloodthirsty usually friendly Ajax can become. 

When did you catch his attention?

You remember his smile when he first approached you, less teeth and more sincerity that is thereafter,a hand outstretched to you. It happens on the next day after his arrival, almost as cold and unpleasant as the previous one. You brush the limb away like a noisy fly, secretly angry at his arrogant attitude and how effortlessly he endured training. His smiling doesn’t stop, yet you feel a sudden change in the air around you.

Would your fate be different if you took his hand?

You can't forget how your mind disconnected from your body for the second time. It was Ajax again vying for your attention akin to a spoiled child, and like one he threw a tantrum when you refused to give him any. The poor recruit you were talking with was hospitalized the same day, as you helplessly watched the carnage before you. You didn't fight, you didn’t flee, you just froze, like a scared animal, paralyzed by fear, yet somehow too detached from feelings. That day was bizarre: once you felt reality, it was solid and undeniable and then you didn't. The realness of the current diffused, slipped through the fingers like sand, leaving nothing but unreliable and delusive reveries behind.

Will he let you go? 

“People do change and I see that you changed too. I don’t think of you as a teen you were” you carefully pick the words, Tartaglia visibly blooms, thinking that his apology worked, yet your next words snuff out his triumph: “but my memories stay the same. I don’t think we can start from scratch”

You bite the tongue, the second part still coming out too harsh for your liking. The moment of sincerity is interrupted, you see him, changing the masks, unsure what to do. It seems for the first time it was you who caught him off guard. You guess which one of the two standard facades he will decide to show to you, having spent years by his side to observe him masterfully wielding both, the friendly one with a vacant smile that never reaches his dead, dead eyes or the calculating one, distant and devoid of humanity?

In the end he uses none, a hurt still evident, dripping in his tone, face and moves - is it another mask you never got to see or is it real? - “So that is your answer”, he leans in closer, dull cerulean eyes looking right into yours.

You hold his stare, nodding, instead of saying anything and he hums, sitting back and wearing the cold mask, reserved for his enemies: “Just wanted to remind you that I am the Harbinger and you are just a position higher than an ordinary agent”. Despite seeing it so many times, it’s the first time he directs it at you and you have to suppress the shiver. The unsaid threat hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you.

You two are no longer solemn [First] and annoying Ajax, who trails your steps behind like a puppy, no, you are a special agent [Last] and Eleventh Fatui Harbinger Tartaglia, to whom you are personally assigned by Tsaritsa herself. Even possessing vision and delusion yourself you can’t match Childe’s power, and your loss would be easy to overlook if your harbinger wished for it. Honestly speaking, there are a lot of things he could do to you without anyone questioning it, the Harbingers being the second most powerful figures in the organization, right after Tsaritsa herself. You heard the stories of Krupp and other assistants who got missing under Il Dottore, you heard of horrible accidents happening to the people Scaramouche dislikes, you heard about the injuries Signora inflicts on the unfortunate recruits when she is in foul mood, yet you never thought that Tartaglia will abuse his power in the same way.

“Don’t worry” he seems to have taken mercy on you, “I won’t use my position like that, it’s cheating and I like to play the fair game”, despite the seemingly reassuring words , you don’t let yourself relax, knowing him for years.

“Don’t think I will back down though, I am not the type to give up”

#yandere genshin impact #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere tartaglia #Yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #Yandere #Childe #Tartaglia #Dialogues are hard #My brain is melting #It's 4 am where I live #Reader will have a crush on Zhongli in ch 2 #my writing

[fridayfirefly]

Two Birds [Part Two]

Read Two Birds on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [Two Birds Series]

For Maribat March Day 31 - Reunion

The school trip to Gotham was supposed to be fun. It was supposed to be a reward to the class, a celebration of the recent defeat of Hawkmoth by Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marinette wanted to celebrate. She really didn't want to cry on the trip. Yet, as the plane touched down in Gotham, Marinette was staring out the plane window at the rain and the setting sun, rubbing her eyes, trying her best to brush away the tears before they formed.

"Are you okay, Marinette?" Alya looked over at Marinette, concern visible on her face.

Marinette nodded weakly, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. "I'm fine. I just... I have some bad memories associated with Gotham. One of my childhood friends... his parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham and I lost contact with him after that. It's always been a very raw subject for me."

Alya opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, Lila leaned across the aisle to interrupt the conversation. "Your childhood friend's parents were murdered on a trip to Gotham? It's okay to admit that you're scared of Gotham because of the supervillains. You don't have to come up with some outlandish story for why you're upset."

Marinette glared over at Lila, her eyes shiny from both her tears and her anger. "I wasn't talking to you, Lila, but for your information, I'm not making up a story. I wouldn't lie about the death of my friend's parents. I hate liars."

Lila flinched back, her eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I just wanted to make sure that you knew that you could tell the truth. We wouldn't judge you for it."

Alya frowned, giving Lila a stern look. "Lila, Marinette is seriously upset. I don't think that this is the right time to lecture her."

"Oh, of course." As soon as Alya turned away from her, Lila's expression was murderous. Marinette could care less. She turned away and ignored Lila, not in the mood to deal with the liar's taunts. If she could just hold back her tears until they got off the plane, maybe she could pretend that it was the rain that was making her face wet.

It took an hour to get from the plane to the hotel room, and that hour was torture for Marinette, who spent the entire journey holding back tears. As soon as Alya shut the door to their hotel room with a click, Marinette finally let herself cry, curling up into a ball on the hotel bed.

Marinette felt Alya wrapped her arms around her in a hug. "I've got you, Marinette. It'll be okay."

Marinette didn't know how long she cried for. All she knew was that when the tears finally stopped, the sky had gone dark outside. "What time is it?"

"It's a little past eight. I texted Nino to tell Ms. Bustier that you weren't feeling well, so she won't be bothering you with any class president duties tonight."

"Thanks." Marinette shifted herself from lying on her side to sitting up. "Have I ever told you what happened to Dick?"

Alya shook her head. "You've mentioned him a few times, but only that you two were friends when you were younger, and then lost touch."

Marinette sighed. "It all started when I was nine years old. My Grandma Gina was babysitting me for the weekend. She was old friends with the ringmaster of a circus that was in Paris, so she took me there to stay the weekend. That was where I met Dick and his parents..."

Marinette told the story in bursts, stopping to cry every few minutes when she got too emotional to continue. "...And I never spoke to him again after that. Gotham's foster care records aren't open to the public, and I stopped myself from Googling his name a long time ago. It just hurts too much to get my hopes up."

Alya wrapped Marinette up in another hug. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I wish there was something I could do to make this better."

"I think this trip might be good for me. It hurts a lot now, but I think once it's over I might finally feel a little more at peace."

"I hope so. But if there's ever any time where you need to just stop and let it all out, I'll be there for you."

"Thanks, Alya. You're the best."

Alya was Marinette's best friend, even if Alya was friends with Lila as well. That was Marinette's one regret - when she unmasked Hawkmoth and Mayura as Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancour, there was no way to unmask Lila as a liar as well. Gabriel refused to name Lila as an accomplice, aware that admitting to having manipulated a teen girl into performing acts of terrorism wouldn't look good for him. So Lila was free to continue her reign of terror, though at least now Marinette could be rightfully angry with her, without fear of being akumatized.

----------

The class trip was partially sponsored by the Wayne Scholarship Foundation. Usually, the Wayne Scholarship Foundation only awarded scholarships, given to students all across America to pay for college, but after Hawkmoth's defeat and the media coverage that followed, a rather large sum was awarded to Marinette’s class for their bravery on the front lines of Hawkmoths' attacks. The Wayne Foundation organized tours and shows for them all over the city, starting with a tour of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens bright and early on the first morning of their trip. Then the class would go on a walking tour of Gotham during the afternoon, ending at a high-end sushi restaurant for dinner, followed by a night exploring East Hills Park during one of their famous firework shows. The late May day promised to be warm and sunny, so Marinette put on her favorite red floral sundress with a jean jacket overtop to hide the thin spaghetti straps, and sturdy tennis shoes to handle all of the walking she would be doing.

"Marinette!" gasped Lila as soon as Alya and Marinette walked into the main lobby. "Are you sure that your outfit is dress-code approved?"

Marinette rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lila. With my jacket on, this fits the dress code. I wouldn't make something that I can't wear."

"Okay. I was just checking. Your dress seemed a little too short to me, but I guess I just prefer something more modest."

As Lila walked away, Alya placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder in comfort. "I'm sure Lila didn't mean to come off as slut-shaming. I think she's just lashing out because wants to make sure you don't get in trouble for your outfit." Even Alya sounded uncertain of her explanation, as not even she believed herself. Without the support of Hawkmoth, Lila was no longer a cunning and calculated mastermind of manipulation. Now she was just a scared bully, desperately doing whatever she could to maintain her power over the class.

"Whatever," Marinette sighed. "I won't let her ruin my trip."

"That's the spirit. Besides, anyone with taste would know that your outfit looks super cute.”

Marinette smirked. "Are you saying that you don't think Lila has taste?"

"Definitely not as much taste as you. You're the Queen of Fashion Trends. You always look good." Alya put her arm around Marinette's shoulder. "Plus, you know better than to wear cowboy boots to school."

Marinette giggled as she remembered the incident. Lila came to school showing off her 'authentic' cowboy boots from America, seemingly unaware that they were the ugliest shoes anyone in their class had ever seen.

"You'll have a great day today, I promise." Alya walked with Marinette to the bus waiting outside. They got a seat up near the front, by Nino and Adrien.

Adrien had been the most affected by Hawkmoth's unmasking, given that it revealed his Father as a terrorist and his Mother as a coma-patient. All seemed lost for Adrien, as a team of Paris's best doctors revealed that Emilie Agreste was braid-dead. They planned on pulling the plug on Emilie's life support until, Amelie Graham de Vanily revealed that by combining the twin rings she and her sister owned with Ladybug's power of creation, together they had the power to bring Emilie back to life. Marinette was skeptical, after all, Amelie seemed to have ulterior motives in everything she did, but how could Marinette refuse when it was the only thing that she could do to help Adrien. In the end, she decided to help, no matter the consequences. Miraculously, it worked. Emilie was brought back to life and Adrien had a mother again.

However, in the aftermath of her decision, Marinette realized one crucial detail. In all of the chaos of deciding whether or not to work with Amelie, when she based her final decision on Adrien, she did it because he was her friend, not because he was her crush. At that moment, she realized that the overwhelming crush she had on Adrien since the age of thirteen had faded. In its place was a beautiful friendship.

"Good morning," chirped Adrien.

"What's up, dudes?" chimed in Nino.

"I can't believe we're here in Gotham. I thought our class trip to London was cool, but this is just incredible. I can't believe that the Wayne Foundation organized all of this for us," Alya gushed.

Marinette smiled. She knew that her friends deserved the vacation. Alya, Nino, and Adrien (though his involvement as Aspik was brief) all helped in the fight against Hawkmoth, even though they never revealed their superhero identities to each other. "What are you all most excited about?"

"I can't wait to see the Superhero Museum," said Alya. "I can't believe we were invited to the ribbon-cutting ceremony of the new exhibition."

"It is a celebration of the defeat of Hawkmoth. I suppose they wanted some real Parisians there to see it."

"I'm excited for Super: an American Musical, with the original cast. Did you guys know that this is their last week in Gotham before the show starts on Broadway!" Nino cheered.

Marinette smiled. "That is cool. I've heard that it's a fan favorite to win a Tony this year."

When all eyes landed on Adrien to answer the question, he shrugged. "I just want to experience everything. And take a lot of pictures. I promised my Mom that I would send her some."

"How about we take one now?" Marinette suggested.

Adrien nodded and the group of friends squeezed together to take a selfie.

"How about you, Marinette?"

"The Wayne Foundation Fundraising Gala," Marinette answered promptly. "It's one of the most influential events in fashion. I've heard that celebrities wear their second-best outfits to the Met Gala and save their best for the Wayne Gala. I know that the Wayne Foundation is paying for a shopping trip to pick out an outfit for the Gala, but I made my dress own and brought it here."

Alya laughed. "I should have guessed."

Marinette smiled sheepishly. "I couldn't resist. This is the first opportunity I've had to wear my newest creation."

"Do you have pictures of it?" asked Adrien.

Marinette shook her head. "I'm not showing anyone until the Gala. I'm keeping it safe in my room. I don't want to jinx anything."

"Hawkmoth is gone. We're in Gotham, living it up. Life is good." Alya summarized, and the whole group chimed in their agreement. Life was good.

----------

"Is everything in this city named after the Waynes?" asked Nino as they stepped off the bus in from of the Martha Wayne Memorial Botanical Gardens.

"The Waynes are one of the oldest and wealthiest families in Gotham. When you're that rich, life is just a game of buying your name onto as many buildings as possible," Adrien answered.

"The Waynes and their extraordinary money are the reason why we're here, so I'm willing to forgo making fun of everything they put their name on," Alya decided.

Once they got through the doors to the Botanical Garden, Marinette was entranced. Flowers of every shade surrounded her, the sound of rushing water and the rustling of leaves was the only thing she could hear, the smell of pollen and fresh air filled her lungs. It was heavenly.

"I'm Olivia, but you can all call me Liv," spoke the blonde tour guide as she approached the class. "I'll be giving you a tour of the Botanical Gardens, the largest sanctuary for endangered plants in New Jersey. We're known especially for our orchid garden, which we'll walk through at the end of our tour."

As the tour continued, Marinette noticed that one hallway was blocked off by a sign reading: Hydrangea Exhibition Coming This Fall.

Liv pointed out the hallway. "Down that hallway is the upcoming Hydrangea Exhibition, which is replacing the old New Jersey Wildflower exhibit. Now, I know you're all from out of town, but if you're even in Gotham again, make sure you check out the Botanical Gardens. We're always getting new exhibits-"

Liv was cut off by the sound of shattering glass. One of the panes of glass making up the room had been shattered, and shards rained down on screaming tourists. Marinette's eyes widened as she recognized Poison Ivy, lowering herself through the now opened ceiling on her vines. "You thought you could destroy the native vegetation of this city and get away with it? Nothing escapes my notice. Now, I would like to have a little chat with whoever's in charge here."

Liv motioned for all the students to get down, whispering, "As long as we stay out of Poison Ivy's way, we'll be perfectly fine. Just stay calm and stay quiet."

Marinette watched as the Director of the Botanical Gardens came out to reason with Poison Ivy. He pleaded with the villain, "We won't destroy any of the wildflower gardens, I swear. I'll make sure myself that the wildflower exhibit will be moved to public parks all across Gotham."

Poison Ivy shook her head. "That's not good enough. You think you can wash your hands of these flowers so long as someone else offers to take them? How long do you think the wildflower gardens will last without any sort of protection?"

"We'll make sure that the gardens are protected, I promise."

Narrowing her eyes, Poison Ivy gave the Director a cruel smile. "I hope for your sake, Mr. Joseph Hoffman of 524 Shelton Avenue, that nothing happens to those flowers. Otherwise..." Poison Ivy let the threat hang in the air, using her vines to ascend back up to the ceiling.

The next few moments were so chaotic and full of movement that Marinette couldn't quite piece together what had happened. All she knew was that one second Poison Ivy was leaving the way she came and the next second, Batman and Robin were facing her down in the middle of the Botanical Gardens.

"Oh, hello Batman, Robin. It's so nice to see you. I was just leaving though, so unless you want to fight me where all these plants - and civilians, I suppose - could get hurt, I would step out of my way."

"Poison Ivy, we both know that I can't just let you go free after you threatened this man's life."

Poison Ivy sighed dramatically. "Oh well, I gave you a chance. Now it looks like I'll have to start getting civilians involved. The villain's eyes panned over the room, her eyes just happening to make contact with Marinette's for a split second before Marinette looked away. But that split second was enough. Marinette felt vines start to wrap around her forearms, yanking her forward.

Marinette was pulled all the way over to Poison Ivy, Batman, and Robin, until she was stopped in between the villain and heroes. "What's your name?" Poison Ivy asked, a menacing smile on her face.

"M-Marinette," she stuttered out, eyes wide.

Batman's expression was stoic and unyielding, while Robin looked at her with wide, stunned eyes. Batman spoke, "Why don't we move this outside where no one - plants or civilians - will get hurt."

Poison Ivy nodded. "I will require a head start, though, so I'll keep my vines wrapped around Marinette's throat. As soon as I'm out of range the vines will go slack and she'll be able to go on with her day. However, if you start to come after me before then, I'll tighten my vines and poor little Marinette might not make it."

Marinette stiffened as the vines grew around her throat, just loose enough for her to take shallow breaths. Poison Ivy disappeared from view, but Marinette continued to stay perfectly still, desperately trying to slow her breathing before she hyperventilated. No one made a move toward Marinette, no one willing to risk the consequences of making a move while Poison Ivy could still control the vines.

After what felt like hours, but was really only about five minutes, the vines relaxed and fell to the floor. Marinette collapsed to the ground, lowering herself into the seated position so she could breathe a little bit easier.

"Are you alright?" asked Robin, kneeling next to her. "Are you having any trouble breathing?"

"I'm okay. I didn't get hurt. I was just scared."

Robin got up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "Why don't we get you back with the rest of your group. Are you here with your family?"

Marinette shook her head. "I'm here on a school trip."

Robin walked Marinette over to her class, handing her off to Ms. Bustier, who let out a sigh of relief as she gently placed her hand on Marinette's shoulder. "I know that was a very scary situation, Marinette. If you would like, I can take you and Alya back to the hotel."

"No way!" protested Marinette. "I didn't even get hurt. Plus, we have the walking tour of Gotham today. I don't want to miss it."

"Are you sure?" Ms. Bustier glanced over toward Batman.

Batman joined the conversation, saying, "If Marinette prefers to continue her day as normal, then I would advise following Marinette's lead. Often, the best way to recover from an encounter with a villain is to go on with your life as normal."

Marinette nodded. "I want to stay with the rest of the class and go on with our day."

Ms. Bustier still looked hesitant but conceded anyway. "Alright. I think our tour of the Botanical Gardens is over, though. I doubt that they would let us continue, what with shattered glass all over the floors."

Liv led the group out of the building, commenting with a sigh, "It's a shame that Poison Ivy came and ruined the tour. The orchid garden is such an amazing exhibit, and now none of you will get to see it. Unless..." Liv glanced around. "There's no broken glass in the orchid garden, so I don't suppose why we couldn't leave the Botanical Garden through the side-exit past the orchid garden. What do you say, Marinette?"

Marinette smiled. "That sounds wonderful."

As the tour group turned to enter one of the hallways branching off of the main room, Marinette glanced behind her one last time. She made eye contact with Robin, who was watching her leave, an expression of wonder on his face. Marinette turned back around self-consciously rubbing the back of her neck. She wasn't sure why Robin looked at her like that. It wasn't a look that one would give a stranger, and yet they had never met before. Marinette thought it was odd, but the thought was gone from her mind as soon as her class entered the orchid garden. I'm here in Gotham for a week to have fun, she reminded herself, so no more investigating every strange occurrence.

----------

The walking tour of Gotham was just as fun and informative as Marinette anticipated, packed with interesting facts and amazing sights. She got a bunch of high-quality pictures of Gotham, good for putting in the blog post that Marinette (as class president) was in charge of putting together to go on the school website. Best of all, Lila didn't bother her for the whole tour. Even Lila knew that she couldn't bully Marinette and get away with it, after what Marinette had been through the morning.

The sushi restaurant was amazing too. Marinette had eaten sushi a few times before, but never anything as high-quality as what was served in the restaurant. Marinette decided that if this was what a field trip funded by the Wayne Foundation was like, then she was incredibly excited for the week to come.

Aside from the unfortunate interruption at the Botanical Garden, the day was perfect. Yet, Marinette couldn't stop thinking about the strange look on Robin's face. Had she done something wrong? Was she really safe from Poison Ivy? The thoughts lingered in her head, pestering her every time she felt safe and content.

"Listen up, class!" called out Ms. Bustier. "You'll all have exactly two hours to explore East Hills Park. The firework show starts in approximately half an hour, and ends half an hour before you have to meet up here, which should give you plenty enough time."

Marinette followed Adrien, Alya, and Nino off the bus and into the park. The group of friends started to explore the park, stumbling upon the statues and fountains that were scattered about the grounds.

"I found another Wayne!" Nino shouted from a few meters away. "This statue was dedicated to Patrick Wayne, who was Mayor of Gotham City - this was before they changed the name to just Gotham - from 1896-1904. His most notable achievement from his time in office was that he built over thirty new schools and eleven new library buildings in the city. He was known for his dedication to educating the City of Gotham."

It had become an inside joke between the group to try and find as many things in Gotham named after the Waynes as they could. The task turned out to be much less difficult than they had anticipated, so the group quickly switched tactics and began looking up the various Waynes to see what they actually did with their lives, to determine whether they deserved their names on the various buildings and statues of Gotham.

"He actually sounds like he deserved a statue," said Adrien, looking down at his phone at the Wikipedia article he had pulled up. "Not like Augustus Wayne, who never had a job and gambled away nearly a quarter of the Wayne fortune, yet still has a bridge and a fountain in this park named after him."

Marinette chimed in, "My favorite is Georgiana Wayne. Apparently, a reporter was harassing her over the fact that she was a divorcee and Theodore Wayne was her second husband, and she told that reporter to, quote, 'Fuck off, you lousy son of a bitch. If my husband doesn't mind that I am a divorcee, I don't see why you should.'"

"I wonder if she has any statues in the park," said Alya.

"I doubt it. Her Wikipedia article is only four paragraphs long."

Alya frowned. "That's a shame. Augustus Wayne does nothing of importance with his life and gets a whole bridge named after him, but Georgiana Wayne is a total badass in the 1920s and gets nothing."

"We'll have to bring it up with Bruce Wayne at the fundraising Gala," joked Marinette.

"Good idea." Alya glanced down at her phone. "It's almost time for the fireworks show to start. According to the class groupchat, everyone is gathering on the south shore of the duck pond. There are benches there, and it should have a good view."

"I'll meet you guys there," said Marinette. "I just want to get a few more pictures before it gets too dark."

Marinette started taking pictures of the fountains and flowerbeds, wandering aimlessly through the park. She was busy getting the best angle to take a picture of a maple tree framed by the sunset when she bumped into someone walking behind her.

"Oh, I'm so sorry-" Marinette began to apologize, but as soon as she recognized just who she bumped into she was at a loss for words. "Dick?"

"Marinette?" Dick's voice was deeper than Marinette remembered, yet still hauntingly familiar. His wide blue eyes stared into hers.

Marinette couldn't hold it together. She burst into tears, launching herself into his arms. "Dick, I thought I would never see you again. What are you doing here?"

"I heard your name on the news when they were reporting about Poison Ivy's vandalism at the Botanical Gardens. I did a little googling and found out about your class trip. It took a little digging into the Wayne Foundation website, but I found the approved itinerary for the trip and decided to track you down at East Hills Park. I knew I had to see you again."

"You did that for me?" Overhead the fireworks started going off, extravagant flashes of color that Marinette ignored completely. She couldn't tear her eyes off of Dick. When she imagined her reunion with him, she never really considered that he would be all grown up. No longer was Dick the twelve-year-old boy that Marinette remembered from her childhood. Dick was now five years older and sixteen inches taller.

"Of course I did. Marinette, I've missed you so much."

"I tried to get back in contact with you but Gotham's CPS refused to release any information to me. I kept calling and calling but they wouldn't tell me anything." The tears returned with a vengeance, and Marinette started to sob. "I gave up on finding you and I'm so sorry."

"I don't blame you. You have to know I don't blame you. It's me who should be apologizing. I could have tracked you down but I never did."

Marinette sniffled. "Why didn't you?"

"I was a coward." Marinette opened her mouth to protest but Dick cut her off. "I was scared of losing another person I loved. I shut everyone out and by the time I was ready to let people in again, I was afraid that you wouldn't want to be a part of my life again."

"What made you change your mind?" asked Marinette.

"No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't forget you. It was stupid of me to think that I ever could in the first place. You were my best friend Marinette. You still are, if you'll have me."

Dick looked at her with such longing that Marinette knew she could never deny him. Her face softened. "Of course I will."

"Thank you." Dick held onto Marinette tighter.

Marinette closed her eyes and melted into his embrace. The fireworks show continued, bathing the park in beautiful colors, but Marinette felt no need to watch it. She knew that she already had the most beautiful thing in the park in her arms.

Taglist: @maribatmarch-2k21 @jayjayspixiepop @buginetye @ultimatetornshipper

#maribat #dickinette #maridick #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #dick grayson #miraculous ladybug fic #my work #MaribatMarch2021

[neakco]

The Lost Temple ch. 2

Ao3 Ch.1 Ch.3 Masterlist

Marinette doesn't fully trust the American Heroes but knows that she probably needs their help.

Tim doesn’t trust these two teens that are definitely hiding something.

Yet they made camp together anyway.

Ch.2 Sleepless Night

It had taken longer then they would have like to figure out a watch schedule. While they had both agreed to an alliance, neither group trusted the other.

 

Finally a compromise was made. Each group set their own schedule. Marinette and Adrien agreed to each do half the night. While the Trio took one 2 hour shift each.

 

Adrien would take the first 3 hours and would be starting his shift with Superboy. Impulse had the 2nd watch which he would share with both of them before she would finish out the night with Red Robin.

 

Marinette was a little nervous, she knew Superboy had heard Plagg earlier. They weren’t used to others being able to hear as well as her Kitty. She was lucky that her bond with Tikki allowed communication via emotions.

 

She stared up at the stars, at least this wouldn’t be the first time she had gone without sleep for a mission. She glanced briefly at the tent the American heroes had set up. It looked cramped. She was quite happy with her blanket.

 

Her and Adrien had tried using tents before but he preferred to sleep up high and she enjoyed the connection to the plants she got on the ground. It always allowed her to feel more rested, even if, like tonight, she didn’t actually sleep.

 

Adrien came to let her know it was her turn so she rolled up her blanket and went to join Impulse.

 

The boy never seemed to stop, he constantly dashed back and forth as he talked non-stop about everything.

 

“Doesn’t that drain your energy?”

 

He stopped short as if he had forgotten she was there. “No, well yes, but II can quickly get back to civilization for snacks.”

 

She nodded as the hero began to move around and started talking about his favourite snacks. She had an idea to run past Red Robin once he joined her on watch. She would suggest it to Impulse but she had a gut feeling that would be a bad idea.

 

 

Tim woke a little early for his turn and crept towards the trees in order to observe Marinette and Bart.

He was a little surprised that she seemed interested in the one-sided food conversation. At least he had assumed it was one-sided until she chirped in with a question about Bart’s preferences on French pastries. He didn’t expect the girl to become so offended when Bart told her he didn’t like croissants.

 

Tim decided that it was close enough to his watch and stepped out of the shadows.

 

Impulse flew into the trees in his surprise while Marinette hadn’t moved. Had he lost his touch? No, she may not have jumped but he noticed she had a hand to her back where it hadn’t been before. He concluded that she had probably reached for a weapon.

 

“Seriously Rob? I love you but that’s just mean.”

 

Tim smirked, “Maybe next time you will pay attention.”

 

“You’re a bat, doesn’t matter how much I pay attention.” Bart grumbled as he waved goodnight to Marinette and headed off to find his sleeping bag.

 

Tim turned back to Marinette and was shocked by the level of malice being directed at him. “What did I…”

 

“Don’t you ever do that again.” Her voice, while harsh, was soft and filled with concern. “I could have killed you. If it was Adrien you had startled you wouldn’t be alive.”

 

Tim swallowed his retort. Normally he would think it hilarious that this tiny enigma thought that she or her delicate looking friend could hurt him, but there was something there. It was the way every sound stilled at her anger, the way his gut yelled at him to run. Putting all this together with their first conversation, he began to wonder if the two teens had been granted power by the gods.

 

Marinette was taking deep meditative breaths. “You are lucky I analyze before reacting.”

 

“Sorry. I had figured you had a sixth sense.”

 

She eyed him, “You were testing a theory?”

 

“Yes. I like to know what my allies are capable of and it’s not like you two have been very forthcoming.”

 

It surprised Tim to see her relax at this rather than get angrier.

 

“The decision to share isn’t really up to me or Adrien. I assume it is similar to your identity, unless what I've heard about Batman is wrong.”

 

Tim laughed quietly while keeping an eye to their surroundings. “We actually tell people our identities all the time, people just assume we are joking.”

 

Her eyes widened, “That works?”

 

“Well it works if the public's image of your two personas are vastly different. People will believe what they want no matter what you tell them.”

 

He was about to ask if she was thinking of becoming a hero when he noticed her darkening look. Unlike before where it had been anger mixed with concern, this time it was mixed with sadness and pain.

 

“You okay?”

 

“People really do believe what they want.” Her eyes turned wistful and she looked up into the trees. “Really shows you who your real friends are.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” How was he supposed to comfort her? Alfred would probably offer her hot chocolate and sweets.

 

“No, it all happened years ago. I am mostly over it.”

 

Tim let out a sigh of relief, at her look he tried to smile kindly. “No offense but I was raised by the most emotionally distant people and I really had no idea what to do if you started crying.”

 

The sudden laughter surprised him. That wasn’t a normal reaction. He frowned as he watched her try to stifle the sound.

 

“I'm sorry, it’s just, well, welcome to the club.” She started laughing a little bit harder and maybe a bit more broken. “Adrien can tell you some stories. Well I can two, but mine only start a few years back. I don’t have a life's worth like he does.”

 

“But why is that so funny?” He frowned harder trying to understand if he was the joke.

 

He jumped and threw a batarang that thankfully missed when Adrien suddenly dropped out of a tree and landed beside him.

 

“Where we come from it was always better to laugh instead of giving in to emotional distress.” He turned to Marinette, “You okay M'lady?”

 

“I just,” her giggles increased slightly, “strays, it’s always the strays.” She giggled a bit longer before stopping suddenly and glaring at Adrien, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

 

Tim could see the blonde visibly gulp as he lied poorly, “bathroom. Going back to sleep now. Bye.” He quickly left back into the trees and took off roughly in the direction of camp based off the rustling.

 

“You two are very strange.”

 

“Says the talented human commanding literal super humans.” She snorted. “Oh, I almost forgot. Do you think Impulse could quickly map out the jungle for us?”

 

“If he can keep himself from tripping over roots and snakes then maybe. Why didn’t you ask him?” Tim was curious. She had spent an hour with Impulse, there had been plenty of time.

 

“I figured you were the leader and I would have to ask no matter what. Mostly I was worried he wouldn’t be able to but pride would cause him to say yes anyways.”

 

Tim tried to study her expression but it gave nothing away. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

 

“Simple, Impulse acts like a younger Adrien.”

 

 

Marinette thought back, Chat had been so free. She missed those times. Unfortunately reality had hit them both fairly hard. She doubted if they could ever be that carefree again.

 

“I would deny your assessment if I could.” Red Robin leaned back against her tree and typed into his arm. She hadn’t realized there was technology integrated into the suit. She was almost jealous.

 

A holographic map of the jungle was displayed floating above his arm so she leaned forward to gain a better look.

 

Red Robin pointed to a small area causing a dot to appear  “This is our camp.” He gestured to highlight a portion green. “This is the area we checked yesterday. My initial reports showed activity in these areas.” This time the highlighted red, or brown in the areas that overlapped with the searched area.

 

She hummed in thought, “Add another kilometer to the searched radius. Adrien split off a couple times yesterday.”

 

She could see his eyes shift to suspicion briefly but he complied anyway

 

“If you knew that then you never needed Impulse to make a map, you wanted him to find the enemy.”

 

She nodded but stayed silent and observant. It was kind of nice watching someone else think like she does.

 

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea if Impulse was capable of stealth. “She watched him remove the searched area from the map in order to zoom in on the rest.

 

“You have a plan.” She was grinning, she could already tell what he was thinking.

 

The way he looked at her screamed that he knew that she had already figured it out. She was happily surprised when he decided to continue explaining to her.

 

“I propose that we split up. My team has trackers to keep track of our own whereabouts and comms to communicate. I think Superboy and Adrien take this route.” A Blue and red line appeared on the map. “While we take this path more to the right.” This time the line was red and black. She knew they were supposed to represent his colours but they worked just as well for her. She bet Adrien would have a laugh.

 

“I'll have Impulse cover this middle area in between our groups to cover any gaps and act as a runner in case we need anything. Anything to add?”

 

She bit her lip. These were heroes, she could probably trust them, at least a little. Plus Adrien wasn’t able to sense the temple’s magic. “How good is Superboy's x-ray vision?” Damn it, she thought she had fixed her word blurting problem.

 

Red Robin seemed surprised by her words, “What? Why?”

 

She chewed on her lip a bit more before she felt Tikki's reassurance. “What I am about to tell you is secret enough that it could very well get you killed. Are you sure you want to know?”

 

She watched his face carefully. There was hesitation, doubt, curiosity, and finally that thirst for knowledge that got her into trouble constantly.

 

He finally shrugged, “Just an average day for me.”

 

She smiled but dropped her voice into a serious tone. “There is a temple here that was lost underground years ago. No matter what else happens I can not let anyone get the knowledge and treasures it holds.” She remembered some of the things the monks had told her and Adrien without ever actually explaining what the temple was guarding. “If these people find the temple first then best case scenario has them taking over the world.”

 

Red Robin's voice was low, “And worst case?”

 

“They destroy the entire universe as we know it.”

Taglist @toodaloo-kangaroo

#maribat #the lost temple #adventure #rin writes

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives by Chance: Chapter 8- The Final Bow

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

A/N: This is the end. The end of the first ever series, the first ever fanfics I ever wrote. It's melancholic you know? Bidding adieu to Open Heart and Detectives by Chance all at one? Anywho, I hope you enjoy this piece💕

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Rating: Teen (to be safe)

Warnings: Blood, Murder, Swear Words, Gun Violence

I would recommend reading the previous parts first, because I am sure this makes little sense without knowing what happened previously.

Read the previous chapters here!

The trail from the crumpled door to the back ground felt likes hours of navigating through the blazing desert, no one in sight.

The scarlet memoirs of the wounds that now covered her skin did not give her much relief either. Blood soaked into her shirt, colouring it red from cream at a steady rate. Lazy tracks formed as solitary drops slipped down to meet the ground.

Papers clutched with a death grip, her resolve did not waver. After all the goose chase she had done in the manor, she was sure she could do this. But then again, there was not much of a choice there.

Ethan's POV:

A hazy screen appeared before his orbs as they slowly, timidly, fluttered open, as if scared to look around. A blackness had spread around him, and his mind could not make out if it was a musty old dungeon or some place else.

Soft scents of the intoxicating vanilla and bluebell perfume gently let him know of their presence, and he sighed in relief.

Wherever he was, he was close to her.

And with that knowledge came a subtle sense of calm, a realization that as long as he was near her, he wouldn't mind even dying.

He just wanted her, his strength, with him.

He tried to get up, and the wince of pain came almost immediately. His legs ached due to the cramped position in the short space of wherever. As he managed to pull himself up from the sleeping position, a very faint jingle of keys could be heard in the background of his groans.

Then with a click, the front door flew open and he unclearly made out a thud of some kind of folder in the front passenger seat. Soon the driver's seat was occupied as well, and the engine was raved to life.

The scent of vanilla and bluebell grew strong and he knew it was her.

"Pooja?" He whispered so lightly that for a second he wondered if he had even spoken it aloud.

"Ethan! Oh thank fucking god you are- Ah!" She was cutoff mid sentence by a horrifying but muted shriek which had escaped as she tried to close the door.

"Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay!" Worry laced his tone as her other hand painfully completed the supposedly easy task.

"You are okay and I've everything we need to save Lex & Mark. That's all that matters, E."

"What about you?"

But her attention had already shifted to the driving the automobile. She had always been like that, too unconcerned about herself. As well as he knew her, he was sure she had been biting her lip a tad bit harder with every moment just to keep painful screams at bay.

"It doesn't matter."

A shrill roar suddenly invaded the eerie, uncomfortable silence of the abandoned area. The voice was human, but the intensity of the sound reminded them more of an enraged tiger trapped in a cage, ready to pounce at the chance of freedom.

Staying here for a second more could be a dangerous idea.

A slow pain spread though his forehead, an after-effect of whatever that was forcefully injected during his investigation of the murky place, too dishevelled to call it even an office, let alone a hospital. The ache became all-too-consuming, his struggle to keep his eyes open turning futile. The blackness grasped him steadily as consciousness bid adieu and the dangers of the world in front of him, at bay.

End of Ethan's POV

Pooja's clutch on the steering wheel was so hard that the fingernails that dug into its material left deep moon shaped indents, as a mark of their visit. The teeth pressed so deep into her lip that it had drawn blood. The gap of the missing tooth felt like an aftermath of the reckless rescue operations she had led at the building.

Why did her mind refused to cooperate with her now, when she had finally made her way out?

Another line of thought began to form, but before it spread it's being, a second horrifying scream broke through the audible silence like a dagger.

Sweat of hardwork was now the cold sweat of fear. A sense of great danger that lingered now completely flooded every chamber of her heart & she refused to stop.

Digging her teeth into her lips, tears streaming as every movement made her want to shriek and wail in agony, she revved the engine, turned the steering & fled out of there.

————————————

A rash drive followed. She sped through the roads, going straight without a turn until she was sure the they were not being followed.

A safe distance away, she stopped. Every moment was precious now, but she was done. She could not do this anymore.

Hell, she could not do anything anymore.

The left portion of her shirt that she wore was now soaked in scarlet, the stench of blood growing on her. She doubted that if she wasn't a doctor, she would have thrown up or passed out by now.

Pooja looked behind, the scarce daylight making it a difficult job to be done. She was quite sure that Ethan had been overcome by another bout of unconsciousness and the feeling of helplessness spread through her chest, forming a hollow through its path.

Her head felt light too. The injuries were starting to show effects, although the overwhelming sense of failure and danger had already numbed their pain.

Taking a deep breath, and another, and another, she tried to centre herself, though not to much avail.

Something she had realized was now, the necessity to keep moving was a need & not a want.

A slow kick on the gas pedal & she carried on her journey to the final destination.

————————————

At the police station, the unfolding of events occurred like a film sequence set on fast forward.

Pooja had barely made it there, an urgency ringing through her mind, a constant worry that she was late, too late. But thankfully, she wasn't.

Dragging her foot (her entire body, at this point) she entered and almost fell face down on the station floor.

Hastily handing over the evidence she had meticulously collected and suffered all the injuries for, she tried to explain what she had found.

Officers repeatedly asked her to calm down, but she refused. The three of them, Ethan, Alex and Mark, They were her family. They always mattered more than her. They always will.

At last, all she managed was to point a finger at her car, before her body gave up on the fight. A small smile of satisfaction decorated her tired, overworked features. It was a win. A well deserved one. A strange sense of pride, overwhelmed her as she slowly faded into unconsciousness.

————————————

It has been 36 hours since the ghastly raid of Miles's manor.

The evidence collected opened a lot of tied knots, the page from Miles's diary, even though muddy, serving priceless for the investigation. Almost everything got crystal clear from it.

Pooja underwent a major surgery, and was still under bedrest. Minor to Major, there were a plethora of injuries that needed to be treated. Recovery was going to take a long time but her response had been up to the mark.

As for Mark and Alex, the court deemed them not guilty for any of the charges made against them & they were released. The very instant they rushed to the hospital, tears streaming down endlessly both in gratitude & in worry.

Miles Danvers, as expected, was not found. The manor was investigated after the release of Mark & Alex, a big mistake, and nothing was left behind except a few beeping machines & broken furniture. The investigators now await Pooja's recovery for interrogation & to close the case as soon as possible because stories of a deranged murderer roaming around the dark streets doesn't exactly spark a rush of serotonin through the citizens.

Meanwhile in a dark, gloomy alleyway:

It had been seconds too long. The man's pace faltered at slightest sounds, fingers fidgeting the two ring that shone under whatever little light reached the area.

Why were they not here yet?

But his wait was cut off soon. Muffled footsteps echoed like, every step closer increasing their intensity. Even though he had been expecting them, his heart leapt up his throat, which tightened in fear.

He turned around, not being able to make out their faces. But at the time, he found it to be a blessing in disguise, because he was sure he would have thrown up from the fright of being the cause of their anger.

A hand extended out, the silver bracelet dangling from it gleaming in moonlight. It gripped the lapel of his coat, and a scared murmur escaped him without caution.

The person on the other side, let out a slow growl of rage, boiling blood coursing through their veins. The man's teeth chattered, the cold pressing against his skin even more as a chill ran down his spine.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the touch of cold metal against his neck made him shudder.

It was... It was a gun.

"Thi..s, Th..., This w-was not what, w-what we plann-nned upon." He quietly muttered, shocked that sound still escaped through the dryness of his throat.

"What were you supposed to do?" The person, no, the man, That man, growled, the evil of his heart almost visible in the spoken words.

The man stood soundless. It took two hard knocks of the metal to make him speak.

"K-K-Kill"

"And what did you do? Let her escape with a bagful of evidence." The words were being hissed now, with so much intensity that the man was surprised that he hadn't peed his pants yet.

"And since" The gun was displaced and he let out a sigh of relief. "You did such wonderful work, you deserve to be rewarded."

And before the man could even process what just happened, a single shot pierced through the fog settling around, and hit right in the forehead.

Seconds later, his lifeless body met its origin & any sign of life in the alleyway seized to exist.

End Note: Open Heart ended and it feels unreal. I have had a weird, wonderful journey with it. I would have never come to tumblr, make edits or write fanfics if not for it. It is a series which many of us, me included, hold close to our heart.

Firstly, I would like to thank everyone who provided their precious thoughts over the past chapters of this series. I always have & always will hold Detectives by Chance close to my heart, because it has some of my earliest fanfics & it was the beginning of a wonderful journey for me. So if you took your time & have followed this story from the start, I am so very grateful for you. Thank you❤

With OH ending, many have chosen to continue in this fandom & some have decided to move on. Whatever your decision may be, I hope you be happy & have a good time ahead💕

Detectives by Chance gets a Bonus part, with no relation to the storyline, like not an epilogue, but something that will answer the lingering questions. As for if this is really the end of DbC or not, I will let you guys decide that😉

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @helloayz

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

Ethan x Pooja (fics): @aleynareads @stygianflood @choicesaddict5 @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

#pixelberry choices #playchoices #choices stories you play #open heart #choices stories we play #choices #choices open heart #choices oh #my fanfics✒ #pixelberry #pixelberry studios #open heart mc #open heart oc #open heart ethan #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #ethan x pooja #pooja sharma #oh mc #oh ethan #oph choices

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Why Protect Them?

AU: Age Swap Au

Words: 1558

Rating: Teen

Characters: Hatake Kakashi and Uchiha Sasuke

Warnings: Blood, Blood Mention, Murder, Minor Character Death.

Summary: Revenge is something Kakashi has been seeking since he left Konoha. For the pain he felt, the life he lives, the hatred he faced. Yet, when he thinks he has finally gotten that revenge he still feels empty. As if there’s something else for him to do. A masked Shinobi shows up to tell him just what it is he’s missing.

The night air was heavy. Fatigue, anger, hurt, all wearing at him. Pulling him down until his knees buckled and he came crashing to the ground. His body ached, but it didn’t matter.

He’d done it.

He had won the fight, and yet the anger was still there. Burning deep inside of him. Tearing at his soul the same as it had before.

Nothing had changed, and it angered him. No matter how much he wanted to cheer. How happy he should be at his victory, he couldn’t even manage a smile.

“Why!?” Slamming his hands down against the ground, he screamed into the empty air around him. No matter what he did it wouldn’t go away. It refused to leave him alone. A curse placed on him from birth that would follow him until he died.

Lifting his eyes, he stared at the bloody, broken corpse of Konoha’s elder.

Orochimaru.

Leader of Root. Corrupt politician. The person Danzo had told him had made sure he had been left alone growing up. With no one to care for him. No one to love him.

No one to even like him.

“What do I have to do!?” He screamed at the corpse, desperate for an answer. For anything that could make the hurt inside his heart go away for just a little bit.

“I thought that much was obvious,” Scrambling to his feet, Kakashi moved into a defensive position and searched the area for any sign of whoever it was who was trying to talk to him. “Surely you didn’t think this was all you had to do. That taking down one person would solve all of your problems.”

Nothing.

No matter where he looked, or how much he tried to sense the enemy, he couldn’t find them. It annoyed him. He was good at telling where people were, even when they didn’t want him to.

He always knew who was around him and where they were, but right now he was exposed. Susceptible to attack.

And he hated it.

“There’s so many others to go after,” hearing the voice directly behind him, he turned to face his enemy. Except, there was no one there. Just empty space. “You can’t just let them get away with it, can you? Surely you want them all to pay for the part they played in making your life as miserable and empty as it was.”

“Who the hell are you!?” Digging his feet into the ground, he prepared himself to lunge towards his opponent as soon as they were visible. “And why won’t you show yourself to me?”

In the blink of an eye, the enemy appeared. Clad in an Akatsuki jacket with a blue swirl mask hiding his face from view and a hand resting on his hip, clearly not recognizing Kakashi as a threat. Which burned Kakashi on the inside.

Even after taking down Orochimaru, a high-ranking Shinobi of the leaf village and the current Hokage, he still wasn’t considered a serious threat? Who did he have to kill to get some damn respect in this world?

“You’re not really going to let them all forget what they did to you, are you?” The man behind the mask taunted. “All of those people that left you alone with no one to care for you. The villagers who hurled insults at you and hated you for something you couldn’t control?”

No. He didn’t want to listen to this.

Taking a step back he tried desperately to put distance between himself and the stranger as if it would help him to ignore his taunts. But his movement was met by the stranger taking a step towards him. Closing the gap that Kakashi had tried to create.

“No,” he growled, turning angry eyes onto the man who had so rudely interrupted his moment of victory. “No! I won’t become that!”

All it would do is prove them right. Show them that they were correct to fear Kakashi. To hate him. That was the last thing he wanted.

“Why are you holding onto mercy?” the stranger drawled, one empty black eye staring back at Kakashi. “Why would you hold any mercy for the people who hurt you? The ones who shunned you and hated you?”

Another step back met with the stranger closing the gap between them once more. This time coming closer. Stepping up right into Kakashi’s space so that he was hovering over him, his one eye spinning to life with a deep red six-pointed star.

The Sharingan.

“Who the hell are you!?” his feet moved to get him out of there, but before he could even hope to escape there was a hand grabbing hold of the front of his shirt. Holding him in place as the stranger stared down at him, his Sharingan staring down at him with a look Kakashi knew all too well.

Disgust.

“They treated you like shit,” the words burned deep. A reminder of things Kakashi had tried so hard to forget since leaving Konoha. Things he could never leave behind him, no matter how hard he tried to press forward. To forge his own path separate from Konoha. “And you’re still angry, we both know you are. If you didn’t care about Konoha you wouldn’t have gone after Orochimaru.”

Looking past the stranger, Kakashi focused on the dead body still laying on the ground. Covered in his own blood, one arm on the other side of the battlefield where Kakashi had chopped it off when they tried to grab him.

He had been so angry when Danzo had told him the truth before meeting his own death.

The fire had burned in his soul having to hear what role Orochimaru had played in ensuring Kakashi had been left alone. With no one to care for him. How he had manipulated all of the higher-ups into believing the best course of action was lying to Kakashi.

Denying him knowledge of his parents, or his family name. Ensuring that he was hated in the village. Shunned for something he had no control over.

“My friends…”

Obito, Rin, Gai. Even after all his time away from them, he couldn’t forget them. Wouldn’t dare to harm them. They hadn’t done anything wrong, and Konoha was their home. The village they would protect with their lives. He couldn’t…

“Are you so desperate to hold onto those few ties you have in that village that you’re willing to ignore the role everyone else played in making you feel unwelcome in your own village? Treating you like trash!” dragging his eyes back to the masked man, Kakashi found himself unable to focus on anything but the Sharingan that stared back at him with a deep burning hatred. “Cut your bonds! All they are doing is holding you back. Keeping you from getting the revenge you deserve. You don’t need friends. They didn’t do anything for you while you were in Konoha, and they’re not doing anything for you now. As far as they’re concerned you’re a traitor to their village. Someone, they will kill if they see again. So stop holding onto a past that you burned yourself, and focus on what matters.”

What matters.

“Konoha…” the anger returned. Violent and heavy in his heart.

All he had ever been to Konoha was a monster. Someone to hate and fear, even as a child. A liability to their quiet peaceful life.

“This is your chance to get the revenge you deserve. Not just against Orochimaru, but all of Konoha. Every single person who yelled at you, called you a monster, threw you out of their shop. All of them are to blame for the life you led, and you’re already a monster in their eyes. Why not show them what a monster you can really be?”

The masked man finally released his grip on Kakashi’s shirt and took a step back.

“Or are you just going to stand by and let them get away with it all?” his voice shifted. Anger subsiding for a taunting tone. “Pretend that none of it ever happened. Maybe you’re right. I’m sure your friends can forgive you for turning your back on them even when they pleaded with you to stay...because you have that bond.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

His heart ached.

Even when he had trained under Danzo he had held onto his friends, but they didn’t care about him.

They would rather put Konoha and the villagers who hated him over him.

They didn’t want the village they loved so dearly to be fixed. To face the consequences of their actions. They just wanted Kakashi to come home and forget anything bad had ever happened. Act like all was fine with the world.

He couldn’t do that though.

Refused to forget the way he had been treated all his life.

“I’ll burn it to the ground.” he met the masked man’s gaze, anger burning deep in his soul. A hatred he had pushed down for so long. Had tried so hard to ignore it no matter how bad it hurt, because that’s what a good shinobi did.

He was done being a good shinobi. It was time for Konoha to meet the anger of a Jinjuuriki.

“Good,” the masked man straightened himself up, a triumphant note in his voice. “It’s what they deserve.”

#Age Swap AU #Hatake Kakashi #Uchiha Sasuke #Jinchuuriki Kakashi #Akatsuki Sasuke #Blood #Blood Mention #Blood TW #Orochimaru Dies #XD

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

CURSED: CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“Knocking on Heaven’s Door”

Kai Parker x OC!Mack Grace

Series synopsis: "We're both cursed, in a way."

We all know the story of Kai Parker, but he once lived in a very different life. Do you ever wonder what that life looked like?

Chapter summary: Kai realised he fucked, Mack isn’t so willing to forgive him, Joshua is a shading little shit

Warnings: swearing, slight violence, arguing, mention of drug use (or misuse I guess)

Masterlist | series Masterlist

Kai’s affection didn't last long, the second the announcement was over he released Mack's hand with such haste you'd think it'd burnt him. Kai was quick to ignore his girlfriend - looking straight ahead and following the Police with his eyes as they made their way out of the room - but not before announcing they would be questioning certain individuals.

This put Mack's stress on overdrive, knowing that they'd find out that she killed him and that Kai helped destroy the body and they'd both go to prison. The girl shuddered at the thought of the cold, dingy cells; the cool metal bars that would not doubt be lathered in a layer of thick rust; the grumpy, disgruntled guards; and lastly, the inmates - the ones who had done awful things, much more so than she had than her, or even worse, the ones she outdid.

Mack visibly shook, a chill tickling along her spine as the thoughts encased her mind in a state of anxiousness. She hardly noticed the police had left until the jabbing of the bell pierced her ears, bringing Mack back to her senses as she scrambled to her feet. What she'd also failed to notice was that Kai was no longer in the class, having snuck out when he'd let go of her shaking hand.

...

"Who the fuck are you?" Kai hissed, approaching Shawn, shoulders squared and jaw locked. Shawn smirked, leaning away from the wall and closing the distance between them. Both boys were around the same height - neither of them having an advantage of dominance due to being tall.

"None of your damn business." He smirked, winding Kai up even further.

"Oh, you're right - it's none of my damn business that your asking my girlfriend to kiss you in front of me, is it?" Kai mused, a sinister looking smirk reaching his own lips. Shane's didn't falter either.

"Mmm, girlfriend? She looked more like a slut to me." Shawn pondered and Kai's jaw clenched uncomfortably, hands balling into tight fists at his sides.

"What did you just call her?" Kai spat through gritted teeth and Shawn chuckled, looking back at the group of friends stood behind him with amused expressions.

"What? That's what she is, isn't it? I mean you only called her your girlfriend when you pissed off your sister so bad and her ex went missing." Shawn smirked, his friends laughing and egging him on with cheers. "I bet she's the one who killed him, right? Then ever the hero you swoop in, claiming to be her boyfriend so any motive she may hold becomes futile." Shawn declared, before turning back to his friends with outstretched arms. "Am I right, boys?" He called loudly, met with hoots of agreement that made Kai's anger bubble, their laughter creating a scowl on Kai's brows.

"I mean, nice catch though dude - a bet she's a real freak in bed, probably hard to keep up with her, huh?" Shawn taunted.

Shawn only stopped at the impact of Kai's fist colliding with his jaw, snapping the boy's head to the side as Kai's ring caught the soft skin of his cheek, a slither of crimson breaking the surface. Shawn's jaw clenched tight lung, his thumb swiping the blood from his cheek as his dangerous glare met Kai's.

"You son of a fucking bitch!" Shawn growled, grabbing Kai by his jacket and shoving him into the wall behind him. "Don't you dare fucking touch me again!"

"Or you'll what?" Kai smirked, Shawn's nostrils now flared and his breathing heavy. He was clearly bothered by how unaffected Kai was, this frustration showing clearly when he moved to punch Kai.

But Kai got there first.

No one was really sure how I'd happened, including Kai, but next thing either of them new a teacher was peeling Kai off of Shawn as he straddled the boy, landing punch after punch to his bartered and bruised face.

...

And yet weeks went by and neither Mack nor Kai said a word to each other.

Awkward silences became more awkward, uncomfortable moments became more uncomfortable, wistful gazes became more wistful.

It was getting too much, and Mack was dying for Kai just to say something to her, yet she was too stubborn to say anything first. She sighed heavily, slamming the front door behind her and dumping her bag on the floor. Mack quickly chucked the car keys onto the table before walking into the kitchen for a glass of water. For the past month Mack has been borrowing her dad's car to get to school.

"Hey dad!" She called and Ian soon walked round the corner, joining her in the kitchen.

"Hey, kiddo." He smiled, "how was school?" But before Mack got a chance to answer Kim called from the other room.

"Mack! Kai's here!" The colour instantly drained from Mack's face, her smile falling and her thought spiralling into dread.

Why was Kai there? And why had he now decided to talk to her?

Mack quickly shook off the thoughts, pulling on a hard stare and calling as emotionlessly as she could to Kim,

"I don't want to talk to him. Tell him to leave!" Kim merely shrugged, giving Kai a half-ass apologetic look before letting the slab of wood slam shut in his face, the tiny draft the force created combined with the monotone drawl of Mack's words felt like it hit Kai's face almost as hard as if the girl had charged outside and slapped him across the face herself. He took a deep swallow, choking down the lump in his throat as he stared blankly at the door, fist twitching as he tried to make up his mind.

Another hollow knock on the door. Kim's hand still remained on the handle, so she simply yanked it open before giving Kai a bored look, Amber eyes rolling dramatically.

"Look, lover boy, give it a rest. She doesn't want to talk to you." Mack's sister deadpanned, before letting the door smack shut with an even louder thud than the first time. Kai took a deep breath, his chest rising greatly as he rose his hand another time.

Another hollow knock on the door. Kim scoffed, turning to open the door once again - figuring it could be another person as the pause between knocks had been much longer this time. The second Kai's face met hers Kim huffed out an exasperated sigh, not even bothering to speak before letting the door close dully in Kai's face. A wince escaped him when the last thud met his ears, shoulders slumped as he slowly made his way back to his jeep.

He'd just have to wait Mack out.

10pm. Perfect. Kai claimed out his car hastily, limbs aching after being cooped in his jeep for the last five or so hours. He crept as quietly as possible past her front windows, letting out a small sigh of relief when he noticed that the curtains were already closed so he wasn't in trouble of being seen. Only one light beacons out from the house, the yellow hue of Mack's lamp echoing into the crisp night air. Even though it was already February, the weather was still as harsh as it had been throughout the bitter January.

Kai grabbed onto the bricks, suddenly much more appreciative to the fact he had a small magical boost as he scaled the side of the small building.

Mack nearly jumped three foot in the air, her heart beating so fast she thought it jump out of her chest. The unexpected, unwelcome and unnecessary rattle of Kai's knuckles against her old window bounced off her bedroom walks, filling her ears with anxiety as she turned to see her ex-boyfriend's concerned face looking into her room. Mack inhaled sharply, biting her lips to hold back her grimace as she realised what he'd seen.

The window climbed upwards, Kai's hands sliding the glass up enough to stumble through until he was awkwardly stood in Mack's room, both teens staring at each other uncomfortably.

"That's how you've been coping?" Mack's gaze dropped to her bed, guilt washing over her at the sight of the half-rolled joint. "Weed? Really?" Kai scoffed and Mack's guilt soon rolled into anger, rage.

"That's none of your business." She said with an unturned nose, scooping the mess into a bag and shoving it in the little drawer in her desk which held a small lock. The sound Kai made resembled one of mocking laughter, short and bitter.

"None of my business, huh? I think you doing drugs is damn well my fucking business!" Kai demanded, shaking his head at her in disbelief.

"It stopped being your business the second you decided to dump me!" Mack was raising her voice now, her enmity melting into her face in a deep red hue. Kai's jaw clenched and unclenched, his eyes burning holes through the little wooden drawer shed just stuffed the weed into.

"That was a mistake." He muttered and Mack's eyes lit up with fury.

"A mistake? Kai you've made hundreds of mistakes!" Mack said harshly, voice cracking. Kai wiped his hand over his jaw, hiding his pout. "No. That wasn't a mistake, Kai. That was your shitty past making you doubt me as much as you doubt your shitty father and your shitty coven!" Mack shouted, eyes shellacked with tears.

And awkward silence fell over them, but Kai's stung expression told Mack everything she needed to know.

"Kenz..."

"Why are you here, Kai?!" Mack spat.

"Ben, he's uh- he's been confirmed dead." Kai murmured meekly, pressing his lips together. Mack's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"What?!" She whispered-shouted. Kai nodded.

"The police- they confirmed it, earlier. It was on the news." A somber mood had undertaken the room, a mutual air of what-do-we-do-now becoming the two teens.

"How-?"

"They found the ashes in the woods. And Kim talked." Kai admitted and Mack's face quickly morphed back into one of acrimony.

"That bitch-" Kai's hand quickly caught her wrist, pulling Mack back into him before she could get any further. He quickly backed her up into the door, a finger hovering over her lips.

"Shhhh. I have a sneaking suspicion that your name wouldn't have come up." He whispered calmly, but the fear and anger in his blue eyes were evident.

"What are you going to do?" She asked, a hint of concern creeping into her eyes.

"Well, I was thinking we could run away. You and me." Kai suggested, a hopeful glint to his voice that made Mack scoff.

"You haven't spoken to me in weeks," she emphasised the word heavily, "and you just expect me to run away with you? Not a chance." Mack dismissed, pulling away from Kai and quickly slipping out of her room - feet padding down the stairs swiftly. But Kai's heavy footsteps could be heard behind her.

"Come on, Kenz, you know you want to-" at that Mack turned harshly on her heal to face him

"What makes you think I'd want to go anywhere with you?" She hissed and Kai was taken aback.

"I thought you loved me.." he mumbled and Mack rolled her eyes, but really she was only trying to hide the siege of tears persisting at her bottom eyelids. She continued her path out, pulling the front door open harshly. "Where are you going?" Kai called, before coming to a stop a few feet behind Mack outside the small house.

"I'm just asking myself, why do I," Mack took a pause, inhaling a deep breath, "pick people who treat me like...nothing..." she exhaled deeply, turning around to face him and Kai's bottom lip began to quiver. Tears pooled in his deep blue eyes and he shook his head slightly.

"That's not true." He murmured, head still shaking as Mack kept her eyes trained to the floor. She gave him no response.

Kai's lips smashed to hers, his hands cupping her face and his eyes closed. Mack balled her fists by her sides, trying with all her strength to not kiss back. She finally pulled away, her hand making a hard connection with Kai's cheek.

"No! You don't get to do that, Kai!" She screamed, tears running down Mack's red cheeks. "You don't get to screw everything up and expect to kiss me and make it better!" The tears stung his eyes too now, an expression of sadness over coming him.

"I'm sorry." The words were mumbled, directed at the floor.

"Sorry?! You thought so little of me that I'd throw away what we had for some - some guy I'd just met! I can't be with you if all you can do is think of me as some lying, manipulative bitch like you do you coven! I can't, Kai. God, I can't believe I actually fell in love with someone as- as immature as you!" Mack seethed, but Kai was crying silently now, shaking his head no as she spoke even though deep down he knew every word she spoke was true.

"Please don't leave me." Kai begged, his desperation lacing his deep blue eyes with a rim of sadness, eyes finally making contact with Mack's. "Please, Kenz, I can't live without you."

"Kenz? Oh we are so not at nicknames right now Malachai." Mack spat out his name like is tasted bad, as if the word held a lingering bitter taste on her tongue. It stung Kai, Mack using his full name.

"I love you." Was all Kai suggested and Mack let out a heavy sigh through her tears.

"If you truly loved me, you would have trusted me. I can't be with someone who I have to tread on eggshells around, Kai. I can't do that." Mack cried, biting down on her lower lip to hide a sob. She looked at her feet, then back up again and put on a brave face as her eyes bored into Kai's blue orbs. "We're done." She whispered and Kai's eyes widened.

"No..." he muttered, shaking his head slowly in protest as Mack sorrowfully nodded.

"Yes, we're done. For good. I'm sorry." Mack said authoritatively, wiping the tears away quickly before turning back around and walking over to her dad's car.

"Kenz!" He shouted after her, but Mack pretended to ignore him - a new wave of tears threatening to drip down her chin now. The lights on the car flashed orange, the button on the keys clicked and the door now open. Mack slipped in, seating herself in the car and pushing the keys into the ignition, starting the car with a small sob.

As Mack attempted to shut the door, a strong hand caught it, Kai's wrecked face looking down at her with a pleading beg.

"Please don't leave, don't you get it? I love you Kenz." Kai begged. Mack shook her head.

"Let me go, Kai." He shook his head back, pressing his lips together to stop himself choking over a sob.

"I can't."

"And you've lost the right to call me anything but Mackenzie." She whispered, finally out manning Kai and slamming the door shut, not even hesitating before driving off.

...

The words buzzed through Mack's mind, her eyes trained on the road ahead of her as she desperately drove further away from home. She couldn't put her family through this, not right now, couldn't face him. She had to get away, go somewhere to think.

Mack tapped her foot restlessly, chewing on her bottom lips as she drove down the secluded road. As she approached a corner, she turned around it to see a car parked up at the side of the road, lights flashing.

As she drove closer, she realised it was Kai's father's car, so she made to pull over. Even thought she was avoiding Kai, Joshua hadn't done anything wrong and he could be in serious trouble. Once parked at the side of the road, Mack quickly climbed out her car, locking it behind her and walking over to Joshua - who was stood by his tyre, bent down to examine it.

"Hey, Mr Parker!" She called, arms crossed over her chest, and he looked up.

"Ah, Mackenzie! What are you doing out here alone?" He asked with a small frown.

"Well I was just driving to clear my head and I saw your car...are you okay? Do you need help?" She asked worriedly, stepping back slightly as Joshua rose to stand.

"Actually," he spoke rather menacingly, "there is something you could help with." He continued walking until Mack was backed into a tree and she let out a sharp gasp. Joshua raised his hand. "Phasmatos Somnus!" he spoke, and Mack's body fell limp, eyes closed as she fell unconscious.

#smut #image #images #chris wood #elena gilbert #stefan salvatore #the vampire diaries #tvd #damon salvatore #kol mikaelson #kai parker fanfic #kai parker x reader #kai parker smut #kai tvd #kai parker #kai parker image #chris wood images #chris wood x reader #chris wood image #chris wood smut #tvd fanfic #the vampire diaries image #the vampire diaries fanfic

[henry-cavill-baby]

To Study (Insects) │ 1

Pairing: Clark Kent (MoS) x Original Female Character

Warnings: None 

Word Count: 3k~

Summary: Connie and Clark, two peas in a pod. She didn’t know if it was his soft blue eyes or his Mother’s sweet blueberry pie that had caught her eye, but boy howdy, was she caught. 

A/N: Nothing! Enjoy!

The best thing about living in Kansas was that nothing ever happened.

There was a mile wide sprawl of corn that was breathtaking to few; it had started out as nothing much but rows upon rows of dirt that now bore sprawls of golden richness that could truly blind any tourist with its beauty.  Most of it was picked and sold—Kansas was full of rural farmers and farmers markets, but some just stayed for show.

And the Farmers Market typically consisted of stay-at-home mothers trying to sell their overpriced sugary sweet lemon bars to any sucker who would pay seven dollars for four measly pieces.

Most of the teens at the local high school got rides home from their parents, but Connie Mayfield knew that you couldn’t pay her Father, Walter, to pick his daughter up from school. If he did, then he’d no doubt miss a rerun of Baywatch, and that simply couldn’t happen.

A tune that rivaled the airiness of a flute flew from the 14 year olds mouth on her long walk home. Connie Mayfield whistled a nonchalant melody as her uneven pace took her closer to home. 

The young girl had a lot on her mind; there was a test on Friday that was covering another form of division that looked to confusing to follow, and Alice’s birthday party was on Saturday and getting a gift for the little girl who had everything was harder than it seemed. The years of gifts consisting of dolls and bright hairbrushes were long over. Maybe she’d like a new bracelet or a set of earrings.

An irregular rock bumped against the tip of her shoe and she grinned, lobbing it off into the cornfield, a little thud echoing through the golden maze. 

It was tempting—the idea of taking the not so short shortcut through the tall stalks, if just to feel a little more free for just a moment, but the sounds of distress just up ahead had her little sneakers speeding up. She turned to the bend and grew furious at the sight of three boys throwing around her friend.

“Hey!” she bellowed, running closer before screeching to a halt in front of the teen holding up her friend by the lip of his shirt, “Leave him alone!”

Isaiah Matthews grinned with his fist still clutching the younger boy's shirt, “Oooo, is this your girlfriend, Kent?”

Clark Kent sneered up at the taller boy, fists clenching in rage. 

“Leave her alone,” he grit out, watching Isaiah sneer with confidence.

“I didn’t take you for a pussy, Kent, but I guess I was wrong.” He dropped Clark with a grin and sauntered to the near growling girl. 

“Connie, right? My dad says you Mayfield’s are trailer trash, and I can see where he gets that from.”

His eyes gave her a visible up-and-down, “No wonder only a freak would like you.” 

The words had barely left his mouth before Clark launched himself onto the back of the bully, pummeling him to the ground with hateful eyes. The two other lackeys ran, but Connie went and pulled Clark back before he did something he’d regret. The two of them fell away from the older boy, watching him with guarded eyes.

Isaiah spat at ground near their feet, “Fucking freaks.”

Connie waited until he was out of sight, turning to Clark and frowning at his disheveled appearance. “You know, I’m not always gonna be here to save you, Clark.”

He wiped away the sheen of dirt and sweat covering his upper lip, refusing to meet her eyes. “I didn’t need your help. I could’ve handled it.”

“Oh yeah, you totally had it under control,” she mocked with pursed lips.

He frowned at her sarcasm and picked up his dirtied school bag, looking down the path home. It was a quick walk to the farm, and mom had probably already started dinner, which is why it made no sense when he turned and muttered, “Can I walk you home?”

Her eyes went wide at his question, upper teeth nibbling on her pink lip, shrugging, “Sure, if you want.”

They both nodded and started a slow walk to the Mayfield’s. Connie’s fingers twitched at her side while different conversation starters nearly passed through her lips every few seconds. The urge to ask why he never fought back, why he let people call him a freak raced through her mind, but only silence hung between them. It was almost annoying that he never stood up for himself.

There was something mysterious about Clark that intrigued her 14-year-old brain; no one had ever let him live down that time he’d locked himself in a closet (and torched the doorknob till it was bright red). 

He was just the guy who kept to himself most of the time.  

And still she kept on eye on him the entire time, watching his own twitching fingers pick at the loose lining of his jeans, lip biting in a matter similar to her own, brows furrowing in thought, though they always did that. He looked cute when he was deep in thought.

Cute? I think Clark is… cute?

A deep redness flooded her cheeks and her lips pursed into a thin line, trying not to visibly speed away from the other boy, but Clark noticed everything. There was something keen about the way his mind worked; almost predatorial. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, the cute furrow in his brow deep as she faced him while willing away the redness of her juvenile cheeks. 

She nodded but didn’t meet his blue eyes. They were like oceans—I’d swim in Clark’s eyes if he’d ask—and her stomach always fluttered when he looked at her.

She expected them to fall back into silence, now halfway to the Mayfield farm, but Clark piped up, “Are you excited for the field trip tomorrow?”

A flutter of excitement rang through her veins, but she held back and simply nodded. “It’ll be a nice change from sitting inside all day.” Clark nodded along with her running words, “I heard the museum has a section on insects and their habitats, and I hope they have a butterfly display. Or—or maybe a real entomologist will be there.”

Now bugs- those were cool. Anything from crickets to butterflies to beetles, each one more interesting than the last…except arachnids. You could keep those eight-legged freaks as far away as humanly possibly.

Clark slowed their pace but kept his distance, “Is that what you wanna be when you grow up?”

She grinned and tried to slow the internal monologue of bug talk.

“I think when I grow up, I’ll leave this place behind and follow my dreams.” She said.

“And I guess those dreams do include insects of all types. They really do get a bad reputation sometimes. I think they’re just as delicate and interesting as humans.”

“Really?” Clark wrinkled in his nose, “My dad sprays the fields for bugs in the summer.” She hit his shoulder as he let out a snort, “I think I’ve squashed a few flies for mom too.”

She shook her head and couldn’t see Clark staring at her golden locks as they shined in the sun. “You’re the worst, Kent.”

The both chuckled and came to a halt in front of the Mayfield farm. It was more run down than the other houses in the area and the roof could’ve been mistaken for caving in, and she knew it looked worse on the inside. The moldy green color of the roof had seen better days, and the porch could barely hold the old rocking chair that her dad liked to sit on in the mornings. Clark would never know how the inside looked even worse.

“Do you know what you wanna be when you grow up?” She asked with a soft smile, taking no offense as Clark tried, once again, not to meet her eyes. The swoop of his brown hair was nearing the tops of his eyes, but she knew he wasn’t inclined to cut it. He didn’t buzz his hair like the other boys.

“I…” He paused, foot kicking the uneven dirt under his shoes. He bit his lip lower lip and finally, after what seemed like an eternity, met her honey eyes.

“Yes?”

He took a deep breath and lightly shrugged, “Sometimes, I feel like I don’t know who I am. I think I wanna figure that out first, ya know?”

No, she didn’t know but asking Clark to explain how he felt could feel like pulling teeth. Golden honey stared into the aquamarine sea, two sets of young lips wet and wanting, and Connie picked at her pants, nails bending with surprising force.

The door to the Mayfield hold slammed with a grotesque force, and the two teens jumped away from one another as Walter Mayfield grunted his way to them, to Clark.

“’Thought I told you to stay away from my daughter, Kent!” Walter bellowed, nearing the fourteen-year-old clear-eyed boy who showed no sign of backing down with his head held high and chest jutted out. 

“I don’t want you lookin’ at her, touchin’ her—“

Connie finally yelled, “Dad!” and stood between him and Clark, protecting her friend from the unjustified anger of her dad. She felt Clark’s fingers grip the back of her shirt and tug her closer, just as Walter stood over them with beady eyes and steam shooting from his ears.

“Get in the house, Connie.” Her dad growled, never looking away from Clark.

But she shook her head and pushed against her dad’s chest, ignoring Clark’s fingers still gripping the back of her shirt. “We weren’t doing anything, go back inside, please.”

A startled yelp left her throat as her dad’s strong fist lurched her forward by the front of her shirt, throwing her to the ground and out of Clark’s grip. The air left her lungs and the dirt felt dry under her fingertips, watching as Clark seemed to vibrate in place, glaring deadly at Walter.

“If I ever see you ‘round here again, Kent.” He spat, “I’ll make you wish you were never born. Are we clear?”

The threat hung between the adult and young teen, and Clark tightly nodded and stalked off down the dirt path, not once looking back at Connie, never seeing the tears in her eyes.

Walter stared down at his daughter with a sneer, “Get inside. I won’t say it again.”

The dried dirt caked under her nails as she scrambled to stand and bolt inside, not taking note of the woman asleep on the couch that she’d never seen before, or the beer bottles covering the kitchen counters. The stairs creaked as she fled upstairs and shut her bedroom door, clicking the latch in place. A heaviness sat in her chest as her backpack thumped to the floor.

Beaded tears fell down her thick cheeks and light cries sounded through the room.

“—I want that boy away from my son!” the mother of Peter Ross screeched from the Principal's office. “Am I the only one who understands the situation? That boy lifted a bus from a lake. A bus! What kind of monster are we allowing to walk with our children?”

The meek father of Alice pepped up, “But—But he did save them, right?”

“It doesn’t matter, Martin. I don’t feel safe with him here, and neither should any of you.”

Martha Kent hung her head and left the Principal's office, ignoring the calls from the desperate parents. There was nothing else she needed to hear from them, especially insults about her son. The door shut with a click, and her heels clipped the floor with each step.

She did her best to smile at Clark, but he’d always seen right through that. He sat up straight and looked her in the eyes, his soft voice rivaling his posture, “How did it go?”

She knew Clark had heard every word already and that lying would only make him defensive. “About as well as you’d expect, honey.” She patted his shoulder and ushered him to stand, “C’mon, let’s go home.”

The car ride was silent aside from the tapping of Clark’s blunt nails on the fabric of his jeans, and the shaking of his leg. He was such a nervous boy—her Clark—and it pained her heart to see him to try to hide how this whole thing was tearing him up inside. They normally played the radio, Clark usually flipped stations and rarely settled on just one, but silence was all they heard.

Jonathon Kent watched his wife pull up, and frowned as Clark bolted from the passenger seat and fled into the backyard. He stepped outside just as Martha shut off the car and gingerly stepped out, walking into her husband’s arms with a deep sigh. Exhaustion ran deep in her veins, and Jonathon wished he could take it away.

“That bad, huh?” He muttered into her brown locks, feeling her nod into his chest.

“Talk to him.” She begged, trying to keep the tears at bay, “I think…I think it’s time he…” They both turned to face the barn with heavy hearts, knowing this would be for the best.

Jonathon nodded and released Martha, shooting a thin-lipped smile her way as he made his way to the backyard. His heart thumped as he eyed his son, whose legs were hanging off the back of his pickup, shoulders hunched in his blue hoodie. As he got closer, he could hear the sniffles from his son.

“Clark.” His son turned and wiped away the wetness on his cheeks. “I just want to know what happened. I’m not mad, I promise.”

Jonathon sat next to his son and watched his boys lip quiver. His words came out with a thin veil of pain, “I wasn’t thinking, Dad.” A hiccup escaped his throat. “She was so scared… I just couldn’t let her die."

The water was rising too fast—it was cold and soaked the kids instantly— and Clark watched as Connie grew frantic in her efforts to open the window enough to crawl out, or maybe she was trying her best to keep the water from flooding the already half submerged bus. Cries and screams rang through the drowning bus, and Clark swam, trying his best to make it to Connie

“Connie!” He yelled, reaching forward to snag her shirt and pull her away from the stream of flowing water.

“Oh god, Clark! We’re gonna die!”  Her screams were shrill and almost hurt his ears, but the smell of her fear mixed with the smell of tears and piss coming off the other students had him looking for a way out.  

But the water was nearing the top of the bus, and all he could hear was her cries.

“Son, I thought we talked about this.” He started, patting his own thigh, “We have to keep what you can do a secret.”

“They were all going to drown, how could I have done nothing? They didn’t deserve to die.”

“Clark, I just—“ Jonathon paused, watching the sunshine across the cornfield that spanned miles upon miles. It was an array of reds that shined upon the old graying barn. 

“I just want to protect you, son. And sometimes, when people see something they don’t understand, they get scared and lash out. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

And finally, Clark asked the question that Jonathon had known would always come.

“Why am I like this, dad? Why am I so different from everyone else?”

Memories of finding their son, raising him to be the young man who sat at his side—through all the times he’d been different than the other kids, and knowing all of the hardships that were yet to come. It was almost enough to make him cry.

Almost.

Jonathon stood up from the truck and stood in front of his son, placing both hands on his small shoulders. “I’m going to show you something, son, and it may make things make a bit more sense. But no matter what—“ He pressed his palm to his sons chest and smiled,

“You are my son.”

Part 2

#man of steel #clark kent henry cavill #clark kent #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #clark kent x oc #clark kent imagines #dc fanfic #batman v supeman: dawn of justice #zack snyder justice league #superman #superman fanfiction

[welllpthisishappening]

Feeling As Good As Love

Emma is excited about this weekend.

It's always good — this thing they do, with the house and the ocean and the friendship that seems to stand the test of time. But now, there's an added bonus. Because this year she and Killian aren't just coming to the house on the beach with that friendship moniker hanging over them. They're coming as a couple.

A real couple. That kisses. Regularly. And Emma's excited about that too.

She just didn't expect her friends not to believe her.

----

Rating: Teen, with kissing and some friendship-type swearing Word Count: 5.8 K AN: Listen, this is absolutely the fault of @shireness-says​​ who I realize I keep blaming for things, but she keeps sending me prompts and like...it’s her fault. So basically the prompt was “Okay but like what about a reverse fake dating trope? Like, two people who are together and go home to their families at Christmas but can’t convince anyone that they’re really a couple & everyone thinks it’s a joke.” It’s not Christmas, because it is May right now, but no one believes Emma and Killian want to kiss each other right on the mouth. At all times. I’m me, so naturally they set out to prove otherwise. 

And I think this puts Panic! At the Disco in the lead for lyrics as titles. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

----

“You know, you don’t actually have to do this.”

Emma doesn’t let go of the plate in her hand, but her eyebrows furrow slightly and Mary Margaret actually has the gall to blush. There are soap suds on her elbow. “Wash the dishes?” Emma quips. “Nuh uh, I’m totally doing this, then I won’t have to do it the rest of the weekend.”

It’s a thing, this annual thing they do — renting a house out East, after Memorial Day, but a few weeks before the tourists descend on the Hamptons and the beaches and the vineyards on the North Fork. And it’s fun, it’s always been fun, college friends and an almost ridiculous amount of alcohol, although none of it ever comes from those vineyards on the North Fork because they’re not actually made of money. 

It’s also the first time Emma has brought someone with her. 

Kind of. 

Killian always comes with them, has been part of the group for as long as she can remember, because he’s been friends with David for as long as she can remember, but this not-so-annual thing the two of them are doing, is pretty new and even more exciting and she might actually be in—

They’ll get there, she’s sure. Presumably after she finishes washing the dishes. 

And once Mary Margaret stops staring at her like that.

“Ok,” Emma sighs, shaking her hair off her shoulder for fear of her own issues with soap suds. “What’s your damage?” “Are you quoting things at me?” “Yes, because I don’t understand what’s happening and when I am confused I fall back on tried and true movie quotes. So, c’mon Winona Ryder, what’s your damage?” “Her name wasn’t actually Winona Ryder in the movie,” Mary Margaret points out. 

Emma rolls her eyes. With her whole head. “I know you’re not drunk yet,” she says, “because Scarlet and Phillip aren’t back from the liquor store yet—” “—Them having to go to the liquor store at all seems to suggest that we’ve already blasted through our liquor supply. Which, you know, that’s kind of troubling. For us, as people.” “Did you say blasted?” Emma asks, and whatever sound she makes is less a laugh and more like general misunderstanding. Maybe Mary Margaret has been body-snatched. “Like that’s a genuine word you used in this real-life conversation. That the two of us are having.” “Yeah, speaking of two of us…” “Were we?” Mary Margaret grabs a glass. With maybe a bit more force than absolutely necessary, all but yanking the towel off her shoulder, and Emma’s not moving so it’s almost impressive when it feels like her mind trips over itself a bit. While trying to figure out what the hell is going on. 

There are footsteps coming towards them. 

“Ah,” Ruby says, leaning against the kitchen door frame. “Are we doing this then?”

Emma’s jaw cracks when it drops open. 

Mary Margaret grits her teeth. 

She’s totally going to break that glass. 

And that will inevitably piss off Regina. She’s the one who booked this house. AirBnB, whatever. All Emma knows is that she made sure both her and Killian’s payments were Venmo’ed to Regina almost on time and that her nearly-serious boyfriend who she might genuinely be in—whatever with has a habit of over packing socks. 

Killian brought no less than twenty-four pairs of socks with him. For one weekend. Four days, three nights. With her. In one room. 

It’s the first time they’ve ever been away together. And now this is happening. Whatever this is.

“That’s not an answer,” Ruby continues, five steps  and one jump until she’s perched on the edge of what may actually be a marble counter. “He’s playing some stupid video game with David, anyway, so it’s not like we’re going to be interrupted.” “What video game?” Mary Margaret asks. Neither she nor Ruby flinch when Emma throws her hands in the air. 

Soap suds land on several different cabinet doors. 

There are an obscene number of cabinets in his house. 

“They’re really serious about Mario Party,” Emma says, like it’s obvious. It kind of is. She knows for a fact that David had texted Killian about bringing his DS with him that weekend, mostly because she was lying next to him when he got the text. “And seriously—what is going on with you guys? Was this conversation preordained?” Ruby clicks her teeth. “More like a discussion was had in passing, but—” She cuts herself off when Mary Margaret’s cheeks flames. “Look at you,” Ruby accuses, “you’re not helping at all. Emma is going to think we were gossiping.” “Weren’t we?” Mary Margaret counters. 

“I mean—well, gossip is such a dirty word and this...Em, you don’t have to fake on our behalf.”

Emma blinks. Once. Then does it again. She flutters her fingers, which only leaves a bit of moisture clinging to her pants, and that’s a little annoying. Not as annoying as the prospect of her two best friends gossiping about something she still doesn’t understand, but that’s neither here nor there. 

“Say words,” she demands. “In something vaguely resembling a sentence.”

Ruby squeezes one eye shut. “It’s just—ok, we know that there are couples up here and Regina and Locksley are in the middle of full-on wedding plans, which is—you know, it’s annoying and opulent. Is that a good word?” Emma lifts her eyebrows. 

Mary Margaret’s cheeks look like they’re half a second from combusting, they’re that red. 

And Ruby isn’t done. 

“Plus, y’know me and Dor are obviously pretty fucking cute and M’s and David stare longingly at each other every moment of every day.” “That’s not true,” Mary Margaret objects, but both Ruby and Emma make near-identical sounds of disagreement and she suddenly seems very preoccupied with her feet. 

“All we’re saying,” Ruby adds, “is that we get it if you felt like you had to show up with—you know, someone special. But...this is—” “—Silly,” Mary Margaret finishes. 

Emma can’t move her eyebrows any more. If she does her actual eyes are liable to fall out, and then Regina won’t get her deposit back and that will only end badly. 

Eyeballs on the kitchen floor presumably aren’t covered in incidentals. 

“What” Emma breathes, “are you talking about?”

Ruby scrunches her nose that time. “It’s just—you and Jones? Really? Like, c’mon, if you were going to pick someone to play boyfriend, there had to be someone better.” Emma is going to have to write Regina a check for damages done to this house. Whatever rushes down her spine is a mix of sudden and rather jarring anger and complete disbelief at what she’s just heard, the words bouncing around her brain like they’ll be able to find a more legitimate order that way. 

Head on a swivel, Emma gapes at the two other people in the kitchen, dimly aware of what sounds like an exceptionally competitive round of Mario Party. 

“You can’t be serious,” Emma says, voice low and, she hopes, as threatening as possible. 

Ruby shrugs. She’s running the gamut of bodily-movement reactions, it seems. “You guys have known each other forever and now you’re going to date? You hated each other when you first met. When’s the last time you and Jones spent time together alone?” “When I spend the night at his apartment. Like last night.”

“Nah, c’mon, who do you think we are, Em? Idiots?” “Apparently,” she shouts, and there goes any sense of threat. Now she just sounds a little unhinged, the word practically snapping out of her and Mary Margaret visibly recoils. Emma pinches the bridge of her nose. “So, wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight. The two of you,” she waves an aggressive hand between them, “legitimately believe that Killian and I are faking our relationship because I feel bad that Robin and Regina are disgustingly in love?”

Mary Margaret lets out a breath, even as her eyes flit towards Ruby. “Not just them,” she reasons. “Everyone’s always kind of paired off here and you’re…” “Oh my God.” “We’re not trying to be insulting.” “And yet,” Emma grumbles, tugging her hands down either one of her cheeks and no doubt leaving angry red streaks in her wake. That’s good. She’s angry. And confused. And angry. And she’d kind of like to make out with her boyfriend. 

This was supposed to be the weekend she got to make out with her boyfriend. And tell her friends that she and Killian had been dating for months. 

There’d been a plan. 

They'd talked about it. 

Nowhere in that plan did either one of them expect their friends to think they were lying. 

That’s a confusing sentence. Emma is very confused. 

Maybe she’d been onto something with the body-snatching idea before. 

“This is insane,” she mutters, mostly to herself and at some point she’s started pacing. “This is—you know Killian and I have been dating for like..a really long time. It’s not like we’ve tried to hide it. You guys are just unobservant.” Ruby doesn’t look convinced. “Name one date you have been on.” “Excuse me?” “One date. Name one date that you have been on with Killian.” “I don’t have to prove myself to you! Or my relationship.” “And yet,” Ruby echoes, expression turning particularly pleased. Emma resists the very real urge to knock her off the counter. 

Emma screws her mouth shut, mind racing to find something really good, but she hadn’t been entirely prepared for show-and-tell and the noises in the living room are actually starting to get very loud. 

Ruby makes a pitying noise in the back of her throat. 

“No, no, no,” Emma stammers, gaping at her and a still-flushed Mary Margaret. “I just—ok, ok, I had that police officer’s dinner. Two weekends ago. Fancy dress and ties were required and all that? Killian came with me.” “As a date?” Mary Margaret asks. “What else would he come as?” “Your friend,” she suggests. “Like he’s done for the last three years.” “Yeah, but there was no ripping off of each other’s clothes those other years! It was—passionate! Heated, even. No, God—Ruby stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

Ruby holds up a hand in what Emma can only assume is surrender, but then she notices just how much her shoulders are shaking and she’s definitely trying not to laugh so, like, game on or whatever. “No, no, definitely not funny,” Ruby agrees. The words wobble out of her. “But like—heated, honestly. You and Jones?” “We can be heated! We can be hot! For each other, specifically.” “Em, this is almost getting embarrassing.”

“I will kick you,” Emma warns. “Like, really hard.” Mary Margaret rests a hand on Emma’s shoulder before she can take another step forward, an expression that’s in the realm of motherly and comforting and it might be the worst thing in the world. At least on Long Island. Possibly the Tri-State area. 

“This is not embarrassing,” Mary Margaret promises. “That’s not a word we agreed on.” Emma growls. “So it was preordained?” “We just want to make sure you’re happy. And that you and Killian don’t feel like you need to—” Another shrug. One of them is going to dislocate a shoulder sooner or later. “Put on airs for us. It’s just us. No judging.” “Say that again,” Emma challenges.

Mary Margaret exhales. “We’re not judging. We only have your best interests at heart, both of you. And it’s not as if you two have ever really showed you were interested.” Of all the things that could possibly be the last straw in this conversation, Emma is almost pleasantly surprised to realize it’s that particular sentence. 

She rolls Mary Margaret’s hand off her. 

“We are constantly touching each other,” she hisses, a little concerned by the red that’s started to cloud the edge of her vision. “He is always putting his arm around me. I sat on his leg when we were drinking before!” “But that’s just normal,” Ruby argues, and Emma genuinely has no idea what she does at that. It hurts, at least, the sound that races out of her and the burst of heat in her chest, which can’t be healthy and presumably is what, finally, draws Killian to the kitchen. 

His eyes sweep the scene as soon as he steps on the linoleum floor, one side of his mouth ticking up when he meets Emma’s gaze. 

“You ok, love?” “No,” she sneers. “Can you tell these idiots that we’re into each other?” “Wait, what?” Emma waves both her hands again, snarling at her friends. Ruby barely blinks. “We were only telling Emma that we, uh—” “—They don’t think we’re dating,” Emma finishes. Killian freezes. From the top of his head to his obviously sock-covered feet. 

He stops and stares and stares some more and then—

He laughs. Loudly. Uproariously. Head thrown back and shoulders heaving, desperately trying to catch his breath while the laughter bounces off the kitchen walls and settles into Emma’s soul, which is admittedly a little melodramatic, but this has been the strangest fifteen minutes of her life and she still really wants to kiss her boyfriend. 

It’s nice to know she still has her priorities straight, at least. 

“What is happening right now?” Mary Margaret murmurs, as Killian wipes away the tears that have fallen on his cheeks. 

“Sucks not to know, doesn’t it?” Emma snaps. “Wait, wait,” Ruby says quickly, “is this laughter at our question or at the prospect of dating Emma, because if it's the second one, that kind of seems like a dick move, Jones.” Killian scoffs, and it only takes three more steps for him to be in Emma’s space with his arm around her shoulder and his lips ghosting over the top of her hair. She widens her eyes at Ruby. “It is not laughter at the prospect of dating my girlfriend, no,” Killian drawls. “Are you double checking on us, Lucas?” “You guys can’t be dating.” “Says who?” “Us,” Ruby cries, nearly falling off the counter when her limbs flail several different directions. “That’s—M’s you’ve got to back me up on this! It’s weird.” “Weird,” Killian echoes. “That I’m dating the person I like?” “When did you start liking Emma?” “I don’t think I have to tell you that.” Ruby lets out a triumphant sound, like she’s won something and Emma can’t imagine what the prize is in this situation, but it might be the genuinely ridiculous amount of alcohol Will and Phillip have seemingly just gotten back with. 

“Where is everyone?” Will yells, what looks like an actual crate propped up on his hip. He narrows his eyes when he takes in the kitchen and the half-finished dishes, gaze darting Ruby’s direction. 

She curses. Loudly. 

“Not exactly subtle, is he?” Killian mutters, mostly to Emma. She turns into his side, curling both arms around his middle, so he’ll kiss the top of her hair again, but maybe to prove a point and Mary Margaret may never stop looking at her feet. 

“You guys going to be weird about this?” Will asks. “Now that we know you’re faking?” “No one is faking anything,” Emma objects. “Sure you’re not. Did you come up with a relationship backstory on your way up her? That’s kind of rom-com, don’t you think, Em?” “We didn’t have to come up with anything! We are living the rom-com.” “You and Jones?” “Me and Killian.” “You know you guys only have one bed in your room,” Ruby chips in, apparently missing some form of self-preservation. “Is that going to be a problem?” Killian shakes his head. “We’re definitely going to use that one bed. Thoroughly.” “My brother is here,” Emma mumbles. He smirks at her. “But,” she adds, “we’re definitely going to use that bed. With the condoms that we brought.” Mary Margaret makes a strangled noise, Will chuckling while Ruby continues to curse and David demands to know why isn’t anyone giving me something to drink so I can fuck up Wario right now?  

“He brings up a very good point, Swan,” Killian grins, and Mary Margaret sounds like she’s choking now. Serves her right. 

Emma hums. “Is that even how the game works?” “Only one way to find out, right?” “Something like that, for sure.” He flashes another smile, eyes bright enough that for half a second Emma forgets everything that’s happened in that kitchen and she still has dishes to watch, pressing up on her toes as soon as Killian ducks his head. 

Their friends boo. 

She flips them all off. 

And it’s honestly not bad for the rest of the night — there are more discussions of how to properly play Mario Party and an almost alarming amount of alcohol, most of it horribly mixed by Aurora and Ruby, but no one mentions fake dating again, and Emma’s grateful for that. Until they all traipse upstairs to go to bed and there’s really only one bed and both Regina and Mary Margaret stare just a little too long before Emma closes the door behind her. 

It takes her about fourteen seconds to get mad again. “Go ahead,” Killian chuckles, dropping onto the edge of that one bed so he can tug off his socks. She seriously cannot cope with his socks. 

“I’m sorry, what?” “I know you’ve been waiting to curse them up one side and down the other, so let’s have your worst.” “It’s stupid that you know that.” 

He nods, lips pursed as he crooks a finger at her. Emma huffs, but moves into the space between his legs almost immediately, Killian’s hands on her hips and hers on his shoulders and she takes far too much joy in how quickly his eyelashes start to flutter. His head falls to her stomach. Top-tier, peak relationship status. 

“I know everything,” Killian mumbles, mostly into her shirt. “And I know that it’s ridiculous they think we aren’t in—” She doesn’t dare breathe when he cuts himself off, both of them dancing around something big and important and it’s almost an appropriate amount of time, but Emma is Emma and she doesn’t want to fuck this up and maybe that was why she’d been so nervous to admit that Killian Jones is ridiculously good looking. 

Like almost painfully good looking. 

She cards her fingers through his hair. 

“I have an idea,” he says. 

“Yeah?” “I think we should go all in. All those romantic comedy tropes Scarlet was talking about. Lean in to every single one of them.” “How many tropes could there possibly be?” Killian makes a noncommittal noise, glancing up which is really unfair because his eyelashes are almost offensively long. “We’ll make a list.” “Just like that?” “Just like that,” he repeats. “Why? You have other things to do tonight?” “Oh, you’re a menace.” He nips at her hip, Emma jumping and possibly giggling. Killian’s eyes are definitely getting bluer. Maybe it’s the lighting in that room. Their room. Together. 

She can’t believe he brought so many socks. 

“That will be thing number one, I think,” Killian said. “Blatant and obvious flirting.” “You don’t think we flirt enough?” “Not constantly because we’re not animals, but—you know, could probably do with a bit more. Tell you that I think you’re stunning? Regularly?” Emma gags. Killian keeps going. “Bewitching? That I’m fairly certain your hair has magical properties? Regarding its ability to reflect light?” “Oh, yeah, use that one,” she laughs, and it’s not very hard to get him to lay next to her on the bed. Which may actually be made of feathers, if its overall level of comfort is any indication. “What else, then?” “Endearments, naturally.” “Naturally.” “And, uh—” He clicks his tongue, eyebrows shifting in a way that undoubtedly defies the laws of gravity. “PDA.”

“Say PDA again,” Emma challenges. Killian blushes better than Mary Margaret, she thinks. Presumably because she wants to kiss Killian more than she wants to kiss Mary Margaret. 

There’s been a disappointing lack of kissing so far. 

“Public displays of affection,” Killian says, pausing between every word until Emma’s whole body shakes with the force of her laughter. “I’m going to constantly touch you.” “Could be worse.” “Oh yeah?” “I mean—” Emma drags her fingers up his side, shifting his shirt until she reaches skin and the plane of his stomach and— “Shit, stop that,” Killian grumbles. “It tickles.” Emma’s eyes widen. In perfect tandem with what feels like a rather large expansion of her heart, another burst of heat that isn’t quite as jarring as it was in the kitchen. And Killian shifts half an inch backwards. “Don’t,” he warns, but Emma swipes her tongue across her teeth. “Swan, c’mon, that’s—” Pouncing is a very ugly word, but Emma is way too busy discovering other areas of her boyfriend's body and Killian stops talking rather quickly. As soon as her tongue is in his mouth. 

And they do make a list. An actual physical list, with bullet points and a plan, that Killian keeps in his pocket because Emma doesn’t have pockets in her dresses and it’s easier for his hand to squeeze her knee if she wears dresses. 

That’s bullet point number six. 

There are seventeen. 

It becomes something of a game for them — Killian making sure to call Emma love at the end of what seems like every sentence, while she alternates between babe and sweetheart, but that second one kind of sets her teeth on edge and, one time, on Saturday afternoon while they’re picking badminton teams because that’s something they do on this weekend, he calls her—

“C’mon, darling,” Killian says, slinging an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “We’re going to absolutely destroy Nolan and Nolan.”

Every one of their friends groan. 

Emma very nearly passes out. 

The word ricochets off her soul, or something less ridiculous. Even after Killian and David finish debating the proper terminology for the shuttle-thing. She’s never been a darling before. Darling is for committed relationships and longevity and happily ever after and her racquet nearly flies out of her hand when she tries to return Mary Margaret’s serve. 

“You ok, Swan?” Killian asks, and good that’s good. A much-needed return to normal. 

Emma nods. She can’t seem to do much else. 

Somehow they win the match. David decrees it’s called a match. 

And Killian seems to take the public displays of affection fairly seriously — pulling Emma onto his legs when they sit around the fire on Saturday night, nosing at the back of her neck or that one spot just above her shoulder blade that makes her shiver. She almost constantly has her fingers in his hair, tracing idle patterns with her nails. There are absent-minded kisses and kisses that make her toes curl, standing on sand or in the hallway or...well, anywhere really.

It’s something almost close to wonderful, which isn’t really a change of pace for Emma and Killian as a couple, but this level of couple’dom is—

“You’re laughing,” he accuses, but the words get lost between their mouths and there's not much space between their mouths. 

Emma shakes her head. “I’m having fun.” “That was the point of this weekend. It always is.”

“Yeah, but I mean—” She grits her teeth, neves creeping up her spine and taking root in the back of her skull, and she hates that it happens. Emma is the worst kind of pessimist. Or, rather the best kind, depending on how you look at it. 

“I like you too,” Killian says.

“Presumptuous.” “Tell me that’s now how the sentence was going to end, then.” “Well, ok yeah, but—this is just...being full-on relationship, it’s been good, right?” “Are you double checking?” “A little,” Emma admits. “I—this was the plan, and I know it was the plan. That we were going to stop trying to hide and—”

“—I really don’t think we were ever good at hiding it.” “Tell that to the rest of our friends. Mary Margaret and Ruby staged an intervention. It’s...I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m glad you were willing to prove how stupid into me you are.”

Killian barks out a laugh, tongue finding the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, that’s totally what I am.” “I knew it.”

Those same friends, however, don’t seem to get the memo. 

Maybe they need new friends. 

“I don’t know,” Will says, halfway through a Sunday afternoon BBQ that could feed a small army. “I’m still calling shenanigans.” “Shenanigans,” Emma echoes. 

“You heard me the first time. It seems like you’re trying too hard.” “To be in a relationship?” “Yuh huh,” Will nods, flipping more than one burgers at the same time. “You see that? That was impressive as fuck.” “You’re a poet,” Killian mutters. He must have some kind of Emma-focused sixth sense too, because she feels an arm curl around her middle before she can get into any sort of pacing groove, grunting when he pulls her back against his chest. 

And kisses behind her ear. 

Regina quirks an eyebrow. “I don’t know, actually. There has been a pretty good amount of eye making, even before we got here.”

“I don’t make eyes,” Emma argues. “No, but he does.” Killian’s cheek brushes the side of Emma’s head when he nods. “That’s true, I’ve been making eyes for quite some time.”

“See,” Regina says, “This is—if this is fake, it’s a serious commitment to the cause.” “The cause of kissing my boyfriend?” Emma challenges.

“Yeah, that one. Ok, pop quiz. Killian, when was your first kiss with Emma?” He doesn’t tense. He doesn’t flinch. His hand might tighten a little, but Emma chooses to believe that’s actually a positive and she’s very glad for it. If only because that’s the main reason she stays upright. 

“Junior year of college,” Killian replies.

Will drops the tongs. It’s patently absurd. 

“Hold on, when?” David demands. He’s already half standing when Mary Margaret levels him with a look, flopping back into the plastic chair with enough force it nearly breaks. “Junior year of college. I thought you started dating a few months ago.” “Yeah, we did.” “And?”

“And,” Killian repeats. “We’d gone out, you and Mary Margaret left early. So I walked Emma back to her apartment, it was raining. We hit all of those rom-com tropes. She even had my jacket on.” Emma can’t catch her breath. Which is really ridiculous since she’s not moving, but she was always fairly positive she was the only one counting this as their first kiss and—

“You were drunk,” she cries. “You can’t possibly remember this!” Mary Margaret audibly gasps. That’s more ridiculous than Emma’s breathing issues. 

She twists against Killian’s chest, meeting his steady gaze with something that can only be described as ever-increasing and seemingly inevitable insanity. He smirks. 

The bastard. 

“Trust me,” he says, “I’ve spent way longer than I’d be willing to admit remembering just that. You took your shoes off as soon as we got into the lobby.” “Because they hurt my feet.” “Mmhm.” “What happened after that?” Aurora asks sharply, elbows on her knees and chin on her hands and no one has noticed that some of the hot dogs are starting to burn. 

“She’s a very good kisser,” Killian replies. Easy as that. Emma’s back to not breathing. “Told me it was nice that I walked her home, I said I probably deserved some kind of reward, she glared at me, I waited very patiently and she—” Emma remembers the rest. She doesn't need to hear it. She reenacts it, instead. Her hands fly to his shirt, fingers curling into fabric that’s different than it was when they were twenty and buzzed on alcohol that was only marginally worse than what they’ve spent all weekend drinking and Killian is absolutely smiling when she kisses him.

The bastard. 

Part two. 

And she resolutely refuses to acknowledge any sounds from the peanut gallery, pushing up on bare feet so it’s easier to sling an arm over his shoulder and push her fingers into his hair. He tilts his head, lets his tongue sweep along her lips and she might sigh, but he might also groan and he definitely closes his eyes. 

Emma’s always liked that about him. Killian closes his eyes when he kisses her — like he’s uninterested in anything else, like anything else means less than nothing when he can nose at Emma’s cheek or drop his mouth along the curve of her jaw. It also gives her half a second to stare at the overall length of his eyelashes, so it’s kind of a win-win for her. 

He’s just as out of breath as she is when they pull apart, color in his cheeks and Emma’s heart threatens to burst out of her ribcage. 

That’s probably not covered under incidentals either. 

She’s got to stop thinking so violently. Especially about her own body. 

Will whistles. 

“You guys suck,” Emma announces, and that’s not the first thing she planned on saying, but nothing has really gone according to plan that weekend and she has thoughts on that. 

Patent pending. 

“First of all,” she says, holding up one finger. Will is trying very hard not to laugh. Ruby isn’t trying. “Killian and I have been dating for months. Genuinely months. And, ok, yeah we kissed one time in college, but we didn’t start dating for awhile, and that—” 

Emma is still holding up her finger when she turns again. Killian’s smirk is going to stay permanently etched on his face. “That was kind of stupid, wasn’t it?” “Your words, not mine,” he chuckles. 

“I definitely thought you were good looking in college.” “I desperately wanted to date you in college.” “No shit.” “What is happening right now?” Phillip yells. Emma doesn’t have an answer for that. It’s less disappointing than it was on Friday night. 

“No shit,” Killian repeats. “You were—I don’t know, this force of nature. But you were also David’s sister and—” “—She’s still my sister,” David interrupts. Regina throws something at him. It might honestly be her sandal.

Emma doesn’t bother double checking. She’s rather busy swooning, after all.

Killian kisses the bridge of her nose before he continues. “You never take anyone’s garbage, love. Mine included and that wasn’t really why I was stupid into you, but it was a big part at the start, and then we kept hanging out and you’re—” She doesn’t mind when he shrugs. Probably because of the previously discussed swooning. Honestly, Emma is swooning so bad. “You’re the smartest person I know. And stronger than anyone else, on some existential level.” God, she hopes she doesn’t start to cry. 

That’d be kind of lame. 

And, somehow, there is more. 

“I worry about you, you know. Every time you leave my apartment and go save someone. It’s—I count minutes from when you text me that you’re on the train until I hear the lock click. It’s insane. Might be affecting my blood pressure, really.” “She has a key,” Ruby whispers. Not very well, but something about the thought Emma assumes. “She really has a key?” “I really have a key,” Emma answers. “I wasn’t kidding about spending multiple nights a week at his apartment.” “We could probably do something about that,” Killian adds. Will whistles again. 

Emma’s jaw drops. That’s kind of disappointing, really. She wishes she had some kind of sweeping something to respond with — romance on another level of romantic-type expectations, but she’s still her and she’s still a little pissed they haven’t been dating since their junior year in college. 

“Em, Em,” Ruby presses, “I’m pretty sure he’s asking you to move in with him.” Killian hums. “She’s annoying, but she’s right.” Ruby sticks her tongue out. “But, but,” Emma stammers, “that wasn’t on the list.” “You guys made a list?” Regina balks. “None of you believed us! Which, honestly friendship demerits. Negative friendship standing. We are a good couple, and we like hanging out and we’d been hanging out forever, and this just kind of...happened. It should have happened before, maybe, but our first date was getting ice cream in the Village because none of you will go to the Village with me and I—Killian always will.” “That’s kind of how boyfriend’ing works,” he chuckles. “Is that a word?” “Absolutely not,” Mary Margaret says. “Should we apologize now?” “Probably,” Emma sighs. “Because it’s—none of this has been fake, and we’ve been on relationship overdrive for the last forty-eight hours and I mean...is it so shocking that we could be in a relationship?”

Silence. 

None of them answer, and Killian is still staring at Emma because, she realizes rather belatedly, she hasn’t actually told him she wants to move into his apartment with a bed that’s even more comfortable than the one here or that she also counts down the minutes because she sleeps better with him than she has in years, so naturally she tilts her head up and—

“I love you,” Emma says. Killian’s eyes bug. “And I think I have for a really long time, but we were always friends and—” “—That’s not going to change, love.” “Well, yeah, that’s how good relationships work. Are you just going to gloss over the sentiment?” “Absolutely not,” Killian mumbles, gruffer than usual. And probably because half of the letters get lost in more kissing, a distinct arch to Emma’s back when he actually dips her like some goddamn romantic comedy. 

Mary Margaret might take a picture. 

Emma kind of hopes she does. It’d look good in a frame on the wall. Their wall. 

“I’d like to move into your apartment,” Emma says, and she definitely giggles that time. There’s no way around it, not when Killian’s lips drag along the side of her neck and pepper every inch of her face. 

Several people awwww out loud. 

As they should, really. 

“I love you too,” Killian says. 

“Ok, good.” “Good.”

There’s more kissing after that. As there should be, really. Part two. “So, uh,” Will says, and he’s picked up the tongs at some point, “you guys want celebratory hamburgers or…” “If you don’t put cheese on my burger, I’ll throw your fucking tongues in the ocean,” Emma guarantees. 

Killian crows. Or something. It’s nice, and that’s really all she cares about. “That’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ruby groans. “We’ve heard. Do we toast to the happy couple?” “Absolutely,” David says, reaching into the cooler to grab wine coolers. Like they’re juniors in college. They toast several times. 

And Emma doesn’t sleep much that night, but that’s something she’s willing to concede. Especially when Killian lets her pick the music on the drive back the next morning. 

Like any good relationship. 

#cs ff #captain swan #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan fic #i did this instead of working #and because it was sunny outside

[feeling-uncomfy]

This is for u @trademarked-but-not-really do with it what you will :D

There is a blood warning, just a heads up!

Also, Hawks platonically calling Tokoyami baby bird gives me serotonin —

"Goodbye, sir." Tokoyami waved from the front door of Hawks's agency. The sun was setting slowly, the sky was a warm orange colour. Hawks grinned and shot a feather to bump his interns shoulder, hands occupied. "Dont forget to text when you get back to the dorms, okay?" Tokoyami let's out a huff but nods and walks out of the building. Hawks sighs, another day done.

The other sidekicks left in an orderly fashion, each getting the paperwork finished relatively easily, so Hawks was left alone after a half hour. He sighed and looked down at the paperwork left unfinished.

It was his, so Hawks had no excuse to not have it done. Plus, the commission had been on his ass recently regarding his lack of monthly check-ins, which annoyed the winged hero. Why should he still have to answer to them? Hawks huffed and sat down, prepared to sit there and get it done.

Until there was a loud bang at the door.

Hawks sprang up. He had just closed up, why was someone there? He left his office and walked down the hall. He was about to tell whoever was there to piss off, but what he was met with made him freeze.

"Tokoyami?! What—?" Hawks walked up to the door, where Tokoyami was hunched heavily over it, clearly trembling. He didnt look up when Hawks approached, which worried him. "Kid? What's going on?"

Hawks opened the glass door, and Tokoyami fell through. Hawks let out a shout of alarm and picked his intern up, and set him on his feet. "Kid...?" Tokoyami still hadn't responded, his hands were clamped down on his beak, shielding it. Hawks couldn't help the confused expression rise on his face.

"What happened? Answer me, kiddo." He went to touch Tokoyami's beak, but the teen jerked out of his grip, and swayed dangerously on his feet. Hawks stared. It was like he couldn't stand straight.

"What happened? Answer me, kiddo." He went to touch Tokoyami's beak, but the teen jerked out of his grip, and swayed dangerously on his feet. Hawks stared. It was like he couldn't stand straight.

"Kid, I need to see your face, can you do that?" Hawks asked softly, moving closer. Tokoyami let out a pained noise in the back of his throat, but moved one hand. Hawks inhaled sharply. There was blood coating his hand, and it looked like the flow hadn't stopped.

Hawks was immediately put on edge. "Tokoyami, who did this." His voice had lost all hospitality, and Tokoyami scrunched up, clearly taken aback by the dramatic change. Hawks asked again, more urgently this time. Tokoyami couldn't get the words out.

"Did— didnt know what to—" Tokoyami shut his eyes tight again, his whole body tensed as another load of pain shot through his head. It was enough to make him stumble again. Hawks caught him easily, and moved him to the couch. Hawks didnt like how slurred and messed up his interns speech had become.

"Right, stay here, I'll go get you a first aid kit, okay? We'll fix this." Tokoyami didnt react. Hawks got worried. "Kid? Open your eyes, kid" Tokoyami's eyes opened slowly. They were glazed over and lidded. Hawks cussed. "Okay, okay. I'll be right back. Try stay awake for me." Tokoyami's eyes shut.

Shit. Did Hawks need to go to the hospital? Maybe? He should ask Eraserhead? No, the last time he asked about bird related things, Eraser said 'Hawks you're supposed to be the bird expert here.' and hung up on him. So no homeroom teacher. Maybe Dark Shadow would come out and give him answers.

Speak of the devil, Dark Shadow came round the corner. He didnt say anything, but turned and went back the way he came. Confused, Hawks followed. Tokoyami had moved from the couch to the ground. Hard, judging by the fact that the tremors had gotten worse.

"Fuck! Okay, I'm back, come on, up you come." Hakws gently moved Tokoyami to the couch again and opened the first aid kit. Tokoyami sank boneless into the plush couch, and his eyes shut again. Hawks slowly moved to peel his interns hands away from his face.

They didnt budge at first. "Come on kiddo, this'll make it hurt less, promise." Hawks coaxed gently. Tokoyami shuddered as both hands were placed on his lap. Hawks stared at the mess. It was hard to see where the blood was coming from, but there seemed to be a nasty gash across somewhere.

Hawks decided to ease his kid into it by starting at his hands. "Do you know what happened?" Hawks asked gently, pulling out a cleaning kit and wiping the red off Tokoyami's hands. His intern tried once again to get the words out, but it came out garbled and wrong. Dark Shadow came out, resting on Tokoyami's shoulder. "He cant talk properly." The shadow explained quietly, and Hawks nodded, shoving his anger down.

"Can you tell me what happened then? I really need answers here." Hawks was only partially frustrated at the lack of answers he was getting. Dark Shadow grew considerably in size. "Some asshole who doesn't like people with animal type quirks jumped us." Tokoyami's hands started shaking violently as Hawks shot up, wings flaring out.

"Are you fucking kidding me—?!" Hawks yelled. The first aid fell to the ground with a clang, and Dark Shadow flared up more. Hawks took a breath, calming himself. He picked the kit back up and silently cleaned the rest of Tokoyami's blood off of his hands. Tokoyami's hands still shook on Hawks's grip, he realised.

They came to the beak. "How much does it hurt? On a scale of one to ten." Hawks tried to gauge the reaction of the teen, reaching out. Tokoyami shifted back, shrugging. Dark Shadow answered before Tokoyami had a chance to. "He wants to tell you it's not that bad, but it hurts a lot. A solid nine point five." Hawks bit his tongue to stop himself from yelling again.

Tokoyami looked betrayed, but nodded in confirmation. Hawks exhaled slowly. "Okay, we'll I'm gonna give you something for the pain, and then I'll treat you. That sound good?" Tokoyami looked uncertainly over at the meds. More specifically, the needle. It took Hawks a second to realise why.

"...You dont like needles?"

A teen shook his head. That's all Hawks needs. He sits quietly, thinking. How was Hawks supposed to do this? Tokoyami starts opening his beak, but immediately makes a noise of pain and closes it. Dark Shadow doesnt translate.

Tokoyami tried again, slower and much more muffled than usual. "You... dont have to worry... I can—" He cuts himself off with a wince of pain, hand flying up to his beak again. Hawks takes his hand away, gripping tight. "Its okay, dont push yourself."

Hawks looks around for a distraction. If he can manage to get Tokoyami's mind off of the needle situation, Hawks might be able to inject him without a problem. He's used those drugs on his sidekicks and himself before, and they work fast, and are completely safe, a bonus. Plus, considering how small his intern is, Tokoyami should be put straight out, the stuff is strong.

Hawks's eyes land on the T.V. and he grins. He turns it on and flicks through the channels. Someone catches his attention. "Hey, isnt that Eraserhead?" He stops on a talk show. There, in all his glory, is the class 1A homeroom teacher. "He doesn't look very happy." Hawks laughs. Tokoyami is staring, seemingly occupied.

Hawks let's him watch for a little longer, setting up the needle. Dark Shadow noticed, but said nothing and continued to watch. Eventually, Hawks finally deemed Tokoyami distracted enough and quickly injected the needle into his interns arm. Tokoyami visible jolted, but the drugs worked fast and Tokoyami fell quiet, and slumped against the couch after a minute.

Hawks sighed. "Sorry kid..." Hawks turned him over, and got to work quietly. Tokoyami's beak was fragile, so Hawks had to work gently. He wiped a considerable amount of blood away and saw it. He wasnt surprised that it hurt. There was a large gash sliced over the right side of his kids beak. It was a messy cut, so obviously Tokoyami had either been moving or the person had shaky hands. Or both.

Either way, Hawks wasnt letting them away with this. He was gonna hunt the fucker down himself if that's what it took. He cleaned it up and was going to bandage it when Tokoyami's hand shot out and gripped Hawks's arm tight. Tokoyami's eyes were barely open and it looked like he was completely out of it.

Hawks chucked. "Alright bud, go back to sleep—" Tokoyami cut him off. "Hawkszzzz. There'sss dis guy. Dis guy and he keepssssss..." he trailed off, mumbling nonsense. Hawks stopped. A guy? He must really be out of it. Tokoyami continued. "He keepsss followin' me! Amd I dont know why... hess freaky dough. I domf like it."

Well, now Hawks was concerned. Before he could ask any questions, Tokoyami had gone slack again, his breathing evened out. Hawks didnt think much of it, and just bandaged him up. Hawks sat back with a sigh, looking at his work. Tokoyami was oddly calm, Dark Shadow no where in sight.

Hawks turned off the T.V and got up. He'd have to call Eraserhead once he was finished up with his interview, and judging by the yelling he heard, it wasnt going very well. Hawks looked down at the sleeping teen. He couldn't leave him on the couch, but he didnt want to risk injuring him further by moving him and fucking dropping him, which, knowing Hawks's luck, was a very real possibility.

Hawks decided it would be safer to just grab a blanket and wrap his intern in it. At least he'd be comfy, right? Hawks grabbed the fluffy one he'd seen the kid eye after a rough patrol. Hawks manoeuvred the kid and wrapped him into a mini burrito. Hawks smiled and decided fuck it, the kid was up, might as well move him. He carefully walked down the hall towards the elevator.

He asked himself where he would put the kid. The simple answer was to put him in Hawks's room, but his office was all the way down at the bottom floor. Would Tokoyami be able to handle the elevator if the drugs are still in his system when he woke up? Hawks sighed and brought the paperwork with him, playing the safe game.

Hawks sets his kid in his bed, and does the rest of his work quietly, feathers keeping a close watch on his kid as he sleeps without a problem. Hawks finishes his work and sits back, eyes closing. He drifts off, his feathers still active.

The next morning, his feathers woke him. Tokoyami is moving. Hawks groans and stands up, stretching and walking to his room. Tokoyami is sitting up, hands touching his beak with obvious confusion.

Hawks laughs and pushes his intern back down on the bed. "Go back to sleep, baby bird. It's still early." Tokoyami nods and curls up, still feeling exhausted. Hawks sits himself on the edge of the bed, watching his intern as his chest rises and falls. Hawks gets bored after a while, leaving as his phone buzzes.

Erasurehead? This should be fun. Hawks leaves and puts it on speaker. The angered shout that greets him tells Hawks everything.

"Hawks! You are aware of what a curfew is, correct?" Aziawa yells. He's in class as they speak. The rest of the class is confused. Bakugo rolls his eyes and Mina pokes at Asui and whispers something.

Aziawa continues without a pause. "Because I know damn well that Tokoyami wouldn't break curfew, so where is he? I swear if you tell me he's in hospital again." At this Hawks winced as the class perks up on the other end of the line. "Again?" Midoryia turns to Todoroki, who shrugs.

Hawks laughs. "Well, you'll be glad to know we didnt have to bring him this time, but—" Aziawa cuts him off. "Then why isn't he in class?!" Hawks sighs. "Some guy jumped him on his way to the train station, okay? They hit him hard, too."

The class grows nervous as Aziawa stays silent. Whatever Hawks had said must have either shocked him or caught him off guard. "Are you serious? Why—?" Hawks answers with a shrug. "Dark Shadow said something about animal-based quirks."

"Really? Just because of his appearance—" the class falls quiet again. Kirishima shakes Denki's shoulder. "They cant attack someone like that, right? Just because of his face?" Kirishima whispers, and Denki shrugs. Shouji's fists clench. He's delt with more than enough of those types of people in his life. Iida was chopping angrily, and Bakugo looked pissed.

Aziawa is still ranting. He's gotten so angry he couldn't hold his phone, in fear of breaking it. So it went on speaker as he went on a tangent. Hawks finds a good place to cut in. His voice rings loudly in the class.

"Hey, I'm just as angry at you. But the kid is trying to sleep. Maybe keep it down?" Hawks chuckles darkly. "Not like he'll be able to voice his complaints, though."

Aziawa immediately regrets it, but he asks why. "The motherfucker slashed his beak. It'll probably scar, it was deep." Hawks peeked into the room. Tokoyami was still asleep, turned away from the door. Hawks closed the door softly and tuned back into the conversation. Aziawa was yelling. There were other voices yelling, as well.

Aziawa's voice rang clear. "Sorry, Hawks. Gonna have to cut this short. Bring him back around when he wakes up, Recovery Girl will help him. Bakugo! Dont you dare—! Fuck!" The line went dead.

Hawks laughed. Looks like the class knew. He turned to go down the hallway, but stopped when something pulled at his jacket. He turned to see Tokoyami standing, albeit wobbly. The blanket Hawks had wrapped around him hung on his shoulders, and Tokoyami's body disappeared under it.

Hawks smiled softly. "Hey there, baby bird. What's going on?" Hawks moved to support him as the teen almost went down. Slowly, they moved to the kitchen. With Dark Shadow's help, Tokoyami sat on the counter, still wrapped in the blanket. Dark Shadow faced Hawks. "He's wondering how to eat. We're hungry."

Hawks blinked. "I hadn't thought about that...." He trailed off. "We'll ask Recovery Girl when we see her. You wanna go now or do you wanna wait?" Tokoyami shrugged. Hawks shook his head. "Well, let's re-bandage your beak first, then we'll go, sound good?"

Tokoyami nodded and moved to stand. It took a minute, but they got there. Hawks took off the bandages. The wound looked as ugly as ever. "Hey, what did the guy look like?" Tokoyami thought about it. He turned towards the T.V and his face dropped. He pointed at the screen.

Hawks looked. Someone had been murdered late last night. Ouch, it looked brutal. There was something familiar about the wounds though...

"That looks like..." Hawks stared at the wound he was cleaning. "Oh. Holy shit." Hawks snapped his head up, looking for confirmation. Tokoyami nodded, a little too hard, and hissed in pain. Hawks steadied him. "Wait. If the wound is so similar, then..." He turned the volume up.

"The only suspects we have at the moment are the league of villains, and that's because of the dust left behind. Also scorch marks left on the victim's back..."

Hawks's phone lit up as a message came through. He checked it. It was from an unknown number, which meant it was from Dabi.

"You're welcome." Was all it said.

Hawks typed out his reply. He asked why the fuck he would do something like that. Dabi responded with: 'Dude was on our hit list anyways. He should learn to think twice before slicing a league member so close to Shigaraki.'

This left Hawks confused. Dark Shadow said that the guy didnt like people with animal-based quirks, so it would have to be their driver, but the last part....

Oh well. He's dead now. That's all that matters.

He took Tokoyami to Recovery Girl, and she did all she could. Within a week it had scarred, much to Tokoyami's annoyance. He could talk properly, which was okay. Before he got used to it though, he had a lisp. Hawks thought it was adorable. A lisp plus head tilts?? Hawks's intern was the cutest, no doubt.

Hawks grinned as Tokoyami waved goodbye two weeks later. "Make sure you get home this time, okay?" Tokoyami sighed and flipped Hawks off, being the last person to leave.

Hawks laughed. Hopefully this time there would be no unexpected attacks on his intern. Hawks walked to his office and stared at the pile of paperwork left unfinished.

"Son of a bitch—"

This ended on a funny note, though I wanted to make a point on quirk discrimination. With everything that's happening in America right now, its important to say

Black lives matter. They have mattered all along, and they will always matter.

But I do hope you enjoyed! If you wanna see anything else, just ask! I'm always open to suggestions :D

#boku no hero academia #tokoyami #bnha hawks #aizawa shouta #this is the first political thing ive ever posted wow #but yes if u dont agree go away❤

[okaybutlikeimagine]

What if when Hopper first adopted Billy he was mentally preparing himself for a mess of clothes tossed about, dishes left everywhere, general teenage chaos? Instead, it's the complete opposite. Billy's had responsibility literally beaten into him, so he takes over all the chores thinking if he doesn't Hopper will toss him out. He cleans, cooks, drives El (and Max still) everywhere, etc while going to school and working part-time. How would Hopper react when he realizes why Billy does it all?

Oh I so agree with this, 100% feel like he was!! Like… I don’t think anyone expects Billy to be as super considerate and clean as he is. Bc he really is! He lived his whole life w/ a man who very obviously carried his military service through his life into his adulthood in a very dangerous away and so I believe Billy was scared as all hell to ever let himself slip. He keeps everything he can immaculate bc if anything isn’t Just Right, he’s the one getting punished every time.

When he was younger, Neil would put him through random, weekly checks of his room to make sure everything was clean and orderly. (when he got “old enough to be called a man”, Neil stopped with those, but still yelled at Billy for anything disorderly in his room.) When Max was really young and would accidentally break things, Billy would absolutely always take the fall. Even if Max admitted to it being her fault, Billy would be hit for not watching her close enough/for letting her reach for that glass herself/for giving her those permanent markers/etc.

So I think Billy feels responsible not only for his things but for everything. This is his house now too, after all; his space, and he’s gotta make sure it’s perfect.

And Billy moves in with very few things. Billy just doesn’t have a lot of stuff in general. I dunno if we’ve all seen the pictures, but some people on here have analyzed the little makeshift nightstand + mirror thing that Billy has. Like, he piled a bunch of things on top of each other to make his little vanity. I’ve talked before about how I don’t believe Billy was ever the type of kid to share things bc he just doesn’t HAVE a lot. He doesn’t own a lot of things and he KNOWS the cabin is small so he doesn’t bring a lot of the things he does have with him either. He gives his stereo to Max. He leaves all the furniture and his mirror. He only brings his clothes in a duffel, a couple of trinkets he holds dear to his heart, and his hair stuff.

And it’s definitely not what Hop was expecting at ALL. he was expecting absolute chaos. Like you said, clothes strewn around the place, etc, so before Billy moves in, Hop goes out and picks up a dresser he finds at a yard sale. It’s not much, but it’s something for Billy to keep his things in and on. And he’s fully prepared to have to give him a real hard lecture about keeping his shit where it belongs, which is inside the dresser or hamper and nowhere else, but he doesn’t even need to. Hop gestures to the dresser and Billy thanks him quietly before immediately folding up all of his things neatly and placing them where they belong. He doesn’t have enough clothes to even fill the dresser. Hop has to tear himself away from watching bc Billy can feel Hop’s presence and looks over his shoulder every now and then as Hop stares.

It’s just that… this isn’t what he was expecting. This isn’t the same kid he agreed to take in.

He also 100% takes over literally every single chore! Some he does out of feeling of necessity, like cooking. He didn’t cook all the time at home bc Neil felt that was a “woman’s job” but the thing is, Neil and Susan would leave Billy and Max at home all night or even all weekend sometimes and they’d leave so few leftovers that Billy had to learn how to cook to feed the both of them. (I also like to think about little Billy cooking dinner with his mom or grandma ♥ anyway)

So the boy has been cooking for years and when he sees that Hop feeds himself and El frozen dinners or freezer waffles or take out, he realizes he needs to be the one to cook. His biggest fear about it is Hop having the same mentality as his father, AKA “this is a woman’s job and you shouldn’t even know how to do it”.

But he doesn’t! Hop is honestly amazed at Billy’s knowledge of a kitchen, esp because he 100% does not share that same knowledge. And yeah, Billy tends to make very simple, very easy dinners, but they still taste a whole lot better and do a whole lot more than the frozen dinners that they’re eating every night. So Hop lets him cook and supports it very much. There’s no underhanded comment there. He tries to tell Billy how much he appreciates it, but he’s not sure if the boy hears him.

And Billy does more than just cook. Bc some chores he takes on bc they just seem necessary, and others he takes on bc he’s always had them. Bc he feels obligated. Bc he feels fear bubbling in his chest over it. Bc the more he did around his old house, the less anger would be directed at him. Doing chores kept him busy, kept Neil from getting angry, and kept everything calm. For the most part. It was like a saving grace.

He carries that feeling with him.

So he does the laundry. Everyone’s laundry. He’s always taking out the trash as soon as it gets full, and he’ll check it religiously, even if he doesn’t need to throw anything away. He picks up everyone’s dishes and washes and dries them. It takes him a few days to remember where they all go, but he gets it down quickly and Hop finds himself never washing dishes again. And it takes a few weeks to realize but suddenly, on his designated Chore Day (which is the second of every month, bc I’m sorry but Hop really can’t be fucked to do any kind of chore unless he’s designated a day, not even with El here now. He tried for about a month and it didn’t work.) Hop finds himself with nothing to do. Like absolutely nothing. The shelves are dusted, the floor is swept, the trash is empty, the cabinets are full bc the dishes were washed this morning and when Hop goes to question Billy with a:

“Seriously kid? Is there anything you didn’t do?”

Billy’s eyes flash with fear. It’s a bit longer than a flash, actually. He’s scared. Hop doesn’t like how often he sees that look when he addresses the boy.

Billy starts to pull at a curl on the nape of his head, elbow against his chest, closing himself off even if it’s a little bit. Hop has been working hard to pick up on all of the little nervous habits Billy has. This is one of them.

“I dunno… is there?” Billy asks like he’s serious. Like either of them are serious about Billy needing to do more.

But Billy is serious.

Bc Billy is fucking terrified. Every day he feels it in his chest: Today is the day Hop realizes what a mess he’s gotten himself into. Today is the day Hop recognizes the tornado that is Billy Hargrove and he’s gonna realize how fucking far from worth it he is to keep here.

So he worries. And he does absolutely everything he can think of to prove to Hop that he isn’t going to be a nuisance in the “living under the same roof now” department. That he isn’t going to be the “typical messy teenager”. It’s before he lashes out at the niceness because right now, nice isn’t what scares him most. Everything just feels… tenuous. Uncertain and downright frightening. Even a speck of dirt or food or whatever on the floor strikes something in Billy and Hop sees how tense the boy is about it but doesn’t comment.

Until now, bc now Hop is catching on. Now Hop’s getting a peek at what’s happening. And it’s kind of completely breaking his heart.

“No. I was just joking around.”

Billy blinks hard, looking away and moving his tongue around in his mouth in deep thought.

“Yeah… course.”

Hop eyes him carefully as Billy heads out of the house with the lame excuse of “seeing a friend.”

And Hop realizes pretty quickly that Billy isn’t in the house too often in those first few months. If he’s not at school, he’s at practice, if he’s not at practice, he’s with “friends”, if he’s not with “friends”, he’s driving the kids to the ends of the Earth or something bc he’s literally just never home.

It’s not until he’s on call somewhere that he sees Billy, across the street, lugging boxes around the local warehouse and sweating like a pig.

And he watches him work and struggle and sweat and groan. He watches this boy, very visibly tired, and it really starts clicking. Bc Billy is always stressed out, tired, dragging himself around. He’s always falling asleep on the couch or just sitting at the dinner table. (he also always freaks out when he gets woken up)

It’s just that… yeah of fucking course this kid has a part time job. Of fucking course this kid is working himself to the bone. Now that Hop thinks about it, he reminds him of Jonathan, who always looks like he got hit by a freight train right out of bed. It’s as he’s really thinking about that when a red flag pops up, because Jonathan has about 3 jobs and is stressed far too often for a young teen to be stressed and Hop never really understood the amount of concern Joyce had for him until now bc fuck watching this boy work like a dog is not fun.

So he brings it up when they’re both home. When they’re eating dinner and El is at Max’s and there’s a lull in the conversation bc Hop just can’t stop thinking about how tired Billy always is. How stressed he always seems. It worries him so much it gives him headaches.

“So… you’re working down at the warehouse?”

Billy nods absentmindedly. “Yup.”

“And going to school?”

Billy takes a big bite. “Yup. Pretty sure that’s why I still go every day.”

“Right. And you do everything around the house?”

“Do you have a point?” Billy asks over a mouthful of chicken.

“I- Look kid, you afraid of getting kicked out or something?” Hop asks, putting his fork down and staring at Billy with the question hanging between them.

Billy tenses. Sets his own fork down. Sets his eyebrows low too, showing off that hard disdain he’s always sporting.

“Why? What are you thinking about?” Billy asks, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed tight. Hop has seen the boy do this countless times before: he’s trying to look tough. But the thing is, it never works. It didn’t even work the first time he did this. He’s trying to look big but in reality he looks like a little kid who got told he can’t have dessert tonight. He glares but it’s always paired with a pout like a toddler.

Hop shakes his head. He feels like he can never win with the boy. He also feels like he says all of the wrong things in the wrong ways at the wrong times. He relies on Joyce for a lot of stuff. Probably too much stuff, but he’s been trying, alright?

“Cool it, I just… you do too much.”

“I what?” Billy asks like it’s some kind of insult. Hop can’t help the sigh he releases.

“You do too much. You don’t need to bleed yourself dry every day, alright? You’re doing too much.”

Billy’s mouth moves but no words come out. He looks semi-desperate to say anything, but he doesn’t. Can’t? Just furrows his brows and squints his eyes and shakes his head minutely and pouts. And Hop doesn’t know how to continue this, he just feels bad. Feels it heavy in his heart bc this boy has the deepest circles under his eyes and he feels kind of responsible for it. Really, seriously feels responsible bc he watches this boy work himself down every day and doesn’t say anything about it. It’s just that he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do about any of it. He let it happen bc there wasn’t a lot of alternative when he was always at a loss for words as to why a boy would even want to work so fucking hard all the time.

But he can’t let it slide anymore.

“You can keep your job, I’m not saying you have to quit or anything, I just… stop cleaning everything. And doing all the laundry. It’s…. Nice, sure, but it’s too much.”

“I just… what are you talking about?” Billy asks, irritation laced with confusion in the blue of his eyes.

“I’m saying I need you to stop doing all the chores around here.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re tired! I can see you’re tired.” Hop pauses for a second. “And it weirds me out! I mean, you’re a kid, don’t you ever just act like a kid?”

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’re still 17, you’re a kid.”

“Why are you mad at me for doing what I’m supposed to do?”

“I’m not mad!” Hop nearly yells, hands going to his hair to pull at it. It’s a lie. He is mad. He’s mad at himself for not being able to find the words this boy needs to convince him to just calm down with the “responsibility” shit. “I just don’t want you running around-”

“I’m being responsible-”

“It’s not your responsibility!” Hop’s eyes are hooded by thick eyebrows bc he’s far too confused by these words to have any other kind of expression. At first glance, this kid looks like a brat. A boy who complains about having to do more than he needs to. About having to move off the couch to take the trash out.

But that’s what knocks Hop into it. Into the realization that he’s completely wrong. Bc Billy’s hands have always been calloused, he works on his car himself, he knows how to do all of this stuff in a timely manner. He doesn’t walk around like he’s confused, he walks around like a machine as he dusts the shelves and wipes down the tables.

It’s never a sarcastic, smarmy little  show of “I’m being a good house guest, can’t you see?”

No. it’s an act of: “i’m doing what I’m supposed to, don’t look at me.”

He always moves fast; always quick about it. His shoulders are always hunched over. Like he’s trying to stay hidden and now Hop knows. It starts clicking more and more and he’s livid at so many things right now he can’t even pinpoint them all and-

“No. It’s not your responsibility to take up every chore in the house. We can do it together and I know I kind of drop the ball on a lot of it but I’m gonna get better about cleaning but I can’t do that when you do everything and-”

Hop’s not even looking at Billy anymore. He’s looking at his mostly empty plate, rubbing at his forehead and his hair and trying to see through his squinted eyes bc this isn’t the conversation he ever thought he’d have to have but here he is and he looks up at Billy who-

Who is so confused. Whose eyebrows are closed in and whose lips are parted trying to form a question that isn’t coming out and Hopper sighs.

“Your place in this house is safe. I mean it.” Hop says seriously. Looks Billy in the eyes and doesn’t leave even a sliver of doubt. Doesn’t let Billy think for a second this is a joke or that it’s an empty promise. That he isn’t anything but absolutely serious.

Billy’s face falls from his confusion. His eyes are shifting everywhere, on the table, the floor, the wall next to them.

“Billy.” Hop starts, leaning forward a bit on his elbows on the table. “I’m serious. If you’re afraid of getting… I dunno, kicked out or something, you won’t.”

Billy blinks.

“Just…” Hop continues on a sigh. “Please stop doing everything. It makes me nervous.”

Billy nods slowly, eyes still confused. But he smiles a bit at the small smile Hop offers and it’s fine. Everything feels fine. Far better than fine.

And so Billy lets them help. El sweeps the floors and dusts the shelves. Hop wipes off the counters and learns to cook some more, as well as load the dishwasher correctly. Billy teaches him the “secrets” of doing laundry. (“They’re not secrets, old man, you’re just a caveman who doesn’t know how to keep towels soft.”)

And it’s a little alien for both of them (and everything is a new and exciting experience for El) but it’s far better than fine.

#billy hargrove #chief jim hopper #el hopper #stranger things #ask #anonymous #bily hopper #billy gets adopted #hopper is a dad #and he's slowly realizing why joyce freaks out when onathan works too hard #bc holy shit wow #this is not good #this is worrying #sorry this took so long!! #and that it's kinda rambly!!! #i've had the majority of this written for a good while now #i just didn't feel good about it #but now i'm forcing myself to feel good about it!! #yayyyy!!!!! #anyway! #thanks for the ask honey #♥ #bratty billy #!!! #sort of

[whitecatindisguise]

The Sundrop Alchemist (9)

Wohoo! Next chapter is here!! And this time we have art, people! All art in this chapter belongs to amazing @cinn-a-mom​ (I love you, mom). Give her some praise :)

Anyway, off with the chapter.

Summary: Hugo and Varian meet an unexpected ally and finally reach Old Corona. If only they can find a way to handle Varian’s seventy-feet-long hair...

AO3 link can be found here.

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Chapter 9: To Old Corona

Varian was startled awake by frantical screaming, Ruddiger jumping up and puffing his fur. His eyes snapped open, darting around their campsite, looking for danger. He froze as he took notice of the scene before him. 

Hugo was currently sprawled on the grass, holding onto a log for his dear life. The white stallion they met back by the dam was holding onto his left boot, pulling hard. 

“What’s going on…?” Varian cocked his head in puzzlement. Hugo noticed him and shot him a pleading look. 

“Finally awake, Blondie. A little- AGH!” His hold on the log loosened with another pull from the horse and he was dragged several feet along the grass. 

Varian jumped up and ran to the two, trying his best to separate them. 

“Hey, let go!” He cried, grabbing Hugo’s shoulders and pulling. The horse neighed in anger, pulling harder. Suddenly, Hugo’s foot slipped from the shoe and the two teens fell to the grass, the horse making several hurried steps in the opposite direction due to the sudden loss of weight. 

The white stallion quickly noticed Hugo being free and neighed angrily, and launched at the teen. Varian reacted immediately, jumping in front of the bespectacled teen and raising his hands to stop the horse and protect himself. The stallion rose its forelegs, stopping abruptly. 

“Woooah! Calm down.” Varian called, observing the horse. 

It tried to sidestep, but the boy was quick to intercept it, Hugo staying behind his back. It neighed in anger and frowned, glaring at the two. 

“Hugo? Care to explain?” The blue-eyed boy asked, turning his head only a little to look back at the teen, but not looking away from the horse. 

“It’s a Royal Guard horse. Remember the satchel I had with me?” Hugo said and Varian tensed at the mention of the satchel, eyes darting for a single moment to his own. “Before going to your tower I might have stolen something from the capital. Just a few trinkets, no biggie, they have tons of them anyway.”

The horse neighed, as if it tried to argue and attempted to run at Hugo again, but Varian stopped him again.

“So you stole something and that’s why those guys in armour and the horse were back at the dam?” He asked. 

“Hey, I need them more than they do, anyway. Not everyone has enough money to buy food, you know?” Hugo argued and the stallion neighed angrily. “Oh, shut up, stupid horse!” 

“It’s not stupid if it managed to find us after the whole dam situation.” Varian pointed out, biting the inside of his cheek. 

Truth be told, Hugo DID stole something that didn’t belong to him, so the guards had every right to arrest him. (He wasn’t sure about the horse, though. Did it have the same kind of authority as the guards had?) On the other hand, if Hugo gets arrested, he won’t take Varian to see the alchemical lights, which was the whole purpose of this trip. But maybe they could come to an understanding…

“Um… okay then, horse…” Varian addressed the stallion, laughing nervously. “Sorry, I don’t know your name, so-”

The horse moved its neck, showing the fancy reigns he was wearing. Varian squinted his eyes and noticed a golden plate with a name engraved in it.

“Maximus.” He read out. “That’s your name, right? I’ll just call you Max, then.” 

The horse eyed the boy finally nodded. Varian smiled and let his hands drop to his sides. 

“So… Max…The thing is...” He started, tugging on his gloves nervously. “I understand Hugo did some bad things and he needs to take responsibility for that.”

“HEY! I always take responsibility-!” Hugo argued but Varian cut him off rather quickly.

“BUT, the point is, I need him to not get arrested. At least, for today.” The boy said, looking the horse, Max, straight in the eyes. “Hugo promised to take me to Old Corona to see the alchemical lights tonight. I’ve always seen them from far away and I’d REALLY like to see them from up close, but I don’t know the way.”

The horse neighed in response, not quite convinced in the reasoning. Varian sighed. Here comes the big gun, then. 

“And… it’s kinda my birthday today, so…” He shuffled his feet and looked at the stallion pleadingly. “If you could not arrest him until he takes me to see the alchemical lights and back home, I would really appreciate it.”

The horse seemed to be taken aback by the news. It seemed to mull over the information, looking conflicted. Finally it let out a horse equivalent of deep sigh and nodded its head. 

“Oh, thank you!” Varian smiled brightly and hugged Max’s neck. “Once I’m back safely, you two can chase each other to your hearts’ content.But we’ll need your help today to stay out of sight, just in case, alright?”

Max nodded and Varian turned back to Hugo. The teen didn’t look so happy about the arrangement, but it was still better than being arrested. By a horse, he might add. 

“Great, everything’s settled, yadda yadda.” He muttered, standing up and looking at his left foot. “Can I get my shoe back?”

“Oh, right.” Varian turned to the horse and smiled sweetly. “Could we get Hugo’s shoe back, please?” 

The horse grumbled, but let go of the shoe. Hugo picked it up, making a face at how wet it was, but, thankfully, didn’t comment on that. Varian picked up his satchel and the three started off towards Old Corona, Hugo taking a lead. 

They walked for a half an hour, before Varian spotted the shapes of buildings from between the trees. His mouth turned into a goofy grin and he rushed forward, ignoring Hugo’s calls to wait. With Ruddiger curled on his shoulders, the boy burst out of the forest and stared down at the village, visible from the hill. His eyes glistened as he took on the sight. 

“Goggles, wait up!” Hugo ran up to him breathing heavily, Max coming right after. “Why the hurry? The lanterns won’t appear till after the sundown.” He panted, resting his hands on his knees. 

“It’s my first time in here. I want to see everything.” Varian replied and started walking, only to be stopped by the grab on his wrist. He turned with a surprise to Hugo, looking at the hold questioningly. 

“You can’t go in there like that, Blondie.” The teen pointed out and Varian rose a brow in question. “Your hair aren’t really easy to pass by.” Hugo supplied, nodding towards the long trail of blond hair resting on the grass. 

“Oh, right. Let me just-” Varian started but the bespectacled teen cut him off rather quickly. 

“Put this on.” He said, throwing a rather shady-looking cloak at the blue-eyed boy. 

“Hugo, I don’t-” The long-haired blonde tried to argue but Hugo already took the cloak from his arms and threw it over the boy’s shoulders, putting up the hood. 

The teen stepped away and grabbed his chin in thought. Max neighed and pointed at the hair still clearly visible from under the cloth. 

“I know, I know. Just let me… Aha!” Hugo exclaimed enthusiastically and took out a large backpack from behind him, Varian raising a brow at where did exactly the teen took it from. 

Before he could protest, the backpack was put on his shoulders, Hugo scooping up his hair and stuffing them inside. 

“As for the final touch…” The teen unclasped the goggles from Varian’s head and put them on the top of the hood, securing the clip. He stepped away and nodded approvingly. “Perfect.”

Varian sent the teen the glare, Ruddiger looking up at his boy in a mixture of confusion and disapprovement, the look shared by Max.

“Um, no.” Varian deadpanned, as he took off the unnecessary accessories. “Maybe I’ve never been in a village before, but even I can tell I would look more suspicious wearing those than going as I am.”

“Well, do you have any better ideas?” Hugo asked, crossing his arms on his chest defensively. 

“As a matter of fact, I do.” The boy grinned and nudged at Ruddiger to help him. 

In a matter of minutes, the boy and the raccoon managed to braid Varian’s hair into a complicated-looking but easy to untangle braid, his hair now reaching to his ankles. Varian secured his goggles back at the top of his head and looked at his journey partners for approval. Hugo huffed and turned, cheeks turning red as he muttered something about how he could have said he can braid them sooner. Max observed the hairstyle with a critical eye and nodded his head. 

While one could still see Varian’s hair were much longer than usual for the boy his age, they looked relatively less controversial than when they were loose. Satisfied with the reaction, Varian bounced on his tip toes, before running up to Hugo and grabbing his hand. 

“Come on, I want to see as much of the village as we can before the lanterns.” He grinned and pulled the startled teen along, both of them running down the hill. 

Ruddiger exchanged a look with Max, before the raccoon climbed up the horse’s saddle and the two followed Varian and Hugo into the village.

------

EEEEP! The boys finally reached their destination! Wohoo! Onward to the adventure!

See you all next chapter ;)

#varian #hugo #ruddiger #maximus #hugo is bad at disguises #the sundrop alchemist #kitty mom writes

[aki-natsuko]

Hey Aki! How about "I know I can change" for Gratsu and maybe also for Sarumi if you feel up to it!

"I know I can change" – Gratsu

Natsu was laid up in the infirmary…again.

   Gray’s worry assuaged by Wendy and Porlyusica’s reassurances that the Dragon-slayer would be back on his feet in a day or so and that he was out of any danger, was rapidly morphing into something darker. Because this was happening far too often. It was always Natsu who was there in the thick of things, pulling off a miracle when things got really dire, regardless of what it cost the Dragon-slayer to turn the tide of the battle. To the point where the entire guild, Gray included, always knew things were about to change when Natsu got serious. That was half of the problem, because they had started to expect it, to trust at that moment, in Natsu, and the Dragon-slayer knew that and threw himself into each fight with more determination than the last without the slightest hint of hesitation.

   Worse, he knew exactly why Natsu was willing to go so far, even before they had come to believe in him to this extent, and despite his best efforts, he didn’t know how to fix it. But he had to do something, because one of these days Natsu determination and faith in the guild wasn’t going to be enough, and it wouldn’t be the infirmary that Gray was visiting but a grave, and he couldn’t allow that to happen.

   He slipped into the room, relieved to find that it was empty as he was reasonably sure this wasn’t a conversation that Natsu was going to enjoy with just the two of them, let alone if there had been an audience. The Dragon-slayer was awake though, propped up against the pillows, and no longer blending in with them as he had when he’d first been hauled back to the guild, and he grinned as he saw the Ice Mage. At least until Gray got closer, and Natsu saw his frown, his grin instantly dimming as his shoulders came up in a defensive hunch. It was almost enough to make Gray hesitate and delay the conversation. Almost. Because at the same time, Natsu had winced as the motion had pulled on his still-healing injuries. One hand moving to press against the bandages that ran across his chest and up and around his right shoulder.

“Leave that alone,” Gray chided, as he settled into the chair beside the Dragon-slayer’s bed, and Natsu immediately dropped it with the look of a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “How are you feeling?” He asked, not wanting to start the conversation on the wrong foot and wanting to make sure that Natsu was up to this.

“Fine…”

  Gray sighed at the somewhat sullen reply, before deciding that he might as well get on with it if Natsu wasn’t going to cooperate, although it didn’t stop him from reaching out to grasp Natsu’s hand. Needing the contact and hoping that it would keep him calm. “This has got to stop, Natsu,” he began mildly enough. “You can’t keep throwing yourself into the path of danger like this, not even for me or the guild.”

“But…”

“Natsu,” Gray interrupted him. “You nearly died. You keep nearly dying, and I can’t… I won’t lose you.” He’d meant to say ‘I don’t want to lose you’, but it had come out stronger than he’d intended, and Natsu flinched, staring at him wide-eyed, and Gray knew even before the Dragon-slayer spoke that he had misunderstood.

“…I’m sorry,” Natsu whispered, not looking at him. “I thought… I can change, I know I can change…I…”

“I don’t want you to change,” Gray cut across the desperate words, squeezing the hand he was holding and waiting until Natsu’s eyes flickered towards him. “I want you to realise that you’re worth more than your ability to fight. That the guild… that I, won’t walk away if you don’t win or if you can’t protect us.”

   It wasn’t something they had ever properly discussed, but Gray had known Natsu a long time, had watched him grow from the child desperately searching for any sign of Igneel, to a teen who’d built a life and a family all of his own…and was scared that it would disappear too one day. He might not show it most of the time, but Igneel’s disappearance without a word had left scars on Natsu’s heart, that were only visible when he thought that he might lose someone, that he might be left behind again. It was why he fought so hard, why he was willing to risk so much to keep them together, and why their faith in him and his ability to bring about a miracle was a double-edged blade because it meant a lot to the Dragon-slayer, but it also gave him more to lose.

“I know,” Natsu protested, but there was a lack of conviction in his words, and he still wouldn’t look at Gray who sighed, before reaching out and put a finger under the Dragon-slayer’s chin, tilting his head up and around until their eyes met.

“I don’t think you do,” he countered with a sad smile. “Not really, but we can work on that. For now, just promise me that you will be more careful.” It wasn’t enough, but it was all he could ask for right now, and he could see the relief in Natsu’s eyes as he nodded a quick agreement and he bit back a sigh,

One day Natsu, you’ll believe that we’re not going to disappear on you too...

  "I know I can change" – Sarumi

    Yata wasn’t sure when the feeling of betrayal, the rage – fuelled more by hurt than anything else – had started to recede after Fushimi had left HOMRA. It felt as though it should have taken a lifetime, after all, he had walked away from everything they’d believed in, everything they’d fought for. He’d walked away from him. Yet, it hadn’t lasted as long as he’d wanted. Despite his attempts to hold onto it, to keep the fires burning by forcing himself to remember Fushimi’s smirk as he’d dragged burning fingers across his HOMRA mark, and by reminding himself that it was Fushimi who had chosen to walk away and join SCEPTER 4.

But was it?

   He wasn’t one for self-reflection that often, he preferred to live in the now and not look back. But Saruhiko had always been the one to make him look at things differently, to try and think things through, and he supposed it was right that this wasn’t any different. Unfortunately, that meant that his feelings of anger and betrayal had started to shift and change into something new, but just as raw. And they didn’t disappear completely. There were still moments when he hated him or thought that he did, and wanted nothing more than to punch him in the face and wipe that smirk off his face. But there were more and more moments when he would find himself looking to the side, expecting Saruhiko to be there and having to ask himself why he wasn’t there anymore.

And, was it really Saru who had changed…?

   He wanted to believe that it was, but he wasn’t. He knew Saru, and even though he’d tried to tell himself he obviously didn’t after Saru’s ‘betrayal’ he was beginning to realise that wasn’t true. Hell, Fushimi had tried to tell him why he was doing this, in his own stubborn, roundabout way that made no sense to anyone but him, and if Yata was honest with himself, the reasons and the actions that had followed hadn’t been out of character. He just hadn’t been looking for them, and therein lay the problem.

He hadn’t been looking.

   When had he stopped seeing Saruhiko? Was it when they had first met Mikoto, and he had been entranced and terrified by the sight of that burning bottle? Was it when he had taken the Red King’s hand to join the clan? Or was it all the moments since, when HOMRA had become his everything, and Fushimi…

Saruhiko had been left behind.

   Not intentionally, Yata could never imagine a time when he would have it deliberately, even now when part of him wanted to hate the former-red, but at some point, he had stopped watching, stopped listening. He hadn’t pushed Saru away, but he hadn’t given him a reason to stay either, and that realisation was like a punch to the gut. I was the one that changed, and I didn’t even realise. He hadn’t realised that he’d shouted his epiphany aloud in the middle of the bar, or that he’d left behind a confused group as he’d all but bolted out of HOMRA because he needed to… he wasn’t sure if he could fix this, but he had to at least say something. He had changed once, without noticing, surely he could change again now that he knew what to look for, and it might not be enough, and he doubted that it would bring Saru back to HOMRA, but he had to try and now before he could second guess himself or back out.

Saru, I’m not looking away again…

#Gratsu #Sarumi #Fairy Tail #K Project #fanfic #Aki Writes #drabbles #Drabble Requests open

[soyforramen]

Old Times

Gladys hadn’t been back in town for a month before Alice showed up on her front porch at four in the morning, tears streaking down her cheeks (makeup looking just as good as when she’d applied it that morning; gotta love a woman who can afford Avon).  A wide-eyed teenager, the spiting image of a younger, more precocious Alice, tagged along behind her.  Without hesitation Gladys ground her cigarette out on the arm of the rocker (saved from Mr. O’Neil’s Tuesday trash pile) and pulled them both inside.

Without a word spoken, Gladys went to change the sheets in her bedroom.  Alice and the girl spoke softly in the kitchen, and try as she might, Gladys couldn’t make out a single word.  Whatever it was, it had been bad enough to bring Alice here and not one of her fancy, high-society friends’ houses (probably put out jello molds and finger sandwiches and food that tasted like creamed dirt).  Something big enough to ruin the entire Cooper household.

The pillowcase hung from the bottom of the pillow, wrapped around its middle in a suffocating grip, as she realized Hal hadn’t been with them.  In fact, she hadn’t seen Hal and Alice in the same place since she’d moved back to town (long-since overstayed, parents basement too crowded with two bickering teens and three shifts at the grocery store, g.e.d. just out of reach).  She’d exchanged enough nods with Hal in the frozen dinner aisle, both pretending the space between them wasn’t mired in ancient history and still raw rivalry.  Her path with Alice was limited to the high school drop-off lane, the one public gesture of maternal affection Jughead still allowed

Now, though.  She sighed.  It wasn’t uncommon for the women around here to lean on one another for comfort and safety.  Sad, really, how often that came on the heels of the men not living up to even the lowest standards.  

After a second thought, she fluffed up pillows and headed back towards the kitchen.  Coming towards her in the claustrophobic hallway came Alice and her child (Betty, she realized with a flash of deja vu, a reminder of when she and Jughead were the ones on the other end of this), and Gladys flattened herself against the wall.

“Thanks, Ms. Jones,” Betty murmured, her eyes downcast.

Gladys hadn’t the heart to tell her she hadn’t been a Jones for almost fifteen years.  

“Not a problem at all, darlin’.  What do you think about strawberry pancakes in the morning?”

Betty gave her a watery smile and Alice shooed her into the bedroom.  The door closed behind them, and Gladys let out a heavy breath.  There was always something going wrong around here.  You expected it, but it still hurt to see it happen.

Filled with a nervous energy (live wired and on fire, as her daddy used to say before the tar and the coal got to him; put a cork in that and you could power the whole nothern half of the states), Gladys flitted around the house, straightening and tucking and dusting, nothing seeming to be enough anymore.  She had another two hours before she had to be at her first shift at the factory down the road.  Then again, maybe she’d return that long ago favor and call in sick.  After all, she was entitled to a few days here and there (nothing like the dump in toledo where they squeezed every drop of your soul, pennies on the dollar, and still demanded more).

Just as she was running a cloth over the television set (only three channels, black and white; older than either of her children who preferred leeching ole’ henry’s wifi instead of -), the bedroom door shut quietly.  Gladys straightened and waited for Alice to appear.  When their eyes met, Alice’s stoic, no-nonsense rock solid mask crumbled into a mess of tears and grief.

“He’s -“

Poor gal couldn’t even speak properly anymore.  Whatever Hal’d done, it was enough to knock the sense out of Alice, and that was a scary enough prospect on its own.  She hadn’t been that thrown for a loop since they’d raided (stole) Mantle’s stash of E (curled up like kittens, high in the dusty sunlight on the trailer floor, alice laying out her future with hal and not her…).

Gladys quieted her and lead Alice to the love seat (third-hand from earl and katie, bless their hearts even though it did smell like that damn cat).  Alice tried to apologize for the interruption, but Gladys refused to let her.  Jughead she didn’t have to worry about - boy slept like a brick in a tornado - and J.B. was at a sleepover with some of her friends (best friends on the first day of school, always did get her daddy’s better traits, while jug soured down into his old records and writing, lost in his own world, too much like his mama to make anything of it).

Once Alice was settled, Gladys poured out a shot of rum and set it on the coffee table along with a box of tissues.  A few steps back, and Gladys was in the kitchen to give Alice a modicum of peace in the tiny trailer.  She poured a glass of water and set it next to the empty shot glass.

“Another one?  I have whiskey, too.”

Alice shook her head, a crumbled tissue in her hand halfway shredded to hell and back already.  On the table lay three more (three bucks a pop here, can you believe) and Gladys couldn’t help but want that to be the remnants of Hal’s body.  

“Hal, he -“ Alice’s words were cut off with a gut wrenching sob, and Gladys rushed to her.

Like she did when the kids woke up from their nightmares, she murmured platitudes and soft words, her arms wrapped around Alice in a cocoon of safety.  After a good long cry (glad she still wore waterproof, cheap, drugstore mascara would have ruined the fabric, though the concealer would do hell on the blouse), Alice steadied herself.

Despite her hair falling out of its unnatural wave, despite the botchy cheeks, red eyes, and snotty nose, Gladys was still struck by how well Alice carried herself.  Likely an armor built up having to suppress anger and frustration in this ticky-tacky town (hoa’s, pta’s, cya’s).  A rose of anger bloomed on her cheeks sent Gladys rocking back on her heels, a thrum of excitement rushing through her.

“I suppose you’ve heard about our town’s little problem,” Alice said, still speaking in polite euphemisms and innuendos.  She reached for the glass of water and primly cleared her throat (cats and spots, zebras and strips, snakes and scales; once, always).

“Depends on which one you mean,” Gladys said.  

She was being sarcastic, she knew, but it was the truth.  Riverdale hadn’t changed much from when they were growing up, damn whatever bullshit Hiram and his developers were trying to sell.  It still had the same pristine front, picture perfect suburban life style, full of well respected men trying to save the village green from its own preservation society, but now the fetid foundation it had been built upon was bubbling out from the seams.  The drugs, gangs, and murders were more visible now, no longer brushed under the railroad tracks into the Southside of town.

Hell, the only new thing about it seemed to be the mafia trying to gain a foothold.  And Gladys had her own plans on how to deal with that.

Mostly, though, she’d missed being able to push Alice’s buttons (eyes narrowed, tongue beneath her teeth, a flash of heat in a pan), to get a rise from her so she was the center of her focus.  If nothing else, it drew Alice’s attention away from her grief at hand.  

“But, if you’re talking about that black hood idiot,” Gladys drawled, wincing at the pins and needles attacking her as she stood, “then I’ve heard a bit.”

“Yes, well.”  Alice cleared her throat and looked away.  “It turns out you were right.  About Hal.”

“Oh?”

Gladys let it hang in the air.  It wasn’t often that Alice Cooper, nee Smith, admitted to being wrong about anything, especially when it came to her life choices.  And yet the juxtaposition of the two - the Black Hood and Hal - had caught her attention like a hook in a trout’s belly.

“About -?”

“About Hal,” Alice snapped.

She stood to pace the thin carpet of the trailer, her hands wrapped tight around her arms, the pastel green cardigan wrinkling under her fingers.  

“He’s been going around these past few months like a god damned fool, playing at being an avenging angel, murdering people who he thought deserved it.  I can’t believe I bought his lie about going bowling. The man can’t even lift a lawnmower, let alone a bowling ball.”

Gladys sat down on the love seat, one leg thrown onto the coffee table and watched Alice stew in front of her.  It was a mirror image of fifteen years ago, almost to the day.  She gently touched the corner of her eye, still bearing a white scar, and cursed the day she’d ever met that man.

“And then the bastard has the audacity to say that our children need to be purified.  That I need to be purified.  It was bad enough that he sent that letter to Polly, what he did to Betty -“

Alice stopped and tugged at her hair (bottle blonde to cover up the slow, steady march of time; at least a week’s worth of gladys’ pay for vanity every month).  Gladys stood and guided Alice back to the love seat.

“How about you start from the beginning?”

Another stream of tears, this time borne of frustration and anger, slipped down Alice’s cheeks as she dove head first into the long tale.  Hal always had thought himself above the rest of the town (secret son, hidden away from the world) even though his own sins bore bitter fruit of their own (alice angry and self-destructive in senior year; drunk on the floor; od’ed in the bathroom; blood running down wrists).   Somehow he’d managed to fuel that into something more productive - a picture perfect nuclear family and modest but plentiful business - until he finally didn’t.  

The first murder attempt, then the second, third, and fourth followed, no longer attempts.  Quit murders in the surrounding counties that went with only a few murmurs of disapproval.  Even his own family hadn’t been immune; daughters, tortured and deceived by the man meant to protect them from such things (kids of all things; for crissakes was nothing sacred?.

And Alice…

When she was done with her macabre tale, ending in Hal’s entrapment of his family and their violent escape, Gladys let out a low whistle.

“Well.  Shit.”

Alice let out a wet, wry laugh.  She curled her legs up under her and hugged a throw pillow tight (bought on a whim at a yard sale - two’fer deal she’d haggled; matched the lace curtains jb couldn’t help but make fun of).  Gladys stood and walked towards where her father’s urn sat on the mantle, a place of honor in a family who had little to do with ghosts of the past.

“What do you want to do about it?” Gladys asked.  

Standing on her tiptoes, she reached in an pulled out a rusted Altoids tin and a lighter.  When Alice caught sight of it she let out a real laugh this time, one that drew memories of simpler, happier times when it had just been the two of them against the world.  Wonder Woman and Sarah Conner, united together.  Until they grew up and out of middle school dreams and into the real world where bills piled up and mouths had to be fed.  

“You know we’re not in high school, right?”

Gladys grinned and fell onto the love seat next to her.  She popped open the tin and held it out to Alice.

“Do you want to do the honors?  You always were better at it than I ever was.”

Alice chewed her lip, the implications and scandal of what Gladys was proposing flashed across her eyes.  It was easy enough to guess the arguments against it, the same old ones she’d heard before (what if your mom/daughter/sister finds out you keep that in there? she’ll be more pissed that she didn’t find it sooner), but her hand was steady when she took the tin. Gladys watched her fingers work, long thin fingers still trapped by a band of gold.  The ring of a promise that fell flat and brought with it a hell of a right-hook in the end.

As she watched, Gladys let her mind wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t allowed themselves to be torn apart in high school.  If she’d only beaten the truth out of Hal in junior year when Alice vanished.  If only, if only, if only.

“What I want,” Alice said with a finality, the lid snapping shut a punctuation to her decision, “is to rip his guts out and feed them to him while that harpy mother of his watches.”

Gladys flicked the lighter, the flame dancing around the end of the joint.  Her eyes didn’t move from Alice’s lips as she took a hit.  Lines ebbed and faded, reminders of their time spent apart, waves of years and youth wasted.  In the poor ventilation of the trailer, the smoke wrapped them in a thin cocoon of safety, a gauzy curtain to shield them against the reality of their choices.

“Might have to lay a tarp down, but I know a few guys.”

The phrase sent Alice into a fit of giggles (ask freddie and fp, they know some guys) and Gladys shushed her with a crooked smile, reminding her that Betty lay sleeping not forty feet away.  Alice took another took and blew the smoke into Gladys’ face, a ribbon that caressed and teased her skin

“Or we could take care of it ourselves.”

“Just like old times?”

“Just like old times.”

(A few months later found Jughead and Betty at Pop’s working on a school project under Gladys’ critical eye.  Jughead, used to his mother’s hovering nature, enjoyed the free fries she dropped off between customers; Betty, it seemed, was far more perturbed by the woman’s sudden closeness with her mother.  It wasn’t until they were writing about Lady McBeth  (‘out damn spot’ seemed to Jughead less of a guilt ridden complex after this Black Hood business and more of an attempt at an evidentiary coverup) that he spoke on a subject that had been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Doesn’t it seem odd?”

Betty hummed and continued to write.  “What seems odd?”

“My father disappears three months before my mother leaves town, never to be seen again.  We come back, and three months later your dad disappears.  And each time, our mothers renewed their friendship just weeks before.”

Any goodwill Betty might have held towards Jughead froze quickly at the implications in his words.  Her fingers gripped the mechanical pencil hard enough her knuckles went white and the plastic cracked.  

“My father was a serial killer,” she snapped.  Blooms of anger rose on her checks and Jughead shifted under her glare.  “It’s not surprising that he’d run away after trying to kill his wife and his daughter in their own home.”

Cowed, Jughead picked at the lukewarm fries.  Her words didn’t change his mind, didn’t move his suspicions a single degree, but it did quiet his need to pry further into her opinion.

The matter was dropped as Macbeth and his realm descended further into madness.)

#parentdale #alice cooper/gladys jones #this is what commenting gets you folks; part deux of a one part fic

[slutinacan]

Black Sheep

envy adams x fem!reader

Warnings: kinda suggestive, not too heavy. (Sorry) ((kinda out of character for my kind of blog (((uwu horny sideblog))) but i just felt like writing this idk)). Swearing. A droplet of angst in the beginning but iT DOESN'T LAST TOO LONG I PROMISE.

Prompt: You've seemed to make it away from the heaviness of the group's troubles with Ramona's evil exes, and in an angered fit after getting in a brief argument with Scott due to his sheer recklessness, allowing not only himself to be put in danger, but everyone around him, you clasp Wallace's hand and race downtown to a local venue in high annoyance, only wanting to get away and enjoy the night away from all of this havoc in a flood of rock bands. Of course, everything starts out fine, as it always does, but as soon as an unexpected guest performer arrives onstage, you begin to receive more attention than expected.

Note: I'm aware that there is a shit ton of magical realism in this entire franchise, especially in the movie seeing as it was derived from a very vibrant comic series, so I'll try to incorporate as much of that in it as I can, promise. I'm not very good with magical realism/fantasy yet but I'll give it my all! Enjoy!

---

"You know what, Pilgrim? Fuck you." You let out an angry breath after his previous remark, tears flooding into your eyes.

You stood with nothing but sad anger running through your system, watching his face slowly cloud down into regret at his words, the room physically deflated at the broken atmosphere.

"I get that you want to be happy, and I am in full support of that, I just want you to be happy, Scott. But, when it comes at the cost of the people who want nothing but the best for you? Your friends? The people who have had it up to here with your shit but have always loved you too much to ever mind it because that's what pals are fucking for? You're too reckless. You always have been. Keep your head screwed on right for once and fucking look at what is in front of you, Pilgrim. Wake up." You ranted with a huff, fist clenched tight.

Scott made a move to step forward and take your hand, his own eyes teary, but you pulled back. Making a move for the door you grabbed your keys, and coat, without even taking the time to listen to his pleas. Your insides were boiling hot with rage but the exterior of your body stung cold with bitten ice that practically chilled the room below average temperature.

"Wallace. You want a ride or not, nerd." You asked, stepping outside and already finding yourself halfway to your car already as the wind kicking beneath your feet only accentuated your angry swiftness through the bitten evening.

With that, Wallace sprung up from his seat, grabbing his jacket, house key, and scarf. Ramona let out a quiet scoff of disbelief towards the brown haired boy, seeing as he was actually following you. Though, he gave nothing but a shrug to the group with a small, apologetic, look in return; then, he was out the door after sending one knowing look to Scott that said it all: When we get back, you're fixing this. All you, guy.

---

"Tickets please." The front attendee asked, his voice bellowing in your ears, breaking through the burning ice and sadness clouding your senses, chipping away at the practically frozen armor you guarded yourself with. Falling back into reality, you maintained your focus.

"Oh yeah, sorry, here you go." You refocused on his outstretched hand, placing both your ticket, and Wallace's into the presented palm. He tore off the stubs, grabbing two identification wristbands, and handed you both which you took with a small thank you.

Wallace took notice of your form, chilled and quiet. Soft and small and entirely too timid to be considered normal. You looked present but as if your brain was drifting far, far, away from the current scene. He nudged you with his elbow, sending a reassuring smile as you were cleared to enter the venue, being the lucky few to get there first at that. That alone chipped away at the frosted armor encasing your haunted form once again.

"Look, hun," he leaned against you reassuringly as you two snagged a spot near the front, his hands deep in his own pockets seeing how unusually cold the night was. His muscles tightened up to constrict any warmth in his body and keep it there, now feeling the bitter, unwavering, depressive, frost radiating from you.

"I think you were totally right back there. He's been really reckless as of lately, more so than usual, and yes, it has put a damper on things and, yeah, it has put his loved ones in danger. Also, yeah, its not really an ideal situation at all, completely unruly in fact. It is completely messy and depressing and unfair and it has put everyone he knows, we know, in harms way-" "Wallace is this supposed to be helping me? Because, I love and appreciate you and all, but you are absolutely shit at pep-talks-"

The two of you paused seeing the room already crowded with punk teens, adults, and misfits of the kind all murmuring and diving into their own conversations as the lights dimmed, one spotlight on the host of the venue who stood in the middle of the stage. He was all that could be seen, the light focused on his warm yellow jacket and his matching scarf. He was usually very peppy but seemed just as cold as everyone else on this frosted evening, legs visibly trembling as the ice chilled his scrawny form.

"Welcome everyone! Thanks for coming out tonight, we're real excited to show you what treats we have in store tonight because boy do we have a surprise." He grinned through his chattering teeth, tossing a thumbs up.

You watched intently, not as phased as all the screaming teens beside you had been. You toned him out. In fact, you toned everyone out. The host, Wallace, the screaming crowd of one hundred around you, all became muted. Your eyes honed in on the silhouettes that could not be identified in the shadows behind the current announcer. It seemed as though your concern for everything began to wear thinner and thinner as the cold night caressed your face to numbness, the fortress of ice around your body stilling the need to express, slowing you down and leaving you haunted.

You felt as though you could only bring your eyes to move, watching as the once obnoxious host started backing up off stage into the sidelines. You followed his mouth, watching every shaky trace of a pronunciation through chattering teeth mouthed something that visibly brightened the room and completely tore through your brain as the crowd began an uproar of excitement.

"Please welcome, The Clash at Demonhead!" His lips touched together slowly to form the words and you watched every second of it until he ran offstage, your eyes darting to the main portion of the venue to see the lights flicker on into a warm orange and red hue. Wallace, the crowd beside you, was long forgotten and you stood still among the chaos, relapsing the events that occured throughout the day. You shut your eyes to block it out, and reopened them to meet burning hazel. Your bitter, iced, armor suffered a severe blow at that, those hot eyes tearing right into your chest.

(Oh yeah)

(Oh yeah)

(Oh yeah)

Hello again

Friend of a friend

I knew you when

Your eyes were focused on one thing, the blonde who stood tall and confident in the middle of the stage, bright, pouty, red lips clouding your vision as she sung the opening words strictly, her own eyes on you.

Time moved faster and faster yet it felt like she was all you could see. A flame huddled in the cold dark, chipping further and further at you. You stood still, enjoying the music at that, but only standing to watch her while the excited chaos ensued around you as the music picked up.

She only broke your gaze to dance around the stage, completely strong in her movements and unwavering under the still present ice within the evening. She remained untouched.

During a small instrumental breakdown she strutted closer to the edge of the stage, right where you stood. You watched her, all of her. Her mouth and the way it moved as she sung intimately into the microphone, the way her warmth enveloped you and brushed across your paled face, completely melting any icy exterior you had left, any fight you had left.

Send you my love on a wire

Lift you up, every time,

everyone, ooh,

pulls away, ooh

From you

She was face to face with you now, on her knees in front of you like a panther while her aura burned into you unforgivingly. You gave in, sending a small smile and nodding your head along with the music which contrasted your haunted, frozen, stilled persona from before. You let go, and gave into the warmth. You were sure that there were tons of fans seething in jealousy and in simultaneous excitement seeing her so close to you, and of course they were probably screaming and jumping into chaos, but she was all you could see. With the next few lyrics, you mouthed the words along with her.

Send you my love on a wire

Lift you up, every time, everyone, ooh, pulls away, ooh

It's a mechanical bull, the number one

You'll take a ride from anyone

Everyone wants a ride, pulls away, ooh, from you

She smirked widely once the song slowed, then leaned forward and just managed to catch your mouth in a heated kiss as the lights faded into darkness. You melted completely, kissing back with fever at how overwhelmingly, comfortably, numbing the warmth was. She grabbed your collar, pulling you close so her mouth was at your ear.

"Meet me behind the venue in 20"

#envy adams #scott pilgrim #scott pilgram vs the world #lets go lesbians #gay #brie larson #brie larson imagine #brie #larson #love #lesbian #romance #ramona flowers

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 9

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who has a phenomenal smile and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 9 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you ♥

Attention ! If you wanna be tagged pls send me a message or an ask it’s easier and faster for me than going through the tags of each part every time. Thank you :)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

The hardwood floor feels cold against Billy’s bare feet as he trudges out of the bedroom and towards (Y/N)’s kitchen in search for a coffee and a cigarette. Luke the cat is purring as he spots him, rubbing on his legs in hope for some food. 

Billy never particularly liked cats but this one has grown on him. He’s fat and lazy and blissfully unbothered by everything. He really really likes this cat. 

Starting the coffee machine, Billy reaches out for a mug and has to suppress a groan as his eye register just which one he’s grabbed. It’s black and shiny and there’s a picture of a much younger (Y/N) printed on it. She’s maybe 3 or 4 years in this picture, a poster child for innocence but her smile is the same one he’s grown so fond of. It’s what’s written beneath the photo that makes his heart drop. 

“ Happy father’s day to the best dad in the world. “ How fucking ironic.

Unconsciously, Billy’s eyes wander towards the doorway leading to the living room. His hands grip the mug a little tighter as he feels the anger start to bubble up again. 

There’s a man on this couch, he’s banged up and yet he’s sleeping safe and sound. That man shouldn’t be there, he gave up the right to be there years ago. There’s a man there that broke (Y/N) heart in a million little pieces and judging by the tears that stained her cheeks last night, he continues to do so to this day.

Maybe, Billy thinks, he’s projecting his own frustrations and pain and suffering onto this situation. Maybe this one can have a happy ending for (Y/N) and her dad. Though life has never really given Billy a reason to believe happy endings do exist outside of fairy tales. This can only be a crash and burn situation waiting to happen.

For the first time in his life, he hopes he’s wrong. He wants so desperately to see (Y/N) succeed, to see her happy. 

Luke nudges against Billy’s ankle, effectively softening the mood a little. 

“ Alright, amigo. I’ll give you some food. Calm down. “ 

Maneuvering his way around the kitchen and preparing the food for Luke, it all feels weirdly domestic. He can move around freely, no fears of making any wrong moves of messing anything up. This is what home feels like. What his own home should feel like. What it never does.

“ You talking to the cat ? “ 

A pair of eyes look back at Billy, that looks so familiar. They’re (Y/N)’s eyes. Identical and yet they couldn’t be more different. There’s no warmth in these eyes, no softness. No love.

The man’s eyes are cold and tired and empty. 

“ Yeah, so what ? “

“ No I — I wasn’t judging. Just — look kid I was just trying to start a conversation. “ 

“ Not a kid. “ 

There’s a shift in the air, a shift in Billy’s mood too. Suddenly he’s on high alert, extremely conscious of his surroundings, of the man’s moves. It’s a side effect of living with a dad who loves to smack you around. You get highly aware of everything around you. The good and the bad. And it’s scary. Like a constant shadow following you, ready to swallow you whole if you let your guard down for long enough.

(Y/N)’s dad lets out a long sigh then leans against the kitchen island. He looks worse for wear. Tired. Exhausted. The skin around his eye is colored in hues of red and blue and purple and it’s swollen almost shut. There’s dried blood around his nose and the cut above his eyebrow looks painful even from afar. 

Billy knows he shouldn’t, knows this is probably earning him a ton of bad karma points, but there’s a tiny part in him that take a sick satisfaction in this man’s misery. No matter how much his physical wounds hurt, they won’t ever come close to the emotional anguish he’s willingly put his own daughter through. And for that, Billy thinks, he deserves to suffer.

If anyone knows how it feels, it’s Billy. He’s been through it all, the physical and the emotional pain and if he was ever asked to chose, he’d take the hits over the heartbreak anytime. Those heal at least. 

“ I understand that you don’t like me a whole bunch. I — I deserve it, probably. “ the guy says, a slight southern accent ringing through his words.

A scoff falls from Billy’s lips “ probably. “ 

“ What do you want me to do ? I’m trying here, ya know. “ 

Billy turns around, pours himself another mug of coffee, black. Strong. Not because he wants it, one cup is usually enough for him in the morning, but because if he doesn’t take a minute to cool down the anger and frustration is gonna get the best of him and he’s gonna reach over the kitchen island and give this dude another black eye.

“ She didn’t have to take care a me last night but she did. I appreciate that, I do. I know she’s a good girl. “

“ You don’t know shit, man. “ 

“ And you do ? “

“ I was the one holding her when she cried for hours the last time you showed up, drunk off your ass. I know that, no matter how much shit you put her through, she still loves you and cares about you way more than you deserve. “

“ What I put her through ? “ 

“ Yeah. What you put her through when she was just a fucking kid. Smacking around her mom like it was nothing? Having (Y/N) witness all of it ? That shit is unforgivable in my book. If it was on me, I would’ve left you there last night. I wouldn’t have given you a second look. Fortunately for the both of us, she isn’t like that. She’s warm and soft and loving and she gives way more than she ever asks for. “ 

Billy moves closer to the guy, looks him straight in the eye. God how he wishes he could have the guts to say these things to his own father. Stand up to him. To put down his foot and make it clear that enough is enough.

Fact is, he doesn’t have it in him. Not now not yet.

But this isn’t Neil. It’s not his own abuser. Not his own demons he’s fighting here.

It’s (Y/N) and for her it’s worth the fight. For her it’s worth being brave.

“ Listen to me, “ he says and lowers his voice so tremendously it almost resembles a growl “ she once told me that people don’t need to earn love, that it’s not something one has to be deserving of. I don’t think that’s true all of the time. I think you need to do a whole lot to earn back her love and even then you won’t be deserving of it. Not after what you did. You’ll never be good enough for her. Never. She’ll love you anyway. That’s the world she’s living in. A good one. Where people forgive. I don’t share that sentiment. I don’t forgive. So if you hurt her again, I will hurt you. That black eye ? You’re going to wish for it back if I get my hands on you. I’ve done worse things to people and back then my only reason was boredom. This girl ? I love her. I’m sure you can imagine how much that feeling fuels my anger if someone were to hurt her. Are we clear ? “ he asks and pats the man on the shoulder. 

“ Are you threatening me ? “ 

“ No. I’m just making sure you know the stakes. “ 

Billy can already see this ending badly. It’s like a sixth sense for misery. He hopes, for (Y/N) sake, that he’s wrong.

The odds tell him he’s not.

“ She’s always a woman to me “ by Billy Joel is softly playing from the vinyl player in the corner of the recreation room. (Y/N) sits by a table helping one of the younger girls draw a bunch of flowers with crayons in all colors of the rainbow.

Billy never particularly liked the song until he heard (Y/N) sing along to it one day in her kitchen. She was wearing his shirt and her hair was piled on top of her head and there was still a faint imprint of her pillow visible on her cheek. She’s never looked more gorgeous than in that moment. 

It became one of his favorite songs then. He thinks she knows. Sometimes she hums it when they sit on her couch and she softly plays with his hair. Things don’t feel so bad then. 

As if she can sense his thoughts, (Y/N) lifts her eyes off the drawing and finds his across the room. Her lips are pulled into a tiny smile, it’s hardly there but it’s enough for Billy to notice. For him to understand. 

“ She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes “ Billy thinks the guy might be onto something there.

This is the first time she’s smiled since everything with her dad happened. Her dad, who’s still waiting at her place for them to return. She’s offered him to stay for a while, “just to get back on your feet”. It makes Billy uncomfortable, so fucking uncomfortable. He can already see her making up scenarios in her head, of a future that involves her dad. A happy one where the past is the past and wounds and magically healed. He loves her unwavering positivity. He loves that she believes in a world where good things happen to good people. 

He also knows that this makes her vulnerable though. If things don’t go the way she imagines them to go now, and they won’t, it’s gonna hit her twice as hard. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to stomach seeing her go through that hurt. If only he could take it from her. He’d do it. In a heartbeat. 

“ You’re doing it wrong “ a tiny voice speaks up from beside him. Jack is 6, he’s got shaggy blond hair and blue eyes and a bright smile missing a few milk teeth already. Jack, like (Y/N), believes in a world where ordinary things are magical and love if free and good things happen even though the world has done nothing but prove him wrong. Jack reminds Billy entirely too much of another little boy with blond hair and blue eyes and a perfect little world.

That boy is gone now. Buried underneath a thousand layers of hurt and bitterness and cruel words from a person that’s supposed to love him. Billy hopes things can turn out different for Jack.

“ What do you mean, I’m doing it wrong ? I’m literally just coloring in this fu — this picture. “ 

If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he’d sit in a room with a bunch of kids and his — his girl, coloring in pictures and listening to cheesy pop love songs, he would’ve told the person they’re insane. It’s his new normal though, as normal as life can be for him anyway. And even though he will never admit this to anyone, not even (Y/N), he might even enjoy these moments a little. Problems seem to be non existent for the for the time being. The air feels lighter. The mood feel softer. It gets easier to breathe, even if it’s just for an hour.

It’s, and he’s not going to repeat this, it’s kinda fun. 

“ Yeah but you made the dinosaur green. It’s not. It’s supposed to be brown. “ Jack speaks up again, pointing his small finger towards Billy’s green T-rex drawing.

“ How’d you know ? You ever seen a T-rex ? “ 

“ Uh-huh. “ Jack nods “ my mom took me to a museum once when we visited grandma in New York City. They had lots of pictures and postcards. Maybe if mom — if she — maybe I can go again and bring you one. “ 

Billy doesn’t know this boy’s story but it’s clear to him that something about his mom ain’t the way it’s supposed to be. He knows Jack stays here permanently so whatever it is, it can’t be good.

“ See, I’ve never seen a T-rex so I wouldn’t know about the color. I’d appreciate that postcard. “ 

Jack nods but the childlike wonder, the excitement, is gone. He’s more timid now. Almost sad.

“ I don’t think my mommy is gonna come get me anytime soon. But if she does and we go to New York I promise to bring you one. You’re my friend now. “ 

God this kid is trying to kill him, huh ? 

“ Mommy hasn’t visited since when it was snowing outside. I miss her sometimes. “ 

Yep, Billy’s heart was officially shattered into a million little pieces laid out on the table in front of him, right above the drawing of the (wrongfully) green colored dino.

“ I miss my mom too. “ 

It’s the first time he’s told anyone this is — ever. Sometimes he likes to make himself believe that he doesn’t miss her anymore. That she effectively lost the right of being missed when she chose to leave. That’s a lie though. Absolute bullshit.

If anyone needs to hear the truth right now, it’s this little boy. And the little boy inside Billy that’s still missing his mom an awful lot, no matter how much grown-up bitter Billy likes to deny it.

“ Where is she ? “ Jack asks with that unbothered childlike curiosity.

“ She uh — I don’t know for sure but I think she’s back home in California. “ 

“ Was she not ready to be a mommy ? Mine wasn’t. “ 

“ I — I don’t know, Jack. “ 

“ When I last saw my mommy she hugged me really tight. And she gave me a teddy bear and she told me that she loves me very much but that she’s sad and sad people can’t be good mommys so she’s going away to become happy again and when she’s not sad anymore she’ll come back and we can be happy together. Maybe your mommy was sad too“ 

Billy has to swallow back a knot forming in his throat. Has to keep the tears at bay. This is not place to cry, Billy. Not in public, Billy. Never in public, Billy.

“ Maybe. “ 

“ Well I hope she is happy again soon so you can be happy with her. “ 

Wherever she is, Billy too hopes she’s happy. 

Maybe Jack has a point, maybe one day they can be happy together. Maybe when he isn't sad anymore. He hopes she’s there already waiting for him.

“ I’m not saying you shouldn’t let him stay. I’m just not okay with you being alone with him “ 

“ He’s my dad, Billy. “ 

“ Exactly. “ 

One word conveys all he feels on that subject. Their track record is just too fucked up to ever trust someone just because they’re supposed to be “family”. It just doesn’t mean shit. 

Billy’s holding onto a bag of grocery they have picked up, as (Y/N) opens the door to her place. She’s told Billy it’s okay for him to go home though there’s no way in hell he’s gonna leave her alone with this dude. And home and “home” anyway.

“ I know what he did was — “ she doesn’t finish the sentence though, as her eyes fall onto the state of her apartment.

Every drawer seems to have been pulled opened and ransacked, there’s cutlery on the floor and not a single cupboard door is closed. The pillows that used to be neatly placed on the couch are thrown everywhere.

“ Dad ? “ 

And there it is. The metaphorical bomb Billy knew was gonna come but wished so hard it wouldn’t. 

His eyes wander around the room before they land on a piece of paper on the kitchen island. He picks it up and reads the first few words before knowing exactly what it is. The heartbreak he so desperately wanted to safe her from, all written down neatly in blue ink on white paper.

“ Some of my money is gone, Billy “ (Y/N) says as she hurries out of the bedroom, an empty old can of Folgers coffee in hand. 

“ You should read this “ is all he says as he holds out the letter to her. What does one say in a situation like that ? Hey babe, here’s some heartbreak for ya ?! 

She carefully takes it from his hands and lets her eyes move across the page. He can see clear as day what the letter says, doesn’t even have to read it himself. It’s all there in her eyes. In the way the warmth slowly vanished and is replaced by a cold, a sadness, utter despair. 

He warned him. He fucking warned him not go break her. Not again. And what does he do ? Exactly that.

“ Billy ? “ she says, a sniffle evident in her voice.

“ Yeah ? “ 

“ What did you say to him ? “ 

“ What did I say to him ? “ 

“ Uh-huh. “ 

Why does it matter, he thinks. The guy is gone. Up and left as he always assumed he would.

“ He says in this letter that you talked to him so what the fuck did you say ? “ 

The fury her voice holds, he’s never seen in her before. It’s terrifying. 

“ I told him not to hurt you again. Told him he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. “ 

“ That’s not on you to decide “ she yells. It’s the first time he’s heard her yell like this. With pain in her voice with — disappointment. 

“ I was trying to help “ 

“ Well stop ! “ 

“ I can’t. I love you and I know what guys like him are like. I — “ 

“ You don’t know anything “ she’s crying now and as much as he wants to hold her, he also feels the anger bubble up again. There’ve been many moment where Billy was in the wrong, where he deserved to be yelled at. Not this time. He did nothing wrong this time. Hearing her say these things is not only shitty, it also hurt. A whole fucking lot.

“ I know what shitty dads are like. They don’t give a shit, (Y/N) “.

 “ Maybe yours doesn’t. But my dad is not Neil. Maybe he can change. Maybe he can love me again. Unlike yours, mine at least he used to love me. “ 

The anger is gone. The sadness is gone. Everything he’s felt up to that moment is just gone and he’s left feeling completely numb as those words leave her lips.

He can see the realisation in her eyes of what she just said. 

“ Billy I — “ 

“ Fuck you, (Y/N) “ 

She’s following him out of the apartment and down the corridor, down the stairs, out of the building and into the parking lot. And she’s crying. Crying up a goddamn storm.

Billy can’t bring himself to care. Not right then. Not after what she just said to him.

“ Billy please. “ 

“ You know what (Y/N), “ now it’s his time to yell, “ maybe my dad doesn’t love me but at least I am honest enough with myself to accept that fact. At least I don’t pretend like my life is all rainbows and butterflies and sappy love songs. I know he doesn’t love me and I accept how fucked up and shitty it is. At least I don’t live in a fantasy world where everything fine and dandy and problems are magically fixed by singing kumbaya and drawing my feelings. “ 

As he gets in the car and speeds off, leaving her alone in the dark, his thoughts twist and tangle in all kinds of ways. None of them clear. All of them a blurred mess. 

He only notices the tears running down his cheeks as he arrives home and gets out of the car, wiping them away so that Neil won’t see them. He fears he’ll be able to tell anyway.

With heavy steps Billy walks up to the house then tries to turn the key as quietly as possible. If ever he believed in a higher power, Billy prays that now is the time they chose to be kind to him and make sure Neil doesn’t catch him coming home late. 

But as he stated before, life’s hardly ever been kind to him and tonight is no exception.

“ Where’ve you been ? “ Neil asks as he leans against the door leading into Billy’s room.

“ Work. “ 

“ Not until now you haven’t “.

“ A friend’s “.

Neil raises his eyebrow, for a moment contemplating his next step. Usually Billy would care, about a possible beating, about whatever nasty words Neil is about to spit at him. Though tonight he doesn’t give a shit. Whatever he does, whatever he says, it won’t hurt nearly as much as (Y/N)’s words just did.

“ Uh-huh and what got you all wheepy ? “ 

“ I doesn’t matter “ he murmures and turns towards his room, effectively being stopped by Neil’s arm reaching out and blocking the way. 

“ What was that ? “ 

“ I said It doesn’t matter “ 

For a moment the two just stare at each other, matching fury in their eyes. Silently challenging each other to make the next step.

Neil grabs Billy’s jaw in between his fingers and squeezes just a little. Just hard enough to hurt but not leave a mark or cause serious damage.

“ Thin ice, Billy. Thin fucking ice. “ 

With that he lets go and moves towards the kitchen.

Billy hurries into his room, slams the door and slumps down on the floor besides his bed. His head drops down to rest on his knees and another round of hot salty tears roll down his cheeks.

If this way any other situation he’d be cuddled up on (Y/N)’s couch, telling her about the things that upset him and she’d tell him that she understands and that things can only get better from here on out and then she’d kiss him and put his heart back together little by little. 

But what if the only one that can fix your heart, is the one that destroyed it in the first place ? Not broke. Destroyed.

Billy reaches up towards the phone resting on his bedside table and pulls it down towards him. His fingers move across the buttons in an almost trance like state. He knows the number by heart. Has dialed it so many times. So many times.

It rings. Once. Twice. Three Times.

He wonders if she even picks up.

“ Hello ? “ 

If only hearing her voice could make things right. Could fix him in one way or another. If only hearing her voice could make him feel like home the way it used to do. If only hearing her voice was enough.

“ Hello ? “ she asks again.

Billy clears his voice then takes a long breath, bracing himself for what’s about to come and then. Then he answers.

“ Hi, mom. It’s me. Billy. “ 

_______________________

@babygal-babygal / @anxiousamandapanda / @imjusthereforsupernatural / @chhhcherybomb / @tomarisela / @noodlenerd101 / @xxcxrolinexx / @bippity-boppity-boopa / @mcrmarvelloki / @silver-winter-wolf / @thecrowclubsmanager / @theroyalbrownbarbie / @salemlysi / @sarai-ibn-la-ahad / @asheseiler / @stra-vage / @ssstutteringbbbill / @biliyonce / @addictofsupernatural / @angelophany / @charmed-asylum / @xxemoluverxx / @killer-queen-xo / @1lluminaticonfirmed / @rebel-broken-angel /

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic

[kvhottie]

“By the end of their 3rd year, they had lost count of everything. They’d kiss too often—stolen in between classes and even in dusty closets—and had gone much, much further than just exchanging breaths and clothing."

Snapshots of Kageyama and Hinata’s deepening relationship, and the many things they’ve shared and borrowed.

Rating: Teen |Pairing: KageHina |Tags: Slightly Canon Divergent, Spoilers for Chapter 378, Fluff and Humor

[Ao3]

________________ 

It was a freezing cold day in the middle of winter during their first year. The uncovered tips of their hands, nose, and ears turned a painful and throbbing red as they bared the icy breeze on their way home. Hinata buried his face in the teal scarf around his neck, the light-yellow hoodie under his uniform barely providing enough warmth. His brittle fingers held on to his creaking bike beside him. Yet, even while he was shivering himself, he poked fun at the trembling Kageyama next to him who was bitterly suffering because he had forgotten his scarf at home. 

“You can walk closer to me for warmth,” Hinata snickered.

Kageyama shook his head, hugging his arms closer to his chest, “I’m not cold.”

“Yeah right, I’m sure even your snot is frozen.”

“And I’m sure your hands will be stuck to your handlebars,” Kageyama said with a darted glare at Hinata.

“Shut it, only one hand is stuck.” Hinata unraveled one side of his scarf from around his neck and offered it to Kageyama. “I’ll share it with you until the station. And don’t be stubborn—we can’t have you getting sick.”

Kageyama gave a short grunt but inched closer, wrapping the end of the scarf around his neck. There was a visible sense of slight relief showing on his face, which he did a very poor job at hiding, and he muttered a low ‘thanks’. Hinata gave him a smug but satisfied grin and they continued quietly walking to the station.

Their steps in time with each other, there was something reassuring in the warmth trapped between them.

________________ 

During the spring of their 2nd year, clothing was never offered but often borrowed—mainly by Hinata, who would leave his head at home if it wasn’t attached to his neck. This time around he had forgotten his gym uniform and had to drag his feet to ask Kageyama for his extra pair...yet again.

“I should start charging you,” complained Kageyama as he shoved his folded gym jersey and pants into Hinata’s hands. He slammed his locker shut. “You should just get an extra pair of your own.”

“You know I’d probably also forget that at home. I make sure to wash it when I give it back right? So don’t be so sulky,” Hinata nudged Kageyama with his elbow as he tried to appease him with his usual toothy, bright smile.

Kageyama covered Hinata’s face with one hand and squeezed a bit. “You think just because you flash me that smile, I’ll happily do what you say.”

“Ow. It works half the time, right? Just admit you’ve grown weak to it.”

Kageyama released Hinata’s face with a sigh and ruffled his already messy orange hair, “Whatever. Go have fun looking like a toddler dressed in adult’s clothes.”

“Hey!”

Kageyama was right…every time Hinata wore his spare uniform, he looked like the clothes were swallowing him. He had to roll up the sleeves of the jacket and the legs of the pants to account for the extra inches of fabric and though he mostly looked ridiculous, Kageyama sometimes caught himself thinking he also looked cute.   

Well, honestly, it had become more often than just ‘sometimes’. Those mushy thoughts about that rambunctious ball of energy had begun occupying whatever was left of his brain when volleyball wasn’t on his mind. And he didn’t hate it—okay, he also didn’t like it because who actually enjoys a heavy heart or unnecessary doses of adrenaline just because someone is standing close to you—but none of this was all that bad.

These unrequited feelings had yet to cause any pain. It helped that the feelings were still fresh and uncomplicated. Kageyama enjoyed the scent of Hinata’s detergent on the clothes he returned, the feel of Hinata’s longer hair on his fingers, and that stupid smile he always used to try to get Kageyama to do what he wanted. But above all, Kageyama loved that Hinata always picked volleyball, and in turn him, before anything else. He was always by Kageyama’s side during lunch, during practice, after school, and they’d even started meeting here and there during weekends. Kageyama was perfectly content…at first.  

But as summer lolled closer, his feelings also warmed up and morphed.

The ever-friendly Hinata was growing in popularity. The girls around them would whisper “Hinata-senpai” this and “Hinata-kun” that. The guys around him wanted to be his friend and steal him for a game of basketball during lunch. Hinata was oblivious to all of this, and still preferred to spend his lunch inside the classroom or practicing with Kageyama, but the few times Hinata agreed to the requests of these newcomers Kageyama could feel his stomach turn.

There was distance growing between them. As they thought about their future, Kageyama slowly planted roots of legacy and reputation in Japan and shot up like a tree with recognition. Hinata looked at the expanse of the sky, like he always did, and aimed his sights very far from Kageyama’s side: Brazil. At first Kageyama didn’t think too hard about it. How typical of Hinata to take the scenic but hard mountain trail to his goal. Yeah, so what if he was going to go to Brazil to play beach volleyball. He’d return soon, anyway.

Right?

Because it felt wrong if they were apart for too long.

This was all jealousy, of course. He wasn’t that stupid—by this point he had a decent, though still lacking, grasp on his own emotions. He knew adoration, he knew anger, and now he very clearly knew jealousy. The thought of Hinata being by someone else’s side, receiving other people’s serves, made his eye twitch, hands ball up, and throat go dry. It pricked his heart with a wave of hopelessness that wouldn’t be alleviated until Hinata was back at his side.

And it never went away.

No matter how much Kageyama shut his eyes and wished it away, these feelings persisted, slowly simmering in his chest. Until they boiled over…

It was a humid, rainy day late in the summer. Kageyama and Hinata had gotten soaked on their way to Hinata’s house for a last-minute study session (neither of them had done their summer homework, unsurprisingly). No one was home so the two boys waddled to the closet near the first-floor bathroom, a trail of water behind them. Hinata gave Kageyama a towel, took one for himself, and led them to his room as they pat themselves down. Hinata was the first to pull off his uniform shirt, the wet fabric sticking to his skin as he brought it over his head. Kageyama caught himself staring too hard at his lean frame and pristine back and quickly whipped his head away as he took off his own shirt.

“You can borrow some of my clothes for now, though they’ll all fit you small,” Hinata said as he tossed Kageyama some grey joggers and a red t-shirt.

Kageyama shuffled into each, sighing when the shirt only went as low as his belly button and the joggers were too high on his legs. “I look ridiculous.”

Hinata bit back a laugh and muffled between involuntary snickers, “What? No, not at all. The crop top really suits your abs.”

“Forget this.” Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed the hem of the shirt to start taking it off.

“Eh! No, fun. Keep it on!” Hinata yelled as he grabbed at Kageyama’s arms with enough force that they fumbled backwards to the floor. Hinata scurried around and mounted Kageyama’s hips, pinning his arms down. “My win. The shirt stays on.”

For a moment, all Kageyama could think about was the difference in temperature between the cool hardwood floor against his back and the spot where his hips met Hinata’s inner thighs. But before his mind could even process their current predicament, Hinata leaned down until his face was way, way too close to Kageyama’s.

“Do you ever think about kissing me?” Hinata murmured, staring down into Kageyama’s eyes without an ounce of hesitation. Kageyama was usually the one looking down at him, so if his heart weren’t trying to jump out of his mouth at the moment, he might have even found this angle refreshing.

“Wh-Why would I think about that?” Kageyama huffed, eyes flittering between looking at the low table beside them and Hinata’s earnest face.

“I do.” Hinata’s eyes landed on Kageyama’s lips. “It only started recently, but I think about it all the time. I know it’s weird, but I just—”

“It’s not weird,” Kageyama said as he met Hinata’s eyes once more, this time with determination of his own. “At least…not to me.”

Hinata’s face melted into a smile that was both a bit playful and also relieved. “Then, can I kiss you?” Hinata said as he let go of Kageyama’s arms to lower himself onto his elbows at either side of Kageyama’s head.

Kageyama brought his right hand to Hinata’s face, index finger slowly running against his cheek and then to his ear. “Yeah,” he managed to say despite his pounding heart and headrush.

Hinata dipped his head further, his full body pressed against Kageyama’s. Softly, their lips met in a curious peck. Hinata smiled against Kageyama’s lips, withdrawing for a moment to look at the flushed expression Kageyama was sure he was sporting, and then pressed their lips together again. This time their mouths gently glided against each other and though Kageyama was a bit stiff and unsure of what to do, he eased into Hinata’s lead.

Kageyama disliked how the floor restricted his head movement so he pushed himself up with his left arm, right arm snaking around Hinata’s lower back to keep him on his lap as he sat up. Hinata laughed—maybe at Kageyama’s eagerness or maybe at the general clumsiness of this all—and wrapped his arms around Kageyama’s neck, hips flushed against Kageyama’s.

“I like this better,” Hinata whispered into Kageyama’s ear.

A shiver ran up Kageyama’s spine and he let out a shaky, strained breath. His left hand hesitantly rested across his right hand on the small of Hinata’s back, itching to dip fingers below the hem of his shirt. “We’re never getting our homework done.” Kageyama said without real conviction.

Hinata leaned a bit back so they could see each other’s faces. “You want to stop kissing?” he asked with his lips twisting into smirk.

“No.” Kageyama grumbled, leaning down to take Hinata’s lips once more. The warmth of Hinata’s mouth and body against his own, and the comfort it brought his heart. He was sure would be perfectly content kissing Hinata until the end of time.

And, if only for this sweet moment, there was no space in his mind for volleyball.

________________ 

By the end of their 3rd year, they had lost count of everything. They’d kiss too often—stolen in between classes and even in dusty closets—and had gone much, much further than just exchanging breaths and clothing.

The large majority of borrowed clothes were shirts: some that fit too big and some that fit too small, some held on to on purpose, and too few returned. Come graduation there was very little that they hadn’t shared with each other, but at the same time, there was so much they were keeping tucked inside their hearts—much like the other’s clothing they kept in a corner of their closets for no better reason than it bringing them comfort.

Hinata was going to take a year to prepare for Brazil and then live there for two years.

Kageyama was staying in Japan but leaving Miyagi to join the V. League.

Those were facts they both had let silently sink in for the last few months, reaching more often for each other’s lips and bodies to fend off the sadness that came with thinking they’d be so far apart. They’d be fine. Three years was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Afterall, the most important thing they shared was a promise.

“Hey…” Kageyama muffled around Hinata’s lips, pulling himself away for a second to look into those honeyed eyes he’d grown to love so much. “Instead of making out outside the gym, want to practice a bit for the last time?”

Hinata sighed, giving Kageyama a tender smile. “We said we wouldn’t do that, Kageyama.”

Kageyama pressed his lips to Hinata’s forehead, hand diving into his now longer nest of hair. Kageyama didn’t want to admit he was anxious, but he knew that the strain in his voice would betray him.  “I know. I promise, just one final time…”

Yet, no matter how big the lump in his throat was becoming, he was determined to see Hinata off with a smile.

They threw their bags, diplomas and gakurans in a corner—the removal of the gakuran being particularly easy since they had given away all their buttons to their admirers and gifted each other the 2nd button. It was unbearably cheesy, and their embarrassment mixed with all the other emotions swirling in their stomachs was what prompted their earlier make out session.

“I want to receive your serve,” Hinata loudly stated inside the storage closet.

“That’s it?” Kageyama asked as they pulled the net outside.

“That’s it.”

After they set up the net, Kageyama walked to the corner of his side of the court with the ball in hand. He felt happy holding any volleyball he could get his hands on, but something about holding this one on this court and across from this beautiful person in this very moment, was a feeling he probably wouldn’t ever be able to perfectly replicate.

He spun the ball like he usually did and served it at full power. In a split second Hinata had position himself right in front of the ball and perfectly received it, bouncing it to where the setter would stand. The echoes of the ball bouncing on the floor reverberated in the air and Kageyama felt his heart contract painfully.

“See you later, Kageyama” Hinata said with that bright smile of his. Even though they had agreed on this, it felt sudden, as if he wanted to run away.

“Yeah. See you later,” Kageyama replied with an attempt at a smile. “And hurry up and cut your hair. You look like a bush.”

Hinata grabbed his belongings with a chuckle, though the end of it died in his throat. “I was just going to do that, okay?! Geez.”

And that was supposed to be that.

But with every step Hinata took toward that open gym door, the stronger the prick in Kageyama’s heart. As if there was just one more thing to do—just one more thing to say.

“…Wait!” Kageyama yelled.

Hinata spun around, eyes wide and glossy. “Y-Yeah?”

Kageyama rushed to his bag and took out his black Karasuno jersey. He marched up to Hinata and shoved it in his hands. “Here. Keep this.”

Hinata grabbed the jersey and slowly brought it to his chest to hug it. “…I’ll borrow it.” He searched his own bag and passed Kageyama his Karasuno jersey. “As long as you borrow mine.”

Kageyama squeezed the fabric of Hinata’s jersey in his hands and tried to keep his voice steady. “I’ll hand it back next time I see you on the court.”

Hinata gave a soft laugh while rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s a promise.”

What does someone say to the person they’ve loved from a distance for the past three years? A person who was their best friend, their best teammate, and their first love. A person who never stepped down from a challenge, who was competitive to a fault yet warmhearted, and whose sleeping face he had countlessly kissed across his phone screen on a video call.

Kageyama had always pictured how their reunion would turn out but actually running into Hinata on his way to the bathroom certainly wasn’t it. And he’d never planned what to say either. So, he just spat out whatever his wired mind produced.

“Not going to have any bowel issues today, are you?” Kageyama yelled out. Not the most romantic first line for a reunion, but whatever.

Hinata stopped in his tracks and turned to face Kageyama with a grin. They shared a short-lived moment of silence which was interrupted with Hinata rushing to Kageyama and giving him—well, the part of his torso he could reach—a bear hug.

“Woah,” Kageyama said in surprise, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You sure have gotten strong.”

“I can probably lift you,” Hinata bragged as he squeezed a bit harder and then let go. “But I don’t want to risk doing anything stupid before our match. I don’t want to give you an excuse when we beat your team fair and square.”

Kageyama smirked and looked to the right and left of them. He then swiftly dipped down to give Hinata the shortest of kisses, left hand sliding down to link their pinkies as he pulled away to set some distance between them. “I missed you so much I’m not even annoyed by that statement. Even though it’s obvious my team is going to win.”

Hinata laughed, his cheeks blushing faintly as he met Kageyama’s eyes. “Who knew you’d be so ballsy…I missed you too. More than I thought possible.”

Kageyama squeezed Hinata’s pinky with his own. “You kept our promise.”

“Of course. Did you keep yours?”

“As if it was hard to keep…” Kageyama looked off to the side, his free hand rubbing the back of his reddening neck. “Your jersey practically lives in my sports bag.”

Hinata’s lips pulled up into a toothy smile. “I did the same. Let’s switch after the match?”

“Okay.” Kageyama let go of Hinata’s finger. “See you after the match. Go use the bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah!” Hinata turned to walk to the bathroom but turned right back around, catching Kageyama’s arm. “Ah, hold up.”

“What?”

Hinata lowered his voice so only Kageyama could hear him. “If I win this match, I’m going to propose to you.”

“H-Hah? Wait, Hinata—”

“If you hate the idea, just don’t lose,” Hinata said with a playful salute before rushing into the bathroom.

Kageyama stood frozen in place. In his mind he had no doubt that his team would win.

…But for the first time in Kageyama’s life, he didn’t completely detest the idea of losing a match.

#haikyuu!! #kagehina #fanfic