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sugako · 3 years

Text

sweetness

osamu xf!baker!reader sum: your unrequited crush on the man you sell to is weighing heavily on you until one little party later it isn’t an issue cw: 18+ minors dni, a lil fluff, a lil angst (reader is sad bc they don't think samu feels the same), mentions of drinking/alcohol/party (no one is drunk during), kinda confessions, first time with each other, nipple play, oral (receiving) wc: 3.5k a/n: hi !! uhh i have had this is drafts for months bc i struggled to post it and idk why,, it's def a little longer than usual and little more plot-heavy(ish) but i hope you all enjoy pussy king samu <3

It felt as though you were admiring him from a distance even when he was standing right beside you.

The afternoon that the owner of Onigiri Miya had called up your small bakery to partner with his business you had been overjoyed. Honestly, you were still happy, it was just tinged by something deeper or different now. You were certainly still happy to sell your goods through the business, but your feelings had really gotten the better of you.

The day, actually the moment you met Osamu you told yourself to get over the petty crush you had developed within minutes of meeting him. His big, tall frame made you feel as though he could wrap his arms around you and everything would be okay. His pretty, steely eyes and soft features relaxed you, made you feel at home.

A week later you were groaning into your pillow when he texted a simple, polite compliment about your baked goods. Desperately, you hoped that the fuzzy feeling would melt away any day now.

Every single time you had to see him again and again to drop off your bi-weekly delivery, the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they grew stronger. The quick, comfortable banter you shared made your chest fill with molten gold that always seemed to harden into a tough little peach pit, strangling the words from your throat whenever you got back into your car.

A month later you were crying to yourself at 2 AM about how you couldn’t get over him even though you hadn’t even been close to a relationship. It was impossible. How were you supposed to get closure from someone you were merely business partners with.

You cursed the way your heart sped up when you got a new text from him. Over and over again you had to remind yourself that it was purely business.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Hi, do you want to swing by tomorrow? Lunch is on me

Fingers swiped over the keyboard, groaning as you asked what you should bring for the restock, not realizing it had been two weeks already.

Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Everything is selling fast, but I won’t need anything for a bit, just wanted to chat not about business

Without hesitation you agreed. Even if you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a personal relationship with a business. The fact that he had texted you deep into the night without prompt didn’t make it into your busy mind.

Those two little texts were how you found yourself taking a deep breath outside the Onigiri Miya a little after the lunch rush. You stepped into the nearly empty building, immediately greeted by Osamu’s soft, low voice.

“I have to run to the back, but I put a plate for you out.” He calls, disappearing just as the door closes behind you.

It’s painful to admit how your heart swells at the gesture. Your favorite onigiri of his is neatly plated in front of a corner seat at the bar. The two other people on the opposite side of the store are quietly chatting, paying no mind while you settle into your seat. Before you can take a bite he’s bustling back in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, got a call.” He says, leaning over the counter in front of you. The way his broad chest is squished by his shoulders.

“No worries.” You say just before biting into the food. He snatches one of the rice balls from your plate, but your mouth is too full and you’re too grateful to protest. “So,” you begin after you swallow, “what did you want to talk about?”

You can’t tell whether the air is thick with awkward tension or if it’s just you.

“I mean, obviously not business.” As you speak, a strangled, little chuckled forces its way out of the back of your throat, but you take another bite of food before it gets out of hand.

He’s silent for a moment, slowly chewing his food. Maybe savoring it or maybe thinking, you can’t quite tell which.

“Can you take nights off from the bakery? I remember you saying ya do a lot of baking and prepping at night.” His expression is impossible to read and you want to tell him that this is, at least for you, business talk, but you hold back and simply answer the question.

“Well, yeah, if I needed to. Uh, why?” You catch how his shoulders tense and lower, his eyes shifting across the windows in the front. Unfortunately, his own anxiety does very little to quell any of your own.

“My brother is having a party and I’m… obligated to go, but I won’t know many people there, they’ll all be his teammates, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me? If you don’t have a… I mean, if you don’t have any plans.” His expression remains still, but there’s a small flush in his cheeks that you catch on immediately. Something in your heart softens with hope.

“You’re twin volleyball brother?” You ask, biting back a smile. “Also, you’ll have to tell me what time the party is and then I’ll let you know if I have plans, but I’m probably free.”

The flush deepens as he recognizes his mistake and slowly blinks, shaking his head. “Yes, ‘Tsumu, the volleyball brother. And the party is next Friday. Around nine.”

Within the limited time you’d spent with him he’d told you about his brother and his old friends. Confidence growing, but not quite steady, you uneasily treaded into your next words.

“Yeah, I’m not working next Friday actually, so that sounds good. Should I text you for the address or…?”

“Meet me here, I can take you. Best to take the train, but it’ll be easier if we go together.”

Deep in the center of the city, standing close enough to smell the soft fragrance of cologne, you still weren’t sure how easily you had ended up here at the house party filled with strangers hosted by your customer’s pro athlete brother. It was a little much to think about if you took too much pause. Before you could slip into your own brain too much your cheek smushed into the thick muscle of Osamu’s solid back that had suddenly stopped moving, and as you sputtered out an apology the door swung open without him even knocking.

“Hey! Did you really not a-” The blonde mirror image of the man standing directly in front of you eats whatever words are about to spill out of his mouth when he notices you peeking out from beside Osamu. Realizing how ridiculously childish you must look tucked away behind him, you clear your throat and step out so you’re by his side instead.

“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say politely, extending a hand for him to shake. Atsumu’s eyes flit between you and his brother, not bothering to hide a smirk.

“Oh, I know.” He finally says when he takes your hand. Out of sheer embarrassment or maybe anxiety, you feel pricks of heat chase out to your fingertips. The sensation is only compounded by Osamu’s feather-light touch that grazes the small of your back as he tries to lead you past his brother.

“Really,” you start, with a sly little smile, “he’s told me about you’re very impressive-”

“Okay.” Osamu says a little too sharply. He’s glad you’re at ease, but less glad that you’ve immediately taken to lightly teasing him with his brother. “Let’s head in.” The warm breath of his whisper jolts through you and you find yourself nodding, letting his touch lead you.

Just as the door is closing behind you and the excruciating reverb of the music seeps into your ears, you barely catch what Atsumu mumbles before he slips into the crowd of people. “Maybe you’ll finally show her how much ya like her.”

Osamu doesn’t respond, and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear him, but the way his fingers dig into your back tells you otherwise. You simply pretend that you heard nothing, pointing to the drink dispensers lined up on the kitchen counter across the room. After a quick drink of the sweet, burning mystery drink and after Atsumu started to keep his distance - too busy hounding his one teammate with the dark curls whose name you couldn’t quite remember - things went smoothly.

Time passed quickly, helped on by the dozens of new people you were introduced to. The small talk and repetitive questions had you mentally winded, but Osamu’s constant touch whether on your elbow or back or shoulder grounded you. Instead of feeling your heart race as it usually did when he was near, you only felt calm.

It all came crashing down sometime deep into the night when most of the guests had headed home and those left over passed out, scattered everywhere about the house. Well, everywhere aside from the neat guest bedroom tucked away toward the back that Osamu had pulled you back to when the last man (who had drunkenly tried teaching you how to say ‘volleyball’ in Portuguese) had finally passed out.

The single drink you had gulped down hours ago was long gone from your system, but even without it you still found it easy to speak with him, even as his arms inconspicuously wrapped around your torso and brought you down to lie beside him on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment while the two of you remained in short silence, a thought came to your head, another thing you want to tell him or ask him. You’re not sure which because in the next moment, when you whip your head to face him, he does the same.

If you had been any closer your faces would’ve smashed together. Any farther away and you wouldn’t be brushing lips. Just as soon as the touch begins, it ends with you scrambling away, stopped from falling off the bed by his strong arm wrapping around and pulling you back to his chest. The silence thickens with every second that neither of you speak, but he thankfully breaks it within the minute.

The words fumble around the front of your mouth like your mouth is numb. “I’m so sorry that-!”

“Well, that wasn’t really a proper kiss.” He says plainly, a smile barely etching its way onto the corner of his lips.

“N-no, it was not.” You whisper. It doesn’t quite feel real when he kisses you for real, and for a second you’re worried you’ve deluded yourself. You sigh into his firm touch, finally releasing the tension in your chest and letting your own lightly trembling hands trace up the space between your chests to settle against his. His body is softer than you had thought it would feel, somehow so much more comforting and homey than you could have imagined.

After an endless moment, his mouth strains against yours as he forces himself to pull away with a little huff. Your eyes find his, bright and hopeful, and still a little bit surprised. Between all your personal longing and resignation that he didn’t feel the same, you hadn’t noticed the way he smiled more when you were nearby, the little blush that dusted his cheeks when you complimented his cooking that first time, and so much more.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and letting his heavy eyes close. Hiding your grin in his chest, you nod, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling in closer. When your knee glides against his thigh in an attempt to get more comfortable and flush to him, he clears his throat. “We should get changed if we’re going to sleep here. I have extra clothes in the dresser.”

“Okay.” You nod slightly, not wanting to move just yet. He seems to be with you because, despite his own words, he remains exactly in place with his grip just as tight as ever around your waist. “...Samu?” You finally ask, pulling back far enough to look up at him.

“I wanna kiss you again.”

“Okay,” you repeat, “then kiss me again.” The crooked, giddy smile you’re giving him seems to tense him up even more.

He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes darkening as they flicker across the planes of your face. “I wanna, but I don’t want to push this unless you feel the same.”

If your tired heart could vibrate any harder it would probably be bursting out of your chest.

“Well, I feel that we should kiss again,” you press a peck to his cheek hoping it’ll steady your next vulnerable words, “because I’ve thought about you a lot, and I really like this.” You emphasize your words by glancing down at the negative space between your bodies and running your hand up the built expanse of his shoulders.

Humming, he cradles the back of your head, gracefully moving to straddle you and ghost his lips over yours. “In that case, tell me when to stop.” The hot breathy fan of air from his whisper barely hits your cheeks before he’s pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

You slot together like perfect puzzle pieces, limbs finding the just the right spots to fit into. Mouths move desperately, passionately and without thinking your fingers start dancing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the hot skin beneath. With a tempered groan, he uncouples his lips from yours, kissing along your jaw and quickly moving to trace down your neck. The kitten nips and licks against your collarbone send electricity through your bones, forcing you to flex into him, hips awkwardly jutting forward for something more.

“You… you, ah, are so perfect.” You pant, eyes blinking wide open when the calloused tips of his fingers roughly trail under your shirt, up your sides, stopping just short of your chest to flip your shirt up.

Groaning so quietly you barely hear him, he buries himself between your breasts and sighs against your skin. “Yer even more beautiful up close and without all this,” he pauses for the briefest moment to undo your bra and lift it over your head with the shirt, “extra stuff on.”

Scoffing out a short giggle, you relax back, watching how his eyes drink you in as though they’ve been starved. “By extra stuff you mea-!” The quip is promptly cut off by the feeling of his mouth latching around one breast, the other being tended to by his opposite hand. Not a moment later he pulls away, smiling as you let out a pitchy whine.

“Yer pretty mouthy when yer comfortable, huh?” He mumbles, lips ghosting over your nipple while the one in his hand continues to be teased.

“N-no,” you rush to disagree. Judging by the eye roll he gives you, he doesn’t seem to believe you, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply bringing his attention back to your chest.

The way his suckles tiny, bright purple marks into your skin sends heat pooling into your stomach, hips noticeably grinding up against him now. As the seconds drag on, he doesn’t seem interested in anything other than your tits, enamored with the way they feel in his hand and mouth. It’s almost too much, and you feel your stomach tightening with every moment the teasing continues.

“Samu,” you whine softly, “samu, please, can’t s’too much, really need…” The words are jumbled and garbled. You can’t quite sort your brain to come up with anything coherent, distracted by the wet pooling in your underwear and the weight of his body crowding over yours.

“Sensitive tits?” He coos with a sharp glint in his eyes, gears obviously moving in his head for the future. “That’s okay,” he continues while pressing a soft kiss to each of your breasts, “What do you really need?”

“Need you to touch me.”

For a second, his mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. You fear he’s going to tease you, make you explain in lewd detail how bad you need him and where you want him to touch you, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, truthfully too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of your body and too impatient to feel you for the first time to drag this out.

“Good girl, I’m gonna take these off.” He starts, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear to take them off together. Without hesitation, his eyes travel between your legs. “Such a pretty, little cunt.” He hums already squeezing in between your thighs. Obviously distracted, he peppers little kissed up the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, still caught up staring at your soaking mess.

“Samu, please…” You whine. While you know he isn’t purposefully teasing, well you don’t know but you don’t think at least, it’s just as frustrating. Your knees lock around his thick shoulders, pulling him closer to your heat.

“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” He grumbles, lapping right at the crook of your thigh and hip. There’s a split second of tense silence wherein he carefully spread your lips admiring the glisten of your slick under the dim light of the lamp. Your entire body is tense with anticipation, legs shaking as they struggled to spread around his wide frame.

And just like that quiet moment is over - he laps you up so desperately and greedily you’re twitching under his grasp, clawing at the wrinkled bed sheets below you for anything to ground you. He doesn’t stop when he shifts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his hands around the bottom of your tummy to keep your jostling hips in place.

When you finally look back down to grab his hand, keeping a vice grip around his fingers, you also glance down for the first time. His dark, hazy eyes meet yours and you completely relax at last.

The feeling doesn’t last long, not when he pushes his tongue into your tight, unprepared hole, slurping all he can get and pushing in as far as he can go. Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation, your cum dribbling down his chin and coating up to his nose that keeps brushing against your throbbing clit.

With a solid, squelching pop he tears away from you. “Taste so good,” he heaves, lips coming back even as he’s speaking, ghosting over you. He buries himself in your cunt again, this time focusing solely on your clit, cycling through different motions until he finds the one that makes your hips strain under his sturdy hold.

“Feel so good!” You sigh. “Please, please wanna cum.”

Smirking against you, he takes the hand you’re not clinging to back under your thigh and props it against your ass, slowly teasing a finger in. Absolutely gushing now, it slips in easily. You can feel his smile grow again for a moment before he refocuses on your clit, motions speeding up and increasing the pressure with which he worked. It’s impossible to not shudder under him now, especially with one arm only holding you down.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum.” He murmurs, easily hooking a second finger into you, pumping and curling them in time with his tongue. As he feels you flutter and cream he can’t help but rut into the mattress, cock swelling from the taste of you. The pressure inside is too much and your want to let go is pushing you closer and closer, although it’s his mouth and fingers that really push you forward.

“C-cu-!” The words get trapped in your throat, overtaken by a hushed moan you struggle to bite back, trying - but very much failing - to be mindful of all the half-sleeping people strewn through the house. He slowly brings you down, fingers winding down and tongue lapping up your swollen clit while you convulse at his touch in time with the fluttering of your cunt.

At last, you have to drag him off, needily tugging up on his hands until he lets go. You try to pull him in to kiss, but he hesitates, his strength far outweighing your weak, blissful one and he hovers above you. There’s no reason to ask because almost immediately his fingers that were inside of you, absolutely drenched, come up to his mouth so he can make a show of sucking them dry for you.

“Taste even better than the stuff you make.” He sighs, letting you drag him down to your face. You can smell and taste yourself so strongly on his damp lips, it clouds your already hazy senses.

“Hmm,” you manage out, when he rests his entire body weight against yours, lips pressed into the side of your head. It’s only when you go to shift that you feel him pressing so incredibly hard and flush to you exposed skin through his soft pants, that you perk up. “Samu,” you begin brushing your fingers through his soft, dark hair, “can I...wanna help you.”

“Mhmm,” he nestles against your neck, kissing over the spots he left behind earlier, “in a minute, pretty girl, we have a lot of time ahead of us.”

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu smut #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #hq smut

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2dmenenthusiast · 3 years

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I can't remember if I sent this to you already but could I request headcanons for aizawa, hizashi and Toshinori finding their s/o that has a chipmunk quirk that makes her fall into hibernation when it's too cold (kinda like tsu) but when the guys find her with her heart rate low and her breathing shallow maybe they freak a little bc she didn't tell them about that part of her quirk yet

omggggg this idea is literally so cute I got so excited when I first read it. Also thank you love for comin through with the requests, I really appreciate it! <3 I also hella struggled cuz like, what can someone with a chipmunk quirk do? Stuff their cheeks? Climb up trees? Also I legit forgot what a chipmunk even looked like I had to look it up lmaoooo im so dumb it hurts

Aizawa is an intimidating fella, okay

So when you first told him about your quirk, you were lowkey embarrassed?

Like, here’s this grown-ass man with a badass quirk who is more than capable of taking down villains and defending himself, and here you are just-

🐿️

But you know what’s great about this man? He couldn’t give less of a shit about your quirk or anything like that. He strikes me as the type to care more about personality than anything else

concealing your quirk is fairly easy. People probably wouldn’t even know you had one if it wasn’t for the small fluffy ears popping out of the top of your head, and even then you could just cover them with a hat

But that doesn’t mean you don’t experience the effects of your own quirk just because it’s subtle

You have a mutant type quirk, so you experience certain things that actual chipmunks do

Sometimes you won’t even notice that you’re stuffing your cheeks to full capacity with whatever you’re eating before Aizawa has to cut you off and just be like

“y/n. Chew.”

Or when you’re rushing, you’re usually going so fast that Aizawa can barely even see you zooming from room to room

you can also get kinda skittish at times, your ears twitching whenever you hear a noise that sounds weird or out of place, and you’ll just look at Aizawa with wide eyes until he checks out what made a noise that he could barely hear

“y/n, it was just some kids outside.”

“Oh... sorry, Sho.”

he wants to be frustrated, but he knows it’s not your fault. And honestly? He finds you so cute that he can’t really stay mad at you

So he’ll just let out a huff before patting your head lovingly, grazing his fingers over your ears (Which he KNOWS are sensitive, that asshole)

Experiencing long periods of deep sleep is also a thing. You wouldn’t call it hibernation cuz you still have to do normal, everyday things, but there are times during the winter where you’ll sleep for a few days in a row and only get up to go to the bathroom or eat

And since you can’t actually burrow into the floor of your home, you usually make a blanket fort in the corner of your bedroom and stuff all of the pillows and blankets you can in there until it’s nice and warm, ready for you to bury yourself in

and you might’ve left that little part of your quirk out when you moved in together. whoops

So when Shouta comes home and sees the living room couch void of all of its pillows, he’s not expecting to walk into your shared bedroom and see you curled up in a blanket fort

he’s a bit curious at first, just kinda looking at you like “All right, I guess this is normal?”

and he’ll crouch down and kinda examine you for a bit before he eventually wonders if you’re even breathing? You’re burried under blankets, so he can’t really see your chest moving

eventually he’ll check and see that your breathing is abnormally slow and he kinda just... pauses and checks again to make sure he’s not going crazy.

and he wont deny that he kinda freaks out at first, his immediate thought being that he needs to get you out of there, but the second he grabs the blankets to pull them off of you he’s like wait... hold up.

then it all clicks

you’re a mutant with a chipmunk quirk...

c h i p m u n k

safe to say he’s relieved, so he just lets you be and goes about his day.

When you wake up a few hours later to go to the bathroom, you come out of the bedroom with your clothes practically on backwards, rubbing at your eyes and stumbling past Aizawa like he’s not even there. And when you’re done, it’s right back to sleep you go

“Back to bed?” Aizawa would ask as he watches you with an amused smirk on his face

“Mhm.”

“Okay. Goodnight, y/n”

“Mm’night.

Listen, when he first heard of your quirk, he thought it was the cutest shit ever

“Your quirk is Chipmunk?! That’s SOOOOOOOO CUUUUUUUTE!”

No he’s legit your number one hype man. If you think your quirk is lame, he’s literally shouting at you how cool he thinks you are.

“You can stuff so much food in your mouth, y/n! And that’s pretty dope if you ask me! I’m totally jealous!”

speaking of food, he’ll just randomly ask you to shove as much as you can of one thing in your cheeks until they’re at full capacity.

“Hey y/n, think you can shove this whole pack of jumbo marshmallows in your cheeks?”

“But... I just bought those :(”

“I’ll buy you more, LET’S DO THIS!!!”

also asks you the dumbest questions omg. You don’t know if he’s genuinely curious or if he’s just doing it to piss you off

“So do you just eat nuts all day?”

“You’ve seen me eat, Hizashi. No.”

“Do you prefer to sleep in trees?”

“That would be extremely uncomfortable.”

“Ooh you’d probably be great frieds with Kamui Woods then.”

“Did you not hear what I just said?”

He also REALLY likes your ears. Like an unhealthy amount? Whenever you’re around he literally wont stop touching them and even tugs on them playfully until you’re swatting at his hands and telling him to go away

He can’t help that they’re so cute :(

so on a particuallry cold day in winter when he has to go to work at the school, he leaves your home while you’re sleeping, only to come home hours later to find you... still sleeping?

You haven’t moved an inch the entire time he’s been gone, so needless to say, he’s a litle concerned.

and when he checks to see if you’re still alive only to discover your heart rate is super slow, he’s A LOT concerned

His brain just goes to the most dramatic thing he can think of, which is that you’re in some weird coma and need to wake up

so rather than, i dont know, gently shaking you awake like a normal person, he grabs you buy your shoulders and starts shaking you violently while shouting your name loud as fuck

“Y/NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN”

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!”

you literally wake up so violently, you sit right up and shove him off of you before asking what’s wrong with him, pretty sure you’ve officially gone deaf

He then explains that he thought you were in a coma or something cuz your heartbeat was so slow, and at that point you just roll your eyes because of course he would come up with this ridiculous conclusion

“Hizashi, my quirk is chipmunk and it’s a mutation quirk.”

He doesn’t even get what you’re getting at, just tilting his head in confusion as he squints at you.

“What do chipmunks do in the winter, babe?”

Cue more confused squinting

“Oh my god, they hibernate, you headass.”

it finally clicks and the look on his face makes it seem like he just learned the secret of the universe, and afterwards he’s going on about how cool that is while you just roll your eyes and lay back down to try and go back to sleep, bringing the blanket over your head to try and drown him out

He eventually gets the hint and leaves, but after a while, you kinda feel bad for blowing up on him. He was just concerned and didn’t fully understand your quirk

so letting out a huff, you pull the blanket down and call out his name, to which he immediately runs to you at the sound of, asking you what you need

you just wordlessly lift up the blanket to expose the empty side of the bed, and oh boy, the size of the grin he gets on his face is unmatched

immediately throws off his hero costume so that you can both be comfortable and jumps into bed with you, holding you impossibly close

you fall asleep in a matter of minutes while he just looks at you fondly, hand soothingly rubbing your back.

Just like the other two, he finds you incredibly cute. Like mans is in love, okay?

everytime he sees your little ears twitch, he just gets the strongest urge to touch them, but he never does without your consent becuase he knows how sensitive they are.

“Uh... y/n, do you mind if I... touched your ears?”

Baby probably feels so awkward asking ugh PLEASE REASSURE HIM

“Oh? Yeah, of course, Toshi. Knock yourself out.”

oooh he’s excited. He’ll be super gentle about it, just lightly grazing them with his fingers before gently rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger

and at that point you’re littlerally melting, practically falling into him because him caressing your ears like this feels absolutely amazing

When he sees how it’s affecting you, he immediately becomes a blushing mess and apologizes, but you just hug him and tell him it’s okay and that you liked it

yeah he definitely rubs your ears whenever you’re feeling stressed or anxious because it’s become a quick way to relax you

only when he does it though. If anyone else randomly touches your ears, you get kinda uncomfortable

Just because they don’t look human doesn’t mean they still weren’t a part of you, dammit

Anyways, one day when you’re waiting for Toshi to come back home, you’ve got yourself wrapped up like a burrito in your blanket, sitting on the couch as you watched tv

it had been snowing all day, but luckily Toshinori had turned up the thermostat before he left, remembering how you mentioned that you’re not a huge fan of the cold

unfortunately for you, the harsh weather had no trouble taking out the power, leaving you in the dark and the cold

it didn’t take long for the cold to start seeping in through the cracks in the windows, and you quickly began to grow tired before you inevitibly passed out on the couch, still wrapped tightly in your blanket

When Toshi gets home and sees you on the couch, his first reaction is “aw, how cute.”

but then when he comes up to you and starts calling out your name to try and wake you up and you just won’t, and then he notices how much your breathing has slowed down, he quickly growns concerened.

He’s not in full panic mode yet, but he’s getting there, and he’s quick to crouch down to your level and grab your shoulders to start shaking you to wake you up

which you do, blinking groggily at him like you weren’t just in full hibernation mode

“Oh... Hey, Toshi,” you mumble, and you reach up to wrap your arms around his neck to pull him down so that you can nuzzle yourself into his warm chest

He’s not able to ask you about what happened to you before you’ve already fallen back asleep, and when the power comes back on a few minutes later, he does a quick google search on chipmunks and mutant quirks before putting two and two together

Now he’s thinking of all the ways he could make you something to burrow into during those especially cold winters

#mha headcanons #mha x reader #all might headcanons #toshinori headcanons #toshinori x reader #aizawa headcanons #shouta aizawa x reader #present mic headcanons #present mic x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #bnha headcanons #eraserhead headcanons #eraserhead x reader #request #ask

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okaybutlikeimagine · 3 years

Text

Come Inside, It’s Ok

Desc: Hop realizes that Billy is a lot like him when he was a teen- based on the song Thirteen by Big Star (bc that’s a Jopper AND a Harringrove anthem, tell me i’m wrong)

TW: referenced past child abuse, referenced homophobia, every dad in Hawkins sounds like an abusive asshole in this fic i didn’t mean it 😞

you can also read this on AO3 right here!! ♥

~*~

James Hopper hated his father more than anyone else hated the man. More than his uncle who had to grow up with the jerk. More than his mother who threatened to divorce the deadbeat seven times. More than anyone.

Hopper’s father was abrasive and loud. He joined the army because he wanted to. He gave up his individuality willingly. He shaved his head and licked the boot of The Man and acted superior for it. He looked down on a young Jimmy Hopper and barked in his face and ordered that he become a man. Quicker. Jim was only 7. He had just broken an arm at football practice. He needed reassurance and comfort. He got condescension and a mother threatening to leave. Loudly.

James Hopper was sure he was the only son in the world who hated his own father. He felt sure as hell about it when he stuck his jaw out and looked past his nose at his father who always seemed to tower over him. Even when the man only had an inch on him, he was larger- always looming. He felt sure as hell about it when he’d narrow his eyes and refuse to listen. He felt sure as hell about it when he talked back to him, and got into yelling matches with him, and slammed the door on him.

He felt even more sure the one night he got hit.

He was more than certain he was the only one. Standing there, staring this horrible bulk of a man down, Jimmy knew no one else had ever felt such a thing before. This wasn’t TV or the movies. This wasn’t a family love you cherish by the fire on a cold Christmas night. This wasn’t a father with kind eyes and a stern voice who comes into the house in the evening with his suit on and his briefcase in hand, kissing his kids and smiling brightly. This was different and he knew it.

And all of that anger and stress and feeling of certainty made him take too long to realize something crucial. Because he didn’t realize you can know something and yet still be so wrong.

That is, until Phil didn’t come to school one day.

Jimmy figured he was sick. A couple days later he figured it was that nasty stomach bug. A week later and he figured his family took a trip. A week and a few days had him itching with worry. He asked his best friend as calmly as he could. That friend looked at him like he was nuts.

“You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“He moved away. His mom took him out of the state last weekend. They just left.”

Jim couldn’t understand the words for a second.

“Why?”

“You didn’t know? His dad has been roughing him up for years now. He got the mom too, I think. Why do you think he was always wearing sweaters all year long?”

Jim’s heart stopped.

“His mom finally got him out. They left.”

“Why did no one say anything about it?”

“Because you don’t talk about that stuff.” Jim’s friend said, hushed and knowing, eyes turned solemn and hiding a world Jim didn’t know lived in there. In his most outspoken, lively friend. In his friend he’d known since they were toddlers.

You don’t talk about that stuff he said like he had a whole world of pain to tell. Jim knew his friends were like him- dads who were tough as nails and grunted more than spoke. It was why they all got along so well. But they never mentioned their fathers being… Jim was so sure he was the only one. Everyone else did things with their family. Everyone else seemed so perfect. At the very least they seemed better. Jim was sure.

Why did no one say anything about it? quickly morphed into Why did I never even ask?

Starting there, Jim kept a critical eye out. He watched his friends and what they were wearing. The way they moved and the changes in those movements. The words they spoke about their parents. He noticed differences and fluctuating emotions. But stil, he was only a young teenager- he never knew what to do. His mouth couldn’t form around the words he felt he should say. His brain could barely provide them. So he did for them what he would have liked- just took them out to empty fields and deep into the woods. He provided them beer and music. Sometimes, when they were splitting at the seams, he’d fight them a bit. He’d egg them on so they could fight it out. Get the anger out. Help, somehow. Inadvertently. Lord knew Jimmy sometimes just needed to punch shit. Turns out, his friends felt the same way, and often.

When his daughter Sarah came, he handled her gently and spoke to her even softer. He got into fights with his now ex-wife over his not being strict enough but Hop couldn’t find it in himself to have any kind of gruffness toward someone so soft and so innocent and so pure. She was the light of his life. She left so quickly. Even his softness and kindness couldn’t save her, and he couldn’t very well beat the shit out of her enemies like he had wished to.

And when he met Billy Hargrove on the side of the road that one dark night, having pulled him over for speeding drunkenly down the lonely streets on the outskirts of town, every red flag flew up. Every worry and fear he found within himself when he was a teen found its place once again inside of him for this boy. For his bruised face and exhausted eyes. For his lightly cut chin and short breath. Hop became young Jimmy yet again, analyzing and fearing for a world of pain he couldn’t see and couldn’t ask about. He searched hard for words this time and found all the wrong ones. He exhausted the poor boy with his inability to articulate his fears and was successful in taking him in only because he had worn him out so badly.

Still, since then, he’s been here. He’s family now. He’s out of there. In all his fumbling Hop did something right.

And yet, things still feel wrong. Billy still walks tentatively around him, like the cabin is going to crash down above him and any relationship they’ve built up is going to shatter.

Hop thinks about it so often. He thinks about Billy and sees his own friends from high school. He sees parts of himself, but sadder, angrier… more helpless. He thinks endlessly on what he can do to fix it.

~Won’t you let me walk you home from school~

A song starts playing through his record player and he’s lost again in the world of Jimmy vs. Billy. He thinks of how life used to feel simple.

This song always whisks him away to high school. The early days when life was confused and wandering and he was just coming into his own with football, not nearly a “star” yet and Joyce… Joyce was young and wide eyed and wandering just the same. By that point she hadn’t even met Lonnie yet. She was awkward and yet still so beautiful. So quiet and so stunning. Her laughter rang through the hallways and he swears he can still hear it.

This song feels like it’s for them. When he first heard it, he saw her face back when they were freshmen and then sophomores, when he used to walk her home. He always used to walk her home, before he got his car and before she got Lonnie. They’d walk so slow, wandering through the streets, lazily strolling past stores and getting slightly distracted by the people zooming past on their bikes.

He sits forward on the couch and he looks down at the tattered carpet and he hears himself as Jimmy.

”C’mon Joyce… we can hit the pool this weekend.”

“I’m busy.”

“Then… then maybe Friday I can get a couple tickets for that dance.”

“What?”

He gave her his biggest, brightest grin, knowing he caught her off guard. He smiles a little now at the thought.

”Yeah, c’mon, Joyce. I’ll take ya. I’ll get a monkey suit and you can wear a dress-”

She had laughed that bright, ringing laugh. It made him smile every time.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass.”

“You’re gonna pass up a chance to dance with me?”

“Don’t tell me, you’re the best dancer in Hawkins?”

“You’ll never know if you don’t come find out.”

“You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Hop has a hard time thinking of himself back then. He felt so sure of everything. Of himself and what he was doing, even if he knew he didn’t know anything at all. Still, he chuckles now as he sits here, thinking about Joyce’s smile and her little nod. Thinking about him buying those tickets. Thinking about the night they had together, awkward and fumbling but bright still. His first real kiss that had real feelings to go along with it. The way Joyce walked so quickly as they headed to her home because she was so nervous. The way she never let him walk her up to her house because she was so scared her parents would ground her.

Lord does he remember the fights. The stress and the struggle of dealing with Joyce’s parents. When they came to an after-school event and Jimmy said hi to her and her dad gave her hell for it and her mom worried herself sick for a bit. She got grounded and started avoiding him. He got angry and figured fine because Gloria from his History class had been eyeing him up lately and helping him with a pretty friendly smile so it didn’t even matter.

It wasn’t more than a week that had passed before he cornered her after school and convinced her to let him walk her home again.

They wandered downtown and he guided her behind a store building, the store she now works for if he remembers correctly, and asked about that night. Asked about what he said wrong. Asked about what he did wrong.

She shook her head, said it was just her parents being “crazy, I don’t know”. He couldn’t find it in him to worry that much. When they kissed, it was still with so many feelings attached. Hop can’t remember when those feelings faded.

It wasn’t until a couple years later when a rumor started going around about Joyce’s dad being a grade A asshole like Phil’s was all those years ago that made Jim take her aside very seriously and ask her if she was okay- those couple of years ago and that day. By that point she was with Lonnie and he was getting serious about Diane. He and Joyce hadn’t talked for over a year. Still, he was worried. She insisted that her dad just liked to huff and puff and yell enough to shake her ears, but he never touched her. It wasn’t until years and years later that Hop realized that really isn’t any better. Nowadays she insists she was and is fine and he’s just found it in himself to believe her.

When Hop finally got a car, they would sit in it and listen to the radio and talk music. She was the only person who’d sit with him and actually think about lyrics and feelings and words. She was always so headstrong about… well everything but especially human rights. She wanted equal rights for everyone. She fought so hard it made Jim tired. Maybe it started with her father but it truly never seemed to end. They used to sit and theorize about meanings behind words and the messages of songs.

”Tell your old man what we say about Paint It, Black. That’ll mess him up.”

Joyce hit him with a chuckle. That was the last time in high school they really laughed together. He can still remember her laugh back then- light and free from any weight these years have brought to it.

But now Jimmy is Hopper, and life isn’t the same. It doesn’t wander and linger and hide behind stores for extra kisses that feel electric. He knows life just doesn’t work that way anymore. He feels like life has only continued with all of the bad parts and none of the good.

In the slow guitar interlude of the song, he hears voices where they shouldn’t be- distant and slightly muffled and outside the window that’s opened a bit to let some air in.

“Yeah, he’s home. The cruiser is there.”

“Then I should go-”

“No, wait-”

It’s Billy and another voice Hop thinks he can recognize. Sounds like the same cocky, lilted tone of Steve Harrington. He knows they’ve been fighting for months now. They always seem to be fighting. Hop used to get called into the school because Billy was always shoving him around that one year. Since then there’s been whispers of them causing a ruckus all over the place but Hop never gets called to check it out. He doesn’t like to ask too much about it. He’s still trying to handle Billy gently and there’s so many more things to worry about. He doesn’t have the words to ask about that.

He doesn’t have the words to explain why they’d be here, together and clearly not at each other’s throats. Why bring a fight all the way back home?

“You uh… got anything planned this weekend?”

“Nope, nothing planned.”

A pause.

“There’s uh… a stupid dance or something-”

“Billy-”

“Look I just… we can’t go, obviously but maybe… we can do something on our own?”

There’s another pause. Longer this time. Hop used to be so sure and suddenly he’s realizing yet again maybe things are the same as they were when he was young- because yet again, he doesn’t know anything.

~Won’t you tell me what you’re thinking of~

“C’mon Harrington….” there’s the confirmation Hop didn’t need. “Say something at least. Don’t just stand there thinking.”

“Billy we can’t keep running around and hiding.”

“Why not?”

~Would you be an outlaw for my love?~

“What if people find out, that’s why not! What if my dad-”

“Tell your dad to fuck off.”

“And Hop?”

Hop’s heart stops. Everything comes crashing to a halt because suddenly he’s being made to face the very harsh fact that he’s not Jimmy anymore. He hasn’t been for a long while. He’s Chief Hopper and Chief Hopper belongs to the “other” part of these young kids’ minds. Billy’s and Steve’s and El’s and Mike’s. He’s the man they’re meant to rebel against. He’s the one that doesn’t “get it” like they do.

And apparently he’s the one that Steve is worried about.

He doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t even know what to think. He knows people like that exist. He thinks he used to go to school with a few guys who were… well, into other things. He never had much to say or even think about it. Joyce was friends with them. She went out to a protest or something once in their senior year. He saw her in a car with them while he was taking Diane to the movies.

It’s not the fact that they like each other or that they want to spend time together. That’s better than them beating the snot out of each other and getting his guys called on them. It’s the fact that they’re worried about him and the fact that they have every reason to be. Hop is part of “The Man” now, and people around here don’t exactly like differences.

“I’ll figure it out.” Billy says, but Hop almost misses it, it’s so quiet.

“Billy-”

“Are you gonna fight for this, or what? Or is this just a one time thing for you to find yourself or some bullshit?”

Hop hears Jimmy in Billy’s words

”Are you not gonna fight for me?”

“Fight for you?!” Joyce had yelled. Oh, how she yelled. ”Are you serious? I… I pick and choose my fights Jim, okay? I have to.”

“That’s not very fair to me.”

“Not fair? No shit it’s not fair, it’s not fair for me either! And you… you’re not being fair to me, y’know!”

And that was it. They went separate ways. It’s so vivid in Jim’s mind- the way she stormed away and Jim drove himself home. He doesn’t remember how long it took until Lonnie joined Joyce’s picture, but it felt too soon in Hop’s ever bitter mind. He couldn’t look at her for weeks. He shoved Lonnie in the hallway any chance he got. The kid would snarl and sneer at him, but he was as scrappy as a dog and scrawnier than a toothpick- no way did he ever pick a fight. He spat words and Jimmy lunged and that was that. Hop doesn’t remember when the feelings faded, but he knows he never stopped hating Lonnie’s stupid face.

Then he started to date Diane and things were just… over.

“Alright Steve, I see-”

“It’s not that easy for me, Billy.”

“And you think this shit is easy for me?”

Hop feels bad for sitting here, still listening, but he can’t get his muscles or limbs to move him. He feels stuck, somewhere between here and the past, picturing all the ways he’s still the same and yet so wildly different.

“Well it is different for you.”

“Just because my shit’s different doesn’t mean my shit’s better. Shit is still shit, Steve.”

All the times Hop thought he had it the worst anyone could ever possibly have it.

“You don’t know what it’s like.”

“Try me, Harrington! Just try me.”

All the times Hop thought maybe his friends were exaggerating about Phil’s past. Maybe Joyce was being dramatic about things at home. There was no way a kid could feel so threatened. Not a kid as big as Phil. Not a kid as headstrong as Joyce.

There’s a longer pause from the two outside the window. The voice that comes is quieter now.

“It’s scary Billy.”

“I know it is! I… fuck I know it is.”

Not a kid as big and headstrong as Billy. It took years for Hop to believe it could happen and still, with an example living in his own house, it’s still hard to understand.

“Don’t you think it could be worth it?” That’s Billy’s voice. Hop feels his heart sink even deeper. They’re talking like they’re going to die if they’re caught. How many more times can he tell this boy he’s safe here? What does he have to do to convince him? To convince them both?

“Maybe… I think so.”

“Look, I can’t make you do anything, Steve. But if you wanna try… then let me know, alright?”

Billy sounds so tired. Hop wants to tell him to lay down and take a nap. There’s such a long pause that follows and fills the space between them.

And then suddenly there’s something blocking the sun from the window. Jim gets the wherewithal to turn and see that the two boys have got their hands tangled in the front of each other’s shirts, just like they would if they were gearing for a fight, but instead of fists flying it’s their lips locked- worlds of frustration still heavy on their brows.

Jim wants to protect these kids until the day he dies. They’re here and they’re wandering too, but their walk home is covered in speed bumps and potholes and hell maybe even spikes that he and Joyce never knew. Whatever he can do to give these kids the time and place to wander like the kids they are, he’ll do it.

Then they separate, their breathing clearly labored and mingling. Then they turn and see Jim in the window, caught like two deer in big bright headlights.

A split second later, Steve is running for the hills and Billy is left with his fists grasping at the air. Hop can’t help but laugh.

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jpegjade · 4 years

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Pursuit of Happiness (Nightmares)

SO remember how i told you guys that the next fic was gonna be angsty fluff? well i present to you the angstiest thing i have yet to write. (i had to reel myself back. i definitely went angstier but i decided not to go there this early in the game) - and yes, the title is a kid cudi song.

Request: Okay another request… and I know you love to write angst so how about something where the reader is having a hard time sleeping bc of nightmares and has been trying her best to keep it from Spence but he obviously knows and tries to help?

__________________

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the life of one Spencer Reid. A brilliant young man whose life was cut short by the grips of life.” Some priest said, standing at the front of a podium.

You were outside, standing under a tent with a group of people. You tried to look at their faces but it was like everything was in a haze. The priest continued talking but it’s like his voice slowed down, almost as if he went underwater somehow. You looked down, seeing yourself in your funeral dress. Was this real?

“And now a few words from his fiance.” The priest motioned to you.

It’s like your body started moving on its own. You walked to the front of the tent, in front of everyone. Slowly, their faces came into view. One by one, you recognized who you were looking at and all of them were crying. Even his mom was there, crying just as hard as everyone else. There wasn’t a dry eye in the tent area.

“My heart is broken... “ You began, not sure where the words were coming from. Even now, you weren’t sure what was really happening but you started to piece things together. “The love of my life…” You started sobbing, the words getting caught in your throat.

“The love of my life is gone, taken by a cruel excuse for a man. If I could trade my life for his, I would in a heartbeat. His bright eyes, loving smile, he deserves the world and every good thing in it. And now… Now, I can’t give it to him…”

You turned, looking at the coffin. He looked so peaceful, like no bad thing could touch him anymore. And that was true. He was relieved of his pain and suffering. Pressing your lips to his forehead one last time, you whispered, “I love you now and forever.”

You woke with a start. You were drenched in sweat and sobbing, although it didn’t feel like it. Your tears were mixed with sweat. You wrapped your arms around your torso, rocking yourself as you tried to calm down. Your heart raced and there was a painful ache in your body. Something was missing, an empty hole inside of you. You tried to breathe but it felt absolutely impossible. Your chest was so tight with fear that you didn’t think you would ever calm down.

Slowly, you began to breathe normally again. The room stopped spinning and you were able to loosen up enough to go get a glass of water. Your footsteps were quiet but your body felt so heavy. You struggled to stand up straight at the weight on your shoulders. Filling up your cup with water, you checked the time on the stove. It was only 11 PM. You must have fallen asleep early for you to wake up at this time. A few swallows later, you were ready to get back in bed.

What the fuck was that dream… Shit Spencer. If that wasn’t a dream, if that was a memory, you were going to lose it.

It was only 11 so you knew Spencer would still be awake, if not wrapping up at the office. When you used to sleep over at his apartment, he would stay up late because he had a cup of coffee late in the day and the effects were still hitting him. The two of you would stay up talking until one of you dropped. Sometimes, the conversations were good, all about how he was basically a superhero and you were a goddess, according to him.

‘Hey, angel.” You melted at the sound of his voice. He was okay.

“Hey yourself. How was work?” You asked, trying to keep things nonchalant. You just needed to hear him talk for a little bit and then you would feel better about everything going on.

“It was tiring. I’ve been doing desk work since I hurt my leg.” He said, pretending to be annoyed. Or maybe he was annoyed, you couldn’t tell.

You completely forgot he hurt his leg for a moment. All you could think about was that dream…

“Do you want to come over?” He asked, disrupting your thoughts. You were glad but you were unsure about this. What if you had another nightmare?

“I don’t know about that, Spence. I’m a little too tired to drive.” That was the only excuse you would think of to not go. “Don’t get me wrong, I would love to spend the night with you but I’m scared of falling asleep at the wheel.”

“I like that you’re cautious. Well, I’m on my way home. Do you want me to swing by?” Spencer said, looking for a reason to stop by.

“Only if you feel up to it.” You said, excited to have someone to help you stay awake. It would be easier to stay awake with your fiance there, right?

20 minutes later, Spencer walked through your door. Immediately embracing you in a hug, he smelled of lavender and coffee. You weren’t sure how that worked but it did on him.

“You’re always so cozy.” You said, face full of his sweater. It was beginning to be a long hug but you needed it.

“Are you ready to actually let me inside?” Spence said, chuckling at the realization that it was becoming an extra long hug.

“Inside of me or the apartment?” You laughed, finally letting go of him.

“Your pick.” He said, smirking.

“Get in here, you goofball.” You said, grabbing his hand and pulling him inside your apartment.

The two of you laid on the couch, watching Doctor Who for a little while before you started to drift off to sleep. Your head in Spencer’s lap, legs up on the couch, Spencer just watched you drift to sleep, smiling at how rested you looked.

“Spencer. Spencer, it’s me. You don’t have to do this. Please, baby. Just focus on me, okay?” You pleaded, your fiance’s back turned to you.

“I can’t, y/n.” Spencer was crying, hard. “There’s so much darkness inside of me and I can’t navigate it. I can’t understand how to get rid of it. Some genius I am, right?”

“Baby, no.” You took a couple tentative steps closer to him. You didn’t want him to get scared.

“Yes. Yes. Yes. You say all these nice things about me and I can’t… I don’t understand.” He was still crying. That was a good sign. He still felt something. He wasn’t numb.

“Spencer, listen to my voice. You’re not all dark, okay? That brilliant mind of yours isn’t going to figure it out if you give up now. Let me help you understand.” Your voice was hardly steady but it was just enough to keep him engaged.

You kept inching towards him. Your hands were shaking still. You were almost there.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Spencer!” You yelled, bolting upright.

You fell asleep. Shit. But Spencer wasn’t holding you anymore. You didn’t see him. You also weren’t on the couch anymore. You were in your bed, shaking.

“Hmm? I’m right here.” Spencer said, turning over. He pulled you into his arms and held you as you explained your dreams and how they were backward.

“Spence, I’m afraid to go to sleep. I can’t handle you being taken away from me.” You sobbed, trying to slow down.

“Hey, you’re not going to lose me at all. We’ve got plans and things to accomplish. I wouldn’t dare leave you to your own devices.” He chuckled.

Hearing Spencer make light of the situation helped a little bit. You knew it was his way of helping you through the situation before he turned serious again.

“Y/n, dreams are less about the future and more about the subconscious. Your fears manifest in two second bits of information but your brain slows it down to read the information. What you’re suffering from is common under high pressure or stressful situations. I know you’ve been suffering from nightmares for a little while. You don’t ever want to tell me these things but I find out eventually.” He said, pulling you tighter to his chest.

You could hear his heart, slow and steady. The blood pumping in your ears started to get quieter the more he spoke.

“You’ve been sleepless for at least a week. You’ve been wearing more make-up to cover up the dark circles and exhaustion. You have had an excuse not to sleep over at my place for a little while. Your clothes are always wrinkled and you have been more forgetful lately because you’re so tired. I haven’t said anything because I wanted to give you space to figure it out since I know you’ll call me when you feel like I can help.” He paused.

“You know I’m here for you, right?” He said, kissing the top of your head.

“I know. But it’s so hard… I thought I had this under control.” You sighed, wrapping your arm around Spencer.

“Baby, you have to ask for help sometimes. You have to know that some things aren’t going to happen because there’s no way in hell I would leave you. The only thing I’m sorry for right now is that I didn’t step in sooner. I didn’t think it would get this bad…” Spencer got progressively quieter the more he talked.

“Spence, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just… I feel like you have enough to worry about. I want to be the sunshine in your life, the thing you look forward to seeing because I bring you joy.” You sighed.

“I know. But you don’t have to do anything to give me that feeling, sunshine.” He said, smiling. “I come home to the most beautiful, smart, incredible girl in the world every day, when I’m not on trips, that is.” He chuckled.

“Spence… You’re too sweet.” You said, burying your face into his chest. You didn’t even realize he was shirtless until you lifted your head and put it back down on his chest.

“Sweet like sugar.” He said. He smirked in the low light of the lamp on your bedside table.

“Spencer, that light was in my living room. Did you move it?” You asked, wondering why he would do something like that.

“When I have nightmares, I find that it’s easier to get my bearings when I can see what’s around me. In the dark, anything can happen. In the dark, the monsters come out. But in the light, you’re able to see that you’re safe. So I moved it so you can wake up and recognize you’re safe with me.” Spencer said.

“You’re the best, you know that?” You said, getting sleepy again.

“And you’re mine.” He said, followed by a yawn.

There was something different about when you fell asleep this time. You had more control, felt more peaceful and less nervous. You were able to breathe again knowing that Spencer was right there with you. For the first time in a little while, you were able to get a peaceful couple hours of sleep.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #cm #criminal minds

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

Text

Night Drives (Shinsou x Reader)

Pairing: Shinsou x Reader

Genre: Fluff/Comfort, College!AU

Summary: You’re having a rough and stressful week, and Shinsou helps by taking you out for a late night trip.

Word count: 1,814

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: I know I promised angst, but I really wanted to write this little comfort/fluff piece for anyone who might be facing a mid-semester funk/depression like me. I was inspired because I went out to pick my cousin up from the airport late last night and I never realized how therapeutic night driving can be.

I also wasn’t really sure which character I wanted to write for this (bc they would all fit one way or another), but I chose Shinsou bc I haven’t written for him in a hot minute and he deserves some more love.

I hope you guys enjoy it, and I hope it helped some of you and maybe helped cheer you up 😊

I sit at my desk, hands carding through my messy hair. Pouring over my notes is the most stressful thing I could be doing this weekend, I'd rather be sleeping or doing something more relaxing. Weekends before exams are always the hardest because it's when I get my biggest chunk of studying done, so I'm usually holed up in my room the entire day.

It's also times like this when the dark thoughts roll in. I've always been a smart kid, but being in college really makes me question it. Getting low B's and high C's on exams in my major classes don't mean the end of the world, but I rethink who I think I am because of it. I still get A's in my other bullshit classes, so why am I struggling in the classes that are supposed to teach me the skills I need for my future career? Should I rethink my future? Do I even want to go into my chosen field anymore? Am I making a huge mistake being here? I'm wasting my entire scholarship money if I decide to start over from scratch. My fingers close in on my scalp.

"Kitty?"

The warmth in his voice jolts my head up. "Oh, hey." I straighten my back, not even realizing how hunched over my back was.

Shinsou's eyebrows are furrowed at me. "Are you okay?" His large thumb brushes over the wetness clinging at the corners of my eyes. "You're crying."

I tug at the sleeves of my hoodie. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He studies my face carefully, his own dark circles standing out against his pale skin. He knows how I get when I'm in this mode, staying respectful of my study habits. Since I don't come out of my room, he'll let himself in and stay in my bed, reading, sleeping, doing his own studying, or watching something on his laptop until I'm finished. Just a few moments ago when I peaked over my shoulder to see what he was doing, he'd fallen asleep with his headphones on, lightly snoring. He doesn't bother me. It's something I appreciate about him.

Shinsou crosses his arms over his chest. "When was the last time you ate?"

My stomach admittedly feels empty. I've only been snacking when I felt hungry. Looking at the clock, it's almost midnight. "Since breakfast," I answer feebly.

A sigh escapes his lips. "Are you finished now? You've been like this all day."

I cast a dreadful look over the pages of notes. There's still a few chapters I need to look over, but my brain feels that it might explode if I try to cram anymore information in. The worst part is I don't even feel like I've retained anything I've read in the past few hours. I start closing my books. "Yeah, I'm done." And utterly defeated.

Shinsou gently takes my hand in his, calling my attention to him. "Come on, go wash your face and change. We're gonna go eat."

He leaves me to go to his room and fetch his wallet. Trudging into the bathroom and following his instructions, I wash my face to wake myself up, change into some jeans, and pull on a hoodie that's more presentable for going out into the world.

Shinsou returns, changed into a pair of jeans, hoodie, and denim jacket, and we head out of our dorm building. The air isn't as cold as I thought, but it was just as deserted. The scattered lamp posts across the pavement are the only illuminations in the parking lot. I walk with my hands in my pockets and my hood up.

How the hell am I gonna learn everything by Tuesday? I despair. I hate how I always end up thinking about work even when I don't want to.

Shinsou closes the distance between us and snakes his arm around my torso. "Have you ever considered getting a hoodie with cat ears on them?" he asked casually.

I'm thrown off by his random question, but I have to laugh. "Uh, no? Why would I wear it?"

"So I can pull at the ears, duh."

"You and your cat addiction needs to chill." I want to shove him away, but his warmth feels great to touch. "Where are we going?"

"Noodles?" he offers. "It's been getting pretty cold."

"Is it wrong that I want something...filling right now. And no, get your mind out of the gutter!" I shove Shinsou before he can say anything.

"I wasn't even thinking it, who actually has the dirty mind, hm?" He pokes the side of my head.

After I'm done pouting at him, I suggest, "Do you think there's a tempura place open around here? Actually, I just really want fries and something else."

"Anything else, your royal highness?" he smirks and unlocks his car.

"Mmm," I hum as I settle into his passenger seat. "A pet dragon would be nice too. Or full payment on my college education."

Shinsou chuckles at my sarcasm. "Anything for you, kitty." Holding my hand, he kisses my palm before starting the engine.

As he drives down the abandoned road, I lean my head against the window, staring out the windshield. The sky's already black, but there's too much light and the car's moving too fast to count the stars. Something about the emptiness of everything at night calms me down. It almost feels like Shinsou and I are the only 2 people in the world at this hour. Even the parking lot of the fast food joint down the block is deserted.

"I'll get it to go so we can eat in here, what do you want?" my purple haired prince asks me sweetly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"10 piece nuggets and medium fries. And a diet soda, I'm watching my calories." I whisper the last part.

"Coming right up."

"Are you sure it's okay to eat in your car?" I ask, tentatively opening the paper bag of food goodness. I didn't realize how hungry I was until the smell of high calorie fast food wafts in front of my nose.

Shinsou's eyes are on the road as he drives down the roadway. "Yeah I don't care, it's not like my car's new or anything."

I dip into the bag and grab my box of nuggets. A smile graces my face when I notice he remembered the sweet and sour sauce. "Why are you so good to me?"

"Because you're my kitty and I love you," he answers without missing a beat, his large hand messing up my hair.

A familiar fuzzy warmth fills me as I lean into his touch. Digging into my nuggets, I end up completely demolishing them, the hole in my stomach finally filling at the process meat. I don't care how old I get, I will always have chicken nuggets at fast food restaurants. Every once in a while, Shinsou would ask for one of my fries, and I'd happily feed him.

I have no idea where we're going; for some reason, we're on the highway. I just quietly finish my meal and sip my drink.

Shinou's eyes glint with mischief. "Since we're alone on the highway..."

My eyes widen. "Babe, no-!"

The engine revs to life under my boyfriend's lead foot and the car jolts forward. I clutch my fries and almost choke on my soda as we speed down the highway. The biggest grin spreads across his face.

"Hitoshi, I'm not ready to die!"

He takes his foot off the gas and the car relaxes, as does my heart. But he knows how much I secretly love it when he does that. "At least wait until I'm not about to choke before you do that!"

Laughing at me, he passes me his phone. "Play whatever you want, kitty."

Oh, it's over now.

I select a playlist of hype songs we both love, belting out the lyrics from the top of our lungs as Shinsou speeds down the highway. A mess of screams, laughter, loud music, and singing fill the entire space as we zip past all the lights on the highway. It reminds of what it might feel like rocketing through space. The pit of my stomach feels weightless from the excitement and the speeding car.

Are we crazy? Maybe. Did I savor every second of it? Absolutely.

Shinsou finally slows down and exits down a beach. Pulling into an empty space, he parks the car and gets out, waving for me to follow him. We end up sitting on the hood of his car, eating our food under a blanket he keeps in his car. A nearby streetlight dimly illuminates our dark space.

I snuggle Shinsou's left arm and look out into the dark expanse. I can finally count the stars, between stealing bites from Shinsou's burger. Clutching my end of the blanket over me, I lay my head on his shoulder. "It's so strange sitting on the hood of a car."

"Guess you've never done it before," he replies quietly, balling up his empty wrapper and placing it back in the bag. Both arms wrap around me, resting his head on top of mine. "I used to come here when I wanted to clear my mind. There's just a whole lot of nothing and silence."

I can't agree more. The darkness - the absence of light - makes everything seem quiet and empty. Something about it feels liberating, letting all my emotions flow out in front of me freely and let me just be. A breathe in and let it rattle out of me. The endless void surrounds us, isolates us, encloses us so our thoughts can't bother us.

Shinsou brings me closer, letting me sit halfway on his lap, placing a gentle kiss on my temple. "Are you feeling better, kitty? I know you're pretty stressed, more so than your usual anxious self. I figured bringing you out here would help somewhat."

My heart swells with warmth. I hug him tighter and close my eyes, leaning my head to his chest. "Thank you, Hitoshi. You've done a lot for me, I really appreciate it. You really went out of your way for me."

"Nothing's out of my way for you." His large hand rubs my scalp. "You work so hard, you deserve this."

I snuggle deeper into his chest, my eyes slowly closing as the rhythm of his heartbeat calms me. "What did I do to deserve you?" I mumble.

"Well, maybe you saved an entire country," he jokes, pressing another kiss into the top of my head and running his fingers lightly on the back of my head, "But I think you just being perfect deserves all the happiness I can give you."

"You're too sweet." I drift off to a light sleep in his arms, surrounded by his warmth, choosing to think about life some other time.

#Shinsou x reader #shinsou hitoshi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #college!AU #shinsou fluff #shinsou imagine #shinsou scenario #gender neutral reader #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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bigbrotherlouis · 3 years

Note

the bag of chips scene from 'i ate you up the day we first spoke' for the director's cut meme!

whoohoo i actually loved writing this scene and i’m so glad someone asked about it yeeee

(director’s cut meme)

everything eases back into normal. tk picks nolan up for practice, because nolan’s car is inexplicably always out of gas, (this is true, i read an article about it somewhere) and ties nolan’s ties for him on game days, and follows him into his living room to eat all the good snacks nolan hides on increasingly higher shelves.

“how did you even get those?” he asks when he comes out of the washroom and finds travis eating illegal all-dressed his mom had sent down in his last care package. he’s pretty sure they were hidden, like, on top of the cupboards this time. he literally had to throw them up there. (food, when you move countries, is a really big deal. i always want to keep the mutlicultural aspect of a lot of hockey players in mind, because i was a young multicutural person in the united states, and home foods is usually a good way to do it. all-dressed are pretty distinctly canadian, and my cousin gets her parents to send them to her in california, so i borrowed that from her. also i liked the image of TK climbing on the counters to try and get at a bag of chips.)

tk shrugs and crams a handful of chips into his mouth. “smart thinking.”

“those are mine.”

“i don’t see you eating them,” tk says smugly and nolan thinks about it for precisely point two seconds before he launches himself at the sofa. (no thoughts, head empty)

it’s a familiar ritual, this one. tk cackles, going limp so he can noodle off the cushions onto the floor, the bag still clamped in his hand. he scrabbles backwards until he’s out of reach of nolan’s admittedly long arms.

“sucks to suck, babe,” he gloats, except nolan is not emphatically giving up, those are his chips, and he’s not going to let his idiot of a best friend eat them all. tk grunts when nolan lands on his lower half, hard, and pins down his legs so he can’t escape. he sits on tk’s knees and ignores the yelling. (travis “has never shut up once in his life” konecny strikes again)

“mine,” he says savagely, snatching the bag out of his hands. tk huffs, shoving at his legs.

“it’s rude— not to— share— fuck, patty, what are you doing in the gym?”

“some of us don’t skip leg day.”

“yeah, well, some of us aren’t built like a fuckin’ ox,” tk complains, as if he’s not just as in shape as nolan is. “i can’t even fuckin’ pinch you because you’re wearing jeans.”

“now who’s the smart think— fuck!” (not you, pat. not tk either but still not you.) he shouts, flinching and rubbing at his side. that pinch is definitely going to bruise. tk uses it as a distraction to roll them, nolan’s shoulders thudding painfully against the floor, and straddles nolan’s stomach with his thighs. there’s another struggle but tk gets hold of nolan’s arms, pins them under his knees so nolan’s fists are at his sides. he’s effectively trapped. (too many nolans but what do you do when writing m/m. also this isn’t specific to this scene, but especially in hockey with all its nicknames, i like to write people’s internal narrative with whatever name they probably think of themselves as. that’s why nolan isn’t pat/patty here, and why tk is usually not travis)

“still me,” tk says, grinning at him with undisguised glee. he works the chips free and sits up, putting his weight just under nolan’s ribs so all the breath gets knocked out of him for a second.

“fucker,” nolan hisses, trying and failing to wriggle his way out. “what the fuck, teeks?”

“that’s what you get for not growing up with brothers, bro. gotta fight to survive. survival skills.”

“bud, you don’t even know. sisters have nails and they’re not fucking afraid to use them,” nolan says, his best murder glare in effect. he probably still has the scars in some places. (i know i do) tk snorts.

“sorry, i don’t see you scratching me here,” he says.

“let me go and i’ll scratch you up real good,” he threatens and then his brain catches up with his mouth, his face going red as he realises what he’s maybe implied. “uh.”

tk doesn’t take the obvious chirp, just raises an eyebrow. there’s a considering look on his face, one that makes nolan want to squirm more and it settles somewhere down deep in his stomach. (so i wrote this scene because i needed a turn for both of them, relationship-wise. iirc, there’s been a few places where tk’s interest might be noticeable, but nothing super concrete for pat or for the reader. meanwhile, on tk’s side, he needed clear signals that pat’s into him before he tries to tell him again.)

“uh,” he says again because his brain is just fucking offline and his arms are still locked under travis’ legs and travis burns hot because nolan can feel it against his skin, through his t-shirt, and this is all going to get incredibly, incredibly awkward in about three seconds. (unfortunately, i love a good run-on sentence to build tension) he’s pretty sure popping a boner because a teammate is sitting on you is, like, not something you can get away with by laughing.

tk shifts, sitting up the tiniest bit, and reaches out the hand that’s not currently occupied with the fuckin’ chips— probably all crushed to hell now, anyway (foreshadowing!! also strategic last mention here so we know that tk is still holding them, and then they aren’t mentioned until the shoe drops for optimal dramatic effect) — and brushes his fingers against nolan’s cheek. he traces the blush from his cheekbone carefully down his neck, pausing to thumb at his jaw, and then bumps his fingers against his collar, where it disappears down into his shirt. (i really liked building the tension here. also this is fully just projection bc i would love to touch patty’s blush once in my life)

“you’re glowing, pat,” he says, so soft, and it makes nolan go redder. he glowers at a spot by tk’s ear, unwilling to look him in the face and see whatever is written there. (would tk actually tell nolan he’s glowing? probably not, but fictionally it gives the reader a good picture of what nolan looks like to someone else. i didn’t want to overuse red-- which didn’t quite feel like a strong enough word-- or blush, so glowing it was.) tk hooks his index into the collar and there’s a moment when nolan thinks he’s going to pull it down, see if his blush goes all the way down his chest— it does, if he’s embarrassed enough. it’s fucking terrible— and he turns his head away, dragging in a breath through his nose. he’s, like, so incredibly fucked that he can’t even think about it without going dizzy. (you’ll probably see this a lot if you look for it in my writing, but i like to add in a “like” or something similarly bro-ish when things get particularly emotionally fraught, to keep it more realistic. also i think it’s funny. anyway, i like the contrast of tk not being able to take his eyes away from something he wanted and nolan not being able to look at it. characterisation, wahey!) it’s better to just not look.

of course, it’s the exact opposite of what tk wants.

“hey,” he says. “look at me.”

nolan refuses, a muscle ticking in his jaw. (this is hot to me idc) tk lets go of his collar to pull on his hair instead, just a little tug of a piece by his ear, and nolan can’t quite bite back the punched-out sound that he lets out. (also hot.)

“look at me,” tk says again, an edge to his voice, and nolan does. tk won’t stop until he does, he knows that well enough. (another look at their dynamic and how well they know each other) he lifts his chin, just a tiny bit, because he’s not going to do anything without a fight. tk’s hand tightens in his hair and it keeps him in place, nailed— ha— to the floor. (i write for the people whose brains make inappropriate jokes at the wrong moments) he couldn’t move if he wanted to, watches helplessly as tk leans down.

the hope in his chest is so thick, nolan thinks it might actually smother him, stop his heart. he’s breathing fast and shallow, almost on the verge of panting, and jesus fuck, isn’t that embarrassing. he’s so desperate, he could squirm with it and he briefly remembers travis months ago, writhing on his very rug and how much nolan wanted to help. he can smell snow again, sharp in the back of his nose. (this does the double work of calling back to an earlier scene-- ya girl loves a good callback-- and also building the anticipation some more. the snow reference reminds the reader that this is still a werewolf au, even in the midst of this. also, once when i was like fifteen, i read something about how to write kisses/romance and it talked about picking one or two aspects of the kiss to focus on-- breathing, hands, the feeling of someone’s mouth, etc. i still use that advice.)

tk shifts his weight and nolan has enough time to think holy fuck, is this happening? before travis fucking konecny upends the bag of all dressed-flavoured crumbs all over his face. (OKAY a lot going on here! it’s one of my favourite moments, really. first of all, here’s the resolution of all the chips talk! sure, i could’ve just abandoned them, but the subverting of expectations was a lot more fun and the story still wasn’t quite ready for them to kiss yet. second, this is tk chickening out. he had two choices and he chose violence. or, like, the buddies option, which is amusing to me because this is not buddies, boys. finally, the full name was necessary to convey nolan’s disappointment and anger, as was the full description of the chips. nolan is upset, and he’s going to notice these things, and that shows up in his internal narrative.)

“got ‘em,” he crows over nolan’s sputtering, letting himself get bucked off onto the floor. nolan wipes furiously at his face, all his feelings a confusing mix of horny and angry and confused, all with the thick overtone of humiliation.

“you’re a fucking dick,” he says and it’s flat, but tk is gloating too much to care. (he’s not, he’s trying to cover, but nolan’s too embarrassed to realise)

“you should’ve seen your face, pat.”

nolan glares daggers at the carpet, the chips spread out everywhere. it’s going to be a bitch to clean up. tk had better help. (makes sure the punch landed, and to give a final resolution.)

he leans against the sofa and waits for tk to tire himself out, listening to the laughter and trying not to get too angry or, like, cry. his neck feels hot, prickling uneasily. he rubs at it with his hand, startles when tk kicks him gently in the ankle. (in order for tk to not come out of this looking like an asshole, i needed him to make up his obliviousness by being observant in other times. and in order for tk to notice patty being mad, i needed to give patty actions that could be noticed, like not laughing along with the joke)

“sorry if i made you mad,” tk says quietly, all the giggles finally worked out of him. “you looked tense (no shit bud) and i thought it would make you laugh.”

it’s not tk’s fault nolan thought he was gonna, like, kiss him. (”like” again, to break up a too-honest moment) it was a dick move but tk doesn't have a cruel bone in his body, so: “it’s fine,” he mumbles and shrugs his shoulder. “it was funny.”

tk preens for a second. “i know.”

“you owe me a bag now.”

“i’ll buy you a family-sized pack. i’m sure they’ll ship it down here, amazon or ups or somethin’.” (patty’s attempting to be normal and tk is attempting to make amends.)

nolan nods and scratches at his face, tipping his head against the couch cushions. (little motions like him scratching his face aren’t super necessary for like plot or development, but it helps humanize characters and i like to add them in whenever i can, as long as it’s not overkill. they can also be helpful in pointing to emotional state without directly saying it.) it’s quiet for a few seconds, just the sound of them breathing heavier than usual, and it would be so normal. should be normal, by all counts, but nolan still kind of wants to crawl into a hole for while. wants to push tk out of the apartment and eat ice cream and google ‘how to stop a crush,’ like his sisters used to do when they were upset. he’s already googled it, a few days ago, and there was nothing but maybe someone’s offered good advice since then. (people make an impact on you, and family even more so, and i always like reminders of how close nolan seems to be with his sisters. also, it’s funny.)

tk flicks him on the wrist. (this is something that tk does consistently through the story, and even though it’s not super important to this scene, it establishes a behaviour in the larger story. that’s important too!)

“pat,” he says and it sounds it’s not the first time. nolan blinks.

“yeah?”

“i just asked you if you were hungry.”

“oh. uh. no, not really,” he answers truthfully. tk wrinkles his nose.

“do you, like, have anything in your fridge to eat?”

“mm, probably not.”

“typical,” tk mutters under his breath, as if he ever has anything regularly stocked besides protein powder and bacon. (protein rich foods that are easy to eat after a full moon, or after a workout) at least nolan has eggs pretty consistently. (also a protein rich food that’s less easy to eat after a full moon, but are easy to make when you aren’t a werewolf) “wanna go get sushi?”

nolan thinks about it. shoves his sweaty hair behind his ear and considers going out to their favourite place and pretending he’s not still fucking mortified. and, like, a little turned on. it makes him nauseous. (i get such physical reactions to emotional things that i write everyone into having them)

“no,” he says. he’s not facing tk but he can still see him deflate, his shoulders hunching over. “i don’t— no.”

“okay. that’s… okay.”

“i think i’m getting a migraine,” lies nolan. “think i’m just gonna lay down.”

“do you need me to stay with you? keep you company?”

nolan’s shaking his head before tk even finishes the thought. “no, trav. i’m fine, i promise.” (the trav here works as a signal that something isn’t right! it’s why tk looks at him for so long in the next line.)

tk studies him for a long minute, his eyes searching the side of patty’s face presented to him. nolan keeps his expression as blank as possible and stares hard at his feet.

“text me if you need anything,” he says finally, the words coming out slow and gentle. it’s a lot to handle. “i’ll come back.”

“i know. i will.” he won’t, but that’s not for tk to know. he doesn’t move when tk goes out the door, squeezes his eyes shut when the door doesn’t slam into its frame, (tk’s taking care of him, still!) and decides to leave the pile of crumbs to deal with later. (the climax of this scene happened a while ago so this is another little reminder of what happened, just so it’s solidified in the reader’s head after the longish comedown. i end scenes a LOT like this-- two actions, and then a callback-- because they’re simple and effective, and usually sound great!) /fin

ahh thank you so much for asking!! this was really fun to, like, process through and remember my logic for! i was actually really nervous writing this scene, because i knew the tension and the break had to be PERFECT for it to land right. but i do like how it turned out so at least there’s that. ily!!

#it took longer to write but i had fun!!#thank you caitlyn!!!!!!#fic talk #hockey rpf #hockey bros #my fic #hockey #tk/patty #idiots to lovers #cactusandfir #long post

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kittybellestark · 4 years

Text

Okay I think Time Can Heal All, But Maybe Not This has been out long enough that I can actually talk about it

If you haven’t read TCHABMNT yet there’s gonna be some spoilers but you can find it here

EDIT: I forgot to talk about May bc I did this at night when I was really tired and my brain just wanted to talk about Peter ig, that is my absolute bad so I added that in everything else is the same tho

So obvs y’all know I had troubles with getting it published here and there’s still been some struggles but I wanna actually talk about the story.

So I started writing it a few months ago but only got 7 paragraphs in before not knowing where to bring the story. Originally the line “And Peter is terrified” was supposed to end that paragraph.

After that the fic was going to be all fluff and Harley and Tony trying to reassure Peter that his insecurities aren’t going to come to fruition.

But then I had a bad day. And the story had been sitting in my drafts forever. So I figured out how to continue the story.

Make Peter feel alone.

I had to keep the snap canon because otherwise there’s be no other plausible way for all of Peter’s family to just ditch him and for Flash and Peter to become friends.

I had to make it so that everyone in Peter’s life moved on without him.

So May moved to Italy and has a boyfriend who Peter assumes will be her husband by the time he’s 20, she has her dream job and is doing what she loves.

She moved out to Italy to forget Peter. It was for selfish reasons, she lost everything in her life, her husband, his family (Peter’s parents), her parents had died years prior and now Peter is also dead. She’s left alone and she doesn’t know what to do. So May moves to Italy to forget Peter and forget the pain and grief she feels. She doesn’t want to remember him.

By trying to forget she finds a new life. She’s a version of who Peter could have become. May is alone with no one, left behind in a world that lost everything. She has a new family and she can’t give it all up to move half way across the world. May would be uprooting her whole family. She moved on from Peter. Tried her hardest to forget him.

May wants to have a relationship with Peter, she just mentally cannot handle having him back in her life because then that opens up the possibility of Ben being back in her life, or her parents, or Peter’s parents even. By acknowledging that Peter is back for more than a phone call or a FaceTime it’ll send her spiraling. May has crafted this reality for herself and it is safe and she cannot give it up.

She loves Peter, of course she does, but having him back will only hurt her more.

I still think it’s canon, in this story, that Tony reversed what Thanos did for Peter. And I couldn’t just kill Tony off either because that wouldn’t really be as painful as Peter just not having contact with him after everything.

It’s not because Tony just forgot Peter existed that they don’t really talk at the beginning. Obviously the affect of snapping left Tony seriously injuries and I referenced that in the story, “…Tony needed a lot more attention after the snap due to his injuries…” so Peter doesn’t really have the full idea of what his injuries are like, but I imagine pretty horrible, which would mean that Pepper wouldn’t be able to move him very soon.

Not to mention Morgan, who is born post snap and now the world had doubled in population and suddenly her father is so badly injuries he can’t be moved. That’s traumatizing on a child of her age, and then try and move her into the city?? That’s going to cause lasting affects on her mental health so of course the Starks are going to do what they can for Peter, but they have some really big things they need to deal with too.

But the Starks did move back into the city for him, it’s just a little late, because Peter is now going away for school. It’s not that they didn’t put an effort in to be with him, it’s just that they were spread thin between the Tony’s recovery, having Morgan cope, the company, what’s left of the avengers, trying and get themselves back to the city and being in the midst of what is probably an economic crisis.

When Peter turns 22 there’s a line “Just some empty seats and empty promises,” which isn’t much to go on, but a little bit later when Peter is thirty I wrote that Tony also has an 8 year old son. So Tony and Pepper were supposed to go to Peter’s MIT graduation, but she went into labour and they couldn’t go. It’s such a small little thing that’d be easily missed, but I wanted to sprinkle in that Tony and Pepper were trying to make an effort with Peter at least. But then they have another kid and being parents is hard enough, but now two kids? That’s hard, they’re going to forgot to prioritize Peter, especially when he hasn’t been a priority yet.

I felt it was important to give Peter someone though. Which is why Peter and Flash are friends through the story. It’s unlikely, and it wouldn’t have happened had they not been left behind. In the beginning I had wanted to have Flash and Peter get together romantically at some point, but that felt like a cop out, and too predictable. Which is why Flash ended up with Peter’s P.A, Gwen (yes Gwen Stacy). Having Flash move on with his life could either give Peter the idea that he could have what Flash has, because they’ve been in the same boat forever, or it could lead him to think that he’s incapable of having a life like that.

I had originally written that Peter tells Flash about Spider-Man, about how he can’t put on his suit without getting really bad flashbacks and panic attacks about what happened. But I didn’t want to turn this story to be about Spider-Man, because it’s not. This isn’t about Spider-Man’s struggles to get the suit back on and save people, this is about Peter’s struggles with mental health and his addiction. In my head Peter told Flash when they were still in high school, sitting on the bleachers in the evening, drinking a bottle of whiskey that Flash stole from his Dad’s liquor cabinet, which would also be the beginning to Peter’s alcoholism. But I ultimately didn’t feel like it was necessary to add to the story. It is something I’m willing to write out in the future though.

It felt really important for me to make everything in the story connect with each other. Peter goes to school at MIT, which is in Boston, where Ned lived when he was an adult (and we know that’s also where Tony went to school), and Peter is in California when he meets Harley again, where MJ went to school (Tony also previously lived in Cali). Everything needed to be connected to the life Peter lost. Which is also why there are so many similarities in Peter’s life now and Tony’s life before he settled down.

Tony went to MIT, well now so does Peter. Tony is an alcoholic with preference for whiskey? Yeah, Peter too. Tony is pretty much alone except for Rhodey? Peter is also alone, but he has Flash. Tony had suicidal and self-destructive tendencies? Peter has only tried killing himself multiple times. By making Peter into a version of Tony, it brings a reference to SM:HC, where Peter says after the ferry boat accident, “I just wanted to be like you” and Tony responds “And I wanted you to be better.” Peter is Tony, he’s just found fame and fortune at a different time, runs his own company and makes ground-breaking research that will help the world.

It’s why Peter is so hurt when he’s called (look a SM:FFH reference) “The Next Tony Stark.” He already is Tony Stark, except he doesn’t have the happiness or the family Tony currently has. Peter just has Flash and his assistant Gwen (just like young Tony only had Rhodey and Pepper). Peter being a version of Tony Stark, he can’t really see an escape. He is so horribly hurt and the only way he can see there being peace in his life is if he isn’t alive. Which is why he continues to try and kill himself.

I didn’t want Peter to die though, I wanted him to find something that would make life tolerable. Which is why I reintroduced Harley. Peter tries to ignore Harley, pretend he doesn’t recognize him, because Peter doesn’t want to remember his past and who he was and what he lost anymore. Harley being there is such a big reminder of who he used to be and who he wants to be, that Peter wants Harley to go away. He doesn’t acknowledge that he knows Harley, even when Harley all but says ‘I’m Harley Keener’ to Peter. At this point in the story Peter made up his mind that he is going to die. There was no other option, but then this beacon of hope shows up and Peter doesn’t want it anymore.

I think by reintroducing Harley it was important to never say that Peter and Harley end up together or that they’re still in contact. I left that pretty open ended because Harley just swooped in at the last second and stopped Peter from killing himself. Peter’s recovery is clearly not an easy one because that was when Peter is 30 and it’s only when Peter turns 32 that he’s one month sober. It was important that you don’t know who is Peter’s family. Because maybe it’s not the Starks or MJ and Ned or Harley or May. Maybe Peter moved on from his past they way they all had and has finally made peace with life, or maybe Peter’s past is now in his life again and he’s happy because he has what he always missed.

Everything in this story was so deliberate and there’s so much that I did that’s just these small little things and I love it so much. I think it was important to see Peter struggle with life and death and his mental illnesses.

So yeah, I’m completely in love with this story and if you guys have any questions about it please send me some asks and I’ll totally answer them, I’m just not over this story yet and I really want to talk about it some more !!

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captainsassmanes · 4 years

Note

Trissshhhhh I have a dialogue prompt for you from that list, and bc you know I freaking love angst. “Take me instead” for Malex

Warnings: This one is heavy. Tw: violence, descriptions of injuries, torture, cursing, Jesse Fucking Manes.

Alex’s vision blurred and he realized, slower than he would have liked, that he could see nothing out of his left eye. He sent out a quick prayer that it was just swelling, nothing permanent.

What that meant, either way, was that he couldn’t clearly see the blows before they came anymore. Maybe a small blessing. Maybe really shitty luck.

“Did Max Evans heal Elizabeth Ortecho from a bullet wound?”

The voice of who he’d learned was Staff Sargent Mitchell menaced in his ear.

Alex was in agony. He’d barely eaten in what he figured was weeks, his stomach twisting in a hunger so severe it ached. He’d been beaten everyday, his injuries never having the chance to begin healing. There was a cut on his arm he was sure had become infected and it sat in the perfect spot to send shooting pains straight up his dominant arm every few seconds.

The first few days, maybe a little longer, of his captivity, he’d fought back: pulled against his restraints, spit in Mitchell’s face, laughed in his father’s. He could still remember reasons to be free again and to keep his mouth shut.

Michael. Kyle. Isobel. Michael. Max. Liz. Michael. Arturo. Mimi. Maria. Michael.

He’d repeat their names when he was alone in his cell, pitch black with the smell of dampness and mold filling his nostrils. He’d pull up memories of them, his brain filtering through them all to feature only the best ones.

Getting high with Maria and laughing for hours. Study sessions with Liz that were more milkshakes and gossip than anything else. Sparing with Isobel, watching confidence radiate off her. Waking up next to Michael, watching the sun light up his tan skin, watching his chest rise and fall, the feel of his chest hair, wiry and thick. The little snores he let out when he slept on his back. The way Michael’s hands felt on his own skin, callused and so full of love.

He never cried from the pain, from the fear, from the threats.

But he’d cried when he thought of Michael.

Eventually, unable to deny it, the reality of the situation set in. Alex figured he’d been held for about two weeks. The meetings with his father, demented, psychological warfare, evolved to insure Alex knew no one was looking for him. No one gave a shit. No one missed him.

Kyle continued to go to work, date his precious, new co-worker. Liz and Max were rekindling their romance while Rosa, who they’d discovered almost instantly, continued to dance in the shadows. Isobel was event planning during the day and, according to sources, blowing up bigger and bigger things in the middle of the night.

And then there were Michael and Maria.

Jesse never hesitated to keep Alex well informed with that relationship. The dates they went on. The visits to see Mimi. The hand holding. The love making. The laughter and the smiles.

It had been just a couple of evenings ago, Alex lying on his back, arm on fire and bleeding from his head, when the tears finally stopped. He pictured Michael and Maria, arms wrapped around one another, eyes locked with wide smiles painted across their beautiful faces. He imagined ease and comfort and simplicity. Kindness and consideration, dedication and loyalty.

“Keep them safe...happy,” Alex whispered to no one.

From that moment on, he tucked it all away; his emotions, his pain, his reactions. He had nothing to give them and refused to yield even an inch.

His eyes met Mitchell’s and Alex made no effort to move. He didn’t shrug or smirk or blink an eye. He would give them nothing.

“What exactly can Isobel Evans do?”

Alex was unmoved. He took the next hit, breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth.

“Can Michael Guerin move objects with his mind?”

Alex felt a small wave of pride as he remained stoic at the mention of Michael’s name.

The next hit knocked him to the ground, the chair he was tied to coming right down with him. The military issues boots hurt like a son of a bitch, Alex feeling his insides bruising with each kick, until he couldn’t help but let out the vomit he’d been trying to hold back.

“Enough, Mitchell. Stand down.”

The kicking stopped as Mitchell took a few steps back and stood at attention. Jesse came to stand before him, feet still and silence filling the room.

“Pick him up.”

When they came face to face, Alex searched. He searched his father’s features for any indication that Jesse felt something, anything.

It was fruitless.

“This is all you’re gonna give us, son?”

Alex raised an eyebrow, not at the question but at the term of endearment.

With a shallow breath, ribs screaming in protest, he mumbled, “you’ve already taken everything. I’m not giving you shit. Dad.”

Jesse nodded, a familiar look of disappointment in his eyes. “Very well.”

The walk down the long hall felt surprisingly freeing. Alex knew this was it, the end of his journey. Jesse and whoever else was working for him had done what they could to get any information out of him. They must have realized he wouldn’t speak and no one cared enough to try to save him.

So it was time.

He wondered briefly if the stories his mom used to tell him as a boy were true. A great warrior may be able to rest in a peaceful, safe afterlife, or maybe reincarnate as human again to try once more, to live another noble life. Or, perhaps, his sins were too great. He’d end up falling into an abyss for eternity or come back but as a roach or something.

Truthfully, he’d never given much thought to death. Losing his leg had changed that a bit but he still did what he could to focus on the present, moment to moment. Maybe that helped him now. He still felt more curious than afraid.

Alex just hoped for peace.

As the small group turned the final corner, he was pushed back as the sound of guns cocking echoed through the space.

He craned his neck, trying to see what had happened, but couldn’t see past the mammoth solider in front of him.

“Stand down. Now. Hands up.”

“Aw, c’mon now, boys. No way to greet a visitor, is it?”

Alex stumbled a bit, head spinning and heart racing. It wasn’t possible. Not now when he was ready.

If he was being honest, there were nights, bitter, lonely, angry nights when he hated his friends, hated Michael for leaving him, abandoning him completely when he needed them most. He wasn’t the best friend but he did what they needed, helped where he could, took the blows he was dealt. And it got him what? Kidnapped. Left to be tortured and die. Alone.

But once he’d rested, once the blood stopped pulsing so loudly in his ears, he knew it was best. It was what he truly wanted. He’d never want Michael or the Evans’ to risk their safety, their secret, for him. And his other friends, they wouldn’t stand a chance against these fucking sadists.

It was best for all of this to end with him.

But now, as Michael stood in the space that was meant for Alex’s last moments, he couldn’t think.

“You’re nothing in here, Mr. Guerin.” His father’s voice was laced with condescension and excitement.

“Take me instead.”

Alex stopped breathing. Michael’s voice sounded calm and even, bordering on arrogant if that was possible with at least six guns pointed at him. Alex tried to speak but Mitchell beat him.

“If you haven’t noticed, asshole, you’re already taken.”

The sound of Michael’s laugh hit Alex’s ears and, beyond all reason, he smiled. That sound was so rare Alex couldn’t help but treasure it every time, even in the most dire of circumstances.

“Am I?” He felt the soldiers in front of him shift, a sudden change in the air. “Tell me, Master Sargent, why are you under the impression that I’m nothing?”

Alex grit his teeth and grimaced with the pain as he stretched as tall as he could. His eyes locked with Michael’s and Alex knew. There had been a plan. Thank fuck Michael had a plan.

The urge to sob and be held against Michael’s chest, wrapped in his strong arms was overwhelming.

“This place is so loaded with powder you won’t be able to shift a paper clip you fucking freak.”

Alex watched as Michael’s curls danced, moving with the nodding of his head.

“Yikes. I guess I didn’t realize. But I do have one more question.” He pointed to himself as he added, “curious by nature.”

He watched the hands of the soldier in front of him begin to shake, fingers gripping his weapon a bit too tightly. Alex smirked. Maybe they were starting to put it together.

With a voice suddenly full of anger and vitrol, Michael asked the room, “how the fuck do you think I got in here?”

In the blink of an eye, a force Alex couldn’t see pushed him against the wall, air leaving him with the strength of it. He gazed in wonderment, as if watching a movie or a perfect moment of a play, as the soldiers firearms all turned to white doves, flying confused and frightened around the space.

Each soldier died without Michael needing to move a muscle, his face unchanged, although his eyes had shifted from a stunning hazel to completely black. Alex thought he’d never looked better.

When the final man fell to the floor in a bloody pile, Michael turned that black, empty gaze to Alex. Jesse floated out of the room, chin lifted and struggling for air, and into the hall, toes barely touching the now stained linoleum.

Alex understood Michael’s silent question.

With difficulty, Alex stood, discovering his restraints had literally vanished. He met his father’s glare, searching one, last time for some semblance of shame, regret, sadness. He found nothing but disgust and hatred.

Cradling his core, Alex stood straight, the Manes man his father had always wanted him to be. He didn’t remove his eyes from his fathers and his voice didn’t waiver as he said, “lock him in and blow it up.”

Jesse’s body flew backward and into the room with his ever-obedient team. He landed on the floor, on his hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air.

Michael had moved to stand beside Alex, eyes now the stunning gold he normally wore, and took Alex’s bloody, broken hand in his.

“Don’t worry, Jesse.” Michael brought Alex’s hand up to his mouth and placed a delicate, gentle kiss to the back of it, mouth coming away scarlet with blood. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Jesse snarled and moved to stand before the door slammed shut and locked, Jesse’s screams slipping under the space of the door.

Alex stood, stunned, that it was finally over, that Michael was here, that Jesse would be gone, that he would live.

“We’ve gotta go.”

Alex nodded but didn’t move.

“Will you, Michael?”

“Will I what, Alex?”

He was too exhausted to keep the break from his voice. “Take care of me.”

Michael smiled as Alex felt his body become immeasurably lighter, moving without making any effort at all. Michael wrapped an arm around Alex and pulled him into his side.

“Forever if you’ll let me.”

Alex never imagined his happy ending would begin with an explosion.

#Roswell New Mexico #Malex #Malex fic #tw: abuse #tw: violence #tw: torture #tw: cursing #angst #angst with a hopeful ending #my fic #fic for Denver #barely edited

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dndfuckhouse · 3 years

Text

session 33 - Introductions and Invitations

youtube

> 🎵 Sword Search on Koholint Island / LOZ: Link’s Awakening (2019) OST.

After having spent the whole of the morning walking around the group find themselves drawn to the smell of fish wafting around the city square and head over towards the nearby café to refuel themselves over lunch.

After being greeted by the upbeat waitress they seat themselves and begin pondering the menu. The feeling of the bright midday sun beating down on their heads while the cool seaside breeze blows through keeps them company amongst the townspeople in the city square.

Cimmorro: the image rn is finn cimm han plum rokka in the same table..... psalm also but at the edge??? Chip: dnd cafe marching order being determined rn Celebrity Guest Aki: WHY DOES THIS SOUND SO UNBALANCEDD Rokka: BC IT IS Psalm: achieving total mental blankness trying to imagine this Keva:

Finn: im ordering nothing because i literally cant eat or drink Psalm: just ask for the bloodwine alone Finn: yeah ill just inconspicuously ask for fish blood in isolation Plum: they got that just for you actually the blood drink, god put that on there for you finn Psalm: yeah we called ahead

Noticing Keva struggling with the menu, Cimmorro moves to lend her a land subtly. Meanwhile Plum tells Finn they can order the dish that comes with fish blood and split it with him if he’d like.

Keva: she's not really looking at the menu much.... you probably just see her watching everyone else and checking the number on the menu for the thing they order Cimmorro: okay well he's going to look at you for a good second, contemplating if he should offer to help but realizes that might be a bad idea so he's just going to go get the waitress' attention and go like "what would be your best sellers here? and what you would recommend?" Cherry: she hums and thinks "i'd say the sea bed or the prawn's eyes usually sell pretty well! the salty dog ale is a local specialty as well, id recommend it if you aren't made queasy easy" she says with a laugh Keva: trying to picture wtf sea bed and salty dog could mean Cimmorro: (dwfl he wanted to order the sea bed) cimm nods at her and looks at the menu "10 sp for the sea bed... fish and bread sounds appealing today huh i'll have one," he says alla this w/ intention for keva to hear. and adds, "i think i'll just have a glass of water though, thanks" Keva: she looks at cimm for a moment, silently feeling grateful, and says "same as him" tilting her menu a bit towards cimm and hands the menu back

Plum: plum turns to finn and says "i could order this," and points to the caver's treat, "and you could have the cup of blood that comes with it, if you're hungry." Finn: hes already spacing out when plum suddenly speaks to him, whipping his head around a little startled. "oh" admittedly, finn wasn't hungry, or thirsty, but plums attentiveness does touch him a little. he nods. "that is very kind of you plum... if you truly do not mind, then ... id appreciate that." Plum: "sure, no problem" plum says to finn and takes a sip from their drink. they wave the waitress over to order one ＣＡＶＥＲ＇ＳＴＲＥＡＴ

The Group’s Orders ~ 🐟

Plum: Reaver’s Luck, Caver’s Treat Rokka: Berried Salmon, Reaver’s Luck Psalm: Berried Salmon Han: The Phoenix, Fishers Teeth (takeout - Caver’s Treat ) Keva: Sea Bed Cimmorro: Sea Bed

Taking the orders, the waitress gives a nod and scuttles off. After a small wait the dishes are brought out, the scent of fish overpowering the place. The group find their meals appetising and begin to dig in and chatter amongst themselves. Finn stealthily transfers the bloodwine into a cup of his own he can discretely drink from while Keva wraps and saves a slice of the bread for later consumption.

Finn: he clinks his glass with plum to thank them for the fish but before he takes a sip he blinks "oh... what are we to do with the fish plum?" Plum: they clink their mug with finn's and then gives him a confused look. after a moment they look like they're trying not to laugh a little. "what made you think i wasn't gonna...eat it?" plum asks before picking up a fork. Finn: "i simply thought it might be a bit much.. is all.." feeling a little stupid for having asked now. "and it is meant to be eaten with the blood after all.. " Plum: "oh, nah. it was two gold pieces so i'd better finish it, honestly," plum says and starts eating. "also i don't really want the blood," they stop and make a hand gesture as if to say that finn can just go ahead and enjoy the blood himself. Finn: he fails to control himself and finish listening to plum, chugging the glass in one go, feeling particularly satisfied and sated for now. "ah, please... i will pay for it of course, you ordered this for my sake" he says quickly as if he didnt just drink that like a possessed man Han: finns eyes do the cat silly time thing Cimmorro: yess finn goo you fucking horse Han: vibrates in his chair cause he got the blood zoomies

Plum: "or we can just split it" plum says casually, not saying anything at the change in finn's demeanour for a moment there. it'd probably be rude to seem a bit surprised.

Rokka: “LOOKING GOOD” Cimmorro: "kinda pog as they say...." cimm gives his thanks to wee jasus christ and begins to eat in a decent pace... just focused on eating Rokka: halfway through chewing rokka talks with his mouth full, "watsh pogh" Cimmorro: cimm looks disgusted at you, once again, for talking with your mouth full. and just goes. "oh you know like- [does the pog face for a split second]" before going back to his food though he looks up at you again the next second and goes like "oh right. rokka, here." he slides 35gp across the table to you. "for the time at nickels." and he just goes back to eating Rokka: "ohhh so then if i wanted to say my food is "pog" i can just [makes the pog face]?" he looks down at the money "oh! you didn't have to pay me back....thanks though!" le pockets money Han: han goes (mgs ❗ noise) and starts fishing in her side pocket too "wait i owe you for bedroll and rope" and hands rokka X gold Rokka: he then turns to han "WHAT!!! NO, NO ITS OKAY!!" he tries to push it back to han Han: she doesn't even touch it again and goes back to food "i dont like being in debt" Rokka: he stares at the xgp before reluctantly taking it seeing as han refusing to take it back "alrigghtt. thanks hannn" Han: 😇 Psalm: he watches Rokka’s exchanges for a moment. "It just occurred to me that now would be a good time for that drink you owe me." Cimmorro: cimm looks at rokka and psalm and goes "i'm starting to learn that it's a bad idea to be in debt to you psalm" Psalm: "I think I'm pretty fair all things considered 😇 " Cimmorro: he just sighs and goes back to his food

Rokka: his head whips over to psalm like !!!!! "i-WHAT--oh! yeah....do you.......want to share my drink?" Psalm: "No I don't...?" Rokka: well, then.......what do you want?" Psalm: "One salty dog ale please (: ." Han: did chip plan for this joke. its too perfect? Psalm: WAIT YOU'RE SO RIGHT Han: I LEGIT THOUGHT IT WAS A GAG U WERE DOING AND LOOKED AT THE MENU Chip: LIFE FINDS A WAY....

Ghester: you hear a chuckle in your head followed by a voice that says "well he's a good sportsman about it" Psalm: "It was his idea to play." Rokka: he looks around "HUH WHAT?!" Ghester: "that makes a person more reluctant sometimes" he then laughs at rokka's reaction Psalm: he scoffs. Rokka: he abruptly stands up from the table and shaking the table in the process "OK WHATS GOING ON"

Getting agitated by Ghester’s repeated remarks, Rokka bolts up from his seat ending all other conversation in his wake, the rest of the party stares at him, grabbing their plates instinctually in case he flipped the table over. The waitress in the meanwhile hands Pslam his newly purchased drink on Rokka’s dime.

Ghester: "oh he's gotten excited" says the voice Rokka: “WHO!?” Psalm: psalm is just drinking casually

Cimmorro: when rokka finally settles down, cimm just looks at him like 🤨 before looking at psalm again, "speaking of being fair, why don't you tell us about your little friend... ghester? you said you'd tell us about them, no?" Psalm: * doesn't remember what he said * "Yeah alright. I introduced Plum and you already right?" Cimmorro: he nods "introduced us... but we don't even know who or what you introduced us to" Rokka: just looking up at the sky like "....hello?" Plum: they had jumped at rokka's reaction but at the mention of their name by psalm they think they can guess what's happening now. Finn: he was gonna reply to plum but because of all the commotion his attention is focused on psalm rn, but he is bouncing his leg under the table Keva: she just has no idea what's going on

Psalm: "Your guess is honestly as good as mine." @ ghester "You want to explain? I myself am not really sure what to say." Ghester: he chuckles before speaking into the rest of your heads "hmm... well you may call me ghester. i am a companion of sorts to your lovely friend psalm here. pleasure to meet you" Rokka: "ghost...........?" side eyes psalm Psalm: "No I don't think that's quite it." Rokka: “then what?” Psalm: he just shrugs Rokka: rokka slowly nods as if he gets it but he doesnt

Keva: she jumps a bit "what the fuck" Plum: plum shivers at the sudden voice in their head. "i really thought the cult would be the weirdest thing with y'all and yet." Han: she squints her eyes "can you like, read our minds? do you have a body? are you stealing psalms...?" han leans in quizzically and stares at psalm Ghester: he laughs "no i cannot read anyone's mind, not even his. nor do i hold any control over him, i dont think he'd quite appreciate me doing it even if i could" he thinks "i dont have a body, though i feel like maybe i did once, a funny thought to have these days" Han: she pouts thoughtfully but her brain is actually empty "hmmm" Cimmorro: damn so no cock penis? Han: hate your ass Finn: im just imagining the voice of the book from nier rn for this guy Chip: YOU SHOULD THATS HIM Plum: oh my god that was the decided voice, thats so horrible Han: liam obrien haunts us everywhere

Finn: he does squint at psalm, but he thinks that ghester’s voice is quite pleasant so its not like its a huge hassle. after psalm told them about this, at least. he is a bit irritated over having thought he was hallucinating it a while ago. Plum: "doesn't sound like he's been with you for too long" Psalm: "It's been a couple weeks. Maybe a month." Plum: "wow, that's shorter than i expected. i've already known you fuckers for a week by now." Cimmorro: he just kinda looks confused towards psalm and responds to ghester "uhh huh... are you the reason why he coughs smoke or..." Psalm: he’s just blinking at Cimm like oh you saw that lol whoops Ghester: "not directly, but its related. i guess you could say im a conduit for his magic. in charge of watching over him" Cimmorro: just shaking his head at psalm and how he said they've only been together for a short time... like what is wrong with yall

Finn: "and you just.... hid this from us?" Ghester: he chuckles at you finn "thats a funny response" Finn: "im sure it is after youve messed with all our heads" bouncing his leg quicker Psalm: "What reason would I have to tell you? It's not like I've known any of your for all that long." Plum: looking at finn like you good bro Finn: "if you didnt want to tell us you should do better to keep your parasite out of our minds then" Ghester: "ooh quite harsh" Psalm: “Right? Yeesh. Why am I being put on trial here? He called you a parasite (lol)." Cimmorro: "i get the feeling that you don't wanna share more about this. but i just wanna know if you communicating with the rest of us like this won't harm us in any way..." no video game rpg sanity drain so to speak Keva: squinting like wtf does magic do to you...... is orin okay...... Ghester: "oh nothing to worry about there, my job is to keep him safe. If you are his friends then this extends to you as well, quite the opposite of harm" he turns his attention back to you psalm and laughs at his joke Cimmorro: cimm just hums at this, not entirely convinced but it's good for now Finn: just staring at you for a moment longer before looking away, expecting psalm to understand without actually saying anything because he's awful. Psalm: Psalm just 🤨 ...? and just decides to go back to his drink. Finn: finn: dear uncle, ive witnessed another cringe moment. this is number 10 in the top15 list

Psalm: "I think friends is generous :j , but rest assured that for now your life isn't being slowly siphoned away from you or whatever it is youre worried about. At least I don't think it is /s" Ghester: "i wonder why you would even put the thought out...? Psalm: "Because it's funny?" Ghester: [sigh] Plum: "thanks, i feel a lot better about that now." Rokka: just staring at u dead on sarcasm flying over "wait......HAVE U BEEN FEEDING OFF ME" Ghester: he laughs jovially at you "theres nothing on you to eat dear boy" Han: han thinks 'damn... does he mean rokka has no brains to eat....'

Han: she thinks for a bit "do you have big range? before you cannot hear us?" Ghester: "hmm from wherever our good man here is standing i can hear about 120 or so feet...granted you yell when you are far away that is" Han: "does that mean you hear through psalm? and here i thought you would be useful for undercover work" han sighs a bit Psalm: "I have to agree with you on that one. Kind of disappointing." Ghester: "not necessarily, if he cant hear i still can. i can talk to you all if you are all that far away as well even if he himself isnt close" @ psalm "and here i thought you were my one ally at this table" Psalm: :j Han: "oh hmmm... that suppose that is useful..." han thinks abt strategies.. Keva: she sarcastically mumbles "just what i always wanted, a ghost from i don't know where doing god knows what, listening in on whatever i'm doing" Ghester: he laughs Rokka: he mumbles to himself after hearing this "scary..." Cimmorro: well then he stifles a small laugh and looks at keva "what could possibly go wrong, yeah?" Keva: "can't think of a single thing" Psalm: "It's thanks to him (and plum) we didn't lose your money to Rickert though. So I'd say for now the pros are more than the cons." Ghester: "oh such rare praise" Cimmorro: "oho is he not always this nice to you?" Ghester: "tis' a heavy burden i carry" Psalm: "Stop framing it like I'm picking sides" Ghester: [laugh] Plum: "true, and he's more personable than his host," plum says jokingly Psalm: "Alright, alright already." psalm waves everyone off Han: han is like 👁 but also snorting at this

Cimmorro: "aww you poor thing... psalm be more nice... i think ghester does care about you, you know... he immediately went to me when you were unconscious." Psalm: he just rolls his eyes Ghester: "well... as far as charges go i could have been given far worse" you feel a warm presence before he snickers "try not to bully him too much" Han: "far worse?" Ghester: "hmm well imagine if i were companion to someone completely silent...now that would be a trial" Han: she ponders the previous thought "you are right (@ ghester) at least psalm is funny sometimes." Psalm: 🤨 "Okay, pester Psalm hour is over now. Hope you all had your fun." SWATS THE AIR IN FUTLITY Ghester: [laugh] Plum: they wants to say we're not even talking to you we're talking to ghester but they'll leave him alone Keva: she snorts at the try not to bully him and pops a piece of bread into her mouth Cimmorro: he smiles at the warmth but also "no bullying, not even in your honor? you are so humble, king..." and just laughs at psalm swatting everyone off Psalm: "I try." Ghester: he laughs "you'll be fun to be around im sure" Keva: "oh he likes you" like someone talking abt a pet taking a liking to someone Cimmorro: "he knows how to pick them... " he laughs and responds to ghester "if you ever change your mind on bullying psalm, you know who to call"

Plum: "you changed your mind pretty fast, huh?" @cimmorro, plum is amused they're not making fun of him Cimmorro: "oh i'll still get him whenever i can. just leaving the offer with ghester in case he wants to join in." Plum: "oh, i meant on warming up to psalm's mind demon in the first place, but true" plum says Cimmorro: "oh well he's a charmer. what's not to like" he laughs Plum: "agreed" Ghester: "flattery will get you everywhere" Plum: "hah, i guess that's true ain't it." flattery's not really their thing, but they give an amused laugh.

Finished with their food and their curiosity over Ghester for the moment sated, some of the party get up to go pay for their meals while others continue to sit and chat. As they do Han continues messing about and pulling Ghester’s attention over.

Han: she covers her mouth with her hands and whispers to herself "ghesterrrrr can you hear me? tell psalm he looks like a strawberry." then get distracted and moves her hands "actually, can you move things? or are you simply ghostly" Ghester: "i cannot. lest i am a weapon psalm has willed me into and is...well using me to move things" a beat passes "all these ghost comparisons are amusing" Han: "ooooh... maybe living weapon... cool :D" Psalm: "He's what I've been fighting with this entire time." Keva: she’s gonna get up and head to the counter where she spies people paying for their food, and as she passes psalm she kinda gives a little shrug like "i tried" to change the subject lol Psalm: psalm nods, benedict cumberbatch salute

Han: she has lightbulb moment "your weapon that seems to change every time i look? and that you never actually carry on you?" Psalm: "Yes that would be the one."

To drive the point home psalm has Ghester discreetly apperate in his hands as a short sword for Han.

Cimmorro: psalm like yosuke persona 4 pulling out his katanas at the convenience store and gets arrested for it Psalm: I ASSUME EVERYON EELSE HER JUST HAS WEAPONS HONESTLY LIKE I THOUGHT THAT Cimmorro: NO ONE WHIPS IT OUT IN A RESTO Psalm: HDG WELL I DO NOW Cimmorro: AND THEN WE HANDED PSALM CHAN OVER TO THE POLICE

Han: "ghester, can i have you?? it would be super useful to change from bow to glaive in second.." han is v excited now Finn: he’s getting up yet, being intrigued by an ever changing weapon........but he feels too awkward to actually comment on it. he thinks han's reaction is kinda cute. Ghester: he laughs jovially again "sadly you cannot have me, him and i are bound. you'll have to look elsewhere, though im flattered by the thought" Han: "aww booo" han pouts and flicks at the sword (if its in arms reach anyway) Psalm: "I'm amazed you even asked honestly." on the outside psalm is :/ but on the inside psalm is like 😏 Han: HAN LOOKS AT PSALM PUZZLED Psalm: PSALM JUST LOOKS BACK AT HER LIKE WHAT? Han: she shrugs and lets it go

Chip: the pact is marriage <3 Keva: exactly, ordained by psalm's patron Psalm: why areyou trying ot homewreck me he's happily married Cimmorro: damnn psalm already taken before this campaign even started... how can we homewreck that beautiful marriage Chip: next quest Psalm: OI

Having had their fun messing with Psalm the rest of the group get up to go pay for their meals. The party idle around deciding what to do next, as they chat Han orders and waits for an additional meal to be prepared for her to take back to the Swallow’s Perch for Ferrie and the others.

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> 🎵 Village of Rynoka / Moonlighter OST

Han: oh before everyone starts leaving han is like "oh oh oh, ferrie chris insists everyone stay at the swallows perch.. its free food and bed " Rokka: "WHAT" Han: "yea :D" Finn: finn gives you this look 🤨 Han: "you included" Rokka: rokkas tail wagging at mach speed bc free roof and food epic!!! "THATS AWESOME!!! TIME TO GO PACK THEN" he quickly gets up and immediately heads home to do as he said Han: han waves bye :D.... Rokka: waving in the distance as he runs off Finn: "i ... see" he cringes at the fact that he will need a new residence soon, and that this is the most convenient option. however, he absolutely doesn't want to be stuck with the others. bad enough that they'll have to travel together for so long

The group split off their separate ways, Han sticking around to wait for her food, though Finn also sticks around to continue chatting with her about Ferrie’s offer.

Finn: finn rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "ugh. not much of a choice, is it?" he pulls up his scarf more before continuing. "if you want me to stay so badly theres something youll have to do for me first." Han: HAN LOLS INTERNALLY and cocks a hip "what might that be? dont overestimate how badly i want you" Finn: finn makes a grimace, you can tell from his visible eyes. "ive no interest in women, give that up this instant" (so full of himself he believes that) he begins rubbing his temples. "anyway, itll give you an opportunity to be closer to me, i suppose." and motions for you to come closer Han: han guffaws "what?? and i have little interest in small men that cant handle me. whats that got to do with your favour?" she seems entertained and leans in Finn: finn is confused by hans push and pull, was she hoping to charm him somehow like this? when she leans in he yanks her down more to a comfortable level (by her hair) and whispers "i will say this as clear as i can to" an insult lies in the tip of his tongue but his scolding uncle appears in his mind "you. i want you to stealthily move my coffin to that inn, once i have to leave my quarters. youre the strongest so i trust youre capable. ill reward you if need be" Chip: WHY IS THIS THE GREEN M&M COPYPASTA JUDE ? Cimmorro: P;'TLQ30TO305O-0RQOFASF CHIP ILL ILLL MAUL YOUHG Finn: finns done fighting w cimm he needs someone new to hate him Psalm: finn's moral compass is his uncle its not even an angel devil him situation, its vorde

Han: han’s entertained demeanour drops immediately as her hair gets grabbed and shes mad and even madder that she didn't catch that so she just grabs finns hand painfully as he holds her hair and whispers with contained anger without even listening to whatever finns saying "dont do that. if you want to play friendly." Finn: he winces when she grabs his hand like that. normally he would not yield just yet but a fight in direct sunlight, with their bulkiest party member, is not what he needs. he lets go of her hair quickly. "i assumed it was fine to be playful around you. my apologies." <- genuinely meaning this Han: han is silent for a second "... just not the hair" and she drops finns hand "what did you say you need" Finn: "note taken. not the hair." he rubs his hand before going on his tip toes to talk to her instead this time. "i need you to move my coffin the day i move out. but obviously i dont want the whole city to see us with that thing, if you catch my drift." taking on a neutral, dry tone. Han: han thinks briefly "consider it done. i can burrow the inns cart and hide your coffin... actually, what exactly .. is it." Finn: finn blinks a little in surprise, not having expected her to still do it after he's pissed her off. his eyes get a little bigger, 🥺 like. "you will? i.. thank you. we can work out the details closer to my departure..." Han: han is like augh 🙄 at the puppy eyes bc she is immune to them "yea, just tell when to show up" Finn: "ill let you be on your way then." going off his tippy toes and waving goodbye for now Han: han waves him bye too......... cherry wheres my takeaway Cimmorro: how yall going to explain to ferrie chris abt finn's coffin Keva: dont worry about it its his burden to bear Celebrity Guest Aqua: His jesus cross to drag

After waiting a few more minutes Han is handed her takeaway, she soon scuttles her way back to the Swallow’s Perch with the meal, heading in she notes that Cimmorro isn’t back yet either. She promptly hands the food over before getting ready to work on the clock for the rest of the day. Layne joyfully takes the lunch as its handed to him, Ferrie steals a bite from it as well while Jessep stares at it and remarks he's full.

Soon after the two’s conversation, Finn heads back to the blacksmiths to get his rapier worked on for the day, finding no need to head over to the Swallow’s Perch for the moment. The rest of the party head to their inns to prepare and transfer their belongings over, Plum and Cimmorro however make a brief stop off at Vinny’s store first to check in on the goings on and to see if he’s returned yet.

The two glance at the building once they reach it, though it doesn’t exactly look to be open. Squinting through the window they see Cole bumbling around behind the counter in the back. Cimmorro waves at her from beyond the window though she doesn't seem to notice prompting Plum to knock on the glass instead.

Cole: you see her head swoop over like : D ? before she recognizes the two of you, and comes over to the front door, appears it was locked after all, as she wrangles it open the bell jingles "hey guys!" Cimmorro: cimm goes hiya and asks her if everything's been good around Plum: "hiya, i'm just here to buy one or two things" Cole: "yep I've just been cleaning up since vinny still isnt back" she tilts her head with a sigh before turning to you a bit more chipper plum "oho... were closed but ill make an exception for my new pal" she gives you a wink and ushers you in Plum: they jump a little at that and are a bit embarrassed now. a bit red, they scratch the back of their head and say, "i mean, you don't have to. i was just lookin' for shit to buy for my mom and pop before they got here... nothing serious." Cole: "aw dont worry about it, and if its something that easy then its all good for me to let ya nose around" she smiles as she waves her hand Cimmorro: "still no show huh, don't have any news when he'll be back too?" Cole: she frowns as she walks over to the counter "no... but if he isn't back tomorrow ill go over and see if they'll let me poke my head in..." she shakes her fist "he's...got important obligations here... yknow!" next to her one of the cats on the counter meows Cimmorro: he leans over and tilts his head looking at the cat "indeed, very important obligations." he pats the cat's head. "oh but don't get into trouble trying to get him though haha... in any case i oughta be going but i'll be peeking in from time to time. let him know i'm looking for him if you get the chance though, yea? thanks cole" he gives her a smile before gesturing to plum that he'll be heading back first Cole: she folds her arms "aauugh guards and wizards.... but sure thing, i'll...twist their arms somehow!" she gives you a cheery wave as you trot off Cimmorro: he kinda just smiles while shaking his head at that as he walks on off Plum: plum waves goodbye to cimmorro. they're kinda curious because they thought cimmorro was gonna buy something but whatever.

Going off ahead Cimmorro trots off back to the Swallow’s Perch noting Vinny still hasn't been able to return to his own store just yet. Walking back he gets a quick idea and shoots off a sending spell towards him to ease his mind over Cole and Ezra’s current statuses.

Cimmorro: "yoohoo, this is cimmorro. we found cole and ezra all safe and well. they've been back at your store since yesterday. no need to worry." Vinny: after a brief pause you hear a quiet sigh of relief in your head followed by words said in a whispered hush "i cant quite speak right now but. thank you so much, i mean that genuinely" followed by the typical silence Cimmorro: cimm scrunches his face a bit but will continue going abt his merry way then

Soon after he makes his way back to Swallow’s Perch, second after Han, and settles in their shared room. In the meantime Plum takes the time to pick out a few items from the store shelves as gifts for their family, chatting with Cole once they bring them back over to the counter to purchase them.

Chip: the cat seems to stare at you for the duration of this transaction Plum: "what's this one's name?" Cole: she turns her head and scratches its head "this ones coal" Plum: plum snickers. "what? did vinny name this one before or after meeting you??" Cole: she laughs "before! before! this guy here's my senior teaching me the ropes" the cat starts purring Plum: "right, how long have you been round here again?" Cole: she stretches back thinking "hmmmmm a year ago now...probably two actually" she scratches her chin "it's a nice city though, the airs so ...fresh around here even though its so busy" Plum: "yeah it is nice. too bad i'm not sticking around for much longer, i wanted to see the ocean better " plum says, mostly conversationally. "anyways, thanks for the stuff. and good luck getting that wizard lady to let go of vinny, also." plum huffs out a laugh. "poor guy." Cole: she pumps her fist "im getting him back here at some point at least! maybe ill wrangle ezra into it..." she thinks to herself before turning back "you should head down to some of the docks soon, they're real fun for peoplewatching" she says with a smile walking over with you back to the front door Plum: [pumps fist in return] "maybe i'll do that later then, thanks. seeya." Cole: she sees you out with a wave and locks the door behind you as it jingles, getting back to...you're not sure what she was doing actually. Finn: PLUM GOT HER ROUTE UNLOCKED Han: DONT SQUANDER UR CHANCE FOR A CUTE GF Plum: i will Han: oTL

Content with their purchases Plum heads back to their inn to begin their transfer to the Swallow’s Perch. Slightly ahead of them, Psalm and Rokka return to the Hole in the Wall and get the few things they have all sorted to go.

Heading out they note that at the front desk this time appears to be Artie as opposed to the other two employees that work there, perhaps they have their hands full with something at the moment. He silently notes the duos departure and mail transference with a surly nod.

Artie: at mention of the swallow’s perch he tilts his head and remarks “good place. got decent pie there” sending you on your way Psalm: "Also, if Ruth and Esther Brimdrorvi come looking for me can you direct them down the street please." Artie: he nods silently Psalm: Nice Rokka: i give artie my farewells and wait for psalm bc wynaut

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> 🎵 A Tavern on the Riverbank / The Witcher 2 OST

The two make their way to the inn next door, after a bit of chatter with Layne he leads them upstairs and directs them to the empty rooms they have upstairs on the first floor, adjacent to Cimmorro and Han’s shared room.

Rokka: "what room are u going to?" Psalm: "I have no preference." That being said he just goes up to the first empty room he finds and opens the door. Rokka: he nods and walks a little further down the walkway and goes into the second room

The two each take an empty room for themselves, forcing those who show up afterwards to decide who they’d prefer to room with. Across the street Keva also checks out of the Out and Inn similarly asking for her mail to be rerouted. At the counter are the two twins who quickly send her on her way

Flinn and Pin: they remark that one of the dwarves there will give you beer at a discount if you tell him a funny joke, but do not specify which one. Keva: she makes a face like 🤨 but with an amused smile "okay... thanks?" and heads over to the swallow's perch

As Rokka and Psalm settle in across the way, Cimmorro in his room takes has a thought and decides to shoot off another sending spell to another important recipient.

Cimmorro: "ulle!!! it's your cimmy. i wanted to show off what i can do now ehehe i'm going to be so cool when i get back" <--- he sounds very excited Ulle: you hear a confused sound in your head in response before spluttering noises and a response "whoa i was-bleh, eating a sandwich just now you scared me! haha this is so cool hey hey mahalia ! cimmorro just spoke to me-" before it cuts off

As Han’s shuffling about and doing some menial tasks around the rooms on the first floor she overhears the sending spell and pokes her head in to spy on Cimmorro. At the same time Keva soon arrives at the inn, getting the same spiel from Layne downstairs she heads up to the first floor hallway staring at which room to pick while Han blocks one of the doorways.

Keva: she does not want to room with psalm and his spying ghost. she does not want to room with rokka bc headache. she does not want to room with han bc headache........... but she figures she has to talk with cimm anyway so........ least of the evils Chip: women and cimm united front Cimmorro: clerics who respect women

Han: "were you talking to someone?" Cimmorro: cimm plops his back into his bed, completely relaxed and thanks wee jas in his head "ohhhh... this is one of the best things you've ever let me have!! thank you, thank you, lady wee jas >_<" and then notices han come in and acknowledges her. "hm? i was casting a spell... did you need anything?" Keva: keva's standing behind han blocking the doorway, in that time she is considering whether she should change her mind Han: she shrugs "nothing, just heard u talking, got curious- AH" at keva teleporting behind her and stares at her for 2 seconds before going "im going back to chores, bye" and scuttling off Cimmorro: he just looks at you two like 🤨 Keva: she moves out of her way and says bye back after she's already left like 🤨 "any room in here?" Cimmorro: he looks at you for a moment before understanding what's going on "oh you're staying here? that makes things so much easier for me. yeah there's room, though han can be a bit energetic" he laughs and points at a spot in the room Keva: she looks back in the direction han left for a moment "yeah that's going to be fun" /s, she'll go over and plop her few things down Cimmorro: a laugh "she's like that... though she can easily be distracted lolll... i think she'll be more focused on dress making than at you, for tonight at least." Keva: keva tosses her cloak on the bed while mumbling "thank the gods for that." turning to cimm "does she work here or smth?" Cimmorro: he nods at you as he sits back up on his bed "she was already here when i arrived a few weeks ago. i'm sure she's been here for way longer" Keva: "hm. well, don't let me get in the way of what you were doing." and she gonna climb onto her bed and take out a little bit of bread to feed amos Cimmorro: he watches you do that for a sec before going "okay, i'm still beat from going around the stores earlier myself so... we can talk about what you want to do with your outfit later. give it some thought meanwhile.."

As Keva settles in, Han remembers to head over to Ferrie Chris and notify her that Finn will probably be showing up later in the week.

Han: "the pampered one will come later... ill borrow the cart to fetch him, if its ok.." Ferrie Chris: she tilts her head from where shes bent over moving crates "hm? sure whatcha need it for anyhow? Han: han shrugs "he needs some stuff moved" Ferrie Chris: she squints "how much stuff could tha' guy have...?" she shakes her head "eh 's fine, we moved most of the stuff earlier in the week anyway" Han: SHE SHRUGS HARDER

As the two of them chat Cimmorro and Psalm both begin the process of attuning to their newly bought weapons in their rooms, though Psalm also goes through the additional ritual of designating his new scimitar as his pact weapon.

Ghester: for the latter ritual ghester is silent the entire while until the end in which he lets out a sigh, quickly remarking how strange a sensation that was Psalm: "Strange how?" Ghester: he ponders the thought a moment "like growing another limb, despite the fact that i dont have any in the first place" Psalm: he nods like he gets it even though that's kinda weirdchamp

As the group settles for the afternoon Plum also arrives at the inn, the last of the party to make their transfer for the day. Receiving the same spiel as those before them they waddle up to the first floor, deciding to pick whoever is behind the closest door to them for their roommate, the result being Rokka.

Chip: for your viewing pleasure

Cimmorro: AKFHJLKASFKSAJFAKLWFKAL Han: EMO A;LKDHGKLLKDSF Keva: I'M LAUGHING THAT GHESTER AND AMOS COME WITH US NOW Chip: your government assigned leeches

Rokka: his ears twitch and he turns towards the door "come in!!" Plum: "oh it's you rokka, nice. you don't mind being roommates do you?" Rokka: he perks up seeing plum enter, "oh plummy!! hi!! i don't mind at all in fact im glad we can be roomies hehehe" rokkas tail wags in delight Plum: "ok great, what are you up to for the rest of the day, then?" Rokka: "hmm" he taps his chin and looks up to think "nothing much unless you wanna do something with me? :D" Plum: "i'm not up to anything today, so sure. got anything in mind?" Rokka: "we can work on that music box you got!!" Plum: "oh, right! forgot about that thing." plum says, and starts fishing around in their bag of holding until they pull out the ＭＵＳＩＱＵＥＢＯＸＥ Rokka: he moves next to plum and leans his head closer to them "i don't know much about fixing music boxes so I don't think i will be much help but i can cheer you on :D" he tilts his head a little "whaddya think it would sound like once it can play" Plum: "i think it'll probably play, just not very well. i'm not even sure how this thing is broken. also thanks, if you cheer me on that means i definitely have to fix this thing though." plum says, lifting the box carefully to peek at it. Rokka: "yeah i had a feeling it would sound like that too...i cant wait to hear it in its full glory" rokka goes 🥺 and speaks with a little gentler tone "i just thought its another way i could help you is all." Plum: a little embarrassed now plum just says "right..." and trails off. then after a moment of looking at the box they say, "y'know this thing might not actually be broken after all. so it only plays on a full moon, right? and i thought that was just some kind of charm attached to it for fun or somethin', probably is. but other than that it's a functional music box. think the seller thought that little catch to it meant it didn't work." plum says this all in one go without realizing because they like to talk about magical objects. "personally," they continue, "i don't think that means it's broken. i think that just makes it more special. i could probably make it so that it plays all the time though, what do you think?" Rokka: he silently nods throughout plums explanation simply enjoying them talking more than usual in one sitting, "thats a bummer we gotta wait until then for it to play but if you can make it play ALL the time that would be super cool of you plum!" he gives them a thumbs up Plum: "well i can try, anyways."

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> 🎵 Tired Rynoka / Moonlighter OST

Plum begins working away at the music box as Rokka sits attentively beside them for the rest of the day. In their own mind they decide their course of action is going to be to change the enchantment into a dual purpose one. A person will still need to wind the music box on a full moon to have it play, but it will also play whenever if Rokka is the one to wind it.

Getting to work on inspecting it Plum finds the enchantment is inscribed weirder than they’d thought it would be once they actually get a look at it. Most of the evening is spent trying to make out the creators handwriting, but it is solid progress nonetheless. After much interpreting they see the enchanted name signed near the bottom thusly " -ＲＡＮＤＯＶＵＳ / THE GREAT AND BEAUTIFUL"

Han: randovus instant fave character no lie Rokka: whoever this is i wanna fight them Plum: chip was it that the seller thought it was broken??? Chip: yeahp Plum: oh LOL Chip: zafar like what in the....not gonna ruin my day [puts on shelf] Plum: hHHHFHFG

Plum: "this guy's handwriting fucking sucks" Rokka: he makes a weird sound of agreement as he doesnt wanna admit it "mmmnnyyeeahmnn?????????" Plum: "anyways, that's all i got for you today re: this thing. might take me a couple days." plum says, without telling rokka what exactly they're intending to change about the box until it gets done. Rokka: he oohs and ahhh through the process of what plum does "neat! you got me excited now that I know i can probably hear it sooner!" his tails lazily wags in content and a little nostalgic spending time with plum like this in a room as they remind him of his siblings Plum: "yeah, i'm pretty excited too. and its fun working on something for...fun. i feel like its been forever, even though its only been like, a week. feel free to tune in next time." Rokka: "yeah! i getchaaa especially with what we've been through having some time to just enjoy like this is nice hehe" he tilts his head at plum "really?? then please let me know whenever you choose to work on it! I will be there to watch and cheer asap! thanks for letting me watch plum " Plum: "any time. i can make it a little task while we wait for the ball and all of that." Rokka: he stares at plum for a moment seeming to ponder something "plum, you're really nice. I like you, can we be friends?" he says without his usual loud and cheery tone. this time being more calm as he asks genuinely for the first time Plum: "h-huh?" plum says after a beat, suddenly turning fully red in the face. "man, rokka, why do you sound so serious... and! a-anyways! i thought we were already friends?" Rokka: "I just never-- wait what???i---" he struggles with finding words to respond as he didn't think plum thought they were friends "you.....we're friends? really? really really friends?" he looks expectantly down at plum Plum: "oh i mean i just assumed since we get along and we're stuck in this large group for now. maybe i jumped the gun there, sorry. but yeah we can be friends." plum says and scratches at their face, feeling embarrassed. "you're making me feel kinda embarrassed over here, saying "i like you" to people so bluntly, y'know." Rokka: he lets out a small gleeful laugh with a smile growing larger each second "ah...ahah!! yess!!!!!!!!" he ruffles plums hair "Sorry, I just like to be honest, hehe," now in a very great mood he cant help his wagging tail Plum: [is ruffled] "no it's fine, just caught me by surprise. i like to be blunt too 🤨 " plum says and coughs a little awkwardly. Rokka: he just grins at plum before plopping onto his bed with a content sigh followed by a mumble "my first friend.."

As the afternoon ebbs on Cimmoro also finishes attuning to his new healing knife in his room, the other two going about their business in silence and settling in. Finally he moves and stretches, and gives the knife a stare, he decides to give it a whirl and to check whether he’s been scammed or not. He tightly gripes the blade with one hand and makes a swift cut on his hand, he makes a low hissing sound as he does, alerting the other two briefly as they spot his hand bleeding for a couple of seconds

Han: han just stares like 🤨 Keva: keva was feeding amos the little snack thing she bought from the pet store, but when she hears cimm hiss, she looks over her shoulder. when she sees the blood and the knife she jumps a bit in surprise like "what the fuck?"

However, despite how quickly he made the wound, once he expends the charge, it heals just as quickly, glowing slightly for a brief moment as the skin stitches itself back together, like there was nothing there in the first place. They watch even as the blood quickly rises through the air and zooms back into his body from the wound.

Han: she stares at the immediately closing wound "that..what?" Keva: she's also staring in confusion and curiosity Cimmorro: he watches the wound heal itself, wonder in his eyes and then immediately puts his palm up for han and keva to see it stitch up like ":D SICK...!!" Han: "is magic? thats cool" she pokes the part where he sliced himself Cimmorro: he breathes out in relief "wuhahhu... looks like i got my money's worth..." when han pokes at his palm he goes like "yeah! you wanna try?" Han: "fuck yeah!" han holds out her forearm excitedly >:D Cimmorro: "it only works when i do it though" he's taken aback by your enthusiasm but likes it regardless. cimm swipes the blade on your arm, making a clean cut [will use charge] Keva: she makes a 🤨 face at han's enthusiasm and closes up the jar of treats to put it away as she says "no thanks" .... she does turn back to watch tho

Cimmorro slices again this time on Han’s arm.....blood...a second...thwoosh the body stitches itself back together immediatley and the wound is healed.

Cimmorro: "aw cmon we can do it one more time" once han's wounds begin stitching too he looks back at keva like "see? see?" Han: "oooh.." han goes over the wound with her hand "its only a bit tingly... wanna try it over actual wound?" Cimmorro: he turns to han looking confused for a sec like "... wait are you injured?" Han: "no, but keva can stab me" :D “or you stab with the knife normally. i just trust keva to make it count” 😌 Keva: "you're really excited about being stabbed" Cimmorro: cimm is wondering why han wants to hurt so badly rn and his mouth is just agape Han: "wounds are an honour" Cimmorro: "what... well, i guess?" Han: "well, more in battle than in here but still" Keva: "is that why you tend to go into things without thinking" Han: "without think-?! i think a lot, thank you !!!!" han sounds offended Keva: keva makes geralt from netflix "hm" noise "kay well, i'm not stabbing you so" Han: han pouts "your loss" then goes back to looking at cimm expectantly with her forearm to him Cimmorro: "okay, ladies.... let's...." he sighs "this dagger can do as much damage as it can heal, supposedly... so... to test?" he looks like he doesnt want to tho Han: "to test!" >:) Keva: "we already know it works. why do we have to do this" Cimmorro: "just to be sure!" Han: "to test!" han repeats Cimmorro: "you're not going to hold this against me are you? if i stab you like real stab?" cimm is starting to wonder if this is a good idea Keva: keva puts her hand to her face Cimmorro: he makes a fake stab against the air right now just to make sure han knows what she's asking him to do "like this, stab stab" Han: "huh?? why would i?? plenty of family have stabbed me, just do it" she doesn’t flinch Cimmorro: he completely sputters at that "do-what tthe ?!? the HUH?" Keva: keva's slient for a moment in shock as well and then "...gods you're so weird" Han: han tsks impatiently "i can do it myself, yeesh" takes out her own dagger Cimmorro: "no, WHAT? STOP" Keva: "(medieval fantasy equialvent of jesus christ)"

Han makes a clean slice along her forearm without flinching, taking damage, much to the displeasure of her two roomates.

Han: the dagger looks similar to the hammer shes taken out before, one solid chunk of blueish metal Keva: she winces watching it happen and is like, getting up off her bed Han: "nnnow try it" :) Cimmorro: cimm looks horrified not bc of the wound but bc of han just being so.... han. he clicks his tongue while he makes a weary slice on her already open wound, expending a charge

With a glow the wound stitches together again and the blood zips back in, the wound is not fully healed but it looks alot less bad now, closer to a papercut but long across the arm.

Han: "ooooo~" Cimmorro: cimm lets out a sigh of frustration and keeps han's arm in place while he grabs his holy symbol to cast cure wounds on the leftover cut :( Han: han lets him but is like :/ Cimmorro: cimm lightly blows and pats on her arm as if to check if he missed a spot then lets her go once cleared out. "this thing is more for emergencies, it looks like" tilting the doctor's blade a bit with his free hand Han: han wiwis for a sec Keva: keva relaxes back onto her bed once the wound is healed Cimmorro: "since we'll be travelling together for a while it's good to let you guys know what this does, though i won't use it unless i really have to... i don't like relying on things aside from what i already know anyway..." he puts it away and then looks at han like :| "no more stabbing yourself like that" Han: han goes 😤 "this was for teeeest!" Cimmorro: cimm remembers how han also just nonchalantly sliced her arm in the blood chamber and he rubs at his eyes at the memory "you do this kind of thing so often!! what the hell was that about your family!! uggh" he just keeps rubbing his eyes rn trying not to think of what he was to deal with the next coming weeks Han: han just goes 😟 but says nothing Keva: keva notices the look on han's face and says "anyway." Cimmorro: cimm stares at her and sighs and shakes his head Han: han gets weirdly shy under the attention Cimmorro: "no more hurting yourself. if that's what your family liked to do then whatever. but don't do it around me.. don't like seeing it" he says that rather harshly but there is a hint of concern Keva: keva like a sibling looking out the car window while the other kid gets chewed out Han: han is still like 😟 "no its.. they didnt.. uagh" she looks frustrated by both not wanting to talk about it and not knowing how to explain it, and just drops the thread entirely , pacifying cimm with a non commital "i wont, i wont" Keva: keva just quickly raises and lowers her eyebrows, thinking well that sounds convincing in her head Cimmorro: cimm doesn't seem convinced, but it's not like he expected his words to do anything immediately. he exhales and waves his hand around to clear the air "well... anyway. you two know what this does. don't go stabbing me back when i bring you conscious with this pls..🙄 " Keva: keva waves a hand like yeah yeah Han: han snort laughs a bit and also agrees Cimmorro: he shrugs as if to say he's just trying to make precautionary measures "nice. well okay you are cuties dismissed 👏" he hops off his bed and walks out the door peace out

Cimmorro scurries about preparing things for later on, and as sundown and evening comes the rest of the party settle into their rooms and comforts for the night. Han however, after a bit more pestering of Cimmorro, heads out after clocking off her shift, and walks off towards a familiar destination in the city.

She weaves her way in and out of a few alleys and streets in the business district before entering one of the taller buildings nearby. Despite there having been no rain recently she also spies puddles of water near the outside of the building. Shrugging it off, she heads inside and up a few flights of stairs down some interior hallways, past the doors of a couple other businesses

it’s pretty quiet in the area compared to when she’d usually come around, with the sounds of people revel making and drinking typically filling her ears. She quickly comes to the entrance of the place she’s looking for, the words ‘The Bone Pit’ scrawled nested into a carefully illustrated poster nailed to the front of the door.

youtube

> 🎵 Through the Valley / Pyre OST

She opens the door and steps inside, finding herself in a small lobby area of sorts, connected to a larger room that appears to be a bar floor with hallways leading upstairs branching off it. Though looking about it appears pretty empty and quiet, not silent however, some chatter here and there and the sounds of things being moved echo through the place. As she stares about it appears pretty sparse, its then that she notices a whole bunch of cleaning supplies stacked around the place.

Han: she just says loudly "hellooooo?? ruel? stella?"

As Han yodels out the names, someone shuffling around the larger bar floor seems to notice and comes running over, she recognises the woman as Stella, a short pink haired girl.

Stella: “ahh sorry there!!” she gives a cutesy wave “were closed right now for -er” she blinks now seemingly recognising you “oh my gods haaaaaaan, i'm being forced to do manual labouuuur- save me pleaaase” her tone changes to an uncharacteristically whiny one as she dramatically walks over pouting and shaking a mop that she’s holding in her hands.

Looking at her Han notes she’s not in what her typically style, instead in clothes that appear to be much more shabby, probably for cleaning. Behind her she also spots a taller person, whom she recognises as Ruel, a half orc woman leaning herself against a broom

Ruel: “...stella that’s like the 5th walk in, did you even put the closed sign out front..?” shaking her head as if she doesn't even expect an answer from the former. Han: han laughs at stella "you are such a baby." she notes their dress and says "cleaning day? do u want extra hands?" Stella: she lazily throws her head back with a groan “auuugh because of the lockdown the other day the good big boss decided this would be the perfect time to scrub down the whole place” she holds the mop out in front of her “this isnt in my job description y'know, i'm going to have to get my nails redone and everything after this, its tough work looking this perfect” she continues huffing a little before actually realising you asked a question "ah? oh no way we cant make customers help out, bad look..." Ruel: while she chats ruel crouches near the floor fiercely inspecting a stain in the wood near a bar table Han: "with the amounts of fluids this place sees daily i cant believe it took you this long to do deep clean....." han grimaces a bit but its still finds stellas baby attitude funny so it gets a bit lost. "and what? there are no customers around, no one sees me here. i asked a couple hours off." Stella: "ehh well it gets cleaned regularly but i guess she really wants these bar floors finally annihilated" she grimaces at the comment before looking back at you "y.........eaaaaaah but if i got caught doing that i'd get an earful is the thing" she waves her hand noncommittally though she looks like she is internally fighting off the temptation to just let you Han: han is just holding back laughter at stella like ppfftt "im sure you can do it, youre big girl" and then walks over to ruel and opens her arms for a hug Stella: she groans again and shakes the mop menacingly at you Celebrity Guest Aqua: is this like those clubs where they gotta hose the floor every morning or is it a nicer establishment Han:

Cimmorro: hate that gif so much dawg Chip: STOPPPPP Han: I AHTE THIS GIF TOO IT PLAGUES ME Plum: what is that fucking gif lord

As Han walks over to Ruel with outstretched arms she stands up curiously staring at her with a quirked brow.

Han: "i know ure off work but one hug pleeeaaase" >_< Ruel: she stares at you again but eventually sighs and opens her arms out invitingly like 😓 Han: "Oh! i actually came over to ask. me and some ..." han makes some grimacing/thoughtful expressions "friendsss?? like saved the town or whatever and they invited us to be guests at the new ball, do you guys wanna come??" :3 Ruel: ruel just ?? confused face at the question after the hug Stella: she turns her head towards you leaning on the mop completely disbelieving "if you ya want to invite me to a party han you dont need to lie about how cool it is" she says wrly Han: she probably has let go of ruel at this point lolol "no we talked to the king and shit.." han shrugs "its in 2 week, cimm, that priest guy, i dont think i told you about him, he even drew me a dress!" she starts looking around her bag "oh i must've left it with him... well anyway!" han is still in a chipper mood "you guys and the swallows perch are my only friends around so i thought i would invite you" she does get pink at this lol Ruel: she makes a face like 😑❓ silently thinking to herself Stella: she walks over and slaps her hand across your stomach jokingly "yeah and what did the king tell you?" she seems to be a little embarrassed about the only friends statement but is way to distracted by the ridiculousness of the gala thing Han: "uuhhh he was like [han tries to imitate his voice] thank you so much, here is 5000 gold, we are doing ball in 2 weeks, invite your friends. i have the gold to prove it" han opens her heavy ass stash and shows the girls the coin

Stella looks like shes about to crack another joke until Han opens up the bag, after which both her and Ruel open their eyes wide in surprise. Stella looks back between Han and the bag multiple times in shock

Stella: "th... first of all this is like, all platinum han, and second......i...." she stops mid sentence like she doesnt know what to say out of shock Ruel: she pipes up after "........you know they did say they were gonna rehost it...." Stella: at this she seems to snap out of her awe and stares up at han grabbing your giant arm and shaking you "HAAAAAN. YOU CANT BE SERIOUS THE GALA??? LIKE WITH THE ROYALTY AND EVERYTHING??? Han: she gets shaken around "yes, those guys, i dont rlly understand the big deal, ferrie chris was also excited about them?" Stella: "YESSS HAN THOSE GUYSSS" she seems to calm down a little though still gripping your arm "okay okay well im not gonna shoot for the moon or anything so i dont care too much about them but do you know how many rich nobles go to those parties.... the connections i can make there..." she then begins shaking your arm again "and i can brag about having BEEN to the palace my gods what am i gonna wear... i need to create the perfect ensemble, andrella is NOT gonna hear the end of this from me" Han: she laughs "i thought you might like it." she turns to ruel "how about you?" Ruel: as you turn your attention to ruel stella continues babbling to herself while shaking your arm, ruel stands nearby with her arms crossed thinking over it thoughtfully "honestly i am not sure i'd be good schmoozing somewhere so high class but" and she lifts her eyes up seriously with a glint and a thumb on her chin "the opportunity. is way too good." Keva: the egirls looking to get paaaaiiidd yeeeessss Chip: stella getting ready to have 100 business cards made Keva: are they bedazzled Chip: gel pen as well Keva: the other side is sequins that if you run your hand over it it reveals other colors and a message lmao Han: wait thats genius Keva: "stella" one way, "see the stars" the other Han: UA;LHDSGKH;KHWKH3LKESGKDX

Han: she just heehees "i went dress shopping with cimm today, hes gonna help get something tailored, you want dresses too? i can pay" Ruel: her eyebrows go up "oh no no, we can get that done ourselves fine, you're already inviting us and everything" Stella: she nods next to you feverishly "han i love you oh so dearly, now even more so, but i have my pride" she lifts a fist "and its telling me to go all out on this look...." Ruel: she nods sagely agreeing with her Stella: she quickly relaxes to a more joking demeanour before continuing "i appreciate the thought though as ludicrous it is for you to offer you big lug, if this works out i wont even have to annoy you to give me free drinks" she says with a smile ^__^ Han: han giggles then stops abruptly "what!! you said you annoy me because i dont let you tie me up!!!" <- she is faux sad Stella: she lifts a finger "i can have multiple reasons to annoy you" Han: she tsks "im glad you two are alright tho 😊 when you think the deep clean will be done?" Stella: she slaps your arm with a laugh at that Ruel: she thinks a moment "judging by how powerful these wood stains are... i'd say another two days with the others helping out" she folds her arms with a smile looking back at you "i'll be sure to expect a visit now that you're rolling large..." she squints her eyes and tilts her head afterwards though thinking on it "...kind of dangerous carrying all that actually" Han: she snorts at the wood stains comment "i dont have a lot to use it on anyway but thieves would be stupid to go for me" puffs out her chest "i will visit... soon? i will be leaving soon after so yeah.." han think thonks Ruel: she laughs at the chest puffing Stella: at the last comment stella tilts her head "ohhh??...flying the coop? you gotta tell me when we can go out for drinks or something, i'll have to console poor ruel.." she mock wipes her eyes Ruel: she rolls hers and grabs a cloth, getting back to working away Han: she shrugs "dunno, got one other bossman now and he wants us to go to antessa..." han trails off thinking about routes and times "you can grab me whenever you have free day. OH ferrie chris wants have do a banger too..." Stella: "damn moving up in the big leagues of freelancing now, cross country" at the second comment her face lights up "ohhhhh yes! when you have a date let me know i'll free up the evening" she says with a >:) grin Han: han is jsut ^O^ heeho evening successful, STARTS BIDDING THEM ADIOS? "no sex, no cleaning, im useless here" pouts again

Han scuttles off back to the inn satisfied with having said her piece, making sure to tell Stella to stop slacking off as she goes. The party all spend the rest of the little of the evening left idling around and killing time before finally heading to rest and bedding down in the dark.

Notes

💎Cimmorro and 🔮Psalm attuned to their weapons of choice

🦇Finn upgraded his sword to a +1 weapon

🍺Plum got an evenings work in on the music box

👨‍👩‍👦‍👦👨‍👨‍👧‍👦 Most of the Party relocated to the Swallow’s Perch

#recaps #210124 #this one took a little longer than the usual to get out yahaha

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sirengf-moved · 4 years

Note

oh boy 1) 2, 5, 7, 10, 15 || 2) 3, 7, 9 || 3) 6, 7, 20 || 4) 4, 9, 27 || part five is embarrassing so none of that shit 💓 || 6) 2, 4, 10 || i gave u so many because i lov u but i'm also fucked up 🍊🌿💐💓

mars i lov u , also don’t worry i’m vain and i love answering questions abt myself so this works perfectly 😌🍯☁️✨🍓🍃 HOLD ONTO UR BUTT THIS IS A LOT :

( part 1 ) 🍨

Have you ever cut your hair yourself?

a: as a kid i think i got something stuff in my hair , gum or ? i’m unsure it’s a foggy memory but i just cut my hair and my mom got soooooo mad bc we had a friend who was a hairdresser and we didn’t tell her or anything and we just cut it , tbh it was pretty liberating but at the same time i don’t remember if i did a good job or not 💀

Do you collect anything?

a: mmm, jars ...... me telling myself i’m gonna gather jars for spellwork and i never actually do it so i just have a shit ton of mason jars , emptied candle jars , small flasks with cork screw lids all sitting around my crystals and incense ect....... rip me.

Are you a fan of bread and butter?

a: yes! i eat fried bread w/ light butter for breakfast most mornings , probably unhealthy but like.......it’s very yummy..... 😔

Have you ever almost died?

a: ive almost drowned at least 3 times, this racist dude thst i almost beat the shit out of nearly ran me over on my way home with his redneck truck ( forgetting i knew where he lived ) , almost asphyxiated myself by swallowing melted chocolate at least 3 /4 times , almost got into a head on collision at a 4 way once, when i jumped from the side of my grandfathers sailboat onto the docks i wasn’t considering how big the leap was and landed fine but almost fell back and would’ve been crushed between the boat and dock , and i thought i was going to die when this homeless man glared me down intensely at the local burger king as i ate my chicken and lowkey cried bc i was also going through an emotional meltdown ( unrelated to said homeless man making vicious murder eyes at me , but that sure didn’t help lol ) i’ve also died a lot in my dreams / almost died in dreamscapes ..... long winded answer but hi mars i’m also fucked up 😌

Favorite animal?

a: GELADA MONKEYS! LOOK THEM UP PLS THEYRE AMAZING I LOVE THEM! BIG FLUFFY BOYS!

( part 2 ) 🥧

Do you believe the butterfly effect is real?

a: hm... i feel like every action mayhaps has some sort of consequence but personally i’ve been seeing that like, how can this be true when you have billionaires who use slave/sweatshops/prison labor but yet are rewarded with vast riches? how can you have all of these people of power constantly doing bad , horrible things and not getting their karma? will they get it ten fold? down the road? is their karma their internal struggles? do they not have any moral qualms? are they MAKING the karma for others? these are questions i constantly ask myself to be quite honest....

Do you believe in witches and/or magic?

a: yes , for the most part. there are some i believe because i can feel it , their energy and majesty in the way they hold themselves and how they view the world, some people just scare me with how they go through life with such certainty on everything, certainty terrifies me to be honest. i do definitely believe in magic! it’s in everything! from someone cooking you something that you regularly cook but it tastes better bc they made it? magic! it’s everywhere! and also practical magic ( spellwork / spirit work / deity & entity work / tarot & oracle ect ) it all interests me and i love talking about it , to people who also believe and practice and KNOW AND RESPECT CULTURE/ HERITAGE / CLOSED PRACTICES! c:

Do you believe in anything mythical/supernatural? (Bigfoot, Mermaids, Vampires, etc.)

a: sorta , i’ve had too many rhythmic taps / scratches on my window in the deep hours of the night to not believe. i’m not sure if i believe in vampires as in modern mainstream standpoint but i’m pretty open to just about anything existing..it’s just this world is so weird and i’d be naive to think that just bc i can’t perceive it with my own eyes, it just simply doesn’t exist... u know?

( part 3 ) 🍡

If a friend called you to help hide a body, would you help or turn them in?

a: i ain’t no snitch. also kinda depends on the friend, bc i wouldn’t turn anyone in regardless ( unless they killed someone innocent / were a budding serial killer omg ) but like do i answer calls? rarely , am i also the one everyone always goes to? yes. either way i’d prolly help you bury the body, answering the phone however? another story. ( who am i kidding i’d be so excited that a friend wants to talk or smth then get roped into this whole drama episode )

Have you ever had a crush on someone that, now as you look back, is completely embarrassing?

a: YES , STORY TIME! okay so i was like 17/18 and i liked this guy and at the time i thought i was being soooooo oblivious about it , but like a few months later a friend was like ‘ did u like so and so? ‘ and i was like ‘ was it that obvious? ‘ and they were all like ‘ painfully ‘ and to this day i still get randomly reminded by my brain how stupid , cringe worthy and weird i acted , like my brain is relentless in reminding me how fucking fat of an L that whole crush thing was........ 🙃

How would you react if you had a secret admirer?

a: depends, ive had ‘secret’ admirers who turned very obsessive in my past, so i’m naturally wary , but idk if someone thinks i’m cool i have no problem with that , but if you put me on this weird pedestal then i have a problem ... 🤲🏽 td;lr : id be as humble as possible bc then i’m reminded i’m perceived.

( part 4 ) 🍰

Favorite actress?

a: lupita n’yongo!!

Favorite type of food?

a: savory / rich/ salty food, i don’t really care for sweet foods ... or fried foods ? i don’t like large portions either tbh, i like to feel full not like dead lol. my favorite types are either seafood or seafood coupled with steak and other assorted meat and sides .

Favorite sport?

a: i liked playing volleyball, i like watching soccer and occasionally college football ( ik ik.... ) but i also love watching women’s professional gymnastics!!

( part 6 ) 🌯

Ever kissed someone who wasn’t single?

a: i don’t think so.... no! it sounds like smth i’d do on accident or smth tbh ... but not smth i’d do purposely!

Have you ever done anything illegal?

a: yes! lots of things! but i’m not gonna list them all here, nothing too serious but lol yes haha

Ever lied straight to someone’s face?

a: daily occurrence tbh, i’m really good at lying , i had to get good at it as a kid in order to avoid shit so 😌 now i can convince gross men that i’m in a relationship with a huge weightlifting bouncer and we have 3 kids and hes on isle 6 and will be back soon when i’m in walmart and some creep attempts to talk to me too much! and they’ll believe me.......

#u: ( calls me )#me: ( excited to see u calling me ) omg mars hi-#u: so i killed someone #me: 🤠#PHEW #TY MARS HAVE SOME RANDOM FACTUALS ABT ME #t: ask meme #t: mars tag 🧿✨🍓#tw: death mention

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team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years

Text

Breaking Point

Title: Breaking Point (part five of the ‘Buried Secrets’ series) Summary: Dean realises exactly how badly he messed up - but you’re not ready to forgive him. When you and Sam get even closer on a hunt, how much of a rift will be driven between you and Dean? Will you ever be able to cross it? Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader (fem pronouns) (mostly sam x reader in this part) Warnings: some swearing, Angst™, canon-typical violence, also more angst :( Word Count: 4,811 (its a long one, sorry...)

note; ok so this part is based around 11x07, ‘Plush’ - I stayed somewhat true to canon but ended up tying up the hunt a lot more quickly and easily than the episode for my own convenience lmao. also sam isn’t having the visions from “God” in this series, at least it’s not gonna be brought up bc that’s all just A Lot for me to try and keep track of and i wanna keep focus on the fic plot not canon lol, sorry! anyways hope u enjoy this part!

Part One | Two | Three | Four

Masterlist

It was too bright, and his head hurt. It was almost enough to make him forget the events that had transpired the night prior - almost.

Dean rubbed his tired eyes as he stumbled to the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee as he bit back a yawn. He poured a cup and stared at the nearly-full pot for a few moments before realising no one was coming to join him. Right - Sam had taken your side.

The anger raging through his veins had burned out long ago, replaced only with a hollow feeling of guilt that made him feel sick to his stomach as his brutal words bounced around the chambers of his mind. The hurt in your eyes was branded into his brain, and he clenched his jaw as he recalled your timid voice, your shaking hands as you fled from him as though you were scared of him.

Scared.

Of him.

As if he could ever hurt you.

But you did, his brain whispered. Dean slammed his mug down on the table, hot coffee splashing onto his hands, the tiny droplets scalding his skin as he swore and shook them off. He clenched his fist midair, bringing it to crash back against the wood of the table. He felt so guilty - why did he feel so guilty? You lied to him, lied to Sam, to Cas, to everyone - and he was the one feeling bad?

But the spark of anger fizzled before it could grow, and he resolved to set his feelings aside, at least for now. He was good at that - avoiding things. It was practically in his Winchester genes to ignore his emotions until they broke him. And he wasn’t at breaking point - not yet, at least.

Dean’s fingers found his phone, and he toyed with it absentmindedly, thumb hovering over your number, and then Sam’s. After staring at it a little longer than he’d have liked to admit, he slipped it back into his pocket. You weren’t coming back - not yet, at least. But even though you were gone, Amara was still a threat. Weird connection to her or not, he needed to find a way to get rid of her.

Assigning his pain to the backseat, Dean hit the books.

---

“Hello, Dean.”

The eldest Winchester started awake, the shape of the book before him sharply imprinted onto his cheek. He rubbed it, wincing his bleary eyes at the discomfort.

“Cas?” he groaned. “What is it?”

“Have you slept?” The angel’s voice was weighed with concern, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Obviously,” he muttered, wiping the dried spit crusted at the corner of his mouth as he swallowed back the unpleasant taste an unexpected nap always left. “Found anything?”

“Nothing new,” Cas said, glancing around the empty bunker. “Where are Y/N and Sam? Shouldn’t they be helping you research?” he asked disapprovingly, and Dean chuckled dryly.

“I haven’t heard from them in two days,” he said, plastering on a humourless grin. Castiel’s brow creased.

“Are they on a hunt? They could be hurt, we should-”

“No, they’re not on- Y/N’s a witch,” Dean blurted, and Castiel’s eyebrows flitted skywards in surprise.

“A witch?”

“You heard me,” Dean growled, turning back to the books. “She- she used a hex bag on me, so I kicked her out. Sam went after her - texted me, told me not to follow ‘em.”

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Cas remarked, and Dean scoffed.

“Yeah, tell me about it. She said it was to help me, whatever that’s meant to mean,” he muttered. Cas gave him a knowing look, and Dean’s defences shot up.

“What? I’m fine, I don’t need help!” he said angrily, and Cas made a disbelieving sound.

“Right. Of course not. Have you considered that Y/N might just have been worried about you, and really did want to help?” Cas prompted, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Of course I have, Cas. But that doesn’t justify her lying about being a monster! We’ve known her years, and she never told us the truth!” he exclaimed. Cas hummed disapprovingly.

“Dean, you know that witches aren’t all bad. You just happen to have a great deal of experience weeding out the… bad apples,” he said slowly. “Can you really blame her for keeping it a secret, considering how you’ve reacted?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, and your teary face flashed again into his mind. He wondered how long you’d cried - if Sam had comforted you, like the big softie he was. If you’d thought about him at all the last few days. If you wished he’d reacted differently. ‘Cos god, he was wishing that right about now, too.

“She-she’s dangerous,” Dean protested lamely.

“If you really believed that, you would never have let Sam go after her alone,” Cas reminded him gently, and he couldn’t find the words to argue back. He let his eyes fall on the yellowed paper before him, the fading ink blurring into a meaningless jumble of letters as he struggled to make sense of the mass of emotions tangled amongst his thoughts.

“Why was I so angry?” he asked eventually. “She lied to me, and- and I was so pissed. But now I just… I miss her,” he admitted. Cas offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“You do have a tendency to lash out when you’re hurt,” he informed the Winchester. “I know that better than most. And it’s understandable that you could feel… betrayed,” Castiel continued slowly, and Dean grunted in agreement.

“Yeah, well, she did lie to me,” he muttered.

“So has Sam. And I, in the past. Don’t be angry, but… you do tend to latch onto small things to push people away. And I know,” Cas interjected as Dean opened his mouth to protest, “this isn’t exactly a tiny secret. But I think that the reason why she kept it was quite clear. The real question is - why did you feel the need to push her away in the first place?”

Dean swallowed hard, hating that the angel was right in his analysis, and hating even more how obvious the answer seemed to him now. Why had he pushed you away, just as you were starting to get close?

The answer came to him as easily as the alphabet. Because he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your concern, your care, your smiles. And above all, he certainly didn’t deserve your love. He didn’t deserve to be happy with you - he knew he’d only bring you down.

And so, Dean had done what Dean did best - found a means to push you away. To alienate himself from you, so that even if he changed his mind, you wouldn’t want to be with him after the way he had wronged you. So that you could be free of him. And it just so happened that your newly exposed identity as a witch was the perfect excuse to slice a rift between you.

Dean ran his hands over his face as he groaned. “God, Cas, she was just trying to help. She was trying to help me and I was such a fucking dick to her. How do I go back from that?” he asked helplessly, voice cracking as he raised his head to meet Castiel’s eyes. The angel’s face was solemn.

“I’d imagine you start with an apology.”

Dean sighed, mouth half open to speak when his phone vibrated against the table. His jaw fell closed, and he shot Cas a tense look before holding the phone up to his ear.

“Dean,” he muttered.

“Hiya, Dean!” Donna’s cheerful voice greeted. “Look, it could be nothing, but I might have a case for ya…”

---

You glanced up from your book as Sam’s phone vibrated across the room - the youngest Winchester had gone for a walk to clear his head from the seemingly endless lore and news articles the two of you had been picking apart since your hasty departure from the bunker. Sighing, you heaved yourself to your feet, rubbing at your temple absentmindedly as you glanced at the caller ID.

Dean.

Breath catching in your throat, you set your jaw and purposefully declined the call. Thoughts of the eldest Winchester didn’t bring you sadness, not anymore - instead, they fuelled your system with rage. How could he treat you like that, say those things to you after all you’d been through together? You humphed in annoyance, and just as you were about to re-take your seat, the phone began its incessant buzzing once more. Defeated, you held the phone up to your ear, bracing yourself for what was to come.

“Sam’s phone,” you said tersely, and the line fell dead silent.

“Y/N?” Dean asked, voice barely rising above a whisper. You cleared your throat, careful to keep your voice steady as you responded.

“That’s me - the one you kicked out, remember?” you said brightly, though your voice was underlaid with acidic anger that corroded your cheerful tone.

“I remember,” Dean muttered. “Y/N, I-”

The door opened, and you exhaled in relief as you pulled the phone from your ear. “Sam, it’s your brother,” you said stiffly, and Sam quirked an eyebrow before accepting the phone in your extended hand.

“Dean?” he asked in surprise, and you picked up your book again as Sam walked into the bathroom, closing the door while he continued the conversation with his brother. You heard his voice rise in irritation, but after a few more moments, he walked out with a defeated expression.

“Donna needs help on a hunt,” he said apologetically, beginning to gather his things. You jumped up and began to prepare your own, but paused at the confused expression clouding Sam’s face.

“Uh… Dean’s gonna be there. You don’t have to come,” he told you, and you shrugged half-heartedly.

“I feel so cooped up in here, I honestly don’t care. A hunt would do me some good - help me get out some pent up anger,” you explained, and Sam frowned but didn’t object again. “So, what are we looking at?” you asked.

“Uh, Dean said something about a “killer bunny,” Sam said, and you shot him a confused look.

“A what?”

“That’s all he said - it might not even be our kind of thing. I say we go down, give Donna some peace of mind, and if it’s not our kinda gig we let the police take it from there,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s hop on down and check out this killer bunny,” you said, smiling cheekily. Sam groaned.

“Really, Y/N?” he asked, though his tone was tinged with amusement. “Puns?”

“Hey, maybe it was an accident - you really ought to stop jumping to conclusions,” you defended, and he rolled his eyes.

“An accident? Yeah, I doubt it - you’re hardly being subtle,” he replied, and you grinned slyly.

“I guess you could even say I’m dangling a carrot in front of your face,” you pressed, and Sam turned to you in exasperation.

“You done?” he asked, despite the smile playing on his features. You grinned.

“Not even close.”

“Well, I’m putting an official ban on rabbit puns for at least the ride down,” Sam said, and you pouted.

“Why?” you whined, and he shot you a playful grin.

“They’re just not bunny.”

---

A pun-filled car ride later, the two of you strode into Donna’s precinct in your FBI getups, where Dean was already waiting for you.

“Sorry if we’re a hare late, traffic was a nightmare,” you greeted, pointedly ignoring Dean as you gave a laughing Donna a hug. Sam rolled his eyes fondly, and you winked at him before your sights fell on Dean. His eyes met yours, and he quickly lowered his gaze, clearing his throat before turning to Donna.

“So, what makes you think this is our kind of thing?” he asked. Donna explained the situation - gruesome murder, and an apprehended perp whose mask refused to budge. You whistled as she finished.

“Well, it’s certainly a hare-raising tail, but I’m not sure it’s our thing,” you said with a mischievous smile. Donna laughed, Sam rolled his eyes affectionately, and Dean tried a tentative smile of his own.

You ignored it.

“Yeah, but if uh, you’ve got a wild hare...” he added playfully. “See what I did there?” Donna laughed again, but you rolled your eyes and acted as though he hadn’t spoken, refusing to even meet his gaze. His heart sank, and the smile fell from his face.

A short while later, Donna led the three of you to the holding cells, where you frowned at the sight before you.

“Any witnesses?” Sam asked, and Donna nodded.

“Ex-wife - thought she was next, but the bunny just up and walked out the door!” she exclaimed.

“You ID him yet?” Dean queried, and Donna shook her head.

“Nope. No wallet, cell… ran his prints, but no prior record. Couldn’t even get our hands on him long enough to check for any identifying marks. Only thing we do know is he’s caucasian, roughly eighteen to twenty-five… and terrifying,” she breathed.

Donna was called away by Officer Stover, leaving the three of you, plus bunny, alone. You frowned, stepping closer and squinting at the bloodied mask.

“Are we sure it’s not just a really committed furry?” you asked slowly. Sam’s brow furrowed.

“What’s a-”

Dean frantically shook his head at his brother. “You don’t wanna know,” he interrupted, and the exaggerated fear in his voice brought a smile to your face. You quickly composed your expression, clearing your throat as Dean stepped forward and threw some mocking quips at the masked figure.

“What, took too much molly? Super-glued your mask to your head? Got paranoid, stabbed a guy? Been there,” he chuckled, and you scoffed. Dean turned around, frowning at your reaction, and the bunny seized the moment of distraction to grab him by the neck and slam him against the bars of the holding cell.

Sam busted out the holy water, to no avail. “Not a demon,” he remarked. You stood to the side, panic flaring in your chest at the sight of Dean struggling. No no no no no!

“Well, he’s strong!” Dean snapped, and Sam grabbed the bunny’s hands, trying to pry them off his brother’s neck. You rubbed your temple, trying to soothe your stress headache and willing yourself to think when it hit you.

“Wait, I’ve got this,” you muttered, pushing Sam back as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

“Any time now, Y/N!” Dean pressed.

“Shut it!” you snapped, before thrusting your hands forward. A surge of power had the attacker flying backwards and slamming into the wall. It didn’t seem to faze him - he got to his feet and stood perfectly still, those fake, glassy eyes seeming to stare straight at you. Dean winced, rubbing at his neck. As the adrenaline seeped from your veins, you felt your headache fade away.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, and you folded your arms, resolutely ignoring him. Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes fell on the bunny’s t-shirt - Minnesota Tech - and the tattoo on his arm - ‘Kylie Forever’.

“Kylie forever,” he mused. “That’ll work.”

It didn’t take you long to compile a list of potential ‘Kylie’s’, and Dean whistled at the length of it. “Alright, Y/N and I will take the first ten. Sam, you can-”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, actually, I’ll go with Sam,” you interjected, and Dean raised his brows in surprise.

“But- but we always team up,” he objected, voice ringing with hurt. You shot him a tight smile.

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t want you to have to swallow your disgust, would I?” you spat, and Dean flinched at your words as the reality of the situation crashed over him. How could he forget?

“Listen, Y/N…” he began, but you shook your head.

“Just�� leave it,” you grumbled. “We’ll check in later. C’mon, Sam,” you dismissed, grabbing Sam’s arm and walking away. Sam shot his brother an apologetic shrug, letting you guide him towards the exit.

Dean watched as you left, expelling a deep sigh as he ran his hand over the side of his face before shaking his head to himself. He jumped when Donna’s voice echoed from behind him.

“What’d’ya do to get her knickers all up in a bunch?” she asked, and Dean barked a dry laugh that died on his lips.

“I messed up, is what I did,” he informed her. “Things were good. Great. Better than, even - we were… well, we were about to be somethin’, anyways, but I… said some things I shouldn’t have. And now I dunno if she can forgive me. If I even deserve to be forgiven.”

Donna frowned. “Sounds like you should try apologising, bud. Don’t be afraid to go real sappy, neither, just make sure ya bein’ honest,” she advised, and Dean grunted.

“Yeah, I would if she’d actually talk to me,” he scoffed, and Donna hummed.

“Well, if she needs space, you gotta give it to her,” she said simply. “Can’t expect a girl to give ya a civil conversation if you didn’t give her one to start with, can ya? Piece of advice, though - if ya wanna patch things up, ya betta get in sooner rather than later. She and Sam are lookin’ real chummy,” she said, elbowing him slyly. He frowned.

“Her and Sam? No way. Really?”

Donna whistled. “Oh, yeah. Besta luck,” she said, patting him lightly on the back. “Catch ya later.”

As the blonde left, Dean stood for a moment, stewing in his own overwhelming emotions and chewing on the advice Donna had offered. You clearly wanted your space… and if you really were moving away from him and towards Sam… well, wasn’t pushing you away exactly what he’d wanted in the first place? Wouldn’t it be better for you to be with his kind, thoughtful brother instead of being stuck with… well, whatever kind of a mess Dean himself was?

He sighed, shaking his head and ignoring the hollow aching in his chest as he forced himself back to work. He could deal with this later - he wasn’t at breaking point.

Not yet.

---

It didn’t take long for the puzzle pieces to fall together - once you realised you were dealing with a ghost and managed to piece together a list of the costumes he was attached to, it took near no time at all to sort it out between you, Sam, Dean and Donna. You’d stuck with Sam the whole time, communicating with the others in quick phone calls and texts.

Sam was by your side when you tossed a match on the final costume, watching the fire sear through the fabric and the reeking smoke drift into the air as the ghost of Chester Johnson was eaten up by the tongues of hungry, flickering flames. You exhaled heavily as silence fell across the forest the two of you had found yourselves in, an echoing quiet broken only by the crackling of the fire.

“Well, that’s that,” you murmured. Sam swallowed, nodding.

“Yeah. Nice work.”

A smile sloped your lips. “You too. Now what?”

Sam’s phone buzzed before he could reply, and he tugged it from his pocket, glancing at the screen before his eyes met yours.

“Now we meet up with Dean and Donna,” he said. You were quiet.

“Right. Dean.”

“Y/N… maybe you should listen to what he has to say. It seems like-”

“I can’t, Sam. Not right now, not after he… it’s just too soon,” you mumbled, and Sam offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“Yeah. I get it. But you can’t stay mad at him forever,” he reminded you. You averted your gaze, eyes cast downwards.

“I know. But… I can’t forget. Not yet.”

Sam’s eyes softened, and he rested his hand soothingly on the curve of your waist. You ignored the stutter of your heart.

“Come on, let’s get back.”

The car ride back to the station was quick to draw the lingering tension between the two of you, replacing it with easy banter and refreshing laughter that still bubbled on your lips as the two of you stumbled into Dean.

“Hey - is it done?” he asked, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah - he’s gone. Everything’s burned,” Sam confirmed, and Dean grinned, clapping his brother on the back.

“Great work, Sammy!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s Sam,” he corrected affectionately, and Dean brushed him off with a nonchalant,

“Pssh.” He turned to you. “Good work, Y/N - you always could handle yourself on a hunt,” he complimented, and the smile died on your lips. Your jaw was taut as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you muttered. As much as a small part of you appreciated that Dean was making somewhat of an effort, the memories of that fateful night weren’t so easily erased. Years of friendship reduced to ashes in a single moment as Dean’s rage sent you packing - the echoes of his words still cut you, and you were yet to determine whether their scars would be permanent. At any rate, you knew you weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet.

Dean sighed. “Look, Y/N… can we talk?”

You half scoffed, feeling your defensive walls rise as you shook your head. “You didn’t exactly give me the liberty of a discussion the other night, did you?”

Your words came out harsher than you intended, and you felt a flicker of guilt at the hurt in Dean’s eyes that you quickly forced yourself to quell. Dean shook his head in disbelief, the action paired with a sharp intake of breath as your words slammed into him like a brick.

“C’mon, man… I was angry. It was a lot to take in, you can’t expect me to just-”

“Dean,” Sam warned, cutting his brother off before he could raise his voice. Dean took a breath, nodding, and you interrupted him as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Whatever, Dean. I’ll be seeing you.” The words were cold, your tone colder as you spun on your heel, stalking back to the car. Despite the hurt welling in your chest, you found yourself half-hoping that he’d follow you, that he’d properly apologise, that things could go back to some semblance of normal…

But Dean watched as you left, Donna’s words ringing in his head. “If she needs space, you gotta give it to her.” As much as every bone in his body longed to follow you, to hug you and kiss you and whisper the words that would fix everything, he stayed put. There were no magic words, no embraces nor kisses that could fix the mess he had made.

And so, with a heavy heart, he let you leave.

---

The car ride back to the motel was draped with a silence so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife. You didn’t want to think, not right now, so you busied yourself staring out the window at the scenery, leached navy and grey in the moonlight. The road was quiet at this time - the two of you were alone, your only company the yellow glow of the headlights bouncing back at you from the green road signs you passed.

You could feel another headache coming on, so you popped some aspirin and swallowed them dry. The pills were bitter and powdery as they started to crumble on your tongue, and you winced as you finally got them down. Sam glanced over at you when he heard the crinkle of the aluminium sheet of tablets, but maintained his silence.

When he pulled into the parking lot, you headed to the room in sullen silence. You collapsed onto your bed still fully clothed, kicking off your shoes as you sighed. Your conversation with Dean had left a hollow sensation in your chest you weren’t quite certain how to shake. Glancing over at Sam, you saw him climbing into bed and shooting a concerned glance your way. You met it with a ghost of a smile.

“Do you mind…”

He chuckled. “C’mon,” he invited, nodding to his bed. A breathy laugh fell from your lips as you crawled into his bed, letting him tuck you against his chest. You’d slept beside him every night you’d stayed in the motel thus far - his warm presence helped you drift off better than any of your hex bags ever could. Your magic couldn’t replicate the gentle rise and fall of his chest, nor the patterns his fingers would trace over your spine.

“This is just a mess, isn’t it?” you asked weakly, and felt the sudden sinking of Sam’s torso as he sighed.

“Maybe a little,” he allowed, shooting you a small smile that you instinctively returned.

“I just… I don’t know how to feel. I wish things could just go back to the way they were, but… that’s not going to happen, is it? Not now that he knows,” you whispered. “God, I wish I wasn’t… me. Everything would be so much easier.” Sam fell into a thoughtful silence, and you almost thought he’d fallen asleep until his voice broke the comfortable quiet hanging over the room.

“Things won’t be the same,” he said eventually. “But… maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe this is something you needed, something to push you towards…” He trailed off, sighing again as he shook his head. “I dunno. But I don’t think you should just give up on things getting better,” he said. “And you definitely shouldn’t regret being true to yourself. You… God, you’re incredible, Y/N. And if Dean can’t see that, then that’s his loss.”

You smiled at his soothing words, glancing up at him in the darkness. Shadows clung to his skin, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the perfect disarray of his hair. He caught you staring and chuckled, the dimples in his cheeks protruding at the action.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you said eventually, and he shook his head, fingers moving to comb through your hair, gently tugging out the knots. You stared at him a moment longer, your lips forming your next words before you’d even realised you’d spoken.

“Why do you let me call you Sammy? You always correct Dean,” you realised, and Sam laughed sheepishly, the sound swallowed by the darkness. He shrugged.

“I dunno. I guess… when Dean says it, I know he’s seeing me as just his kid brother. But when you say it… it feels different. Almost comforting.” He shrugged again, ducking his head in embarrassment. “That probably sounds stupid…”

You shook your head. “No - not at all,” you breathed, breath catching as his eyes flitted to yours. You were vaguely aware that at some point during your conversation your headache had faded, the space it occupied replaced with Sam’s smile, the warmth of his voice, and solid presence of his arms around you.

His proximity seemed to become more apparent as you became aware of your heart thumping against your ribs. If he noticed, he kept it to himself, though you knew there was no way he could miss the sudden hitch in your breathing as he adjusted to nestle you snug against his side. The simple, caring movement unleashed a wave of emotions you’d been fighting to hold back for longer than you cared to admit - feelings you’d bottled up and pushed away, dismissing them as faint impossibilities, distant fantasies that would never see the light of day.

And so, how fitting it was that you found your breaking point under the dark protection of the night.

Before you could stop yourself, your mouth was slanting against his, sleepy and soft and slow. Sam froze beneath you, and you quickly pulled back, but before you could panic he was returning his lips to yours. Your eyes fell closed as his thumb found the side of your face, brushing along your cheekbone as he tilted your chin up to gain better access to your mouth. Sam’s hand wandered to your waist, clutching you close against him as he twisted his neck to deepen the kiss, the press of his mouth on yours a far more important cause than maintaining his own comfort; your smile, captured in the gentle exploration of his lips over yours, made the straining of his muscles worth it.

But as all good things do, the kiss came to an end. You couldn’t keep the smile from your face as you leaned into Sam’s chest, closing your eyes as his lips found your hair, whispering his goodnight into your scalp. But as sleep began to carry you off in her gentle waves, your mind couldn’t help but drift to Dean - in the bunker that felt more than a thousand miles away, the other side of his bed cold but for the empty bottle he was surely nursing. Dean - still sleeping alone.

His tired, green eyes were the last sight your mind conjured, before sleep finally washed you away.

__________

Read part six here!

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alwayssunnyprompts · 5 years

Note

Prompt: Dennis has the flu but Mac's having a terrible anxiety day. Mac tries so hard to keep it together for Dennis' sake, but he breaks and Dennis, who is still really sick, helps make Mac feel better. (In honor of your Mac has an anxiety disorder posts bc yes Mac definitely struggles with anxiety and I love your interpretation of it) 😀

Mac wakes up to Dennis crawling in bed next to him.

There’s only the faint silver glow of morning light filtering into his room, and as his eyes focus past the tiny specks of dust floating in the air, they land on him, curled up to Mac’s right.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence for them, if he really wants to be honest with himself. Still, it’s usually reserved for after a long day of getting drunk off boatloads of the cheapest booze money can buy, or a few rare nights after Dennis has had a horrible day.

As far as Mac knows, last night was relatively normal. A little boring, even. They’d argued over which Lord of the Rings movie was the best—and both agreed on Fellowship of the Ring—before settling in for movie night with a few beers. They’d gone to bed around midnight, a little early for them. Is Dennis sick? Did he do something wrong? He feels panic rise in his throat, a stone of guilt heavy in his stomach. He swallows. Dennis seems perpetually upset at him these days. He just doesn’t know how to make him happy anymore.

It’s silly to be so worried, he tries to tell himself, Dennis wouldn’t be here if he was angry at him. It doesn’t make him feel any less guilty. Dennis has a way of doing that to people. Mac wracks his brain for anything else that might have made Dennis upset, but he comes up blank.

Yet, Dennis is here, wrapped tightly in Mac’s comforter. He rolls to face him carefully, trying not to catch his attention just yet.

Dennis’ eyes are closed delicately, and Mac tries not to let his breath catch as he looks him over. He looks a little pale, but Dennis is pretty pasty anyway. Not that he’d say it to Dennis’ face. He’s so sensitive about his looks. Mac isn’t sure why, because Dennis has always looked pretty much the same—he’s a solid 10 in Mac’s opinion, but he sure as hell isn’t going to feed his ego. Besides, Dennis wouldn’t believe him. Mac narrows his eyes as they’re drawn to sweat beading on Dennis’ upper lip and forehead, which trigger confusion in the back of Mac’s head. Is he hot? He shouldn’t be. With the fan on, it’s comfortably cool in his room, and Dennis gets cold easily. Then again, he also gets hot easily.

Mac sometimes wonders if Dennis has ever really been comfortable anywhere.

He clenches his fist repeatedly as he feels worry building in his chest, tries to remember what people have told him about controlling his panic. He doesn’t like calling it “anxiety,” that sounds so serious and clinical. The name alone makes his mouth dry and his heart pound harder. He swallows again, tries to work up some saliva. He doesn’t want to spiral today, hates how little it takes to get himself worked up. He doesn’t understand why some days are so hard, why everything scares him so much, why he’s so weak, what sin he committed that would cause God to punish him like this. He takes a deep breath, though it does little to calm the racing of his heart.

“Dennis?”

Nothing. A twitch of an eyebrow or the corner of his mouth, maybe, but nothing that signals awareness, let alone signs of him waking up.

Mac reaches out and lets his fingertips brush against his cheek. He tries to be as gentle as he can, though his pulse is jumping and he can feel his cheeks heat at even the tiny, insignificant contact. A hot spike of guilt cuts through his thoughts. He shouldn’t enjoy touching Dennis when he’s like this. What if Dennis gets upset? He grits his teeth against the invasive thoughts, tries tapping Dennis’ cheek again.

“Dennis?”

Dennis groans softly, an involuntary noise, as his eyelids flutter, and Mac can’t help the tiny smile that tugs at his lips. He keeps his hand hovering over Dennis’ face, despite the heat and his heart and the white noise building in his ears.

“Time is it?”

His voice is quiet and rough, and Mac watches him swallow convulsively a few times before clearing his throat. He opens his eyes for a second, unfocused and sleepy, and a little bloodshot, before screwing them tightly shut again.

Mac doesn’t feel like taking his eyes off of Dennis, so he ball-parks the answer.

“Like six in the morning, man.”

“Mhmm,” he burrows deeper into the blankets. His body suddenly flinches, and Mac rests a hand on his shoulder as he coughs, once, twice, three times, hard and dry.

Mac frowns.

He slowly moves his hand back to Dennis’ face, concern and his innate need to protect Dennis taking over and brushes away the hair lying damp against his forehead. He feels really warm, in the dangerous way that sets off all sorts of alarms in Mac’s head. He breaks a sweat just thinking about something being wrong. Why does Dennis have to be sick today? Why today? He’s already feeling so strange and uncomfortable and he needs taking care of. But so does Dennis, and he takes priority.

“Dennis,” he waits a few seconds and receives a soft grunt in response. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Hmm,” he mutters, sounding miles away.

“Do you feel okay, dude? You felt kinda warm.”

He tries so hard not to let his nerves betray him. If Dennis is already feeling sick, he doesn’t need to get caught up in Mac’s panic cycle. He doesn’t deserve that.

“Head, stomach, throat,” he coughs again, and Mac can see red blotches high on his cheeks. “Chest,” he adds with a wry smile.

Mac feels like he’s swallowed a second heart and it’s beating in his throat, pounding in his neck. It’s hard to breathe. Why can’t his body just cooperate? He wants to take care of Dennis, he wants to pour himself into the act, lose himself in the ritual of caring and nursing and calming and not think anymore. He wants his brain to just shut off, for a minute, just a minute, so he can actually formulate an attack plan for this flu.

“Okay,” he says, gentle as he can muster. “Want some water?”

Mac pastes a smile on his face that he desperately hopes seems sincere.

Dennis’ eyebrows furrow, his expression a little confused before it softens and the something in his eyes only reserved for Mac is on full display.

“That obvious, huh?”

The sarcastic response is directly in contrast with the tenderness on his face and Mac hates that he’s so confusing. Dennis hardly ever says what he means. He’s vague, he’s unclear, even when he’s acting like he’s being perfectly understandable. Mac just wants a straight answer; he needs a straight answer today. He doesn’t have the energy to stave off a panic attack, take care of Dennis, and try and translate all of Dennis’ comments into what he actually means to communicate. Sure, maybe he can handle it most of the time, and it’s just normal, just another day in his life but his emotions are bubbling up to the surface and he’s so close to breaking that he—

He stops himself, realizing that he’s been silent for too long. The thought almost sends him down another rabbit hole.

“Thanks,” Dennis says, letting a tiny, genuine smile light up his pale face.

Some of the tight pain in Mac’s chest eases, his breathing calming just enough for him to think a cohesive thought.

“Of course, man.”

Water, he thinks. He can do that. For now, blessedly, his legs still work.

In a fog, he forces himself to walk to the kitchen and grab water, some chips—they’re out of crackers, but Dennis might need something salty to settle his stomach—and some extra strength pain killers.

With the supplies gathered in his arms, he takes a minute to stand in the empty room and get his bearings. He’s still jittery, still off-kilter. Still feels foggy and strange. He just wants to feel normal.

Mac closes his eyes for a minute, tries to ground himself in the moment.

It’ll all be okay.

If he keeps telling himself, he might believe it.

Dennis hasn’t moved an inch in the time he was gone. A confusing mixture of affection and anxiety blossoms through his chest. He walks around the bed and sits down next to Dennis, putting the provisions on the shelf next to him.

He reaches down and runs a quick hand through Dennis’ hair to get him moving. It may be just his panic talking, but he swears Dennis already feels hotter than he did before. Before he can forget, he runs to the bathroom and grabs their thermometer, just in case.

“Hey, Dennis? I brought some water and stuff. I have chips, if you’re hungry. I know you said you feel sick, but it might help to have something in your stomach.”

Rambling, rambling, rambling. He can’t seem to form a concise sentence to save his life. Still, Dennis seems to understand. He groans again but pushes himself into some semblance of a sitting position. Swaying in place, he tries to focus his eyes on Mac, brings a hand to his forehead.

“Oh, god,” he whines. “Shit. I don’t feel good.”

“What do you need?” Mac responds instantly. “Meds, food, water?”

Dennis blinks vigorously, like he’s trying to shake something off. Dizziness, probably. Mac always feels dizzy when he gets sick, but he doesn’t get sick very often. As much as Dennis preaches about germs and quarantine and “perfect control of his body,” he’s actually really susceptible to illness and gets sick pretty often. If there’s something going around, he’ll probably catch it.

“Uhh, food. Water. Then meds?”

Mac nods.

“Okay, here.”

He rushes to open the chips before Dennis changes his mind. It’s hard to get Dennis to eat on an average day, let alone a sick day.

Dennis manages to down a few chips, in the slowest manner possible. He takes such tiny bites that Mac has to watch to make sure he’s actually consuming them, feeling a rush of relieved adrenaline each time one disappears.

He’s almost able to relax as Dennis pushes the bag away, still chewing and gesturing toward the bottle of water. Clears his throat as if to speak, but dissolves quickly into a fit of coughing. Adrenaline spikes again, frantic and fiery and exploding through his veins. He can hear a wheeze in Dennis’ chest, see how his entire body clenches as he tries to stop coughing.

Mac pats his shoulder and goes for the water, opening the bottle carefully and Dennis tries to make his lungs relax. He gestures with the bottle and Dennis nods, but makes no move to grab it.

With careful hands and white static buzzing in his brain, Mac brings the bottle up to Dennis’ lips, lets a bit of water slide down his throat. He takes tiny sips, he’s breathing, and his chest doesn’t sound so terrifying. Mac smiles.

“You’re doing good. Do you want medicine? I brought the small pills, so they won’t hurt your throat.”

Dennis swallows, glances at the pills, and sighs, nodding. He holds the water bottle himself when he swallows them, drinks about a quarter more of it, before setting it back down on the shelf.

He slides back under Mac’s blankets, shivering.

“Tired,” he mutters.

“Hey! Wait,” Mac shoots him and apologetic look when he startles at the exclamation. “Let me take your temperature?”

Dennis stares incredulously back at him, with more righteous indignation on his face than should be possible, given his condition.

“Fine.”

It’s resigned and exhausted, but it’s a yes.

Any relief Mac felt evaporated from his body when he looks at the reading on the device.

103.5º

Shit.

It’s high. That’s a high fever. Mac has enough basic medical knowledge to realize that 103 goddamn degrees is too high. He feels his pulse pounding. But Dennis has just taken medicine that promises to fix that problem, and as of right now, there isn’t much more he can do.

“Okay, Dennis. You can sleep.”

He wastes no time curling back up, and with Mac running the surface of the cool water bottle over the back of his neck, he falls into an uneasy nap. Mac hates listening to his heavy, labored breathing, but he can’t stand to leave his side.

Instead, he gently massages Dennis’ chest, hoping that it brings some sort of relief to him. In the relative silence of the room, Mac can feel panic edging back in, eating up the outskirts of his mind. How is Dennis feeling? Not just physically, but emotionally? He never talks to him anymore, not really. Living in a constant state of unknowing is wearing Mac down, little by little it’s eating away at who he is. He feels tired and lonely most of the time, he’s on edge constantly, and he has way more panicky days than he ever did before. And he can’t even really discuss them with the only person who might actually give a shit about what he’s going through.

He feels the welling pressure of tears, but he bites them back. He doesn’t want to wake Dennis up for at least half an hour. He needs rest, and time for the medicine to start working.

Unfortunately, roughly 15 minutes of restless sleep later, Dennis coughs himself awake, a series of painful, loud choking noises bringing back Mac’s laser focus.

He breathes slowly, drinks some more water, and glances at Mac with bright, feverish eyes, scrambling frantically to get closer to him.

Mac feels a spike of shock before he lets the tension release, rubbing the back of Dennis’ neck softly.

Dennis leans against Mac’s chest, buries his nose into his shirt. If the medicine has kicked in, there aren’t any signs of it yet. He’s radiating blistering heat, and the sweat from earlier has evaporated, leaving his face ashen and dry.

No sweat was bad, right? Mac wracks his brain for any loose medical knowledge lying around.

Another coughing fit leaves Dennis trembling against him, gasping and gripping at Mac’s arm so tightly he thinks it might break. Dennis is small, but he has a surprisingly strong grip when he needs to.

He can hear the rough crackle of congestion in Dennis’ lungs as he tries to suck in a breath.

“Okay?” Mac asks softly.

“Spinning,” he murmurs, his breath harsh and warm. “Head’s spinning.”

Mac wants to cry. But he can’t, not now. Not while Dennis needs his help, when he needs for Mac to be strong and do his job and stop being so selfish. Tears burn in the corners of his eyes. He rakes a shaky hand through Dennis’ hair, trying to take deep breaths. He needs to be strong for Dennis. Dennis, who looks so small and sick, who needs Mac more than anyone who’s ever needed him before, who is Mac’s whole entire world. Mac wonders how much space he takes up in Dennis’.

Dennis’ eyes flutter as he takes a rattling breath. His hand grasps for his chest, tangling in his shirt, tugging at the fabric. A cough burbles up from his lungs before he can get back to resting, his next breath nothing but a quick gasp before he dissolves into more hacking, hardly able to come up for air. Again, and again and again, and the noises cut straight to Mac’s heart, and he can feel Dennis shivering against him, hear the wheezing in his chest as he tries and fails to breathe.

Mac’s vision is swimming, but his better instincts take over, and somehow, he’s propping Dennis up against the pillows, rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades with one hand, his other braced against Dennis’ sternum. The heaving of Dennis’ chest against his hand makes him feel sick.

“Okay, okay. Come on, take a breath. Breathe through your nose if you can, man. You can do it, Dennis—”

Dennis takes a desperate breath, leading to a cough that ends with a sound that is dangerously close to a gag. Mac tries to bite his tongue against his own nausea while reaching to grab the bin from beside his bed. He gets it in front of Dennis just quickly enough, and he’s violently sick, still coughing. Tears flood down his face, trailing out of bloodshot eyes, and the noises he’s making are so horrible that Mac doesn’t know what to do. He’s retching and coughing and crying, and if it was anyone else Mac would be puking his guts out right now, but it’s Dennis and he needs to be here for him. And he is. In body, at least.

Amid the sputtering and agony, he’s managed to get Mac’s thigh in a vice grip. It will bruise, Mac knows, but it doesn’t matter.

Mac absorbs the scene like a series of short clips, his mind stuttering through the horrible situation in an attempt to cope. Dennis is throwing up—what, Mac doesn’t know—and his chest sounds so bad and he’s shaking so hard and he’s wheezing and he’s feverish and shit, he’s probably thrown up the medicine and he needs to breathe, why is it so hard for him to breathe? Dennis needs to breathe. He needs to breathe. He needs to breathe.

Mac needs to breathe.

Shit, he’s hyperventilating. His chest is seizing up the more Dennis coughs, the longer he goes between gasps of air, the longer he spends bent over Mac’s trash can. He can’t think. He can’t do anything but keep rubbing Dennis’ back, holding the bin, whispering comforts to Dennis that he probably can’t even hear over the sounds of his own sickness. Mac can’t even hear himself, the static back in his ears and he wonders if maybe he’s sick too, maybe he’s gone deaf. Maybe he’s dying. Maybe they both are. Maybe—

“Mac.”

Dennis’ voice is so faint that it almost doesn’t register. He’s still coughing, spitting into the bin. But his eyes are on Mac. Beautiful blue ruined by burst blood vessels and the glassiness of fever, framed by tears mingling with snot and he looks helpless and frail and small.

“You okay?” It’s little more than a croak. It probably hurts to talk.

Why is Dennis asking him that? He’s the one that almost just passed out into his own puke from lack of oxygen. He’s the one with the 103º fever, he’s the one who needs help. Mac is fine.

But he blinks in response, his brain going vacant for a minute. Long enough to realize his eyes are wet. His whole face is. Goddamnit, he’s crying. And he’s still trying to breathe, and he feels like his throat is locked up. He’s broken. No words are coming out.

Dennis wipes his mouth and places the bin back on the floor with as much dignity as he can muster. He’s still wheezing, eyes fluttering back up to Mac, exhausted and cautious and scared.

“It’s okay,” he tries for comforting, but it comes out sounding like he’s on his deathbed. “It’s okay. I’m—I’m okay, Mac. Promise.”

The smile he tries to muster is absolutely pathetic. He looks like he’s wasted and trying his best to convince himself that he’s sober. His skin is gray and sweaty, and his eyes are bloodshot and unfocused, and he’s still shaking so badly that his teeth click together every few seconds. It’s almost funny how terrible he looks.

Despite himself, Mac hacks out a tiny chuckle.

“You look,” he pauses to try and regulate his breathing. “You look dead, dude.”

Dennis coughs, and Mac guesses he means it to be a stand-in for a laugh.

“I feel dead.”

Mac’s heart rate speeds again at the statement, and he aches to be calm, aches to be a safe place for Dennis, aches to be a wall—strong and impenetrable and protective and emotionless—rather than the mess of nerves and weakness that he is.

“I’m so sorry,” the words come out choked and teary. “I’m so sorry, Den. I tried to be strong for you and take care of you. I didn’t want to put you through this, but I just feel so…”

He trails off, a sob welling in his throat.

“I feel so wrong today. My head, I don’t know,” he rambles. “The feeling is really…strong. I wanted it go away but it just kept getting more bad and you’re so sick and you aren’t getting better and I didn’t want to make it worse.”

The volcano that’s been threatening to erupt all day finally does, and then he can’t stop sobbing, and shaking, and he covers his face, trying stop himself, shame and guilt threatening to choke him.

“Mac…”

He’s waiting for a response. Doesn’t Dennis know that he can’t? What more can he say? What more can he ruin? He can’t risk what little relationship they have left.

He feels Dennis shift beside him, a featherlight weight on his shoulder.

Dennis’ hand.

Far too gentle, and barely-there, it feels like nothing, an invisible weight. And shit, Dennis is so skinny and so sick and so different—they’re both so different—and Mac’s crying harder, but he lowers his hands to look at him.

“Yeah?”

He almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. It seems so worn and thin, ragged and small. He feels disconnected from it.

“Mac.”

It’s more deliberate, has clear intention. Dennis’ eyes are full of concern, but there’s a commanding sternness that compels Mac to listen. It’s enough to let him start to wind down.

Hold breath in, count to five, slow release.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Let his hands rub at his eyes, dry them, dull the itch.

He’s still shuddering and shaking, and he feels empty. Physically and emotionally spent, his brain feels like it’s floating miles above his body. He’s staring at Dennis but isn’t sure if he can see him.

“Are you okay?”

The situation is so, so absurd. Dennis is dying of the flu and he’s asking Mac if he’s okay. He isn’t. Neither is Dennis.

“I think so,” he says anyway.

Dennis, despite everything, smiles.

“Good.”

Mac breathes out a tiny laugh.

“Jesus, we’re really goddamn messed up, huh?”

A world of emotions flash through Dennis’ eyes. He moves closer to let his forehead rest against Mac’s.

“Yeah, I guess we are,” he chuckles.

58 notes · View notes

hbwbyniall · 5 years

Text

The Letter Club

This a Sherlock AU, it’s also @fuckanarry ‘s fault so she had to help me with the corrections. This took me forever bc my life is a mess and I think I just became an adult this year so I’m constantly suffering.

Enjoy!

His walking stick resonates in the entire abandoned warehouse as he walks in and Niall wonders if he’s really this stupid. One second he was walking down London streets and the next public phones start ringing wherever he stands until he picks up and this mysterious voice of a woman demands him to get into a car that appears out of nowhere to take him to this empty place with the only indication of walking straight by a woman dresses in a suit with tattoos covering her hands and arms.

He's not intimated, he's just curious and a bit impressed. Perhaps h33e wants to meet the person capable of using security cameras and public phones at their will, he especially wants to know what a person like that would want with a person like him. Niall leans his weight on the walking stick to speed up his steps until he sees a silhouette at the end of the hallway.

It’s a woman leaning on a closed umbrella with her other hand on her waist. As Niall gets closer, he gets a better look at her. She’s beautiful in a way that makes his bones tremble and his feet trip, her eyes are cold and stoic, her skin is fair and Niall can see some freckles behind the makeup and the red lips. She’s also young, way younger than he expected by the sound of her voice on the phone, assuming it was her voice.

So, he immediately starts looking for a way out: he tries to calculate the distance between the center of the place, the door he just entered from and the door behind the woman; he tries to think how fast he can be with a defective knee and how much damage would he need to make to get out of danger. He moves slowly, taking all in before, remembering the feeling, the spark of adrenaline running down his spine, his brain working full speed and the smirk he's trying to hide.

Her dark green eyes follow him until he stands in front of her and a single chair in the middle of the open space. He clears his throat. Her hair goes down to her shoulders and looks like a brown wavy cascade that moves elegantly at the slightest head movement. Her hand falls into the left pocket of the black suit pants. She opens her coat with the other hand, holding the umbrella under her fingers and Niall can see the black and white jacket.

She's rich. He can tell by the way her hair shines on the top of her head to the expensive high heels with the red coloring part at the back. He also knows by the way she's looking at him, examining him. Niall loses up the collar of his shirt and puts both hands on the handle of his walking stick.

“Sit down, John," she says with the same refined tone he heard on the phone just moments ago.

"You know," Niall says looking around him, “I’ve got a phone.” He tilts his head to the right to get a better look of the woman in front of him. “I mean, very clever and all that,” he smiles with the same arrogance he sees in her face, “But you could’ve just called me.”

“When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes,” she smiles, looking at her feet and Niall’s smile slowly start to fade away. How does she know Harry? “One learns to be discreet.”

Niall looks around him, then. He is in some kind of warehouse and it’s completely empty besides for the two of them standing in the middle of a large room and the car that drove Niall here, which is waiting to return him behind him, according to what that lady with the tattoos; Louise, Niall remembers when she introduced herself; said. The lights are on but the place smells like it's been washed with rainwater and Niall's starting to get a stuffy nose.

“Your knee must be hurting you. Sit down,” she says again, pointing at the chair behind him with her hand but Niall doesn’t move.

“I don’t want to sit down," Niall answers, not breaking eye contact as she smirks. “Who are you?” he finally asks.

“Who I am is not important right now,” she says, looking directly at his eyes with a smile. “I’m more interested in your relationship with Sherlock Holmes.”

“What do you have to do with Harry?” Niall replies with a question and her whole facial expression changes.

She slowly frowns, letting every single part of face fall as she looks at Niall like she’s seeing him for the first time. Maybe Niall accidentally found a weak spot, something the person in front of him didn't expect him to know, but he can't figure out what exactly it was. That is probably due to the fact of how hard he's trying to not look nervous or freak out right now, but if there's anything he has learned in the last couple of days then he should start getting used to this kind of thing.

"So you call him Harry," she says and Niall can hear the surprise in her voice. "Only a few people call him that.” And he doesn’t know if she’s whispering to him or to herself.

The woman clears her throat and looks to her right holding the umbrella with both hands. She's smiling again, but it's a different smile; it's calm and almost imperceptible like it's a secret.

“What’s your connection with Sherlock Holmes?” she asks again and Niall physically steps back.

"I don't have one," Niall answers, eager for clearing his throat too but not letting himself show any type of weakness, even if it’s over something he cannot control. “I barely know him,” he explains and then Niall realizes he doesn’t know Harry at all. “I met him… a few days ago.”

The woman laughs and Niall can see it in her eyes, she doesn’t believe it. But that’s the thing, Niall is not lying. Two days ago he was struggling to find an affordable place to live in London and the next day he bumps into Ed, an old friend, and he introduces him to Sherlock Holmes, who was looking for a flatmate, and then it was all a blur.

Harry and Niall were having some breakfast in the restaurant of one of his acquaintances to talk about Baker Street, the rent and the requirements when Lestrade called him for a case. Harry asked him if he wanted to come along and Niall hasn't agreed to something that fasts in a long time. He knew very little about Sherlock Holmes but what he did know is that he works for the police solving cases which only a few other people know seemed to know.

“He’s not a public person.” Said Ed when he told him about Harry before introducing one to the other.

Niall studied with Ed Sheeran in an all-boys boarding school back in Ireland and for some reason, he bumped into him in a park in London after many years of not hearing about each other and after a bit of small talk, he said that he knows someone who’s also looking for a flatmate. Half an hour later, they're both standing in front of a Laboratory's door with Sherlock Holmes inside.

If he has to be honest, Niall didn’t believe a word Ed told him about Harry. Legends are always being exaggerated and even the name “Sherlock Holmes” sounded like an urban legend. So he wasn’t prepared at all for what was waiting on the other side of the door or how he felt completely unarmed and vulnerable in front of his eyes, because apparently, all he needed was a look to uncover Niall’s biggest secrets. He was intrigued.

So, while he didn’t get the chance to see him in the case he was working on when they met, he jumped on the opportunity of seeing the great Sherlock Holmes in action the moment he got that call while they were having breakfast.

Niall has been at war, worse than that, he has been an army doctor. He has seen the worst condition of the human body and has seen more pain than anyone can handle in a lifetime. Seeing the boy's body in that room reminded him of that and quiet surprised Lestrade that he didn’t react to it after Harry briefly introduced them. The truth is he wanted to puke, right there in front of everyone.

His shoes were missing, his face was smashed, his fingertips were severely damaged, and blood was everywhere. The smell of it was strong as well, it was on the floor, the walls, and the bed where he was lying. Lestrade called the crime scene a “mess”, Harry called it “interesting”.

Seeing him "in action" wasn't quite what he expected. He is quiet except when he tells people to move or not to touch certain things, but then he just observes and only talks to Lestrade. He only asked about the time of death and he did it looking at Niall who wasn't ready to be involved, thus it took him a couple of minutes to understand the fact that he was talking to him and to give him an answer.

After that he didn’t need much. He knew who found him – not the name of the person but he knew it was in the morning after the party ended by the owner of the house –, he also knew that the kid was wealthy and he came with companion, not just one person but a group, maybe some friends from university, and he also knew they left the crime scene somewhere around two in the morning. When he was done he left the room, leaving Lestrade taking notes and Niall standing in the middle of it, wondering if he just made all of it up or he really just needed a few looks at the room to figure it out.

He knew things about Niall no one else could, like how he used only his first name and his last name when he was serving in the army instead of Niall because he thought he would be saving some part of himself he didn’t want to lose once he joined. He knew about his knees and how he used to play guitar by one glance at his nails. He knew about his brother’s alcoholism and how his wife left him just by looking at his phone and when he finally looked into his eyes, Niall felt like that man already knew everything that could be known about the Irish doctor and he felt exposed like never before.

Only then he asked him to call him Harry and meet at 221-B Baker Street.

“Mhmm,” the woman approaches him and the proximity of the dark green eyes makes Niall blink a couple of times until he can finally focus, “…and since yesterday you’ve moved in with him and now you’re solving crimes together.” Niall is starting to feel a bit dizzy. “Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?”

Who is this woman? “Who are you?” Niall asks again, louder this time.

"An interested party," she says this time, easily, like she has answered that question a hundred times before.

“Interested in Harry? Why?” Niall steps forward but she doesn’t move, just crosses her arms under her breast and looks up at Niall, directly into his eyes. “I’m guessing you’re not friends,” he says slowly as he evaluates her reaction.

She laughs again but this times it’s more genuine, like Niall actually said something funny.

“You’ve met him.” She smiles at him, tilting her head to the side, looking at him condescendingly. “How many friends do you imagine he has?”

It's not the first time he has heard that in such a short amount of time. Harry seems to be surrounded by all these different kind of people and they all seem to want something from him. They rely on him but at the same time, he seems so… lonely. There’s something in his eyes, the void of any kind of emotions in the way he talks that makes Niall think he was the one in the war instead of him.

And that just makes him wonder more and more about the green eyes and the curly brown hair. The little things that disconcert him that somehow are out of Harry’s character, like the hidden smiles he has caught every time he deducts something and turns out to be right or how his hands go soft in his pocket after he gets something he wants, or how childish he is in general but hides it behind a cunning look on his face or his haughty tone of voice when he explains something not everyone understands.

Everyone around him finds him annoying, but Niall, he finds him fascinating and kind of amusing.

“I’m the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Harrington Holmes is capable of having.” She interrupts his train of thought again and this time, Niall frowns.

“And what’s that?” Niall asks.

“An enemy.”

Niall freezes for a second to look into her eyes. She means it.

“An enemy?” he finds himself asking again and she nods.

“In his mind, certainly.” She uses the umbrella to support her weight again, stepping in the middle with her legs open and somehow, she looks even more intimidating than five seconds ago. "If you were to ask, he’d probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic.” She laughs and for a second Niall thinks he sees fond in her eyes before the now familiar cold returns.

He does. Harry is quite dramatic which Niall can tell from the handful of times they have spent together so far. But now Niall is very confused. Who has an arch-enemy? What do you have to do to even have an enemy?

“And you don’t?” Niall asks looking at the empty space around them, trying to make a point. This whole charade, making public phones ring, moving surveillance cameras, black car picking him up in the middle of the street and an intimidating assistant that guides him into empty storage only to find a woman standing there with red lips and in a suit.

That’s a bit theatrical and Harry would love it. Niall can't help when the look on the woman's face breaks a little and she's about to say something but Niall's phone beeps and he takes it out of his pocket only to find a text from Harry.

Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. –H.

Niall clears his throat as he thinks what could have come up since he left Harry with Detective Inspector Lestrade and how long he’s been back home already.

“I hope I’m not distracting you,” she says to make herself notable again and Niall is grateful for it because he really doesn’t have the time or the head to ask himself why he just referred to Baker Street as home.

“Not distracting me at all,” he answers as he puts his phone back into his pocket but he can't quite shut out his thoughts now. Is Harry okay?

“Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?” Her voice is growing numb as she starts losing Niall's attention but somehow, that sentences make him frown, looking at her from a new perspective, one that makes him feel threatened.

“I could be wrong… but I think that’s none of your business,” Niall replies with a smile trying to imitate her posture, using his stick to do the trick.

“It could be,” she answers, plainly.

"It really couldn't," Niall replies and he's not liking where this is going. He can easily step down and go back to Baker Street to find out what it is that Harry needs from him but that would give him no answers about what he's doing here and who this woman is.

“If you do move into, ehm,” she puts her hand into her jacket and pulls out a red velvet notebook only to open it and read from it, “221B Baker Street,” and Niall freezes.

It shouldn’t really surprise him. Someone with the power of controlling street surveillance cameras and payphones is completely capable of finding out Harry's address, but for some reason his heart starts beating faster and he can feel his hands getting sweaty. He needs to get back to the flat now.

“I could pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way,” she finishes, putting back the notebook where it was at the beginning.

“Why?” he asks, trying not to show how nervous he’s getting.

“Because you’re not a wealthy man,” she says and if Niall can hear the mockery, he ignores it.

“In exchange for what?” Niall reiterates, even if it’s not necessary, even if he already knows the answer.

“Information.” She has that smile again, as if that explains it all. “Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you’d feel… uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he’s up to.”

She sounds so casual, like she’s just asking Niall if he wants milk with his tea or not and Niall wonders if everything in the world of the one percent is that easy. She has money, anyone can tell. She has also power, Niall has seen it before, the way how those kind of people carry themselves. He has seen it in the army, he has seen it as a doctor and he can see it right now, in front of him with a raised eyebrow and red lips.

And now this woman is trying to use her money to do… what? Hurt Sherlock Holmes?

“Why?” He asks because he wants to know before he walks away.

“I worry about him. Constantly,” she says it so seriously; Niall almost believes her.

“That’s nice of you,”he laughs.

She ignores his jab and keeps talking. “But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern goes unmentioned. We have what you might call a difficult relationship.”

Niall doesn’t have the time to ask if they actually have some kind of relationship or if one of them is obsessed with the other one because that’s what it all looks like at this point. His phone vibrates again before he can even open his mouth and he takes it out of his.

If inconvenient, come anyway. –H.

“No,” he finally answers, still looking at his phone and writing a quick reply.

“But I haven’t mentioned a figure,” she says slightly smirking with a mocking tone in her voice.

"Don't bother," Niall says putting his phone back into his pocket.

She looks at him then and crosses her arms. Niall has seen that look on her face before too. She thinks he's stupid, or too naïve, or something else that could make him weak or a liability. His brother had the same look on his face after Niall left his parents' house to enroll in the army, his general had the look on his face when he joined the field operations as a rescue doctor. At least, he proved one of them wrong.

But the thing is, he doesn’t need to prove anything to this woman. There’s a high possibility he won’t see her again and he’s okay with that. This whole thing has been too odd and he no longer thinks his life or Harry’s are in danger. At least for now. She can certainly do whatever she wants and get away with it, but there’s something in her eyes and in the way she talks that tells Niall that she wouldn’t actually hurt Harry.

Or maybe war hasn’t fucked him up as badly as he thought and he’s still seeing the best in people, especially the worst kind of people.

“You’re very loyal, very quickly.” She sounds surprised and Niall can already see the pity in her eyes and hear the incredulous tone on her voice. She thinks he’s too naïve, then.

“No, I’m not,” he replies, holding his walking stick even tighter in his fist, “I’m just not interested.”

She pulls out her little notebook and Niall has had enough so he turns around and starts walking, leaving whatever the hell this place is and trying to find out how to get to Baker Street.

“Trust issues…says here.” Her voice makes him stop and slowly turn back around.

There's a couple of notes on yellow paper that she took out of the notebook and which she's now holding in her other hand, and he recognizes those too well.

“What’s that?” he asks anyway, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Could it be that you’ve decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of all people?” She frowns, putting the notes back into the notebook and the notebook into her pocket.

Niall doesn’t move from where he’s standing. The place seems to be even more empty than it was seconds before, if that's even possible. Maybe is the way her words seem to be echoing not only in his head but also resonate in his feet, like it hit the walls and fell into the floor. Somehow, she seems bigger from far away; here she's almost a blur of red and black and white. Niall is starting to think he is seeing things.

He doesn’t trust Harry, it’s not like that. He is just amazed by him and how he seems to know what he’s talking about, where he’s going and what to do in the darkest and creepiest scenarios Niall has seen in the city since he came back. And Niall just… follows him. He hears him talk and doesn’t get offended when Harry insults his average intelligence. That’s all he has done so far and for some reason that has concerned a few people.

“Who says I trust him?” Niall says, leaning his head to the side, his eyes resting on where she keeps the small red velvet notebook.

“You don’t seem the kind to make friends easily.” It doesn’t sound like a question. She asks but it doesn’t sound like a question. She knows it which means she has investigated him too and in another lifetime she would be wrong, but Niall is not the same person he was eight years ago, he is barely a shell from that man.

“Are we done?” Niall clears his throat and put his hands into his coat pockets.

“You tell me.” She walks up to him and her steps resonate in the space, making Niall count the distance between them in steps until she stands in front of him, not that far apart, looking as intimidating as the first moment, just a few minutes ago, when Niall saw her in the middle of the room, standing alone with an umbrella and a red lips turning into a smile, “I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that’s not going to happen.”

“My what?” Niall frowns, making his fist tighter in his pocket.

“Show me.” She gets closer and Niall steps back.

“Don’t.” He stops her by putting the walking stick between them.

She raises her hands up to her chest and Niall takes a couple of seconds to calm his breathing before taking his hand out of his pocket and extending it to her.

"Remarkable." She gently touches his hand and looks intensely at his palm, his knuckles, and his bitten nails.

“What is?” he asks, taking his hand from her to put it in his pocket again.

"Most people… blunder around this city and all they see are streets and shops and cars.” She’s not looking at him anymore, she’s walking around with her eyes on the walls, the floor, the metal doors. “When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see a battlefield.” She turns to him then and points at him with her umbrella, “You’ve seen it already. Haven’t you, Niall?”

“What’s wrong with my hand?” he asks again because she seems to know what she’s talking about.

“You have an intermittent tremor in your right hand." Niall nods. He already knows that, his doctors told him that the second he came back, that's not news, but he waits until she's happy enough with the dramatic pause she’s doing as she stands in front of Niall, her face close to his but Niall doesn’t move. “Your therapist thinks its post-traumatic stress disorder.” Niall flinches and he hates the fact that she took him by surprise. “She thinks you’re haunted by memories of your military service.”

“Who the hell are you? How do you know that?” Now it’s him who gets closer but she evades him as easily.

“Fire her.” She smiles at him. “She’s got it the wrong way round. You’re under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady. You’re not haunted by the war, Dr. Watson… You miss it.”

She walks past him to the door behind him, leaving Niall standing alone with his breathing getting faster and memories he’s trying to suppress crashing into him.

“Welcome back.” He hears her voice getting more and more distant. “Time to choose a side, Dr. Watson.” And then, the door closes.

When Niall finally returns to Baker Street, he finds Harry in a robe, lying on his back on top of the old stinky green couch with both hands over his lips and his eyes closed. Niall takes a look around the flat to see it in the same condition he left it in: stacks of paper over the desk against the windows, boxes of files scattered in the floor, and the strange aromas coming from the refrigerator.

Harry doesn’t look harmed or in pain and everything seems to be in its place.

“What’s the inconvenience?" Niall asks, getting out of the coat and hanging it on the coat rack next to the door.

“Can you hand me my notebook?” Harry replies without moving a muscle.

Niall frowns and looks around to see his rose gold laptop resting in the coffee table next to the couch. He could spread his arm and just take it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Harry opens one eye only to see Niall standing in the middle of the living room with both hands on his hips, looking funny with the frown on his face, but his face is starting to get red so Harry closes his eye again until he feels a weight drop on top of his stomach, which briefly takes his breath away. That's going to leave a bruise. He takes his laptop from his abdomen and opens his eyes to access to his mail.

“You made me come here because you wanted me to pass you the stupid laptop? I thought you were in trouble! Or some kind of emergency came up!” Niall speaks loudly, not fully yelling but getting there.

Harry sits up slowly, really looking at Niall instead of the screen for the first time since the latter walked in. He’s been walking in the rain, somewhere outside the city by the mud on his shoes, maybe some abandoned warehouse or storage by the humidity of hair. Harry bites down his smile because he knows exactly what just happened to him.

"I told you to come if it wasn't inconvenient," Harry replies, calmly.

“And then you told me to come if it was inconvenient, anyway!” He’s still mad but not as much as a couple of seconds ago, which is good.

"There's been a breakthrough in the case," Harry says with barely any interest in his tone, "They finally identified the body."

The look on Niall’s face changes completely. He turns to the sofa he has claimed as his as his and sits down to face Harry. "Well, that was fast," Niall says and Harry nods.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and sees a bunch of red notifications coming from the chat bubble with Lestrade’s name on it but he ignores it. If it’s urgent he’d send a mail, Lestrade knows that. Instead he opens the autopsy report to confirm what he already knew the moment he saw the faceless bloody mess in downtown.

“Dylan McKlein,” Harry says.

“McKlein?” Niall asks in disbelieve. “As in the guy that owns a bunch of Biogenetic Laboratories?”

Harry nods again, “More like the son.” He closes the laptop and leaves it on the coffee table to stand up and walk to his room the moment he gets Lestrade’s email asking him to come down to Scotland Yard.

“I met a woman today,” he hears Niall say from the living room, where he’s standing up from the armchair as well.

“Congratulations?” Harry asks, leaving his door open as he takes his black pants and a plaid shirt from his closet.

“Not like that.” Niall enters the room, taking a second to look at Harry changing clothes before clearing his throat. “She offered to pay me to spy on you.”

Harry laughs, putting the pants on and bottoming up the shirt. “Did you accept?”

“No…” Niall doubts, skeptical, offended even.

"Too bad. We could've used the money.” Harry passes him as he walks to the living room to get his coat. He opens the door but stops when he doesn’t hear steps rushing up behind him. “Lestrade need us at the Scotland Yard.”

“I’m wearing the same clothes as yesterday,” Niall offers as an explanation of his temporal inability of movement.

“It’s not my fault you’re too slow at moving in.” Harry takes Niall’s coat from the rack to walk to him and make him put it on arm by arm.

“I haven’t decided if i want to move in yet,” he says, making Harry stop to look him into his eyes.

“We both know you have.”

And with that, Harry disappears through the door frame and down the staircase. Niall follows behind, but not before swearing under his breath.

The place is upside down when they get there. Everyone is running from one side of the room to the other, phones are ringing, and they can see Liam in his office through the glass walls. He’s talking to what seems to be a married couple and their daughter. The man is screaming and Liam is trying to calm them down but it doesn’t look like it’s working. That’s the moment when Harry decides to make his way through the current chaos to get to Lestrade’s office.

And that’s the thing about Harry, it’s the way he moves into the masses, the way he walks with his hands in the pockets of his black coat and the collar up, always with that fake intense look in his eyes and the small smirk he thinks no one sees, the way he never greets anyone but is always aware of every person in the room, the way he provokes people only to get a reaction because he can see underneath the surface; he can tell when someone is lying or the moment they make a decision. Maybe that’s how he knew Niall wanted to move into Baker Street, even before he knew it himself, and somehow he’s okay with it.

When Niall sees the two women start crying and the man holding them both, he tries to grab Harry by the arm to stop him from going into the office because Liam obviously just told them the news about their son but unfortunately he’s not fast enough because Harry is already stepping into the office and he’s right there behind him.

Everyone looks up at them but Harry's expression doesn't change when he makes eye contact with the father, he only starts walking in the room, behind the desk until he stands in front of the big window facing the street. Niall stands awkwardly next to the door ready to leave this place once Harry is ready to go. When he’s done with his thing where he stands in the corner of the rooms to look at people and make deductions only he could make, from facial expressions, tones of voice or even the condition of the clothes.

Niall’s brain can’t quite get it yet but he’s getting used to it.

Liam is explaining how they found their son's body in a room of the house where the party was taking place last night. The cause of death wasn't too hard to guess: several traumatisms to the head with a golf club, according to the autopsy. Lots of blood and no fingerprints, and interestingly enough not one of the over eighty guests on the first floor saw or heard anything. The time of death is somewhere around two and four in the morning. He was found by the owner of the house at six in the morning when he was going to sleep in his bedroom.

He was positioned in a fetal position, bruises on his arms and thighs and his black shirt was missing some buttons from the struggle. Niall examined him when he arrived with Harry that morning, his face was unrecognizable and his fingertips were cut in a half to make the process more difficult and from what Harry said, he wouldn’t have a criminal record to compare DNA, but apparently, he was wrong.

“…We were able to identify him by his hair; he was in the system,” Liam explains as he takes a file from his desk to read the charges.

“What?!” The man takes the file from his hands and starts reading it. “Drunk driving?”

That’s when the young woman starts crying harder, gaining her father’s attention.

“It was my fault,” she sobs. “About two months ago he called around three in the morning to get someone to pick him up from a police station but you were already sleeping so…" Her mother starts rubbing her back and she takes a couple of seconds to breathe, "I just went there and paid the bill, I didn't think about a record, I-"

“It’s okay,” Gregory McKlein says, throwing the file on the desk to kiss his daughter on the forehead instead.

Niall looks down because he feels like he’s intruding on something private, and he is. They shouldn’t be here, at least not now when these people look so vulnerable and in pain. Niall understands pain, he lives with it every day just like everyone else. Happiness is just stolen moments with the abstinence of pain. And maybe even Harry understands that because he starts walking to him, to the door and Niall is already turning his body to leave the office as well when he steps back and points at the daughter.

“When were you adopted?” Everyone goes silent and Niall can’t swallow suddenly.

And this is how the magic of Sherlock Holmes works. The world stops and the time slows down. Niall can see the change almost immediately: the air feels heavier and the breathing gets deeper. He can see the anger building up in people's eyes and knuckles being pressed so hard they turn white. That’s also one of many talents that he has discovered from Harry: he infuriates people, a lot. He makes them angry and scared so he always gets a response. But that’s a thin line and Niall is afraid one day he’s going to overstep it.

He wonders if Harry can hear the peoples' heartbeat just like he seems to actually be able to read minds. Maybe he can and maybe the sound of those thoughts is too loud that it makes him carry their pain too, making him the way he is. The father looks back at Harry and the mother slowly opens her mouth in shock. It feels like Harry just dropped a bomb in the middle of the room and everyone is waiting for it to explode. Niall only hopes for Harry to step back, but he already knows it won’t happen.

“What…?” she whispers and Harry steps closer to her.

“Not as a kid, obviously, you don’t feel completely comfortable around them…so, a teenager?” Harry is looking right in her eyes but the mother puts her arm around her so she steps back and the father stands in front of him instead. "You also have an assembly to the woman, is it… a brother? No, a sister. You’re her sister’s daughter, she’s your aunt.” He smiles, putting both hands in his pockets.

Niall walks in to grab Harry by the arm and out of the room, but he’s not moving.

“Excuse me?” The man yells trying to hold back the tears that are threatening to spill over. “Who are you?”

Harry stands up straight, slowly rising to his full height. He is as tall as the man in front of him and he has that petulant look on his face that Niall is starting to recognize. That’s when Liam steps in, making himself a barrier between the two of them.

“This is Sherlock Holmes and his colleague Dr. John Watson,” Liam clears his throat. “They’re consultants of the Scotland Yard.”

Niall knows this is Liam trying to save himself because ‘how else could two civilians be in the office of the Detective Inspector if they’re not related to a case?’ He shouldn't be surprised by Lestrade's reaction but he is, especially because he doesn't feel really useful following Harry around and giving his opinion on things he doesn't really need an opinion for, plus they have medical examiners that could easily do a better job than Niall, but he wants to be selfish because he wants this job or whatever the hell it is that Harry does. He likes it, he likes the adrenaline running through his veins and the way his brain works under pressure and that he always has a response for anything Harry says and how important this is, even if Harry doesn't see it himself.

He also doesn't miss the little smirk on Harry's face after Liam stands up for him or how he included Niall like they're some kind of package deal now. Niall can see it on his face when he turns to him for a quarter of a second.

We both know you want this.

Niall is starting to hate those green eyes.

“I don’t want them anywhere near this investigation,” the man tells Liam, stabbing his finger on his chest.

Harry starts walking into the room again, with his eyes on the ceiling and his hands inside his pockets.

"But you do," Harry says behind McKlein as he looks at the women sitting on Liam's couch. "If you want to catch your son’s killer, I mean."

McKlein turns to him again. Niall can see the redness of his neck from where he’s standing. He’s furious.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” he says in disbelieve.

That’s when Harry laughs, loudly and rough. “I know you work with bacteria and you probably have the next epidemic, which can easily be used for a biologic attack, freezing under a hundred degrees celsius in one of your laboratories.” The man stands still, almost stepping back and blinking a couple of times. “Oh, you do.”

Harry puts the collar of his coat up and walks to the door.

"Send all the information regarding those projects." He turns to look at McKlein. "I mean all of it: from bank accounts to daily schedules. Don't make me have Watson hack into your services."

And then he walks out of the office, making Niall clear his throat and run after him to catch up.

“You are aware I don’t know how to hack, right?” Niall asks as Harry presses the button to call the lift.

“Of course I am,” Harry says when the lift doors open in front of them. “But he isn’t.”

Niall enters the lift the moment a smile appears on Harry’s face.

“Why do you never introduce yourself as Harry?”

They’re in the living room. Harry is reading the newspaper and Niall has been sitting in the chair for way too long now going through the boxes of files that McKlein sent over to Scotland Yard and writing down names and dates, not knowing exactly what it is Harry’s looking for.

He looks up, bending a piece of the paper to see Niall sitting in front of him. The light comes through the window and falls on Harry’s hair and Niall just remembers they haven’t had breakfast yet. He looks down at the paper in his lap only to not look at Harry right now. He has this lump in the middle of his throat every time Harry does this thing where he looks at him and stops doing whatever he is doing and everything on his face seems to stop moving as well.

And Niall doesn't understand it. He doesn't know why he feels this need of moving his hands to distract him from looking at his face or why his neck feels warmer or his feet start taping the floor or why his mouth feels dry and his heart starts beating a bit faster, so he ignores it.

“I don’t use that name very often.” He returns to his reading as if that heavy moment didn't even happen.

“Then, why did you ask me to call you that?” Niall doesn’t know where that question came from but now he needs to know the answer.

“I like how it sounds when you say it,” he says, turning to the next page and reading the title.

Niall goes quiet. He dares to look at him for just a second, at his profile illuminated but the light coming from the window, his fingers holding the paper and his crossed legs as he sits even further in the chair.

“Do you like an Irish accent?” Niall laughs, dropping one file to the floor and picking another one from the top of the box next to him.

"No," Harry answers, looking at him again. "I like yours."

Niall opens the mouth to say another joke that would make him stop feeling so conscious about himself or so aware of Harry’s presence so close to him when Ms. Hudson walks in holding a plate with two cups of tea, sugar, and milk, so he only clears his throat and stands up to help her clear the tea table next to Harry. He drops the bunch of files that he hasn’t touch yet to the floor next to his feet and put the mugs on the table as Ms. Hudson walks downstairs again.

Harry is a quiet person, the reflexive type. He stands or sits in one place for as long as he needs for his brain to navigate that giant web of his, connecting ideas and places and remembering dates or names as if time would wait for him. Niall’s a lucky person; he doesn't know Harry that well but he doubts there's anyone on this earth that confidently could say they know Sherlock Holmes. Niall highly doubts anyone else knows he's also named Harry.

Then, why him? Why would Harry tell him these parts of his life? Why does he feel so strange around him but Harry seems so unbothered? Why does Niall feel like that he can see the man behind the façade he portraits? They haven't spent much time together, they haven’t even talked a lot but somehow Niall knows exactly what Harry means by a look or a single phrase, and it’s funny because Niall has met a lot of people in the course of his life, but hasn't understood anyone the way he gets Harry.

So, when Niall sees he's taking too long reading just one page, he turns to look at the files next to his feet and he realizes it's already ten in the morning and Harry's still in his silky pajamas.

“Why haven’t you picked up a single box since Lestrade came to drop these?” Niall asks, putting sugar and milk in his cup of tea.

“Because the answer is not in any of those boxes," Harry answers, finally turning the page. Niall points at the sugar and he shakes his head, so he takes his cup and walks to the chair to sit.

“What do you mean?” Niall takes a sip, it’s still a bit hot but it’s good enough for Niall to put up with.

“He wasn’t killed because of some bacteria.” Harry finally gives up with the newspaper and throws it somewhere behind him, “He was killed by revenge, poetic justice, call it whatever you want.” He stands up and stretches in front of the chimney.

“Anyone of these people could’ve wanted revenge,” Niall says, as he walks up to Harry. He leaves his unfinished cup on the top of the chimney to pick up a file he left in the important pile at his right. “Fired scientists, accountants, even his partner,” Niall notes, handing him the file.

"He wasn't killed because of his father," Harry responds, ignoring Niall completely as he starts walking into the room. Niall follows his movements with his eyes.

“Then, why did you ask for all of this?” he asks when Harry finally stops in front of that yellow smiley face drawn in the wall with three bullet holes in it.

Harry gets bored easily.

“To distract them,” he answers as he turns to face Niall, using that condescending tone of his, as if that was a well-known fact by everyone. “False sense of security,” he explains, after looking at Niall for a bit too long.

Distract them from what? Finding the real killer of their son? Why would Harry want that, if not -?

“You think his father did it?” Niall says, slowly approaching Harry and standing next to him in front of the wall.

It's empty now but Niall doubts that will be its state for too long. When he first got in the flat the wall was covered in pictures, newspaper and web articles, and they were connected by red threads going from one side of the wall to the other. Harry was in the middle of solving this huge case that took him a week, he barely ate or slept according to Ms. Hudson and Niall only came at the end of it, he wasn't of much help even if Harry told him his "contributions were quite fruitful".

“No.” He touches his chin as if he’s thinking about how to put out another criminal collage on his wall.

“Then who?” Niall asks turning his body to look at Harry’s profile.

“I don’t know yet,” he answers as if it wasn't a big deal like they ran out of milk and he has to go and get some eventually.

Niall wishes he wouldn’t have to look at Harry in disbelief that often, but he does because Harry doesn’t tell him what’s on his mind at any moment. He just tells him what he wants him to do or say when it’s necessary, and apparently this wasn’t one of those times.

"Wait," Niall says looking around him to the pile of unopened boxes and the already read files near his chair that he spent all day yesterday going through. "Why did I go through those boxes if there's nothing of value there?!"

"I didn't ask you to do that," Harry answers, looking at Niall as if he lost his mind. "You picked them up and started reading the files."

“Why didn’t you tell me to stop?” he asks again, trying to remain calm and not think about the zero sleep he got last night.

“Why would I do that?” Harry looks at him in bewilderment. “We’re waiting for Lestrade to call me about the friends anyway.” Weirdly enough, Harry’s phone rings right before Niall can ask for an explanation. Harry answers his phone, nods a couple of times and then he goes to his room to change. The next thing he knows, Harry is throwing him his coat and they're stepping out of Baker Street.

There are five kids sitting outside Lestrade's office when they get to Scotland Yard. They're young, around the age of the deceased and they seem to be scared. Niall has seen a lot of scared people in the last few years, he has seen the terror in faces and has heard the tears in someone's voice. These three women and two young men are a perfect example: two of the girls are crying but every single one of them seems to be trembling. They're looking at the lights above their heads, the floor, the rest of the officers, anything but each other.

Harry walks pass them not giving them a second look as he enters Liam’s office. He’s standing next to his desk and talking to someone on the phone when they step in. He points to the couch when he sees them and Niall goes to sit down but Harry stands right in front of Liam, separated only by the desk between them, and waits.

“Are they confessing?” Niall asks when Liam hangs up.

"No, but their lawyers are on their way, so if we want a confession we have to act fast," Liam says, looking outside his office and making eye contact with one of his officers, nodding at the interrogation room.

“You won’t get a confession,” Harry laughs, “Don’t be ridiculous, Lestrade.”

The officer approaches the kids sitting outside the office and guides them to the interrogation room.

“What do you mean?” Liam asks, checking his phone one last time but Harry doesn’t answer. Liam seems to be used to it because he just sighs before stepping out of the office with Harry and Niall walking behind him.

“So, let me get this straight…” Liam says slowly, “You found the body, got scared, left the party and burned your clothes with his blood on it and possibly evidence?”

The girl starts crying again, hysterically. Liam is really trying to conduct the interrogation to get something helpful but he’s getting nowhere. Harry and Niall are watching from a different, smaller room which is separated from the interrogation room through a one-way mirror.

The shaky blonde girl in front of them is called Shelly and she is the girlfriend of the deceased. Liam decided to interview every single one of them by himself, so the rest of the group is waiting outside. The girl was the first to find the body but she didn’t call an ambulance and if Niall has to be honest, he doesn’t understand why she would come here and incriminate herself. Eventually Harry would’ve found out about it, he already knew about some “friends” but the girl in front of them makes no sense.

She found the body, got covered in blood and stayed in the bedroom until her friends found her holding the deceased’s body and they all fled the scene without leaving any trace? And without being seen? Something is off and Niall can see Harry thinks the same by the way he frowns as he looks through the window. Maybe he’s trying to catch something in Shelly’s eyes, her trembling hands or her swallowing throat. Niall doesn’t know, the only thing he knows is that Harry is up to something.

“We had a fight earlier that day,” she says and it’s already looking bad for her. “He was supposed to pick me up from the dorms to go to the party but since we don’t talk when we fight I went on my own.” She breathes in a couple of times and Liam writes something down in his little notebook.

She takes a sip from the glass of water on the table. Her hands are not trembling like before but her face is still red from the crying and her blond hair is all over the place. Her eyes look like they were injected with some kind of substance and Niall almost feels sorry for her. She starts looking around her and Liam lets her for just a minute before clearing up his throat but it almost seems like it’s not necessary since she already has an answer on the tip her tongue.

“I saw him a couple of times on the party but I wanted him to come to me,” she’s looking at the door frame with lost eyes and an empty expression, “he never did, so when I saw he was going upstairs I thought he was going to screw some girl and I followed him. I lost him for a minute but when I finally found him, he-,” her eyes start watering again and Liam nods.

Liam pulls out the photos from the crime scene from the file over the table and puts them in front of her. She gasps and touches the picture with the body of Dylan McKlein.

“That’s how you found him?” Liam asks, as he buys her testimony.

She looks at Liam, confused and then she looks at the pictures again, pulling them closer to her and putting it in some kind of order as if she was drawing the room. Niall can’t see exactly what it is she’s doing from that side of the room but he can see her shaking her head.

“I never turned the lights on but he was lying on the bed,” she says, picking up two photographs. “he was lying on his stomach and I turned him over,” she sighs, “then I saw his face-,”

She sounds hurt but it’s not like in the beginning of the interrogation. She sounds concerned and methodic now and the tone of her voice is delicate as if her throat is sore but Niall can see it in her eyes now, he can see it in the way her fingers move all over the pictures trying to give one bit of sense of everything that’s going on, she wants to talk.

“The bedsheets-,” she puts the imagine of the empty and clean bed over the table and looks at it, in shock. “It was all covered in blood, I don’t-”

“Why didn’t you call an ambulance? The police?” Liam asks, taking the pictures from her hands.

She puts her head in her hands, her eyes still glued to the table where the pictures were a second ago. “I was scared, and then Oliver-,”

“Don’t say another word!” In that exact moment the door opens and everyone inside looks up to find a woman in a gray suit holding a briefcase. “I’m her lawyer,” she says looking at Shelly. “And you’re conducting a witness declaration in an interrogation room, detective inspector Lestrade.”

The wall is covered again. Photographs of the five friends in strategic points with their names on top top of their faces and Harry’s standing in front of it, looking for answers as the video of their interrogations play behind him on his laptop as a background noise. It’s been almost twenty hours since they’ve been in the flat after Lestrade’s call and neither of them have eaten, slept or showered.

Niall is tired and his vision is starting to get blurry every time he looks up to see the same five photos of the same five faces they have seen for twenty hours. He just wants to go to bed and call it a day but Harry hasn’t moved in two hours and Niall is worried he’s going to spend what’s left of the day in the same spot. So he stands up from the chair and walks up to Harry until he’s standing next to him.

“Isn’t it fascinating, Niall?” His voice is so filled up with emotion and it makes Niall slowly turn to see his face.

He’s smiling so big, just like a kid on Christmas morning about to open a pile of presents. His hands are in the pockets of his pants and he’s bouncing on his toes like he has pure excitement running though his veins.

“The board has never been so empty and yet so full of possibilities,” he says, his eyes going from one photo to the other.

“You do realize that it’s actually a wall, right?” Niall prefers to distract himself from the fact that Harry seems quite pleased at the moment. “It’s the main wall in our living room,” Niall repeats himself, turning his body entirely to face Harry, catching the way the smile on his face changes at his words.

“Our living room?” Harry asks, softly and for a second he looks like a normal thirty-something year old man wearing a robe in the morning, making Niall speechless.

“Why are you so surprised?” Niall says looking at the wall and ignoring the red of his own cheeks and the overwhelming feeling of Harry’s eyes on his face. “I already accepted living here.”

Harry laughs for what seems like the first time since Niall has met him. The sound is deep, coming from the back of his throat and released to the world in a light way, it’s captivating and that scares the shit out of Niall because he has never felt this way for a man before. He’s not stupid, he can recognize the itch on the tip of his fingers or the warm behind his neck, he’s familiar with the numb noise of his ears every time he talks or walks in the room, he has felt it before, but never for someone like Harry.

He doesn’t know what to do with this new information so he walks to the kitchen even though he knows there’s nothing that he could eat as breakfast, or any kind of meal if he has to be honest. Niall can hear Harry in the living room behind him, moving from one side to the other and talking to himself louder than he actually thinks.

It’s not the first time these kind of thoughts appeared on his mind, but that’s all they were, thoughts. It’s different now, the way he feels about Harry is just a confirmation of what he’s been knowing for a long time, and it feels great, it’s terrifying but it’s good. Liberating in some way. So when Niall comes back to the living room with two cups of tea he can’t help but smile at him.

“Why do you look so pleased?” Harry asks when he receives the cup of tea. “It’s like you already know where we’re going next.”

Niall laughs as he sits in the chair next to Harry’s and takes a sip. “Well, I don’t.”

“But I do,” Harry replies, lifting on eyebrow as he drinks the tea.

“Why are we here again?” Niall asks as he crawls down following Harry.

There are guards behind the building so he understands the need to not be seen. What he doesn’t understand on the other hand is why Harry had to wait till it was midnight to come to the university campus or why he didn’t just talk to Liam and ask for a warrant. Harry stands up facing the Dean’s office window, takes something from his pocket and forces the bolt until it finally opens. He looks around and steps in.

“Harry!” Niall whispers but he’s already inside, his flashlight pointing to different sections of the room, catching glances of everything.

Niall gives up and enters the room to find Harry sitting at the desk, turning the computer on.

“What are you doing?” He approaches, but Harry doesn’t answer, his eyes flicking across the screen and his fingers clicking non-stop are enough for Niall to know where his attention is.

Niall walks up to him to catch a look at the screen. For someone who understands so much about the world and interactions and deductions, Harry seems so oblivious to the simplest things.

“It needs a password, Harry,” Niall whispers into his ear, looking at the door in front of them, feeling that someone could find them at any second.

“A password, of course!” Harry whispers back and hands him the flashlight. “Show me the office.”

It takes him a second to understand what he needs but when he finally gets it he starts to point the flashlight to different parts of the room for Harry to see. After a couple of glances Harry sits down and writes a password. Niall doesn’t even ask when he guesses it right.

Niall sees him looking at the desktop, opening file after file until he finds, apparently, what he’s been looking for: Student Records.

“You are aware that Liam has the friends’ records, right?” he says to Harry when he sees him type the names only to find the same faces they have hanging on their wall.

“Not the ones I want,” Harry answers, printing page after page and making Niall more anxious than he ever thought he could be. And he’s been in war.

“Their first year? Why would you want the record of their first year?” Niall asks, confused.

But Harry can’t answer because he only has time to turn the monitor off and drag Niall under the desk when the door opens. Harry is calm, Niall can see it in his face just a couple of inches apart from his as he tries to control his own breathing. They’re close, too close to be comfortable but the guard is still in the room and his flashlight is searching the office.

Niall can feel Harry breathing on his neck and his hand on his waist keeping him from moving and for once, Niall is pretty grateful for the fact that he was so scared he closed the window after stepping into the office. It’s pretty quiet apart from the guard’s steps as he wanders through the room but Niall can swear the three of them can hear his heartbeat, going faster and faster, especially when Harry starts moving, like he’s trying to stand up. Niall takes his wrist to stop him the exact moment the guard closes the door.

Harry takes the pages and turns the computer off before taking Niall’s hand in his and leaving the Dean’s office.

It’s been two days and Liam’s stressed. Niall can understand the reason why. He has father come in every single day, yell at him, throw a few things at the wall, call him inept and then he leaves. That’s not a good environment for any kind of progress, especially if Liam’s board looks even close to as messy as Harry’s wall. The same photos, the same red string and the same interrogation points over faces, places, times and names.

The friends are not saying anything different from their first deposition. The same words and emotions on their faces as they recite the facts over and over again: The girlfriend, Shelly Reagan, found the body at around two in morning, and somehow, managed to not scream or move until Oliver Allister casually walked into the same room and found her holding Dylan’s head in her lap and then he contacted Isaac O’connor and Nina Maccioli, who finally called Audrey Scallo. Anc they did all of that without calling any attention to them. It’s almost like it was rehearsed, but the expression on their eyes when they tell it, when the explain the same details over and over again is not, Niall can see it through the glass, they’re in pain, they’re hurt and they all loved Dylan in their own way.

“Someone is here for the McKlein case, Sir.” A head pops into the office, making Liam turn to the detective’s voice. “A girl saying she’s been seeing Dylan for over three months.”

“He was cheating on her!” Liam immediately stand up and runs to the board with a red marker and circles the girlfriend’s face and connects it to the crime scene. “Everything about the crime scene… it was personal.” His eyes are shining with excitement, feeling like the case is finally being solved.

Liam’s whispering to himself before he picks up a file and follows the detective to the interrogation room. The room is left in silence, no one else moving, just the sound of breathing and maybe Harry’s brain doing his thing if Niall focuses enough. The thing is, he hasn’t said a word since they came into the office and Niall is a bit worried if he has to be honest. He doesn’t know what to expect when it comes to Harry, he never knows what’s he’s going to do or what he’s thinking of, let alone the reason for anything he does. He’s getting used to it, yes, but the feeling that he has to be alert and ready for anything at all times, that stills pretty fresh in the back of his head.

Niall is ready to go after Lestrade and the other detective when he notices Harry’s still sitting on the couch with no intentions of moving, which he finds odd. Harry is not the calm, sitting-in-one-spot kind of guy, not when he has a case between his fingers. But seeing him in that moment...it almost seems like he’s resting, sleeping with his eyes open even.

He hasn’t say much after they came back from the dean’s office and he hasn’t told him about the importance of the records he printed either. It’s not hanging on the wall or written down on notes connecting the dots. It’s just sitting over there on a table, almost like it’s mocking them.

“You don’t want to hear the interrogation?” Niall asks, surprised after hearing nothing but silence from Harry.

“Oh no, Liam is right, he was cheating on her,” he answers, absolutely calm, crossing his legs and placing his hands over his knees. “The girl wasn’t wearing the gold necklace she owns in several pictures shared on social media accounts from the night of the murder. At first I thought she lost it in when she found the body, but apparently she wasn’t wearing it for over two months at that point. She also didn’t dye her hair or get a manicure lately. She doesn’t look like someone who would be that negligent about herself, except when she didn’t see a point to it or even forgot about it because something else was occupying her mind.”

“You knew?” Niall asks in shock. “And you didn’t say anything?”

Is this the reason why they went to the university in the middle of the night? How did he find out? Niall has noticed, he’s not dumb, that Liam technically gives Harry everything that he wants or needs for the investigation. He’s also witnessed him ignore Harry’s insults and disobedience, and the only reason Niall guesses he allows it is because there’s no one else who can do what Harry can.

But keeping this kind of information from him? He’s not that sure anymore Harry deserves Liam’s trust.

“Lestrade doesn’t like my deductions without hard proof,” Harry answers as if he heard Niall’s thoughts. “I prefer to save my patience to explain simple things for you only.”

And there it is, the sarcasm and the satire on his voice, like he physically needs to remind everyone, everywhere that he is the smartest person in the room.

“Liam is not gonna like this,” Niall says, choosing to ignore Harry’s previous comment.

“Who?” Harry asks, genuinely confused by the expression on his face.

Niall stops to look Harry directly in the eyes, trying to ask questions he doesn’t want Harry to answer out loud.

“Liam?” Niall says in return, pointing at the door where Liam’s name is written. “Lestrade?”

“Don’t you mean Leonard?” Harry answers.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

Harry shrugs and Niall opens his mouth to call him out but by the way he turns his entire body to face the whiteboard again he realizes it may not even matter. If Harry hasn’t learned his name after all those years, how would Niall be able to change that? It’s not that Niall doesn’t think Harry can change or improve, it just seems that no one around him has actual faith in it.

Niall sees Liam walking out of the interrogation room with a pleased expression on his face, looking like he just solved the entire case.

“The girlfriend didn’t do it.”

It’s the first thing Harry says the moment Liam steps into the office, slowly erasing the smile he just had on his face but the moment of sadness is replaced with an expression that Niall’s grown used to seeing on Liam’s face when Harry is involved: tiredness.

“Not right now, Holmes. I have a solid case.” Liam walks pass Harry to his desk and sits, leaving the file in front of him.

“You are better than that, Lestrade,” Harry says, approaching Liam from the other side of the office. “Some random girl saying she had kind of a relationship with McKlein wouldn’t be enough for you to consider a crime of passion.” He rests both of his hands on top of the desk in front of Liam.

Liam leans back, putting his hand on the back of his head and letting all the air inside his lungs out. He truly looks tired and Niall assumes Harry has a lot to do with it.

“How do you explain the letter, then?” Liam asks.

Harry steps backs like he’s counting his steps, slowly and carefully. His hands are somehow still in front of him but now they’re just floating in the air. It’d almost be comical, the way he looks right now, if it wasn’t for the expression on his face, one Niall hasn’t seen before and, going by his reaction, Liam hasn’t either.

“A letter?” He sounds surprised. “What letter?” Harry didn’t see that coming.

“She said she found it this morning under her door at the dorms,” Liam says looking at the letter over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry has the protocoled gloves on his hands as he examines the letter. It’s a white and thick paper that’s used for formal letters or invitations. It was written on a typewriter and is dated from three years ago. it doesn’t say much but the message is clear and scared its recipient enough to come through.

May, 2016:

Go to the police. Tell them about Dylan.

-S.

The lab is quiet, mainly due to Harry yelling at the scientists earlier who were working on the small piece of paper before he could get his hands on it. After twenty-five minutes, he had three conclusions.

One.

This comes from someone who knew about the relationship between Jessica Stanley and Dylan McKlein. Someone other than his girlfriend, which Harry is certain about. This person managed to get the note to Jessica without being noticed. They know Jessica’s schedule and location of her dorm room. They also waited a couple of days, maybe realizing Jessica wasn’t going to come out with the truth by herself.

Two.

They didn’t just leave a letter. There was something else attached to the letter according to the light marks left on the back of the paper once the envelope was held against a light source. Harry believes Jessica took it and kept it. Harry also thinks he needs to see it.

And three.

The paper is from 2016. The letter isn’t just dated as 2016 but it was also written three years before the crime actually happened and it was kept to be send just now.

“How could you possibly know that?” Niall questions, putting his hands in his coat pockets trying to battle the cold wind of London.

They left the lab and the station after Harry announced his three conclusions and then walked out of the room without saying anything else to Liam, just waiting for Niall to follow him to start talking. Niall could still hear Liam calling for their names, asking about the conclusions.

“There’s a recognized printing company in downtown London called ‘The House of Caxton’.” Harry stands at the edge of the street with an extended arm, waving his hand to stop a taxi. “They celebrated their 100th anniversary in 2016 by selling a very limited edition of a certain presentation-card type of paper,”

A black cab stops in front of them and Harry opens the door for Niall. He stands still for a couple a second, looking at Harry without knowing exactly how to react so he just laughs and gets in the car, watching Harry do the same until he’s finally sitting next to him.

“So, let me guess,” Niall says, trying to imitate his voice and the tone he always uses when he’s making deductions, like it should be obvious for everyone. “That letter’s paper is part of that package,” he says as he hears the car’s door closing.

“It was in the market for only three months.” Harry looks Niall directly in the eyes, looking directly at his eyes, but he’s not only explaining him a fact, he’s sharing information.

And that’s when it hits him.

Harry trusts him. Definitely more than he trusts Liam or any other detective. He thinks of Niall as an equal, even if he won’t ever admit it. Harry Holmes, this impossible man and unapproachable human sees Niall Watson as a peer even though he’s only known him for a few days. He nods his head at him, almost like reassuring him about his new discoveries, then he turns his head to the driver.

“To Caxton’s printing, please.”

Coming back to Baker Street after their failure at the printer was irritating Harry terribly. Niall knows he’s an incredibly smart man, Harry understands the world in a way Niall has never witnessed before, he sees people and streets and interactions as maps and clues, he sees the world as an empty space that only needs his senses to be filled and solved, but when it comes to basic facts like memory cards, Harry can be a little dense.

“How could they not keep the footage?!”

Harry waits till Niall opens the door to storm in, fighting his way out of the coat to hang it in the hallway and then stalk the stairs upstairs.

“It’s been three years, Harry. They delete everything every six months.”

“That makes no sense!” Harry flops down on the couch and covers his face with his hands.

Niall closes the door behind him and sits in the chair next to him. Now is his turn to be patient, to explain things to Harry.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so upset.” Harry takes his hands off his face to look at him. “. “The chances of us finding the person who bought the package were really low. It could’ve been a gift or something they found and decided to use to throw the police off. We don’t even know if the letter it’s from the killer…”

He was still talking but it takes Harry just one second to stand up and grab Niall’s face on both hands, pulling their faces dangerously close, almost breathing over his lips and then he whispers.

“Oh, but it is, Niall,” he whispers urgently. “It is from them.” He smiles and takes the hair out of Niall’s eyes, slowly, gently and Niall wonders if he’s going to kiss his forehead. “They’re smart. They have planned this for a long time.”

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t kiss Niall or stay like that for another second. Instead, he lets his face go and walks to his room with a red face, leaving Niall and his traitorous heart all alone.

The music is loud, the lights bright, and the heat almost unbearable. The place is crowded and they were standing in the entrance, not really sure if they should go in. Niall doesn’t know if he should be here, he hasn’t spoken to his therapist about coming to places like this yet, but to be honest, he hasn’t spoken to his therapist since he met that woman. The flashes and the sounds are making him uncomfortable, like something is crawling down his skin and he’s just getting ready to be jumped.

When Harry said they were going out that night, he never imagined a gay bar. It’s not like he has never been to one before, he just didn’t think Harry has. But then again, Harry doesn’t really talk about his personal life or his preferences, the way he spends his free time.

“Um, Harry?” But he’s already walking into the bar, avoiding to bump into people like an expert, fast and focuses like he has a goal. Niall has no other option but to follow him. When he finally catches up, he sees something he never thought he’d see: Harry, laughing, and charming the bartender, with wrinkles around his eyes and that beautiful big smile on display. He can even see his front teeth.

“Oh, here he is.” Harry smiles at him when Niall arrives and, to Niall’s further surprise, takes his hand on his. “This is Nate, my boyfriend.”

Niall is positive that if he had a drink in his hand, the glass would have hit the floor the moment Harry said those words.

“We’ve been spending some time in Ireland with Nate’s family but we’re finally back home,” Harry laughs and the bartender smile at them, touching both of their arms.

“So everything went okay?” He asks like he’s an old friend of them and Niall has never been more confused.

“Of course! They loved me,” Harry says, looking at Niall. “Didn’t they, pet?”

“Yeah…” Niall says, exhaling the words as he looks deep into Harry’s green eyes. “How could you not love this face?” He finally relaxes and takes Harry’s chin between his finger to shake his face softly.

They share an intense moment of eye contact before Harry clears his throat and turns back to the bartender. “We’ve been trying to get in touch with our friend?” Harry says, recovering from the awkward silence. “Isaac and Dylan? They always tell us about this place.”

Niall tries to maintain a blank face but he’s as surprises as the bartender at Harry’s words.

“I didn’t know they have friends who knew about them,” the man in front of them whispers.

“Not many do.” Harry smiles, intertwining their hands before putting them hands on top of the bar. “But we haven’t talked in a few months and we miss them.”

“The last thing I know is that they had a huge fight.” The bartender leans over the bar, closer to them to talk lower, like the music in the place wouldn’t keep people from hearing their conversation. “Apparently, Dylan’s girlfriend was getting suspicious about him cheating.”

“Oh, no.” Harry says. “Maybe we’ll go see them at Isaac’s dorm.”

“Wait,” he says, standing up again and growing a few inches. “Why don’t you try calling them?”

“That’s a fantastic idea…” Harry smiles back at him and points to the name written on the label on his chest. “Brian. Thank you.”

He doesn’t have time to reply because Harry is taking them both out of there, dragging Niall through the dance floor and pushing people away. Niall starts to get out of breath and really feel the lack of space and the amount of people around them. He’s not feeling good but it’s almost like Harry knows by the way he’s walking.

It’s when they stand outside the club when Harry lets Niall’s hand go to let him breathe. His head is palpitating and his hand is on his chest, to help him calm down. Niall can see Harry’s shoes in front of him and he wonders if he thinks Niall’s weak. A claustrophobic boy joining the army. But when he feels his hand rubbing his back, he knows he doesn’t.

“Breathe.” he hears him say into his ear, and he does. Slowly and calm as he feels the air cold on his cheeks and the warmth of Harry’s hand on this back.

Harry straightens him up and turns him into the lights of the club’s sign to have a better look at his face.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, returning to his usual tone of voice. His face is void of the smile from earlier and the spark in his eyes. He looks worried.

“How did you know?” Niall asks instead, starting to breathe normally again.

“I knew the moment you walked into 221 B, looking at the windows and the doors. Counting your steps from one room to the other.” He sounds like the mere question offends him. And maybe Niall should’ve known that before.

“And yet, you brought me here,” Niall says, turning his face to the side.

“I needed you.” Harry’s hands are still over his shoulder and his voice is still tender, like he’s afraid Niall’s going to break any second now.

They look at each other, even when Niall tells himself he’s looking at the wall behind Harry and Harry is just looking at the cars passing by or the people walking to the bar. Would it matter to him? If someone sees them there? He doesn’t seem to be the person who cares about what other people say, but somehow this seems different. It’s too personal.

“So…” Niall says, kicking the little rocks by his feet. “Dylan was gay.”

Harry shakes his head, without taking his hands off Niall as if they’re used to have this kind of conversations. “Isaac is. Dylan just comes here with him. I just need to know why.”

Harry catches something behind Niall and he is about to turn his head when Harry’s hands come up to hold his face straight. Harry’s grip tightens as he gets closer, looking Niall straight in the eyes.

“I want you to know I’m doing this because it’s entirely necessary,” Harry says, slowly pushing Niall against the wall to their left.

“I understand, Harry,” Niall says, getting slightly more and more confused.

“It’s what the situation demands. I’m being professional. We’re working right now.” And that’s when Harry stops making sense.

“What?” Niall whispers but the sound is robbed from his lips.

Harry is not being professional; this is not professional. The way he’s kissing him is not the way you kiss a co-worker. The way he has Niall trapped between the wall and his body, almost covering him entirely. The way his hands move from his back to his sides. The way his lips feel on his. Nothing about this is professional. It’s rough and fast. He can feel the tip of his nose on his cheek and his fingertips on the back of his neck, so he does the only thing he can do in this moment. He kisses him back.

He grabs the flaps of his coat and pulls him closer. He has kissed a good amount of girls before, but he has never felt this way and it’s overwhelming. Harry’s body is touching his from knees to chest, his cheeks feel red and hot and his hands seem to be useless right now. And when he opens his mouth and Harry makes that sound, Niall regrets every second they wasted not kissing each other since he walked into that apartment on Baker Street.

Niall doesn’t know how they kiss last after that, but it’s not enough. Harry is breathing heavily against his cheek, his forehead resting against his, and his hand extended on the wall next to his head. Niall has his hands on his hips and he’s trying to bite down the smile growing on his face.

“Isaac,” he whispers on his ear.

“What?” Niall turns his head just a little to catch a glance at Harry’s profile. His lips are open and more red than they regularly are, his eyes are closed and the hand on his waist is not gone.

“He was walking into the club,” he explains and Niall’s hand drop to his sides. “He saw us in Liam’s office. I didn’t-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Niall nods, stepping aside and leaving Harry in the same position he was just a couple of seconds before but now Niall is not between him and the wall anymore. “I remember.” Niall clears his throat. “We should get going.”

The Lestrade’s case is going nowhere. Liam tried to charge Shelly but she got a good lawyer who’s slowly breaking Liam’s theory down, exactly how Harry predicted she would. Dylan’s sister went twice more into the station to testify but they found nothing other than circumstantial evidence against the girlfriend and the rest of the friends. On the other hand, Harry’s been busy. Not only trying to avoid Niall but taking everything from his wall, only leaving a single red line pointing to their door.

Niall is standing behind Harry, looking at the empty wall and drinking his morning tea. He has been rejected a couple of times before and he has learned to make peace with the numb feeling in the middle of his chest, even if he has to live with the reason his ears go red and his pulse quickens every time he sees him. Harry’s been trying to keep the conversation level at minimum, which is difficult to him when he has all these ideas he wants to share and be praised for, so Niall laughs every time he struggles and listens like the good friend he knows he is.

It was just a kiss. It doesn’t matter how much it changed him. Harry doesn’t feel the same way, he’s a grown man, he can deal with that.

He’s now putting up the photos of the friends again, but this time one by one, some pictures next to the other two letters that were sent a few weeks ago to Liam’s office.

The situation was perfect for Harry. He had an excuse to spend entire days in the lab only to examined the letter, finding no DNA or anything that could be helpful in any way to find the killer. Harry is getting frustrated, not only because of the letter but, apparently, all of them, the five friends, had a reason to kill Dylan McKlein. His entire life was falling apart the last two weeks before his murder: Shelly found out about his affair, he didn’t get the money he promised to Oliver for his mum’s surgery, he took Nina’s opportunity of having her dream job thanks to his father’s connections, he threatened to expose Isaac sexuality to the football team and his family and he almost destroyed Audrey’s career.

All problems which were all solved after he died.

“Is it a timeline?” Niall asks, finishing his toast and taking the last sip of his tea.

Harry nods while hanging more papers on the wall until he gets to the day of the murder.

“That’s why you needed the student records,” he says, more to himself than to Harry. “Is that the time each one of them met Dylan?” Niall points at the pictures in order and Harry nods again.

“There’s something I’m not seeing.” Harry backs up and stands next to Niall and that’s the closer they’ve been in three weeks.

“Like a hidden message?” Niall asks and Harry once more. “Something like the dates in the letters or how it’s always signed with a different initial?”

Everything stops until it all starts working again. Harry’s eyes open wide and he runs to the desk for a paper and a pen.

“The names and the dates,” Harry says, frantically writing on the paper. “How couldn’t I see it before?!” he takes a red marker and circles the first letter of every name: Shelly, Oliver, Nina, Isaac and Audrey, according to Harry’s timeline.

He throws away the red marker and find a blue one and then, he does the same thing with the last names.

When he’s done, one name is written in Harry’s paper.

Sonia Morales.

Every initial of every name and every initial of every last name lined up in front of them.

“Sonia Morales?” Niall repeats. “Is that a suspect?”

“I’ve heard that name before.”

Harry freezes for a second, thinking. The next thing he does is smile, so big it brings Niall back to the day at the bar, just like the kiss Harry plants on his lips before he’s disappearing through the door.

“You are a genius, Niall!” He can hear Harry’s reached the bottom floor already as he’s still frozen on the same spot Harry kissed him a few moments ago. “Call Lestrade! Tell him we solved the case!”

The door opens and the noise of London invades their apartment.

“Tell him we will be needing a helicopter, too!” Harry says and Niall can almost hear him smile, “The game is on.” And then, he closes the door.

The noise coming from the motor blade is loud but Harry is yelling over it and trying his best to explain his deductions to both Liam and Niall sitting in front of him before they get to some town, with a name he can’t be bothered to remember, forty-five minutes from London.

Harry told Niall he read about this case, but he was in a bad place at that time and wouldn’t have been of much help. Niall is itching to ask about it, but now wasn’t the time

Sonia Morales was a Brazilian nineteen-year-old golfer. She was found in a lake six years ago and according to the necropsy she suffered from sexual assault and then suffocation which ultimately killed her. It made it to the news because some kids found her one morning and they thought she was a ghost due to the white dress she was wearing as well as her long black hair. She had not family or friends in the country other than her manager since she came to London that summer to compete in a golf tournament and find herself some sponsors. And she did, at the Club Gala the last night of the tournament: The McKleins.

The body was too wet and wrinkled to find out the exact date of her death or any DNA from her killer.

“You think Dylan abused her and killed her?” Niall screams through the intercom. “At what? 17?”

“And someone saw it,” Harry nods. “And they died for it.”

The helicopter lands on the golf course and Harry runs to the cabin near the seventh hole with Liam and Niall at his side and a bunch of policemen following behind them, but when Liam takes down the door all they find is a body lying on a chair with a bullet hole on his head, holding a bloody golf club in one hand and a gun in the other.

“That’s Sonia’s father,” Liam says behind them, putting back his gun into its holster.

Niall knew the wounds in Dylan’s head would match the end of the golf club, he had studied those photographs enough to be able to draw them himself. When they get back, they find Dylan’s family in Liam’s office. They all stand up the moment the three of them walk in. Both women have red eyes again, evidence that they’ve been crying, and Gregory McKlein walks up to Harry, extending his hand him. “You said you’ll catch his killer. Thank you.” Harry takes his hand and shakes it.

“You said you’ll catch his killer.” Harry extended his hand and shake it. “Thank you.”

“I caught more than that,” Harry says, putting his hand back into his pocket. He walks over to the window and sighs. “Does the name ‘Sonia Morales’ ring a bell to you?” Harry turns to look at them and Niall can see how the couple turns to each other, physically jumping.

“No,” he says, firmly.

“Let me refresh your memory then,” Harry smiles. “She was the last golfer you were going to sponsor before you moved to London, but you found your son abusing her and trying to shut her up with a pillow over her head until she wasn’t breathing anymore.” The room fell silent as Gregory gaped at Harry.

“What the fucking are you saying?!” He screams directly at Harry’s face.

“But you weren’t the first people to find him, were you?” Harry stands, proudly in front of him with Liam behind him, fearless. “It was your sister and her husband. Is that not right, Mrs. McKlein? You see, the same night Sonia was murdered, a car accident happened near the Golf Club. A couple died that night, the car fell off a cliff but their daughter survived.”

The woman walks to them, elegant and determined, with fire in her eyes and rage in her hands as she points her finger at Harry’s chest.

“Are you making fun of our pain?” she whispers, looking at Harry’s eyes. “Do you find this entertaining?”

“No,” he says and turns to look at Leyla McKlein. “But she does.”

They all stare at her. She’s standing there with a blank expression on her face, her hands behind her back and suddenly, she looks so much older than a minute ago.

“You forgot one witness.” Harry walks past them and approaches Leyla but she doesn’t move, she doesn’t speak, she doesn’t even flinch. “So when you walked in and saw what was happening you tried to talk to your sister and her husband, but they weren’t listening. I imagine they were already calling the police and leaving to get in their car.”

Doris McKlein in now behind her husband and they’re looking at Harry the same way they all look at him at the end of the day: with hatred in their eyes.

“Then the fatal accident happened, but when Leyla didn’t die, you decided to adopt her. You changed her name, took care of her and even loved her like your own,” Harry finishes, looking at Liam and nodding. “But it doesn’t matter how far you run, the past will always catch up.”

This is when Liam steps up. “You’re under arrest for the murder on Alice and Brenan Addley.”

Another two officers enter Liam’s room and handcuff the McKleins, taking them out as they yell about nonsense and lack of proof, how Harry’s over just like Liam’s career. Leyla McKlein is taken out of the office too, but to the interrogation room instead with Liam following close behind.

Niall breathes out all the air he didn’t know he was holding since this case started. He presses the button to call the lift and they wait, nodding at people who talk to them about one thing or the other until the door opens and they can finally leave. It’s raining when they step out of Scotland Yard and they wait for a cab to stop in front of them.

“No one is going to buy it.” Niall says, looking at Harry’s profile as he turns to him just for a second. “The father and the sister doing this alone,” he says, moving his hand around like he’s trying to explain the situation, but the truth is, he has other thing in his mind. They need to talk about the kisses. “The names? The letter? All this time waiting?”

“Or maybe someone else did all the work.” Harry turns to him, slightly looking down at him. “Maybe they just waited and tipped them off. I don’t doubt she is smart,” Harry explains, “because she is. But to execute something at this range.” He shakes his head, looking in front of him as he has the answers in display, it’s just going too fast to see it clearly now. “They had to have help, from someone with contacts and power.”

Niall frowns and looks up at Liam’s office where he should be questioning Leyla McKlein. Who was Harry talking about? Someone that would guide two broken people to do something this atrocious? What kind of person is that? How do you find them?

“Are you gonna tell Liam?” He asks.

“Not now,” Harry says, frowning. “Not until I know who is behind all this.”

Niall is about to reply when he sees a familiar black car park in front of them and then, a red umbrella stepping out of the vehicle. The woman he saw a little more than a month ago is walking towards them dressed in a black dress, wearing a perfectly clean white coat and red heels, matching the color on her lips. She’s looking at Harry with a smile on her face but Harry is still talking to him, paying her no attention, making Niall’s heart beat even faster. Is he in danger?

“Harry,” Niall says under his breath, pulling on his coat sleeve.

“If you’re questioning my moral compass just now, Niall, I’m sorry to tell you-”

“That’s the woman!” Niall says louder, making Harry turn at the same time she stops in front of him, holding her red umbrella and taking off her sunglasses.

“Afternoon, Sherlock.”

Harry gives her a look, from head to toe. He’s not afraid of her, he almost looks… bored. He takes a couple of steps further but Niall stops him, pulling him by the sleeve again. They don’t know if she has people with her right now.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks, sounding irritated as he shakes Niall off and goes to stand in front of her.

“As ever, I’m concerned about you.” She closes her umbrella when she’s under the roof with the two of them, using the umbrella as a walking stick.

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing about your concern,” he says between his teeth and Niall looks away. The woman laughs and gives Niall a smile.

“Always so aggressive,” she says as she clears his coat from non-existent dust, fixing up the collar of his shirt, like she knows he likes to wear it that way. “Never occurred to you that you and I belong on the same side?”

Harry laughs, stridently, catching the attention of almost everyone around them. “Oddly enough, no.”

She lets go of his clothes goes and starts walking around them, looking at the building and the people going in and out, looking and the police cars and hearing the sirens. She breathes it all in, but she’s not intimidated. She acts like she owns the place, like she’s been here hundreds of times before, like she’s the one who calls the shots.

“We have more in common than you’d like to believe.” She walks behind them, making the umbrella tap the floor with every step she takes, putting that sound in the back of Niall’s mind. “This petty feud between us is simply childish.” and now she sounds irritated. She’s mad. “People will suffer,” she snarls and Niall wonders if he’s the only one listening to this conversation, “and you know how it always upsets mummy.”

What?

Niall frowns and looks at her and then at Harry. Their expressions haven’t changed at all. They’re still standing back to back, extremely dramatic as the raindrops hit the floor and people’s steps are the only sound that can compete with the water hitting.

“I upset her?” Harry turns to face her. “Me?!” He’s screaming now but she doesn’t react at all. All she does is cross her arms and look at him like it’s not the first time she has dealt with this. “It wasn’t me that upset her, Mycroft!”

“No, no,” Niall says, shaking his head as he gets closer to them. “Wait.” He lifts his finger, pointing at both of their faces and taking one second to think. “Mummy? Who is mummy?”

“Mother,” Harry answer, as if it that was obvious. “Our mother.” He points to himself and then to the woman in front of him. “This is my sister, Gemma. But she goes by Mycroft. Also putting on weight again as far as I can see.”

“Losing it, in fact.” She smiles back with murder written in her eyes, ignoring Niall completely.

“She’s your sister?” Niall whispers to Harry, his eyes wide open and his hand on Harry’s arm.

“Of course she’s my sister.” Harry frowns at Niall and he can see it now, the resemblance.

The shape of the face, the nose and even the lips if he pays enough attention. Her eyes are green, just like Harry’s, just a bit darker but he can see fire within them. The way she moves, the way she smiles and the way she talks like she knows everything and anything about everyone. Yeah, he can see it now.

“She’s not…?” Niall says but stops immediately. It sounds so ridiculous now.

“Not what?” Harry asks, leaning his head to the side.

“I don’t know…” Niall lets Harry’s arm go as he slowly turns to look at the woman next to him, Harry’s sister, Gemma Holmes, apparently. “A criminal mastermind?”

Harry smiles, nodding as he looks at Gemma. “Well, almost.”

“For goodness sake!” she screams out, stomping her foot on the floor and turning her hands into fists. “I occupy a minor position in the British Government.”

“She is the British Government.” Harry ignores his sister as he talks to Niall directly. “When she’s not too busy being the British Secret Service, or the CIA on a freelance basis. Let’s go, John,” he says if Gemma didn’t already know his name. “Good evening, Gemma. Try not to start a war before I get home, you know what it does to the traffic.” And then he’s off to call a cab with an extended arm.

“So,” she says. Niall doesn’t need to see her face to know what she’s about to ask, he understands now. “You’ll stay.” He nods and puts his hands in his pockets. He has decided he wants to make Harry suffer a little longer for not telling him the scary woman was his sister.

“Did you bring me a car?!” Harry yells from the other side of the street.

“Why would I bring you a car?!” Gemma yells back. “Buy your own one.”

And that’s when Niall laughs. He starts walking towards Harry when Gemma opens her umbrella and catches up with him.

“Dr. Watson?” Niall looks at her in surprised. After this last couple of months, his own name sound strange. “Take care of him.”

And then she’s gone. She gets into the black car and disappears in the middle of the rain. Niall goes to Harry and stands next to him. He whistles, making two cars stop in front of them. He walks to the nearest one and opens the door for him.

“You should have done that sooner,” Harry says as he steps inside. “Our lives are quite busy, Watson.”

Niall smiles, looking down at the floor as he closes the cab’s door behind him.

“To Baker Street.”

#my writing #tlc #sherlock au #i love sherlock so much so yeah #this had to happen #also im convinced shirley is the female name or sherlock sO #narry #narry au #narry fanfic #narry fic #my fic #harry!sherlock #niall!watson #narry is johnlock #niall x harry #harry x niall #fanfic #fic #mine

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