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vanillann · 3 years

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real or not real? (natasha romanoff x reader)

a/n: this is based off the hunger games because i just finished reading the books!! also a little badass woman fic because of international woman’s day!! love all woman, I MEAN ALL WOMAN!!

word count: 1.6k

natasha romanoff masterlist

As I finally landed, I watched everyone face drop once they recognized who I was. My brain felt like static as I took the steps to where the team was camped out.

I watched Steve Rogers, I think that’s what the file I was given said, stand up and look at the other members of the squad. As he approached I felt flashes of memories, or maybe memories, flood me.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” The blond approached me but stopped a few feet away. He tried to keep his voice clear of emotion but it was useless, I couldn’t be trusted yet.

“I was told you needed back-up,” I didn’t bring up how the nice blonde woman, I think she said her name was Pepper, argued with Mr. Fury for days about me re-joining the team.

“Well you came just in time.”

By the look in his eye, I didn't want what he wanted in the slightest.

I followed him to the tents that were hidden among the trees, a shiver going up my spine when I made eye contact with any members of the team.

I could see old versions of myself interacting with each, but some felt so real and some felt so fake I couldn’t put them right in my mind.

One I caught the red head, Natasha, eye I felt my body grow stiff. She was common in my memories, some of her gentle and meaningful and some of her enraged with bullets flying at me. Tony had informed me that most of the bad memories are Hydra’s doing, that they were never real. I couldn’t help but wonder how true that was as she backed away from me when I walked past her.

“(Y/N) was dropped off for back-up,” Mr. Rogers spoke from behind me, taking the seat next to the brunette with the metal arm. I had spoken to him twice when I was in the hospital, apparently he had something to do with my capture and refused to see me more after that.

“Um, Cap?” Clint, or was it Carl, spoke up. He gave me a few side glances but said nothing else until he was pulled aside.

As soon as they were out of ear shot I watched them go at each other, arguing about who knew what, most likely me. I did my best to ignore the eyes on me, but I couldn’t help but snap.

“Have something to say?”

All eyes flooded off me, except for Natasha who crossed her arms and stared me down.

“You aren’t going to try and kill me again, are you?”

Her question enraged me, but I had no reason to be mad. I was the one who attacked, but I swore she was after me.

“I thought you were a threat,” my words felt icy as they hung in the air.

“I wasn’t before and I’m not now,” her words were just as cold, running in my blood like a river in December.

“Look I’m sorry, okay? I have all these memories and I can’t tell what’s real or not, so yes I attacked you,” I sat against the log farthest from anyone, so I couldn’t hurt someone.

“Then ask.”

Mr. Rogers came back, taking the seat he took seconds ago and watched me closely. He looked more opened to talking then the C man that came back with him.

“Will that work?” I looked to Banner, the doctor who checks on me often when I was strapped to the hospital bed.

“It can’t hurt,” he shrugged his shoulder and continued to look around the group. They spoke with their eyes and I couldn’t help but wonder would the old me under their silent conversation.

“I was a part of your group, real or not real?”

“Real,” Rogers spoke up, nodding to each member as if to tell them it was okay, but I couldn’t be sure of that.

I nodded, letting the fake and real memories flood me within every inch of my brain. I had enough questions to keep them up all night.

“I was kidnapped in my sleep by Hydra, real or not real?”

“Real,” the man with the metal arm spoke this time, giving me the nod this time and I felt as if he was letting me join their secret conversation.

“It was a few months ago, we couldn’t get to you in time,” Banner filled me in more.

I could vaguely remember the screaming and the way my bed-sheets felt that night, but everything else was slightly blurry.

“Natasha tried to kill me, real or not real?”

“Not real,” she was quick to set me straight, giving me a look I couldn’t read but I didn’t mind it, not when it was coming from her.

She was the only person being straight with me, not jumping around the conversation that I needed to have for my sake.

“You’re favorite color is Orange, real or not real?” I didn’t take my eyes off her, the conversation felt so intimate even if everyone was watching.

“Yes, and yours in red because you say it reminds you of my hair,” she looked to her hands, rubbing them up and down the side of her thighs.

“Okay,” I nodded as I absorbed the information about myself, the first piece of information I’ve heard that wasn’t in a file.

“I think we should start getting some sleep, we have a long day ahead,” Rogers pointed to his tent, his voice soft yet firm.

Nobody disagrees, each telling the other goodnight while I got head titles and I'm waves. The only people to tell me goodnight were Rogers and his friend, who I think was named James but I remembered his face clearly now.

I was once his friend too.

I didn’t move from my log, I couldn’t sleep much anyways and I couldn’t be shoved into a tent alone and expected not to go crazy. I said nothing as Natasha moved a few logs closer to me, staring at the ground as she waited.

“Anymore questions?”

“Plenty, but do you have the answers?” I ducked my head, hoping to get a glimpse of her eyes but I was memorized when I did.

Her face flashed over my brain, the same red but straighter and her eye shined under a street lamp. Her lips were as soft as hotel pillows and her touch was like magic as it ghosted over my shoulder.

She looked like magic before the sight was gone and I watched her slightly dirty hair hang in her eye, that wasn't as bright, and the memories started to fog again.

“You kissed me, real or not real?”

The silent felt like screaming as she chewed on her bottom lip, waiting for her words to work.

“Real.”

It wasn’t as confident as her words before, but it felt so much more honest than anything I remembered.

“How did I think you wanted to kill me then?”

“Hydra turned all your memories of me to shit, all the ones they knew about,” she rolled something in-between her finger and I wanted to ask but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

“Do you remember any good ones?”

She held back a laugh, finally looking up from the ground to me with a sad smile stretch on her lips.

“Plenty,” she nodded, going back to the object in her hand.

“Tell me about them, please?”

The ‘please’ sounded so desperate in my head, but it seemed to bring her ease as she moved her body to face me.

“We used to window shop like crazy together,” she looked up at my confused face and continued, “it’s like walking around and looking at stuff you’ll never buy.”

The memories of walking on a sidewalk with her filled me up, the feeling of gentle flowers brushed against my skin filled me.

“Then one time, after we kissed, you pulled me into this antique store and told me to pick something. We argued about it for ten minutes before you gave me this look I could never say no to, so I grabbed the closet thing and told you it’s what I wanted. It was the locket, I hate wearing it because it's so big so I keep it in my pocket,” she held out the locket in question, waiting for me to draw closer and once I did she opened it.

Inside was a photo of me, rolling my eyes at the camera but a hint of a smile on my lips. I looked so content for someone rolling their eyes, I wonder if I always like that.

“You were, never took many things seriously,” I didn’t realize I spoke out loud, but I was glad I did when she almost laughed at the memories.

That when it started to really hit me, not just the memories but the feelings. They laughs and the jokes, and all the inbetweens. I didn’t really know what I was saying, not for a while, but I couldn’t stop myself.

“You love me, real or not real?”

Her answer wasn’t hesitate, even with the same pause, she knew as soon as I asked she just wasn’t ready to say it.

“Real,” her voice was barely above a whisper but I heard it.

I wanted to respond with ‘me too’ or something along the lines, but my answer was much more complex and I couldn’t only hope she understood.

“I think the old me loved you back, from how I feel when I think of the little things, and I can only hope the new me can remember why.”

I was scared when she said nothing, as if I made an impossible situation worse, but when she looked up at me her eyes twinkled again and her hair appeared redder.

“Let me know when you do?”

“You’ll be the first to know, Nat.”

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forthehpfanboys · 3 years

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Gold Strings & Red Picks- PT 1

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: The Weasley's invented a band! Having a band, means you need a band manager; someone to help find venues, gigs and sponsors. After finding one, Ron seems to be hopeless drawn toward them.

Warnings: flirting, swearing, bickering, sexual tension??, Punk Pining Ron but also Smug Ron, naming a guitar ‘Cherry Popper’, dm me if I missed any.

Notes: I plan on having some chapters kinda spicy. I made an entire gif for this and yes it is Rupert playing 👀 and god is this self indulgent. Hope you guys like it!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWERE~

It was a Friday morning when you quit the Static Dragons and posted the news on every piece of social media you had. It didn’t take long for you to edit your bios to state you were looking for a new band, and it managed to catch someone's eye just as quickly. It was Monday evening when you got a dm on Instagram from a user called ddchrmrs-official. The user basically sent you a paragraph about how he was the lead singer of a band he and his siblings threw together and they were looking for a new manager. You agreed to meet with them and talk about the potential of the band and he agreed, using more than a few explanation marks after his reply. He even sent you a few of their songs once he deemed you worthy enough.

So, you found a dining hall, an equal distance from your house and theirs, and with the lead singer's approval, Fred, you booked it for Tuesday afternoon. Fred even made a post explaining the good news- why he was acting like one of the Weird Sisters followed him back, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t help but be excited too. The songs were good- more punk-rock than you assumed from the band's name. Something about the name Daydream Charmers gave off a softer, boyband type.

The day of the band meeting couldn’t have gone much worse. You missed your morning alarm, you couldn’t find your laptop charger and the clothes you picked out the night before ended up covered in stains from breakfast. GPS even gave you the fastest route and you still managed to be 10 minutes late, but you managed to find the right hall. It was a bit different compared to the pristine image shown on the website.

The roof looked like it was caving under an invisible weight and the actual size of the hall looked like a small barn. The walls were made of red and black bricks, most of which seemed to be chipped, broken or bending, like it was being crushed. The door frame was slanting, the door’s white paint was chipping, the sidewalk was splitting at almost every corner. You were desperately hoping the building was enchanted so it was bigger (and nicer looking) on the inside.

You parked your car on the pebble covered asphalt, right next to an equally old and rusty blue car. You had no idea how four people, a sound system, a bass, an electric guitar and a full drum set fit inside of the small wagon, but figured they managed to spell the inside bigger. You weren’t bothered by it- how could you be? You felt your wand hit your laptop inside the bag as you threw it over your shoulder after climbing out of the car. Shutting the door, you hurried up the broken concrete, shoving your keys in your pocket.

You chewed on your lip, adjusting the collar of your shirt as you approached the door. A smile pulled at your lips at the refreshing sound of genuine laughter and bickering. You had an internal battle of whether you should knock or just barge in. It sounded like they were having their fun and you didn’t want to interrupt anything. Soon enough, the laughter was dying down and someone was strumming a bass quietly, practicing a few chords from one of the songs Fred gave you. You raised a fist to knock on the door and the silence that followed was close to defining. Soft footsteps followed the silence and you swore you could hear soft breathing behind the door before it was yanked open.

“Hey! You made it! We were worried you got lost on your way here.”

You weren’t expecting to be face to chest with an individual. Their band's logo was printed across the front, red letters with a gold outline that clashed drastically with the bright orange fabric of the tight shirt. You tilted your head up, meeting cocoa brown eyes and a crisp white smile. His ginger hair was spread across his shoulders, his ear lobes were pierced with two shiny black flat stud earrings and the little white nostril piercing on the left side of his nose was reflecting the sunlight.

“Fred?” You asked, matching his smile. You could tell he had fun, you could sense it. His arm raised, inadvertently showing off his muscles, and rested against the door frame.

“The one and only.” He grinned, clearly just joking. Before he could say anything else, he was rudely interrupted by a foreign voice behind him. Fred’s smile dropped into a frown like he was suddenly slapped across the face.

“Is it the pizza guy?” The voice asked from somewhere behind him, excitement clearer than crystal. Fred looked over his shoulder to respond.

“No, Ron. That’s not for another twelve minutes.” He rolled his eyes after looking back at you and letting out a loud sigh. “I’m sorry about him. His appetite is larger than Big Ben and it literally never stops. Anyway, I hope you like pizza! I tried to message you about it.” He pulled his phone out of his front pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his messages and swiping right on notifications he didn’t care for.

“I was using my phone for GPS. Must’ve missed the messages.” Your hands slid into your front pockets, your weight shifting between your feet as embarrassment began to settle in. Maybe this wasn’t the best first impression. Before you could think about it too long, a low whistle was resonating from beside Fred.

Without warning, Fred was being nudged aside by a slightly shorter ginger, his piercing blue eyes staring into yours. They didn’t stay there very long though. They slowly dragged down your body, taking in your form, and his head tilted in appreciation.

“Oh.. I’m not gonna complain about the pizza when Merlin delivered us a cutie.” He gave you a dizzying side smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Surely, it’s something as handsome as you are.” Just as quickly as he appeared, Fred was pushing him back, faking a gag while driving the unnamed individual back with Fred’s hand against his forehead.

“Ew! Ron, down! Seriously? Keep your yap shut! He’s our new band manager and I’d actually like to keep this one, thank you.” Fred groaned, a sneer pulling at his lips. He blocked the smaller ginger from the door with his body before turning back to you with a sigh. “I’m sorry. He’s usually not like this. Usually he’s moping about his ex-” You could see Ron jumping behind Fred to get another look at you. The reaction had you snorting into your hands.

“Fred. Fred, move, mate. I wanna see ‘im again!” The ginger whined, tugging at his older brother's t-shirt. He was dodging around Fred’s constant moving hands to get one more peek at you.

Fred let out a groan, his head falling backwards in agony before letting out a loud “George, please help!”

“Wait! Wait, wait!” Ron’s voice matched the panicked hand trying to hold onto the door frame before it was hilariously slapped off the wood and was dragged into the mystery hidden behind the lead singer. His begs and pleas began to echo and soften which you thought caused you to giggle a bit.

“I’m sorry. We’ll put a muzzle on him or something. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Fred shifted out of the door way, allowing you to enter the hall. It was bigger on the inside than the outside, that much had you relieved. Fred shut the door behind you with a satisfying click and let you soak the place in while he sat himself down on a velvet red coach. It was dimly lit, about half the lights were on, and the walls were painted a light tan, which easily could’ve been mistaken for white, if white wasn’t used for the tiling.

Next to Fred on the couch, was a girl with long, slightly darker, ginger hair. Her hair went well past her shoulders, and a bright orange base sat on top of her crossed legs. She had gone back to laying a few chords once you entered, just relaxing as her two brothers basically wrestled each other.

“Ginny, this is (Y/n).” Fred spoke up, pointing from his sister to you, then back to her. (Y/n), this is the youngest Weasley in the family, Ginevra.” Fred smirked, but it turned into a pained expression when she landed a hard slap to his chest.

“Except if you call me that, I will break your legs. It’s Gin or Ginny, nothing else. It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/n). Fred hasn’t shut up about you.” She smiled at you, reaching a tattoo covered hand out to shake yours.

“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. You shook her hand proudly, knowing it was probably your reputation that kept the oldest Weasley in the band chatting up a storm. “It’s nice to meet you too, Gin.” You gave her a cheeky grin before turning to the other side of the hall, noting another Fred standing in front of Ron, who was sitting in a chair quiet grumpily.

The double picked up a deep red guitar covered in stickers and shoved it into Ron’s lap, causing the younger to gasp out a wheeze. It was obvious he had chewed Ron out for his behavior, but nevertheless, he gave his unplugged electric guitar a few strums, which seemed to satisfy Fred 2 because soon enough he was storming back to the couch, shaking his head the entire walk there.

He sat himself down on the arm of the couch, right next to his doppelganger. His arms crossed back over his chest once again. Fred 2 had the same length hair, different piercings though. He only had one set of black earrings, but had an industrial across his left ear. He had a straight line of freckles across his cheek bones and right across his nose. The spots went down his neck and across his forehead.

“He’s bloody useless.” He grumbled out, his snake bite moving to the right as his tongue ran across it. “Oh, hi!” Fred 2 scooted over to the edge of the arm rest, reaching his hand out to shake yours. “You must be the band manager! I’m George, Fred’s twin bro-”

“Younger twin. I’m the oldest.” Fred interrupted, smirking again as he pointed a thumb to himself. His smirk dropped when he was smacked in the chest again- by both George and Ginny.

“I’m his twin brother. Ignore him, he has a God complex.” George rolled his eyes, smiling at you while he shook your hand. He pulled his hand away before scooting back to rest his back against the back of the couch. You could tell he wasn’t comfortable, but he seemed dedicated to the spot. “I’m sorry you had to meet Ron the way you did. Usually he’s tamer than that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze turned down to your shoes. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up as his flirting rebounded through your head again.

“Nah, he wasn’t that bad.”

“I wasn’t?” Ron’s sudden voice behind you had nearly jumped out of your skin. You spun around, your backpack strings nearly catching on one of Ginny’s bass strings. You swallowed down a squeak. “Georgie was trying to convince me I was being inconsiderate and rude and that mum would smack me if she saw.” He was still holding the guitar by the neck, and that was when you noticed the bright gold strings with a red pick trapped between them.

“Well, it’s not like you were asking about my shoe size… “ Your eyes landed on the hands holding the black neck of the instrument and you couldn’t help but gawk at them. Rings covered his finger knuckles, veins popped out from beneath his skin. “Wow.” You didn’t mean to verbally gawk over the hands, so you had to force your gaze down to the instrument and ignore the urge to stare at the pale, freckle covered skin that was making your mouth dry.

You shook your head, looking at the shiny strings. You had you stop yourself from reaching out and caressing the polished neck, the textures strings and hidden pick. It was clearly loved and carefully taken care of.

“Beauty, isn't she?” Ron grinned, showing off the red body drowning in decals- most of which were bright orange Quidditch themed or terrible chess puns. You almost forgot to check if they were a muggle band, but this told you enough. “My best friend got it for me, he’s a blessing. Mum didn’t approve, of course, said we all had better purposes, but dad said rock on.”

“She really is. I’m guessing you named her?” The second the question fell from your lips, the three sharing a spot on the couch groaned in agony, but Ron was grinning in pride.

“Of course I have! Her name is Cherry Popper and she’s the love of my life. Unless,” Ron was taking a step closer to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he continued speaking, “you plan on cha-” His flirting was cut off suddenly.

“And that’s enough of that! Please sit down and, for the love of Merlin’s beard, rename the damn thing!” Ginny cried out, almost knocking her own instrument straight into the tiled floor. She ran a hand through her hair, her free hand holding the bass hard enough to make her knuckles pure white.

“I mean, come on! Name it something classic like ‘Bertha’ or ‘Jasmine’, or, and here’s my personal favorite, don’t name it at all!” Fred waved his hands while he spoke, counting the names on his fingers before doing jazz hands at ‘don’t name it at all’.

“Fred, that’s hypocritical. You named your mic.” George spoke up, pulling two white marble drumsticks from his jeans pockets and began to spin one between his fingers.

“That was a joke.” Fred stuck his tongue out at his twin. “At least I don’t do it seriously. And leave Echo out of this.” Fred ripped the non spinning drumstick from George’s hand, holding it out of his twins reach.

“Shut up and give me Crystal back!”

“No, if you wanna talk about terrible names, we can talk about the band's name! Merlin, Fred, were you sky high when you made it?” Ron shot back, his arms crossing over his chest, one still holding the guitar.

Knowing this kind of fight could go for a good while, you slipped past him, patting Ron on the shoulder while you walked past while a pained gasp rented the silence that flooded the hall. You set your backpack on the white table, opening the zipper and pulling out your laptop. You sat down, pulling the laptop onto your lap before opening the notepad application.

“I made the name! And dammit, I think it was clever! It even has a unique backstory! At our school, we had a um- small business and it was quite successful. By ‘we’, I mean George and I and by successful, I mean we run an online joke shop. I thought it fit the shop pretty well.” Fred held a look of pride- a smirk was, once again, drawn across his lips as his eyes twinkled.

“Mate, it’s horrible.” Ginny spoke up, not even bothering to throw the truth as a curve-ball causing two of her older brothers to nod in agreement. She copied Fred’s movement by yanking the drumstick from his hand, but handed it to George, smiling at him.

“Why couldn’t it have been something cool? You named your shop something cool. Why’d you give the band something’ shitty?” Ron rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the door, the guitar balancing on his sneakers and leaning against his ripped jean covered legs. His attention didn’t stay with his siblings for long. Soon it was shifting over to you, like he was naturally drawn toward you. He grinned at you, sticking his tongue out. The little gold ball stamped into the middle of his tongue had your full attention.

You swallowed thickly. The ball and his guitar strings were the exact same color and reflected the same light. You felt butterflies fill your stomach from the simple action and noticed, almost suddenly, the ginger was actually quite attractive and funny. You sucked on your tongue, hoping the blush across your cheeks didn’t give too much away. Ron looked back at his brothers, his side grin screaming he basically saw your body temperature rise.

“I was led to believe you all loved the name, but no! I’m starting to think you guys are just trying to embarrass me in front of the (Y/n), but since you think it’s so easy, come up with a new one.” Fred cried out, crossing his arms over the printed long sleeve t-shirt, and was pouting like a child now, sinking lower into the couch.

“It makes us sound like a cheesy boy-band going after 12 year olds.” Ginny scoffed, propping her bass up against the couch. She looked over at her slightly older brother, nodding her head in Fred’s direction.

“It does. We could’ve been Fire Wicks.” Ron pointed at Ginny and the teaming up began. “Or like Solar Skips.”

“Or The Red Bloods.” Gin nodded, pointing back at Ron while her other hand pulled out her phone. The game was ‘Who-Cares-If-It’s-Bad-Let’s-Prove-Fred-Wrong’ and you could tell it was for shits and giggles. You were going to pitch in an idea, but someone beat you to it.

“Or FireBolt Bitters.” Spoke up George, who was now gazing up at the ceiling, shaking his head in mock shame, but you could see the edges of his smile growing at the corners.

“Ooh, I love that one!” Ron leaned over, stretching his arm as far as it could to give George a high five, before turning to look at you. He grinned at your confused expression. “Are you writing these down?” He pointed at your computer before giving you a wink. The butterflies came back, doubled in strength, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You shook your head no, laughing louder when he waved his hands in a panicked manner. “Write them down, mate!”

You rolled your eyes, typing random shit down just to please the younger one. Your eyes trailed across the dumplings, noting three quarters of them were smiling. Fred’s crabby expression made it was clear he didn’t get picked on very often.

“Charlie texted saying ‘The Copper Horntails’ would’ve been better.” Ginny said, looking up from her phone. She dropped the phone onto her lap, wincing a tad when the device collided with the instrument on her lap. She quickly forgot the pain and leaned back, enjoying her brother's pain.

“You asked Charlie?!” Fred squealed loudly, his hands holding his head. Right beside Fred, George had begun to tap his sticks together, improvising a beat to go with the arguing.

“You know what? That’s a great idea! Let’s ask Percy next-” yelled Ron over Ginny’s laughter and Fred’s agonizing scream. His smirk only grew when Fred tossed his head back.

“Ok, damn! I get it! But I already made t-shirts so deal with it.”

“Fred, we have magic. We can always change the print.” George piped up, tapping the white wooden sticks against his thighs in some random pattern, his head nodding to a beat. He shrugged his shoulders, not focusing on his words all that much,

“George!” This time it was Fred’s turn to smack George in his chest. He glared at him before leaning over to whisper in his twin's ear. It was something you couldn’t make out, but you figured they were debating over your status. You rolled your eyes, reaching behind you.

With a clear of your throat, you gained their attention before pulling out your wand from your backpack. While waving it, you locked eyes with Ron, playfully chewing on your lip to try to hide your smile.

“But-” Fred scrambled to grab his phone. You knew he was going to pull up one of your profiles to show none of them mentioned magic or wizarding or anything.

“The quidditch stickers were a dead give away.” You pointed to Ron’s guitar with the tip of your wand before putting it back in your bag. “That, and the tiny blue car that somehow carried four band members, and all of their equipment even though, that should’ve been impossible. I do enjoy Firebolt Bitters, though.”

Your own smile grew when the siblings broke out into loud snorts and sniggers, save for Fred’s. Ron walked over to you, and you were sure his cheeks were hurting from how hard he was smiling. He laid his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he faced his band members.

“I like this one.”

A smile stretches across your face as your cheeks get warmer. Out of everything to come out of today, this was something even the strongest and most willed seer’s couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t even half past noon and you’d already started to develop a crush on a punk guitarist who shares a band with his siblings. You were clueless on how you were going to do your managing and keep it strictly platonic when he grinned at you like you were everything he wanted.

#Ron Weasley #ron weasley x male reader #ron weasley imagine #hp x male reader #x male reader #male reader #ron weasley smut #hp imagine #hp fic #punk!ron weasley

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earthlostgirl · 3 years

Note

#43. Giving them a piggy back ride

GIVING THEM A PIGGY BACK RIDE

GIVING THEM A PIGGY BACK RIDE OH MERCY

I hadn't forgotten about this one!

"Do you see the target?" asked Jet. The voice came over the wireless communicator in a crippled way.

The town plaza was crowded. The weather was hot and people were chatting and drinking in the shade of the huge oak trees that surrounded the place. The waiters at the snack bar were pouring cold drinks non-stop.

"Jet... Have you told Faye about the bounty?" Spike asked back.

"No," replied his friend.

"Well, she's here," he sighed, feeling the anger flowing through his veins. "Talking to Marcus."

Spike heard Jet curse. He moved to Faye in two long strides. The bounty was gone, and she smiled at the sight of him. Mockingly.

"What are you doing here?" The irritated, demanding tone in his voice made some in the crowd turn to look at him.

"Working," Faye replied. Her voice and gestures faked an innocence worthy of an award.

"The bounty is mine," he announced, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

"I didn't see your name on him," Faye knew perfectly well that this nonchalant tone frayed his nerves.

"Jet and I picked him," Spike insisted, trying to remain calm. Though he felt the vein in his forehead pounding.

"It's not my fault you left the web open in that guy's face. Nor that Ed told me where you were," using that same tone, Faye turned her back on him to look through the people.

"Don't you dare," Spike tried to use his scary voice. "You don't want to play this game," But it wasn't convincing.

Faye raised an eyebrow and stared into his eyes. She was having fun.

"What are you going to do, pee on him to mark your territory?" she said, with that challenging look and her wicked smile.

He listened Jet chuckle through the earpiece. Spike had completely forgotten he was listening to the whole conversation.

"Jet, please tell Faye she can't do that," he objected." It's our bounty."

"I'm not her father," Jet tried not to laugh, but he couldn't help it. "This isn't worth my time. I'm out."

Spike wanted to complain, but his friend was no longer listening.

Faye was still looking at him, waiting for his next move, when the bounty walked up to them with two glasses in hand.

"Here's your rum, Dianne," he said, offering her the drink. He glanced at Spike curiously, but didn't speak to him.

"Thank you very much, dear" Faye replied, putting a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. "Let's go, there's a lot of annoyance here."

She left him standing there, with the word in his mouth and anger running through his veins.

They walked into the crowd. If Faye thought she was going to win this game, she was sorely mistaken.

So he followed them. He saw how Faye threw away each and every drink Marcus gave her. He saw how she pretended to be amused by all his jokes. And how she danced for him.

He saw how Faye led him away from the crowd. They walked down a thin lane, lit by colorful lanterns hanging from the trees. Spike lost sight of them for a moment, as he tried to overtake them to secure his position.

And then reached the end of the road; an empty parking lot above the sea. The stairs to the beach were on the other side. But anyone could walk down the grassy hill that led down to the sand.

Spike saw her walking, with Marcus at her side. They stopped halfway down. Faye ran a hand through his hair and he grabbed her waist. Leaning down to kiss her. As soon as he closed his eyes, Faye's Glock was already on his forehead.

The guy was more confused than scared. He tried to run away, but Faye easily reduced him against one of the trees. She cuffed him and smiled in satisfaction as she lit a cigarette. Quick and efficient.

Now it was his turn to take action.

He blocked their path. Faye made an angry face and tried to pass anyway.

"He's mine," Spike signaled to Marcus, who looked at them stupefied.

"I captured him," Faye replied, shaking the bounty back and forth.

"I saw him first," he shouted, trying to get his hands on that idiot.

"If you want him, come and get it," she said, shoving the guy, who fell to the ground like a useless lump.

And she got on her guard. Defiant. With one leg forward and one of her fists in front of her face.

"So you want to dance a bit, huh?" he grinned and broke into semicircles around her. "Let's dance."

Faye rolled her eyes, following him with her gaze. She bit her lower lip, the smile still on her face. Spike called out to her with a wave of his hand.

Faye took a step toward him and threw a kick. He dodged quickly. This was going to be fun.

He hit her in the legs to knock her off balance, but failed. Faye smiled meanly and attacked him again. She hit him in the chest with a fist, and he tried to push her back. But Faye was as agile as a fawn.

Despite all her postures being wrong, he almost, almost, had a hard time dodging the blows she threw.

When she tried to punch him again. Spike grabbed her by the forearm and pulled her close to him.

"This is making me horny," he said, giving Faye the best of his smiles.

"Oh, I didn't know you were into slapping," she replied, letting go of him easily. "If you had told me, I would have spanked you before."

Spike burst out laughing. And when she moved to hit him, he grabbed her by the jacket. It was a corny trick. But he felt like kissing her.

"Are you seriously planning on kissing me when you're trying to steal my bounty?" she whispered, mere inches from his mouth. "Bad move, Spiegel."

She nudged him away from her. The ribbon holding back her hair was gone. And the bangs covered her eyes. She was fucking sexy. She shook out her hair and went at him again.

Spike blocked her kick with the forearm. And she ducked to dodge his arm. Punching him in the side. But that move left her other arm unprotected. Which Spike took advantage of to press it against Faye's back. Leaving her unable to move.

"Who made the bad move now, dear?" he chuckled as she struggled to get free of him.

"Shut up,"she muttered, while digging her heel into his foot.

He released her and Faye stopped to catch her breath. He did the same.

"That's not fair play," he rumbled, winking at her.

"Oh come on, Spike," Faye grinned, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. " Are you afraid of losing?."

"There's no way you can beat me," he replied, smiling back at her. Inviting her to attack him again.

It had gotten dark. They were still moving around the parking lot, lunging and dodging blows and kicks.

Even in the light of the streetlights, he could see her skin shining with sweat. He could grab Faye by the arms and kiss her. Though, her response would be a well-deserved slap.

Faye laughed when she managed to hit him a second time.

But again she left her guard uncovered and hit her with the shoulder. But he was so deep in the fight that was unable to control his strength.

Faye stumbled. A hint of fear flashed in her eyes. He tried to catch her before she fell, but didn't make it. And saw her tumble down the hill.

"Fuck," he gasped and hurried after her, reaching the beach almost before Faye did.

"Are you okay?" he asked, irritated by how worried his voice sounded.

Faye wasn't moving, Spike touched her shoulder, cautious. She lifted her head, her cheeks were red, and her hair was full of grass.

"Are you okay?" he reiterated, crouching down next to Faye and brushing the leaves out of her hair. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Only in my pride," she mumbled, shaking the sand out of her clothes.

"We have overreacted a little, didn't we?" Spike stood up nimbly and held out his hand to her.

"A little," Faye grumbled without replying to his gesture, trying to get to her feet.

A wince crossed her face. And she stayed sitting in the sand.

"I think I hurt my ankle," Faye complained.

"Come on up, I'll carry you," Spike said, offering her his back.

Faye hesitated for a second. But she slipped the arms around his neck. Spike stood up, holding her legs with the arms. He walked up the hill in silence. Faye patted his chest.

"The bounty has fled," she noted, pointing to the place where they'd left Marcus. "Too bad it was a good pair of handcuffs."

Spike didn't know what to say, so he kept walking taciturnly across the parking lot. Faye wrapped her arms around him and leaned against his head.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Spike murmured in barely a whisper.

"I know that."

Sometimes, most of the time, he was an idiot. Impulsive and reckless. He couldn't do that. What if Faye hit her head on a rock. Or something worse. Spike felt his throat go dry. He needed a cigarette, badly.

"Anyway... I shouldn't..."

"I had a good time, I needed something like that," she interrupted him, patting him on the face. "I needed an adrenaline rush. Blow off my frustration, I hoped Marcus might put up some fight, but he didn't. But you came to my rescue."

A soft chuckle escaped Faye lips. But she didn't add anything else. She broke away from him, and he felt her reaching into her shirt for something. Spike perceived her lighting a cigarette. The smell of tobacco made him salivate.

Faye brought the cigarette to his lips, trailing her fingers down his cheeks as she pulled away her hand. Spike closed his eyes, feeling the brush of the fingertips against his skin.

"Quite a rescue you got there," he whispered without opening his eyes.

"The one I needed," Faye laughed again, taking the cigarette from his mouth.

"I have to admit, it's been fun," he replied. "At least until I threw you down the hill."

"I'm not delicate," she replied, going back to sharing her tobacco with him.

"Yeah, whatever..." Spike kissed her fingertips before she withdrew her hand again. "Let's go home."

"Let's go home," Faye repeated, wrapping her arms around him and settling into his back.

#cowboy bepop #spaye #spike x faye #request #thanks for the request!#faye valentine #spike spiegel #fights are hard to write #I don't know how to fight #anyway #faye x spike #fanfic

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trashy-slashy · 4 years

Note

yooo do you write for soulmate AUs? because like... the sinclair brothers finding their soulmates and that's what spares them from getting killed tho

I have such a soft spot for Soulmate AU’s and for these boys! I’m so excited for this prompt ee

Bo heard stories as a child about soulmates. That touching the person who you were meant for would burn, a searing pain that would mark you both, sealing your fates together. He talked about it with Vincent, mulling over what sort of soulmate they would like. “You don’t get to pick” Vincent would grumble, earning himself a pout from his twin. “I know, I’m just wonderin’”. But then came dinner. Bo hid. He knew what his father would do. “There you are you lil’ fucker” He snarled, slamming open the closet door. Bo screamed, thrashing against his grip. “Stop it boy! It will only get worse!” The chair. The restraints. Tears flowed down Bo’s face, his mother tutting at his behaviour. “You are never gonna find a soulmate Bo, you’re a monster.”

Bo never thought about it after that. Never even the possibility. He was a monster. At least he had Vincent. Every hitchhiker he picked off the road made Ambrose a little less lonely, for a little while. Bo forgot how to feel human for a long time. He forgot how to feel anything. He supported and loved his brother, the way Mama used to, but his heart wasn’t in it. He chased and maimed his victims, hoping to feel something. Nothing worked.

When you showed up in Ambrose, Bo sighed. “Here we go again.” He threw his cigarette to the floor, crushing the flame with his heel. “Hey darlin’, you lost?” You smiled nervously at him. Bo smirked, running his fingers through his hair. This one would be too easy.

Bo toyed with you, letting you wear yourself out, darting all over Ambrose in an attempt to find help. He could have killed you hours ago, but chasing you was more interesting than doing nothing. “I’m not gonna hurt ya sweetheart” You had your back pressed against one of the buildings, wishing the wall would swallow you up. The sky had turned dark an hour or so ago, giving you some cover between the houses. You glanced around frantically, desperating trying to hear what direction your attacker was coming from.

Bo spotted you a while ago, but wandered past anyway, letting you think you were safe. It was always so much sweeter when they still had a fragment of hope. He heard you scuttle around the back of the house, sneaking around to cut you off. “Found you-“ Bo sprang at you, his fingers wrapping around your throat. As soon as he touched you he yelped, retracting to cradle his singed hand. “What the fuck did you do!?” He snarled, vein pulsing in his head. You froze entirely, a deer in the headlights. “I... you...” You began, the burning sensation dulling from where his hand had been. Bo grew angrier at your useless mutterings, producing a blade from his pocket to press it against your throat.

“You little...” The weapon clattered to the floor when the realisation hit him. It had been so long since he even thought about soulmates, he forgot they existed. His handprint marred your neck, claiming you as his own. “No, this ain’t right.” He shook his head in denial, backing out of the alley. “FUCK!” His fist collided with brick, busting open his knuckles. This was a cruel trick, probably Lester thinking it was hilarious to try and make him completely lose it. Yeah, that must be it. He had no soulmate. Just him and Vinnie. Bo turned back towards you, each breath racking his shoulders.

“I don’t think this was ideal for me either.” You laughed nervously, keeping stock of the situation. Bo was deathly still. Feeling a little braver, you shuffled towards him. “You’re fake.” He barked defensively. Your heart went out to your soulmate, watching the torment flash across his eyes, every muscle in his body pulled tight, ready to run. You were close enough to feel his breath on your face. Something ethereal tugged at your hands, the appendages moving of their own volition. “Am I?” Without thinking, your fingers wound around his wrists, biting your lip as fire scorched your palms. You expected him to lash out, not let you burn your marks into his skin. The flesh felt mottled under your touch, reforming and melding around your palms. Bo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, suddenly exhausted from his outburst, every bolted down emotion bubbling out of control. You smiled as his chin rested on your head. “Bo.” He muttered into your hair. Bo was terrified, but damn it if he didn’t want to stay like this a little longer.

Vincent

Soulmates were just something that happened. Not to Vincent, but to normal people. He never brought it up, knowing that Bo had bad memories surrounding the concept. He’d had to kick Lester a few times for not shutting up about the pretty girls on the highway. Vincent always hoped he had some chance, but between his deformities and lifestyle it wasn’t really possible. Instead he threw himself into his art, doodling ideas of what his soulmate would look like, staring into the eyes of his sculptures. ‘It could have been you’.

There hadn’t been any reports of people touching their soulmates after they died. It wasn’t really a common occurence after all. Everytime Bo threw him a fresh body, Vincent was always hesitant to touch them. His brother had forgotten, but he hadn’t. As he grew lonelier, Vincent found himself spilling hot wax on himself, relishing the sting, wishing he could feel it on someone else’s skin.

“Vinnie, I got two, give me a hand would ya’?” Bo poked his head around the corner, disturbing Vincent’s concentration. He jerked his head in response. Vincent knew the drill. Bo would go, act charming, lure their prey into the house... so they could recreate Mama’s vision. Waiting patiently, Vincent patrolled his underground cavern, listening for his cue to strike.

You tumbled down the trapdoor, howling when you landed on your leg unnaturally, the sound of bones snapping reverberated off the walls “Please, stop!” Vincent had chased you through the house, dropping down after you. He sighed at the state of your leg; an extra job before he could turn you into a beautiful model. You sobbed pitifully, clutching at your thigh. Vincent lifted you up effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder. You thrashed pointlessly, whimpering as each step sent a jolt of pain down your leg. “Please...” Your back connected with what seemed like a medical bench as the masked man manhandled you as he pleased. You gulped. There was no escape with your injury. Shears glided towards your throat, your shirt falling to ribbons below you. Vincent retrieved a large syringe, splaying his hand on your stomach to steady you.

His skin was on fire. Surely his imagination? Vincent recoiled, eye blowing wide as he saw the perfect indentation of his hand on your belly. It couldn’t be... You gasped at the sensation, propping yourself up to check the mark. “We’re... soulmates?” Vincent stepped back from you, trembling. He didn’t expect it to ever happen. And now that it was... he panicked. You wouldn’t love him, you’d just been fleeing in terror, you’d broken your fucking leg trying to get away from him. Bo wouldn’t let you stay, he didn’t believe in soulmates after all. Maybe he could fix this, salvage it. He had to try.

Vincent dropped the serum on the side, dropping to his knees beside you. If he ever had a reason to be alive, you were it. But what about his face? You would surely be horrified. “I’m sorry” He wheezed, looking down at the floor. Death would surely be preferable to a lifetime with him. “Can I see?” You gestured to his mask, curious to see your soulmates real face. Something pulled you to this place, and yes, being shit scared and breaking your leg wasn’t ideal but damned if you didn’t trust in the soulmate system. There was a reason you two were connected and despite everything, you weren’t going to throw that away.

Vincent hated taking off his mask. Even around Bo. He saw the side glances, the looks of disgust. His twin loved him, but that didn’t make him any less of a freak. But the way you looked at him, your eyes so warm and kind. He sighed, avoiding your gaze as he freed himself from the wax barricade.

He waited for you to scream, to gasp, something that proved how repulsive he was. What he didn’t expect was your palms cupping his cheeks ever so gently, the invisible flames licking at scarred flesh. You whimpered at the burning in your hands, blood running down your chin as your teeth sunk into your lip. Vincent pressed his head against yours, fingers weaving into your hair to lock you against him. You were real. You were his. And he’d never been happier.

Lester

The most optimisitic of all the Sinclair’s, Lester had a bad habit of trying to touch literally everyone. Everything he knew was from magazine’s he’d ransackes from the twins’ victims, considering that Bo wasn’t a believer and Vinnie wasn’t much for conversation.

When he found you trawling the highway, Lester jovially offered you a lift to Ambrose. “Ma brother’s got a phone you can use I bet” He beamed, chatting away as he took you down the beaten path. “What brings you out here then Missy?” You sighed. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant topic and you didn’t really want to bother him with your worries.

“Almost there, d’ya mind givin’ me a hand?” You bent over the hub of the truck, unaware of Lester oogling at your ass. He smirked to himself, trying to subtly brush against you and failing, horribly. “Hey, asshole!” Your hand connected with his face, the crack reverberating through the trees. Your hand turned to fire in your hands, clutching at it pointlessly to try and stifle the pain.

“I was only tryna-“ Lester turned into a puppy when he saw your hand burning, the initial sting of the slap turning into the warm sensation of a soulmate’s mark. “You’re my soulmate!” He jumped on the spot, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “I knew it, I knew I had one!” You groaned underneath him. This was going to be exhausting. “Ma name’s Lester, you gotta come meet ma brother’s Bo and Vinnie-“ He trailed off when he saw you leaning against the car, your arms crossed. “Oh I’m sorry darlin’ I get a bit excited”

“I can see that.” You giggled, running your eyes up and down him. “Why’d I have to get some nasty pervert though?” Lester pouted like a child until he realised you were being sarcastic. “Oh real funny, I was gonna give you the world but I guess I’ll keep it to myself now” Despite the gruff demanour and constant waft of roadkill, you could tell he was an absolute sweetheart. You extended your hand towards him, waggling your fingers. He entwined his hand with yours grunting at the foreign sensation. You pressed a kiss to Lester’s cheek, squeezing his hand. “Now that’s simply not true, is it?”

#bo sinclair #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #soulmate au #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #can you tell im a total simp for bo #he would be SO smug having his mark on your neck #and i’m cracking up at lester having a permenant bitchslap

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btxtreads · 4 years

Text

📼 d r a m a 📼

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

↳ Pairing: Choi Soobin x Reader

↳ word count: 1.7k words

↳ rating: PG

↳ genre: fluff, this is so cheesy and cliche hhhhhh but its meant to be like that, once again i want beomgyu and taehyun to be my friends

a/n: anon from a few hours ago was right but also askjdsajkshajsa this is so cheesy??????????? :((((((((((((((((( im so adsjnjadsjhsadhjsad

Beomgyu’s knuckles pounded on the door, screaming.

Beside him stood Taehyun, his hands in his pockets and eyes incredulously boring onto his best friend with confusion.

Beomgyu continued screaming, his hand still rapping on the door.

“Beomgyu, shut up!”

“Oh, Y/N, you’re still alive,” Beomgyu replied, stopping his screaming. “Y/N, come out and eat lunch with us!”

Behind Taehyun and Beomgyu was one of the boys’ maids, dusting the photo frames in hallway.

Taehyun shot an apologetic look at the older woman, who only smiled.

If the woman was weirded out, it wasn’t apparent as she continued on her way.

Taehyun looked back at Beomgyu who started screaming again, knocking on the door.

His phone pinged with a text.

Choi Soobin: hi taehyun, im on my way. can you keep beomgyu occupied for a while?

Taehyun cleared his throat.

“Hey, gyuu?”

Beomgyu stopped, turning back to him.

“What’s up?”

“Maybe she’ll come out if we make her favorite food ourselves?” Taehyun suggested, wincing when she remembered how useless both of them were at cooking.

That’s why the only home-cooked food they ate was Y/N’s and made by Beomgyu’s on-call chef.

Despite this, Beomgyu gasped.

“Yes, let’s make Y/N’s favorite food!” Beomgyu nodded enthusiastically, knocking on the door once more. “Taehyun and I will make Carbonara for you!”

Taehyun winced as he was dragged to the kitchens, pulling his phone out to send a quick text.

Taehyun: beomgyu and i are going to be in the kitchens. i told the guards you were coming.

Choi Soobin: thank you. im here.

Y/N laid face-down on the bed, snapping up when she hear Beomgyu scream something concerning.

“Taehyun and I will make Carbonara for you!”

This was followed by a loud pitter-patter of footsteps fading away.

“Wait, no!”

Y/N gasped, falling off the bed.

Beomgyu and Taehyun can’t cook to save their lives.

“Guys, you’ll burn the house down!” Y/N squeaked from her position on the ground.

As soon as she sat up, she heard loud tapping on her window.

She turned to see pebbles hitting her window, which faced the garden.

“Who the hell—“ Y/N muttered under her breath, nearing the window to see a figure downstairs.

“Soobin?”

The said boy poked his tongue out as he picked up pebbles from the ground, cradling it in his arms and aiming to shoot it towards the window.

Y/N glared as she opened her window, making the boy gasp and smile.

“Y/N!”

“What the fuck are you doing to this window, you delinquent?”

Despite her harsh tone and words, Soobin shot her a bright smile.

“I found you.”

Y/N froze, his words sounding familiar.

Her grip tightened on the window sill, training her eyes up to the sky.

Soobin’s eyes softened as he gazed at the girl, who still looked perfect in his eyes.

She was decked in a loose white sweater that he recognized as Beomgyu’s, her hair was down in waves and her face bare of any make-up.

The girl ran a hand through her hair, clearing her throat as she looked back at the boy.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. “How did you find me?”

Soobin only shrugged, smiling.

“Does Beomgyu even know you’re here?”

He shook his head no.

“Please don’t tell him,”

Y/N pursed her lips, looking down.

“Soobin, you should go,”

Once again, he shook his head no and looked around.

“Ah, there’s no tree,” Soobin sighed, looking back up at the girl. “Can you come down?”

Y/N frowned, looking at the boy with a sigh.

“Y/N,” he called, looking at the girl with pleading eyes. “Please. Come down.”

The girl bit her lip and closed her window sill.

“Y/N?” Beomgyu gasped as Y/N passed by the kitchen on her way to the living room.

She shot him a quick look, opening the door to exit the house.

Taehyun grasped Beomgyu’s arm as he made a move to follow her, shaking his head and dragging him up the second floor.

Y/N slowly made her way to the garden, to see Soobin.

He stood there, perfect and proper—not a single strand of hair out of place.

He smiled, stretching a bouquet of white roses towards her.

“I remembered how you told me that you found white roses prettier than red ones,” Soobin explained as Y/N gingerly took the bouquet.

“Soobin, look,” Y/N sighed. “I understand, I got the message,”

“Huh?” Soobin frowned.

Y/N looked back up at him.

“You don’t have to apologize, or let me down properly. I understood very well,” Y/N smiled sadly and turned to leave. “Thank you for trying to apologize, anyway.”

Soobin sighed, looking up at the sky and pocketing his hands.

He cleared his throat.

“Can you imagine? What would happen if we could have any dream?”

Y/N stopped in her tracks.

Soobin’s soft voice continued.

“I wish this moment was ours to own it, and that it would never leave,”

Y/N slowly turned, looking back at the boy.

He smiled softly at her, fidgeting in his place.

“Then I would thank that star that made our wish come true,”

Y/N stayed still as Soobin made his way closer, his hand reaching out to take hers.

She was dead silent, making Soobin sigh in nervousness before continuing.

“Cause he knows that where you are is where I should be, too,”

Y/N looked at his eyes, her eyebrows furrowed as she observed him.

Suddenly, the sprinklers and the spotlights opened.

The speakers Beomgyu installed in the gardens, which Y/N always scolded him for because it was unnecessary, found its purpose as it blasted music that Soobin sang along to.

“Right Here, Right Now,”

Soobin’s hand found Y/N’s chin, lifting it up as water rained down on them.

He smiled delicately as tears filled Y/N’s eyes.

“I’m looking at you, and my heart loves the view.

Cause you mean everything.”

Y/N softly laughed in embarrassment, wiping tears and the raining water off her face.

“This is so cheesy,” She commented as Soobin smiled and continued.

“Right here, I promise you somehow,”

Soobin leaned his forehead on hers and intertwined their hands, closing his eyes.

“That tomorrow can wait for some other day to be,

But right now, there’s you and me,”

He opened his eyes, and smiled at Y/N as the music continued.

“I’m not gonna sing,” Y/N said. “I’m still mad at you,”

“I know,” Soobin said, moving his hands to her waist. “and I’m sorry,”

Y/N lowered her eyes.

“Chaewon, she’s—“

“Sure, I love her, but not like you think,” Soobin said, kissing her wet hair as the sprinklers continued to soak them. “Y/N, it’s you. I’m in love with you,”

Y/N slowly pulled away and looked back up at Soobin.

“Huh?”

He smiled delicately, looking down at the girl of his dreams.

“I told her that,” Soobin said, tucking a lock of wet hair behind her ear. “that I’m in love with you. That I’m so in love with you that losing you means losing my mind,”

Y/N blinked in surprise.

“Y/N, you were the best thing has ever happened to me,” Soobin explained. “And if you don’t believe me, I’d gladly show you everything me and Chaewon talked about. I would do anything you want to make it up to you, just—please,”

Y/N bit her lip as Soobin tightened his grip on her.

“Please, just don’t leave me alone,” Soobin whispered.

“Soobin,” Y/N started as Soobin looked down at her, loving eyes soft and anxious.

It was almost like he was gearing up for rejection.

Y/N reached her hands up to run through his hair and cup his face.

“The time I spent away from you made me lose my shit and realize that I was way worse without you than I was without her,” Soobin confessed. “I can’t forgive myself if I didn’t try, Y/N. You were something I can’t give up,”

Y/N chuckled through the newly formed tears in her eyes.

“You’re so corny,” Y/N commented before pulling him down to meet his lips with hers.

It was almost like the sprinklers rained water harder on them as they kissed.

It was smooth, passionate—no fireworks, not even sparks.

Just Soobin.

She couldn’t feel anything but him as she clutched tighter on Soobin, his hands pulling her closer to him—afraid to let go as if she was going to fade away.

Y/N pulled away and brushed the wet hair sticking to his forehead.

“I love you,”

Soobin laughed, picking her up and twirling her around.

Y/N shrieked in surprise, holding onto his shoulders.

“Soobin, Soobin, what the fuck!” She shrieked as Soobin laughed loudly.

“Fuck,” Soobin muttered as he set her down. “I’m so happy,”

Y/N smiled as he leaned back down to plant another kiss on her lips.

She giggled through the kiss as she reciprocated, Soobin picking her up again to twirl her with their lips connected.

Y/N smiled as he pulled away, forehead still connected to his.

“By the way, how did you pull this off?”

Soobin looked up at the second floor, smiling as he spotted two figures by the window sill.

“Over there,” He pointed.

Y/N turned and gasped.

With narrowed eyes, Beomgyu stood by the window with the sprinklers’ remote in his hands.

Taehyun bounced in his place as he waved a phone—the bright red album cover of High School Musical visibly playing.

Beomgyu mimed gagging, his loud fake vomit sounds audible as Taehyun screamed “You guys are disgusting,” from their spot.

Beomgyu cranked the sprinkler levels higher as Y/N laughed, leaning her head on Soobin’s chest.

Soobin only laughed, clutching her tight to him.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Y/N pulled away and looked back up at him, her hand brushing his wet hair.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

Soobin smiled, leaning back down and crashing his lips on hers once again—the music still steadily playing at the background alone with Taehyun and Beomgyu’s noises.

Tomorrow can wait,

for some other day to be.

But right now there’s you and me

SAJHDJSDAJKKDHJSKJASDKJSADKJASJKKJASDJHJSAHDHSAJJHADS

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iforgotmypreviousaccountlol · 4 years

Text

Chat: Lemme See Your Homework!

This is based on the chat “Lemme See Your Homework” from Mammon on day 4. <3

I’m in the library in the House of Lamentation when a chat box popped on my phone.

Mammoney: Hey, MC, lemme see your Devildom Law homework, would ya?

Mammoney: You know, the one with the warnings about contracts, and the examples of how to deal with any problems that may come up durin’ ‘em!

I finished that homework last night and spent a good chunk of my time researching for it. I had a hard time with it because it’s not like I had courses like that back in the human world, unlike Mathematics or Science. I actually had to borrow a Latin Dictionary from Satan to answer some of the questions.

While I stayed up until dawn, Mammon went off to devil-knows-where right after dinner. He didn’t even answer his phone when I tried to call him. I had to ask his brothers if they’d seen him and Beel said he saw him dash off the house when Lucifer left for Diavolo’s office.

I typed in a reply.

Me:

A chat bubble appeared.

Mammoney: Please, you gotta help me, MC!

Mammoney: If I don’t turn it in by today, Teach’s gonna fail me—hold me back a year for my own good or some crap like that.

Mammoney: Where are you anyway?

I didn’t reply. Hah. Let him roam around the house and try to find me. My phone chimed.

Mammoney: Never mind, Asmo said he saw you enter the library.

Mammoney: My back’s against the wall, here. So I’m headin’ over right now to copy your homework.

Mammoney: You’d better not go snitchin’ to Lucifer!

Mammoney: Promise me, MC!

Mammoney: <Sticker – flying kiss>

Ugh, Asmodeus!!!

I put down my phone and concentrated on my work. I still have to copy and memorize the compounds needed to transmute chalk into a metal. Not that I could do it, but still, my curriculum included Alchemy in it. I don’t even know how it will be useful to me. This feels like studying Algebra, I’m always left wondering when I will ever use it in real life.

The door opened and from the corner of my eye, I saw Mammon’s head pop in. He looked around and when he saw me, he entered and closed the door behind him.

He took the seat in front of me. I didn’t look at him and continued writing. Mammon slumped on the table and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Ya gotta work with me here, MC!!! I can’t fail a subject. Lucifer’ll kill me!”

He put his palm together and closed an eye. “Please!”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why do you even have to study and go to school? Aren’t you like, I don’t know, thousands of years old or something?”

“I know, right! Studying and goin’ to class is useless, that’s what I kept telling ‘em but they don’t listen! I don’t know why, it has somethin’ to do with coping with changin’ times and all that.”

“What?”

“Don’t ask me anymore about it. Ask someone else. I don’t agree with it in the first place!”

I finished writing and put down my pen. I crossed my arms and stretched my neck. “Ahhh, my shoulders hurt from hunching in a desk too much…”

He stood up and rushed behind me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and started massaging them. “Where? Here? Lemme rub it for you, MC.”

“Wow, you’re really desperate, huh?”

“I am!”

I signaled him to pause and tied my in a low ponytail. He resumed with the massage. Without my hair in the way, I felt Mammon’s hands directly rubbing against my shoulders. I was still in my house clothes so I was just wearing a tank top paired with sweatpants.

His hands stopped massaging my shoulders. I looked back and saw him staring.

“Why’d you stop?” I asked.

“Wh… huh?” He quickly removed his hands and sat back.

“Hey! I was just starting to relax! Give me some more massages.”

“Enough, I have to copy you homework, don’t I?”

I pouted at him but he can’t look straight at me. His ears are also a bit red. I extended my homework, “Fine, here!” He was about to grab it but I pulled it away.

“What now, MC?”

“Help me with dinner later, I’ll let you copy.”

Wednesdays and weekends are usually help yourself days in the House of Lamentation. We usually have cooks to prepare the meals and we just help with the cleaning and setting the table. But on Wednesdays, Saturday and Sunday, we have to cook our own meals. One person is assigned for breakfast and another for dinner, almost no one eats lunch here in the dorms anyway so there’s no need to assign someone to cook. The assignment is done in rotation.

Beel usually helps me in cooking when it’s my turn, but he eats the ingredients before I even cook them so I stopped asking him for help.

“Okay, deal! Now lemme see your homework.”

I gave it to him and he proceeded to copy it. He hummed while writing.

“Change it up a little, Mammon! Don’t be too obvious.”

“All right, all right. I’ll even miss some questions so we don’t get the same score.”

I rested my chin my arm on the table and watched him write.

“Why’re ya staring at me, MC?”

“Hmm?”

“I said s-s-top staring at m-me.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Yes, you are! It’s makin’ me real uncomfortable!” He placed his non-writing hand over my eyes.

I swatted it away. “Fine.”

I played with my phone and felt my eyelids grow heavy…

I awoke with the sensation of someone touching my ear. My cracked my eyes open. Mammon was seating beside me, trailing soft touches on my face.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled, voice raspy from sleep.

Mammon jumped back and pulled his hand away. He turned his head away. “You’re drooling!”

I raised my head and swiped at my cheek, “No, I’m not!”

“Tch. Whatever, we’re gonna be late if ya don’t get your ass up and change right now!”

I rubbed my eyes. He gathered my things and his and lazily dragged me to my room. He closed the door and yelled for me to get changed.

I languidly put on my uniform. I was in the middle of fixing my hair in a braid when the door opened.

“You done?” Mammon said.

“Yeah, just a sec.” I glanced at him then went back to braiding my hair.

He entered my room and stood beside me. He has his hands in his pockets and was whistling a tune.

“What?” I asked.

“Hurry up! I’m hungry! Treat me to lunch. I’m cravin’ some hell sauce ramen from Hell’s Kitchen.”

“I don’t have money!”

“Then… I’ll treat you.” He muttered.

“Oooh that’s rare! Okay, I’m almost done!” I grinned.

“Don’t look so happy! You face is givin’ me the creepers!” He fake shivered. He walked out the door, and yelled, “I’ll wait for you at the gate!”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Later that night, Mammon and I brought the ingredients we needed for tonight’s dinner on the kitchen. We had the ingredients delivered to the House because we didn’t have enough time to run to the grocery.

We decided to cook curry, since it’s easy to make and we can do large servings at once considering half of it would easily go to Beel’s black hole of a stomach.

I grabbed a cookbook from one of the drawers and placed it in a book stand.

“All right, let’s do this. Take out the potatoes and carrots, wash them and peel half, I’ll do the other half.”

“Man, this is heavy!” He said while he hauled the sack of potatoes. He did what he was told.

I started on chopping up the onions.

“Here, done!” Mammon said and placed a basin containing the potatoes in front of me.

“That was suspiciously fast—” I looked at his work. I slammed the knife on the chopping board. “Mammon!!!!!”

“What is it?! Why’re ya yellin’?”

“You peeled the potatoes halfway!”

“You said to peel half! I did what ya said! I don’t get what’re ya getting’ upset for.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“Mammoooooon! I meant half of them! Like half the numbers! Not literally just half of each potato!!!” I yelled.

He laughed and ran to the other side of the kitchen island. I chased him and tripped on the sack of carrots.

He laughed harder. I felt blood rush to my face. I grabbed some carrots and threw it at his face. He was able to dodge the first batch but I was ready for the next throw and caught him off guard.

Mammon grabbed a colander and used it as a shield.

I stood up, grabbed a spatula and started attacking him. He snatched a wooden spoon and the whole thing soon ensued into a full on sword fight with kitchen utensils.

“You dare fight me, mortal?” Mammon declared in a low voice.

“Today, in the bleak mid-winter, you’ll face a fate worse than death.” I avowed. I assumed a stance and landed a strike.

“Winter ain’t even started yet!”

He was laughing while trying to parry my strikes and in the middle of it, I started to laugh too because of the ridiculousness of it all.

Our legendary sword fight ended sans victor when Lucifer arrived and chased us both out of the kitchen, which now looked like a battlefield strewn with curry ingredients.

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfic #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me x mc #obey me x reader

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iffyswriting · 4 years

Text

ICE 1 prt. 2

Note: Chile my bumass might as well finish this on Tumblr. 🥴

People say it's hard to be a good person and much easier to be a bad one. I'm inclined to find it true.

Looking from side to side I made my way towards my car and turned my music up louder, hoping it could drown out the thoughts beginning to cloud my mind. It didn't work, my brain always winning out when I started to think.

Trying to do something better with yourself and putting effort into turning a new leaf is like a double-sided coin, you don't get the perks or the praise you want right off the bat. Especially for just attempting.

When you've got no moral compass it's easier to be selfish and easy to deal out your own version of justice. Growing up I found that admirable and I modeled myself after that mindset. It's affected my mental health worse than expected and as I get older I realize I need to change.

If I want any chance at some peace of mind, I need as many changes I can get and do.

Every day I'm trying to do better and even then it doesn't seem like enough. I don't want to give up because you've got to take slow steps in any journey.

The cleansing of a conscious is a process and this new process is going to be long-winded.

I parked my car by the railroad tracks, looking over at the house my presence would disappear from. Many called it the trap but I'm calling it the past I rounded up a bag from the back and checked it's contents, sighing at all I was leaving behind me.

"Miro!" Quint called out to me, bringing attention to himself. I could see from the porch, his arms were outstretched a goofy-ass smile on his face.

"Are you fucking high?"

"Nah, but I plan too. Stick around long enough, I'll let you get a hit."

"Man getcha ass back in the house."

Walking through each room that looked just as unassuming on the inside as it did on the out. Careful planning and rearranging kept everything lowkey and mundane. If you're gonna deal drugs, don't have your product or evidence spread out everywhere.

People talk too much.

Walking into the back office, I stared at my life-long friend knowing that after this our friendship wouldn't be the same. It was something I was coming to accept.

"Kirk."

"Mir." He looked up from his numbers, his facial expression stoic."I expected a warmer welcome with you walking into my house and shit."

"This isn't a friendly visit. You know that."

"I feel like you been avoiding me- so I at least expect you to fake a cordial attitude." Kirk was always about how he felt and even if it wasn't true if he felt that way, then it was good enough truth for him.

"If I wanted to speak, we'd been have had a conversation." Placing the bag onto his desk, I stood back a bit watching as he opened it, gazing at its inside."I'm just tryna wrap up any more loose ends."

"Yeah, yeah whatever nigga."

"You always hostile anyway, Kirk." I joked, letting my guard down finally.

"Nah, I get mistaken for that because of the voice. I'm as peaceful as they come-" He joked back with a smirk, stacking his money together. He placed a band over it and threw it into a ziplock bag, to freeze later.

"Walk with me while we talk." We went to a further backroom, and I looked at the boys he had under his belt working and getting his money together. He claimed it to be giving out opportunities but I saw it as sending out more toxicity.

Kirkland swiped at his nose, browsing over his workers."You got a plan after this?

"Always do."

"Didn't expect nothing less." Two were snickering about something, and I twitched at wanting to reprimand them. Wasn't my place anymore.

"I thought I fucking told yo ass to keep your eyes on those fucking numbers! You got ADD or something?! Can't focus on one thing!?" He snapped at one of them, fear jutting out of them as they moved fast back to their original task.

"And you say you're peaceful." Kirk shook his head, rubbing the space between his eyes- stress underlying them.

"And then I said as they come." He took a brush out of his pocket and began to brush his hair distracting his brain. "I'ma honestly miss your presence Mir."

"You keep shit in line- that's why I made you my right hand."

"I'm just organized. You can find another nigga just as good as me." I wove off, my decision was stagnant.

"We both know that's not true but that's okay because figuring shit out on my own is my specialty."

"If you'd listen you wouldn't have to figure out anything."

"Now, that's a lie." He said a ghost of a laugh coming out.

"At least won't have to figure out shit detrimental to your life."

"You know as much as I do this life only leads to two outcomes, Death or Jail." I started to rant, my blood pumping in my veins. "If we've got fucking brains then there is no reason for us to continue to do this stupid shit when we could be trying to make something of ourselves!"

"Don't come in here acting all high and mighty, when just a couple of months ago you were doing this same shit! You've never been a hypocrite don't start now."

"I ain't being a hypocrite-"

"Easy money is easy money." He spoke cutting me off. "And with the dirt you've got piled up around here, I ain't expect you to leave so early. All the shit we had planned, mean nothing to you?"

"It means nothing to me now because it isn't the direction I want anymore." I pointed at him than myself. "I'm not getting any younger and neither are you."

"We aren't even business associates anymore, so this conversation is useless."

"Kirk."

"What the fuck, I just say!?" He responded his chest puffing up. I clenched my jaw and my fists, counting in my head to control my anger, I didn't come here to fight with him I came to finish everything.

"Fine."

"When shit gets tough, don't forget you always got a place back here." He said ultimately, that look in his eyes all too familiar. He was persuasive and good with his words, but his charisma wouldn't keep me stuck in the quicksand. I refused to be pulled back in, no matter how bad shit gets.

"I won't be back. " I said sternly, looking him in his eye as he continued to smirk unfazed by my words.

"Sure." He became genuine holding out his hand for a dap. " Make sure you speak when you see me."

"I will ." Kirk was like a brother to me, the same way I view Quintin but if I have to choose between my soul and their brotherhood, my soul is sliding across the finish line easily. If I don't have my heart, then how am I gonna help them eventually?

"Gone so soon?" Quintin asked, sparking his lighter as he lit a blunt. His eyes were empty as he scanned his surroundings, searching for something I didn't see was there.

"Yeah, there's no more ties between us."

"That easy?"

"It never is but it's good enough for now."

"Tell Tilo, I said wassup."

"You can tell him yourself when you come by the house."

"Nah, gon' be too busy." His eyes were hazed over now but still empty as he gave me a slick smile, his head falling back.

"You want a hit?" I felt tempted but I still had more things to do.

"Next time I see you, remember this turn."

"I will." I dapped him up and walked towards my car. I placed a hand on my door, standing still in place. I can't turn back because it'd be like turning back on my mother. On all her dreams and wishes for me, I can't keep living with myself if I do that.

I have to move forward and I have to do better. I gotta trust in my process because it's all I got to believe in.

@bakarilennox @domdollass @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @chaneajoyyy

#ice skating #icefiction #ice itsiffysworld #Trevante Rhodes #fanfiction #black love #black people

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im-hqlover · 4 years

Text

Welcome to a new world

A/N - Hey guys, one more chapter of these fanfic. I was very inspired to continue this story, so I think it came faster. I hope you like it, because I'm finding it interesting to write this to be honest. So enjoy!

Warning: Some sad/anxious thoughts, maybe life risk? and probably English errors.

Y/n = Your name

Word Count: 1939

First Chapter

Y/N's INFO:

Gender: Cis-Female

Sexuality: Straight

Height: Short

Weight: Not Defined

Skin Color: Not Defined

Hair Color: Not Defined

Eyes Color: Not Defined

Other details? No

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I had my eyes closed, and feeling that I was lying on a strange surface, I was not yet fully aware of what was happening, but I hear a voice, the same voice on the radio, he said:

"Hey milady, you don't look so good, but don't worry about me, I'm not the bad guy here, the ones you should be careful with are the monsters and don't starve, and as I'm a nice guy, I'll give you some little things."

I couldn't quite understand what he said, but when I woke up and regained my consciousness, I remembered him saying something about monsters and not starving. I sit and look around me, I was in a forest, but I was sure it wasn't the same forest I was in before, it was different. I got a fright when I hear the sound of something breaking, and when I look in the direction of the sound, I see something very bizarre, it was a rabbit, but an unusual rabbit.

- What. the. fuck. is. that. - It seems that I scared the rabbit when I said it out loud, because it ran away soon after.

I try to get up from there, even though I almost fell at first, I managed to keep my balance, I reach for my backpack that was on the floor and look inside.

I still had my water bottle, notepad, pencil, eraser, pen, which I always left in that backpack, because, you never know when you'll need to write something down, there was my sweatshirt jacket, my cell phone, the power bank that I had put in if the battery had run out while I was venturing into the forest, and there was a lighter too, which I was sure wasn't there before, because I never use a lighter, and there was a pocket knife too, which along with the lighter, wasn't there before.

I'm glad I always took some things with me, and I'm glad... those things came out of nowhere too? Well, it doesn't matter, it could be useful. Wherever I was, that is certainly not my city, in fact, no part of planet Earth to be honest. And my god, was this real? Was that possible? Or was that a dream? or was I hallucinating?

I was sure it was real and not a dream. Were my medications doing this? Because since I started taking them again, this madness started. But... it didn't make sense. So would that be another universe or something like this?

There was no time to think about it, I had to do something, I had to go home somehow and I had to survive in that weird place. If a rabbit already looked frightening here, imagine the other animals? I just know that maybe I won't be able to survive for long, because I never knew many things about how to survive.

Come on y/n, think, remember those rare episodes that you watched from those series that people had to survive. Okay, that could be fake, and they had a team, if something went wrong they are likely to be saved, already here, I don't even know if there is another human here.

Now I don't even know what would kill me before, my thoughts, hunger, for some animal, or just for my incompetence of survival.

But I had to stop, I had to take a deep breath and think, I had to find some source of water first, since a human can live much longer without food than without water, and even if I had a bottle of water that would certainly not be enough, it helped, but not for long. I could hear the sound of water in the distance and I followed this sound, until I could find a river, it was good that I stay there for a while or follow the course of the river so I wouldn't lose it.

When I got there, I don't know how long I was unconscious, but if the days are the same, then it should be noon now, or a little later than that.

I take the backpack off my back and take out my cell phone, and of course, there was no signal, no internet, and the battery was already at 60%, I turn it off, because maybe the battery would last some time longer, actually, I don't even know if I would use my cell phone, because without a signal for connection and without internet, it was useless, just maybe I could use it as a flashlight. I put the phone back in the backpack and grab my notepad and pen, and on a blank page I put 1, so that I would know that this was my first day there.

I put everything away again and start paying attention to my surroundings, I had better get some food, so in order not to get lost from where I was, I picked up the pocket knife and made some marks on the trees so that I would know how to get back towards the river.

As I walked I found some carrots on the ground, and I picked them up, maybe if I cook them if they get better afterwards. Everything was going well, or the best that could be, given the situation. When I picked up five carrots I decided to head back towards the river and when I got there, I started building a small fire. I gathered all kinds of branches and pieces of trees and dry leaves that I could, I gathered everything and together with the lighter I did a fire.

- Eureka! I'm like cavemen! - Even if I tried to lift my mood, I knew it was useless. I sigh and sit by the small fire while I wait for the carrots to be ready, as I've never baked a carrot before, I already expected some of them to burn or otherwise go raw, but it was better than nothing, imagine if i had to eat insects and larvae, ugh, just thinking makes me want to throw up.

As I look towards the sun I realize that it was starting to get darker, and that I was worried about, because I had the feeling that the night wouldn't be good, and to prevent being in the dark, I started to collect several leaves, sticks, pine cones, and everything that could be flammable.

So far I haven't found any monsters that have tried to kill me, at least not yet, I knew it was only a matter of time before it happened, and I don't even know how to hunt or fight a wild animal, and I don't even know what to expect.

The sun started to set and I didn't know if I enjoyed it or despaired, but as I was desperate all the time, why not resting a little and enjoying the sunset? I stood beside the fire, which was very hot, while the last rays of sunlight disappeared on the horizon.

I stayed up all night looking at the fire, the fear of something attacking me while I was asleep was terrifying, and I didn't want that to happen, even if if a monster attacked, there wouldn't be much I could do. I sighed in relief when the sun started to rise again, well, I managed to survive one day, uhul.

I decided that I would explore more today, I took my water bottle and filled it with water from the river, and with the rest of the fire that still had I boiled the water, at least so I would kill some microorganisms. After doing that, I took my backpack and started on my way, and to cheer up a little bit I started singing some songs that I remembered, that reassured me for a moment, until I heard a howl, I looked everywhere but I couldn't know where the sound was coming from, my heart started to beat faster, and I decided to run, until then I see a tree that I would be able to climb, and that's what I did, when I reached the middle I stopped, I looked in all directions but I couldn't see anything besides bushes, trees, some birds and butterflies.

It was better stay there for a while, until I was sure things were safe, but then I found a problem, getting off that tree, climbing was never a problem for me, but getting off was, and I was at some point that if I jumped or fell, I was sure to break some bone, or worse.

- Ok y/n, focus, just go... take it easy, and you won't get hurt. - And that's what I did, more or less, because right on the last branch it broke and I ended up falling to the ground, the good news is that I had reached the ground, the bad news, even if it was low, it still hurted me.

I pull myself together and check that there are no monsters around, and apparently not, I check my backpack and everything was still there. I go back to exploring and taking with me things I might need later. On the way I found several carrots, berries and seeds, as I didn't have a fire I started to eat anyway, maybe with a little fear because I was eating something raw, but it was food.

I walked for several hours until I feel something wet on my arm, and I realize that it started to rain, I look for somewhere that could shelter me, I knew that being close to trees was not ideal because they could attract lightning, but if I went to a field then it was certain that lightning would hit me, but I managed to find something like a cave, but it was a bad idea to get in there, because soon some spiders appeared and started chasing me, why did they have to be spiders?

I ran as fast as I could, until when I went to look back to see if I was still being chased, I didn't notice the roots of a tree, where I tripped and ended up twisting my right foot, I hissed in pain, and when I looked around I realized that at least those spiders had stopped chasing me. I tried to get up but failed and soon fell to the ground without the strength to get up.

I was soaked by the rain, I was dirty with mud, I was cold and my foot was injured, I knew that I probably wouldn't live long.

Several thoughts prowled my mind, will anyone notice that I am gone? If my family finds out? They would be devastated. What if people think I ran away just so I wouldn't pay Mr. Washington? I know it sounds silly, but it could be a possibility.

I couldn't keep tears of sadness, frustration and pain from falling, there were so many emotions that I didn't even know what I was really feeling.

Hopeless that I could live, I just lay there in the mud waiting for my end to come, unable to walk and in the rain, what could happen? I could lie there until the night came and the monsters caught me, or starve.

Until something spoke in my mind, it was weak and almost incomprehensible, but it told me not to give up, so what if I had injured a leg? I still had the other one that was fine, and even if I couldn't balance myself, I could still crawl, but I had to do something!

That gave me a spark of hope, that was right, I couldn't give up now.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=

I hope you enjoyed! Any English error/mistake let me know! If you liked it, please, consider like and/or reblog, it'll helps a lot. Constructive criticism is welcome! Until the next chapter!

See ya

- Ina -

=-=-=-=-=

Masterlist

#don't starve #wilson percival higgsbury #wilson x reader #wilson higgsbury x reader #I know I should write the requests #I'm sorry for this

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theonewiththefanfics · 5 years

Text

Starved (one-shot)

Synopsys: The Reader is a touchy-feely kind of a person and when she joins the Avengers nothing changes. Apart from the fact that Bucky Barnes is so touch starved, he craves for the soft feel of her skin against his and is over the moon she treats him the same way she treats everybody else. Yet one day she simply stops, and he doesn’t know why.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Genre: SMUT, angst, fluuuuf

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (wrap it up you guys), nothing else, as I can remember, Bucky feelin a bit down.

Word count: 3209

“Everyone, this is Y/N. Y/N this is everyone.” Bucky’s eyes snapped up. Behind Steve stood a young woman, eyes shining brightly as she scanned the faces of the Avengers. He’d known that there would be an addition to the team and the man was terrified. It was hard enough for him to communicate with people who he somewhat knew, but now a complete stranger would enter his world and the super soldier would have to get to know them. “Tony, but you already knew that,” the billionaire extended a hand and the girl grasped it, a smirk making its way onto her features. “The guy whose money I’ll be spending. Noice.” One by one the members of the team introduced themselves, easily striking up a conversation with Y/N. Bucky was the last one to go. “I’m Bucky,” his rough palm clasped around her smaller one and for a second it was like electricity shot through them. “Shit, sorry!” her hands were over her mouth as Bucky’s metal arm went limp. Because electricity had shot through his body and fried the wires in the appendage. The Winter Soldier looked at it, trying to move it, but it wouldn’t budge. “What just happened?” “I- uhh- umm. I sorta control electricity and everything like that, ya know, lightning and stuff… I- it wasn’t my intention, to, umm, do that… yeah.” She was flustered, blood making its way up her neck and to her cheeks, embarrassment evident on her hot-feeling face. But Bucky couldn’t care less about the arm. He couldn’t take his gaze away from the girl. How she fidgeted with a ring that sat snugly on her left pointer finger, how the Y/H/C glowed in the setting evening sun, but most importantly- he was entranced and very surprised with how at ease he felt with her. “So, I guess high fives are out of the question,” he smiled shyly at the girl, trying to alleviate the mood and take her off the edge. And it worked. She cracked a smirk of her own and shook her head, shoulders dropping in relief. “I’m more of a hugs kind of a person anyways.”

Bucky’s smile doubled. He’d never felt this free in front of a stranger, so when Tony clasped his palm onto the man’s shoulder he visibly flinched being brought out of the warm bubble. “I think we need to look at that arm of yours, Manchurian Candidate.” But the super soldier didn’t want to. He didn’t care that now it was a useless piece of metal hanging off from his left side, making him lean down quite heavily. Y/N had touched him without a second to spare, she hadn’t cared about who he had been, what the man had done, but most importantly she seemed to actually like him and was happy to meet the guy. They had even joked. The only thing Bucky wanted to do was keep talking to her and get to know their newest addition. “Yo, Barnes and Noble!” Tony hollered down the hall. “You two gramps coming?” Steve let out an exasperated sigh before smiling down at Y/N. “You gonna be okay?” As an answer, the woman gave him two thumbs up before being whisked away by a very excited Peter Parker, who was totally enamoured by her powers and wanted to know more. An hour later Bucky came back in the common room with a bashful smile on his face, eyes instantly scanning the area to find his new source of light. It was like two magnets pulled to one another as Y/N immediately turned her head to face the man, grinning widely while standing up. “Sorry again. About the arm,” she gestured the appendage and put both hands in her back pockets, rocking on the heels of her feet like a teenager who was talking to their crush. In an instant, Bucky’s heart melted at how genuine she was. “It’s fine,” he waved her off. “Was due for an upgrade anyway.” It was Steve’s slap on his best friend’s shoulders that took them out of the sweet moment. “Jesus, punk! You’ll give an old man heart attack.” The snort Y/N let out was the most adorable sound Bucky had ever heard and he swore if life continued to be so nice to him, he would think he was dead and in heaven. “Don’t try and pull the senior card on me. We’re practically the same age,” Steve shot Y/N a wink and the girl rolled her eyes. “Any particular reason you disturbed a lovely conversation I was having?” a well-groomed eyebrow rose up as she crossed her arms. “Actually, two things- every Friday there is a mandatory movie night- no excuses. And two- in two months you’ll have your first mission.” “Yay to the first one and tell me more to the second one,” Y/N jutted out an elbow for Cap and humouring her, he linked his through as they both skipped together to sit down in front of the TV.

*** Bucky was over the moon of having found someone who couldn’t care less about his past. Someone who knew what had happened to him, what he had done, yet nevertheless did not judge. There were no harsh words thrown his way from Y/N, she didn’t flinch whenever the super soldier somehow bumped against her with the metal arm, nor did she recoil when it wove around her midsection to pull her body more comfortably against his during the Friday hangouts. And so more and more he got comfortable with the girl, more and more he started to trust the woman. That was great especially when they got sent on the mission together. It was her first and one of Bucky’s numerous, but still, every time he went out on a battlefield, it felt like a brand new start. The gunshots were suddenly too loud as were the screams and yells, but he had to tune them out, had to do his duty. Yet with Y/N on the field, it seemed to be a lot easier than normal. He knew he had her back and she had his, no matter what. But then a particular episode had rushed to his mind; Bucky felt his body freeze at the thought of agony, at the thought of going back to HYDRA of being captured he almost passed out. The mission was brutal and horrific, and they came onto the jet completely exhausted, the ex-soldier even more so than usual. But Y/N came to the rescue. She instantly sat down in his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered sweet nothings into his ears, Bucky’s own arms clutching onto the girl like she was the last lifeline he had. That is how Steve first saw them, curled into one another when the plane landed back in the tower. The silver-armed man whispered a small ‘hi’ and rushed off to his own quarters to wash off the dread and grime from himself. Y/N was just about to do the same before the Captain pulled at her wrist, willing her to stop. “You should be a bit more careful around him.” Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?” “He’s been through a lot and Bucky… he puts on a brave face, but his mind isn’t still fully healed. He’s been doing great in therapy, but touch is a different thing. I know, you’re an affectionate person, I get it, but maybe could you tone it down a bit with him? It brings back bad memories of his, sometimes when he goes to sleep if people aren’t careful around him, he gets night terrors. So, uh, yeah….” Y/N stood there, eyes wide with concern, but most of all embarrassment that she had been so misinformed. “I- I didn’t know, I’m sorry, Steve. I’ll, yeah, I’ll just keep my hands away.” He gave her a grateful smile and nodded. “He really likes you though. I haven’t seen him smile so much. But sometimes he needs to take things slow. Lord knows that jerk doesn’t realise what is good for him.” With a small smile, Y/N nodded and took in the Captain’s advice. Slowly her morning hugs with Bucky ceased to exist, instead, she just gave him a wave and put his breakfast in front of the man. Then she stopped cuddling up to the ex-assassin during their movie nights rather she sat down onto the ground between Peter, MJ and Ned who had become a core part of the Avenger’s friend group. And any time Y/N pulled away from the man, thinking she was helping him get better, Bucky grew worse and worse. His nightmares came back full swing, body covered a layer in cold sweat that made his skin stick uncomfortably to the sheets. Dark circles appeared under his eyes and they only became deeper as days passed without a single touch from Y/N. Bucky was desperate to know what he did wrong. He blamed himself; vicious thoughts told him he had scared her away, been too pushy, she had grown to hate him for what he’d done as the Winter Soldier, so as he did before- the Avenger retreated into himself. His smiles were fake at best and any time Y/N came into the room, he yearned to be closer, to have her fingers play with his, to melt in the feel of her combing through his hair or fall asleep listening to the steady beats of her heart. What was worse, another type of desire had started to plague Bucky- he had fallen in love with the Y/E/C eyed beauty wishing to be with her in every sense of the way whilst a sea of confusion and hurt stretched between them. It was a bad night for the man. His mind played horrible tricks on him, making Bucky relive the pain once more as he sat in the HYDRA chair, metal clasping around his head as wave after wave of pure torment rippled through his skin and nerves, taking away his identity and morphing him into the organization’s beloved puppet. Then suddenly a soft touch appeared on his left shoulder. He turned to look at who was there but saw nothing. And then- a sweet, sweet voice. The sound of an angel beckoning towards the light. So, he followed. With a gasp, Bucky woke up, sweat dripping down his body and dampening the already wet sheets. It was a struggle to open his eyes, but when he did, the man saw Y/N sitting by his side, a warm palm settled on his shoulder and worry written all across those beautiful features. “You’re alright,” the girl cooed, bringing Bucky’s breathing back to normal. “You’re safe. In the tower. With me.” He could only nod along, lungs still struggling to work, but he just focused on her, how she felt, how her chest rose and fell, how alive and real she was and that the bad things had only been a nightmare. “Thank you,” Bucky choked out. Y/N’s palm went to cradle his cheek and he leaned into the sensation. “Any time.” They stayed like that for a moment before her Y/E/C eyes went wide and she jumped up, recoiled from the man as if he was a poisonous snake. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I, fuck, I forgot.” Bucky just sat there, blue orbs trained on Y/N who had so carelessly touched him. So softly, so tenderly it set his skin ablaze. But not with the fire of pain, but something deeper. She had once again opened up a void in him that needed desperate filling. And Bucky knew only she could do it. “Don’t,” he grasped Y/N’s wrist as she tried to move away. “Please, don’t leave.” “I’m sorry, Buck, I real-“ “Why are you so afraid to touch me?” he whispered out. “What?” “Please,” his tone was pleading, desperate. “When we first met you didn’t care about my metal arm, nor the real one. What happened? Did- did I do something?” Y/N sighed, sitting down with a very visible wince of her face. Gently she laid his vibranium hand in her lap and intertwined their fingers. “After that mission, Steve and I talked. He told me that you don’t like it when people touch you without permission. That bad memories can resurface. I didn’t want to be the reason you get pushed back in your recovery because I’m a touchy-feely kind of a person.” Bucky threw his head back in frustration and held on tighter to Y/N’s palm. “You’re not setting me back. Not- not one bit. I’ve,” he huffed a breath before gathering the swirling thoughts and laying out everything that was on his heart. “I’ve never felt so safe around anyone as I do with you. And yes, that includes me remembering how you completely destroyed my arm with one touch of your palm, but… you make me feel validated, you make me feel like I have a reason to stay… a reason to keep on living. That maybe someday strangers won’t run to the other side of the street just because I’m walking there. That maybe I do deserve a second chance… redemption… maybe I do deserve to be loved...” His gaze was piercing as Y/N listened to every word that slipped past his mouth with bated breath. She was so overwhelmed by Bucky’s sincerity that she acted on impulse and leaned in to kiss him. It lasted only a second before the girl drew back, afraid to have overstepped a boundary, but the other Avenger wasn’t as inclined to let it end so easily. A cold palm settled on the nape of her neck and drew Y/N’s lips down back to his. He felt her fingers weave through his long hair and tug in places, eliciting a deep, guttural moan which she eagerly swallowed. “Where do you want me to touch?” her voice was soft, but it shook Bucky to his core like an earthquake as she spoke. “What?” Gently straddling his lap, Y/N leaned to brush her lips against his ears. “Where do you want me to touch you?” And all he could do was moan a desperate ‘everywhere’ before crashing his lips against hers in a passion filled kiss. Neither noticed when or how they lost their clothes, but it was her tender naked skin gliding across his when Bucky snapped out of the hypnotic trance. Her warm hand had grasped softly around his member and she laid little kisses to his hipbones. “Tell me what you want, Buck,” she whispered kissing up his shaft, feeling him twitch in her hand, but only a strangled moan came from his lips. “I need words, honey.” “Mouth,” he managed to get out while physically restraining himself from just thrusting his hips and making Y/N take him all in. “Please.” His breathing became more and more ragged with every second their eyes kept locked on one another. That was until it seemed like she had enough with the teasing and the girl leaned down swiping her tongue up the underside of his cock in a broad stroke. Bucky groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his arms gave out and he flopped to the bed on his back. Every sensation was amplified to the tenths. It was like his nerves had gone haywire the same way his arm had, only this time with pleasure. His hips instinctively went up, pleading for Y/N to take more of him, to do more, to bring his release closer as it built up, clouding his mind and wiping out any coherent thought. “So close,” Bucky whimpered out ready to completely submit to the pleasure when Y/N drew back. The man jumped up in a sitting posting only to be met by the woman crawling onto his lap once more. “I want you now,” there was an animalistic note in her voice that Bucky simply couldn’t not obey. She was already so wet that simply sliding up and down his shaft covered him completely in her slick. Y/N dropped her head to the crook of his neck, sighing out before the breath got stuck in her throat when Bucky, gave a little snap of his hips and entered her completely. Once more the cerulean eyes rolled back, and he had to hold off from exploding. The girl’s mouth had already done wonders to him, brought him to the edge of heaven, but the feeling of being completely surrounded by Y/N in every sense of the word was a fantasy come true. “Move, Bucky. Please, move,” the super soldier felt her hot breath against his shoulder and so he did. A low moan reverberated through her chest and into his body. It was perfect, so perfect. They moved in sync and as much as he wanted to simply slam into the girl, to throw them in oblivion, Bucky took his time sliding in and out of her as she did with the kisses her lips scattered all across his body before moving back to his lips. He couldn’t get enough of her nor did he think he would ever be able to reach that satisfaction. “Bucky!” The way his name slipped from Y/N’s mouth, jaw hanging open spurred on his actions even more. Both his hands had settled on the woman’s hips, but now they slid to her back, grabbing two handfuls of her butt and rolling her more into him, making her clit rub against his pelvic bone. Bucky could feel her muscles start to contract, the inevitable rush of pleasure that would ripple through her was approaching and at that point, he completely forgot it had started out with her taking care of him. Now it was only Y/N and how he needed for her to break, wanted to see her shatter as he gave himself away to her. And she did. With a desperate whine, her orgasm finally crashed down onto the girl and pulled Bucky with it. He could faintly note Y/N's nails digging sharply into his taut back muscles, but all he saw was galaxies and starts and all he felt was love and safety. Y/N trembled in Bucky’s grasp, his arms pulling her much smaller body close to his, head hidden in the crook of his neck. He left exhausted kisses all from her collarbone to the shell of her ear and down to the top of her breast. The man was just about to pass out, the Avenger’s smaller frame safely by his side when she spoke. “If this is where me touching you leads… you can bet I’ll be attached to you like a leech.” A genuine laugh that stemmed deep from within, rumbling like thunder across the sky encased Y/N in its warm embrace. “If you hadn’t listened to Steve and his stupid advice this could’ve happened a lot sooner.” “Hey!” Y/N gently slapped his bicep. “I thought I was doing more harm than good. And he is your best friend, been through thick and thin with you. Why would I not trust him?” “He means well… but he’s wrong about what I need.” Y/E/C eyes finally met his once more. “And what is that.” “You.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx@nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn @projectxhappiness @callmebucky-doll @coal000 @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken @sophiealiice @raquelbc2003 @watch-out-for-thorns @potentially-kinetic @thatonegirljessy99 @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611 @horrorx570ximagines @the-nargles-made-me-do-it @pooslie @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass

A/N: I’ve been gone for a while and I don’t know when the uploading schedule will get consistent but thank you for bearing with me as it is. Uni is a lot and the assignments are coming like crazy, so I hope you can stick it out with me :)

Also, I saw Hamilton and it was fucking amazing!!!!!!!

P.S. tell me what you think :)

P.S.S. if you wanna be tagged in future works or have any requests, please drop a message :)

P.S.S.S. please don’t repost without credit :)

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darkdevasofdestruction · 5 years

Text

Dabi x Insecure!Fem!S/O

She always wished to become a Hero, but because of her Quirk, she was always put down by her classmates and friends, so she lost most of her faith in herself, but at the same time, her dreams never died. This came from when she was young, when All Might saved her from a horrible villain with a really scary Quirk and since then, she saw him as her role model.

Don’t worry, little one! It’s alright now! Why? Because I’m here! All Might!” the #1 Hero said confidently, striking a pose. “M-Mister All Might...? Do you think I...I could be a Hero too? Everyone says m-my Quirk is stupid and boring b-but...! I-I really think I could help people with it!” the little girl stuttered, looking up at her role model in hope, tears flooding her eyes. “What is your Quirk, young one?” All Might asked, kneeling in front of her. “I-I can heal my friends’ wounds! One day Yuri tripped and scrapped her knee and I put my hands above her injury a-and it just vanished!” she exclaimed in glee. “That is a very useful skill, young one! When you grow older, you can enroll in U.A. Academy for the Hero course. After all, everyone needs a Healer in their team!” he beamed, ruffling her hair. “Th-Then, if you ever need help, I could save you?! I can be a Hero too?!” the little girl was grinning so much by now that her cheeks started hurting. “Yes, you can become a Hero! And I’m looking forward to working with you, young...! Uh...” he continued, realising he doesn’t actually know her name. “Y/N! I’m Y/N and I promise to work very hard and become a Hero so I can save people who need it!” young Y/N yelled, jumping up and down, until her mother came to pick her up, thanking the Pro Hero from the bottom of her heart, but he only shook his head saying it’s no problem and that he’s happy he got to meet a little one with such brimming potential.

The problem was that for those classmates of hers all throughout middle-school and surprisingly even later, in Highschool, her Quirk was just incredibly lame and boring. Nothing flashy or noticeable that would make her stand out from the rest of the Heroes. So clearly, that meant she wouldn't become a significant Hero or anywhere close to that. What was worse, along with the Quirk bullying, the more popular were jealous of her amazing intellect, so like any middle-school, kids kept trash-talking, taunting and putting her down with every occasion they got, especially when it came to the obvious body-shaming for no apparent reason other than being mean. The girl, in all actuality, was average thin, normal curves, a pretty face, nice hair colour, nothing wrong or inaesthetic about her, but like any bullying, she started believing their words and put them at heart, that poor unfortunate soul. Now, here she was, last year of Highschool at U.A. and having earned a full internship at a highly renowned Hero Emergency-Hospital and she only had to go through the exams, and all was well.

The problem, as far as it goes, was that her mother, her only relative, was killed in a shooting and now she was left alone with no support of any kind, which only led her to further succumb to her darkness. Her only way of saving herself was by going out at night, only a lonely hill, watching over the city lights and listening to music, occasionally crying her sorrows away, until she'd get back on her feet and start again the next day with full strength.

This night was the same for her, pulling her hoodie close to her and muttering the lyrics of "Come as you are" by Nirvana softly, looking up at the stars, absent-minded. Tonight, however, things changed and for the girl, it was the beginning of a completely new world.

"Yo!" she heard, as a stranger pulled away one of her earphones and looked at her with a mock-grin. "Wh-Who are you? Don't you know it's rude to disturb people? Or, even worse, take out their earphones?" she said, looking at him with her usual irked resting bitch face. "You're a fun one, aren't you?" He muttered, putting in the earphone. "Oh, lookie, the pretty girl has a nice tase in music." "I'm not pretty. But yes, I know I've got a nice music taste. I mean...Who doesn't like Nirvana?" she said as a matter of fact, looking down. "Hmmm...I think I heard a couple of shitheads dissing them some time ago." the stranger trailed, putting his hand on his chin, as if he was pensive, sitting down next to her. "Heh. People forgot how amazing the music from the 80′s and 90′s was...Eh, that's a pity. At least there're still some people out there who appreciate quality music". The bluenette sighed, fidgeting with her earphones, a little trick she learnt as a way to cope with her anxieties. "So, you come here often, pretty girl?" the weird-looking stranger asked, leaning his head on his fist. "Stop calling me that, it doesn't suit me. And why do you ask? Planning in kidnapping me or something?" She mumbled, an amused breath escaping her lips as he startef chuckling. "Only if you want me to, Pretty Girl that I'll address as such until I find out her real name." The stranger smirked, looking at her with piqued interest. "You first. It's only common courtesy, if you ask me." Y/N huffed, looking away "Of course, of course, how could I forget the courtesies. Name's Dabi. Now it's your turn, princess." he chuckled, expecting an answer.

Instead, the girl just laughed softly, got up, dusting herself and turned around, waving at him lazily, saying a simple "Laters, stalker!" . Dabi tried to call out for her, shocked to see her leave, but it only made his interest in her sky-rocket. He needed to see more of her, to hear and learn more about her. He was caught in her web and damn was he up for a challenge. Truth be told, the next day this brunet stranger with mermerising shiny blue eyes was the only thing that ran through her head, which somehow made it easy for her to ignore all the snarky comments or how uncomfortable she felt wearing a short skirt, even if her legs were covered more or less by the black stockings.

She made her way out of the U.A. Academy, briefly hearing the rude comments and tuning them out, hurrying to get back home, when again, a voice calls out for her, calling her ‘Princess’, and with a surprised look, she glanced at the trees in the park she was passing by and spots the guy with major skin injuries waving at her lazily, jumping down from a tree branch, the characteristic smirk still plastered on his face.

"Oh, look at that, it's stalker boy again. What brings you here?" the bluenette asked mockingly, looking in the exact opposite direction, biting her lip, trying to make sure nobody was around to see her. "I had to find out the name of the pretty girl who likes nice music, right?" he smirked, leaning on the tree in a cool, macho way. "Yes, totally something a normal person would do, y'know?" the girl said amused, trying to stop herself from smiling at the one who calls himself Dabi. But before he could say anything, a group of girls could be heard pretty close to their location. Recognising the voices, Y/N tensed up and tried to hide somewhere, but a pitch "HEY, QUIRKLESS!" , which only made the girl try to move faster, facepalming. "What are you doing here, Quirkless? Urgh, you're wearing a skirt and a short-sleeves shirt, nonetheless. What, you think showing your body like is gonna make people like you? Fat chance, much like you." They sneered at their highschool mate. "It's our uniform. I can't wear anything else at school." She mumbled, holding her hands together tightly, trying to control her emotions. "You're useless, remember that. You are never gonna be a Hero so just give up!" The bullies laughed at her in a mocking way, but the bluenette only gritted her teeth, not wanting to retort to violence. "My Quirk is not useless and I am going to become a Hero! All Might said I have potential and I'm going to go by that until the day I die!" the girl said with much conviction, stomping away from the troublesome squad. "Is that what your mother said too before she died?!" one of then yelled, which only made made her go away faster, tears threatening to escape her eyes, as the topic of her mother was a very sensitive one still. She could feel her heart being stomped on with each second she could still hear their annoying, taunting laughs, not even realising the stream of tears flowing down her porcelain tears as she got into an empty alley and seeing herself alone, she allowed herself to slide down a wall and hug her knees, crying as she got flashbacks of when her mother jumped in front of her to save her from the bullet and died in her arms, telling her to stay strong and happy. But how could she be happy when she was all alone in such a cruel world?

“Don’t tell me you actually listen to their yaps, Pretty Girl.” the same voice of the brunet man was suddenly heard in the alley, making the girl glare at him through the tears, clearly pissed off. “What the hell is your problem?! Can’t you just leave me alone?!” she yelled at him, feeling fire surging through her veins. “Calm down, babes. All I’m saying is that they suck and you don’t. Take it as you want.” he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. “Oh, really? Because the way you said it was quite patronising and invalidating!” she sneered at him, which only made him chuckle. “Nahh, nothing like that, don’t worry. I mean, for you, I can be anything you want, but the last thing I can imagine you’d want is some guy making sex jokes to make you laugh. Oh, hold on-” he faked being surprised at what he just said and looked away, sheepishly, making the girl laugh softly. “Well, guess that guy was successful, somehow” she muttered, hiding her smiling face on her knees. “Oh, look, Pretty Girl can laugh! How cute~.” he teased her, poking her cheek, which she only slapped away, making him smirk amused. “Why do you keep calling me pet names, damn it? They aren’t even true, anyways.” she asked with a pout. “Because, babes, if I don’t call you pet names, what am I supposed to call you?” he asked, crouching to he level, raising an eyebrow at her, challenging her. “Well...You could start by calling me yours...?” she whispered shyly, barely looking up to face him, hiding the small blush on her face, not believing that SHE just said that. “No waaaaay you said that. No way the cute, innocent, little toots just shamelessly flirted with a stranger like that.” he grinned in satisfaction getting dangerously close to her face, making her yelp in surprise and glue herself to the wall, avoiding looking at him. “I said nothing! You must have hearing problems or something! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she refuted, biting her lip. “Well, I guess I won’t have who to listen to Nirvana with anymore...That’s a pity. Can’t be helped, I guess.” he shrugged, mocking disappointment and raising to his feet, turning around to leave.

But before he could even make another step, his jacket got grabbed and his motion stopped, as he chuckled darkly, knowing full well that he wasn’t the only one interested in the other.

“I...I have a playlist for that on my phone...If you want...” she mumbled, looking away as if it wasn’t that big of a deal, but Dabi new better, helping her on her feet and walking with her around, listening together to Nirvana and Guns’n’Roses, sharing earbuds and singing the lyrics together.

It was probably the most beautiful and memorable night for the both of them as the light of the moon was guarding over them, making sure nothing disturbs the two who just seemed so happy.

Many weeks passed and they kept meeting up in secret, the girl still teasing him, not wanting to tell him her name, claiming that it will ruin they air of mystery surrounding her, so he just continues to call her stupidly cheesy pet names that she fake-hates, but in all actuality, make her feel very good.

Since she was one of the very few students with a Healing Quirk, she had to go everywhere on the field when activities happened, and today was a special test for the Seniors of U.A. Academy where they had to fight the teachers and she was to be there to heal everyone in that whole mayhem, without anyone being “killed”, be it ‘Hero’ or ‘Villain’.

This was a fun game they played at U.A., but it didn’t last long for a mysterious Nomu attack took place where the ‘Heroes’ aka the Students’ side was placed and it was needless to say that none of them managed to beat the mighty beast, only making the girl run from person to person to heal them, until she completely exhausted herself. Despite the basic hand-to-hand combat that she had to learn in order to save herself if needed, there was nothing protecting her, since her Quirk was in no way offensive.

She noticed the Nomu approaching the place where most of the injured students lay, trying to catch their breath, including the mean bullies who kept teasing her endlessly, but this was a life or death situation and she put aside the differences and with her last efforts, created a big water bubble that rained on them, healing their wounds, as she yelled at them to run away and get the teachers since they were no match for the beast that even made All Might sweat.

The leader of the bullies, the girl who was once her friend, Yuri, tripped on her way, and despite having been mentally tortured by the girl for so many years, Y/N’s heart just couldn’t bear seeing her in pain, so she jumped in front of her to protect her from the monster, which took her by the neck and threw her on the other side of the field, as she heard Yuri’s frantic voice calling out her name in desperation and fear.

It was clear that now that she sees her old friend in real pain, about to die after protecting her spurred her memories and emotions enough to realise that she never hated her, but was jealous of her...However, she never wanted to see her in pain...Or worse, dead.

Y/N used all her strength to raise a bit, and crawl on her knees to see the situation at hand, but when she saw the Nomu looking at Yuri again, she started yelling at it, throwing rocks at it, trying to get its attention so the girl could make her escape.

He took the bait as she screamed to Yuri to take everyone and run away to get help, but her words were interrupted half-way as the monster picked her up by the neck of her costume and slammed her on the ground, creating a crater. It took every ounce of power she had not to faint or cry from the pain, when she heard a low, dark voice booming around...Voice that she recognised immediately.

“You stupid beast, did Shigaraki put you up to this? Well then, you’re welcomed to leave, this is my territory now...Oh? You’re not leaving yet? Very well then...I’ll just have to cremate you...Burn you to ashes and scatter them away.” he said threateningly at the monster in front of him as she crouched to pick Y/N up from the crater and place her in a safer place. “Don’t fight it...The teachers are on their way...” she muttered, coughing blood and trembling in pain. “Don’t talk, you’ll just get worse. Nobody can get away with touching my girl.” he said in a stern voice as he got up, preparing his blue flames. “I can help you...I can empower your flames, if your body can take it...” she tried to speak, grabbing his leg in a way to give him her life essence and power. “Give me your best shot, babes. I’m treating you tonight.” he smirked as he could already feel a strong energy going through him. “Mhhh that’s hot...And I didn’t mean your flames. Show them who’s the boss, love~!” as she focused on sending him steady power energies in a way that it wouldn’t overwhelm him, he only chuckled darkly as she flirted with him even now, in such a poor state.

He was revenge-driven.

The brilliant blue flames engulfed every inch of the monstruosity, which tried to escape and fight back, but it was to no avail, as it started crumbling on the ground, ashes falling and scattering away, the threat easily gone.

“How pathetic. It takes all the 3rd years to just get injured by that weirdo, but only one hot guy to burn it to crisps.” the girl chuckled from the ground, looking up at him, smiling, releasing his leg. “Didn’t know I could do that. Must be the power exchange or somethin’...Hey, are you feelin’ okay?” he shrugged, but as soon as she saw her face paling, he caught her in his arms, getting slightly worried. “Urgh, yeah, don’t worry...I just overused my Quirk that’s all...Nothing I can’t handle.” she smiled at him reassuringly. “Take it easy, babe. I said I’m treating you to dinner, better don’t faint on me.” he muttered, but she only put her arms around his neck, kissing him softly. “Y/N.” she whispered in his ear, making him look at her with a victorious smirk. “Y/N~?” he repeated in a seductive voice. “Unless you still want to call me yours or other pet names. It’s up to you...Babes.” she winked at him as he lifted her up bridal style. “And it only took about a month to-” Dabi tried to say, but was cut off by a girly voice, uncharacteristically meek. “Hey Quirkl-...I-I mean...Y/N...Uhm...Are you okay?” Yuri muttered, looking at the ground. “Uh...Yeah, I guess I am. That is, if Dabi likes the taste of blood. And you? You almost got attacked by that thing.” she said, looking bored at the girl. “Oh, I’m alright, thanks to you...Uh...So yeah...Thank you for saving me...I-...I guess you’re not so bad, after all...For a Quirkless, that is.” she stammered, trying to sound tough. “Well, this Quirkless just saved your life so I guess maybe you should stop using that stupid name when you address me. Now go to the teachers, you’re wasting time.” Y/N yawned, dismissing her quickly. “Do you...Want to get back to how we were? When we were friends and all-” but she was cut off by a strong negative reply. “You’ve been bullying me since middle-school and you think we can be friends again? No. I saved you because I swore an oath to aid people in need. I didn’t save YOU, Yuri. I saved a human’s life. That’s all.” she muttered with an air of superiority, looking at her from above, as she turned her full attention to the brunet man she called ‘hers’. “Ramen and soda? Sounds like the perfect date, hm~?” Dabi asked, leaving the place, just in case the Heroes arrived. “We don’t even need candles to make it romantic. You’re just THAT lit~.” she winked at him, making him chuckle at her lame but adorable flirt attempts. “Can’t imagine many pubs wanting to have a human torch randomly throwing fire here and there.” he stated, looking at her, leaning his head slightly to the side. “Who said anything about a pub? There’s a 24/7 shop next to my house. Can’t miss it~.” she grinned, making him stop mid-way. “Toots, I almost don’t recognise you. You amaze me~.” he chuckles at her, which only made her kiss him again. “Hope you like the taste of metal, cause my last Iron Maiden CD just broke yesterday.” she laughed at her horrible joke, poking his cheek. “Then I can only hope you have some very good movies, babe.” he mumbled, kissing her forehead and enjoying the way home in a comfortable silence, her snuggled to his chest, finally feeling safe and at peace in his arms.

Who’d have thought that a Hero and a Villain could get along so well~?

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mxdanni · 5 years

Text

And Now You Don’t. Ethan x m!MC

My Open Heart Ethan Ramsey x m!MC series:

When Push Comes To Shove (p. 1 & p. 2)

He Wasn’t Meant to Hear

Confess (+ the crew at Donahue’s)

Likeable (+Dolores)

Thinking Straight (+Dolores)

The Right Kind of Therapy

Now You See Me (+Dr Banerji)

this one goes here (+Jenner)

Somebody’s Crush (+Elijah & Landry)

Summary: After accidentally learning about Dr Banerji, MC demands an explanation. The deal might involve a bribe (coffee), wine (at Ethan’s place) and other spilt secrets...

m!MC : Dr Cheng Lee

“...”

Cheng glanced at Dr Ramsey for what seemed like a hundredth time. The other just walked on, silently and scowling slightly at some thoughts of his own. The ones he wouldn’t care to share.

“It’s Dr Banerji, isn’t it?”

Dr Ramsey huffed.

“Oh, come on. I saw him,” persisted Cheng. “He suddenly retires, and now he’s admitted. Under a no name for no reason to make matters worse.”

Dr Ramsey shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not letting it go, are you, rookie?”

“Nope.”

“... should’ve known,” muttered Dr Ramsey.

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” Dr Ramsey, finally, looked up and to his right at Cheng. “I am telling you everything, alright? But not here.”

Cheng blinked. Then nodded and had to push the glasses up his nose. He thought about it for a second and grinned, “So you’re not leading me on to get rid of me, huh?”

“Wha–“

“Well, you did yell at me to follow you–“

“Not yelled–“

“It was more like ordered, really.” Cheng shrugged. “I don’t mind that much, you’re frustrated. Just don’t take it out on other people that often.” Cheng met Dr Ramsey’s eyes, the other was watching him very closely, his own face unreadable. “Okay, you told me to follow you after my shift, then we left Edenbrook and have been walking for some time now. In silence. And you have that scary scowling face of yours that sends the nurses hiding behind their station.”

“Really?”

Cheng chuckled at the surprised expression. “Yeah.” He grimaced and pulled on the corners of his eyes. “This one, you know,” Cheng snarled in the most intimidating voice he could manage.

“No,” Dr Ramsey reached out– but snatched his hand away before his fingers grazed Cheng’s forearm. “Do they really hide?”

“So you are not debating the scowl?” Cheng laughed, and the heavy mood seemed to be lifting a bit. “But no, they’re too scared to hide. Probably ‘cause if you don’t find them, it would make you angrier.” He pointed his finger up. “Bu-u-ut, I’ve heard they do toss a coin who comes out to help you.”

Dr Ramsey... well, almost chuckled. Cheng grinned to himself and said nothing, yet he did hear the muffled sound escape. He readjusted his glasses to cover up that he knew, or his face would’ve betrayed it all.

“So where’re we...?” Cheng traced off because Dr Ramsey, suddenly, dashed into a cafe. “Hey!” He hurried after.

There was no line at the counter so Cheng reached Dr Ramsey already ordering. “... and an... espresso romano. To go, please.” Dr Ramsey stopped Cheng’s hand reaching for his own pocket before Cheng said anything, and shook his head.

The barista handed them two cups rather quickly, and they went outside.

“So it is a bribe?” Cheng smirked.

“No–“

“Too bad. Bribe accepted!” Cheng saluted his cup and took a careful sip. “Wow, that’s good.”

A smile tugged on the corner of Dr Ramey’s lips. It was hardly even there, and yet Cheng noticed before it melted away. “Thought you’d like it. They serve it better but I’d rather not talk about, Naveen,” he lowered his voice at the name, “inside.”

“So where are we going then?” Cheng tried once again. He wasn’t even hoping to hear an answer this time.

“My place. It’s safe to talk there.”

“Oh?” Cheng missed a step when an answer did come.

“Objections?”

“No. None.” Cheng raised his hands. “I got nothing to do anyway. But just you know,” he grinned and glanced around the empty station, "I’m good at keeping secrets.”

"So I’ve noticed.”

“Wha-at? I don’t have a secret!”

“Uh-huh.” Dr Ramsey stepped into the train.

“Hey!” Cheng dashed after him and was about to settle onto the seat by his side. The train started moving as he was sitting down, and that sent Cheng flying a little. “Sorry.” He bumped into Dr Ramsey’s knee, and glasses slipped down his nose. Cheng hurriedly plumped himself down and smiled sheepishly.

Dr Ramsey cleared his throat. “We need to take a few stations,” he explained calmly, and his expression remained blank. He didn’t even look at Cheng. Dr Ramsey actually looked anywhere around the carriage but at Cheng.

They reached their destination in silence. Cheng glanced around to take the neighbourhood in but couldn’t bring himself to comment on it. Or anything else.

Dr Ramsey opened the door to his flat and held it open.

“Erm, thanks?” Cheng lingered in the doorway a bit and eyed Dr Ramsey up and down. "Ow!”

“Woof!”

“Hey, there buddy,” Cheng laughed and patted Jenner linking at his face. “So I’m a decoy, huh? And I was wondering why were you holding that door for me.” He grinned back at Dr Ramsey while still scratching behind the dog’s ears. “Is he always like that?”

Dr Ramsey cleared his throat and, rather awkwardly, stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Give Dr Lee space, Jenner,” he scolded the dog, and Jenner jumped back to stand on all paws, rather than have two on Cheng.

“Nah, I’m fine.” Cheng bent forward to pat Jenner on the head. “Jenner’s just being very friendly.” He was almost sure he heard Dr Ramsey mutter something under his breath.

— — —

“I’m so sorry…” Cheng reached out, hesitating, yet did put his hand on Dr Ramsey’s knee. The other breathed out sharply and flinched at the contact but didn’t shove his hand away. “You know I understand just how exactly you feel, right?”

Dr Ramsey didn’t answer for some time, and Cheng waited. “Yes. You… you watch somebody very important to you, somebody you care about melt away, and can do nothing to stop it… it is so… so.”

“Helpless?” Cheng suggested.

Dr Ramsey scowled for a second but nodded in the end. “Helpless. Useless.” He moved his glass and watched the remaining vine swirl.

Jenner let out a high pitched whine as he settled at Cheng’s feet and lowered his head on them.

“I’m here.” Cheng squeezed Dr Ramsey's knee lightly. "I know, it doesn’t mean much but just so that you absolutely and surely know it. I’m here, and I am right here for you.”

Cheng felt his glasses slowly slip down his nose. He scrunched it, somehow trying to push them up – his hands were occupied either way: one on Dr Ramsey’s knee, the other held a wine glass. He felt the other’s gaze on him, eyes slowly traced down every feature…

Cheng stared. It felt suddenly so unreal, as if the time has stopped. A smile teased on the corner of Dr Ramsey’s lips, he chuckled quietly and reached out. There was still in his eyes, and the dark circles under, but somehow it felt like his expression lightened. Cheng gulped. A warm fingertip grazed his nose, a mere second, and adjusted his glasses just right. Their eyes met–

“Sorry I–“ Dr Ramsey snatched his hand and cleared his throat. He even shifted to the side so that he would seat further away on the sofa. “Don’t know what came over me."

“Uh-huh.” Cheng glanced around, his eyes lingering on Jenner by his feet. He bent down, mostly to hide his face, and petted Jenner. “N-never mind. Erm. Alright, let’s do this!” Cheng exclaimed and jumped to his feet.

Jenner yelped and sprinted around him.

“Do… what?” Dr Ramsey frowned and placed his glass on the coffee table.

"Well, I assumed you'd have copies in here as well?"

Dr Ramsey raised his eyebrow.

“Dr Banerji files? Test results?” suggested Cheng. “I might not be that brilliant but sometimes a fresh pair of eyes can help. Let me have a go.”

“You would–“

“I want to help you,” interrupted Cheng. “So let me.”

Dr Ramsey didn’t move, he was studying Cheng’s face and very intensely. Cheng could actually feel as his eyes traced his every feature. Dr Ramsey’s resolve waved, and he sighed.

“I’ll help you research,” persisted Cheng and gestured around. “Here’s good, right? Nobody will know, and I will just swing by after my shifts.”

And Dr Ramsey nodded.

“Well,” Cheng added hurriedly. “Unless it’s Friday.” He saw the other flinch, and Cheng blurted out. “That is, I will come still. But at eight I leave for half an hour and call gran. I do it every week.” Cheng looked away, over Dr Ramsey’s shoulder and through the window at the night city lights. “She’s all I got. Worried about how I manage in the big city and all. We lived in a small town.”

“Oh. Sorry, I–“

“Never mind.” Cheng shook his head. “You do wonder about my parents, don’t you?” He bent forward and scratched Jenner behind the ears. “My father died when I was three. Got killed.”

Cheng fell silent and glanced at his empty wine glass. Seemed to follow his gaze, Dr Ramsey stood up and topped both glasses again.

“Thanks.” Cheng pulled on a weak smile. The corners of his lips quivered. It felt so fake Cheng huffed a laugh. “I need that.” He took a large gulp.

“And your mother?”

Cheng laughed again. A deeper, more eerie sound. Glanced at Dr Ramsey, then into his glass and drenched the wine. “She killed him,” Cheng whispered. “They say she was slipping into madness after giving birth to me. Gran grabbed me and ran for the States. That’s it. Ugh.”

Cheng dashed to his right but couldn’t keep on his feet and landed straight onto Dr Ramsey’s lap. The other flinched, caught him in his arms still, as Cheng effortlessly snatched the half-full wine glass from his hand and downed it as well.

“You know,” Cheng whispered. He didn’t move, Dr Ramsey’s arms still secure around him, “the worst part is that gran blames herself for that.” He felt that grip tighten. “Because she insisted father married my mother. Gran thought she would make a perfect wife, and see where it landed us... a mess.” And Cheng leaned into the embrace as well.

His forehead pressed firmly against Dr Ramsey’s shoulder.

— — —-

Dr Ethan Ramsey... had no idea what to do. Honestly, there were a few things that would leave him so utterly lost, and Dr Cheng Lee has recently moved up that list. The very same intern shifted on his lap and lay back. He was now halfway sitting, still right on his lap, back against the arm of the sofa and legs draped over Ethan’s.

Ethan froze. He felt... confused. And yet Cheng looked so comfortable, so peaceful compared to the pained look the memories brought him.

Ethan wouldn’t move. He flexed his fingers midair but couldn’t resist touching, titling Cheng to his chest, his arms wrapped safely around the smaller form. He felt... besotted. Now, that was bad. One hell of bad.

Ethan closed his eyes and breathed out. Jenner raised his head and rolled over to lie next to Ethan’s feet.

“Gran supports me,” Cheng mumbled, and Ethan flinched. He glanced at him, but Cheng didn’t seem to be awake. His chest was rising steadily, and it calmed Ethan at least the intern won’t remember it. Again.

Ethan groaned silently. It was even worse than that time at intense care! Then Cheng snuggled against him but now... Well, now he decided to drape himself all over Ethan’s lap!

“In anything. You know, I saw her... my mother. Father lying at her feet, blood all over the floor.” A muffled chuckle, more of a soft gasp, escaped his lips. “I was afraid of women till primary school. Then just of women of a very particular height and build. It got better from that, gran always had my back.”

Ethan sighed and gave in. His palms slid around the warm body, one settling on the lower of Cheng’s back. The other traced up to the side of Cheng’s face, fingertips barely grazing skin.

Cheng snuggled against Ethan’s chest, and the other held him even tighter.

“And now?” mumbled Cheng. “Well, I just don’t see myself in a relationship with one.”

Ethan had no idea what he was to do with that piece of information.

- -

Taglist: @flower-child-54 @msjpuddleduck @warning-fangirlapproaching @x-kyne-x @lilyofchoices @rookie-ramsey @lapisreviewsstuff @perriewinklenerdie @fuckingelfstolemyliver @givemeoneethan @potbam @commander-rahrah @furiouscloddonutpeanut @archieandrewsbf @huckitcrab @edgiestwinter @pixieinboots @untealyoutellmewhy @tallulahshh @drstrange46ers @andromedasinclaire @raines-ramsey-hunt @melmcgonagall @yayalovesyou @dr-brianna-casey-valentine @beesbeesfearfear @hervench @inlovewithrebels @marshmallow-drake

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wykart · 5 years

Text

Does it Matter? (It’s Klaus)

Part 2 of Fifty-one years (and one day) later (read on ao3)

I've made this a sequel rather than the next chapter of the fic because I was really happy with the way that 'Fifty-one years (and one day) later' ended, and wanted it to be read as a self-contained (relatively short) story. However, I couldn't stop thinking about what would happen next in this version of events!

So, if you want more of this timeline, and are ready for some MAJOR angst, then continue at your own risk :) I hope you enjoy!

Summary: The truth comes out, and Klaus must come to grips with the fact that his entire life of happiness with Dave was taken away by his own brother.

2 days, 16 hours

He took the briefcase back up to his room after he was done lecturing them all. He finally had them all gathered in one place, and he had a lead on who was going to cause the apocalypse. He’d had to… circumvent a couple of things to get them all here, all ready for what was coming, but it was all trivial in relation to the extinction of the human race. Well, that’s what he told himself anyway. He dusted off the case and tucked it under his bed. The shrapnel still embedded in his side sent a pulse of white hot pain through him as he bent over. He couldn’t ignore it any longer, and he would be no use to the others if his wound got worse and he was put out of commission for hours, even days… that wouldn’t do. He resolved, however reluctantly, to talk to Mom about patching it up. She may have been a robot, but her first aid training was impeccable.

...

2 days, 14 hours

Five had sent the other three off on errands of their own – Diego and Allison to dig up data on Harold Jenkins from the local police station, and Luther to search through Dad’s research for something about that impending apocalypse good’ol’Reggie would always work into the odd lecture or grandiose speech. Klaus, on the other hand, was useless. He couldn’t be trusted with anything important, and for good reason. Five had said that all of them needed to be together to stop this thing, but Klaus felt like he could’ve slunk away into the shadows without any of them noticing. He’d turned up after being missing for a day, a few shades darker, hair shorter, new tattoos and muscles and everything, and Five had been the only one who’d noticed.

That’s where he was going now, to see Five. He wanted to know if there was anything he could do to help – not that he particularly cared about helping – just to clear his conscience so he could laze around guilt-free. There was that, and the fact that Five seemed hurt. He’d been clutching his side earlier, limping like he was injured. He wasn’t the sort to admit when something was wrong with him, to show signs of weakness.

It was strange to see Five’s old room occupied again, they’d kept the door shut for so many years, never wanting to renovate or reuse the space, never wanting to admit that he was really gone. There was some crazy math shit on the walls that made Klaus’ head spin, and that creepy mannequin was smiling at him from the bed. He didn’t want to think about what his little (way older) brother and that mannequin got up to at night.

The bed was covered in dirt, and Klaus followed the trail down to the floorboards, leading under the bed. There was a pretty battered looking black briefcase under there, but Klaus knew better than to open it this time. So Five had one after all, then why had he been so angry at Klaus for destroying the last one? And why had he bothered using a fake briefcase just yesterday when he met up with those psychos from the motel? He turned the object over in his hands, there was damp, dark mud covering the bottom corners – and it was fresh. There were sticky strips all over it, where duct tape had been pulled off, taking some of the black coat with it. It was scratched up, worn out, not like the pristine, perfect box Klaus had used. In fact, he could have sworn that pattern of scratches where the very same that Klaus had dug in with his nails during his nervous nights in the jungle, clutching it, reminding himself of where he’d been, and of what he’d decided to give up but never brought himself to let go. One of the latches was missing from the top of the case, as if it had snapped off at the axis. Suddenly, a rush of recognition shot through him and he rummaged in the pockets of his military vest, puling out a black hunk of plastic he’d found back in Vietnam. It had been lying in the jungle on the path back to the tent… just sitting there at the edge of the clearing where Klaus had lost everything. It fit perfectly in the space that the case’s missing latch had left behind – clearly, this was where it had come from. Had Five stolen this case from another of those time travelling bastards?

“Hey Ben, take a look at this,” He beckoned his brother over, who’d been leaning in the corner of the room, bored. “I found a piece of this case back in 1968, so whoever Five took this from was there that night.” He was perplexed - what would Five’s old time travelling buddies want with - “Dave.” He said, eyes staring off, far away, to another time. He heard the racket of gunfire ricocheting around his skull, the whistle of bombs dropping, the thundering of helicopter blades, screams and cries of triumph. His voice, strained against the uncaring din, screaming for help...

“Klaus?” Ben asked, leaning over him, his face knotted with concern. Klaus pulled his hands from over his ears, wiping away the beginnings of tears that had been forming in his eyes.

“I’m okay,” he lied. “It’s just, Luther said that Five’s old employers were all about ‘correcting the timeline’ or whatever. I stole their briefcase time machine thingy, and I’ll bet they knew about it too.”

“So you think, what-“

“They came to kill me, or at least get the case back.”

Ben thought for a moment. He hadn’t been there with Klaus during those months, being negative-twenty-one years old and all. He’d only spent a night wondering where Klaus had gone when he’d disappeared on the bus, wondering if he would ever rematerialise. He’d been so happy when he found Klaus again, knowing that he wouldn’t be banished from this plane of existence for good, wouldn’t have to face the fact that he no longer existed in any real sense. He’d been happy, until he saw the blood on his hands and the hurt in his eyes - the tan and the tattoos and the fresh wave of grief he was drowning in. Of course, he’d never met Dave, but he could tell how much he meant to Klaus - a shred of hope and normalcy found in the least normal of situations - and even that had been taken away. “So you think they killed Dave?”

“I think they came to kill me, and Dave just got in the way.” They way Klaus was looking at him, begging him to prove him wrong, it was heart breaking.

“I... don’t think that makes a lot of sense,” he considered, pacing around the room. He used to spend so much time here as a kid, with Five and sometimes Vanya, taking a moment of peace away from their more rambunctious siblings. “They’re supposed to be professionals, I doubt they’d miss. What if they were trying to get the case back here, to the present where it belonged.”

“So then, they killed Dave?” Klaus was trying to puzzle it out. The fact that such an organisation existed at all was a troubling notion. It might have even caused him some form of existential distress if he wasn’t already so deep in a pit of self-loathing and nihilistic indifference that he didn’t care anymore.

“Well, wasn’t he the reason you stayed? You told me you only stuck around because of him, what if they knew that?” Ben tried to pretend that he wasn’t hurt by this notion - he was dead, after all, and didn’t make for great company. Would Klaus really have abandoned him? More importantly, would he really have abandoned everyone else?

…

“Klaus?” Five was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, watching Klaus fiddling with the briefcase he’d stowed under there. He was muttering to himself, like he so often did. A shot of panic ran through Five’s thoughts, but he promptly reminded himself that there was no way that Klaus could retain any memories from his un-lived life, there was no way he could know. “What are you doing?”

Klaus jumped and looked around to see Five standing there, the shrapnel now removed from his gut and bandaged up. “Oh, hey there Five, I thought you’d be busy, you know, stopping the apocalypse and all.”

“I came to get my gun, In case you forgot, I have someone to kill today.”

“Right, of course,” he hummed to himself for a moment, clearly not getting the hint that Five wanted him to leave, “won’t that look a little suspicious though, I mean, you’re a little schoolboy walking down the street with a hunting rifle,” he giggled, “might turn some heads.”

Five knew that Klaus was just trying to get on his nerves, it was one of his very few talents, but Five didn’t rise to the bait. He only sighed and walked over the threshold, Klaus’ eyes trained on him all the while.

“Where did you get this?”

“What?” He sighed, not looking forward to another trivial discussion.

“The briefcase.” Five’s stomach turned. “What about it? I got it from my employers, same place Hazel and Cha-Cha got their’s.”

“Looks a bit battered up though, wouldn’t you say, not like Chazel and Ha-ha’s at all.” He looked up and began muttering to himself, as if an invisible person was standing by his side - maybe there was. “See, I’m not traumatised, I don’t even remember their names,” he laughed, hollow and forced. Five rolled his eyes.

“Get to the point, Klaus, I’m kinda busy here.”

“I just want to know who’s briefcase this is. See this,” He held up the broken off piece of the latch, waving it in the air, “I found this in the middle of a battlefield in the Vietnam war.” Five shrugged his shoulders, doing is best to feign disinterest.

“Huh,” Klaus murmured, studying Five’s expression, “you’re not surprised?”

“What are you talking about?” He was on edge, had he slipped up, was it possible that Klaus knew something?

“Well, I never told you I served in Vietnam, all I said was that I went back in time.” Shit. “You’re smart Five,” he continued, a smirk on his face at catching Five out, “but you’re not a mind reader - as far as I know anyway. And if you are I think you’re obligated to tell me because my thoughts are pretty fucked up and I’ll have to remember to tone them down for your young, naive ears.” Again, that laughter, the sound that masked the truth - that his mind was falling apart.

Five tried his best to mask his shock and think up a quick reply, but it was too late, his expression had already betrayed him. “Look Klaus, you’re a mess, I know it, you know it, we all know it,” Klaus nodded eagerly, smiling fondly to himself. Was this man capable of taking anything seriously? “You told me about Vietnam,” he lied, “you probably just forgot about it.”

“Did I?” He asked quietly, to no one in particular. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He rounded on Five again, dragging himself to his feet. “Tell me the truth Five, it’s okay, I’m not Luther. I’m not going to lecture you about how,” he pouted, puffing our his chest and putting on a comically deep voice, “murder is wrong, number Five.” He paused, obviously expecting Five to laugh. “Okay,” he shrugged, murmuring under his breath again, “tough crowd. At least I know you appreciate me.” A moment of silence, then Klaus hissed at the empty air.

Five was starting to panic. If Klaus really did suspect him, why on earth was he being so cool about it? He knew that Klaus used humour as a coping mechanism, it was his defining characteristic, but this was a step on the side of lunacy. “What are you getting at?” He said, coldly.

“I’m just saying, if you killed this bastard, I want to know!” He exclaimed. Five realised he wasn’t talking about Dave. He thought that Five had killed the previous owner of the briefcase, the agent that he suspected had killed Dave instead. It hurt, a twist like a knife to the gut, that Klaus hadn’t even entertained the idea that Five had been the one to pull the trigger. “Come on Five,” he cooed, “did you kill the bastard who owned this case?”

“I did... in a way.” Because the man that Klaus had become was dead, fifty years of his life gone in a moment. Fifty years of happiness... But it had to be done. Allison and Diego would be back any second now with the information he needed, if he could just stomach this conversation for a moment longer, he could leave facing the consequences to another day. For now, it was essential that they all stick together, no matter if all that held them in place was lies.

“Well, congratulations man,” Klaus’ earnest smile made Five feel sick. He trusted him, completely. Klaus looked down at the floor, the light in his eyes suddenly drained out. “But that means,” he murmured, “that means it really was my fault.”

“What?” Five asked.

“Well, if those guys go around correcting the timeline, then they were there for me - God I was so selfish,” he put his head in his hands, burying his face, trying to hide away. “I thought I could just stay there and forget about all of this and I loved him and then... he died for it. He died because of me. This is all my fault.” His shoulders shook with silent sobs. It tore Five apart. “Why do I have to ruin everything?” He muttered, breaking down. “Why couldn’t I just leave him alone, he was better off, everything would be better off if I just-“

“Klaus.” Five said, trying to get through to him.

Klaus seemed to remember that Five was standing there, watching all of this unfold. “Fuck, Five I’m sorry,” he sniffed, trying compose himself, “thanks for what you did, even though you didn’t do it for me or anything, I mean, why would anyone do that?” He laughed again, that same hollow, pleading cry for help.

“Don’t say that,” he muttered, but Klaus didn’t seem to hear. “Please, please don’t say that,” because Five could feel his will unravelling.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so useless with this whole apocalypse thing,” Klaus said, “I’ll get my shit together, okay? I’ll actually be useful for once, just give me something to do.” And there it was, Five had him right where he wanted him - but he couldn’t take it. He’d been a fool to think that forty-five years away from this place had desensitised him to all the weakness that came with love and empathy. Despite everything he’d tried to bury, when loving had been too painful, Five still cared. It was as if two facets of himself were locked in a game of tug of war, the part that had suffered through the future and knew what had to be done, and the part that couldn’t stand seeing his brother broken like this; the way he blamed himself and felt indebted to him despite the damage Five had done to him. Was the world worth this? No matter the cost, he decided that it was.

Klaus was still standing there, smiling tearfully, and despite everything that Five stood for, that to love was reckless, that it brought only danger and pain, that the truth was worshipped like a false idol, relative, irrelevant, his to twist to more important ends... he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“It was me,” He muttered, barely more than a whisper. Klaus looked at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. There was no turning back now. “I killed Dave.”

#tua #the umbrella academy #ua #umbrella academy #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #klaus hargreeves #au #roleswap #five hargreeves #number five #the seance #klave #dave katz #ben hargreeves #angst

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daringyounggrayson · 5 years

Note

hi! if you'd like, could you write something with 23 and/or 25 and/or 28 and birdflash? thank you

Wow, these have only been in my inbox for a century. Anyway, thanks anon and @malepresentingleg for the prompts!

I’m going to be filling 9: “My head hurts.” and 25: “I’m scared.” Enjoy the fic! (Also on AO3)

i’m screaming like a canary in a coal mine but you still can’t hear me

Dick wakes up on a dirt floor. His head hurts, he feels dizzy, and he’s—nauseous maybe? He doesn’t feel right, and his body feels like it’s taken a beating recently. He forces his eyes open, but it’s too dark to really see anything in detail. He slides his hand down to one of his pouches and pulls out a glow stick, cracking it so that a glowing red light shines across his surroundings. About a foot away from his face is his comm, but—just his luck—it’s been crushed.

Something in his stomach drops; he needs help, and now his one mode of communication is gone. He picks up the useless device and places it in one of the pockets, hoping that he isn’t too far away from home.

He pushes himself up and into a standing position, holding onto the wall for support. He stumbles forward (and he does mean stumble; he thinks there’s something wrong with his leg), just barely remaining upright. He keeps one hand against the wall as he walks through what he thinks is some kind of mine. The details of how he got there are fuzzy to say the least, but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s missing someone and that someone else (someone bad) is after them.

The first unknown is answered when Dick turns a corner to find Bruce lying on his side.

“Batman!” he cries out, running to him and falling back down on his knees to shake him. “Batman, can you hear me?”

No response.

He checks for a pulse and breathing, which are both there and fine. Pulse steady and slow, breathing deep and even, almost like he’s just sleeping. He leans in to get a closer look at Bruce’s face only to find wide eyes staring into the middle-distance. “Bruce?” he asks insistently, giving the man’s shoulder another shove.

Dick sits back on his heels, trying not to panic. He has to get them out of here, but walking was hard enough before, and now he’s going to have to carry Bruce out of here. And without a map or any memory of getting here, that’s going to be very difficult.

Good thing difficult isn’t impossible.

He leans forward and drapes Bruce’s arm over his shoulder, and then he hoists both of them up. Even with Dick’s latest growth spurt, Bruce is still a lot taller than him, and he packs way more muscle. Luckily, Bruce is capable of holding some of his own weight. He leans heavily on Dick, though, but at least he takes a step forward when Dick does. Whatever catatonic state he’s been placed in, at least it’s one where he’s complicit. Small mercies.

“Okay,” Dick says, taking another shaky step forward, “we’re just going to keep moving until we find an exit. Easy.”

He doesn’t know how long they’re walking, but he feels like he’s just getting more lost. He knows that if he keeps walking, eventually he’ll find an exit. He just has to stick it out, one painful step after the other. One foot, then the other, one foot, then the—

He kicks something, the sounds of metal clattering against the ground echoing through the tunnel. He leans over with his glow stick stretched out to get a closer look, and a grin spreads over his face: it’s a communicator.

He sets Bruce down and goes to pick it up. He didn’t even think to check Bruce for one—damn his head is fuzzy—and if he had, he would’ve known to look for it on the ground. He’s lucky he didn’t step on it, he’s lucky he kicked it. Had he been one foot over, he never would’ve found it and they would’ve been screwed. But none of that matters because he has a working communicator! Sure, it’s a little banged up, but definitely fixable. He toys with the wires for a few minutes, and when it looks right, he pops it in his ear. He turns the knob to their usual channel, but all he gets is static.

It’s not the worst thing, he tells himself. It’s working, they’re just in too deep to get a good signal. If he keeps walking (as long as he’s actually heading towards an exit and not just deeper into the cavern), eventually he’ll get a signal. He’ll get help, he’ll get them out. He just has to keep moving.

oOo

“Please find a signal, please find a signal,” Dick finds himself repeating under his breath after what must have been ten minutes of nothing. He’s messing with the knob again, just trying to get any signal to connect. It’s been minutes and he’s still getting nothing. He should probably just leave it alone, or maybe he should turn around and try to—

“Hello?”

He knows that voice almost as well as he knows his own.

“KF, thank god!” The connection is still a little staticky, but it’s there. “Can you track my signal and get a location?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a second,” is Wally’s immediate response. “Wanna fill me in on what’s happening, Rob?”

“Not entirely sure,” Dick admits, pace slowing down. He’s tired, and now that he knows someone is going to come for them, finding an exit on his own doesn’t feel as urgent. “I woke up in what I’m pretty sure is a mineshaft. Batman is in some kind of catatonic state and I don’t think I can carry him much longer.” And Dick’s headache is getting worse, but that’s not a priority, so he doesn’t mention it. Wally has enough information. They’re going to get a medical evac and he can deal with it then. Everything is going to be fine.

“We really need to get new internships,” Wally jokes.

“No kidding.” Dick forces himself to take a few more steps.

“Does anyone know you’re missing?”

“I don’t know. Probably? You’re the first person I was able to reach, and I’m guessing our locators are down.” He did try pressing his panic button a while ago, but it didn’t even blink back at him.

“I’ll call Agent A in a minute; he’s probably worried.” Dick hums in agreement, takes another step. “Got it! Okay, you were right about the mineshaft thing. You’re also not even in Gotham; actually, you’re kind of close to me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, about thirty minutes out. I’m on a JLA thing with Flash and a few others.”

“Can’t wait to hear about it. Guessing that means it’s daytime up on top?”

“Yup. I have your line saved, just keep it open. I’m going to call Agent A and find Flash to tell him what’s going on. Sit tight.”

Dick takes it literally and sits down on the ground, leaning Bruce next to him against a wall. “You’re the best.”

“I know.” And then Wally’s voice is gone, leaving only static.

oOo

When Wally comes back, he doesn’t have good news.

“Okay, so talked to Agent A and I have good news: you actually went on a daytime field trip and have only been gone for about four hours. Communication went down about two hours ago, but that wasn’t entirely surprising. You were also after Simon, so that probably explains your memory loss and Batman’s current state.”

That’s not too bad, two hours isn’t bad. “And?”

“And the not so great news is that the mineshaft you’re in has been shut down because of carbon monoxide.”

“That’s not good,” Dick groans and gets to work on standing back up. How long does it take for that stuff to be deadly? It depends on the levels, he supposes. He should watch for symptoms, but he for some reason he can’t remember the warning signs. He needs to get up and move. How long was Wally gone? How long has he just been sitting here, killing himself and Bruce?

“No kidding. Flash was able to find a map of the place, and you’re not too far from an exit. Doubt the lift is still running, but you have grapples on you, right?”

Dick checks. “Yeah. Which way?”

“North.” Dick pulls out a compass, grateful that Bruce forces him to carry one even though Dick had rolled his eyes at first.

“Cool, we’ve been heading in that direction, actually.” Another small mercy, Dick supposes.

He starts walking again, Bruce feeling heavier than before.

“You’re not having any symptoms, are you?”

“Of what?”

“Uh, carbon monoxide poising? Headache, shortness of breath, that sort of thing?” Wally prompts.

Oh, right, those symptoms. “Headache for sure. Kind of dizzy, and my breathing is—” How is his breathing? It’s kind of laborious, but he’s also carrying Bruce. “—not as easy as usual, but not terrible.”

“And I think you’re starting to get some confusion there, dude,” Wally adds. “How long have you had the headache?”

“Woke up with it. Not sure how long ago that was, though. Maybe half an hour? Forty-five minutes.” He feels like he’s been walking for hours, but that can’t be right.

“And Batman?” Wally asks.

“He seems fine, but I can’t really tell,” Dick admits before unwillingly crashing down to the ground.

“What was that?” Wally asks.

“Nothing, just fell,” Dick says. “I think I hurt my leg.”

“In the fall?”

“No, before. Woke up and it was like this,” Dick explains and stands back up. One foot, then the other, one foot, then the other. Again and again, and soon they’ll be at the exit with fresh air and sunlight and medical attention and Wally.

“And you’ve been carrying Batman on it?” Wally asks.

“There’s not exactly another choice, is there?” Dick rubs his eyebrows. He would kill for a nap right now.

“Right, sorry.” There’s a pause. “I don’t like not knowing whether or not you’re okay.”

“Me neither,” Dick says, tries to take a deep breath.

“We’re already on our way; twenty-six minutes,” Wally tells him. “You’re doing great, just keep moving. Love you.”

Dick tries to fake a smile even though Wally’s not actually around to see it. “Love you more.”

oOo

“My head hurts.” He sounds pathetic, but it’s true. Every step makes it pound more, and holding up Bruce is too hard. He feels like he’s going to fall over, and he just needs a break. Five minutes to catch his breath and sit.

“I’m sorry,” Wally comforts from the other line. “But you need to keep going, okay?”

“I’m trying.” He is. But he’s so tired, and Bruce is so heavy.

“The opening should be right around the corner.”

And it is. He gets to the opening Wally was guiding him to, but there’s a problem. A big problem.

“No, no, no, no,” he’s saying, eyes wide as he stares at the debris filling what was supposed to be their exit.

“What is it? What’s happening?” Wally sounds urgent, but Dick doesn’t really process it.

Dick sets Bruce down on the ground faster than he should be capable of right now and practically runs to giant the pile of rock and dirt, landing on his knees hard enough to bruise before he starts to desperately claw at the barricade. “The lift—it’s-it’s caved in. There’s no way out. We’re trapped.” They’re trapped, they’re trapped!

“Okay, okay, stay calm. I’m almost there. Thirteen minutes.”

“How are you going to get us out? We can’t use explosives or we’ll blow the whole place up!”

“We can dig you out.”

“We don’t have time,” Dick argues, and they don’t. The air is getting hard to breathe, and the exertion caused by digging isn’t helping. Everything hurts, he’s tired—he’s going to die. They’re going to die. “I don’t know what else to do.”

Feeling defeated, he stops his digging and sinks down to lie on the floor, already too dizzy and out of breath to go on.

“All you have to do is stay calm and preserve your air. Martian Manhunter was already on his way to help with Batman, so he can just levitate the rocks to get out safely. We’re going to get you out and everything’s going to be okay.”

Except it’s not, because Dick feels like he’s dying and Bruce is unresponsive and his last glow stick is dying out. He’s alone in the dark with a pile of rocks keeping him trapped in what he’s sure will soon become his tomb. He’s can’t see how he’s going to get out of this, and he’s scared. “I’m … Wally, I’m scared.”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Wally says again. “You’re fine, the situation is just a little overwhelming. But we can handle it, you can handle it.”

Maybe, and Dick wants to believe him, he does—but. Dick feels trapped, and his vision is starting to fade (has been fading). He feels like he’s used up all of his optimism and now he’s having a hard time believing Wally. And Bruce, he was supposed to get him out of this. That’s Robin’s job, to protect Batman. But he failed, and now this is his punishment.

“Bruce?” Dick tries calling. He crawls over to the man, bumping against his shoulder. “Bruce, please, snap out of it.”

“Di—er, Robin. Listen, Batman can’t hear you right now. Just try to stay calm, okay?” Wally says, but his voice is being drowned out by the rushing in Dick’s ears. Why won’t Bruce wake up? Why won’t he listen to him? Can’t he hear him screaming?

He lies back down on the ground, this time right up next to Bruce. It makes him feel like a little kid instead of the sixteen-year-old that he is, but he doesn’t care. He’s tired, his chest and his head hurt, everything hurts. He’s scared and he wants his dad.

“I’m going to get you out of there, I promise,” Wally tells him.

Dick doesn’t answer, just squeezes his eyes tighter and scrambles through the darkness for Bruce’s hand.

“Robin, just say something,” Wally pleads. “Dick, please?”

But even if Dick wanted to say something back, he wouldn’t have been able to. He was already asleep.

oOo

Through closed eyelids, Dick can sense a sudden brightness. Still, he can’t move, not even to squint his eyes tighter against the unpleasant light.

“Robin!”

That’s him, he should probably answer that. But he can’t quite break the surface of consciousness.

Something pushes against his neck. “… breathing … lips … blue.” Words come in and out as he fades in and out of awareness. It’s hard to focus, and none of it makes sense. He can’t tell if it’s just one voice or a hundred. It wouldn’t make a difference to him, he just wants them to be quiet and let him sleep.

His body is lifted upward, and he feels colder and dizzier than before.

“… he’ll … oxygen … get … then Batman.”

He feels that upward pull again, but this one lasts longer and makes his stomach flip. He feels himself gag, and on reflex, he turns his head to the side just before he vomits and retches. Someone’s setting him on the ground and rubbing his back, the world is starting to make sense again.

“You’re alright,” a man is telling him. “I’ve got him, take care of Batman.”

“Can’t breathe,” Dick says, chocking on his words before vomiting again. He’s so dizzy.

Someone squeezes his hand. “Hey, you’re okay. Got you out, just like I promised.” Wally.

Dick moves his head to lean against Wally’s shoulder, and Wally accepts him and rubs his arm.

“Robin?” It’s a JLA paramedic. “I’m just going to check you over and then we’ll get you and Batman to the Watchtower.”

Dick nods as she slips what must be an oxygen mask over his face. He tries to stay awake to answer questions, but his eyelids fall shut before he can even process the first one.

oOo

When he wakes up—really wakes up—he’s in a bed with something simultaneously squeezing and rubbing over his hand. There’s also something on his face and trailing down to his upper chest. He remembers hearing snippets of conversations, back at what must have been the medical evac, and then later at what must have been triage. He can’t remember details, just voices and freckles.

“Mmm,” Dick groans as he pulls his eyes open. He’s feeling better, he thinks, but still not great. His head still hurts, and his leg feels weird. Cold.

The something around his hand—another hand, he realizes—squeezes tighter and stops rubbing. “Dick?”

Freckles and red hair. Wally. “Hey,” Dick says slowly, meeting his eyes. “You got us out.”

“Don’t say you doubted the great Wall-man,” Wally says with a wink and Dick smiles and rolls his eyes. “You feeling okay?”

“I think so,” Dick says. He lifts his free hand to feel what’s on his face: an oxygen mask with a bag attached at the bottom; it must be a non-rebreather then. He rolls his leg to test it out, finding the coldness to be from a bag of ice. No cast, so probably just a bad bruise. He’ll take it. “Where’s Bruce?”

“Over there,” Wally says, gesturing at another bed with his chin, and Dick turns his head to follow. “Martian Manhunter says he’ll be out for another few hours, though.”

“But he’s okay?” He has a non-rebreather mask on his face, too. His eyes are closed now, which Dick thinks is an improvement over those piercing yet unseeing eyes.

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. Just needs some time to recover after Simon. Martian Manhunter checked you over, too. He said you were brain blasted—”

“Would that explain the lingering headache?”

Wally gives him a sort of shrug-nod. “Toss-up between that and the carbon monoxide poisoning. Luckily neither were too bad and there shouldn’t be any permanent damage.”

“Yeah.” Something still doesn’t make sense though. “I don’t get why he put B in a catatonic state when he just knocked me out.”

“Apparently, Batman regained consciousness pretty quickly and freaked out on them, so Simon retaliated and did something that would be more permanent. Nothing Martian Manhunter couldn’t fix, though,” Wally is quick to add.

“Huh.” Dick pulls his eyes off of Bruce and looks at Wally again. “Time frame on memory recovery?”

“Martian Manhunter said he would be in later to help with that part, but he wanted to wait until you were feeling better and could think clearly.”

“How long ago did we get back?”

Wally looks over at the wall where a digital clock is hanging. “A little less than an hour ago, but you’ve only been in an actual room for maybe thirty minutes, and Bruce just got here, like, ten minutes ago or something.”

“Someone should probably call Alfred,” Dick says.

“Already filled him in. He’ll pick you guys up once you’re cleared,” Wally says.

“You really took care of everything.”

“I try,” Wally says, the corners of his mouth flicking up into a soft smile.

“Thanks, for getting us out,” Dick says, reaching for Wally’s hand again.

“Course, but you did all the work.”

Without the map—without Wally’s encouragement—Dick thinks he would’ve just stopped moving. He would’ve given up. They’d be dead if it wasn’t for Wally. “Sit with me?”

Wally climbs up onto the bed next to Dick and wraps his arms around him. Dick leans into the hold, letting his head find a comfortable spot under Wally’s chin. It feels warm and safe, and even though Dick doesn’t really feel that tired anymore, he finds himself starting to doze off again.

“Kind of sucks that you have to get hurt for us to be able to hang out,” Wally’s voice rumbles, and though the sentence sounds like it comes from a place of annoyance, his tone is absent of that feeling.

“What are you talking about? We hang out,” Dick counters. As he says this though, he’s trying to think about the last time the two of them hung out. Actually hung out, not just seen each other on missions.

“No, we make plans to hang out,” Wally corrects. “I’m not mad; we’ve both been busy. But I’m about to head off to college, and I feel like I never see you anymore, and that’s not going to get better.”

“We’ll see each other. We could start date night or something.”

“You work at night,” Wally points out. “Besides, you have homework and stuff. Plus, you’re still working on that sleep thing, aren’t you?”

“Okay, date afternoon then,” Dick says, ignoring Wally’s last comment. “I guess we haven’t really been making time for each other.”

“Not your fault.”

“Well it’s not yours either.” He’s missed Wally, too. Texting and random video calls aren’t cutting it. “We should do something this weekend.”

“It’s Sunday,” Wally says with a soft laugh. “And I think you’re stuck here for at least a few more hours, babe.”

“They make oxygen tanks with wheels now,” Dick says, pushing away from Wally to sit up on his own.

“Ooh, fancy. This place has everything,” Wally replies, leaning forward onto Dick’s back.

“Where’s my suit?” If they’re leaving, he’s not going in a gown.

“I really think you’re supposed to stay in bed and rest,” Wally argues, pulling Dick back so they’re resting against the pillows again. Wally has a piece of Dick’s hair and twirling it between his fingers. “I don’t know why, something about oxygen deprivation.”

“I wasn’t going to leave the Watchtower, and I’ll even take these monitors with me,” Dick bargains.

“Sitting,” is all Wally says.

“You’re working against me here,” Dick complains, but he’s accepting that they’re not leaving the room. “I’m just trying to give you a date night.”

“We can do that here.”

Yeah, but Dick doesn’t really want to hang out in the room where Bruce still isn’t conscious and Bruce. He doesn’t want to think about the mine anymore.

“Come on, we can watch a movie or something,” Wally says, rocking Dick a little when he doesn’t respond. “Di-ick.”

“Fine,” Dick gives in, but he’s smiling a little when he does. Wally’s cute when he whines like that. “But next weekend we’re doing something. Actually doing something.”

“Promise.”

And Wally always keeps his promises.

#young justice #dick grayson #robin #wally west #kid flash #birdflash #dickwally #elizabeth writes

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thedemonshavemisplacedtheirgod · 5 years

Text

The Demons Have Misplaced Their God - Part 2

“Get us out, get us out, get us out!” Harley’s screeching was not, in fact, helping, but he seemed to think it was.

Brian grabbed half of a porcelain plate from a dumpster knocked sideways onto the ground as they ran, and smashed it over Harley’s head. It only made him more hysterical.

“WHY DID YOU DO THAT? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? YOU COULD HAVE KNOCKED ME OUT! THEY WOULD CATCH ME! I WOULD DIE! WHY DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE?”

“Because you won’t SHUT! UP!” Brian looked like he was about to continue when Nate grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him into an open doorway, covering his mouth with his hand. Remy grabbed Harley in a similar fashion, but Harley seemed to get over his need to destroy his own vocal chords and did not need to be smothered. The four slowed their breaths and listened to the sounds of footsteps--multiple people running after where they’d been shouting.

The hunters almost ran right past their admittedly rather terrible hiding place, but pivoted on their feet to face them. Time slowed around them and instead of whipping out their weapons and killing them instantly, they sluggishly reached for their knives and guns.

Nate released Brian and sauntered over, reaching into their pockets and removing anything of interest, either breaking it or keeping it, tossing the broken, useless remains onto the ground. The hunters’ faces moved achingly slowly in reaction--horror, annoyance, the like. A few of the group had the audacity to look afraid.

“It’s almost like they’ve never fought a demon before,” Remy noted, chuckling. With a wave of his hands they all fell asleep, oh-so-slowly falling to the ground in varying levels of discomfort. They would awake once the demons were good and far away.

“Why don’t we just kill them?” Brian whined.

“Do you want a whole pack of hunters after us, instead of a few strays?” Remy asked. Brian backed down, but grumbled under his breath.

“We can’t feed from them anyways,” Nate muttered. “They’ve poisoned themselves. Drank holy water.”

Remy let out a string of curses that would singe any self-respecting angel’s ears. “What the hell else are we supposed to eat? The people here are too damn paranoid to go out at night. And unless you wanna get maced, I don’t think we should try any of the dealers around here.”

Harley huffed. “Can’t even try a decent prostitute. Stupid city council cracking down on it being illegal, and all.”

“I mean, there’s that homeless shelter downtown,” Brian said. “We could try breaking in. They’re probably all asleep anyway.”

“I actually looked into that the other day,” Nate spoke. “They’ve got a silent alarm. We wouldn’t even know it before the cops were on us. And these days, they’re worse than the hunters.”

The rest muttered sounds of agreement as an uneasy silence settled on them like a sticky child’s blanket. As in, they really would rather be doing anything than continue to be touching such a silence.

“So…” Brian bounced on his heels. “What are we gonna eat?”

Nate and Remy met at the turn of the century, at a millennium new year’s party. There were a few raised eyebrows exchanged, at first. After all, they both wore the same sunglasses indoors, and both wore leather jackets--although Nate kept his sleeves rolled up to his elbows at all times. Aesthetic was and is a crucial part of both of their lives, so the fact that they matched was an unpleasant revelation. And as they met in the corner of the room to discuss such pleasantries as who would be leaving and coming back in another outfit, they both recognized the indisputable, if hidden via powerful glamour, aura of a demon.

As the ball dropped in Times Square and on the TV, the humans around them cheered and drank and Nate and Remy removed their sunglasses for the first time that evening and made out until the last of the human partiers vomited onto the couch and resolved to fix her alcohol problem this year. (She didn’t, but it’s the thought that counts, and at least she got the two weirdos in the back to stop snogging each other and leave.)

Their apartment didn’t have a lock, but it did exude residual demonic energy, and that worked well enough to ward off potential burglars. Not that they had much worthy of pilfering. Harley jiggled the door handle and slammed his full body weight into the door in an attempt to budge the stubborn thing. Remy leaned against the doorframe and ‘helped’ until it actually opened, and the four went in.

Inside, a dented old red boombox played ‘Best of Queen’, and a pair of identical young boys played Mario Kart on the stolen TV. They didn’t bother to look up at the adults as they wandered in. Nate sat on the couch next to them, humming in mild amusement as one boy blue-shelled the other.

“Not sure how you can win or lose this one, Jobe,” Nate ruffled one boy’s hair, laughing as he was swatted away.

The game ended and the duo turned to their brother in the same kind of unison one would expect of twins in a horror movie, but not in real life.

“Did you bring food?” The image of two boys blurred until it seemed as though there may not have been any boys on the ratty old couch at all, and maybe it was just a smudge on your glasses? Only for the smudge to reform itself into one singular boy in-between where the separate boys sat, holding both controllers.

“No luck,” Nate admitted. From somewhere in the barren kitchen, (for though food was a luxury, it was not one they could afford) he heard a frustrated huff that could have been from any of the other three housemates.

Jobe frowned, then tried to hide it, then decided it wasn’t worth it and just frowned. “We’re all gonna to starve at this rate!”

“Nah,” Nate reached out and took one of the controllers from the younger’s hand. “Ain’t gonna happen. Wanna play against someone who isn’t you?”

“Finally. Do you know how hard it is to beat myself?!”

“You’re such a braggart.”

Jobe was a surprise. But he was Nate’s baby brother, and while it may be the norm for humans, siblings are spectacularly rare among demonkind. (This is for various reasons, including but not limited to: demonkind’s lack of loyalty to former partners, often betraying each other before the opportunity to reproduce presents itself a second time, as well as their general dislike of children, particularly demonic ones.) So Remy accepted that as long as he and Nate were… whatever they were, he’d have to be around Jobe.

It turned out to be easier than he thought.

“I didn’t picture you as good with kids,” Nate had a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair still dripping from his shower. Remy looked up from the carpet, where he and Jobe had taken toothpicks and rubber bands to set up a witchburning with Barbie as the accused. As it was, Elmo the witch hunter had already burned such known witchcraft practitioners as Potato Head Man, all three of the minions, and a particularly feisty Beanie Baby who had laid a curse upon all of Elmo’s descendants that probably wouldn’t come into play until after Jobe had taken a bath. However, the townsfolk were starting to get suspicious of Elmo’s credibility, as Barbie is a well-respected figure across all cultures. (That part had been Jobe’s idea, and Remy had wholeheartedly agreed. Elmo was getting greedy, and greedy humans--or muppets--had to pay eventually.)

“Sorry, we borrowed your cigarette lighter,” Remy handed back the object in question, gesturing to the melted remnants of one of Potato Head Man’s arms. “We’re having a witch hunt.”

Nate nodded solemnly, handing the lighter back to the closest of his five brothers, two of whom decided to reform one, bringing the count back down to four Jobe. (The plural of Jobe, of course, is Jobe. This is because no matter how many of him there is, at the end of the day Nate only has one brother, even if there are several of him.)

“I always knew the minions were something unholy,” he commented, heading back to his room to get into his pajamas.

After some cajoling, Jobe eventually went to bed, leaving the four adults to ponder their tragically familiar situation over the kitchen countertop.

“I’ve heard LA’s got a pretty good food chain system going,” Harley suggested.

“Big cities, easy no-go. Besides, I heard that’s a rumor the local hunting family there’s been spreading,” Brian rested his head in his hands, staring down at the fake marble as if it had snatched away his only birthday present.

“Ontario’s been quiet lately,” Remy mused dryly.

Harley shivered. “Canada’s too cold for me.”

“You don’t have to come,” Brian rolled his eyes.

“Please. What would you do without me?”

“Sleep, maybe.”

“Shut up,” Remy took off his sunglasses, rubbing his forehead to stave off a headache. “Nate? Anything?”

“...Orlando?”

“Big city, same problems,” Brian repeated.

“Florida’s not too bad, though. Not a lot of hunting.” Remy considered it. It could be nice. Maybe they could take Jobe to Disney. He’d be ecstatic.

“That’s because all the humans down there are old,” Brian huffed. “It’d be so… boring.”

“Boring is good, though.” Nate spoke to Harley and Brian, but he’d moved his sunglasses onto his head, and his eyes were having a silent conversation with the other leather-clad demon. “Boring is safe.”

Harley and Brian shared their own look: one of mutual distaste for the inherently romantic route this conversation had involuntarily taken.

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tysonrunningfox · 5 years

Text

Ripped: Part 4

Ok, but actually, just..............this. Just..............get in on this

Ao3

Hiccup and Heather found the Johann connection while she was helping him research his book. It started, like most of his best ideas, as a joke while he was sifting through Sergeant Johanssen’s notes on the Grimborn case. Johann was by all metrics, insufferable and attention-seeking, and as hard as it is to define the character of people who’ve been dead over a hundred years, the sheer number of mostly useless anecdotes he made officers sit through speaks for itself. It was late in his Dad’s office when Hiccup flopped back and griped that if Johann was sadistic enough to make the Sergeant sit through one more tale about morality and cattle, maybe he was sadistic enough to murder and mutilate a series of prostitutes.

Heather laughed, but something about it stuck with both of them because they kept looking into it anyway, as silly as it was, pulling the string to see what was there. There are no shortage of primary sources citing Johann using the murders to sell more bibles, aiming to cleanse the streets of moral filth by educating them about the might of the lord.

As a theory, it holds out further than most. In fact, there’s nothing to disprove it. Johann was in Berk during all of the Grimborn murders. A couple of the Grimborn letters even have phrases in common with notes taken on Johann’s witness accounts. It’s entirely plausible that a bible salesman in the late eighteen eighties killed a string of loose women in a violent campaign to impose morality on Downtown Berk, but there’s absolutely no way to prove it.

That’s where Hiccup and Heather started fighting about it, she couldn’t take the open end. She found random slayings in downtown Outcast Island, no mutilation, not even all prostitutes or obviously morally destitute people, and tried to start pinning them on Johann based on the fact he wasn’t noted to be in Berk that month. She was ready to pull the trigger on something definitive and she started pushing it in tours, adding in leading pauses in front of the church, where Reverend Svenson encouraged Johann to lower prices as a form of aid, rather than expanding efforts to feed the poor.

Just because there’s nothing wrong with the Johann theory doesn’t mean there’s anything right. Knowing things too well gets in the way of learning more about them, and Hiccup is in this to learn, not know.

At least, that’s a very polite and summarized version of what he yelled at Heather and quit, calling her tour a stolen heap of sensationalist garbage that warps the facts for her own vanity.

It’s ironic now that he’s approaching her out of his own vanity. After a night of bugging Snotlout about how Astrid possibly could have known about Johann and getting nothing more than grumbling, it occurred to him that maybe she took Heather’s tour to have something new to shout down at him. And well, since she already made it clear how she feels about him looking in her apartment, asking about her whereabouts in reference to Heather’s tour seems like a good way to press that harassment charge.

He gets to the Ripped Tavern a bit early a couple days after Astrid’s Johann revelation and looks for Heather. She’s at the bar, talking to her brother, and Dagur steps away when he sees Hiccup approaching, presumably warning Heather, because she turns and raises an eyebrow.

“Can I do something for you, Hiccup?” She cocks her head, “I thought I was too sensationalized for a rational person like you to need anything from me.”

“I just wanted to ask if you’re still talking about Johann.” He adjusts his bag on his shoulder, fidgeting with his laser pointer in his pocket.

“Why wouldn’t I?” She sets her jaw, “since we discovered the idea together—”

“Has anyone been particularly curious about it lately?” He cuts her off, uninterested in rehashing the fight. As long as she doesn’t publish anything without his notes, he’s content to trim the sides of Berserker tours’ profits as long as she holds out.

“Why? Did you tell someone who wanted to finish figuring it out?” She rolls her eyes and Hiccup sighs.

“She’d be about our age, blonde, moved into Elizabeth Smith’s apartment and umm, well, she’s not a fan of my tour route—”

“No blonde women have asked me about Johann while complaining about your trespassing habits,” Heather shakes her head, “I swear, if Snotlout wasn’t looking out for you—”

“Well, he is.” He doesn’t need this lecture from Heather, of all people. Back before she took herself so seriously, she’s the one who dropped through the boarded-up window at Number 31, Harbor Road to examine the third site before it got torn down to make room for condos. “And I was just wondering if anyone asked, but it sounds like no, so…thanks, have a sensational tour.” His fake bitterness doesn’t do much to her and he wishes he hadn’t said anything at all when she frowns, concerned. Hopeful. “Don’t even—”

“What if someone else figured it out? I’m not the one being too petty to publish anything, I still have all my notes.”

“Yeah and mine, how do they fit into the version of reality you tour?” He doesn’t expect an answer to that and he doesn’t get one. Letting Heather keep the notes is letting her have the last word without having a verbal WWE match in Victorian Garb, and his hat has been through enough lately already.

Heather’s tour leaves on time and Hiccup’s slips out the side door fifteen minutes after. It’s a foggy night and the girl on the spot where Mary Johnson was found squeaks and jumps into her boyfriend’s arms when she realizes. He’s a little ahead of schedule when he approaches the first site, talking a little too fast and trying not to hope that Astrid will have something to say today. Maybe something that reveals her methods or reasons.

Maybe she’ll lean out the window again and argue with him, shivering in her pajamas. He shouldn’t have noticed, and he definitely shouldn’t have remembered, especially given he had to spend the rest of that tour fending off someone asking after her theories. That should have been annoying enough for him to wish she’d stayed inside, but well, he didn’t.

It’s worse that she’s pretty in a way that makes looking directly at her difficult. Funnier for Snotlout, but worse for him.

The lights are out in her apartment though, like she’d rather find somewhere else to be than argue with him, and he steps to the side of the sandstone wall, rubbing his hand over it and remembering the first time he came here. It was the first place he stood that he knew that at some point, Viggo Grimborn stood in the exact same spot.

“Before we get a little closer to the site of the first Grimborn murder,” he pauses when he looks at the group and sees Astrid at the back of it, arms crossed and keys dangling from her hand, like she caught him on her way home. “Where we won’t enter or peek in at all, because that would be creepy.” He gives her a thumbs up and she shrugs.

“You’re talking about the ‘All Safe’ message, right?”

“Well, I was going to,” he pats the wall, focusing back on the group and remembering where he was, “right, this wall, on the morning that Elizabeth Smith’s body was found, there was a message on it, presumably left by the murderer. The officer on his morning patrol assumed it was meant for him from the officer on watch the night before, but when questioned, the night officer didn’t know anything about it.”

“And because there were no pictures taken of it, because of a rainstorm later that afternoon, the main source for the message has always been the notes from the officer who was called by a witness to discover Elizabeth Smith’s body.” Astrid excuses herself unnecessarily because the group is already splitting to look back at her, confused but used to being talked at by this point in the tour. She could thank him for the warm up, maybe, but he doesn’t think he’ll be that lucky. “So, the message, ‘All Safe’ has always been understood to be a statement, as in, behind this wall, everything is safe.” She steps up next to Hiccup, in front of the wall, fiddling with her keys like she’s nervous even as she gestures at the bricks.

“Oh, are you going to give my tour?” He doesn’t mean for the sarcasm to shut her down, necessarily, but he doesn’t expect her to shove it off, standing up straighter and looking between him and the tour group.

“I was going to fix it, if that’s ok with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The ‘All Safe’ message was not officially photographed as part of the crime scene on the morning that Elizabeth Smith was discovered murdered,” she reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper that unfolds to an eight and a half by eleven, slightly smeared, freshly printed scan of the Berk Enquirer. Judging by the font, it’s copied from a paper issued in the late eighteen hundreds, but Hiccup doesn’t recognize it. He tends to stay away from the Enquirer, because he got done with stories about Viggo Grimborn running away with the Loch Ness monster. “But, a back-page story broke in the Enquirer on the same day as the investigation began, and the ‘All Safe’ message is clear in the background.”

“What?” Hiccup stops short, reaching reflexively for the paper, but she holds it over her head away from him, eyes flicking between his and his hat.

“Well, if you didn’t know about this, I guess I am going to have to give the tour.” She offers him the picture and when he takes it, snatches his hat off of his head and puts it on herself. “Which means I need the stupid tour outfit.”

“Hey!” Hiccup reaches for his hat back but looks at the picture at the same time, his indignance and his hand pausing in unison when he angles the grainy image under the street lamp and clearly sees the chalk text of ‘All Safe’ written on the wall where they’re standing. “Oh my God.”

“As I was saying, when you actually see the famous ‘All Safe’ message, it’s obvious that it’s something else entirely.” She nods decisively, the too big top hat tilting forward over her forehead, “it doesn’t say ‘All’, it says Al, I. It’s a signature.”

“How did you find this?” He traces it with a fingertip.

“Aren’t you going to pass it around to the group?” She adjusts his hat, and he swallows hard, nodding a little too quickly and exhaling a suddenly obvious puff of steam into the cold air.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, presumably it’s a signature apparently announcing that one Al, last name starting with I, was safe at the wall the morning of November eleventh, eighteen eighty-three. And the assumption has always been that it was connected with the Grimborn murders, because Elizabeth Smith was automatically considered the first Grimborn victim.” She starts pacing a couple of steps back and forth, hands clasped behind her back, and she’s mocking him, sure, but she’s teasing him too.

And she brought him new Grimborn evidence and it makes him wonder if she figured out about Johann herself, and that thought makes it kind of hard to breathe.

“But, I’d like to present an alternate hypothesis,” she turns to Hiccup, in particular, blue eyes on fire and he feels like he can’t move. Not his foot, not his expression, which is somewhere between rejected, stunned, and thrilled. “The same night that Elizabeth Smith was killed, there was a robbery in the downstairs of 324 Harbor Road. It’s glossed over, because of the murder, but all signs point to it being a two-man job. One lookout, one person casing the basement apartment belonging to Elizabeth Smith’s brother-in-law, who she could have easily been visiting. A week later, one Alfred Ireland was caught with that brother-in-law’s monogrammed knife and arrested for breaking and entering.”

“What are you saying?” Hiccup passes the picture to the nearly forgotten tour group and the first girl looks at it with only casual interest.

“I’m saying that a man, whose name could easily be abbreviated to ‘All’ was caught after stealing a knife the very night that Elizabeth Smith was stabbed, in the upstairs of the house where her brother-in-law lived. I’m proposing that she’s not a Grimborn victim at all, but a casualty of a robbery that wasn’t meant to be anything more.” Astrid reaches up for his hat, taking it deftly off of her head and setting it back on his. Her thumb grazes his ear and he swallows hard. “So, my apartment was just unfortunate enough to be the location of some casual, run of the mill violence, and does not belong on a Grimborn tour.” She exhales and nods, obviously pleased with herself as points at the circulating picture. “You can keep that.”

“Thanks,” Hiccup’s voice cracks and he clears his throat, “thank you, umm, but—”

“Don’t you have an actual tour to start?” She waves him off as she walks to the front door of the building and lets herself in, “since this isn’t a location on it, I mean.”

“I’m confused,” a guy in the tour group cuts across Hiccup’s thoughts, “is this a location of a Grimborn murder or not.”

“I don’t—Ok, I don’t know why you guys chose my tour.” Hiccup scratches his face, feeling flushed and off kilter again, brain flitting between Astrid and Johann and evidence he’s never imagined actually seeing. “Or I do, it’s because it’s cheaper, but I like to pretend it’s because it’s less sensationalized and less…like I’m trying to spoon-feed you my own opinion of who Viggo Grimborn was or might have been.”

“It’s also longer,” a woman offers helpfully, “longer and cheaper.”

“Great. Thanks,” he laughs, “longer and cheaper, I’ll add that to the website.” He looks up at Astrid’s apartment, the light turning on behind closed blinds, her shadow moving in front of it like she’s pacing. “I’ve been studying Viggo Grimborn for about five years, I’ve read police notes and fictionalized accounts and theories that the murder was committed by anyone from the crown prince of a now defunct Scandanavian monarchy to a gang of rogue Free Masons. Most sources point to one person, most likely a man, committing at least four murders, starting in that apartment with Elizabeth Smith in November eighteen eighty-three.” He resists the urge to snatch the picture back and stare at it, to run home and compare it to his scans of letters and detectives’ writing.

“But you don’t know?” Someone else asks and Hiccup shrugs.

“I don’t, and no one ever will. There’s nothing in my knowledge saying what she just said isn’t correct, but there’s no DNA, there’s very little evidence left. Sure, the case was foundational to modern forensics, but like all foundational things, the police work was flawed and riddled with mistakes.” He gestures down the road, “let’s go to the second site, maybe the Grimborn fairy will come inform me that it was actually committed by…I don’t know, an escaped circus dragon.”

Hiccup is a little surprised that anyone follows him, but then again, he is giving them a real bang for their ten bucks. He manages to find his rhythm again at the second site, showing the gruesome pictures people love to cringe at, and walking too fast to illustrate the complicated timeline of the proposed double event. But he’s glad when it starts raining, a veritable deluge cutting off the last ten minutes of the tour and sogging the brim of his hat by the time he gets home. Usually, he hates cancelling, but tonight he’s fumbling his phone out of his pocket to update weather concerns on his site before he’s even up the stairs to his apartment.

“I thought I smelled wet goat,” Snotlout catches him in the entry way, shrugging into his uniform jacket and zipping it up.

“Good to see you too.”

“You know, because your coat is made of old goat fur or whatever.”

“Wool,” Hiccup takes off the offending coat, hoping that Snotlout doesn’t notice him sniffing it. It doesn’t smell great, he could dry clean more often, but Astrid would have assumed that’s just the smell of murder sites, right? “You’re looking for wool.”

“Whatever,” Snotlout pats his holster and checks how secure his badge is, “are you in for the night?”

“Probably,” Hiccup shrugs, “Astrid actually umm…delivered some new evidence to me, I’ve got a lot to dig into.”

“She seemed so normal, I can’t believe she’s shouting weird shit out the window at you.”

“Grimborn-ology is cool,” Hiccup dodges when Snotlout tries to put him into a headlock, laughing and shuffling backwards towards his dad’s old office, “I always told you.”

“Yeah, but I never thought it would start attracting hot girls,” he says goodnight and leaves and Hiccup lays the photo Astrid gave him out on his desk, next to his most recent, half full notebook.

The fact is he’s not good with data he didn’t find himself, he always wants to see the paper it came from or the notes themselves. The obsessive double checking of everything Heather found drove her crazy, but when he was having to back track from theories to the facts themselves, it was even more necessary. He drums his fingers on the desk for a minute and his eyes dart to an old book on the shelf, the only one he has duplicates of.

He still doesn’t know how Astrid found out about Johann. Or the chalk message.

She hasn’t come through on the harassment threat yet, and now she’s researching. And Snotlout isn’t here to tell him that going to see her is a horrible idea, and maybe it’s not, they have a shared interest.

He grabs a copy of the book, second edition, the one he found first, on the way out of the office and changes into an actual raincoat before heading out, hood pulled low over his forehead against the rain. It’s a Saturday night, chances are she won’t even be home. Maybe he could leave the book with a note in it. His number maybe, that would be a better way of communicating than her occasionally taking over his tour or shouting out windows. That’s a good way to phrase it, not too presumptive, just as a way of sharing evidence.

He’s so busy thinking through what he’s going to say and the rain is loud enough on his hood that he almost runs into two people on the sidewalk, one in an official looking black uniform that he’s really learning to hate and the other huddled under an umbrella with a heavy looking backpack.

“It’s past curfew,” the man in the uniform says, blocking an alley that the woman with the umbrella is apparently trying to walk through, “the courtyard is closed to everyone but residents.”

“I’m not trying to go through the courtyard, I’m just cutting through to the shelter.” The woman shivers, “please, it closes in ten minutes.”

“The courtyard—”

“Hi, what seems to be the problem here?” Hiccup cuts in, doing his best Snotlout’s-cop-voice impression and standing up straight.

“Neighborhood Watch Force concern,” the man in the uniform tries to brush him off, showing a pseudo-official badge that Hiccup knows to mean nothing. Snotlout complains about these guys enough, the private security employed by the condo developers to keep the streets a certain brand of clean are really starting to think they’re cops.

“I live in the neighborhood.” Hiccup points over his shoulder, “one of the brownstones back there, what’s the neighborhood concern?”

“The other side of this building is visible from The Docks,” he uses the pretentious name of the ugly condos he apparently works for, “I’ve been instructed to keep the streets empty past curfew for the safety of the neighborhood.”

“Well, I feel safe,” Hiccup turns to the woman, who’s scared and probably homeless, “I’ll walk her to the shelter, I know the guy who runs it, I can get him to open the door even if we go the long way.”

“Good, you’ll have to,” the uniform brings gravitas that doesn’t hold water and if Hiccup weren’t worried about scaring the woman further, he’d point it out.

The woman’s name is Jennifer and it sounds like she’s trying to navigate a difficult divorce, but Hiccup doesn’t pry. He delivers her to the back door of the shelter, texting Gobber to open up. His usual lecture about being late ends abruptly when Hiccup mentions his conversation with the NWF.

“No one will tell me what those pushy bastards are supposed to be allowed to do,” he shakes his head.

“They’ve been driving Snotlout crazy too,” Hiccup shrugs, “I just thought you’d want to know they’re blocking people crossing town, you might want to loosen up when you close the doors.”

“Right, like I’m not already up against their curfew laws,” Gobber rolls his eyes, “thanks lad, great advice. Oh, and by the way, speaking of driving people crazy, are you still harassing my tenants?”

“You say harassing, I say stimulating their curiosity,” Hiccup grins, “it seems I have a new source of Grimborn info. I’m heading over to talk to Astrid now.”

“She invited you?”

“She stimulated my curiosity,” he winces, stepping backwards out of the range where Gobber could cuff his ear with a cold, metal hook.

“I’m sure she did,” Gobber shakes his head, “you know, maybe I could get that NWF to keep my tenants safe too. Keep the riff-raff out of my courtyard.”

“Hey, that’s what I’m for, you want me out of a job?”

“Maybe then you’d be into a real one,” Gobber grumbles as he goes back inside and Hiccup yanks his hood back up, heading towards Astrid’s apartment the back way to avoid any more run ins. He cuts across the street at the second murder site, patting the book in his inner pocket to make sure it’s still dry and ringing the visitor bell on the front door of Astrid’s building to get temporary access.

It gives five minutes for an interior door to open, and if none do, Gobber is alerted and tonight, would know to call Snotlout, so keeping this under five minutes if necessary is probably for the best. He really just wants to drop off the book and ask Astrid a few questions, if she seems receptive. If not, there has to be another way to track down her sources, there are only so many collections with hundred year plus old Berk Enquirers.

He knocks on the door and takes a step back so that she can see him clearly through the peephole, checking his watch and vowing to leave in three minutes, no matter what. She opens the door almost immediately, wearing sweatpants with her hair braided over her shoulder and the suspicious glare he’s starting to think of as typical on her face.

“What do you want?”

“Hi,” he brushes beaded up water off of the front of his coat before unzipping it to get out the book.

“Hi, what are you doing here?” She blocks the doorway with a confidence that shows she’s not really worried about him fighting his way through, and looking at her, that’s probably fair. “You don’t have a troupe of people who want to see my living room with you, right?”

“No, I cancelled my last two tours,” he shakes his head, wet hair dripping onto the floor, “weather.”

“But you couldn’t skip your pilgrimage?” She steps back, gesturing at her mostly empty living room.

Hiccup can’t help but impose the tenant house walls over it, the pre-remodel door about six feet behind her, eternally immortalized in those first crime scene photos. There were three apartments on this floor then instead of two, and the kitchen plumbing had to go through an external add on that made the window on the far wall wider.

“I brought you a book,” he holds it out to her and she stares at it, suspect.

“Viggo Grimborn Solved: The Admiral Haddock Connection.” She reads the title and her hand twitches towards it, curious even as her face betrays nothing.

“You asked a couple weeks ago what my theory was. I told you I liked the mystery, and that’s true, but this is my favorite theory.” He waits a beat and almost pulls his hand back, but she takes the book and starts flipping through it, leaning her shoulder on the door frame.

“Admiral Hiccup Haddock?” She raises an eyebrow, “so that’s not your real name? It’s an alias or something?”

“No, it’s my real name, I’m named after him. He’s my great-great-great-great grand uncle or something, I’m not exactly sure what you call your great-great-great-great-grandfather’s brother, I probably miscounted greats—”

“Did he do it?” She frowns, looking at the publishing information. Second edition, nineteen forty-five underlined.

“Oh God no,” he laughs, “his dad had been the crown prince before the republic and then raised a son who had an esteemed navy career and retired to police work, but this guy, A. M. Mildew was absolutely sure that he spent the summer he was twenty-four murdering prostitutes in Downtown Berk. Absolutely none of it makes sense, there’s a whole passage hinting at a victory song at The Academy actually referring to this complicated web of forbidden, gay, masonic relationships.”

She raises an eyebrow and flips through, skimming his notes in the margins, “so it’s bullshit.”

“An utter, steaming pile of it.” He nods, “my favorite theory, it has my name all over it.”

“Funny,” she snorts, a dry little laugh that reaches her eyes more than the rest of her expression. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You showed me a picture I’ve been wanting to see for about five years, a picture I didn’t think existed.” He tucks his hands in his pockets, his jeans damp almost through from the rainy walk over. “And Johann was kind of my pet theory, for a while, I didn’t tell anyone but my old partner. At first, I thought you must have talked to her, but she said no. And well, it seems like you’ve been doing your own research, I was guessing—hoping, maybe—that you were curious.”

“I work part time at the archives at the university,” she sets the book inside on a shelf or table he can’t see, and it feels like a win, if not a definitive victory. “If it was all about the mystery, I thought maybe if I solved it, I could diminish some of the allure.”

“But then I come here and tell you that my favorite theory is the absolute nonsense one that I happen to be named after…”

“Any chance we could compromise on you buying me soundproof curtains?” She smiles then, not quite friendly, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes as she takes half a step forward, almost into the hallway.

“Let me give you a private tour,” he blurts, gesturing at her living room and down the stairs beside him in a combination that’s probably more jazz hands than anything else. “The real tour, the three in the morning tour, with the good stuff I leave out most of the time.”

Her brows knit together as she stands up straight, arms crossed and instantly closed off again, “no, I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” he flushes, “I thought you were maybe umm, warming up to me a little there, guess I misread that. I’ll go—”

“No, as in ‘no, I’m not going on a serial killer memorabilia tour at three in the morning with a guy I don’t know’. That sounds like a really good way to get murdered.”

“When you put it that way, that makes sense,” he looks at his shoes for a second, “you have a gift for framing things.” Which is the lamest compliment that anyone has ever given anyone and he winces.

“You keep needing me to remind you of really obvious things.” She looks like she might be about to smile again, and Hiccup can’t help but push his luck, tapping at his watch.

“Let me try, you know how time is circular?”

She frowns, “I’d say time is linear, last time I checked.”

“Ok, sure, but our understanding of a repeating twenty-four-hour day is circular.” He waits for her to nod, one shoulder shrugging slightly, “so if we follow that theory, at some point, really late becomes early. So, while staying up to meet someone to go on a Grimborn tour with some guy you barely know at three in the morning might be creepy, starting your day outlandishly early by meeting a guy who gave you a book on his family’s fake sordid history for a Grimborn tour might be totally fine.”

“Oh, so mornings I have to be at work at four-thirty, you’re saying it’s normal to add a Grimborn murder tour detour to my morning commute?”

“Four-thirty? The private tour is at least two hours.” He assures her, “and by that point it’s getting light out, which makes it even harder for it to be creepy.” He can see her thinking about it, biting her lip and looking over her shoulder at the book. “And if worse comes to worst and I default to my obviously genetic tendencies towards murder, I bet you can totally take me.” He flexes, “noodle arms.”

“I’ll…” she sighs, “I’ll let you know if I ever have a morning that early. Give me your number?”

“Yeah, sure, that’s—here,” he hands her his phone, “put yours in, I’ll text you.”

“One condition,” she passes the phone back and forth between her hands, “you aren’t going to start a daily Grimborn facts text service, are you?”

“Not until you ask me to,” he nods, “which you will, after my private tour.”

“Sure.” She hands his phone back and stares at him another second, taking a slow step backwards into her apartment. “So, I’ll let you know.”

“Right.” He nods, rezipping his jacket and steeling himself to go back into the rain, even though he doesn’t think keeping warm will be a problem this time. “Looking forward to it.”

#modern au #hiccstrid #serial killer tour guide au #httyd fic #hiccstrid fic #ripped

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