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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

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Hollow Pass (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader has to spend a day in the mines for work, she’s less than thrilled. When the miner showing her around for the day, Dean Winchester, is an ass, she’s even less thrilled. But an accident will change all of that and if they want a chance of getting out of the mess they’re in, they’ll need to put their lives in each others hands, literally...

Pairing: Miner!Dean x reader

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, injury, frightening/claustrophobic/near death situations

A/N: Please enjoy the first of this 2 parter!

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You sighed as you stood in the trailer of the manager’s office, a jumpsuit and a pair of boots sat in a chair. Your boss, bless his heart, thought it was always a good idea for corporate positions to experience a day in the mines to truly understand the product and what the little guy went through on a day to day basis. The argument that you were not really corporate, not even close, seemed to go over his head.

“Y/N, you gonna change? I need my office back,” said the manager through the door. You pulled it open and pouted. “I don’t want you going down in the mines anymore than you do but if you want to make corporate, you gotta do what the CEO says.”

“Dad I don’t even want to work there. I like my simple office job.”

“Then why have you been in all those development programs at work?” he asked. You shrugged and he sighed. “Cause you can’t say no.”

“Do I have to?” you asked, looking back at the overalls.

“Do you want to quit?” he asked.

“I don’t want to lose a good paycheck. But I don’t want a corporate job either,” you said.

“Then you’re shit outta luck,” he said. “I’m gonna put you with the Winchester boy. He’s on safety checks in our most secure mines.”

“You mean the ones that never have problems.”

“Funny how that all coincidentally happened today of all days,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks dad.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere near explosives. You’ll be safe doing the checks with Dean for the day.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you said twenty minutes later. The man in overalls and a hard hat rolled his eyes.

“I’m ten minutes late because of you which means I’m gonna get docked those ten minutes of pay so thank you little miss corporate.”

“I’m your boss’ daughter, jackass.”

“Still ain’t my boss,” he said. You huffed and headed over towards the mine entrance when he grabbed the back of your overalls. “No, dummy. You have zero safety gear so unless you want to die, you’re coming with me.”

“Asshole.”

“Dean Winchester at your service,” he said, dragging you over with him to some lockers. He punched a card and went to the storage racks, seemingly grabbing a few items and putting them on. He picked the hard hat off your head and grabbed one with a light and a wire attached to it, clipping it on your belt. He put something over your shoulder you put your arm through like a sling and clipped a mask onto the back of your belt, a flashlight and a small hand pickaxe going through your other loops. “Turn this lamp on anytime you’re in the mine and never, ever, take off your hat. If I yell at you or you smell something funny, get that mask on. Flashlight and the axe are backup for emergencies.”

He put a radio in your pocket and looked you over.

“Oh and for the love of God, do not wander off. I don’t care if you see a bug or break a nail or gotta piss.”

“What do you do if you have to…” you said.

“Normally you piss against some rock like a man but special manager’s daughter we’ll walk you back out here, take our slow ass time, make me go longer than my shift and because I was late today, I don’t get overtime.”

“That sounds kinda illegal.”

“The contracts for this company are a fucking nightmare,” he said, walking out of storage.

“Why work here then?” you asked as he went to an area and grabbed a clipboard. He took two water bottles and clipped them on each of your belts before whistling for you to follow after.

“Well somebody had to pay for his baby brother to go to law school and it wasn’t going to be my drunk of a father now was it,” said Dean, stopping and writing something down.

“So you didn’t grow up with mining in your family?” you asked.

“No. I’m not some redneck hillbilly like you imagine either,” he said. He flipped on his light and turned yours on when you got to the mine entrance. “Crouch.”

“Huh?”

“We ain’t riding the cart which is missing, dumbass. Crouch down so you can fit in the tunnel,” he said. You swallowed and had to bend down some, following Dean closely. “Ain’t claustrophobic are ya cause now’s the time to tell me.”

“No,” you said. “Jerk.”

“Ah, see? We’re getting along already.”

You walked for five or so minutes before the ground sloped down further and an entrance to the right opened up. Dean straightened up and you did the same, stretching out as he grabbed the back of your jumpsuit.

“Dude, would you stop doing that?” you said.

“Would you stay in my line of sight?”

“That’s harassment. You can’t touch me without my permission,” you said, crossing your arms. He blinked a few times and rolled his eyes quite possibly the most dramatically you’d ever seen in your life.

“This? This is not an office building. Every single time you step in here you run the risk of dying and you have zero clue on how to stay safe down here. I hate it when you people with your big offices and penny pinching bullshit come down here and complain about every goddamn little thing. If you want out, get out of the fucking mining business.”

“You’re an irritable person,” you said. He grumbled and tugged you along with him until you brushed him off. You followed him down a hallway and another, Dean checking things off on his clipboard as he went. “Are you gonna explain any of this stuff?”

“What do you think?” he said. He whistled and you followed him down a few more hallways when he stopped a gauge looking contraption. He checked a few different numbers and valves on it as you spun around.

“I guess it is kinda cool. That somehow you guys know how to block up rocks and leave all these cracks and know how to make it so it doesn’t all come crashing down.”

“Cracks?” he asked as he squatted down and read off a meter.

“Yeah like that big one,” you said, pointing at the wall across the way. He turned around and looked at it for barely a second before he grabbed your arm.

“Move. Now,” he said. He pulled out his radio and pressed down the button. “We have a grade five crack in Lodge Six West. Do not blow. I repeat do not-”

The ground rumbled and you heard a splintering noise, Dean pushing you back into the hallway you’d been in. He jumped on top of you and covered your body with his, all the lights going out, a loud thundering of falling rocks happening close by. It seemed to go on and on before it finally stilled, the hallway pitch black.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said, coughing when you felt dust in the air.

“Don’t move,” he said. He lifted his head and there was some light, Dean looking around before climbing off of you and staring at a new wall of rock. He looked at the hallway you’d been in, clicking on his flashlight and you saw where the rock dropped off about a hundred feet away. “Well. Shit.”

“What just happened?”

“The rock was unstable and they already set off the charges and it shook the mountain so now there’s a giant hole over there and our exit is blocked.”

“What’s that way?” you asked, nodding down the only unobstructed hallway.

“Further down into the mine before you hit the decommissioned area.”

“Is there a way out,” you asked, Dean patting his side.

“Fuck. My radio is under all that,” he said. He took out yours and handed it to him, Dean nodding before he turned it on. “Main do you copy, over?”

There was silence on the other end and Dean hit the button again.

“Main this is Winchester in Lodge Six West with…what’s your name?” he asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, manager’s kid. Copy, over.”

“Winchester this is Main. We got lots of calls coming in from ground crews about a shaking.”

“Lodge Six West Hall K is a giant crater of death and Hall H is buried, right up to the entrance of junction HJ.”

“Injuries?”

“We’re okay,” said Dean.

“Give me a second.”

Dean took a deep breath and coughed. He tapped your mask on your belt and you put it on, the air a bit easier to breath.

“Winchester this is Melvin.”

“She’s okay, boss. Just a little shook up. Saved our asses from winding up in the ground even if she doesn’t know it yet,” he said. He held out the radio and you pulled down the mask.

“Dad I’m fine, really. We both are. It’s just kinda dark and smelly is all.”

“I know. Put your mask on sweetie until you can get to some cleaner air,” he said. You put it back on, Dean, getting to his feet. He pulled you up and looked back at your blocked path.

“Any other collapses?” asked Dean.

“None reported so far. Everyone should be out of the mine’s or on their way. Alarm is blasting.” You looked back at Dean, his eyes shutting.

“Melvin we can’t hear it. At all.”

“Rodney’s out checking where our side of the collapse starts. We’ll get you out,” he said, someone panting in the background.

“Hall B, Mel,” he said. Dean turned away from you and sighed. No one said anything for a long time until Dean finally raised his head.

“We got two 16 ounces bottles of water. If she rations it, she’s got a shot,” said Dean quietly.

“No, she doesn’t,” said your dad, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “How long does your radio have?”

“Mine got crushed. Hers was on a quarter charge. I’d guess maybe an hour or two tops,” he said.

“Should we call your brother?”

“He’s hiking in Glacier Park this week. No cell service,” said Dean quietly. “Just tell him to check my bottom desk drawer. There’s something for him there.”

“I can do that,” he said. “Is there anyone...parents-”

“All due respect sir, I’d rather you talk to your daughter,” he said. Dean held out the radio to you and you picked it up, Dean skirting around the corner to the one unblocked hallway.

“Dean?” you asked, following over there. He was leaned against the wall and looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s going on?”

“They can’t dig us out in time.”

“What do you mean-”

“Talk to your dad. You’re wasting time. That battery won’t last forever,” he said. He turned back and you walked back around the corner, sitting down against the wall.

“Hi dad,” you said.

“Hey,” he said, his voice shaky. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Mom’s on her way down to talk, okay? She’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“I so quit this job,” you said, wiping off your eyes with the back of your hand. He laughed and you threw your head back. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna stay on the line as long as I can, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.”

Two Hours Later

The battery in the radio had died about fifteen minutes ago. There was no sound aside from your sniffling and Dean’s down the hall. You got up eventually and went into the hall, sitting down beside him. You handed him the radio and he clipped it back on his belt.

“You okay?” you asked, voice hoarse.

“You try listening to someone say goodbye to their parents and not bawl,” he said. He wiped off his face and took a deep breath. “Air’s better now at least.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now,” he said, clipping his water bottle onto your belt. “You sit there and try not to exert a lot of energy and that water will last you a few days.”

“We both heard my father. They can’t drill or dig or do anything fast enough. It’d take weeks. I’m not sitting here next to your dead ass so take your damn water back,” you said, shoving it back in his chest. He didn’t speak but put it on his belt, pulling his knees into his chest. “Why were you so mean to me before? You gave up time on the phone for me. I don’t think you’re what you pretend to be.”

“I’m a dead man walking and that’s a fact.”

“Technically you’re sitting.”

He smiled and rested his face in his knees. He sat up and reached over behind you, hitting off your headlight.

“We need to conserve power as long as possible,” he said.

“Will our lights go out before we dehydrate to death?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said. “This is what it’ll be like.”

He flipped off his lamp and you swore you’d never experienced a darkness so deep. You felt his hand graze yours before holding it and you swallowed.

“Kinda less scary knowing you can turn it back on again,” he said.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why such a brute?”

“You do this job long enough and most people think you’re a dumb sack of shit with nothing in his head. You’re dead weight, odds are you’ll die down here or get into some kind of accident and have to go on disability the rest of your life. You corporate people are always so stuck up, like I’m not even good enough to be the dirt on your shoes. I didn’t give you a chance because odds were you were like all the rest of them. You’re the only reason we didn’t die in that hole, very painfully.”

“Wouldn’t we have-”

“No. It’s not a simple hole we would have fell in. Falling rocks, crushing and hitting, landing on you, ones you hit yourself. Might not kill you immediately. You’d feel it.”

“Dying of thirst is better?”

“I’d say so. Still get to keep this handsome face, or what’ll be left of it,” he said. He flipped his light back on and you scooted closer. “I think you’re very attractive.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m gonna die in like three or four days. Life has no consequences now and I happen to find you very attractive and you seem like a smart, sweet woman that put her parents a little at ease during the worst moment of their lives.”

“Who’s your brother?” you asked. “No consequences after all.”

“He’s a lawyer...and my best friend.”

“You said you did this job for him.”

“Student debt is a bitch. I try to help him out and the overtime helps make dents in it,” he said. “Our parents had debt out their asses. It caused so many problems for us. I wanted him safe, never have to worry about the next meal on the plate or the roof over his head or having to wear my hand me downs ever again. At least he’ll get my life insurance policy. That should help.”

“I have been busting my ass since I was a college freshman in that office to move up the chain for a job I didn’t even want. I completely lost nearly all of my twenties to work. All so I could die in here.”

“Well I know this doesn't sound good but I’m glad I didn’t die all super painful. Or that I’ll be alone,” he said. You smiled and nodded, Dean returning it. “Got any bucket list shit we can pull off down here?”

“We could make out,” you said. “Never knew anyone could make that jumpsuit look good.”

“Why the fuck not,” he chuckled. He leaned in close and your helmets bonked, Dean pulling his off and yours, quickly cupping your face.

His lips were gentler than you thought, the two of you stopping when your lips were pressed together. You rested your forehead against his and broke off only an inch.

“Not as much fun at the moment as it sounded,” you breathed out.

“Pretty good last kiss though,” he said. You put your helmets back on and you grabbed his hand again.

“Don’t let go down here. Please.”

He reached to his belt and undid a little pouch, pulling out a small tether of rope. He clipped one end onto him and the other to you.

“For when the lights go out,” he said.

“How long do we got?”

“About a day, maybe a little more,” he said. You sighed and turned your head, staring down the rest of the hall. “It’s decommissioned, Y/N. It’s a death trap.”

“Is there a way out?” you asked.

“Maybe. Maybe they never find us though,” he said. You stared at him and he nodded, hitting your headlamp back on. “Enough of the pity party. Let’s go get out of here or die trying.”

He stood and held out a hand, hoisting you to your feet.

“So. What’s our best option?” you asked.

“It’s alright for a bit until we get to the decommissioned section. When we get there, that’s when it gets dangerous. Technically it’s dangerous now considering the blast but we’re okay for a bit,” he said.

“Let’s go then,” you said. He nodded and you followed him down the hall, walking side by side.

“Alright so the decommissioned section is called Hollow Pass. Beyond that is Upper Seven. If we can get to Upper Seven, we can get out the old entrance I’m pretty sure. Never been in there but hopefully it’s not a maze over there.”

“So Hollow Pass is the hard part.”

“Yeah.”

“Why was it decommissioned?”

“Unstable ground. Holes, pockets of air, rotted support beams, wood planks.”

“So it’s a death trap.”

“Yup,” he said. “We’re probably gonna die down there.”

“What do you think our odds are?”

“Well it’s been out of order for over fifty years, we have no map, I have no real idea where exactly to go...I give us 1% odds.”

“Beats are 0% odds here.”

“Good way to think about it considering we’re going to most likely die.” He stopped walking and took a deep breath. “If I fall or whatever, follow the widest hall possible and keep away from wood and cracks as best as possible. Ration your water and eventually you’ll find your way out.”

“If you fall I’m definitely not gonna make it.”

“Well at least try. You can tell my brother how devastatingly brave I was that way.”

“You just spent the past hour crying.”

“So did you,” he said. You bumped his shoulder and he returned it but it was playful and soft. You walked together quietly for a moment until Dean rounded a corner and took a deep breath.

There were a few planks across a hallway, Dean kicking them down, frowning when they broke pretty easily.

“There’s gonna be rot.”

“Lovely.”

“We don’t have to go,” he said. “You don’t have to. There’s a chance-“

“There’s no chance Dean. Not if we stay up there. If you don’t want to go, I will. Maybe I can get help back in-“

“We’re doing this together or you’re staying. I can go and you-“

“We both go,” you said.

“I go first. You step where I step and if I tell you to do anything, you do it.”

“Dean. We already established that you’re not a hardass. You can lead the way but you know, nicely.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. He gave more slack in the rope attached to the two of you and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

He was calm for a few minutes until you were turning down a hallway, Dean suddenly stopping in front of you.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Look,” he said. You poked your head around him, swallowing at the rotted wood on the ground, holes worn into the planking. “Y/N that’s not good. Rot means there’s water and water means erosion and erosion means big shafts hundreds of feet straight down under those wood planks.”

“How much of it is wood?” you asked. You both looked ahead and sighed, the whole hall flooring covered in wood. “Shit.”

“Y/N. This is too dangerous. I’ve worked in mines since I was 18 and it’s way too dangerous.”

“Dean. I don’t want to die. If we don’t do anything, we’re dead in three days, maybe less.”

“Maybe they come up the decommissioned mine and get us,” he said.

“Dean. The mountain collapsed from what my dad said. They are not coming in here, risking even more lives, in this mine. It might even have collapsed on the other side on the way out. We don’t know. All we do know is we stay and we’re dead or we go and we’re maybe dead.”

“You still won’t let me go on ahead on my own to try to get some help?”

“You’re not leaving me alone,” you said. You stepped ahead and he yanked on the rope, pulling you back. “Dean. Stop.”

“I go first,” he said. You held up your hands and he swallowed, Dean stepping past you, carefully putting his weight down on each plank. “Follow. Every footstep exactly where mine go.”

You followed after, the only sounds your breathing and the occasional board creaking. Dean put a foot down and stopped moving forward when you heard snapping.

“Go back. Slowly.”

You stepped a foot backwards, putting weight on it and your foot going straight through. Dean grabbed your arm as you pulled your foot up, a few sticks falling into a deep dark pit.

“What do we do,” you breathed out.

“Well we’re over rock that fell away so there’s a big hole beneath us if the rotted wood is anything to go by,” he said. You heard the slight waiver in his voice and sighed. “We make a choice. Forwards or backwards.”

“Back looks bad. Plus we already probably broke the supports.”

“I think solid ground is in front. But I have to jump for it,” he said. You looked past him and shook your head.

“Dean, it's way too far. I can try to walk over there if you let out the rope. I get to solid ground and then you walk and if you fall, I got you with the rope.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no way.”

“You’re too heavy and we can’t stay here,” you said. You slipped past him and he tried to grab you but you went quickly. “Dean let out the rope. Now.”

“Fuck. We’re gonna die.”

“No we’re not,” you said, walking quickly, planks creaking but you sighed when you had solid rock under your feet again. “Alright. Just go where I did and fast.”

He took a deep breath and walked a few steps, a loud groaning of the wood making him move faster.

You hit the ground the second you saw him go down, the wood breaking away. Dean shouted and you dug your heels into the dirt.

“Y/N!” he said, falling straight down into a hole and out of view.

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A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #dean #winchester #dean spn #miner!dean #au #dean x you #Dean Winchester one shot

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katsuflossy · 4 years

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The Guys With Their Badass Kid

Synopsis: How would Class 1A’s Big Three raise/discipline their child.

Pairings: Bakugo Katsuki x reader, Izuku Midoriya x reader, Todoroki Shouto x reader

A/N: Shout out to my two years old niece! This goes out to you for being a little smug rascal. Anyways since I’m the situation of a kid going through their terrible twos then why not make a hc about it. My niece’ll model all these little kids :) someone please save me

💥 Karma got Bakugo bad. And by bad I mean bad.

💥You wished you would’ve married a man with better karma but it’s Bakugo so 🤷🏽‍♀️.

💥 He knew he was badass child, disobedient, potty-mouthed, bossy little— you get the point.

💥 But for his little girl to be 10x worse, not even if it was prophesied in his dream he couldn’t prepare for her terrible twos.

💥 “Khia what do you have in your hand?” The toddler just continued swirling whatever she had in her hand, some of it breaking off on the floor. “Khia, bring what’s in your hand.” Radio silence, as if he wasn’t talking to her. “Khia! I said- What the fuck is that?!”

💥 Turns out you shouldn’t curse around kids because Khia kept saying “What the fwuck?” after everything. All thanks to Bakugo.

💥 “What did I tell you about cursing around Khia! She went to daycare today calling at Yashiro and calling him a dumbass!” “Well, tell engine calves to not let his son hang around my little girl!” “They’re friends!” “Friends my ass!”

💥Ofcourse she went to daycare the next day declaring Yashiro is “my ass.”

💥 You tried discussing the best way to scold her. Bakugo defs believe in corporal punishment, even thought it didn’t work for him.

💥Mans is ready to pull out the good ole belt. The slightest utterance of a curse word he’ll put that shit from under him.

💥 “Fu-“ “Oi! What was that!” The belt just magically appears in his hand through manifestation.

💥 If you don’t believe in corporal punishment, he’ll just put her on time out, a lot.

💥 Either way he rarely uses physical punishment unless she does something very serious that deserves a pat on her behind.

💥 Loves his little girl regardless.

🥦 If he’s not working, regardless of being exhausted or not. He’s chilling with his little boy.

🥦 He’s a helicopter dad and it doesn’t even matter because his three year old would just ignore him if he keeps telling his son what to do to try keep him safe.

🥦 “Toshinori? What do you have in your hand?”

🥦 “A KNIFE!” I’m just playing Toshinori would ignore the shit out of him whether it was a knife or not.

🥦 If it was something dangerous, he’ll just One for All his way across to room to inspect what he had before speeding away with it, nagging about how his son should be way more careful. If it’s not dangerous but something he shouldn’t play with, he’ll just ask him to give him whatever he has. But Midoriya is not in any way demanding about it.

🥦 You know the reaction when your mother says “I’m calling your father” and the kid pees their pants? Yeah, that is the opposite for Midoriya. He has to use you as in order for Toshinori to behave. I hc that Deku would name his son Toshinori.

🥦 “U-um Toshi can I have the bracelet please? It’s for your mom and I can’t play with it.” Complete radio silence as response. “Toshi, may I please have the bracelet?” Again no response. “Toshinori! Give me the bracelet or else I am calling your mother.”

🥦 The bracelet was given up before he could say something else. You’re just the strict parent you in the house whether you wanted or not.

🥦 You talked to Izuku about putting his foot down and to a certain point he did.

🥦 He’d put Toshinori on time out for ten minutes.

🥦 Not even three minutes in and he tells Toshinori he’s off of timeout and goes to hug his crying son.

🥦 Them tears are fake as hell. Even your son knows how to manipulate you, Deku.

🥦 Just face it, you’re the enforcer in the house 🤷🏽‍♀️.

🧊 Mane I love this boy.

🧊 And his daughter loves him too. Akira’s a little Daddy’s girl.

🧊So all the bad behavior was left for you. Could’ve sworn you weren’t the one who birthed her or you were a step mom the way she doesn’t listen to you.

🧊 “Akira, I told you a thousand times to stop jumping on the couch. Sit down” She continues to jump on the couch like she didn’t hear you. “Okay then keep jumping.” She doesn’t continue to jump but she just stands, still not sitting down. “How about you keep standing and jumping?”

🧊 You thought you caught her with that one right? No because instead of jumping or standing, she started stomping all over the couch, kicking the cushions and sending them to your side of the room.

🧊Bruh but as soon at Shoto walks in, she’s sittng down nicely, watching and laughing with Mickey on the tv 😒. (You can tell I’ve experienced this can you?)

🧊 He never really experienced her temper tantrums until one day.

🧊 You both go to pick her up from kindergarten because Shoto had the day off and it was the first time he could pick her up ever since the new school year.

🧊 He went to park the car while you entered the building. Akira ran up to your figure and jumped into your arms. Her cute curly hair tickling your chin as she gave you a big hug.

🧊 Something ain’t right here.

🧊 “Mommy can I get ice cream?” Ah, there it is. That was what that big ass hug was for.

🧊 “Maybe after dinner, baby. Then you could have whatever ice cream you want.” “But I want it now.” “Not now honey.”

🧊 After your third “Not now,” the demon popped out. She started to have a temper tantrum, stomping on the ground, rolling on the floor and throwing down whatever toy was closest to her.

🧊 Todoroki walked in on the scene and not even raising his voice, he said “Akira. To the car. Now.” Ass boutta feel like Texas now.

🧊 Didn’t punish her, instead he talked to her. A very long y’all while you waited outside the car for it to be over.

🧊 As soon as you entered the car, Akira came to give you the biggest hug and said “I’m sorry mommy” in the cutest voice known to man.

🧊 Ever since that talk she hardly gave y’all trouble. Her attitude did a 180°.

🧊 And the craziest part was that Shoto said they just talked. That’s it.

🧊 But let’s be honest, he could talk to any woman and they’ll do anything for him🤷🏽‍♀️.

#katsuki bakugo headcanons #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo x reader #izuku midoryia headcanons #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #bakugo kastuki x reader #bnha izuku #bnha izuku x reader #todoroki shouto headcanons #todoroki x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #bnha shoto x reader

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squidlyskeet · 3 years

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Joy Ride -.004

Pairing: StreetRacer!Bakugou x Fem!reader

Genre: TokyoDrift!au, Noquirks!au

Status: Ongoing

TW: violence, blood, firearms, eventual nsfw, 18+, mentions of anxiety and OCD disorders, grand theft auto, gang activity.

Summary:

It started with a simple question, “what do you say Y/n? You coming?”

After the sudden death of her mother, Y/n is sent to live with her estranged aunt halfway across the world in Tokyo, Japan. Weary of what this new adventure might hold for her, she decides to let loose the first night she was there, but how was Y/n supposed to know it would lead to a car chase? A car chase in the the passenger seat of a very angry, very hot, street racer’s super car?

A/N: BOLD ITALICS means the words are spoken in Japenese. Word ✌🏻-Squidlyskeet

The atmosphere in the car was tense.

I hadn’t said anything since Bakugou shot the car forward in a fit, after his and Mirios little altercation.

He was right when he said I didn’t want to be without a harness when we made our descent down the spiral exit of the parking deck. It took all my strength to hold on to the door and keep my body from leaning on him in his effort to keep the car sideways the whole way down.

I didn’t know what Mirio said to put him in a bad mood, but I knew maybe now wasn’t the time to speak as we pulled to the makeshift starting line of the race track.

I looked out the window trying to distract myself from the suffocating feeling of being trapped in a car with Bakugou. He never turned the radio on, a surprising shot of relief flew through me wanting to give my ears a break from all the loud noises tonight. The problem was that even if the music rattled me, it was still quieter than the deafening silence of sitting with Bakugou in his car, surrounded by the empty streets of the suburban town.

My hands fiddled in my lap, and I chanced a glance at Bakugou.

His two handed grip on the steering wheel turned his knuckles white, and his glare was directed at the pavement in front of him. It didn’t slip past me that we were the only car at the starting line.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, trying to get a feel for his mood and my voice coming out more timid than what I’d have liked.

“Shut up.” Bakugou spat, clearly trying to focus.

While I knew that I should probably keep my mouth shut, I couldn’t help myself from pushing the angry man just a little further. Sure my bone deep anxiety told me to just mind my own business, but I knew that look on his face.

The thought of anyone else feeling the overwhelming loneliness and that alone overpowered my urge to curl into myself.

“Ehem,” I cleared my voice, trying again at conversation. “What are the tanks for? Mirio had them in his car too, but I don’t get what they’re for.” I tried to play off my tone as just curious, but secretly I wondered what was going through his head.

His head snapped to me, the sneer he was sporting directed at me and I felt the familiar clench of fear in my stomach.

I leaned away from him and tried to curl myself into the seat but the harness held true and wouldn’t let my body move more than an inch.

“Didn’t I tell you to shut the hell up? Can’t you see I’m trying to focus, or do you want to die at one hundred and seventy miles an hour?” Bakugou gritted through his teeth at me, and I realized that he wasn’t sad.

He was trying to get his head in the game.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet now.” My voice squeaked as he pressed his back flush to his seat once again.

Finally, when I could move from my frozen position I pulled all my navigator items from the floor. I was fiddling with the police scanner when I heard Bakugou huff from the driver's seat.

I turned to look at him, he ran a hand down his face and through his ash blonde hair before he spoke up again.

“It’s Nitrous.” He simply stated, voice still low and gravelly but his expression lightened a little.

I wanted to ask more questions, or at least say thank you for answering as I didn’t know a thing about most of this but thought better of it when I heard the five minute gong sound and the rumble of engines from atop the parking deck.

It would probably be easier just to let him sit and think without me distracting him.

The police scanner in my hand started to blink a lazy blue when I flicked the switch and I looked for the clip in the door to hold it up like Ochako showed me.

“If you’re looking for the clip, there isn’t one. I removed it. Set it on the floor and don’t let it break anything.” Bakugou said, startling me from the quiet.

I wondered why he removed it as I blindly followed his order, and picked up the flare gun and removed it from the box. My brow furrowed in confusion when I looked down inside at the color coded shells that weren’t meant to be shot from it. There was one for each color in the rainbow, but I choked when I realized I’d have to ask him what color was his.

I looked at him and then looked back down at the box.

Okay, on the count of ten I’ll ask him.

One, two, thr-

“If you have something to say just spit it out. I hate beating around the bush, dumbass.” He scoffed without sparing me a glance.

“What did I say about calling me names, Bakugou. And I was just going to ask what color flare was yours, but you seem to be going through it over there. So I decided maybe I’d just keep my mouth shut and guess.” My attitude snapped back before my nerves could make me quiver in panic again.

“Tch. Guess? You’re telling me you were gonna sit there and guess? And what would you have done if you guessed wrong, and I didn’t get the credit I deserve for winning because you shot off the wrong color.” The ending was more of a statement than a question and his piercing gaze was finally back on me.

The rumble of engines revving and the cheering of a crowd got closer as more racers rolled their way to the starting line.

“That’s a little prideful don’t you think, just assuming you were going to win.” My tone louder than before, matching his as I tried to speak over growing noise.

Usually in situations like this, I’d cave, just as I tried to do before Bakugou started getting really angry. Something about him grated on my nerves though, and I couldn’t help the antagonizing words from falling from my mouth.

I knew my words would get a reaction out of him, what I was not expecting though was for his face to fall into an eerie calm, his sharp eyes relaxing into an uncaring smugness.

He turned to face the windshield again, his dizzying mood change throwing my brain into a spiraling mess of thoughts.

How did he switch so quickly? It was like he was fuming mad, and then he just..turned it off? He did the same thing up on the parking deck. When he was mad that I was hanging around his squad and then after finding out who I was, he just turned around and acted like I didn’t exist.

He started the engine again, revving the engine up with the rest of the cars parked beside us. A smirk painted across his nonchalant face.

I was openly staring now.

“Aren’t you gonna like, get mad or something?” I asked, pushing to see if I could get the reaction I wanted out of him. For some reason, him shoving me off made me more angry than hearing that deep raspy voice of his calling me names.

“Listen up and listen close, you scared little brat. I’m going to win, and of that much, I’m sure of. I don’t need a Navigator, I haven’t in years,” He rolled down his window to flip off Kirishima, who’d pulled up next to us, a dopey grin stretched across his sharp teeth. “What was I saying? Oh yeah. Anyways, the only reason you’re in that seat right now is because of the respect I have for the Yakuz- for Mirio. You don’t matter, and your opinion on if I’m going to win or not doesn’t matter.” Bakugou finished his explanation with a shrug of his shoulder.

He spoke directly to me while he spoke and I realized this man didn’t give a shit about much else than himself.

My mood dropped instantly at his words. I could feel the moment of confidence leave my body as I let the phrase bounce around my skull, hyper focused on those three words as he flipped switches and reached behind him to turn the valves on the tanks.

You don’t matter.

He was right, I knew he was right. I’ve been told that my entire life by my father's family. Scolded for being the baby born out of adulterous wedlock, as if it was my fault. I wasn’t entitled to anything, I had no rights to anything because I wasn’t legitimate.

I didn’t matter.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at him again, knowing I needed to say just one last thing before I finally could be silent and count the seconds until the car took off so I didn’t have to acknowledge him anymore.

“You never told me what color.” I could feel my mouth move and hear my voice, but it was detached and small.

If Bakugou had a reaction I didn’t see it. I was too busy staring into my lap and the box full of colored flare shells and avoiding his presence all together. He didn’t answer either, as he reached across the center console and faster than I could follow, snatched one of the shells out of the box.

He picked up the box after that and threw it behind my seat, bringing his large hand back up and holding the orange shell just below my chin.

I grabbed it from his hand and was mad at myself when the brush of our fingers left a small tingle shoot up my arm.

Sure he was a raging toolbag, but that didn’t change the fact that he was also one of the best looking men I’ve ever seen.

Bakugou didn’t acknowledge me again as he turned to face his window, reverting back to Japanese with Kirishima. I took the small amount of time to count and breathe. Trying to recollect my thoughts, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and realized that it was Ochako waving frantically from the passenger seat of Deku’s car and trying to get my attention.

I took a second to shake out of my depressing thoughts and prepared to put on a smile before reaching forward to roll down the window. I frowned when I extended my arm, only to find my arms weren’t long enough to reach the switch.

I sat back in my seat and exhaled before throwing my weight forward, using all of my abdominal muscles to try and even get a finger on the switch but the tight vice grip of the eight point harness afforded me with no such luck.

When I finally was about to give up, the window started coming down by itself. I was shocked and looked around to find the source, and lowkey looking to make sure I didn’t break anything when I looked at Bakugou.

He had his finger on the master switch on his door and I caught the tail end of a dramatic eye roll before he turned back around, continuing his conversation with Kiri.

“Y/n!” Ochako yelled, leaning her head past Deku.

I plastered a smile to my face, and waved foregoing greeting her back in fear my voice would crack with hurt feelings.

“Is Bakugou being nice?” She asked, trying to talk louder than the revving engines.

I knew I could tell her I wanted out of this car more than I wanted my next breath, but decided against it. I wouldn’t stoop to his level, and more importantly, I wouldn’t give him what he wanted.

Maybe I didn’t have the courage to shoot back verbally, but my actions have always spoken louder than my words. I’d sit my ass in this seat, irritating him silently, until he was ready to rip that silky spiked hair out of his scalp. So I lied.

“He’s been nothing but a perfect gentleman.” I replied back loudly, hoping the sarcasm I wanted to drip into the comment didn’t shine through.

I knew he probably heard me, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn around and see if he had a reaction.

Ochako’s face lit up, excited that her friend was actually being nice and Deku was staring at Bakugou past me. A contemplative expression on his face.

“Be safe and have fun then! Only a minute left.” She squealed in excitement and pointed at the giant clock mounted to the top of a car, and my eyes wanted to roll. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous that she’s having fun, while I have to sit in misery with the walking bad attitude seated next me.

“Get your arm in the window.” Another uncaring command came from Bakugou.

I pulled my arm back and waved bye to Ochako while she finished buckling her own harness.

Bakugou rolled up my window, and I looked out the windshield as a skinny older man with long blonde hair walked out in front of the cars with a microphone.

This must be the presenter.

“Alright ladies and gents, welcome to Round Two. You know the rules.., there are none. Whoever can make it to *city/name* and back first wins,” Bakugou’s menacing glare was back. This must mean he was focused. “Camie, baby, come take it away.” The man finished and took the mic from in front of his mouth. He motioned his hand to the side, signaling for someone to come out to where he stood.

A woman approached at the movement, my eyes caught the sight of her strut as she glided effortlessly in her six inch heels in front of the cars. Her red Bodycon dress complimented her perfect figure and moved with her limbs as she stopped next to the presenter.

She leaned over to whisper something in his ear, before taking the tied red scarf from around the presenter's neck.

The presenters' obvious blush suggested the woman said something best not announced into the microphone, and I felt my own blush heat my face in second hand embarrassment.

What really threw me off was that she was staring directly at us while she did it. Or more specifically, directly through the windshield at Bakugou. Her gorgeous face was a vision of seduction, her nose pointed to the sky as she looked at Bakugou in obvious victory.

A growl reverberated through the cramped car space as Bakugou said something in Japanese, nothing I understood, but with a tone I recognized as pissed.

“This bitch thinks she can get a rise out of me.”

I decided not to comment, clearly the two had history and it was none of my business to intervene or to try and figure out the contradictory man next to me.

Luckily I didn’t have to think too much about it before the presenter excused himself from in front of the revving cars. A horn blared from beside me and the woman spoke.

“Thirty seconds.” Her statement was short and the thousand watt smile on her face gave nothing away for me to try and figure out what she said.

Bakugou, for the first time since getting in with him, played with the screen on his dash. I couldn’t decide on what he was doing with that either until he hit a few buttons and deep bass blared out of the speakers behind me and I jumped in surprise.

It wasn’t much, but the feeling was there. The anticipation. The adrenaline started to spike at the thought of going fast again.

He slammed his feet down on the pedal beneath the dash and pushed the shifter into first, we weren’t moving but the back tires started to screech, leaving a cloud so big I couldn’t see anything behind us when I cranked my neck.

“Ten seconds.” The woman, Camie, spoke again raising the hand with the scarf in the air.

“Hold on.” Bakugou's voice was drowned out by the other cars starting their own burnouts.

I wrapped both hands around the straps of my shoulders. The giddy feeling of being able to lose myself in the moment welling inside me, and on its way to bursting.

“3...2..1..GO!” Camie dropped her arm with the scarf.

Bakugou slammed the shifter downward, and lifted his foot only to stomp it back down and move the stick again.

The engine cracked as it opened up, sending a rattle bone deep and the sounds vibrating through the pavement like thunder.

He let go of the burnout and stomped on the gas pedal. The car shot forward with a force I’d never felt before, effectively slamming my back to the seat and my head to the rest.

I watched the speedometer as it climbed, sixty..one hundred..one twenty..one fifty.

The feeling hit me in full force. Euphoria. All I could feel was the speed, the deep bass of the music, the screaming of the engine as it hit the rev limiter. We didn’t go nearly this fast in Mirio’s car and the difference was like night and day. While I lost myself in the way Mirio’s jerky driving left adrenaline pumping through my veins. Bakugou’s smooth shifting and confidence at the wheel had me feeling like I could finally breathe. Like I’d spent my whole life deprived of oxygen, and now, strapped to Bakugou’s passenger seat I could inhale deeply without the weight of anything but the scent of burnt sugar in the air.

I couldn’t keep the carefree smile from forming.

I looked out the windows, trying to see where we were and if anyone was in front of us.

It looked like we were in the lead, for this first straight stretch at least. I could see the colored headlights of the others gaining on us though, and I looked to the ash blonde to see if he’d noticed.

He was staring intently into the rear view mirror, shifting back and forth before growling in frustration. He let go of the wheel with one hand before flipping a big red switch on the dash. I watched with interest as he worked the car to its full potential, expertly swerving between lanes to try and deter the quickly gaining cars.

I glanced at the speedometer again, we were rolling at a consistent one hundred and seventy miles per hour. I noticed his finger hovered over the red button on his steering wheel, he was staring ahead and growled again when we both realized the first of many curves was coming up.

I looked in the side mirror, noticing a glint in it. I squinted trying to figure out what it was.

When I realized it was a car.

“Kirishima’s gaining on your left, his headlights are off.” The words came out before I could stop them, the tense mood from before completely forgotten as I tried to help him.

Surprise flashed across his face before his expression darkened.

“Tch. Damn Shitty Hair. I told him to quit pulling that shady shit.” He picked something up from beside his steering wheel and brought it to his mouth to speak.

“Tired of staring at my tail lights shitty hair?” He spoke in English, surprising me.

A reply came from the com almost instantly.

“What can I say, I like a phat ass Bakubro. It’s too bad I’ll have to pass it up.” Kirishima’s reply came from the little device, a round of laughter burst from my throat before I could stop it, causing Bakugou to shoot daggers at me.

“DIE.” Bakugou screamed into the com before slamming it back on its hook. Headlights illuminating his left side as he downshifted and leaned into the curve in the road, prepping to drift.

Kirishima kept up the whole time, I could tell Bakugou was getting frustrated at his tailing and pushed his speed to try and shake him.

I put my hands on the door, watching as Kirishima kept perfect pace with Bakugou. He couldn’t shake the red head no matter what he did.

A thought popped into my head and I pulled the map from the floor checking to see if there were any landmarks on it to recognize where we were.

It looked like we were almost to the turn around point, and my mind flew back to what Ochako said. That there was a shortcut, still past the turn around point but closer than taking the main road the whole way around. I knew he probably wouldn’t listen, but if there was a chance he could get away from kirishima I should probably let him know.

“I know you probably don’t care, but there is a shortcut.” I said, deciding to just get it out.

“Past the building on 2nd street. I know. That’s where I was planning to lose him. Who told you that?” He questioned, shifting his Ruby eyes between the road, me, and Kirishima.

“Ochako did. I asked her to give me a few pointers before I went with you. I wanted to do a good job.” I replied, unbothered with the semantics of conversation when the adrenaline of the competition was pumping through my veins.

“Hm.” Was his only acknowledgement before he ripped the Ebrake and whipped the car to the right, throwing us sideways and around a building.

I realized this was the shortcut, and held onto the door as we barreled around the corner into oncoming traffic. My heart dropped to my stomach when I remembered we hadn’t passed a single car, and this was putting us off the track.

The presenter did say there were no rules, but this seemed a little real to me. We were going really fucking fast, with a lot of cars in our way.

“What? Are you worried?” Bakugou asked, glancing his eyes at my hand that was clenched in my shirt over my chest.

“No. Just go.” I demanded, and surprisingly without any argument, he did.

I commanded my heart to slow down as he bobbed and weaved through traffic. Passing cars and narrowingly missing things that could kill us if we hit them at this speed.

I unconsciously reached my hand across the center console, grasping the shirt that lay over Bakugou’s ribs, seeking comfort. It was the only available space I could touch, but I jerked my hand back when I realized what I did.

I prepared myself for an onslaught of name calling and explosive anger that never came.

I looked up to Bakugou, only to find him staring at my hand in disbelief.

“Watch the road you dumbass,” I screamed at him, effectively making him snap his eyes back to the road.

If I didn’t know any better I would have said I saw a blush heat Bakugou’s face before he finally turned away. Making his next statement completely irrelevant.

“If you don’t want to die, don’t touch me like that.” He snapped.

I flushed at my mistake and looked out the window to hide my own flush.

————————————————————————

Finally, we swerved back onto an empty road. We’ve lost everyone behind us, and I could feel Bakugou’s mood lift as we sped down the straight stretch at one hundred and sixty three miles per hour.

I was actually floating, a grin splitting my face from ear to ear as I thought about our- his inevitable win.

I knew that he wouldn’t give me any credit, and I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t really do anything and I was okay with that. I made a promise to myself that even if he tried to avoid me afterwards I’d thank him for at least allowing me to come, and letting me experience this with him.

A flash went off out of the corner of my eye, and I looked at it to see that it was coming from the direction of the parking deck. Hmm. How strange.

“Hey Bakugou? Did anyone get in front of us?”

“Hell no. We left those slow asses in the dust.”

“How come a flare is going off then?” I pointed in the direction of the parking deck.

“What color?” He asked, his raspy voice held a slight irritation.

“It’s blue, why- oh wait there’s a second one. It’s yellow.” I said.

“Shit. ShIT. SHIT.” Bakugou’s voice escalated to a scream, slamming his palm against the steering wheel.

I looked at my feet, noticing that on the floor the police scanner was going wild. Blinking yellow and making god awful screeching noises.

“Um- Bakugou. Now probably really isn’t a good time but Uh- there are cops within a quarter mile of us.” My voice held panic, and he looked at me. His face, for the first time, held something other than anger.

He almost looked..apologetic.

“Here’s what we are gonna do,” He finally said we instead of I, I guess even he doesn’t want to be alone when push comes to shove. “Pull out the map, and find the fastest route back to Tokyo. It’s about an hour away any way we spin it, but I can get there in thirty minutes if we do this right.” He explained, his eyes snapping to the rear view mirror.

Red flashing lights broke the blackness of night as the cops finally noticed us. He didn’t slow down, but the cops were gaining on us.

“Hey snap out of it. Did you hear me? Get out the map.” He snapped his fingers in my face.

“What are we gonna do?” It was a dumb question, but I couldn’t think of anything else other than literally getting arrested my first day in Japan.

He shot me a smirk, which in a weird way, was kind of comforting.

“What I always do Babygirl, we’re gonna race.” He replied.

I didn’t know what he called me, but it probably wasn’t anything nice. I would be calling me names if all I had to help me through this was my dumbass.

I counted to ten and finally, I looked down at the map. Memorizing the routes and trying to find the right roads to take.

We are totally fucked.

————————————————

-.004 💥MASTERLIST💥 -.005

Taglist: @thatonegeekchick ❤️

Word✌🏻 -squidlyskeet

#my hero academia #this took a lot longer than i thought it would #uhgggg #mha #bnha au #bnha fluff #bakugou x fem!reader #bnha bakugou #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fluff #bakugou katsuki

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brokutosan · 4 years

Text

Title. Quarantine Tales Or alternatively; Bokuto Tries Baking and Nearly Poisons His Two Roommates/Best Friends

Pairing. Bokuto Koutarou x Platonic!Reader x Kuroo Tetsurou + Minor BokuAka and Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader

Summary. In which a pandemic hits the world and tests the ten year long friendship between three roommates. Or; Kuroo enters quarantine as a cheeky bastard, and walks out of it as a cheeky bastard with a really pretty girlfriend.

Warnings. Manga spoilers, very strong language, and lots of sexual innuendos. Also lots of platonic cuddling and skinship. It gets kind of steamy at the end but nothing too bad. This is basically just a collection of short stories that also kind of has a plot. Fair warning: excessive use of the words ‘bro,’ ‘dude,’ and ‘man.’

Once the news of the pandemic hit Japan, the three roommates were confident they’d come out as better individuals. Maybe pick up on a new hobby, drop a few pounds (or in Bokuto’s case, gain some muscles), and just have a good time, making the best out of the worst situation. They were good at that.

At first, however, the three friends each had a different response to the news. Bokuto decided to splurge and buy everything they need and then some they didn’t (he was making bank from being a pro athlete). He was convinced that the apocalypse was going to happen soon, and that they’ll need all the rations they could get before it’s too late. Kuroo decides to confiscate his Netflix account and told him to stop watching The Walking Dead.

During the first few days Y/N easily got swept up in Bokuto’s bullshit, also convinced that the apocalypse was coming. (“Kuroo, look! The cases doubled over the last few days! Tell me that doesn’t mean something!”) But she was easier to snap out of it, mostly because she’s not as childish as Bokuto. She did, however, buy all of her favorite snacks and put them in a secret stash. (Although Kuroo figured out where it was within three days).

Kuroo is the mediator between them. He’s a man of science, so “no, Bokuto, there’s no way the infected ones are turning into zombies, now stop crying!” He also took the liberty to create schedules and laid out some ground rules on when and how they should shop for groceries and things of that sort. He also made the rule that no one joins their Zoom meetings in the living room after Bokuto walked in on his screen ass naked.

All in all, they (Kuroo) were able to set up a system that ensured Bokuto doesn’t lose his mind out of boredom and Y/N doesn’t try to kill them in their sleep.

“If aliens take over the planet do you think I could become their overlord?”

“Doubt it. You need to have the brains for it.”

“Hey! I’m pretty smart!”

“Explain the process of osmosis.”

“Fuck you, Kuroo.”

Y/N listens in on the idiotic conversation between her two roommates, not daring to speak up in fear of losing her much needed brain cells.

“Y/N! Listen to this, Kuroo doesn’t think I’m smart enough to become an alien overlord!” Bokuto sits up from his spot on their living room floor, one elbow propped up to support his body. Y/N sighs, closing her book realizing there’s no way she’ll get the peace she needed.

“Kuroo doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Bo.” It’s only been one week since the mandated quarantine started. If Y/N gives in now, then she’ll only spiral into madness as the months go by.

“Hear that, you bastard?! Y/N-chan believes in me!” Kuroo looks unamused. There’s a shit eating grin on his face that Y/N wants to wipe off. Or punch off. Whichever happens first.

“Y’know what they say, owls of a feather stick together.” Kuroo’s probably referring to the fact that both Y/N and Bokuto attended Fukurodani. Either way, he’s insulting her. Y/N is seething.

“Shut up you cocky cat!” Y/N screeches, flinging her book to his relaxed figure on the floor. Kuroo lets out a groan as the hardcover book makes contact with his groin. “Shit, there goes my future generations.”

Bokuto emphasizes with his bro, placing a protective hand over his ‘lil man.’

During the third week of quarantine, Kuroo comes down with a cold. Or maybe he got the virus. That’s what Bokuto and Y/N are currently trying to figure out.

“Kuroo, man, I searched up your symptoms here and it says you have network connectivity problems. What does that mean?” Bokuto grumbles, aggressively tapping the laptop screen. Y/N scowls at the way he’s manhandling her laptop before snatching it away from his hold.

“That’s not what that means, dumbass.” Bokuto pouts. “It means someone fucking forgot to pay for the wifi for this month.”

Y/N is glaring at her bedridden roommate through her face mask, but the rooster head throws his hands up out of innocence. “Sorry, I was too busy trying not to die!”

“So what now?” Bokuto asks, trying to cut through the tension between his two roommates. Y/N sighs in response, shutting off her laptop. “Now we just have to wait for him to sleep it off. If he has the virus then we burn his room with him in it.”

“Hey!” Kuroo tries to object. Instead what comes out is a garbled noise followed by excessive coughing and Bokuto screeching something about the ‘zombie virus infecting his home,’ and then he bolted out of Kuroo’s room.

“Whatever,” Y/N sighs, knowing Bokuto would have been useless in this situation anyways, “just try to rest. I’ll come in to check on you every now and then to bring you food. You better eat it!”

“Aw, Y/N-chan, you really care about me, huh?” Kuroo fake gushes, pressing one hand on his chest and another on his forehead. “It’s sweet how you try to act all tough.”

“Bo! Go find the lighter!”

Six weeks into the quarantine, Kuroo is over his ‘virus scare’ and now it’s Bokuto who’s sick. Correction, lovesick. It’s starting to test Y/N’s thinning patience.

“Do you think ‘Kaashi would get annoyed if I call him again?”

“Bo, you’ve been facetiming him every single day since this quarantine started. What changed?”

“He hasn’t been messaging me back the last three days! Do you think he got tired of me? Do you think he realized I’ve been in love with him and now he hates me? Do you think he hates my owl memes? Damn, I should’ve just told him before this whole thing started.” Y/N snorts. Clearly. One less headache for her. Even the sight of Kuroo breathing is starting to irk her. One time she nearly slapped him across the head for sleeping on the couch. Quarantine is doing something to her.

“Y/N? Why aren’t you answering? Oh my god, you hate me too, don’t you?” Crap. She was too absorbed in her hatred towards Kuroo’s existence that she forgot this big baby was lying down on her lap crying about something. What was it again? Akaashi hates him? Impossible.

“Impossible.” Y/N doesn’t realize she is running her hand through his two-toned hair. Bokuto hums in content. Y/N is suddenly reminded of her dog from back home. She wonders how he’s doing.

“Keiji’s like, in love with you. If anything he’s probably just drowning in work. You know how busy he gets.” Even Y/N’s not buying it. Busy or not, three days of radio silence from Akaashi has to mean something. She just doesn’t want to deal with an emo Bokuto. She decides to pass the responsibility to Kuroo.

“Bo, I bet Kuroo has some pretty good advice for ya. Remember when he had that crush on Akari-chan for all of highschool?” Bokuto shoots up with a new look of determination. He yells out a ‘you’re the best, Y/N-chan!’ over his shoulders before dashing straight to Kuroo’s room.

Y/N smiles in triumph as she receives a plethora of messages from one very angry Kuroo Tetsurou, ranging from ‘Why would you do this to me?’ to ‘I fucking hate you.’ Serves him right for finishing the ice cream.

(Later they find out that Akaashi simply broke his phone and had to wait three days to get it fixed. Bokuto was over the moon).

Sometimes Y/N wears their highschool jerseys because she thinks they’re comfortable. Some days she wears Bokuto’s. Other days she wears Kuroo’s. Today she’s wearing Bokuto’s, and Kuroo doesn’t know why it’s pissing him off.

“Oh man! That thing looks like a dress on you!” Bokuto squeals like one of his fangirls. He dashes to where she is, minding her business making toast in the kitchen, and picks her up from under her arms a la Lion King style.

“Bo! Put me down, you dumbass!” She wiggles in his hold, legs thrashing around. It’s all meaningless though. Bokuto is a pro athlete and is 190cm. Any attempts to free herself remains futile against this giant man-baby.

“Kuroo, look! So cute!” Bokuto gushes, showing her off like a baby. He lightly loosens his hold on one arm and extends his hand to bring a finger up to her cheeks. Y/N is emitting a strange aura. Kuroo suspects she’ll start tearing his ass into pieces within ten seconds.

Correction, three seconds. Because somehow she figures out how to kick behind her and shove an ankle deep into Bokuto’s groin. Now Bokuto is wriggling around on the living room floor as Y/N returns to her toast.

Kuroo finds this amusing, yet there’s a foreign feeling deep inside his chest. Is he getting sick again? He’s gonna need to check on that later.

“Ou! What ‘ya watching?”

“Your Name.”

“Huh? Bokuto Koutarou. Did you forget?”

“Dude...” Y/N stares at him in disbelief. Bokuto doesn’t notice but that’s because he’s Bokuto, and just about everything flies over his head. Instead he plops down on the couch next to her and hogs all the blanket.

“Get the fuck out! Get your own blanket!” Bokuto doesn’t reply, but he hums and opens his arms as an invitation. Ah, another platonic cuddling, as Bokuto puts it. Y/N is touch starved and she can’t deny it, so she slides closer to his lean figure and lets her head fall on his chest.

Eventually they settle in, huddling impossibly close to each other as the movie reach its tear-jerking climax. They don’t notice Kuroo walk in with a scowl on his face.

“Oh hey, bro. Wanna watch?” Bokuto notices him first, lifting his head up from the crown of Y/N’s head. Y/N finally looks over Bokuto’s chest and spots Kuroo moving around in the kitchen.

“I’m good.” Is his short answer before he trudges to his room with a loud bang! from his door. Y/N flinches a little, but pays no mind to it. Instead she directs her focus back to the movie, where another sad scene is unfolding.

The movie reaches its ending, but not before Bokuto could ask, “So, what’s the actual title of the movie?”

One peaceful afternoon Bokuto decides to take in a stray cat. Except...

“Bokuto, you fucking idiot that’s a racoon!” Y/N screeches as she climbs Kuroo’s back. The rooster head screams as he backs away from Bokuto and ‘Mr. Fluffles.’ Bokuto stares at his frightened roommates and the ‘cat’ in his hand and then back at his roommates again.

Realization strikes, and now Bokuto is screeching with the other two, holding the raccoon as far away from his body as possible.

“If you fucking drop it, I’ll kill you!” Kuroo threatens, holding onto Y/N’s arm that’s starting to dig into his throat. “Take it outside!”

“But it’s raining!”

“Bokuto!”

“It’s you or him, man!”

The two continue their little back-and-forth, not noticing the raccoon had escaped Bokuto’s grasp. But Y/N notices. And it’s heading into her room. And now she’s seeing God.

“Bokuto, gah-!” Kuroo is rudely interrupted by Y/N’s tight hold on his throat getting tighter. Before he could give her hell for attempted murder, he notices the look of horror on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Your fucking raccoon went in my bedroom!”

“Ah shit!” Both Kuroo and Bokuto scramble, the former forgetting all about the human person hanging onto his back. Said person is too scared of letting her foot touch the floor, afraid that it might be met by the furry abomination Bokuto brought home. So she kinda just...lets Kuroo run off into her room with her dangling off his neck.

“Where’d he go?!” Bokuto panics, not seeing Mr. Fluffles anywhere in his immediate vicinity. He starts flinging stuff off the ground and her table and her bed, making a huge mess in the span of ten seconds. Y/N takes one foot off of Kuroo’s waist and kicks him square in the back.

“Quit trashing my room!” She scolds like a mom. Bokuto pouts but continues looking, until they hear the quiet pitter patter of claws hitting the wooden floor. “Wait shut up!”

Y/N huffs but still complies, wanting nothing more than Mr. Fluffles gone from her room. Kuroo takes the liberty to start questioning Bokuto’s stupidity.

“How could you have possibly thought that thing was a fucking cat?!”

“In my defense, it was pretty dark outside.” Bokuto grumbles in his low and whiny voice, before firing back, “And stop calling him a ‘thing!’ Mr. Fluffles has feelings too!”

“Bokuto we’re not keeping it!” This time it’s Y/N yelling at him with fire in her eyes. The poor guy looks like he’s about to cry, but Y/N is far too gone over the thought of a raccoon making its home in her bedroom.

Bokuto lets out an ‘aha!’ as he emerges from under her bed with Mr. Fluffles. Y/N visibly relaxes knowing that the raccoon is safely contained. Until she remembers what was stashed under her bed.

“Ah, there’s something in his mouth.” Bokuto announces, holding Mr. Fluffles disgustingly close to his face. Her secret stash of snacks. The bastard got into it.

“Bokuto!!!”

(They later find out that at least four neighbors filed a noise complaint against them).

It’s two months in to the quarantine when Bokuto discovers TikTok. Within one week he’s dropped his towel in front of Kuroo, sat on Kuroo’s lap during his work Zoom meeting, smacked his gym bag across Kuroo’s face, and then some. Y/N finds humor in this, of course at Kuroo’s expense, but that’s even better.

Speaking of Kuroo and Y/N. Lately there’s been undeniable tension between his two roommates, and Bokuto doesn’t know how to resolve it. Everytime he tries to get them to talk they end up arguing.

He’s asked Akaashi for advice, but Akaashi simply told him to let them resolve it amongst themselves. Bokuto does not have the patience for that. He’s scared their meaningless arguments might rip a tear into their ten year long friendship.

So Bokuto does what he thinks is best, bake them cookies! No one could possibly be in a bad mood while eating freshly baked cookies, even Bokuto is drooling at the thought. So with a new resolve, Bokuto scrolls through his new favorite app (TikTok) to find some good recipes. Because TikTok has all the answers.

Except when he bakes the cookies he later finds out he used two cups of salt instead of sugar. He doesn’t know how that happened, but it could be because he grabbed the first white substance he saw and dumped it in the bowl.

Kuroo and Y/N somehow found a way to blame each other. Bokuto is reaching his limits.

Bokuto calls for an emergency meeting. He needs help deciding whether or not he should drop 40,000¥ on the Animal Crossing Limited Edition Switch that comes with Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

Y/N says go for it because she’s secretly plotting on stealing it the moment he gets tired of the game (which knowing Bokuto, would be fairly quick). Kuroo objects because Bokuto blew 50,000¥ last month buying shit he didn’t need for the quarantine.

And now there’s a fullblown argument between the two. Bokuto is reminded of his parents, except their fights never got this hostile and he’s pretty sure his mom never called his dad a “rooster-hair bastard!” He’s too scared to cut in. He thinks they might cut off his head. So he decides to sneakily crawl back into his room.

He ends up ordering the switch anyways, and when it arrives a week later Kuroo calls Y/N a bad influence. They argue again.

Bokuto has an epiphany.

Two days after Bokuto’s epiphany, they take a trip to the supermarket. Bokuto wants to drive but he can’t because his license got revoked after he ran through five consecutive red lights. Kuroo tells him this but he gets pouty so Kuroo had to buy him ice cream on the way there to get him to shut up.

So now Bokuto is slobbering up Kuroo’s car, much to the latter’s distaste. It isn’t until Kuroo brake checks him and Bokuto slams the ice cream on his face, does Kuroo show a look of content. Bokuto pays no mind, and decides to bring up his recent epiphany.

“So, bro, when are ya gonna tell Y/N you’re in love with her?” Kuroo slams his foot on the brakes again, this time out of shock. “I - uh - what - what did you just say?”

“Oh man,” Bokuto lets out a boisterous laugh while licking the ice cream that dripped down his shirt (gross), “you didn’t know?!”

“You two have had this sexual tension between you brewing for weeks! It’s like - I could actually cut through it with a knife, like a piece of pie or something!”

“I hate everything you just said.”

“Whatever man, just let me know if you want me gone for the night. I’ll even come up with a good excuse.” He winks, and Kuroo resists the urge to crash the car into a tree.

Bokuto’s words affect Kuroo a lot more than he would like to admit. Ever since that fateful trip to the supermarket with his owl-eyed friend, Kuroo’s been too wary of his other roommates existence. He wants to prove Bokuto wrong. He, Kuroo Tetsurou, is not in love with L/N Y/N, his best friend since his first year of highschool.

L/N Y/N is one of the guys! That’s like saying he likes Bokuto (Kuroo bites back his disgust). And Kuroo doesn’t like Bokuto, thank you very much.

Except L/N Y/N is not Bokuto.

L/N Y/N is his endless highschool memories that he always goes back to on a bad day. She is going to the beach during the summer and playing in the ocean until they tire themselves out. She’s like a warm hug that welcomes him after a long and tiring say. She’s like the rock that was flung at his ex’s window after she cheated on him with some other guy. She’s like the fun he’s had during the summer away games, where he got to play volleyball with his friends for one week straight. She’s like taking the long way home just so he could walk back with her. L/N Y/N is his best friend.

No, Y/N is not all those things. She is, however, the person he’s shared those memories with. The person Kuroo could say one hundred percent, without a doubt, knows him best (aside from Bokuto and maybe his mom). She’s the person that’s always been there through thick or thin, for ten years and counting.

Oh god. Kuroo Tetsurou is in love with L/N Y/N.

Bokuto has a plan in mind. A plan to help his two best friends hook up (and maybe date afterwards). Bokuto tells Akaashi his plans but Akaashi tells him all his plans are moronic, so he goes to his teammates Hinata and Atsumu, who says he’s a genius.

(The plan is simple: make Kuroo jealous. That bastard is as possessive as a dog over his food).

Which is how he finds himself seated at the kitchen table, phone in hand with a disgusted Y/N right across from him.

“No, you’re not giving my number to Miya Atsumu. That guy has shifty eyes!”

“Come on, you’ll learn how to love it! ‘Sides, Tsumu-tsumu is a nice guy! Did’ya really think I’d set my bestest friend in the world up with some sketchy guy?” If Bokuto’s normal talking voice is at a hundred, he’s talking at a hundred twenty now, just to make sure Kuroo can hear him from his room.

Y/N presses her palms to her ears, not really questioning why he’s talking so damn loud. Instead she blackmails him. “Bokuto if you don’t stop I’ll send Keiji all your embarrassing pictures from our first year.”

“You wouldn’t!”

But the look in her eyes says she would. And the ping! sound that came from her phone says that she just did. “Y/N!” Bokuto cries out, scrambling incredibly fast to his room where he left his phone plugged in, hoping he could stop Akaashi from witnessing the embarrassment that is Bokuto Koutarou as a fifteen year old.

Moments after Bokuto bolted to his room and is screaming out, “‘Kaashi! Block Y/N-chan right now! Don’t open her texts!” Kuroo steps out of his bedroom, having been shamelessly eavesdropping on their previous conversation.

“So,” He leans over the kitchen counter (he thinks he looks like hot shit but Y/N begs to differ), “Miya Atsumu, huh?” Her face contorts into something out of digust or discomfort, he can’t tell which one. Is it bad for him to say he likes that reaction? Probably.

“Don’t.” Is her short response, bringing up a hand in front of her body. “If Bokuto thinks I’m desperate enough to go for one of his teammates, then I’ve got a surprise for him. No offense to Shouyou.”

“So what I’m hearing is...it’s not the aspect of being in a relationship you’re totally against, but the guy himself?” Kuroo thinks out loud. Y/N throws him one of her infamous ‘what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about’ looks, but he feigns ignorance to it.

“I mean, yeah? I haven’t had a good fuck since-” Kuroo decides to cut her off there, not really eager to learn the name of the man she’s...well, you get it! (Bokuto was right, this man truly is possessive).

“Anyways, good choice. I heard the other twin is where it’s at.” Kuroo ends the conversation there, with new knowledge about his new found crush and confidence over the fact that he still has a chance.

A week goes by just like that. Bokuto makes it painfully obvious he’s trying to make Kuroo jealous. Except painfully obvious is not obvious enough for his slightly-frustrating friend, Y/N.

At one point, when obviously Atsumu didn’t serve much of a threat to Kuroo (curse that idiot for being too easy to mock), Bokuto took matters into his own hands and tried flirting with Y/N himself. And while Bokuto is a lot of things, being smooth isn’t one of them. There’s a reason why he hasn’t made whatever he has with Akaashi official yet, he’s terrible at relationships and anything related to it.

(Though Kuroo had a riot witnessing Bokuto’s failed attempts at heterosexual flirting:

“So, you come here often?”

“Bo, I fucking live here.”).

And as much as Bokuto wants to just go out with it and announce to Y/N (and the world) that his totally radical bro, Kuroo Tetsurou, is in love with her, he has just about enough self control and conscience to know that doing that could only result in his immediate death at the hands of a very angry rooster-head. So he’s just been beating around the bush. For a week he’s tried to drop subtle hints that were, sadly, left dropped by Y/N. She’s almost as helpess as Bokuto. Almost.

But when an opportunity like this falls on his lap, Bokuto just knows he has to take it.

It’s at one of their annual roommate-bonding, a tradition they’ve held since moving in together during college. This time Kuroo is unable to join due to some hold-up at work. He’s in his room furiously typing away at his computer.

“So...” He makes sure to drag out the last vowel to gain her interest. Though it’s pretty useless since Y/N is as easy to fool as Bokuto himself. They’re best friends for a reason. A very bad reason, one might say.

“So what?” She asks, shoving about ten pieces of popcorn in her mouth all at once. Bokuto realizes he is tired of beating around the bush. He decides to set the metaphorical bush on fire. “Admit it, Y/N. You like Kuroo, don’t ‘ya? You wanna screw him or something?”

“Shh!” Suddenly Y/N is more invested in whatever Bokuto has to say than the shitty movie he picked out. And now she’s launched herself off her side of the couch onto his, pressing a greasy, buttery palm to his lips.

Bokuto easily swipes her hand away with a shit eating grin on his face. “So I was right! Which one is it? ‘Ya like him? Or you wanna screw him?”

“Bokuto!” She warns. Her eyes dart to Kuroo’s closed bedroom door, suddenly too aware of just now thin these walls actually are. It also didn’t help that Bokuto’s normal speaking voice is about as loud as a race car engine.

She realizes there’s no point in hiding it, since he’s looking at her with those creepy owl eyes, just daring her not to spill everything. “How’d you even find out?” She sighs in defeat.

“Come on! You’ve been so irritated lately that there was only two possible explanations: ya either love the guy or hate his guts. I don’t think you’d be friends with him for ten years if you hated him so much.” Y/N blinks in surprise. That’s surprisingly perceptive, coming from Bokuto. She tells him this.

“Hey! I’m capable of using my head too!” He doesn’t like how she’s giving him that judgement look. Clearing his throat, Bokuto decides to skip past that.

“So? Since when did ‘ya like the lucky bastard?” Bokuto expects one month, maybe two at best. What he didn’t expect was this: “Probably since highschool.”

“Wha-?!” His outburst is contained by a smaller body flying on top of his, as well as two palms pressed tightly over his mouth. Eyes wide, he looks down to see a flustered Y/N, pink cheeks and all, looking menacingly at Kuroo’s door, trying to see if he heard any of that.

Once she confirms she’s in the clear, she lets out the breath she’s been holding and smacks Bokuto across his biceps.

“Idiot! Don’t just scream like that!” She huffs, arms crossed at her chest. “I told you ‘cus I trust you, Bo. Don’t do anything stupid with that trust.” The man simply nods, still too shocked to form coherent words.

Once he does however, Y/N is hit with an onslaught of whispered questions. “Since when? How come I didn’t notice? How come anyone didn’t notice? Why-” He pauses, realizing his questions aren’t being answered. So he waits as she brings her legs up to her chest with an unreadable expression.

“I mean it was pretty easy to hide it. We went to different schools, and whenever we hung out you were always there,” Y/N starts, but quickly adds, “I mean, not like I didn’t want you there! It’s just - it was easier to forget I even liked him whenever the three of us were together.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, probably still wary of the fact that Kuroo was only one room over. Bokuto notices this and turns up the volume of the TV, earning a small smile from his nervous wreck of a friend.

“At one point I was actually gonna tell him, but then he started dating Akari-chan.” Bokuto scowls at the name. Akari, the girl that Kuroo crushed on for a full year, but also the girl that ended up cheating on him with some guy in her painting club. “I wasn’t really the type to cry over a small crush, I had other things to do. Actually I was kind of relieved. Kuroo being taken meant I didn’t have to act on these weird feelings I started having.”

“And next thing I knew we were off to college. I started dating other people, and my feelings for him started shrinking. Even when we decided to move in together, we were all so busy with our separate lives, so I wasn’t really worried about it...until, y’know, we kinda got stuck here together. I guess seeing him 24/7 just caused my head to malfunction. I thought fighting with him would stop these weird...feelings, from coming back. But I guess that backfired on me since you ended up finding out. Wait - Bokuto are you crying?”

The said man tucks his head in his arms, mumbling out “No,” even though it was pretty obvious. Y/N softly smiles, finding his reaction kind of cute. It was nice to know he cares that much, no matter how infuriating he could get.

“I didn’t even know you went through that much, Y/N-chan. C’mere! Lemme give you a hug!”

“Bokuto, no! I don’t need-” The rest of her complaints are drowned out by a sturdy chest meeting her face. Great. Bokuto’s way too emotional now.

“I’m sorry, I promise I’ll help you tell him!”

“Wait what? I don’t want that!” Y/N tries to argue, but her voice is muffled due to being stuffed into his chest. Suddenly remembering that Bokuto has a tendency to be a loud mouth and could never keep a secret from Kuroo, Y/N shoots up, pressing her palms to his chest to release herself from his hold.

“Bo, you have to promise me you won’t tell him anything.”

“But -”

“Bokuto!” He slightly recoils from the sternness of her voice, before he bows his head and nods. Y/N relaxes a bit, settling back into her previous position and fixed her focus back to the movie playing on the TV as if their previous conversation never happened.

Unbeknownst to her, Bokuto is already putting the pieces together for his master plan.

Y/N comes to regret telling Bokuto her ‘dirty’ little secret exactly one week later, at their next roommate-bonding. This time Kuroo is there, with Bokuto right in between them on the couch. There’s another shitty movie playing in the background (curtesy of Bokuto’s horrible choice in films), but Y/N can’t bring herself to pay attention.

She does however, snap out of her little daydream when Bokuto shoots up, phone in hand and reaching for the door. Oh no. Both Kuroo and Y/N think to themselves.

“Ah! What’s this?! There’s an emergency at ‘Kaashi’s apartment?! Guys, I’ll be right back!” Bokuto is out the door before either of them could object. Y/N knows Akaashi. Akaashi is a safe guy. He’s not the type to call out of nowhere because of an emergency, and even if he did, Bokuto surely would not be the first contact in mind. Which means, Bokuto, that sneaky bastard, planned this with the single brain cell he had left.

Silence fills the air for the next five minutes, until Kuroo’s phone sounds off. It’s a text from Bokuto, reading: When I come back you two better be-

Kuroo decides to turn off his phone there, fearing the contents of the very explicit paragraph Bokuto sent following those words. Instead he turns his head to his friend next to him - or rather on the opposite side of the couch, avoiding him like he’s the plague.

He doesn’t like this awkwardness at all. Conversation between them used to always just flow, even if most of them end up becoming a heated debate over the most trivial things. Kuroo decides to man up. It’s now or never.

“Okay so -” “Hey -” The two pause, finally making eye contact for the first time in past week. All of Kuroo’s brain cells fly out his brain and out the window, leaving him to fend off for himself in this awkward situation. His head is like that one Spongebob meme. Oh god, he’s turning into Bokuto-

“So,” Y/N’s voice snaps him out of his train of thoughts, or rather his lack of it. This is pathetic. He’s a grown man and he’s acting like a highschooler over a pathetic crush. Except this isn’t a pathetic crush. This is Y/N - his best friend for the past ten years, who he’s just now realized is a lot prettier than he initially thought.

“I’m in love with you.” Yes, yes he is. Wait, that wasn’t his voice. And that definitely wasn’t his subconscious trying to patch up what’s left of his decimated ego, which means -

“Kuroo?” Jesus fuck, when did she even slide over this close? “You don’t have to answer or anything, I just thought I should tell you first before Bokuto breaks. I understand if you don’t feel the same way-”

“No!” She flinches at how loud his voice is. “I mean, fuck - wait. You gotta let me process this real quick.” Kuroo is suddenly aware he’s redder than his Nekoma jersey, and her face is super close to his, and her lips look totally kissable right now.

“I’m in love with you, too.” Kuroo finally speaks up. He notices how she goes stiff, and how quickly her face turns into a bright shade of red.

“You don’t have to say it just ‘cus you feel bad! This doesn’t have to change anything between us! I mean, I’ve kept it a secret for ten years, I can do ten more-”

“Y/N.” She finally stops her rambling, meeting his eyes. And she doesn’t know why, but suddenly she just knows he’s being sincere. She could probably die right now and she’d say she lived a happy life.

“I’m gonna kiss you now.” Kuroo waits for her confirmation, in this case a shy nod, before cupping her cheeks with his large and warm hands. He inches over slowly at first, but lets his lips eagerly meet hers with a smile. He feels her hands wrap around his waist, letting him deepen the kiss.

It starts of slow and steady, everything Y/N could have ever dreamed of, until needy hands start roaming her body. She has to crane her neck to meet his lips, and Kuroo probably sensed her discomfort because now he’s gripping her waist tightly, lifting her up gently and placing her down on his lap.

The new and more comfortable position allows Kuroo to deepen the kiss, and Y/N finds her hands grabbing the hair she’s been insulting so much for the past two months. Kuroo sighs into the kiss, with Y/N smiling a bit at the situation. As things escalate, a loud gasp breaks them out of their trance.

“Oh. My. God!” Bokuto is squealing like an idiot and Akaashi is behind him unamused. “Finally.” Is his short statement.

“What the fuck Bokuto!” Kuroo growls. Y/N, suddenly a bit too self conscious climbs off the spot she made for herself on Kuroo’s lap. Though her embarrassment doesn’t last long, before she joins Kuroo in glaring at Bokuto.

“I just came back ‘cus I forgot my wallet, but oh man! You guys are adorable!” Akaashi is still behind him, but this time he looks more apologetic. “Bokuto-san, maybe we should leave.”

“Nah, I kinda wanna stay.”

“Bokuto!”

“Get the fuck out!” Bokuto only laughs as he catches both the pillow and the remote control thrown at him. He drops both items back down on the living room floor and snatches his wallet from the counter before calling over his shoulders,

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure ya make me the best man and the maid of honor!”

A/N. Reupload! This fic was totally self-indulgent bc I am so bored of quarantine and am currently wishing I had a Bokuto and Kuroo to keep me entertained. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And as always, thank you for reading! Leave a like if you...liked it? Is that how it goes? - chuu

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istheresomebodywhocanimagine · 4 years

Text

Everybody Knows (SMUT)

tabseus said: Hi :) First of all, I really enjoy reading your fics! Could you maybe write one with ben hardy x reader where they are a couple and have some kind of fight because Ben overheard reader talking with her girls about hers and Ben‘s sex life. Although all the reader is saying is really positive, Ben does not want them to know about it. Could end with smut maybe :)? (a/n: holy SHIT this only took me 5 years. this is the NYM spinoff piece, where it can be read as a separate piece, but I’d really advise you go back and read NYM if you haven’t!!! i’ll link the previous parts below. this baby is almost 11k, so don’t think you’re in for some light reading rn hehe. get ready for angsty ben and eventual makeup smut bc we all love a good makeup smut)

NYM Part 1 | NYM Part 2 | NYM Part 3 | NYM Part 4

"Yeah, breaker one-nine, this here's the Rubber Duck, you got a copy on me? Over."

"The fact that you have the Convoy theme song memorized so clearly is both impressive and troubling," you teased, letting go of the push-to-talk button and waiting for Joe's response as you sat the walkie talkie down on your counter, reaching up above your head to try and retrieve the bag of white cheddar popcorn. You'd stuffed it in the top of the cabinet after grocery shopping this morning, telling yourself you'd save it for a rainy day and not snack on it all the time. Alas, your attempt to put it out-of-sight, out-of-mind had lasted less than 12 hours before you were scrambling to pull the bag down and devour it all in one go - Joe had just gotten back from an extended filming period and after napping the day away, he convinced you to come over and get fucked up on some shitty liquor while catching him up on the latest NYC happenings. The white cheddar popcorn craving had happened after the fact, as you were coming down from your brief buzz already - the liquor was shitty enough to keep you from drinking much, while Joe was more than happy to pick up your slack. The walkie talkie remained silent, and you furrowed your eyebrows, pausing in your embarrassing struggle for the popcorn to snatch up the small black receiver and press the PTT button again. "Joey? You alive?" More radio silence, then finally a crackling and a slurred response. "You didn't say over. Over."

Staring ahead at the cabinet for a moment, you slowly closed your eyes and started laughing, shaking your head. "You're a fucking dumbass. Over."

"Well, someone's a bitch. Over." "Who is he calling a bitch?" Ben's quiet, gravelly voice suddenly appeared behind you, and you startled a bit as you whirled around to find a very heavy-lidded, scruffy-looking Ben standing there. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was just sleepy - but he'd also been over at Joe's getting white-girl wasted, and the rosiness of his cheeks betrayed that very fact as he shuffled forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and enveloping you in a warm hug that trapped you between the counter and him. "I thought you were still over there, I was just going to be a second," you murmured, running your hand over the back of his unruly blonde hair and smoothing it down before letting your hand come to rest on the nape of his neck. He shook his head, mumbling something incoherent as he pressed his face into your neck, nuzzling it gently and making you smile. Such a baby. Taking a deep breath, you let out a long exhale before pressing a soft, quick kiss to the side of his head and murmuring, "He was calling me a bitch." Humming in response, he blindly lifted a hand to reach for the walkie talkie, and when he'd clumsily stolen it from your grasp, he lifted his head just enough to speak into the receiver as he held the button down. His chin pressed into your shoulder as he talked, making you smile and turn to press a lingering kiss to his cheek. "Stop bullying my girlfriend or I'll come back over there and wallop you." "You didn't say over either," Joe pointed out snarkily, and you rolled your eyes as Ben chuckled softly and resumed burying his face in your neck, sitting the walkie talkie down. Returning his hand to your back, his thumb ran light circles across your skin just under the hem of your shirt, making a sharp thrill run through your body due to your still-mildly intoxicated state. As much as you wanted to stay there forever and mooch off of Ben's body heat, you remembered the white cheddar popcorn calling your name - so with some difficulty, you managed to start peeling Ben's arms off of you, giggling knowingly when he let out an unhappy groan. "Go back over there. I'll be back in a minute." Pulling away slowly, he didn't look too pleased and grumbled to himself as he shuffled off to Joe's again with his phone charger now in hand.

“Love you!” you called after him, which he reciprocated only after shooting you a playful glare over his shoulder. Grinning, you watched as he stepped out onto the balcony and blew you a kiss before flipping you off and disappearing around the corner with the smile.

It took climbing on the counter for you to reach the bag of popcorn in the cabinet, but you managed to get it down and not sprain your ankle getting off the counter, so you took a minute to participate in a victory dance that would have surely been mocked if you were over on the other side of that wall separating you and the boys. A pleased smile played at your lips as you pranced back over to Joe's, only tripping once or twice. Losing your balance? That was another story. You almost biffed it when you rounded Ben's couch, over-calculating the turn and nearly ending up on your ass. Of course, even sober, you were still just getting used to Ben's couch being there instead of yours. His was nice, a grey microfiber sectional - "For the dog," he'd insisted, even though you told him time and time again that it wasn't a pet-friendly apartment and you didn't have a dog. But he'd brought it anyways, and it had replaced your poor, flaky pleather excuses for furniture. In fact, there were a lot of touches of Ben in this apartment now that he'd moved in. It had been a year since you started seeing each other, and around month ten of Ben constantly being over at your or Joe's place (as in, every moment he wasn't filming), his lease was about up and he was apartment hunting again. Then it hit you - why was he going to get another place if he was just staying at yours all the time? You'd felt so blind, you were almost reluctant to bring it up to Ben in fear that his response might be along the lines of 'took you long enough' - but you had conveniently forgotten that Ben was an even more oblivious dumbass than you were. Instead of a condescending 'oh, you finally put two and two together?', Ben had looked at you, very obviously shocked, then laughed and kissed your head repeatedly between mumblings about you being 'so smart' and 'such a catch.' Humming to yourself, you pulled open the bag of popcorn just as you crossed the threshold into Joe's living room. Ben was sleeping away on the couch while Joe looked one step away from dead, his eyes glossed over as he stared up at an episode of Big Mouth he'd probably seen no less than 5 times already. The dab pen perched neatly on the end table between the two of them said all you needed to know, and you narrowed your eyes a bit as you chomped on the popcorn, Joe slowly turning his bloodshot gaze in your direction and smiling placidly as you spoke. "Wow. You look fucking stoned, dude." "Welcome back.... I see you've decided not to share your snacks with us. Bitch." "I told you to stop calling her a bitch." Ben's voice was muffled - he barely gave the effort to even move his mouth enough to speak clearly, his face squished up against the couch and eyes not even opening an inch as he reached out in your general direction weakly. His fingers did the grabby thing that made your heart do flips as you padded over to the couch, Ben sitting up just long enough for you to get yourself comfortable on the end of the couch, and then his head was plopping down on your lap again. You felt his cheek press a little harder against your thigh as he readjusted so he was comfortable, and then he was back to practically comatose. Sitting your bag of popcorn to the side, you used one hand to keep feeding yourself while the other ran through Ben's hair repeatedly, his breathing slowing down until he was fast asleep. Joe kept quiet, only snickering at crass Big Mouth jokes occasionally and never letting his eyes leave the screen. It was a serene night, an oddly quiet one shared between the three of you - usually, at least two of you were yelling, so the absence of noise was relaxing. As much as you hated to break it, you had to, because the pen between you and Joe was making you curious. Multiple questions were dancing around your tongue like they were on hot coals, urged out by the slowly-dwindling buzz making your head spin a bit as you reached out for the pen. "Did you suddenly come down with some shit that requires the healing effects of THC?" Picking it up, you rolled it around in your hand for a second before sitting it back down. "Shit looks fancy." "Fancy? And I got it from Tori," Joe answered without looking away from the screen, his jaw still a little slack as he struggled to focus on you and the show. "She went out-of-state for some fancy art curator shit and came back with it. Knocks you on your ass, it does." "Okay, Yoda," you laughed, Joe rolling his eyes back in his head and trying not to smile before scoffing. "Can't you buy them in the city anyway? "Yeah, but can you buy the stuff for it in the city?" he retorted. He had you there, and you gave him a grin and a shrug before he rolled his eyes and continued. "Are you even old enough to be making Star Wars references, kid?" "Oh, shut up," you dismissed, not wanting to get in a fight with cross-faded Joe. Rolling your eyes when he mocked you quietly, you decided to reroute the conversation again. "So when are you just gonna bite the bullet and make it official with your favorite art curator? You were all about preaching just doing it to Ben and I last year, where's that energy now?" "Where's that energy now?" he mimicked, clearly at a loss for comebacks, and you snorted at his childishness, but a lengthy sigh from him made you think it was less of a 'fuck you' and more of an aversion. The question seemed to trouble him, and he was deathly quiet for a minute before speaking. "This may just be high me speaking, but I think I'm in a rut right now and she doesn't even know it. So I don't want to trap her if it's not going to work out... in all aspects." "Uh oh, has erectile dysfunction finally set in? I heard that when you get ancient, things like that happen." Joe's clear annoyance couldn't stifle your laughter as soon as you finished your sentence, but he waited for you quiet down a bit before he spoke over you. "If I didn't feel like I was melted into this chair like the wax dripping off of a fine soy candle right now, I'd come over there with a fifty-five-gallon drum of ass-whooping and pour it all over you." "Jesus, it was a joke!" you laughed, tossing one of his smaller decorative pillows at him playfully and bursting into another round of laughter when he threw it back at you harder, acting like he wasn't in the mood for your games even though the smile plastered on his face said otherwise. "I'm sorry, buddy, I'll be nice now. Why do you think you're in a rut?" "I just... I don't think I'm doing it for her, you know?" he sighed, his fingers curling up on the armrests as he seemed to melt even more into the chair. Then, an amused giggle escaped him, almost like clockwork, and he grinned in spite of his words. "Like she seems into it, but my brain keeps telling me that every time we're having sex that she's wishing she was hooking up with someone a lot... younger. And adventurous. Like a young Steve Irwin. Mister Danger." Though Joe wasn't too shy about his sex life, you were still shocked to hear him being so open about such a vulnerable part of it - usually, your conversations about your respective sex lives were just complaints and laments. So, it warmed your heart to hear that Joe was concerned about his end of the game - as much as your friend's sex life through Steve Irwin metaphors could warm your heart, of course. Looking down at Ben, you smiled a bit and brushed a stray hair back from his face, his nose twitching a bit and lips smacking together lazily. For a moment, you thought he was awake, but his breathing showed no signs of speeding up, so you wrote it off as sleepy twitches and looked back up at Joe, still running your fingers through Ben's hair soothingly. "As much as I hate hearing you use Steve Irwin as a sexual comparison to yourself... why did you start thinking that?" "Well, the other day, she brought up the fact that we're both Virgos. At first, I thought that she called us both virgins, and I laughed, but... not the same thing," he admitted in a small voice, but you didn't even attempt to muffle your amused giggles, much to his chagrin. Sighing and burying his face in his hands for a second, Joe let out a long groan before shaking his head and dropping his hands to his lap again. "And I don't completely know what it has to do with our sex lives at all, but she mentioned our compatibility in passing and I just... I feel bad. She was reading something about how Virgo women like to communicate how they're feeling, and I really don't think we're communicating like we should be. Or maybe I'm just overthinking it. Which she also said-" "Yeah, that's a Virgo thing. She's right," you cut in, already knowing what he was going to say, and he narrowed his eyes a bit before huffing at the fact you were apparently siding with Tori. "Virgos are supposed to be so good at communicating! What's the hold-up, Mister 'Talk to Ben or I'm gonna go nuts"? You were all about talking it out last year." "I don't know, I think my mind's just fucking dumb and manic- wait no, not manicure. Manuscript? Jesus Christ, what's the word? Mani-man.... Manifested! Manifested. My mind manifested this block on its own. Do you ever do that? Like, just worry that you're just not doing enough and they're too scared or too pissed off to say anything about it? But then you're too scared to say anything because talking about... your sex life makes you nervous as shit? Because what if she doesn't actually want to talk about it?" Nodding along as he spoke, you considered your life in the bedroom with Ben. Did you have that concern? It was a valid question, one that made your face screw up in thought for a minute before you finally spoke, your fingers brushing Ben's hair back again. "Not really. Ben's pretty open about what works for him and what doesn't work for him, I think. Maybe we both are? I guess we just communicate more than I'm used to, but it really works in the long run." Joe stared deadpan at you, not seeming as if he understood a single word you said, and you raised an eyebrow in challenge. "What? Are you fucking deaf?" "No, I'm just... not sure I was prepared to hear about your sex life with Big Ben. It's so different when it's... well, him." Rolling your eyes, you prepared to stand up, already done with this conversation, but Joe was quick to raise his hands in surrender and stutter out an apology amidst delirious laughter. "No, no no, sit back down! I'm sorry- shit, I'm sorry, I just had to get that out. Keep going, I'm listening." "You need to talk to Tori," you replied matter-of-factly, and the familiar sentiment echoed in your brain, reminding you of a simpler time - a time when Ben was just Joe's dorky, fit friend who came around sometimes and made you laugh at how awkward he could be. Now, he was your boyfriend waking you up in the morning begging you to make almond flour pancakes with him just so he could cover his hand in flour and smack your ass to leave a handprint. At least you knew the 'talk to them' advice was effective. "I know it sounds hypocritical, but you need to ask her about what she's into and what she isn't into. That way you can know what gets her going and what you need to steer away from." "What, like missionary vs. cowgirl?" Joe asked incredulously, and you had to laugh at the naiveté of assuming that sex positions alone would be enough. Were you shocked that a straight cis man was saying this, though? Not really. (Ben was a surprising exception, and you were eternally grateful for it.) "Good god, she- oh my god, I'm sorry I'm laughing. I don't mean to be an asshole, it just happens," you giggled, moving your hand to Ben's back and rubbing relaxing circles into it when he twitched in his sleep again. "You're going to have to get real comfortable here because the only way I know how to explain this is to talk about blondie here." "Fuck, hold on," Joe grimaced, looking straight forward out of the balcony door for a second. His expressions incredibly exaggerated from how high he was at the moment, you could see every step in his process of compartmentalizing all the inner turmoil hearing about his friend's sex life was going to cause before finally nodding slowly, not losing the grimace. "Okay, go." "I think first you need to see if she likes to be in control. Like, dominate." "Um, I don't think so? No, she isn't the dominant one in bed," Joe observed, his words slow as he thought-extra hard, probably just to make sure he was right and not just so high he was imagining things. "But I guess I don't know for sure. What do you mean?" "So like, when Ben and I have sex, I'm the dom-" "Hold on!" Joe interrupted, pretending to gag as he lurched forward dramatically, hamming it up while you watched in unamused silence. When he'd finished his dramatics, he waved for you to continue. "Alright, got that out of my system. You're the dominant one?" "Yeah?" you drawled out slowly, unsure how that wasn't the most obvious thing in the world right now. Ben's face was smooshed up against your thigh, his lips slightly parted as his shallow breathing continued. He was unnervingly beautiful like this, a sweet little soft boy aura to him that always carried over into the bedroom very smoothly - his suave, strong-armed facade hardly held up behind closed doors. Smiling a bit in awe of how precious he looked undisturbed, you stopped rubbing his back and reached for your phone, pulling up Chrome. In the meantime, Joe had narrowed his eyes, still dubious and harboring doubts over whether you were just bullshitting him right now or not. "What's not clicking? Are you forgetting that I literally had to make the first move?" "Yeah, but I figured it was just because he was being shy... like, how does he not dominate when he could easily sit on you and suffocate you with his muscles?" Joe flexed for emphasis, but it did little to drive his point home as you were already laughing at his blissful ignorance, pausing in clicking on a Google link about Virgos and compatibility. In the midst of your fit of laughter, though, he gasped and let out a strangled shriek as he sat up a bit. "Does that mean you peg him?" "No!" You almost choked on the ensuing laughter, feeling like your face was red hot from the exertion of trying to catch your breath, and Joe let out an audible, very exaggerated sigh of relief as he sunk back into the chair. "Why would you even ask that if you knew you wouldn't like the other answer?" "Just.... if you ever peg him, don't tell me. Please," he begged, and with a laugh, you agreed. "Promise. Although I can't promise you I won't suffocate him when I sit on his f-" "Stop! It's gone too far!" Joe shrieked, trying to stand up, but he came to the realization that he was rooted in his place. His eyes widened with absolute fear that his limbs were essentially jello from the concentrated THC ravaging his nervous system at the moment, and you almost couldn't contain your delight as you stifled laugh after laugh. "Oh my God. Oh my Godddd. Fuck. This is my worst nightmare. I'm stuck here listening to you talk about pegging my poor friend." "I'm not pegging Ben, dude!" you refuted, giggling incredulously and pressing your hands to your face in mild exasperation. "I've already told you that. I just... I don't get crazy, but you know, take charge! I subtly control the situation. He's totally a bitch when it comes down to it... and I love it so much! It's not a bad thing." Joe groaned as he sunk deeper into the chair, looking like he wished it would swallow him whole before he reluctantly continued. "So I need to figure out what dynamics she likes." "Yeah, that's the word!" you cheered, feeling Ben stir on your lap a little, and you wondered if Joe's mini-heart attack had awoken him. "Start with that, and then work from there. This website says 'The Virgo male-Virgo female compatibility will include a great love life, if and only if, there is no gap in their communication aspect.'" Pursing your lips, you paused before reading down a little bit and continuing to read out loud. "The Virgo couple has to make sure that they, do not overthink about their problems, are more relaxed, and that they communicate their problems by sharing and accepting each other the way they are.' See? It all comes a lot easier- sex comes a lot easier when you can communicate and be honest about what tickles your fancy." "Please stop talking about tickling anything." Joe's pleading tone was worth a laugh, but you held it back for his sake as you shook your head and grinned widely. "I'll talk to her," he finally resigned, and you felt vindication as you brushed a hand back over Ben's hair, hearing him let out a quiet, happy noise at the feeling. "Damn, this must have been what you felt like when he and I finally got over ourselves last year," you noted, and Joe, though he clearly hated every second of it, nodded slowly. Looking down, you caught Ben just in time to see his eyes open blearily, the glaze over them still evident as he turned on his back to look up at you, blinking slowly. "Hello, Sleeping Beauty." "Hi," he croaked, his voice still gravelly as he offered a smile, and you smiled back before patting his cheek gently, lifting your thigh a bit to coax him into getting up. After stretching a bit, he obliged, sitting up and steadying himself on the back of the couch while you stood up and reached out a hand for him. Helping him to his feet, you let him start shuffling back to your apartment while you turned to give Joe a pointed look. "You better talk to her." "I will!" he whined, crossing his arms grumpily and mumbling a snarky goodbye before letting you usher Ben back to bed, where he passed out quickly, curled up against your side with his head resting on your chest and arm draped across your tummy. A blissful, serene smile was plastered onto his features on into the late morning, where you woke up to find neither of you had moved, and apparently, neither had Joe, according to the texts he'd sent you about an hour ago. jmuzzie: I can't fucking get up from this chair jmuzzie: All I can think about is you pegging Ben jmuzzie: I barely slept. Grinning and shaking your head, you decided to ignore the texts and leave them on your home screen to worry about later, carefully detaching yourself from Ben and crawling out of bed. He grabbed your pillow to snuggle instead, wrapping it up in a tight embrace while you tiptoed to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast - bacon, scrambled eggs, and some coffee to wake up what was sure to be a very sore Ben (which he very much was). You heard a groan from down the hallway just as you were finishing up the scrambled eggs, and after hearing the bathroom sink faucet run for a moment, Ben appeared in the doorway, his hair sticking up in odd places and clothes frumpy from being slept in. Cooing sympathetically, you put together a plate for him as he somehow managed to pour himself a coffee and sluggishly climb onto a stool at the counter. While you made his plate, he stared off into space, not even giving a simple hello as he seemed to try and will himself to wake up, his cheeks still a bit splotchy and feverish from waking up - he always ran hot, especially during the night. "There you go, princess," you teased, Ben only groaning in thanks when the plate clattered down to the counter in front of him. The noise made him wince, so you decided to keep the conversation minimal while you both finished your breakfast, and you could tell he was already getting sleepy again from the methodical, slow pace he was taking to rinse the dishes off in the sink. "I think I'm just going to stand in the shower for a tick and question my life choices," he finally mumbled once he was wiping his hands off on the dishtowel next to the sink, and with a quick kiss to your cheek, he was off to the bathroom. As he trudged back down the hallway, you elected to pour another cup of coffee to take next door. "Joe said he was up, I'll go check on him real quick. You were both blitzed by bedtime, so I'm sure he's hurting too." Ben answered with an almost inaudible grunt, and you rolled your eyes with a small grin before shifting the mug to your opposite hand and shuffling over to your neighbor's apartment, where you found Joe in the kitchen, apparently over his dramatics from an hour ago. The sliding door squeaked a bit as you shut it behind you, and Joe looked up slowly, his red-rimmed eyes narrowing and lip curling up ever-so-slightly when his eyes adjusted enough to recognize you. "Oh, it's the pegger-" "You really are the worst," you immediately laughed, crossing the living room and holding out the mug of coffee, which he accepted with a grateful noise and sipped in silence while you made yourself at home on his bar stools. "Feeling 10 out of 10 this morning?" "Out of 10? I feel like a Mexican 1." Furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to question whether that was vaguely racist, but he continued before you could confuse the situation even further. "Because a peso is worth less than a dollar, duh?" "The joke isn't funny if you have to explain it, dumbass." You let out a single, pitying laugh at his poor attempt at humor, though, and reached for your phone only to find that you'd left it over at the apartment. "Shit. Must have left my phone back over there." "I'll text Ben," he sighed melodramatically, pulling out his phone and typing away while you propped your head up on your hand. "He said he's on his way because 'the water won't warm up fast enough.'" When he finally locked his phone and set it back on the counter, you looked at it for a moment before giving him a pointed look, deliberately switching your gaze between him and the phone a few times before he scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Do you have something to say, or are you tweaking right now?... Does your eye have a really bad twitch?" "Sooooo," you drawled out, tilting your head a bit more and shimmying your shoulders playfully before wiggling your eyebrows a bit. He didn't seem to get the hint or want to get the hint, and you let out a huff of annoyance as the skin around his childlike hazel eyes crinkled, taunting you. "Have you talked to her yet?" "At 9 in the morning? Yeah, let me just call her." Picking up his phone, he mimed typing in her number sloppily before raising the phone to his ear, putting on a moronic expression as he did so. "Hey, babe. Yeah, I know it's 9 am, but I was wondering if you want to tie me up and spank me because I've been a naughty little-" "Okay, enough, enough!" you laughed, holding out your hands to shield yourself from the invisible antagonism that practically radiated off of him at this point. "I get it. I was just curious, dickwad." Scoffing again, he gave you an irritatingly condescending look before he reached forward and grabbed the water bottle he'd been most likely nursing since last night, which you assumed from the way a foggy sort of condensation had built up on the inside of the bottle. It went away as he swirled the bottle a bit, then he took the cap off and reluctantly took a swig, wincing at the stale, lukewarm water that he forced himself to swallow. "Ew. How can they say that drinking warm water is better for your health? I think these doctors are a bunch of fucking quacks." "They probably know a lot more than you do, dummy," you answered in a deadpan, looking around for a moment and furrowing your eyebrows. Ben wasn't there yet, and you wondered what was taking him so long. "He said he was on his way, right?" you asked, and Joe nodded, seemingly unbothered as he carefully examined the bottle he'd just taken a drink out of, his left hand toying with the cap of it absentmindedly and flipping it between his fingers. "Do you think that I could make a bottle flip if I got some practice? I've seen those videos of all the kids doing it from a couple years ago, and I kind of want some good throwback Instagram content." "Joe, you could literally just post a picture with Ben standing in your general vicinity and your Instagram base would lose its fucking marbles." Frowning, you climbed off the bar stool as Joe grunted noncommittally in response, apparently already on one track as he picked up the bottle and weighed his options. As you turned, you heard him let out a strangled cry that barely even registered as you tilted your head a bit, wondering where in the hell your boyfriend was. Had he fallen back asleep? Was he choking on his vomit like that scene from Breaking Bad where Walter watched Jesse's girlfriend die because she apparently had to? Wait, why the fuck would he be throwing up from a weed hangover? "I forgot it was open! Oh my god, oh my god, where's the god damn dish towels?" Joe panicked, and you looked back to see the bottle from before laying sideways on the counter, but your mind was too much of a mess to make sense of why there was a medium-sized puddle of water surrounding it and dripping down to the tiled floor. Joe scrambled around like a chicken with its head cut off and in his panic, you didn't even have to ask - he blurted it out anyway. "I fucking try to do a bottle flip once and this is what I get!"

"Um, Joe, you have fun with that, buddy," you hummed nervously, worry setting in as you decided you'd come back for the mug later - not that he'd give it back anyway, but you'd try. Joe was too busy cleaning up his mistake to pay attention to you already being halfway out the door, hurrying over just to find Ben sitting on the bar stool with his back to you, sipping coffee and appearing to be fine. Letting out a sigh of relief, you padded back into the kitchen where you picked up the now mostly empty kettle of coffee, feeling Ben's eyes on you as you poured yourself another mug. It was quiet, still like last night, but there was an eerie quality to this silence that made a nearly-paralyzing chill trickle down your spine as you poured the last tiny bit of the coffee down the drain, starting to rinse it out. Ben made no attempt to speak even when you peeked over at him to see him very calmly watching you. He wasn't smiling, though, and there was a distant look in his eyes that you recognized immediately. He wasn't daydreaming, no sir. Something had pissed him off royally - you'd seen this look before on rare occasions, and angry Ben was never a treat. He was a true Capricorn if you'd ever seen one, a calculated son of a bitch who could build up a wall within seconds and take days to bring it back down. If you called him out on one single minute flaw in his argument, he'd also obsess over it for hours, either bricking himself in and giving you the silent treatment or snapping immediately and trading in his cool rationale to show you a temper to be reckoned with; a force you'd never seen before. He was never violent - far from it, actually, but if you stirred the sleeping dragon, you were in for one hell of an argument. There was never an argument you hadn't worked through, though, and you weren't about to lose that streak today. So, you turned around and leaned your hip against the counter, crossing your arms as you took a sip of the coffee. "What's up? Joe said you were on your way, what gives?" Ben nodded, sitting down his mug and licking his lips before pressing them together and shrugging. "Changed my mind." "What changed your mind?" you prodded, his body language telling you everything he wasn't saying as he crossed his arms in front of him and leaned over the counter, his shoulders hunching up a bit after he shrugged again. "Ben, come on, don't do this. What's bothering you? I'm not fucking dumb, you know, you're clearly upset about something." "I never said you were dumb," he responded, and the calm, unwavering tone of voice infuriated you so much you lost your taste for the coffee, sitting your mug down on the counter as well and crossing your arms again. "So are you just going to avoid my question? I really want to know what's upsetting you, bubs, I can't just sit here and guess until you say 'Oh, you got it! Clever girl.' You're acting like I microwaved your tea water, for Christ’s sake!" Ben scoffed, tracing a fingertip around the rim of his mug and shaking his head a bit as you heard the muffled sound of Joe's TV turning on just on the other side of the wall. Your phone vibrated from the counter next to Ben, but you couldn't bring yourself to walk over and go grab it as Ben's annoyingly nonchalant nature perplexed you. "Why do I have to be upset? Can't I just drink coffee in silence with my girlfriend?" "Ben, I live with you, I know your 'looks' like the back of my hand. Can we please just talk about this?" "Talk about what?" Tapping the screen of your phone, which had just locked automatically again, his eyes scanned through the notifications for a second before he smiled sardonically. "Ah, there it is. Yeah, let's talk about it. I get a text from Joe saying you forgot your phone, so I go to grab it and I get to see these beauties. 'I can't fucking get up from this chair, all I can think about is you pegging Ben, I barely slept.'" Leaning forward on his arms again, he gave you a bitter smile and propped his elbow up on the counter, resting his chin in his hand. "Fascinating stuff, really. Apparently, my girlfriend's pegged me and I wasn't even aware of it, and then she's gone and bragged about it to our best friend." Laughing in disbelief, you tilted your head to the side and gave him an incredulous look. "Are you serious right now? You're just going to take that out of context and not even think for a second, 'Hey, maybe there's an explanation to why Joe's-" "Why have you told Joe that you pegged me? You think it's funny? Where do you get off?" "Excuse me?" you choked out incredulously, baffled that he'd even assume that you got a laugh out of this wildly-exaggerated situation as you crossed your arms around yourself, feeling unbearably small underneath his gaze. He was slowly simmering, a single vein in his forehead just barely protruding from the taut reddish skin on his forehead. But there was such a level-headed manner to him it drove you nuts, making you huff softly and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, then shake your head a few more times. "I can't believe this is happening right now, this is ridiculous." "That's fucking rich, considering I'm the one who 'got pegged' and joked about in this situation." Ben's voice was venomous, even, and you shivered again at how easily he spit it back at you, unafraid of whatever he'd say next. "You like telling our friends that I take it in the arse? That really make you laugh, huh? Why are you lying to Joe about our sex life, which is supposed to be private-" "Oh, don't fucking start with me about private sex lives!" you quickly retorted, cutting him off mid-sentence in an impulsive moment of rage. "I've heard you drunk and blabbering on to your fucking 'mates' back in London over the phone about us, don't even start with me!" Oh. You'd done it now - calling him out on something insignificant was one thing, but accusing him of blatant hypocrisy? You could practically see the steam shooting out of his ears. Something flashed in his eyes, and then he rocketed out of the stool he'd just previously been seated so still on. You followed him as he stormed down the hallway - he yelled over his shoulder as he went. "At least I don't tell my mates that I make you take it in the arse, yeah? Fuck you, Y/N. It's bloody different, especially when it's Joe and you've lied to him about something personal!" "Will you just let me explain?" you called after him, exasperated and ready to pull your hair out as he threw open the door to the bedroom, stalking over to the bed before starting to pace in front of it. He looked caged as he walked back and forth, both of his hands running back through his hair in obvious frustration before he finally let out a loud groan and sat back on the bed, looking at you and trying to mask the anger he clearly felt right now with a forced apathetic expression. "Okay, go on. I'm dying to hear how you'll talk your way out of this one." Recoiling a bit at how unwilling he was to even hear your side of the story, you felt tears welling up in your eyes a bit but you blinked them away, refusing to let him win with such a biting comeback. "Seems like whatever I say, you're not going to care anyways. Is this even worth my time, explaining it to you?" He didn't have a response, and that irritated you even more, making you choke up a bit as you continued. "You're like this every time, Ben, you fucking get this idea of what happened in your head and you refuse to even accept the idea that maybe my side of the story is as valid as yours." "What if I did do that?" He paused and let it sink in, as he was always the actor, and then he was on a roll again. "What if I accepted your side every time, and then you took advantage of that? I'm not a toy and I'm not here to be played with, or used for bragging rights when you're talking to your friends- our friends about our sex life, Y/N, I have feelings too! I'm allowed to feel this way too, and right now, I feel like you're just using me as a- fuck, I don’t know, a talking point or something!" As far as the validity of his feelings, he did have a point (as much as you hated to cede to that), but you still pressed your lips into a thin line and persisted, not letting the subject drop. "I'm not going to take advantage of you, Ben! Stop saying that! Not everyone is out to get you, especially not me, and I hate when you're like this, 'protecting yourself'. You think that by being mean to me, it will get your problems to go away so you can keep this wall between you and the issue, but I'm not going to let you shut me out again. You don't have to shut down every time something goes haywire, damn it!" "I'm not shutting you out or being mean to you!" he yelled back, but you only scoffed and crossed your arms in disbelief. "Then what are you doing?" Your question was warranted, and Ben found himself at a loss for words as he stared at you guardedly. The gears were turning in his head, and you could see from the confusion in his eyes that he was starting to question himself now. "I- I'm just tryin' to-" "To protect yourself, yeah, I get it!" you interrupted, Ben's jaw tightening as he snapped his mouth shut once again. The tension in his jaw remained unrelieved as you continued. "I get that you want to protect yourself, Ben, but you don't have to be so shitty to me for no reason when you do it! It's fucking mean and it hurts my feelings that you won't even let me explain myself!" That rendered him fully speechless, so you only let up for a moment before pressing one last time. "Can I explain now? Please." Dead silence hung in the air for a moment as the gravity of your words weighed heavy on both of you, Ben's teeth grinding together for a moment as he considered the accusations against him. "Fine," he muttered, yielding to you despite the conflict still going on behind closed doors in his mind. You could tell it was a raging dumpster fire in there as you approached the bed, tentatively, sitting next to him and wiping away the tears that had failed to escape from your eyes. Between awkward shifts and intermittent sniffles, you explained everything you'd talked to Joe about last night, from Joe's Virgo woes to his mistaken assumption about pegging, Ben, and you. By the end of your story, you'd tucked one leg underneath you and let the other dangle off of the edge of the bed, facing Ben with your hands in your lap despite the fact that they were itching to be running through his hair right now. You wanted desperately to comfort him, but there wasn't much to be done as you finally quieted to let him process all of this new information, his gaze trained on his legs which were just barely crossed over each other at the ankle, one foot shaking back and forth anxiously. It drove you mad as you hyper-focused on it too, so anxious to know what he was thinking that you nearly didn't register when he uncrossed them. Your head lifted as he stood up off the bed and walked over to the other side of the room quickly, your anxious feelings multiplying when his back stayed turned to you and he came to rest in front of the dresser. However, you vowed not to let it be known how utterly freaked out you were at the moment, so you scooted back on the bed and sat criss-cross as you brought his pillow into your lap, needing something of comfort to latch on to. It seemed like eons before he finally spoke, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, and his quiet, gentle words were like music to your ears. "So you didn't tell Joe you pegged me?" "No," you almost laughed in relief, though the situation certainly didn't call for it, and you could see his shoulders relax a bit, though his back stayed turned to you. "I actually told him I never had - multiple times, if I'm not wrong." "He was just joking?" he asked a bit louder, elaborating on his previous question, and you could feel the anxiety crumbling away as he turned to you with a genuinely relieved expression on his face. When you nodded, you could see an incredibly guilty look come over his face, and a little whine escaped your lips as you moved his pillow out of your lap and reached out for him. He gratefully obliged, climbing into bed with you, and you scooted over to make a bit more room as he practically laid on top of you, taking you down with him. "I'm such a dickhead, 'm sorry," was all he had to say, and that's all he had to do to make you start laughing before he began to pepper you with soft kisses anywhere he could. It was hard to breathe as he smothered you in wordless attention, and it took several tries for you to communicate that between breathless laughter and attempts to wriggle out from underneath him before he got the message. As he turned on his side and let you breathe again, you tried to make sense of what had just happened. So many questions swirled through your head. When had it clicked? Why were you letting this slide? Why was he so defensive about this? But no matter how long you stared at your boyfriend and tried to make sense of it all, it proved fruitless to try and pin down exactly where he had finally got off of his one-track madness. So, you just smiled and saved that deconstruction for later. Right now, you wanted to savor the fact that things had been worked out, and you watched as Ben took your hand so he could kiss your knuckles, offering one more wordless apology with his eyes. His lips sent another thrill down your spine and you marveled at the effect he had on you even when you were both sober and incredibly sleep-worn. Despite him making you incredibly mad at moments, it was so hard not to love this man and everything about him. His green eyes flickered with an apprehensive yet curious look when you smiled widely, squeezing his hand. “Love you, bubs.” A smile spread across his lips, and he kissed your knuckles once more before murmuring his response.

“Love you too. Thanks for calling me out on my shit.” Laughing, you played with his fingers and shook your head, debating your response for a minute. It was your job, after all, but sometimes it was hard, especially when he was a dick about it like today. But Ben seemed to read your mind, and he continued on, relieving you the responsibility of somehow starting another tiff. “I know I suck sometimes, but I’m glad you and Joe can be mean right back to me if I need it. It makes it a lot easier to see when I’m being a knobhead.”

"Speaking of Joe-” Ben groaned before you even got the second part of your sentence out, and you had to laugh at him before you continued. It was like he knew you were about to poke fun at him. “He did say something about being surprised that you haven't smothered me yet," you teased, and Ben reluctantly took the bait, lacing his fingers into yours as he quirked an eyebrow curiously. "Yeah, no, he said something like 'How is he not the dominant one when he could just suffocate you with those muscles?' I think he has a crush on your muscles." "First off, your Joe imitation is surprisingly poor for having lived next to him all these years," Ben joked right back, albeit in a soft voice. He seemed almost afraid of ticking you off at this point, but he had to roll his eyes when you gasped in mock offense. "Second of all, I'm not surprised that he wishes he could be this fit. And third off, I can be dominant, so I don't know what you were going on about with Joe." "Are you serious?" you laughed, and his attempt at looking dead serious only made you laugh harder as you hid your face behind the hand that was intertwined in his. "Oh, fuck, you're pulling my leg right now! You have to be, right?" The little noise of shock that he let out was genuine, and he moved your hand away from your face as he very obviously tried not to laugh at how hard you were laughing. "Why is it so hilarious? I can be dominant. I've been dominant with you loads of times." "Name one!" you choked out between fits of giggles, and he furrowed his eyebrows as he fell silent at the prompt. 5 seconds, 10 seconds, and then 20 seconds passed with no answer, which made you laugh even harder. "See?" "That doesn't mean that it can't happen!" he offered, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, but you were still too distracted coming down off of the end of your incredulous laughing fit, so he just whined and gently pressed his lips to your jaw. His kisses were soft and quick as he tried to get your full, undivided attention so he could plead his case, but all that did was make you giggle again, so he laughed with you before rolling on top of you again, one of his legs resting between yours as he continued to trail kisses down to your neck. His swollen bottom lip dragged over the skin as you snickered one more time, still amused at the thought of Ben genuinely thinking he wasn't the biggest baby when it came down to the wire, and you gave voice to your thoughts. He keened at the impression of your fingers running over his scalp and dragging through his hair, pausing in his kisses for just a moment when he finally heard you speak. "I hate to say it, but I have my doubts. Sue me." You felt a quick puff of air hit your neck as he audibly scoffed, and then he resumed his kisses without any more delay. And really, you had to say that these kisses paired with his roaming hand that had just came to rest on your thigh - it was beginning to do something for you, so you let him continue as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. You could tell from the way his hips rolled against yours subtly that he was getting just as much from this as you were. When he finally pulled away just enough to look at you, for a second you saw Ben in his true form - all smiles and cosmetic charisma, but still just as rosy-cheeked and painfully unsuspecting as the day you'd met. And he thought he was going to come out the one on top? "As if," you murmured with a shit-eating grin, and then you pulled him into a kiss by the nape of his neck, his lips meeting yours with an eagerness only Ben could fail to contain. For a moment, he'd convinced himself that maybe he could be the one in control, but the way he submitted easily as you rolled on top of him, your thigh brushing up between his legs, said otherwise. You hand snuck up to his jaw, your thumb just casually resting on his chin and brushing over a hint of stubble - it was a subtle move, but nonetheless an effective reminder of who was in charge as it subconsciously prompted him to tilt his head forward eagerly and deepen the kiss. Reaching down with your free hand, you just barely brushed your fingers over the front of his shorts before cupping him through the admittedly-scratchy fabric. His breathing hitched, and then he let out what sounded like the sweetest whimper you'd ever heard as he grinded up against your touch, already desperate for friction and just as predictable as he ever was. Smiling widely against his lips, you broke the kiss and moved your hand away so it was resting just below his navel instead. He groaned unhappily against your lips at the loss, one of his hands finding your hip, and he murmured, "What? What?" as if he didn't want to think about how needy he'd been just moments ago. Letting out a soft laugh, you kissed him deeply once more and roped him right back in, moaning softly in unison with him when you straddled his hips and inadvertently grinded against his growing bulge, Though it wasn't unwelcome by any means, you bit down on the inside of your cheek as your instincts coaxed you into rolling your hips lazily - suddenly, you were struggling to silence every blazing reminder in your head that you were trying to show him that you loved to love him and wanted to treat him like he deserved, and if that meant dominating the fuck out of him, then so be it! But it was too hard to ignore the desire beginning to course through your veins and cloud your judgment - before you knew it, you weren't only chasing that satisfaction of proving your point. Taking his hand, you wordlessly moved it to the front of your pajama shorts and hummed in appreciation when he took the hint immediately, slipping his hand in between fabric and skin so he could rub circles into your clit. Moaning his name at the feeling, you could sense his pace quicken at bit at the positive reaction, and you rutted against his hand with a serene smile decorating your face. "Fuck, this never gets old," you murmured, Ben letting out a grunt of agreement, and your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as he applied more pressure. Managing to pull your shirt off despite barely being able to focus on anything besides his fingers, you hummed in pleasure when you immediately felt Ben's mouth on your chest, kissing and sucking on every inch of skin he could reach. Meanwhile, he slid his fingers through your slick heat, eliciting quiet moans from both of you at how soaked you were. All of your touches and actions became more fervent as things intensified, kisses getting sloppier, hands roaming even further, and clothes coming off in rapid succession until you were completely naked and yanking Ben's shorts to his ankles as you relished in the fact that he'd conveniently forgotten to wear boxers or even compression shorts underneath. His cheeks were as flushed as ever, and he squirmed a bit impatiently, muscles shifting underneath his skin with each movement and making him look like a marble statue underneath the pale light filtering in from behind the curtains. Proving a point be damned, your boyfriend was hot - and he was very much putty in your hands. Kneeling between his legs, you started to reach out to help him, but he was already there before you could, his hand stroking his cock as he ogled your body and let out short, sharp breaths. When your eyes met his and you raised an eyebrow in question, his hand slowed down almost automatically, his cock twitching in his grasp. The pure lust in his eyes paired with the uneven rise and fall of his chest evoked a visceral reaction, one that made you nearly bite down on your tongue as you fought back the instinctive urge to inhale sharply. Fuck, he was pretty. "I couldn't help it," he admitted weakly, and the appreciation that flickered to life in your eyes only encouraged him as he offered a weak smile, getting himself off as you crawled back up to capture his lips in a quick kiss. Replacing his hand with yours, you continued to pleasure him slowly, each stroke setting off a tremble in his abdomen that betrayed everything you were doing to him despite how hard he was working not to moan into your mouth every other second. "You sound so pretty when you moan like that, baby," you cooed as you straddled his hips, starting to grind down on him again, and he let out a slightly broken noise of delight at your praise while his hands found purchase on your hips. "You like that?" "Yes, yes. Can't wait anymore. Need to fuck you, please," he begged in very obviously fragmented sentences. His head fell back against the pillows in a mixture of frustration and pleasure when you just grinned and traced a finger down the center of his chest, grinding down against him painfully slow. "Then fuck me." You felt a shiver run up your spine when Ben openly groaned, and you fought the urge to just keep rutting against him until one of you got off - as tempting as it was, you instead let him guide himself until the tip of his cock was pressing against your entrance. "Raw?" he asked incredulously as if he hadn't already done it multiple times before, and you nodded slowly as he began to groan and cover his face with his arm, his head sinking back into the pillow. "I'm going to fucking bust before I even get in," he lamented, muffled by his elbow, and you had to grin knowingly before you finally sank down onto him with a soft gasp, marveling as he filled you up slowly. Fuck, fuck, fuck, that was good. You weren’t sure if you’d said that out loud, but no matter how many times you slept together, it still felt like the first time every time you did it. He bottomed out with a loud groan as you rested your hands on his torso, pausing a moment to adjust. When you finally looked down, his eyes were screwed shut in a desperate attempt to keep himself away from the edge as long as he could. "Baby, look at me," you whispered, and he peeked open an eye only to squeeze it shut as soon as he opened it. Letting out a small huff, he began to curse under his breath until you quieted him with a gentle hum and a quick kiss. "I love you." "I love you so much," he choked out softly, his fingers digging into your hips as you started rolling them tentatively. Humming in euphoria, you finally began to ride him, and he helped as much as he could to guide your hips against his between sweet, yet sinful moans. The two of you moved in unison, pornographic sounds of skin on skin intertwining with mumbled curses and breathless moans. At some point you couldn't discern in the chaos, Ben had started to meet your efforts in the middle and began thrusting up into you with a wild abandon. If your upstairs or downstairs neighbors hadn't woke yet, they were sure to have by that point - it was no holds barred as you both neared your climaxes, and nothing was off the table at that point. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!" Ben gasped when you began to slow down and roll your hips more deliberately, his hips stuttering as he tried to stave off the inevitable. "Keep doing that, please, I'm so fucking close- Shit!" When you circled your hips a certain way, his cock brushed up against your walls at an angle that made your thighs nearly falter from the wave of pleasure it sent rolling through your body. Goosebumps broke out on your skin, and you cursed under your breath as you repeated the motion with a satisfied gasp. "You that close, baby? You want to cum in me?" you asked breathily, the rhetorical question hanging in the air while Ben's fingers dug into your hips as he tried to meet you halfway with sloppy thrusts, his abdomen trembling with the effort. He looked close to tears as you took one of his hands and moved it to your chest, murmuring some breathless command to play with your tits. Obliging eagerly, he watched with cloudy, lust-filled eyes as you reached down to rub your clit in rapid circles that matched your quickly-deteriorating pace. A fuzziness entered your vision as a combination of touch, sensation, and just the sight of Ben going slack-jawed in his efforts to consciously avoid a surely-close orgasm. "Just let go," you managed to moan out, and holy fuck, did he let out the prettiest sound. His voice cracked as he choked out something between a sob and a groan - it was a noise fit for a porn star, the feeling of him emptying inside of you only that much hotter coupled with the visual of his eyelids fluttering closed. So overwhelmed with sensations, he could barely form a coherent thought as he came. His breaths came out in gasps, hips pressing flush to you as he spilled inside you. It was a mess, a hot one, and the sound that it made as he pulled out with a whimper was downright filthy, but you were too caught up in chasing your own high to think about anything other than the way the last drops of his cum were painting his stomach, his cock twitching as it finally gave way to the last of his orgasm. "God- you're so fucking hot- I'm-" Ben was still struggling for complete sentences when you finally pressed hard on your clit and then you were coming, your head falling back in pure ecstasy as waves of relief crashed over you, cleansing your body of every curse word that came flying out of your mouth following your climax. Ben was there, and then his lips were on yours as you started to come down from the high, a messy kiss silencing any further sins you could have vocalized. His hands slid to your thighs again, and he didn't loosen his grip until you pulled away from the obscenely long kiss, both of you very out of breath and very content with what had just taken place. After a chorus of ragged breathing from the both of you, you let a sly grin peek at the corner of your lips before you rolled off of him, silently cursing the fact that you'd be washing these sheets ASAP so the cum dripping out of you wouldn't irreversibly stain the fabric. A few tissues you snatched from the nightstand temporarily alleviated the situation, buying you enough time to pad over to the bathroom and grab a towel for the both of you. You could barely catch your breath as you did so, and you wondered if you were getting out of shape recently - the brief thought of going to the gym with Ben more often passed by, and you huffed as you reluctantly considered it. When you returned and tossed the towel to Ben, who was still sprawled out on the bed and pushing a few stray hairs back out of his eyes, you had to smirk. "So what was that about you being dom-" You didn't even get the chance to finish your sentence before Ben was laughing out an answer, catching the towel as he sat up to clean himself off. "Fuck right off, you're just gloating at this point." "You're right," you teased, silently preening at your own sexual prowess as you cleaned yourself up and slipped on some old, oversized t-shirt, ignoring the sweat that gave your skin a light sheen. Looking over, you ogled shamelessly as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed, picking up a haphazard pair of shorts from the dirty laundry nearby. His muscles shifted underneath his skin with the effort, and you noted that he looked just as sweaty as you, causing you to let out an inward sigh of relief. Maybe you weren't as out of shape as you thought you were - the sex was just that good. "Such a show-off," he mumbled, but you could hear the smile in his voice as you looked at yourself in the mirror to fix your hair, and it brought a proud smile to your own face. When you finally crawled back into bed with him, he'd pulled some shorts back on and stripped the dirtied sheets off, leaving just the comforter underneath the two of you. Snuggling up together, he rested his head on your tummy and gave it a gentle kiss as you felt his eyelashes flutter closed, the feather-like sensation against your skin coaxing a quiet giggle out of you. "What's so funny?" he asked curiously, though his voice was barely above a mumble, clearly exhausted from the events of the morning. "Nothing," you answered honestly, running your hand back through his mussy, slightly-sweaty hair before grinning and back-tracking. "Actually, I was thinking about how fucking funny I was in the kitchen earlier. What would you do if I microwaved your tea water?" Ben groaned at the thought, and you dissolved into a fit of giggles as he buried his face into your stomach, shaking his head slightly at your clear amusement with yourself. As you laughed, you could feel a small huff against your skin, and then he grumbled in response. "You're sick, y'know. Truly sick." "I think someone's being a little dramatic," you teased, but Ben only scoffed once more before getting himself comfortable and dozing off into a peaceful mid-morning nap, the soothing warmth and methodical rise and fall of his chest eventually lulling you back to sleep as well. A final thought of 'God, I hope Joe had his TV loud enough' brought a mischievous smile to your face just before you were both out like a light. - taglist - @crosmopolitan @just-ladyme @rogerfxckingtaylor @fourmisfitz @shae-is-not-ok @moreinfinite @fruityfreddie @poachedhazontoast @strawberryfields-forever @imladrs @psychoticobsession @killer-queen-xo @rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @brownhardyho @stardvstial @iminlovewith-rogers-car @benyeehawdy @mercurys-bike @mazzelloplots @beaaatle @sunshine112 @wonderless-screwup @rogers-sweatbands @whowaits4everanyway @sunflower-borhap-boys @bitemerog @jennyggggrrr @bensrhapsody @xiaoqueencava @discodeacygotmorerhythm @reedusteinrambles @extrovertedwallflower @the-next-one @nouvveau @storiesfrommirkwood @spunky-town @brianprobablywill @elizabwrites NYM taglist - @aridrowse @radiob-l-a-hblah @caborhapch @xtrabroll @myguardianmailman @ultrunning @onceuponadetectivedemigod @neckfruit @borhapbxtch @ixchel-9275 @mamaskillerqueen @queentrashcanfics @sam-mercurry-sixx @kimmietea @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @rogmeddows @deacyspatronusisacheesetoastie @woaholland @a-kind-of-magik @darling-egg @ramibaby @orchideax @jazzman-19 @bloomingbetty @hannafuckingsucks @theprettyfandom @the-run-n-gogh @omgitsearly @killerqueenunderpressure @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @zyanmaik @wehavetofearignorance @itsryn @multisuperbananas @stephanie-everlasting @dancingstan @mercurycrowley @awkwardangelshezza @deadlyaffairs @ken-yee-not @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @loveandbeloved29 @devin-marie @lieblingsmenzch @standing-onthe-edge @annabananawastakenx2 message me/reply to this to be added to the permanent taglist! 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spacebabehargrove · 4 years

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This is the start of a project. Basically it might just be one shots or an actual fic, I haven’t decided. It’s fem keg boys, so Tammy, Stevie, Billie. It’s set in summer of a year between ‘95-2000. Hope y’all enjoy

It’s her spot.

Well, it was until she brought home two country girls from butt fuck nowhere. Now it’s their spot. It’s this little secluded place off the side of State Route 1. When Billie was living there it was her favorite place to get away from her dad. Perfect place to smoke weed, get drunk, take a nap. She didn’t have to worry about yelling or screaming, getting hit or kicked out. It was her and her car. Now, it’s Tammy, Stevie, Her, and their car. Tammy didn’t have a car, and Stevie’s had gotten totaled in an accident. So they shared. Each part of Lita (their car) has different things. Tammy usually kept spare underwear in the back seat, Stevie has like ten journals in the glove compartment, and Billie has her cigarettes in the cup holder. All of their prized possession though is the naked woman on the dashboard, Jennifer.

Okay, they don’t actually know her name. Billie had found it at work and kept it, and the other two thought it was hilarious. So ‘Jennifer’ had her own place on the dashboard, next to the odometer. It was hot today. It was getting up to the 110s and Tammy did nothing but complain about it. Of course their ac was broken in their shitty apartment, so being outside was better than inside. They had all brought their work with them. Stevie was sketching a new jacket, Tammy was working on the dialogue for tomorrow’s radio show, and Billie was making a new schedule for the week.

“It’s fucking hot.” Tammy complained, yet again. Stevie rolled her eyes.

“You’ve said that like ten times in the past hour Tammy.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true!” Stevie turned to the backseat where Tammy was.

“What do you think of this? I can’t decide the width of the stripes I want on it.” Stevie told her, showing the sketch book to Tammy. Tammy looked up from her own notebook, taking a good look at the drawing.

“Is that me in the drawing?” Tammy grinned.

“Of course it is dumbass. Now tell me, does it look fine?” Stevie rolled her eyes. Tammy snickered, but smiled wide at Stevie.

“I think it looks good. Ask Billie.” Tammy smirked as she said the last part. Stevie chuckled.

“All Billie wears are cut off tees. I can’t trust her.”

“Listen Princess, it’s style and keeps me cool.” Billie looked up from her planner, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re tense.” Stevie noted. Tammy nodded her head.

“We came out here to relax, you look way stressed out.” She commented, reaching and gently kneading at Billie’s shoulder. That one that always bothered her. Billie had thrown it out a while back at work, and the aches still hurt her.

“Fucking- They’re all dudes with small dicks who think that just cause I’m a woman I won’t cut their hours.” She rolled her eyes as she ranted.

“Mike barely comes in on time, Jimmy constantly gives attitude to customers. It’s like they don’t even wanna work there!” Stevie flinched a bit. She Could tell how riled up Billie was getting over this.

“Babe, you need a break from that.” She said and grabbed the planner, throwing it to the backseat with Tammy.

“Stevie that’s not gonna-“

“Baby.” Stevie purrs softly. Billie visibly relaxes. The girls had certain things that Made Billie chill the fuck out. All Stevie had to do was call her baby in that sweet voice of hers, Tammy just had to squeeze her hand softly. Billie had special names for them. Stevie was her princess, Tammy was her angel. Both girls knew that Billie loved them equally. They never had to fight for her love.

“I just...God. Can you hand me the blunt?” Billie finally says. Tammy pulls out a bag of two blunts, handing one over to Billie. Stevie smiles wide at her.

“Relax some baby. I brought that watermelon you’ve been wanting.” Stevie usually brought the snacks when they came to this spot. There wasn’t a name, just yet. They’d been thinking of one for weeks. Tammys Involved weed, Billie’s involved sex, and Stevie was right in the middle. Billie lights the blunt and takes a big hit of it, sighing out the smoke.

“Better.” She mumbles. Tammy smiles wide as she keeps massaging at that shoulder.

“It’s okay Billie. You can relax with us.” She says. Of course Billie knows that. But sometimes she just needs a little reminder. Stevie Turns On the radio, pushing play on the cd they have in there. It’s one of Tammy’s. It’s a No Doubt cd. Tammy always talks about her big crush on Gwen Stephanie. They’ve all got their little crushes. Stevie’s is Aunt Becky from Full House, Billie’s is Kat Bjelland from Babes in Toyland.

“Let me have some?” Tammy asks from the backseat, though she’s leaning so far forward she might as well be in the front.

“‘Course angel.” Billie tells her. Tammy blushes every single time Billie calls her that. Billie hands back the blunt and Tommy takes a nice hit of it. She coughs some, like she always does. Stevie giggles a bit as she hears it.

“You do that every time babe.” Stevie tells her. Tammy flips her off as she takes another hit.

“Not all of us are potheads baby.” She retorts back, Stevie grinning.

“Yeah? You sure about that one? Aren’t you the one with a bunch of weed stashed in your room?” Tammy goes quiet at that. Billie smiles as she watches them interact. Never in a million years would she think that fucking Hawkins, Indiana would ever have something that she wanted. But then she meets this fallen queen of the school and her best friend and suddenly she’s hooked. God, she spent what? Months trying to figure out if they were the type to beat her up for being a lesbian? Turns out they had been looking at her too.

“Billie? Billie you’re not that high already are you?” Tammy is snapping her out of her thoughts. Tammy looks like she might be that high already. Billie shakes her head.

“No, no I’m just thinking.” She says.

“About what baby?” Stevie asks as she takes a hit of the blunt. Billie smiles.

“About my princess and angel. How I love you guys so much.” Billie says. And yeah, it’s sappy. Sue her. Stevie grins wide and grabs Billie’s face, kissing her softly. Billie always kisses her back. Billie can be the most pissed off she’s ever been and will still kiss her back. Stevie pulls back just for Tammy to lurch forward and kiss Billie. Billie always loves kisses from Tammy as well. Both Stevie and Tammy always gave the best kisses. Tammy pulls back and smiles.

“We love you.” She says. Stevie nods her head in agreement. Billie smiles back at them.

“I love you both. Put on your seatbelts. I wanna drive.” She says and both girls oblige.

“Later today I wanna go downtown to get more fabric.” Stevie says. Billie nods her head.

“You gonna come with angel?” Billie looks back at Tammy thru the mirror. Tammy grins.

“Absolutely.” They’ve got their own rhythm. All three of them have a major part to play in the relationship. It couldn’t function without any of them being in it, All three of the girls knew that. So as Billie turned up the radio, Tammy went back to writing and Stevie went back to drawing, they fell into a comfortable silence. The sun was hot, but that was okay. They had one another to help ride the waves.

#fem keg boys #keg girls #billy hargrove #Tommy hagen #steve harrington #keg boys #stranger things

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foxtophat · 4 years

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hello hello!!! it’s your friendly bi-weekly update here, telling you that this dumbass fic has updated and you can now read it! mbmbam-style talking points: Springtime, Intimate Haircuts, Children Rebellions, and Grace Under Pressure!

i had a lot of fun putting this one together, mostly b/c the entire chapter changed when i went to work on it. carmina is surprisingly fun to write, although i try to stay away from her dialogue as i can’t write children at all, and john is increasingly more frustrating for nick, which is always a blast. i think we’ll probably check in with kim next chapter and see how things are holding up on her end. i’m sure it’s fine!

as usual, if you enjoy what i’m doing, feel free to leave a comment, or reblog, or send me anonymous asks telling me i’m not thinking about xyz deeply enough and should be ashamed!!!! i won’t be ashamed but i will appreciate you taking the time to tell me i should be :)

for real though, thank you guys so much for being so supportive, and i hope that i continue to provide some good, engaging “nick and kim adopt an asshole” content!!! i appreciate each and every one of you. below the cut is the text for this chapter, in case you don’t wanna leave tumblr!

The seasons seem to roll over without Nick ever really realizing it. The last snowfall was a week ago, and although the nights are still bitterly cold and long, the sun burns bright enough in the morning to chase the chills and frost away before noon. The vines that cover everything have begun to bud again, although it'll be a little while yet before they turn pink and blossom.

Nick is glad that spring is back, but coming out of semi-hibernation is a struggle. He wants to stay in bed, to pull on a few jackets and sit around the campfire, to work on the random DIY projects that kept him busy while they were partially snowed in. Now, it's time for Kim to start talking about planting again, and Carmina has started begging to go hunting with Aunt Grace, and the radio is coming to life every evening with people checking in after their own long winter rests. Hurk and Sharky are trying to peddle something they call party liquor over their own channel, suspiciously refusing to outright call it moonshine, and Fall's End has begun broadcasting about retaking the farmland that's become home to monstrous bison and two-headed cows.

Sometimes, Nick thinks he's stuck going ten miles-per-hour while everyone else can switch gears at the drop of a hat. Adaptability is the second name of survival out here, but damn it, Nick needs a couple of days before he can start thinking about trading with other survivors, much less making the long-needed visits he's been putting off since they climbed out of the ground. He needs to go into Fall's End proper, to pay his respects to Mary May and visit Jerome. He also needs to go out and finally trade out for some hens, so they can have eggs more often, and so they have their own supply to barter with. He's got a list a mile long of things he has to do; so does Kim, for that matter, although she handles it better than he does.

At least they can use John to pick up the extra slack. John's the reason why Nick was able to clear junk out of the hangar, and why all of the trash from Carmina's old room has been taken outside and burned. Ever since Nick fixed the window in his room, John's been quicker to work and easier to instruct, and his weird habits have mostly died off. He still gets distracted during long, monotonous tasks, and he doesn't speak unless spoken to most of the time, but at least he's stopped pacing around and muttering all night, and he's starting to remember what table manners are.

The first unofficial day of spring is family haircut day. Carmina demands that Kim lop all of her long hair off, leaving her with a see-your-manager bob that Nick hopes she'll get tired of. Kim helps Nick out too, trimming up the back for him as he cuts his bushy beard down to just off his chin. Getting a clean shave is more trouble than it's worth these days, and Nick has long since gotten used to wearing a beard. Besides, Kim doesn't seem to mind the Kenny Loggins look one bit, pulling gently on his whiskers to steal a kiss once he's done.

After Nick, Kim cuts John's hair. Nick doesn't know how he feels about John being included in a family affair, but the guy needs it more than any of them. There's only so many bucket-baths one man can take, and John's hair seems to have absorbed more dirt than water could remove. Nick's not sure if it's actually eight years worth of grime that he's keeping in his tangled hair, but it's bad enough to need serious attention.

They do it upstairs in John's room with the door locked, while Carmina reads downstairs — Nick really doesn't need her asking questions about why John's being included on family haircut day, thanks. He stands by the door just in case Carmina tries to interrupt, or in the unlikely event that John tries to bolt, unhappily watching ask Kim sits John down in a chair borrowed from downstairs.

John keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes as Kim assesses the damage, hands clasped tightly in his lap. When Kim huffs unhappily at the rat's nest she's facing, he drops his head so the hair can curtain his face.

Kim hacks off as much hair as she can, careful not to cut one side too much shorter than the other until she knows what she's got left to work with. She orbits slowly around John as she quietly trims away dreaded knots and grime-caked tangles, more focused on her work than on the dangerous psychopath who could grab her kitchen shears at any moment. As she trims his bangs back, John closes his eyes, and he keeps them that way even as she moves on, leaving his face exposed.

She wrinkles her nose as she clears enough hair to reveal John's destroyed ear, heavily scarred and torn from where the deputy shot him. She says nothing about it, but Nick can see from John's expression that it's all he's thinking about. Nick wonders if he can still hear out of it, or if his eardrum never recovered. He's never even thought about it before.

The space between the three of them starts to fill with the heaviness of unintentional silence, but Nick can't bring himself to break the quiet. He doesn't want to distract Kim or trigger some fighting instinct from John. And anyway, he doesn't know what he could say that would make this whole thing feel less weird.

"Well," Kim says, once she's stepped back to get a look at her handiwork, "I mean, it's... better."

It's a shaggier, poor man's version of what John's hair used to look like, but Nick can at least tell the hair that's left is clean. There's not enough hair for him to hide behind anymore, much less hide his busted ear. For the first time, Nick notices an old scar across John's forehead and the dark gray hair that's grown in at his temples. It's... jarring. All at once, Nick is looking at the man he'd sworn to destroy as if he'd only just now removed some kind of disguise. An older, more exhausted version of his sworn enemy is sitting right there, leaving Nick to wonder if cleaning him up was even such a good idea to begin with.

"Damn," Nick says as realization dawns on him, "There's no hiding who he is now, huh."

John's jaw clenches. Nick wonders if he'd been hedging his bets on being indistinguishable from any other survivor.

"We aren't hiding him," Kim huffs.

This is news to Nick, who's been operating with as much secrecy as possible. They'd even stopped having Grace come pick up Carmina, going out to meet her instead. "Yeah, well, we aren't exactly banging pots and pans to draw attention to him, either," he points out.

" You're the one who said he needed a haircut."

"And he did! Just... I didn't realize the difference it'd make, is all." Nick tries to catch John's attention, but he seems to be just fine blending into the surroundings while Nick and Kim argue about his stupid hair. "Anyone with a scope is gonna spot him half a mile away."

"People are going to find out about this eventually, Nick," Kim tells him. She goes so far as to rest a hand on John's shoulder to emphasize her point, saying, "We can't keep his survival a secret forever."

Nick frowns, but Kim's right. Eventually, they're going to have to make a case for letting John live. So far, it's been alright, but... well, is John really worth staking their reputations on? Even if he was, has he done enough to prove that Nick hadn't made a dumb, sympathetic mistake? And if not, is Nick going to have to step aside and let somebody else do what he should have done months ago?

"Well, we've got time to figure it out," Nick admits at last, mostly because he doesn't want to think about it right now. Since it feels weird having a conversation about John right in front of him without addressing him at all , Nick offers him some direct commentary. "I guess you better just keep working on that good karma, huh?" he asks, aiming for smug but falling somewhat short.

"Yeah," John rasps. "I guess so."

The haircut does something for John's attitude, although it takes a few days before Nick notices. After a couple months of strange demureness, he begins to react to things like a goddamn human again. He can meet Nick's eyes now, although he struggles to hold the contact for more than a few seconds. When Nick or Kim tell him to do something, there's no more mute nodding. Instead, John will say, "Okay," or, "I understand." Sometimes, he'll even ask questions about the things they tell him to do, like where to move things or if he's doing something right. Once, after a few solid hours in too-bright-for-February sunlight, John asks Nick for a break, and it doesn't feel like selling out to let him sit down and have some lunch.

Of course, Nick never forgets that John is a manipulative user. He's got a way of seeming reasonable at first, going from pleasantries to stealing your land out from under you before anyone realizes he's dropped the kind and charitable act. Nick can't afford to forget that. There's nobody left in the world who could help him if John decides to toy with him this time around. Before the bombs, there had been laws and regulations and an entire justice system that he could get help from, but now? Now, if John decides he wants Nick's property more than he wants to make amends, all he's gotta do is take it.

Nick would like to believe that John isn't planning some sort of coup, that he's not just acting pitiable to drop their guard, but he's already taking so many risks with the guy. It's not safe to think John is playing along with Nick and Kim because he feels bad about what happened. That kind of low-ball expectation is exactly what caused Hope County to underestimate the Seeds before, and Nick isn't going to do that again.

John always seems tense whenever Carmina is around. She knows better than to directly address him, of course, since Kim and Nick have told her multiple times not to, but somehow she manages to work around the rules. She'll pretend he isn't around when she asks about his tattoos or scars or how his ear looks weird, and no amount of scolding manages to stop her. She asks for specifics about what he did to get in so much trouble, and why they're always watching him, and why he's not allowed to handle guns or knives or anything bigger than a hammerhead missing its handle. The healthier John looks, the more she asks about him, and now that he's got a haircut and clothes that hide most of his scars and tattoos, Carmina's fascination has started full force.

The only thing that keeps her from turning to John outright for her answers is his avoidance of her entirely. John goes out of his way to avoid looking at her, and if there's any distance to be gained between them, he's the one looking to gain it. Nick can't tell if he just isn't fond of kids, or if he has something personal against Carmina. The latter concept probably shouldn't irritate him so much, but — well, that's his daughter, man! He's obligated to be irritated when someone doesn't like her, even if that someone is his oldest enemy.

Thankfully, now that it's nicer out, Carmina has better things to do than sit around speculating on the guy living in the spare room. Nick takes her on an unsuccessful fishing trip, Kim takes her to visit Grace, and on days when nothing special is planned, she gets to run pretty much free, as long as she's within earshot.

One morning, as Kim and Carmina get ready to go meet up with Grace, Carmina asks, "Does dad always have to watch John?"

Nick thinks she waited specifically until Nick had brought John downstairs to ask, which is a little too cunning for his liking. "I'm not always watching him," Nick replies. "Sometimes it's your mom."

"We've told you," Kim chides gently. "John needs supervision."

John doesn't look up from his customary spot on the bottom stair, chewing through his breakfast. His shoulders are held tight, but otherwise, it's as if he can't even hear the conversation happening around him. Nick has to admit, he's impressed that John doesn't get more worked up when they talk about him like he's not there. It'd piss the hell out of Nick if he were in the other's shoes.

"We could take him with us," Carmina suggests. Since she's standing in front of her mom, she can't see the horrified expression that Kim directs Nick's way.

"Uh, I don't think that'd be a good idea," Nick says, which is usually what he says whenever he wants the conversation to end.

Apparently, that's not going to fly this time around, as Carmina pouts and asks, "But why not ?"

Kim puts her hands gently on Carmina's shoulders, sighing and saying, "It's complicated, honey."

Well, great, they just used both of their canned responses to her back-to-back. Carmina is a good kid — patient, kind, tolerant — but she knows when she's being given the runaround and she won't put up with any of it.

"That's what you always say," she complains. "I want to know why! I'm complicated too, I can handle it!"

"Carmina, it's not that easy —"

"I don't care!" Carmina exclaims. Her frustration is about to boil over as she whirls to face John. "I'm talking to you, now!" she demands, downright offended that she has to declare it. Carmina hasn't worked herself up into a riot for a while now, but she certainly hasn't lost her touch. "You're supposed to be a bad guy, but all you do is hang around all day! Don't you want to go outside? Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"

Nick has definitely told John not to address Carmina, but this feels like extenuating circumstances. It was bound to happen — there's only so many times you can write off the prisoner in your house as a disagreeable weirdo before your daughter demands answers. He just isn't sure that there's anything John can say that won't raise more questions, each one harder to answer than the last.

John finally looks up from his breakfast to offer Carmina an unimpressed stare. "I have no interest in speaking to you," he tells her. His voice is downright chilly, with a tone best reserved for dismissing an incompetent secretary with an NDA. It's borderline offensive to have John talk to his little girl that way, but the ice freezes Carmina's escalating tantrum in its tracks.

"O-Oh," she says, deflating almost immediately. It's only going to dissuade her for a couple of days, tops, but by then they'll have figured something to say. Something that will paper over history that Nick can't afford to hide from her forever — eventually, they're going to have to tell her just how big John's role was in their suffering. But it's going to require nuance, and a better explanation than, Daddy's just going with his gut, sweetie .

"I'll try to explain," Kim tells her, turning her away from John's visible disinterest and facing her towards the door. "You just have to be patient. We're doing our best."

" He's not," Carmina sulks. She pulls on her coat, offering Nick a gloomy, "Bye, dad," before Kim ushers her out of the house.

Nick turns to John as soon as they leave, ready to lecture him on how to talk to children, but John doesn't look remotely up for it. Just the one interaction has left him wiped, and there's a distant glaze to his eyes as he gets caught up in his own thoughts. He keeps getting trapped in his own head; it used to irritate Nick, but lately, it's just worrisome behavior that he's got to keep an eye on. Like Carmina having nightmares, or Kim taking out her stress on firewood.

"You sure know how to handle kids," Nick winds up saying, which isn't exactly the fight he'd wanted to start.

John closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do you have something else for me to do today other than talk?" he sighs. He's trying for irritation, but he only manages to sound exhausted.

Nick can't help but think he's hit a nerve. Worse, he feels bad about it. He tries to brush it off, asking, "Well, what do you wanna do — pull siding or chop firewood?"

"Does it matter what I want?" John replies.

Damn, but John has perfected that cool dismissal, leaving Nick feeling chastised. "I guess not," he grouses.

Nick is definitely sulking as he sets John to removing some rotten siding. Thankfully, he has a whole bunch of wood to take his frustration out on. He's got John right in view, and he knows how to throw an ax and sometimes even hit things with one, so he should be fine. Anyway, John only ever has eyes for his work — Nick's not sure if escaping is really on his mind anymore. Sort of like feeding raccoons. You do it because you don't want them to go hungry, like any decent person, and the next thing you know they've stopped foraging and come by like clockwork every Wednesday night until the apocalypse.

Actually, maybe that's Stockholm syndrome? Nick isn't sure. He sure hopes not.

The day goes by as uneventfully as any other. It's not particularly hot out, but the sun is out and the birds are singing in true springtime fashion. It's actually a pretty nice day when all's said and done; Nick takes a minute or two after he finishes chopping wood to enjoy the blue sky and the tall, somewhat decimated trees swaying in the breeze. It's quiet all around, feeling like the edge of the world for a second or two before distant gunshots remind him that they aren't truly alone out here. He doubts it's anything to worry about, and he's sure that it has nothing to do with Kim and Carmina meeting Grace, but he still worries about it enough to chop down a few more logs.

Afterward, Nick definitely could use a break, sweaty and tired and a little hungry. John looks mostly done, too, having taken off nearly all of the section Nick had outlined for him. There's enough scrap to make plenty of shingles to finish the roof, even if it means leaving some of the house exposed. The nails will be useful, too, and Kim can probably figure out what to make with the unusable bits of wood.

"C'mon," he calls, shaking his canteen in John's direction, "Get some water. Then, you can start pulling any nails out of the boards that managed to survive. We can't afford to run out of those if we're gonna fix up the hangar."

John takes a gratefully large drink before he asks, "What's the point? You don't have a plane."

Nick rolls his eyes. Great, now he's got another petulant child asking dumb questions to deal with. "No, asshole, I don't. But I figure the house isn't really big enough for all the supplies we're gonna need. Wood, siding, sheet metal, not to mention the generator that's been sitting in the closet for longer than you've been here. There's that old chest freezer in there, maybe it'll still work." He waves towards the building, which is missing a good deal of its roof, RYE & SON faded across the front. "I'm not just gonna leave it like that."

John doesn't have anything to say to that — if he does, he keeps it to himself. Which is good. Fine! Nick doesn't need, or want , John to argue with him about the damn hangar.

Together, they drag long strips of old siding to the porch, where Nick has John sit while he gets to work on dinner, which is going to be classic, leftover-meat-and-potato stew. By the time Carmina and Kim get back, Nick will have everything taken care of and under control here. Kim will have probably figured out what to tell Carmina to keep her from putting too much trust in John, without telling her the gruesome, not-safe-for-children details. They'll sit down and talk about going fishing, and hopefully this time Nick won't ruin the stew with too much salt.

Carmina comes running towards the house a good hour before Nick expected her to be back. His heart immediately leaps into his throat as he imagines why she's alone, why she's towards him looking so upset. Thankfully, Kim is following right behind, which stops him from blocking Carmina as she bolts up the back porch and inside without a backward glance. The relief Nick feels at seeing Kim is short-lived as he realizes she isn't alone — Grace is standing there beside her, rifle in hand, staring across the backyard at John Seed sitting on the porch with a pile of nails at his feet.

"Ah, shit," is the first thing that Nick manages to say. He turns to John, with a fresh haircut and his sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos, and he knows there's no mistaking him for anybody else. Grace is going to take one look at him through her scope and pop his head clean off his shoulders. "Don't move, don't speak, don't do anything ," Nick warns him. "Just... sit there, okay? Carmina's just upstairs. I don't want her to hear you get your brains blown out because you decided now was the time to bolt."

John doesn't respond, but he also doesn't move, frozen with a piece of wood clutched loosely in his hands. That should count for something. Nick turns back to Kim and Grace, who still haven't come any closer. Kim is talking to Grace, who may or may not be listening to whatever she's trying to say. All Nick knows is that Grace has him pinned dead to rights with an immeasurably pissed off glare.

He should be worrying less about John getting shot and more about Grace shooting him . Shit, should he go over to them and try to patch things up? That would be leaving John unattended. That would look bad for them, right?

Finally, Grace begins an approach. She's got her rifle clutched against her chest, her stony gaze sliding from Nick to John. Kim hovers behind her, anxiously giving Grace some distance as she tries to explain everything to Nick through frantic hand gestures alone.

Grace reaches the fire pit before she stops. She looks at the stew, bubbling in the pot, then to John, and finally to Nick.

"So it's true," she says.

"I know you're probably angry," Nick begins. From Grace's sharp glare, it's the wrong way to start the conversation.

"Angry doesn't begin to describe how I feel right now, Nick," she replies flatly. Nick starts to suspect that she's only holding on to her gun to keep herself from wailing on him. "You're harboring a goddamn cult leader in your home! You've been hiding John Seed in your home for months — what the hell are you thinking? Have you two forgotten what this maniac did to all of us?" She points accusingly at his chest, "Did you forget what he did to you ?"

"Of course I haven't!" Nick struggles not to raise his voice, trying desperately to maintain some kind of diplomacy with one of his oldest and closest friends. But he doesn't have any defense prepared for John, and he's not all that willing to defend him to begin with, so being backed into a corner isn't helping. "How could I? That's the reason he's here — he owes us!"

Kim jumps in to plead with Grace. "It's like I told you," she insists. "Nick gave him an ultimatum. He's been sticking by it."

Grace is overwhelmed enough that she spits in disgust. "You made a deal with a devil to mend fences and pull nails?" she asks. "You think that's what he owes Hope County? Some housework ? Is that really worth rekindling the god-damned cult?"

"Hey, there's none of that bullshit around here. John," Nick instructs, "Tell her."

"It's true," John rasps. He's pale and trembling, looking like he might faint. "Eden's Gate is dead."

"What makes you think I'd believe a word you'd say?" Grace snaps. "You're nothing but a murderous conman. Don't you dare speak to me."

"You don't need to believe him," Kim says, moving in to distract Grace's lethal glare from John. "You can believe us. The cult destroyed everything, and then it destroyed itself. All we're trying to do is put the pieces back together the best we can. For everyone ."

"You can't possibly think this is a good idea," Grace says, a distinct accusation buried in her words. "He's lying to you. He's using you two. And you're just going to let him?" When neither of them immediately respond, she scoffs loudly. "Unbelievable. If Rook were here..."

"You know exactly what they would do," Kim says.

Grace taps an irritated beat against her rifle, scowling first at Kim, then at John. She's probably trying to stare him to death. Nick's just glad she isn't directing that lethal glare his way. "And what do you expect me to do?" she asks.

Nick is sure that if Grace chooses to shoot John, he'll let it happen. He worries about the aftermath, about his relationship with Grace, about Carmina's wellbeing, about the kind of post-apocalyptic world they'd finally be living in, but he's sure that he won't try to stop her. Mostly sure. Pretty sure.

Lord , Nick prays, Please do not test me on this one today.

"I'm hoping you'll trust us to do what's right," Kim says, concluding what sounds like a defense she's been building since this whole mess started. Nick can only imagine what the walk back home must have been like.

For a moment, Grace doesn't move, her jaw clenching as she considers the stakes. Nick doesn't know what makes the decision for her, but finally, she eases up on her gun. "I must be an idiot," she mutters to herself, before addressing the two of them directly. "The minute he reveals his true colors, you tell me."

"Yeah," Nick says, surprised at how breathless he sounds. Had he been holding his breath? "Yeah, obviously."

"You're making me take a huge risk that I don't want to take," she informs them grimly, ignoring John as if her life depends on it. " Don't make me regret it."

Grace storms away with such righteous anger that Nick almost doesn't catch the retreat for what it is. He can hardly believe that she's leaving, still tensed for the gunshot he'd thought was inevitable. As soon as Grace disappears from view, John lurches from his seat, sweaty face going gray. He barely manages to stagger to the corner of the house before he throws up, clutching the wall for support.

Nick will handle that in a minute. First, though, he turns to ask his wife, "What the hell happened?"

"God, Nick, it was a disaster," Kim sighs, looking pale and trembly herself. "Carmina was still upset when we met Grace, and she spilled everything. I tried to soften the blow, to, you know, explain, but Grace didn't believe any of it at first, and then Carmina was talking about him being in our room all night..."

"Jesus." Nick rubs his eyes, then wraps his arms around Kim, feeling her melt into the hug. "I should've been there. I should've told Grace before Carmina could get the chance." He groans quietly, "Damn it, she's probably still freaking out up there."

"She was convinced Grace was going to kill him," Kim tells him. "She thought it was all her fault."

Nick sighs. "This was a big mistake. I should've taken him to Grace when I found him. Carmina doesn't deserve any of this."

Gently breaking away from the hug, Kim looks briefly towards John before gesturing towards the house. "I should go check on her. She needs to know everything is... well, stable. For now, anyway."

"Yeah, you do that. I'll, uh... I'll deal with this mess."

Nick watches Kim go inside, and then turns to watch the pathway Grace had disappeared down. He half expects to see her lurking in the bushes, but he knows Grace better than that. She would never let him see her coming if that were the case.

John sits down heavily against the side of the house, pale and wracked with uncontrollable tremors. It's not the reaction that Nick is used to — whenever he waved his gun around, John always seemed patiently resigned, waiting for the time when Nick would finally make good on his hollow threats. Grace hadn't even pointed her rifle at him, and he's losing his damned lunch.

Nick catches John muttering to himself as he approaches, but he doesn't hear the words, and John shuts up when he gets too close. He stands over John for a minute, but the move seems too aggressive when John looks up at him with saucer-wide eyes. Reluctantly, he crouches down, his knee popping in complaint.

"Well," Nick says, when John just stares at him, "Looks like you're still in one piece." When that doesn't get a reaction, he scrubs his beard and tries another approach. "I guess Carmina doesn't take the cold shoulder very well, huh?"

John takes a shaking breath. "She should have killed me," he rasps. "Why didn't she kill me?"

"Honestly, I've got no idea. I guess she probably didn't want Carmina to think it was her fault or something. I mean, she might've decided Kim and I know what we're doing, but..." Well, considering that Nick isn't too sure what he's doing, he doubts that's the case. All Nick knows is that he's glad he doesn't have to clean John's brain matter out of the wood. "Well, either way, you're still here."

"I am," John agrees, soundly deeply unsure about it. He takes a breath, then another, although neither seems to calm him down much. "I'll get back to work, I just need... I need a minute."

Nick had completely forgotten about the siding. He'd forgotten about the food on the fire, too, although it's bound to be fine, it's stew . He finds himself wanting to give John the rest of the night off, to... who knows, process what happened? Give him a chance to get his head on straight, to figure out what he might say the next time someone comes waving a gun at him? Nick's not sure what John's free time would even entail. Nick really hasn't been giving him any.

"Stop looking at me like that," John rasps. "I'm fine. I can still work."

Nick's not sure how to change his expression, but he can at least try not to openly pity the guy. "Fine, whatever. Look — take a break for now. I'll tell you when you can get back to it."

John nods, dropping his head back against the wall with a dull thud. He closes his eyes almost immediately, like he might just pass out then and there, and Nick knows that he's got to be finished for the day. Since Nick is the one timing the break, John won't notice if Nick lets him rest, and if he wants to complain, he can go eat a boot.

The stew is ready inside of an hour, although Nick had planned to let it sit for a while to thicken. Kim comes downstairs at some point with her cheeks blotchy red from tears, but she gives Nick an immediate smile to let him know everything is alright. She looks John's direction, but the guy hasn't moved for the last thirty minutes, so he isn't much to look at.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Nick asks her, unable to help himself.

"I want to think so," Kim replies, rubbing his back gently. "We'll see."

Kim calls Carmina down for dinner, but who knows how long it will take before she actually drags herself downstairs. It's been a pretty heavy day, so Nick doesn't blame her for wanting to hide for a little while longer.

He doesn't know if it would be better or worse to let John sleep through dinner, but the guy did throw up half of his lunch, so he probably needs the food. Going to John's side, Nick almost kicks him awake, but that feels too aggressive after everything that's happened. Tomorrow, Nick can go back to being a dick to him. For now, he settles on nudging John's shoulder until he seems to come to.

"C'mon," Nick says, "It's time to eat."

Maybe John hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. He looks around as though he's never seen the backyard before, not quite comprehending the hazy late-afternoon glow that showed up while he was out. "What happened?" he asks, visibly dreading the answer.

Nick can't help but roll his eyes. "You fell asleep," he says. "It's a real shocker. Told you, even a kid can do it."

John frowns. He looks towards the pile of siding, ready to calculate how much work he's missed, but Nick nudges him with his foot to distract him.

"I figure, if you sit here and don't move, maybe you can stay down here to eat. At least that way, Carmina will know you didn't get shot at on her account."

There's something in John's expression that implies he might want to argue the point, but he doesn't. He nods, remaining seated as Nick goes back to the fire. He doesn't move when Kim comes out of the house with four bowls and spoons, although he watches her like he's expecting a bomb to go off in her hand.

"Is he okay?" Kim asks Nick over the pot, keeping her voice low as she watches John out of the corner of her eye. "He's staying down here?"

"Bad idea?" Nick asks. "I can move him, I just figured..."

"No, it's okay." She pats his arm. "Good work with dinner."

Carmina comes downstairs with all the reluctance of a girl with a straight-D report card. She trudges down the porch steps with her head down, looking at her parents briefly through her hair before she swivels her unhappy gaze towards John.

"Hey, honey," Nick calls as she solemnly makes her way over to where John is sitting, trying in vain to reel her back. She ignores him, coming to a stop some five feet in front of John, well out of his reach by instinct alone. Nick can't see her face, but he can hear her teary voice.

"I'm sorry, John," she apologizes, her hands clasped in front of her and her head bowed like she might never look anyone in the eye again. Nick has to clamp down on the visceral reaction he has to his own daughter apologizing to John Seed , but he manages to choke it down even if it risks souring his dinner.

For his part, John looks more ready to bolt now than he did when Grace had been actively threatening him. His heels dig into the dirt as he presses himself against the wall, eyes darting as he calculates an escape route. When neither Nick nor Kim attempt to pull Carmina away, he flings a wild glance their way, but there's no avoiding the little girl's apology.

"It's okay," he tells her, his throat almost dry enough to strangle the words. Carmina must not seem convinced, because he continues uneasily, "You didn't do anything wrong."

Thankfully, Carmina accepts the sentiment readily. Nick doesn't know if he could handle her insisting he take her apology. "Dad," she says, apparently satisfied enough to rise out of her morose mood, "Are we going fishing tomorrow still?"

"I don't see why not."

Nick's glad for the subject change. It's fun to tease Carmina, who keeps insisting she's good at fishing even though she's never caught anything, and it keeps her distracted from John. John doesn't seem to mind being left alone to eat. He seems miles away from the house and the conversation, distracted by the darkening path that Grace had disappeared down. He eats slowly, waiting for something to happen. Probably waiting for Grace to come back and finish what Nick started months ago.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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chimchimsauce · 5 years

Text

Hit or Miss (2)

In a desperate attempt to rebuke the advances of her overly energetic coworker, YN asks her quiet roommate Jungkook to pretend to be her boyfriend until Taehyung lays off. But YN comes to realize that there’s more to the quiet man than she could have ever imagined.

I guess they never miss, huh?

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Chapter One

Chapter Two - Take My Hands Now

Jungkook sleeps through the rest of the day, forcing YN to go to work on Tuesday without getting her story straight with him. She's half afraid that Jungkook's texted her coworker in the middle of the night and told him to clown her, but thankfully that doesn't seem to be the case. When Taehyung shows up for his shift partway through hers, YN is greeted with a preppy smile and his usual greetings minus the overly affectionate pet names. He doesn't try to speak much to her at all, never purposefully seeking her out or lurking near the shelves she has to restock. It's so peaceful that YN actually enjoys her shift, finding herself humming along quietly to songs she's heard on the radio as she files books according to the Dewey decimal system.

She's almost sad when her shift is over and she has to head to class. By the time her two-hour lecture is over, she's convinced her stomach is seconds away from consuming her liver, the anxiety caused by the fake boyfriend situation having prevented her from eating anything since her lunch break yesterday.

Almost as if he knew what she was thinking, YN receives a text from Jungkook as she leaves her classroom.

Hey, wanna grab lunch? We need to talk about this boyfriend thing

Above this text, there are only a couple more messages, most of them where YN had asked Jungkook to pick up toilet paper or groceries.

Yeah, sounds good. I just got out of class, where do you wanna meet?

His reply is instantaneous.

Einstein Bagels?

I'll be there in ten.

The restaurant is relatively empty, as it's after the typical lunch hour rush. Besides Jungkook, there's only one other patron in the store, a petite girl with airpods in and an open notebook out in front of her. YN figures it's relatively safe to talk here. She makes her way to the table her roommate is sitting at, noticing how absolutely stunning he looks. YN's steps falter until she's standing still ten feet away from him.

How had she never noticed before?

Sunlight streams in through the open window he sits beside, casting shadows on his face. His eyes are closed as he taps a pencil on the table to the beat of the song he's listening to through a single earbud stuck in his right ear. His left leg is bent, toe of expensive looking, white Nike sneakers pressed flat against the dingy linoleum while his right is fully expended, incredibly well-fitting jeans emphasizing his legs beautifully. A plain white t-shirt is tucked into his pants and secured with a simple black belt.

He's chewing on his bottom lip slightly before his eyes flick open and he looks at her, startling her out of her daze. Ignoring the question in his eyes, YN takes her seat across from him, placing her bag down.

"I'll go order first then we can talk, okay?" she says, moving to stand back up.

"Don't worry about it, I already ordered,"

"How'd you know what I wanted?"

"Who do you think tosses the old sandwiches from this place?"

"Oh," YN says, awkwardly settling back in.

"So?"

"So . . .,"

A beat of silence passes.

"You don't have any plan, do you?"

"No, not really," YN says, slumping down and sighing, "I'm so sorry about this, I shouldn't have gotten you involved. Just tell Taehyung I was lying to him and spare yourself,"

"Nah," Jungkook says, "It's too late now, I'm already involved. Even if I were to say that you're lying, Tae'd give me hell for it. Since your little lie has pretty much ruined my chances of going out and getting a real girlfriend, I'll just have to settle for you instead,"

"Excuse you?" YN says, a quick flash of hurt sparking in her.

"I don't do things halfway. Since you told Taehyung I'm your boyfriend now, I'm your boyfriend now,"

"Seriously?" YN says, not believing the words coming from his mouth are real.

"Seriously,"

"But you don't know anything about me,"

Jungkook raises an eyebrow but before he can retaliate, their order is called, Jungkook standing up to retrieve it. YN would be lying if she said she didn't watch him as he left.

He has a nice butt.

"I don't know why you think that," Jungkook says, placing her food in front of it.

It the same thing she always orders from here. He even ordered her favorite soda.

"I mean I've lived with you for two semesters. I know quite a lot about you,"

"Like what?" YN says, skeptical.

They've spoken more in the last twenty-four hours than the last eight months.

"You always sing when you're in the shower. You're cold even when it's sixty-five degrees. Your socks don't match, you can't cook for anything, you play with your hair when you're nervous, you like books more than people, you -"

"Okay, okay!" YN says, watching the smug look on Jungkook's face grow wider, "I got it,"

Jungkook unwraps his sandwich and takes a large bite.

"Since you've practically ignored my entire existence and lied to my friend about dating me, I think you owe me this much at least,"

Feeling guilty and having no real other option, YN sighs.

"Okay. Okay, whatever you say,"

"Great, then let's go," Jungkook says, standing abruptly and shoving the rest of his sandwich down his throat.

"Go where? I haven't even started my food!" YN says, picking up her meal quickly as Jungkook takes her by the arm and drags her outside, "Jungkook! Where are we going?"

"You're going to meet my friends. Taehyung already opened his fat mouth and told everybody and they’ve been blowing up my phone all day pestering me,”

“But!” YN says, stumbling over her feet slightly, “What am I going to say to them?”

She’s panicking slightly. In between all of her shifts and study sessions, she’s forgotten how not to be totally awkward in social situations.

“Just be natural!” he says, briefly turning towards her and flashing her a gorgeous smile, “They’re gonna love you!”

“I sure do,” he finishes quietly, speaking under his breath.

In ten minutes or so, the couple arrives at a building YN’s never been to before, giant windows displaying various people in soundproof rooms, singing or playing some sort of instrument.

“This is the music building,” Jungkook explains, politely opening the door for her.

Cool air rushes forward and cools her slightly sweaty face. Running and heat are never a good combination.

“Do you play?” she asks, looking around the hallway in interest.

There are several framed photographs of what appear to be large scale performances, several hundred people watching various displays of talent. There’s a large trophy case with dozens or golden prizes and ribbons inside, even a couple of dried flowers shoved between the shelves.

“Oh my God, is that you?” YN asks, letting go of Jungkook’s hand and pressing her nose onto the glass.

The photograph in particular she’s looking at shows her new boyfriend sitting on a stool, microphone in hand while a few other people stand behind him, holding instruments.

“Yeah, that was my freshman year. My friends and I managed to win the state competition for best new band,”

“Oh wow, you must be good then,” YN says, backing away from the case and smiling at him.

Handsome and talented? Maybe this lie will turn out to be a good thing.

Jungkook chuckles.

“We’re alright, I guess,”

“Alright?” a new voice interjects, causing the duo to turn around, “We’re hella good, mate, don’t sell us short,”

At the girl’s obvious look of confusion, the new man smiles brightly.

“I’m Hoseok, one of this dumbass’ friends, but you can call me Hobi,”

Hobi stands tall with straight shoulders and a bright, heart-shaped smile revealing identical dimples in his cheeks. His hair is a bizarre shade of orange, but it suits his caramel skin tone quite well.

“Hey!” Jungkook protests.

“Nice to meet you, Hobi!” YN says, the man’s bright demeanor making her feel comfortable instantly.

“You too, doll. Hey, J.K., why didn’t you tell me she was so pretty?”

YN blushes, not expecting the compliment.

“Thank you,”

“Watch it,” Jungkook jokingly threatens, resuming his pace.

YN and Hoseok follow along, all three of them falling into a simple but funny conversation. By the time they arrive at a closed wooden door, YN’s nearly in stitches from how hard she’s laughing at one of Hobi’s stories. Tears are welling up in her eyes when the door swings open to reveal a short man with his hand on his hip, looking slightly annoyed.

“Took you long enough,” he says, glaring at Jungkook before breaking into a bright smile as he meets YN’s gaze.

“Hi! I’m Jimin! Kookie’s told us a lot about you,” he says, flicking his pitch black hair out of his eyes and revealing a pair of silver dangly earrings.

“He has?” she asks, slightly confused.

Jimin’s expression changes quickly.

“Well not a ton but enough for us to make him drag you here,” he pauses for a moment, “Come in, come in!”

Jimin steps to the side and the three of them enter, YN placing her food down on a table by the door. There’s one more man inside, one even shorter than Jimin, whose earbuds are shoved in his ears, blonde head bopping slowly as he scribbles on a large legal pad.

“Yoongi!” Jimin shouts, unsuccessfully attempting to grab his attention.

“Yoongi!” Hoseok shouts, tossing a pencil at him.

The man looks incredibly annoyed when he looks up but quickly loses that expression when he notices the stranger in their midsts. He pulls the earbuds out of his ears.

“You’re YN, right?”

His voice is considerably lower than she expected to come from such a little man.

“Ah, yeah. I’m Jungkook’s girlfriend,”

It feels bizarre to say that.

“I know. I’m glad you could make it,”

“Me too,” YN says, even though she’s not exactly sure what she’s made it to.

“Is Taehyung coming?” Jimin asks.

“Nah, he’s got work today,” Hobi says, grabbing an electric blue sitting on the stadium bleachers in the room.

YN frowns slightly. Usually, Taehyung doesn’t work this shift at the library.

“Does he have another job?” she asks, sitting down a bit away from Hobi and unwrapping her sandwich.

“Ah, yeah,” Yoongi says, standing and placing his legal pad down.

“You boys ready?” Jungkook says, picking up a microphone from the wall.

“Yup, let’s go!”

YN spends the next hour and a half being absolutely blown away. Hoseok was right, Jungkook did sell their band short. She completely understands how they were able to win at the state level. Each one of them is incredibly talented. Jungkook sings the lead vocals, assisted by Jimin. Hoseok plays every note on the guitar perfectly and Yoongi’s piano is nearly enough to bring her to tears. At first glance, YN would have expected them to be a more traditional band, but most of the songs they play are slow and soulful, nearly erotic. Any fun loving personalities they previous had have been completely masked by a sure, nearly painful persona, the look in Jungkook’s eyes causing YN’s skin to erupt in goosebumps. When they finish rehearsal, YN is shell shocked.

“So,” Jungkook begins, slightly out of breath, “What did you think?”

“What did I - you’re amazing! So amazing, what the heck! All of you are so talented, oh my God,” YN says, addressing all of them.

“Thank you!” they all chorus.

As Jungkook and YN are walking back to their apartment, neither of them having any more classes for the day, YN can’t help but stare at him in shock.

“What?” he asks, turning around and walking backward.

“I just . . . why did you agree to go along with my stupid lie? You’re actually so amazing. I don’t get it,”

“Amazing? How?”

“Are you being serious?” YN asks, flabbergasted, “You’re incredibly attractive, you dress like a model, and your voice is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I really don’t get it, you should take laughed in my face as soon as I asked you about dating me,”

Jungkook stops so abruptly that YN bumps into his chest.

“What?” she asks, surprised by the look on his face.

“Don’t say that,” his voice deadly serious.

YN is silent, not quite sure how to react.

“I have a confession to make. I agreed to date you because I like you,”

“Me? Why?” YN asks, genuinely confused.

He’s at least four points more attractive than she is, hands down. She doesn’t do anything remotely interesting. She’s not even good at keeping their house clean.

“Why does anybody like anybody? I just do,”

“Okay,” YN says, not really believing him.

“Give me your hands,”

“What?”

Jungkook extends both of his hands, palm up.

“Take my hands now,”

Slowly glancing between his hands and his face, YN reaches out, laying her palms on top of his.

“Don’t worry, I’ll prove it to you,”

Chapter Three

#networkbangtan #bts #bts x reader #jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #kookie #kookie x reader #bts college au #hit or miss

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fanfics-await-you · 4 years

Text

I never know what to expect from him (Part 2)

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Female OC

Summary: Poe Dameron is your friend, your fellow resistance fighter, but most of all he's a goddamn pain in your ass. And yeah, maybe you're falling for him and well yes, it seems like he's falling for you too, but now REALLY isn't the time.

Tags: angst, a pair of dumbasses unnecessarily complicating things, minor ROS spoilers

notes: yeah, it’s been a bit, sorry. Yes, there are literally overlapping themes/lines with the last thing I wrote but I will not apologise. I write what I write lol. I also thought of the quote from the Christmas movie in here when it was Christmas time, so it’s fine. Also, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen the movie now so if anything’s wrong sorry, I’m going off memory. I genuinely cannot remember like anything about the general fleet after the lightning happened?

Inspired by: @polkanote‘s post & @andhumanslovedstories‘s post

Word Count: 1,642

masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

I would follow you anywhere…

The noise of the party continues to pound in my ears like a drumbeat. I don’t move. A moment passes, and then another. I try to find the words to describe the flurry that is going on in my mind. Poe saves me the trouble.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

I can’t take my eyes from his face. Poe’s expression is tight with tension and his eyes are troubled.

He speaks again, “I shouldn’t-I shouldn’t have put you in this position, I’m-I’m sorry.”

My mind finally catches up to the situation as he pulls away from my touch. The absence of Poe’s warmth at my side spurs me to action. As he takes a step away, my hand darts out to grab his arm. As Poe turns around, my hand slides down his forearm until our fingers are touching.

“Poe, I don’t understand.”

“I know, I shouldn’-“

“No, I don’t understand why you’re leaving.”

I intertwine our fingers and then use my grip to pull him closer. Poe’s face is conflicted, but he doesn’t fight me.

The words come out as a whisper, “I never said that you couldn’t come with me.”

His breath catches slightly before Poe turns away and pulls his hand from mine to distractedly push his hair away from his face. His rejection stings but I don’t let it stop me; for once, when it comes to Poe, I am feeling brave. I step towards him so that we’re almost touching and place my hand in the middle of Poe’s chest. He looks at me in surprise and then down at my hand. I can feel the quick thump-thump of his heart beneath my fingers and all I want to do is sink into his warmth.

“Poe.” He doesn’t meet my eyes.

I speak again, “Poe.”

His gaze finally finds mine, and everything that I’ve been dying to tell him tumbles out in the form of a single, breathy sentence.

“Poe, I never said that I didn’t want follow you too.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, like he’s fortifying himself, before gently taking my hand from its place on his chest. Then, steadily like he might startle me, Poe adjusts it so that my palm faces the ground. He raises my hand upwards and places my knuckles against his mouth for a moment.

He murmurs against my fingers, “Kess, it’s not that I don’t want this.”

Slowly, always slowly, Poe cradles my hand against his chest.

He speaks softly, “In fact, all I want to do most days is grab you and get on the next freighter out of here…The thought of you being mine but getting hurt anyway- I- I-” He trails off.

I can almost sense what he’s about to say next before he even starts speaking; mainly because the same thought is playing in my head.

“And that’s exactly why this can’t happen. I can’t give myself the choice between you and the Resistance.”

With a quiet exhale, he lets go of my hand.

“Because if I’m honest…I need to be here but I’m always going to want to choose you.”

I want to fight him. I want to say he’s wrong. I want to be selfish and demand that he stays right here in front of me. Most of all, I want to say fuck the Resistance if it means that I lose you. But that’s exactly it, that’s the problem. What’s more, I gave up the right to be selfish the day I signed my name on the dotted line and became a soldier. So, I say the only thing that there’s really left to say; the one thing that my thumping heart is telling me not to do.

“I understand.”

Poe closes his eyes and nods slightly, like he’s in pain.

“But I just need to you to know one thing.”

He opens his eyes and for a second, I can’t say it because it feels too much like goodbye. I want to forget my responsibilities and just want to drown in the warmth of his eyes and mouth and hands and-

“Given the chance, I’d follow you to the end of the universe and back ten times over,” my tone is steady despite the fact that I feel lost at sea.

Poe’s sad smile is like a stab to the stomach, but I force myself to keep my hands at my side as much as I want to pull him closer.

“We can’t do this again, can we…I don’t think that I’d be able to resist your charms twice,” his tone attempts to be playful but just sounds ragged.

Poe’s gaze doesn’t leave my face as he takes one small step backwards, and then another. Every step feels like another mile between us that I don’t think we’re ever going to be able to cross. I want to say but I can’t lose you completely, that some days the thought of your smile is the only thing that keeps me going.

As if he can hear me, Poe throws one last line over his shoulder with a soft chuckle as he turns away, “Call it self-preservation.”

I only find something to say once his figure has melted back into the party that I had all but forgotten. It doesn’t mean anything now that he’s gone, but I say it anyway.

“Goodbye, Poe. Maybe in a better life.”

---

“I’m hit! I repeat, Black Eight is hit! One wing is compromised. I am losing altitude!”

Radio silence is all that responds.

Forks of lightning are everywhere, and the world feels wrong; this choking, paralytic intensity is clawing its way through my chest. I’m battling the controls but it’s useless. A laser cannon blast tore through my left wing not a minute ago, causing me to dive, and these unnatural bolts of lightning have robbed me of any remaining ability to steer. The ground is getting closer and closer and the goddamn parachute is increasingly seeming like the only option left. I’ll be a great big target for First Order guns, and I have a better chance of being hit by an errant X-wing than hitting the ground, but what’s my choice? Definitely burning to a crisp in this earth-bound hunk of metal or only maybe being shot to pieces? I’ll take a small chance over none any day.

I try the comms again, “Can anyone hear me? Black Eight has lost control and is diving! I’m going to bail!”

Again, only silence.

All Resistance ships are dropping, but thanks to my damaged wing the black earth is coming up on me fast. Fuck, I have to go now or I’m gonna be hitting the ground hard either way.

“I don’t know if anyone can hear me but I’m bailing. Any assistance is welcome!”

…

I’m alone.

“Fuck!”

With that, I pull on the oxy mask and pull the eject lever. I’m violently thrown from my fighter and the world spins beyond my control as the chute struggles to open. My sight alternates feverishly fast between streaks of purple light and black earth, and all I can hear the screaming rush of the air around me.

Why isn’t my goddamn shoot opening?!?

Then suddenly the light stops and my sight is swallowed by black.

---

The lightning suddenly disappears, and I wrestle back control of my X-wing.

“What the hell was that?!? Command, what’s the situation?! Black Squadron, report!”

Quickly, a few names (heart-sickeningly too few) sound off but there is one particular absence that stops my heart.

“Anyone got eyes on Kess?”

It’s Jess who responds finally responds, her tone tight, “Poe…her fighter took damage before the lightning…it didn’t look good.”

In an instant, I can’t breathe. This cockpit is too constricting as I desperately try to spot her X-wing in this mess of a battlefield. The general in me continues barking out orders and the pilot keeps shooting down Final Order freighters, but the simple man in me is distraught. My eyes keep darting from ship to ship, trying to spot her. It’s only when I dive steeply to avoid the debris of a freighter do I finally see Kess’s ship. The flicker of relief in seeing her airborne is quickly swallowed by dismay as I notice how quickly she’s plummeting. Automatically, I push my controls in a deep dive towards her.

“KESS!”

The two-way channel just hisses a static that sets my nerves on fire.

“Kessandra! Kess, answer me!”

It’s like I’m watching in slow-motion as the scene unfolds: I’m gaining speed on her, thinking maybe I can help or do something when suddenly there’s a massive explosion in the nose of her fighter. Within a moment, the entire X-wing has blown apart and is raining debris on a fleet of grounded ships. My world has gone absolutely silent but I can feel Kess’s name ripping out my throat. It burns with all the things I never told her and now will never have the chance. I repeatedly beat the console in front of me and beg someone to help her, to help me, but there’s no one who can change things and now there’s nothing left to do. She’s gone, she’s gone, oh Maker she’s dead. I vaguely hear someone through the comms, but their words are hazy and I can’t understand them. For a second, all I want to do is let go, to plummet downwards to stop the heavy ache in my chest that is threatening to consume me. Then through all the grief, the blazing and white-hot fury of everything that I have lost sweeps over me like a tsunami. I clench my hands around my controls and fly back into the battle. I steel my voice despite the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Let’s burn these fuckers to the ground!”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron #star wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #my works

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softnow · 5 years

Text

paracosm [ch. i]

msr | college au | this chapter: gen | words: 1851

university of maryland, 1982. fox mulder is in love with the library girl.

this fic wouldn't exist without @o6666666 who has been the biggest cheerleader/brainstorm partner. thank u ily. also: if you go to umd, went to college in the 80s, or specifically went to umd in the 80s...sorry. we’re doing our best but we’re taking liberties here, folks. tagging @today-in-fic.

ao3.

— — —

Fox Mulder is in love with the library girl.

Or, well, enamored with, at least. Smitten with. Big-time crushin’ on.

He sees her for the first time in the fiction section, kicking along a step stool and dragging a re-shelving cart, putting Dickens and Dostoevsky back where they belong. Her messy red bob is bright against the classic lit beige, and her little blue jeans make his palms itch. She’s about five-foot-nothing, has to tip-toe even with the step stool, and her thin white t-shirt tugs out of her waistband a little more each time she stretches. It’s entrancing.

So entrancing that he stands there for longer than he should, Vonnegut clutched in his fist, forgotten. Long enough for her to notice, balanced up on her stool, a book halfway to the shelf. She glances at him briefly over her shoulder, then slides the book home and looks back at him again. A slim eyebrow arches.

“Can I help you?”

Her voice is deeper than he expected, but soft. She blinks at him, eyes big behind gold wire-rims. Her face waits somewhere between expectant and impatient.

“No, uh—no,” he says, shaking his head, backing away.

She stares at him a moment longer before returning to her cart.

Boys, he says when he gets home, boys, you aren’t going to believe it. He says, I think I might be in love.

—

A week later, it’s the circulation desk.

It’s late, not quite ten. He has a history exam tomorrow, and the guys have their Dungeons & Dragons buddies over. Seven dudes shouting about wizards and dexterity checks in his living room means he can’t focus at all. So he goes to the library.

He’s not thinking about that girl—really, he’s not. Not about her fluffy bangs or her slim hips or her soft, rich voice. Not at all. He’s just looking for a place to study, that’s it. Just somewhere quiet to blow through the Renaissance and call it a night.

But she’s right there, perched on a chair behind the counter, when he walks through the door. Her sweater is dark blue and speckled, like she’s taken a bit of the night sky and wrapped it around her for warmth. She bows over a book, chin resting in her sleeve-covered palms, coppery hair falling in waves around her face.

For a moment, he considers heading straight to the third-floor reading nook, the one in the religion section that the freshmen haven’t discovered yet. If he gets started now, maybe he can be in bed by midnight.

But then he looks at the girl again. She nibbles on her bottom lip while she reads, and—well. Da Vinci’s been dead for four hundred years. He can wait a little longer.

Mulder hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder, crosses to the counter, and leans forward on his elbows. The girl looks up, chin still in her hands, that same expectant-impatient look on her face, and Jesus, this close, she has a whole sky map of freckles on her cheeks.

Whatever suave cool-guy thing he was going to say gasps and drowns in her Bora Bora-blue eyes. What comes out instead is: “Desk duty tonight. Easier to reach, huh?”

And, oh.

Real smooth. Real fuckin’ smooth. Foot, meet mouth. Earth? Feel free to open up anytime now.

The girl’s eyebrows shoot into her bangs. Then she sighs the sigh of someone who deals with dumbasses like him all the time.

“Are you ready to check out?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

She straightens in her chair, customer service-polite. “Your card, please.”

“No, I’m not—”

“Help you find something, then?”

“No, I don’t need—”

“Then what can I do for you?”

Rewind time? Let me start over?

“I just wanted—that is, I—uh. What are you reading?”

A beat. The girl stares at him. Her eyes really are breathtakingly beautiful, even when they’re sizing him up like he’s a bug that has just crawled into her soup.

“What am I reading?” she echoes, flat.

“Yeah, your, uh, your book there. Is it good?”

He can hear the clock on the wall behind her. Tick, tick, tick. Her silence stretches for so long that he starts to wonder if he wasn’t just speaking in his head.

Finally, she nods once. Curt. Up, down. “It’s fine.”

Cut your losses, kid. Walk away. But his mouth’s already off and running, the last to get the memo.

“Fine? Oh, well, fine—fine’s better than bad, right? What is it?”

She sighs again. Slides a thumb between the pages to mark her place and flips the cover shut. He reads the title upside down.

“The Principle of Relativity?” He whistles low. “Just a little light reading, huh? That’s cool. Physics is…cool.”

She blinks like a cat, slow and bored. Says, “Yeah.”

He shoves a hand through his hair and tries to smile. “I’m, uh, I’m Mulder. Fox. My first name’s…Fox. I’m just Mulder, though.”

Her strawberry mouth puckers and she nods again.

Okay, buddy. Move along.

“And you’re...?”

She tosses her book open. The cover makes a little thwap as it hits the counter. She taps the page.

“Busy.”

—

The next day, after his exam (which, after staying up until two in the morning replaying easier to reach, huh?, he’s certain he did not pass), he goes to the library.

She’s reading at the desk again, hair up in a little fountain ponytail. He thinks—though he’s not sure—that she might be trying to kill him.

“Ready to ch—oh.” Her face actually falls when she realizes it’s him. He’d laugh if she wasn’t so pretty. “You’re back.”

She has two tiny gold hoops in each ear, and he is overcome with the urge to touch them, to see if the metal is warm from her skin. He shoves his fists deep into his pockets instead.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says, “for last night. We got off on the wrong foot.”

She nods. She says, “Fine. Okay. Are you checking out this time?”

He laughs now; he can’t help it. She’s so serious. This little librarian. He doubts if she’s even twenty yet, but the prim line of her mouth is Ph.D.-stern.

“No, uh, I wanted to make it up to you.”

She folds her arms and her lips twitch into the barest hint of a smirk. “Make it up to me?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I was an ass last night, but I’d like to make it up to you. What do you say? Coffee tonight, my treat?”

She cocks her head to the side, and he almost has her smiling now, he’s sure of it.

“I have class tonight.”

“After that.”

“Homework.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

She shakes her head. “Work.”

“Okay.” He rests his elbows on the counter, gives her his most winning smile. “When are you free?”

A real smirk. Just a little one, but there. “I’m not.”

“Ever?”

“Not for coffee.”

“Dinner, then. A movie?”

She bends forward, mimicking his position from the other side of the counter, her nose only inches from his. She smells like cinnamon. He can’t breathe.

“Sorry, Fox-Just-Mulder. I’m not interested.”

“Because I was an ass?”

“Because…”

“I was an ass.” He nods, smiling. “I get it. Okay. A name, then. Just tell me your name.”

She taps a finger to her lips in thought and he really wishes she wouldn’t. He’s having a hard enough time keeping his eyes above sea level as it is.

“I thought you were supposed to be making it up to me. How’s me giving you something you making it up to me?”

Oh, but the library girl is fun.

“Well, I’m trying, but you won’t let me. Figure the least I can do is call you by your name.”

“Hmm.”

She sits back again, picks some fuzz off her cardigan (green today; she’s like a little Christmas elf). Her eyes cut up to his through her lashes and dart away. She straightens a stack of paper.

At last, she says, “Dana.”

“Dana.” He grins. Dana. It’s the prettiest name he’s ever heard.

—

He learns her schedule fast. He should; he’s there every day, leaning over the counter, cataloging her various sweaters and sighs.

He learns other things, too: she only wears glasses when she reads, she likes peanut M&Ms, she blasts through books faster than any person he’s ever seen. Carl Sagan on Monday, Susan Sontag on Tuesday, Toni Morrison on Wednesday, and he starts to suspect this girl might have been a child prodigy way back when. Maybe still is.

A week into this, he asks her—Dana, are you a genius?—and she doesn’t even look at him. Just flips the page, her mouth twisted into something trying not to be a smirk.

“You know,” he continues. It’s easier to talk when she’s not looking directly at him, her eyes like hypnotists’ perfect blue gems. “If you are a genius, you should tell me your last name. For when I hear it on the radio someday, I mean. ‘Dana So-and-So wins Nobel Prize.’ So I know it’s you.”

“Why would I want you to know it’s me?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Her jaw twitches, but she still doesn’t look up.

“I’m just saying,” he says. “It’d be nice one day, when you cure cancer or whatever, to be able to say ‘I knew her when.’” He leans down, crowding into her space, and lowers his voice. “And to satisfy everyone’s curiosity. Why, yes, she was always that beautiful.”

She looks up then, a sharp cut through her lashes, a stern glare belied by the soft flush on her cheeks.

“Mulder,” she warns, and he likes the way she says it. Mul-der.

“Yeah?”

She holds his gaze for a moment, and he can see himself reflected in her glasses. His ridiculous grin. The flop of hair he forgot to comb this morning, too concerned with making it to the library before class.

Then she looks away, eyes down, little pink tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. When she meets his eyes again, she is Professional Dana, all calm and poise.

“I have work to do,” she says and reaches for a stack of bookmarks on the edge of the desk. She taps them straight like a deck of cards.

He grins. “So you’re telling me I should go, then?”

She doesn’t look at him. She’s arranging pens in a cup by color now. “Mm-hmm.”

“And you won’t tell me your last name?”

Black pen, black pen, blue pen, red pen.

“You don’t need it.”

His grin widens and he leans in just a little farther. She doesn’t retreat. He likes that about her.

“If you say so,” he whispers.

She nods, curt. “I do.”

He straightens and hitches his backpack up on one shoulder.

“You’re a cruel woman, Dana,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She rolls her eyes and he almost—almost—misses the way she smiles when he turns away: small, private, like she doesn’t even mean to be smiling at all

#fox mulder #dana scully #msr #msr fanfic #txf #myfic #there are 46 days until i graduate #my college experience hasn't been nearly as enjoyable as theirs is gonna be #;) ;) ;)#ch 2 is done and will come maybe some time next week!#hope u like it!#but even if u don't!#i like it and am having a ball!#fox mulder is obsessed with dana scully in all universes ok!!!#paracosm

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ask-the-apocalypse-kids · 5 years

Text

Don’t sleep Chapter two

Summary: When an unknown epidemic that kills you if you sleep sweeps across the land, A group of survivors must try and figure out how to survive while staying awake for as long as they can. But some can’t keep their eyes open.

A/N: This is an au based on the podcast “The edge of sleep” by QCODE and Woodelf, narrated by Mark Fischbach. If you want to listen to the podcast yourself, it’s free to listen to on apple podcasts, Spotify, or anywhere else you can listen to podcasts.

Warnings: Cursing, brief description of vomiting, nightmares, fighting, some slight nsfw humor, death mentions

Chapter 2

It happened around 4 A.M...

Brody was working the night shift and the Santa Mero hospital in the ER. She always hated working night shifts because of how quiet it was. She didn’t like the silence. But she always hoped that someone new would come in and finally give her something to hone her skills. That’s what she loved about her job. The fact that the night could change at any given moment. At any point, a crisis could happen and the night could finally be interesting.

“Hey Brody.” Brody snapped out of her tired daze when her close work friend, Rebecca, greeted her at her desk. “Hey Bec.” Brody smiled at the older woman, giving her a wave. “How have you been?” Rebecca hummed as she opened a filing cabinet and searched through the files. “Well with classes and tests, along with this ten hour night shift I’ve been doing, I’m exhausted.” Brody told her with a yawn. “Well just one more hour. I can’t wait for my six o’ clock break.” Rebecca hummed as she grabbed a few files.

“You know, tonight’s been pretty clear, especially for a holiday.” Rebecca said as she closed the filing cabinet and stood up. “Yeah, but we still had our fair share of people come in.” Brody hummed as she grabbed her clipboard. “A man in room six was brought in with bacterial pneumonia, he’s being watched over right now. A man came in around 12:30 complaining about chest pains. But I think he just had a nasty case of heartburn.” Brody explained to Becca. “Let me guess, the dumbass sat around eating hot dogs and drinking beer all night?” Rebecca laughed quietly. “Yep.” Brody laughed along with here.

Suddenly, Brody remembered something else and her smile only widened. “Come with me Bec, I got a real treat for you.” She called with a grin as she walked down the hall. “Where are we going?” Rebecca asked as she followed Brody into room one. A young man was lying quietly in his bed, sound asleep. “Read his chart.” Brody pointed to the clipboard hanging on the wall, a quiet snicker in her voice. Rebecca grabbed the clipboard and read it quietly.

“Ok let’s see.” Rebecca hummed as she flipped through the pages. “Patient is a 16 year old male. He is being treated for third degree burns on his scrotum and rectum.” Rebecca’s hushed voice went higher in pitch as she read the words quietly on the page. She looked up at Brody in shock. “What the hell is this?!” She whispered to her in surprise. Brody was trying her hardest not to bust out laughing and wake the patient up. “Do I even want to know?” Rebecca asked her quietly.

“The patient was inebriated at a Fourth of July party and to use his words correctly, he lit a rocket out of his asshole.” Brody wheezed quietly “No!” Rebecca gasped quietly in surprise. Brody continued to laugh quietly as she explained the story. “His ass hairs caught on fire and he jumped into a pool.” At this point Rebecca started to laugh quietly herself. “When I was cleaning the wound, it smelled like that time you burned your hair.” Brody snickered. “Eww fuck you.” Rebecca told her jokingly.

“The first thing he asked me after I was done treating the wound was how long he had until he could jerk off.” Brody chuckled. “What did you say?” Rebecca asked her, her eyes wide. “Six to eight weeks.” Brody snorted. Rebecca looked at her in shock before laughing hysterically. Brody hushed her while laughing herself. “You are cruel.” Rebecca sighed as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Yeah, but at least I saved his mom a few trips to the washer for cleaning his sheets.” Brody snickered quietly.

Suddenly their fun was interrupted by a loud noise. Brody looked over and saw the heart monitor had flatlined. “Oh these old machines. Probably got unplugged or something.” Rebecca huffed before walking over to the machine. Brody sighed and walked over to the bed, looking down at the patient. “Hi John, this is nurse Brody and nurse Rebecca. How are you feeling?” Brody asked him nonchalantly. But she heard no response from the boy. “John?” Brody repeated, looking down at him. The boy’s body was pale and unmoving. “John, can you hear me?” Brody reaches down and started shaking the boy. “John!” She called out.

Rebecca looked over when she heard Brody call out. “What’s going on?” She asked, rushing to the bedside. “He’s unresponsive. I think he’s gone into cardiac arrest.” Brody explained before starting to do compressions on the boy’s chest. Rebecca rushed to the door of the room and pulled it open. “Can we get some help here please?!” She called down the hall. Soon doctors and nurses were flooding the room. They all surrounded the bed as they tried to resuscitate the boy.

“Brody, what is going on?” Brody’s supervisor, Dr. Chan, asked her as she moved away from the bed. “I don’t know. This boy was emitted for third degree burns and he suddenly went into cardiac arrest.” Brody explained as best as she could. She looked over as the doctors started up the defibrillator and started to shock the boys chest. He was unresponsive. “You wanna tell me why a boy with minor third degree burns has suddenly gone under cardiac arrest?” Dr. Chan questioned her. “I-I don’t know sir.” Brody stammered.

Seconds later, another doctor came bursting into the room, a worried expression on his face. “Dr. Chan, we have a situation!” The doctor called to him. “What is it?” Dr. Chan asked him. “Four other patients are going under cardiac arrest. None of them are responsive.” The doctor explained. “Fuck.” Dr. Chan cursed. Brody was in disbelief. Suddenly she had a small inclination as to what could be happening. “Dr. Chan, we have to evacuate the staff.” Brody told him. Dr. Chan turned to look at her. “Are you crazy? We have to help these patients!” He told her a bit angrily.

Brody didn’t back down from him. “Sir, all of our patients are dying and there’s nothing we can do to save them! I think there might be a gas leak in the building. We can’t risk our staff for six dying patients!” Brody told him. Dr. Chan merely shook his head. “Just do as you’re told, Brody.” He told her, turning back to the bed. Brody huffed angrily before grabbing her work back and rushing out of the room. She heard Dr. Chan calling to her, but she didn’t listen. She rushed to the intercom at the front desk and spoke into it. “All staff evacuate the building immediately! This is not a drill! Leave your stations and exit the building immediately! I repeat! This is not a drill!”

6:25 a.m. Marlon was dead. Aasim stood motionless as he listened to the nurse tell him what happened in the previous hours. At one point, she offered Aasim a cigarette. He wasn’t anywhere near a smoker but, Aasim took one just to be courteous. “Thanks.” Aasim coughed as he took a puff of the cigarette. “Do you know what time you found your friend? Was it after four a.m.?” The nurse asked him. Aasim nodded before putting out the cigarette. “I got to his house around 5:30.” Aasim told her. The nurse nodded before walking back to the group of doctors and nurses. She talked to one of them. The man looked angry and he snapped at her, but she only snapped back at him. Aasim couldn’t hear what they were saying. Eventually she came back with a duffle bag over her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name.” The nurse said as she walked back to him. “Aasim. My name is Aasim.” Aasim told her as she walked up to him. “Brody.” She hummed. “Look, can you do me a favor? The six o’clock bus I catch every morning never came and I need to go somewhere. Can you drive me? I have some money, I can pay you.” Brody asked before she rooted around in her pocket for money. “No, no. It’s okay, I can drive you.” Aasim told her. “You don’t have to pay me.” Brody nodded and started to walk to his car. “What about my friend?” Aasim called to Brody before she got in his car. “Just leave him where he is.” She told him. “On the ground?” Aasim protested as he walked up to his car. “It’s either that or bringing him in the car with us.” Brody sighed.

Aasim knew for a fact that he didn’t want to haul a dead body in his car. So he sighed quietly before climbing into the driver’s side of his car and starting up the car. He looked over as Brody got in the passenger seat. After she closed her door, she threw her duffle bag into the back seat. Aasim looked back at the group of doctors and nurses huddled together on the steps of the hospital. “Are you sure your colleagues don’t need help?” He asked as he started to drive out of the parking lot. “They’re not my colleagues. I don’t work here anymore.” Brody mumbled as they sped off down the road.

For a while into the ride, the two sat in silence. Aasim could feel the tangible tenseness in the air between them. He decided to break the silence. “Mind if I turn on the radio?” He asked her. “Go ahead.” Brody mumbled, looking out the window as they drove. Aasim nodded quietly before reaching out and turning on the car radio. But instead of music, his ears were just met with static. “What the fuck?” He whispered softly as he tried to tune the radio to another station. Just more static. “Well that’s weird.” He mumbled before switching off the radio. Suddenly he heard sniffling and whimpering. He looked over to see Brody crying softly to herself. Brody could feel Aasim’s gaze on her so she quickly wiped away her tears.

“I’m sorry.” She hiccuped as she furiously wiped her eyes. “No it’s okay. It’s probably a good thing to cry. Can’t keep your emotions all bottled up.” Aasim told her in a soft tone. Brody nodded and sighed softly. “Do you mind if I scream?” She suddenly asked out of the blue. “What?” Aasim said, looking over at her. “Can I scream?” She repeated her question. Aasim nodded slowly in response. He heard Brody roll down her window and she stuck her head out. Aasim heard her let out a loud shrill scream. She screamed long and hard before pulling herself back into the car and rolling up the window. “That felt really fucking good.” She huffed, reaching up and fixing her hair.

“Heh, maybe I should give it a try.” Aasim chuckled lightly. “It would help.” Brody sighed. “I’m sorry about your friend.” She mumbled, looking over at him. “It’s alright. We weren’t really close. He was more like a friend of a friend.” Aasim told her. Brody nodded and looked ahead of them. “If there’s any consolation, a lot of bad things happen during the holidays. There’s an increase in suicides, DUIs, overdoses, and many other things.” She hummed. “Jesus. Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Aasim looked over at her. “Yes. Misery enjoys company. You’re not the only one having a shitty Fourth of July.” She told him, meeting his gaze. “Well, I was actually on my way to meet up with my ex boyfriend. So my night wasn’t gonna be easy from the start.” Aasim sighed softly. “Yikes. That sounds worse than any drive to the ER.” Brody chuckled lightly.

“Have you thought about dating a nurse before?” Brody asked him nonchalantly. “No I haven’t.” Aasim hummed in response. “You should. Especially the ones that work in the ER. They make the best partners.” Brody told him. “How so?” Aasim inquires her. “They see the most shit. For example, yesterday we had a nine year old girl who had her throat ripped out by a stray dog. The day before that a man came in with cerebral hemorrhaging because his son accidentally hit him in the head with a baseball bat. And the day before that, I don’t remember. We go through the most shit.” Brody explained to him.

Aasim listened intently to her spiel. “And what about them makes them good partners?” He asked the girl. “Gives them perspective. They know that one day they’re gonna be on the hospital bed dying slowly. So they try to make the most out of life.” Brody told him. “Well there are other people who deal with death. Cops and soldiers. Do they make good partners too?” Aasim questioned her. “That’s different. They do the killing. We do the fixing.” Brody finished with a quiet sigh.

A little bit later into the drive, Brody spoke out of the blue. “Stop the car.” She said quietly. “What?” Aasim looked over at her in confusion. “Stop the car.” Brody repeated herself. Aasim understood and started to pull over onto the side of the road. “No. Don’t pull over. Just stop.” Brody told him as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “In the middle of the road?” Aasim questioned her. “Yes, right fucking here.” She cursed before getting out of the car. Aasim watched as Brody walked around the car, looking at the stores and buildings around the road.

Aasim got out of his car and walked out into the road with her. Brody looked back at him, her eyes wide with what looked like fear. “Where the fuck is everyone!?” She cursed. “I-I don’t..” Aasim stammered as he tried to answer her. “Where are the joggers?! The dog walkers?! The people on their way to work?! Where did they all go!?” Brody screamed. Aasim looked around them. They were on the busiest street in town. But now it just felt like a ghost town.

Aasim looked over when Brody pulled open the back seat door of his car and grabbed the duffle bag she threw in the back. He watched her unzip it and pull out a small pistol. Brody raised the pistol into the air and fired. “What the fuck?!” Aasim yelped as the sound caught him off guard. Normally that sound would cause many people to come running to find out what happened. But no one came. Brody threw the pistol back into the car and started digging through her duffle bag again.

“Get undressed!” Brody called over to him. “What?” Aasim looked over at her in surprise. “Get undressed! We’re standing in the middle of a fucking biohazard zone!” Brody yelled at him. She grabbed something out of the duffle bag and threw it at him. Aasim caught it in his hands and recognized it as a hazmat suit. Looking up, he saw that Brody was already stripping down to her bra and underwear. Aasim figured he’d do the same.

After they both had changed into the suits, they started to do a sweep of the many houses that lined the street. Aasim walked up the stoop of one house and knocked on the door. “Hello? Hello?” He called as he knocked on the door. When there was no answer he tried the door knob. It was unlocked. Pushing open the door, he stepped into the quiet house. A tangible heaviness fell onto Aasim as he walked further into the house.

“Is anyone here?” Aasim muttered quietly as he looked around the house. He came upon the bedrooms. His heart stopped as he looked into each one. All the people who lived in this house were lying in their beds. Unmoving with no signs of life. “Oh my god.” Aasim whispered before leaving the house quickly. He couldn’t bare to look at the bodies much longer.

After looking through a few more houses, he met up with Brody back in the middle of the street. “Well, what did you find? Any survivors?” Brody asked him when he walked up to her. Aasim shook his head. “Not one.” He whispered. “Were all the victims lying in their beds?” Brody asked him, a small shake in her voice. “Most of them. Some were lying on the couch and one was even on the floor.” Aasim told her, she nodded in response.

“What do you think caused this?” Brody whispered. “Maybe it was a chemical attack. Those kill people instantly.” Aasim told her. “Not likely. There would have been burns on the bodies and signs of a struggle.” She explained. “Radiation?” Aasim asked her. “A small dose wouldn’t kill you instantly. Larger doses would make you have boils on the body, liquids leaking from orifices, and much more. These bodies are all pristine.” Brody whispered.

After a few seconds of silence, Brody sighed quietly. “I think it’s safe to take off these suits. If whatever’s caused this is an airborne agent then we’re fucked anyway.” She sighed before zipping off the suit and getting dressed again. Aasim soon did the same. “So how do we know if we’re infected?” Aasim asked as he pulled on his shirt. “That’s the million dollar question.” Brody mumbled quietly.

Brody and Aasim eventually got back into his car and drove off. They had plans to head to Los Angeles to see if anyone was alive there. As they drove, Aasim pulled out his phone and dialed Mitch’s number. He held it up to his ear as it started to ring. But after six rings, it went to voicemail. Aasim sighed as he heard the familiar “Hey, this is Mitch, leave a message.” After the sound of the beep, Aasim spoke quietly into the phone.

“Hey Mitch, it’s me. I’m heading down to Los Angeles with a friend to see if anyone’s still alive. If you get this message, please call me back as soon as you can. I’m really worried about you. Please let me know that you’re safe. I love you…” Aasim whispered those last few words into the phone before hanging up and placing his phone in a cup holder.

“Hey, do you mind if I get some sleep? I haven’t slept in like thirty hours and I get pretty irritable when tired.” Brody asked him quietly, looking over at him. “Yeah, of course, go ahead.” Aasim hummed softly. He looked over and saw Brody pull out a bottle of pills out of her pocket. He watched her open it and pour a few tablets into her hand. He recognized those pills.

“Is that Ziaphran?” He asked her as she pulled a bottle of water out of her duffle bag. “Yeah, you take them?” She asked him as she opened the water. “I used to. I’ve taken many prescription sleeping pills for years. I have R.E.M sleeping disorder.” Aasim explained to her. “Yikes. That must suck.” She hummed before taking the pills with a mouthful of water. After she swallowed the pills, she sighed and settled into her seat. “Just gonna relax and let these elephant tranquilizers do their work.” She mumbled quietly.

“Elephants…Elephants…. Beware the elephant…”

Suddenly, Aasim felt himself get thrown into a memory from a long time ago. A memory he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Aasim was maybe five around the time. He was sitting on the living room floor with his mother who was holding up flash cards. “Alright, Sim. A is for?” His mother asked as she held up a flash card with a bright red letter A on it.

“Apple.” Aasim said with a small grin on his face. “Good job! Alright what about B?” His mother praised him. “Book.” Aasim responded. “Yes! Ok, how about C?” Aasim watched as his mother changed the cards again. “Cat.” Aasim smiled at his mother. “Yes, and what does the cat say?” His mother smiled back at him. “Meow meow.” Aasim imitated a cat. His mother laughed softly before changing the cards again. “And D?” She asked him. “Dog!” Aasim said enthusiastically. “Yes!” His mother cheered.

Aasim watched as the cards changed again. His mother held up a card with a large yellow E on it. “And what does E stand for?” His mother asked with a smile on her face. Suddenly, Aasim couldn’t speak. He was gripped by an uncontrollable terror. “Aasim? Say it.” His mother said, her smile falling. Aasim felt his heart rate quicken and his eyes start to go wide. His breath got caught in his throat and he felt himself start to breath heavily. “Aasim, say it!” His mother shouted, her once happy expression turned to that of anger.

Aasim started to hyperventilate. His heart was racing faster and faster than it ever has before. He was sure that if it beat any faster it would burst. “Say it Aasim!” His mother screamed. “E stands for Elephant!” On the word “elephant” Aasim’s mother’s skin suddenly melted away and she was turned into a large pink flying elephant. “Elephants Aasim! Elephants!” The creature yelled as it circled around Aasim. Aasim let our terrified screams as he curled up in a ball. Tears streamed down his face as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Suddenly, Aasim felt gentle hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him. “Hey, hey it’s okay, Aasim. It’s alright.” A soothing voice whispered in his ear. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw the face of his mother crouching beside his bed. Aasim started to sob quietly and threw himself into his mother’s arms, spluttering quietly about the elephant in his dream. His mother whispered comforting words in his ears as he held him close in her arms.

She looked over when the door to her son’s room opened. Aasim’s father was standing in the doorway, the hallway light shining into the dark room. “What is it this time, Tracy?” His father asked as he walked into the room. “Elephants, John. It’s from that damn picture book you read to him.” Tracy snapped at him. John frowned at her tone. “Well I’m sorry, is it so wrong that I want my son to know how to read?” John snapped back at her. “You can’t just read him anything you want!” Tracy hissed at him.

Tracy stood up from the bedside and walked out into the hallway with her husband. “John, you have to think before you show our son something. You know how certain things affect him!” She whispered to him. “I’m sorry okay? I’ve already had to throw away every book in the house, every picture, hell even my grandmother’s painting of a horse! But still, we haven’t gotten a night of sleep since the day he was born!” John’s voice started to raise in volume as he got more angry.

“John..” Tracy said quietly. “Do you know what this as done to us?! How this affected our home?! Our marriage?! Our jobs?!” John shouted at her. “Remember when we used to have lives?!” He screamed. “Well if you’re unhappy, then just leave!” Tracy shouted back at him. John fell quiet and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “No, I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do. I was just trying to do what was best for our son.” John said softly. Tracy sighed before walking back into their son’s bedroom.

She walked back over to the bed where Aasim was still sat, shaking as he pulled his knees to his chest. “Hey, it’s okay Aasim. We’re here.” Tracy whispered as she pulled him close. “We’ll always be her bud. We aren’t going anywhere.” John said softly as he sat next to his wife. “I’m sorry, mama.” Aasim mumbled quietly, tears in his eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t sleep.” He sobbed before burying his face in his mother’s chest.

“Aasim? Aasim? Aasim!” Aasim was suddenly snapped back to reality when he heard Brody’s call. Aasim saw that he was about to drive off the road and quick swerved back to the middle of the road. “What the hell was that?” Brody asked him as she looked at him. “You have to throw up the pills.” Aasim muttered quietly. “What?” Brody asked. Suddenly Aasim stopped the car and got out of the car. “Aasim, what are you- Hey!” Brody exclaimed when Aasim suddenly pulled her out of her seat. “You have to throw up the pills! Now!” Aasim yelled, urgency in his voice. Brody could tell by his urgency that this was important.

Leaning over the grass on the side of the road, she tried to make herself gag. When nothing worked, she stuck two fingers down her throat, causing herself to gag and throw up the small blue tablets. She looked at the pills on the grass with wide eyes. “I-I have to call the hospital.” She murmured before pulling out her phone and dialing the number of her supervisor. A few seconds later, the line was picked up on the other end.

“Dr. Chan?” Brody asked quietly into the phone. “Brody? What is it?” Dr. Chan’s voice spoke back. “I need to talk to Rebecca, right now.” Brody told him urgently. “She’s on break.” Dr. Chan told her. “I know, but please just let me talk to her.” Brody pleaded with him. She heard Dr. Chan sigh quietly. “Alright.” He sighed quietly. Brody heard him walk into a room shortly after. “Bec, Brody’s on the phone. She wants to talk to you.” There were a few seconds of silence that followed after that. “Rebecca?” Dr. Chan said with a bit of worry in his voice. “Dr. Chan..” Brody whispered, her hand shaking as she gripped her phone tightly in her hand.

“Can we get some help in here?!” Dr. Chan called. “I’m sorry Brody, I have to go.” Dr. Chan spoke into the phone before hanging up. Brody was in disbelief. “Brody? Are you alright?” Aasim asked softly. “She was taking a nap.” Brody mumbled quietly. Suddenly her head snapped up in fear. “That’s it. That’s what’s killing everyone.” She whispered fearfully and looked back at Aasim with wide eyes. “We have to stay awake…”

#twdg #the walking dead game #twdg s4 #twdg season 4 #twdg aasim #twdg brody #twdg rebecca #the edge of sleep #chapter 2

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quinzelade · 5 years

Text

Making One’s Bones (chpt 14)

Chapter List

Porter Gage is in a pickle. Nuka-World needed a new boss and some woman just killed her way to the top. But a pre-war Mafia boss on the theme park's throne? Well...at least she'll have experience.

Hello, everyone! Welcome to my newest fanfic! While this is technically a ‘sequel’ of By No Constraint, you don’t need to read BNC to read this. It can be read as standalone.

Famous Last Words

“Hey, asshole! You're listening to Raider Radio. Don't like the name? I don't give a shit!”

Gage saw Bossanova visibly wince as RedEye’s voice crackled out over a radio on a nearby table. She stopped dead and stared at it, as if trying to will it to explode.

They hadn’t spoken a word to each other all the way down the stairs—Gage was furious with her for picking up the stray, and she was mad at him for his—justified—treatment of the kid. But his annoyance quickly made way for curiosity as Bossanova continued to stand and glare as if the radio had personally offended her. “What’s up with you?”

Bossanova glanced towards Gage, anger etched in every line of her ravaged face. She jerked her thumb towards the battered old radio. “I hate that man.”

“What, RedEye?” Gage frowned. “He’s a dumbass, yeah, but you’ve never met him.”

“I don’t have to meet someone to hate them for narrating my entire trip through the Gauntlet.”

“Oh.” Gage started to snicker. “Oh.”

“It’s not funny!”

“Well, I mean, it really is.”

The idea was Colter’s originally. RedEye, who already gifted Nuka World with his terrible Raider Radio show, had been drafted in to give commentary to all those stupid enough to fall into the Gauntlet’s trap. Fight their way through or die. And with RedEye making quips along the way, the whole thing had been genuinely entertaining for a while. Up until the point where Gage realised Colter was never going to move on and actually take the rest of Nuka World.

Still. The radio show wasn’t as bad as it could be.

“...got some news for you all,” RedEye went on, his voice rising in pitch as it always did when he was excited. “Word’s getting around that the Overboss has been seen meeting up with the head honchos for each of the gangs. No one's told me shit yet, but doesn't take a genius to figure out—”

“That was weeks ago,” sneered Bossanova. “He’s not exactly quick on the uptake, is he?”

“—we’re taking the park! The whole damn thing—”

“I would love nothing better than to kill him,” she said, toying with the hilt of her sword. “Introduce me some time, won’t you?”

“You just wait—this new overboss is the real deal, man. Getting shit done!”

Gage scowled. “Why bother? You’ll just pussy out at the last second or regret it afterwards.”

She frowned at him, and he knew he’d gone too far. But he wasn’t going to apologise. She’d let the stupid kid take his damn belt.

“I kill people who deserve it,” Bossanova said, just loud enough to be heard over RedEye’s babbling. “And when they deserve it, I enjoy it. It’s a skill; art, almost. And considering where we are, there are plenty of people who deserve it. You’ll get to see me in action soon enough, I’m sure.”

She turned on her heel and stalked off towards the front door, but Gage wasn’t letting this go without a fight. “So why the kid, huh? What benefit is she for us?” He lowered his voice as he followed her into the open. Never knew who was listening.

Bossanova was finally heeding his warnings about the other raiders, because she lowered her voice too. “She could keep things in order while we’re away. Like a servant.”

“She’s a slave, not a servant.”

“What’s the difference?”

“One knows its place, the other doesn’t.” Gage shook his head as they walked around the swan pond. “She’s useless, and if you keep her, the other raiders will think you’ve gone soft.”

“The girl could be an asset,” Bossanova insisted. “I’ve met her before. She followed me all through Nuka Town without me spotting her until the very end. And if we keep her loyal, she can squeeze into places we can’t, find information on people. No one pays attention to a slave. And the other slaves will think she’s on their side.”

Gage studied Bossanova for a moment. Her face was defiant, set, and absolutely full of shit. “Quit trying to kid yourself. You’re doing this because of Oswald.” Bossanova blanched and he knew he had her. “You feel bad for killing him, so you’re trying to make up for it by looking after the girl. It ain’t gonna work. You’ll never be able to trust her. She’s already proven that by stealing my belt, even if you don’t believe it.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure she’s taken it,” said Bossanova casually.

“What?” He didn’t trouble to lower his voice, and a group of raiders looked around at him. “What?” he hissed again, sticking his face close to hers. “You figured she had it, and you didn’t try to get it back?”

“I didn’t want an argument,” she replied with a shrug. “And besides, that old thing was looking a bit tired. Treat yourself every once in a while.”

“But the grenades—”

“I think Sarah’s sensible enough not to use them.”

The Fizztop Grille exploded.

Glass rained down on them as fire roared from the windows, furniture and body parts scattered into the open air before landing in the pond with a series of loud splashes. Gage slowly turned to look at Bossanova. She sheepishly met his eye as a crowd of raiders began to gather around the burning tower.

After a few seconds of painful silence, Bossanova said loudly, “Someone must have finally set off the traps I installed. I was wondering how long that would take.”

Gage blinked at her, thrown for a second, but then understood when the other raiders began to mutter amongst themselves about the ‘traps.’ Bossanova was covering her ass and making sure no one got any bright ideas about setting up bombs in the future.

“Let’s go see which idiot raider got too big for their boots,” Bossanova went on in the same loud voice. She strode back towards the main door, kicked it open, and disappeared inside. Gage jogged after her, hoping the smoke wouldn’t be too bad.

“Sensible my ass,” Gage snarled as they ran up the stairs together. “I knew she had my belt.” Secretly, he thought the grenades might be worth it just to get rid of the girl. But now was not the time. For all he knew, the building was about to come down and that would be an absolute shitshow.

The top floor lobby was a wreck. Black soot coated the walls, and the double doors leading to the outer patio had been blasted off their hinges. Smoke was billowing through, making Gage’s eye sting, but most of the damage seemed to have been contained to the outside. He picked his way through the mess, watching as Bossanova pulled a large red canister with a nozzle attached off the wall, turned to the nearest fire, and a jet of white-grey vapour engulfed the flames.

“The smoke’s bad enough without you spraying shit everywhere!” Gage yelled, coughing. He backed away.

“It’s a fire extinguisher!”

“What?”

“A fire—extinguisher!” Bossanova bellowed. She gestured to the wall behind him. “Get the other one and help me before this gets out of control!”

Gage blinked. The fire extinguisher—or whatever it was called—did seem to be doing the trick. He nodded and sprinted over to the other canister, wrenched it free, and fiddled around with the nozzle. “How do you—?” His question was cut off by a jet of white gas hitting him in the face. From across the room he heard Bossanova laughing, and after a second he managed to get control of the spray and direct it at the fire instead.

The fire flickered and disappeared, revealing a small figure pinned beneath the rubble. “Boss, there’s the girl.”

Bossanova whipped around. “Free her. I’ll carry on with the flames.”

Gage did as he was told, pushing and hauling the broken furniture, ceiling, and pieces of wall off her. Despite the chaos around them, the kid looked relatively unscathed. He spotted his belt on her immediately, and saw one of the grenades was missing. “There we go. Told you the little bitch caused this.”

Bossanova ignored him. “Is she alive?”

He checked her pulse and found it strong and steady. “Yeah.”

“Good. Move her to the stairwell.”

Gage grabbed the girl by the arm and began to drag her carelessly across the rubble out of harm’s way.

“Properly, Gage.”

Gage grumbled and sighed, but obeyed, picking her up carefully and walking away. He was surprised by how light she was, how fragile she felt in his arms. It occurred to him he couldn’t have been much older than this when he left home.

A wonder I didn’t die.

He set her little body down in the stairwell and checked her over. Bossanova would just give him shit if he didn’t. A cut on her head suggested she’d hit it when the explosion went off, but otherwise she seemed okay. Remembering one of the quick fixes Connor taught him, Gage took out a stimpak, lifted her head forward, and injected it where the back of her skull met the neck. She shuddered, and he did another one for good measure. Bossanova was living proof he’d need twice as much medicine to get the job done.

Sarah’s eyes flickered open, and she stared up at him, wide-eyed and trembling. “Where am I?”

“Stay still, asshole,” Gage snapped. “Or you’ll make your head worse.” He got to his feet. “I’m gonna go help the boss. Move from this spot, and I’ll bring you back up here just to throw you out the window again. Got it?”

Sarah nodded.

“Stop moving your damn head!”

The girl bit her lip, blinking quickly. Gage took this to mean she understood and he stomped off back to Bossanova, picking up his extinguisher and helping finish the job. He answered Bossanova’s searching look with a grimace. “She’s fine. I've given her some stimpaks.” The boss didn’t reply, but set to work on the fire once more with a look of relief.

The flames slowly died. Within ten minutes, the Fizztop Grille merely smouldered. Bossanova wiped her sweating brow, panting, and turned to him smiling. “Good job.”

Gage frowned, but didn’t reply. They wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place had Bossanova not brought the kid back.

“Gage,” Bossanova said, peering at him. “Stop sulking.”

“I ain’t fuckin’ sulking,” Gage muttered sulkily.

“Sure you are. Is it because of the girl, or because you doused yourself with the extinguisher before you actually managed to—don’t you dare!” Bossanova shrieked as the white gas engulfed her.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Gage said blandly, his extinguisher nozzle pointed at her.

“I swear to Jesus and Mary and all that is holy, if you ever—”

Gage sprayed her again, grinning as her screams for him to stop turned into hacking coughs. Finally, the gas ran out and Bossanova emerged from the cloud holding her own extinguisher like a minigun.

“Porter Gage, you goddamn—!” She emptied her extinguisher at him, chasing him all round the Grille, and then threw the empty canister at his head for good measure. He easily ducked it, his sides aching with laughter.

It was odd, having fun without killing anyone. Gage savoured it while it lasted. Bossanova wiped tears from her eyes, grinning at him, despite herself. Then the situation—the smoking ruins of her den all around her, the implication behind it all—seemed to slide back into her thoughts, and the smile crumbled into a frown as she glanced past him. “You sure Sarah’s alright?”

“Yeah,” he said, not knowing or caring if it was true. Glancing back to the stairwell, he saw the kid was sitting up, watching them warily. There was something bothering him, and as he stared at her he realised what. “Boss...one grenade wouldn’t cause all this damage.”

Bossanova wore a grim expression. “That’s what I was worried about.” She walked across the lobby to Sarah, kicking aside rubble and dislodged furniture as she went, and crouched down. “Can you tell me what happened?” she asked, her voice gentle.

Sarah’s eyes flicked towards Gage.

“The boss is askin’ you a question,” he snapped. When she still didn’t move, he added, “Talking won’t mess up your head, idiot.”

Sarah flushed red and glared at him. Despite himself, Gage bit back a grin. Most of the other slaves wouldn’t so much as look at him. Guts was always admirable, even if it was misplaced.

“Raiders came in and planted a bomb,” Sarah said, scowling at Gage, while Bossanova’s face paled. “They were going to kill you, so I climbed up into the ceiling a dropped a grenade on them.” She smiled triumphantly. Bossanova looked horrified.

“Yeah, using my grenade belt, you little shit,” he growled.

“Don’t speak to her like that!” Bossanova cut in, shooting him a death glare.

Gage snorted. “She's just a slave.”

“She's a child!”

“Even worse.”

Sarah unbuckled the grenade belt and dropped it to the floor, kicking it towards Gage. “There,” she said, glowering at her knees. “If you won’t share.”

“It’s ain’t about sharing,” Gage retorted, wondering why he was trying to justify himself to a ten-year-old slave, “it’s my goddamn shit. I earned it. And I know how to use it properly. You just blew up half the fucking Grille.”

“No. The raiders did that. I just made it happen before you guys got back.”

Gage and Bossanova glanced at each other. The kid had a point, not that he’d ever admit it. He picked his belt up, noticing she’d gouged out a huge hole in the leather just so she could wear it. “Great. Fucking ruined.” He dropped it on the floor again and stormed off back towards the outer section. The damage was worst here, so the bodies of the raiders would be around. With any luck, it would be just one gang. If not, and the gangs were working together, they were in big trouble.

Now he was looking closely, Gage could see the body parts scattered around the mess. He picked the pieces up, dumping it all in the centre of the room, and then pawed over it, checking for tattoos and clothing to see which gang was the latest problem. He could have asked Sarah which gang members she’d seen, but he didn’t want to ask the little shit for help unless he absolutely had to.

“Body paint and stupid colours,” Gage said eventually, holding up a leg with a fluffy pink scrap of fabric clinging to it. “We’re dealing with the Pack.”

Bossanova approached, a muscle jumping in her jaw. Even in the poor light, she looked and tense. “They tried to kill me...again?”

“You’re surprised?”

Bossanova said nothing for a moment and then gave a small nod. “I thought I had everyone where I wanted them. I thought I had control.”

Gage rolled his eye. “How many fucking times did I tell you this ain’t like the Old World? How many times?” His voice was rising, sharp and full of condemnation. He knew he shouldn’t be this angry, but it was Colter all over again. Why did no one ever listen to him? “The raiders don’t trust you. You’re a ghoul and so far you’ve done fuck all to keep them in their place.” He threw the leg at her feet. “I told you. But you knew best, obviously. And I was stupid enough to believe it.”

Bossanova stared at the leg for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was low and quiet. “It seems I’ll be giving a demonstration sooner than I thought.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She ignored him, striding across the room, throwing open a surviving drawer, and pulling out a singed meat cleaver. “Get the bodies out of here. Toss them from the window for all I care. When you’re done, you come with me. We’re going to pay Mason a visit.”

The Bradberton Amphitheater screamed with the roars of the Pack. Mason lounged on his throne as Bossanova strode through the crowd, Gage at her heels. He admired her audacity, but wasn’t sure if balls of steel were going to be enough to waltz through this situation. Then Gage remembered the bomb and his temper flared. These fuckers needed to be taught a lesson.

“Get up!” Bossanova bellowed as she strode towards Mason. “Up, now!”

Mason raised an eyebrow, but didn’t move. Instead, he waved his hand towards one of his Pack—a tall boulder of a man with long dark hair to waist—and the raider stepped in front of Bossanova, baring his teeth.

“The Alpha don’t want to see—” he began, but Bossanova pulled out her sword without breaking her stride and drove the hilt into the man’s stomach, catching him by surprise. As he doubled over, she slammed her elbow into his temple, sending him toppling to the ground with a thud.

There was immediate uproar. Mason rose to his feet practically frothing at the mouth.

“Good Alpha,” Bossanova shouted, making her way up the stairs and kicking his throne backwards off the podium. “I like obedience.”

Gage had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing, settling for a grin instead. He wasn’t sure where her attitude had come from, but he liked it. Mason, on the other hand didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He was easily two heads taller than the boss, but it was obvious she didn’t fear him. He moved down the steps slightly as she strode towards him, blade in hand, forcing him to look up at her.

“Boss,” Gage said sharply, noticing the anger rippling through the crowd. Weapons were being drawn, guns being readied. It didn’t matter how badass she was, even Bossanova couldn’t dodge lead.

“I defeated Colter with a sword,” Bossanova called out, turning to face her audience with her arms held wide. “I took him down in his power armour with this.” She held her blade high into the air and then gave a mocking bow. “What makes any of you think you could do better?”

No one answered.

Like Gage, Mason knew this wasn’t strictly true. The water, not her fighting prowess, had given Bossanova the edge over Colter. But the others didn’t know that, and most of them were too stupid to explain it to. Mason looked furious. Gage did his best to keep his face straight.

“Now,” Bossanova said, snapping her head back in Mason’s direction, “some of your little beasts thought they’d try and rig an explosive in the Fizztop Grille. They’re dead of course, but there needs to be payment for this transgression.”

“Payment?” snorted Mason. “What payment? None of us have shit and you know it. We’ve been stuck here for over a year, and judging by what you’ve been doin’, boss, we’re gonna be stuck here a little longer.”

Gage thought Mason had a fair point, but trying to explain the two areas they’d been to were still infested with gatorclaws and ghouls would probably be pointless. The gangs wouldn’t care that things weren’t ready—they only wanted results.

“Not money.” Bossanova paused, staring out over the crowd. She pulled back a layer of clothing to reveal the meat cleaver in her belt and met Mason’s eye. “Your people tried to kill Gage and I. Two lives, two fingers. They’re your pets, so you’re responsible. Pick someone for the debt, or I’ll just pick you.”

Gage frowned, feeling a little disappointed. Two fingers was tame considering they’d nearly blown her up. But she’d said he’d get to see her in action at some point and this was his chance. He decided to keep his mouth shut and see how it all played out.

Mason sneered at her and waved his arm around the amphitheater. “There’s a room full of us, bitch.” His words were met with a cheer, the Pack on the stands and the floor banging their chest plates and stamping their feet, throwing back their heads and howling to the sky.

Bossanova waited until they quieted down and smiled pleasantly. “Yes, but I only need two fingers.” She tilted her head and folded her arms. “Hurry up and make your choice, whelp.”

Mason flinched, the colour rising in his face. Gage thought she was pushing it, but couldn’t deny he was enjoying watching the prick be challenged in front of his own people. Mason gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers, his face going from red to purple as his eyes flicked between Bossanova and her sword.

“Haze!” Mason bellowed, turning to the stands suddenly. “This was your fucking idea! Get over here!”

A scuffle broke out in the crowd, followed by muffled screams as a lone figure was thrown into the clearing. He was a big man with purple hair and wearing a bright blue vest. He tried to back away, but met a wall of bodies pushing him towards Bossanova.

“Excellent.” Bossanova removed the cleaver from her belt and ran her finger down the blade lovingly as she stared at her prey. “Put your hand on the step in front of me. Now.”

The raider hesitated, staring at Bossanova’s placid face. She looked at Gage and gave a small nod.

Elation filled Gage’s chest as he strode over and snarled, “You heard what the boss said. Now!” He kicked the raider’s legs out from under him. Haze yelled in surprise, but Gage was too quick, taking his hand and forcing it onto the step at Bossanova’s feet.

“Choose your least favourite fingers.” Bossanova crouched down and stared into the man’s face, gently touching his cheek with the cleaver. “If you keep struggling, I’ll take your whole hand. I’m not picky.”

Her victim trembled, his eyes wide with a fear that made Gage’s heart sing. Finally Haze submitted, setting two of his fingers on the stone step and looking away. Bossanova trailed the rusted blade lovingly over the man’s knuckles, pressing in slightly so that he whimpered and tensed. The amphitheater was deathly silent.

Bossanova raised the cleaver in a sudden, violent movement and brought it down with a sickening clang. The raider’s scream was drowned out by the delighted yells of the Pack, a few howls piercing the din.

“Gage,” Bossanova yelled over the uproar as she picked the fingers up off the floor, “hold his mouth.”

Gage grinned, seizing the shrieking, writhing raider’s jaw and forcing it open. Haze hit out at Gage, blood flicking everywhere, but a second later his cries were muffled as Bossanova forced the fingers down his throat. He gagged and Gage let go, his teeth slamming shut with an audible snap.

Bossanova kicked Haze carelessly down the stairs and the crowd howled and whistled with appreciation, while Haze clawed at his throat, his face slowly turning as purple as his hair. She turned to Mason. “Save him if you want. You have my permission.”

Mason gazed down at the dying man, his expression one of intrigue and wonder, before looking back at Bossanova with renewed respect. “Nah. Fucker was no good anyway.”

She nodded and drew close. “If either myself or Gage are threatened again, you’ll be the next to kneel. And I’ll make sure something more valuable than fingers ends up down your throat.”

Mason didn’t seem to have an answer to this. Bossanova smiled, turned on her heel, and stepped smartly over the choking raider on the floor, tossing the cleaver carelessly away. Neither she nor Gage gave him a backward glance as they left the lair of the Pack.

#fallout 4 #fallout #nuka world #porter gage #gage #mob #Making One's Bones

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holyhollland · 6 years

Text

learning to love again

tom holland x reader

A/N: this is for @upsidedownparker‘s song challenge! I wrote to the song learning to love again by mat kearney. I apologize in advance...

Word count: 1.7k

'Cause that was the real you running through the fields of gold wide open Standing in places no picture contains That was the real you, windows down, we could smell the mint fields crying Singing with the radio to a song we can’t name

The warm breeze brushed your cheeks as the Jeep sped around the curve on the road, giving you a small peak at the ocean below. The sky empty, letting the sun hit your shoulders and face. You closed your eyes, humming along to the song playing on the radio.

Tom, sitting in the driver’s seat, looked over at you, unable to mask the smile growing on his face. You sat there throwing your head back and forth, dancing and singing to the song. Out of the corner of his eye, Tom watched you, taking in your features. The way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you smile. How your hair shined with the sun beaming down. The way his heart fluttered when he heard you laugh.

You turned towards the boy finding him smiling and shaking his head as he watched the road. You grab his hand, biting your bottom lip trying to hide the big grin forming.

You thought your whole life would consist of small moments like this.

One’s where you sat on the beach, alone but together. Just sitting there. Tom watching you as you watched the sunset. Making small comments about how in awe he was of you, causing you to blush and lean closer to him.

You thought he was the one, but all that ended.

“Get out,” you whispered, taking deep, shallow breaths. Your eyes snapped shut, clenching your jaw.

Tom took a step towards you. “Y/n, please. Don’t-”

“I said get out,” you growled as you stood up, clenched fists by your side.

“No we need to talk about this,” Tom moved over to your side trying to wrap his arms around you. You pushed him off, looking at him with tears in your eyes. “A month ago there was something to talk about. You promised you’d stop. But you didn’t. Now there is nothing to talk about. I asked you to get out of my apartment, so get the hell out.”

Tom just stood there with his mouth hanging open as if he was going to protest or fightback. God you wanted to punch that dumbass look off his face. The two of you stood there for what felt like hours. Tears threatening to fall down your face as you stared at him with pure hatred.

“Get out,” your whole body shook, anger flaring up inside you. The boy replied with a small “N-no,” setting his jaw. You ran over to Tom pushing him towards the door screaming “Get out” over and over. Tears streaming down your face, you kept yelling at the boy between sobs, your voice breaking with each step you took. One last push and he was out of your apartment and out of your life.

You calmed down, looking up at him. He could see the hurt in your eyes, making him want to wrap you up in a big hug and never let you go. His heart broke each second he stood there watching you.

“I will never be your ‘sometimes,” you whispered slamming the door shut. Finally with him gone, you broke down, falling to the floor. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you let it all out. All the pain you had gone through the past couple of months, trying to stay cheerful and strong. Putting on a brave face for everyone around you. You could finally let it all out.

Tom slammed his fists into the wall behind him, tears silently falling down his face. He backed up to the door to your apartment, leaning his head back with his eyes closed, tears still slipping down his face. Part of him was hoping you’d open the door and he could hold you and never let go. But the other half wanted the door to remain shut, like a punishment for the torture he had put you through the past couple of months.

Two hearts, broken, sitting on either side of the door. Nothing able to fix them. Thinking ‘bout the words you’d say to a phone that never calls Feel the weight of your father’s ring and all those dreams, and all those dreams singing Hey brother, we’re all learning to love again

Tom laid on the bed, hands under his chin as he watched the phone sitting on the bedside table. His phone lit up from an incoming call causing him to jump and quickly answer it. “H-hello?”, his eyes lit up as he stuttered into the phone.

“Oh, w-wrong number,” he mumbled, throwing the phone back down on the bed. He let out an exasperated sigh as he pushed his head face down into the pillows.

Tom’s best friend, Harrison, walked into Tom’s room leaning against the door frame as he fixed the cuffs of his sleeves. “She’s never going to call, you know that right?” the blonde boy asked.

Tom mumbled something incoherent into the pillow. “What was that, you prissy baby?”, Harrison asked, a big grin spreading across his face. Tom’s head shot up, turning to glare at the other boy. “She will call. I know it. She still loves me,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Hate to break it to you, but no she won’t,” Harrison, seeing his friend about to protest, raised his finger, quickly yelling, “And don’t you dare try telling me I’m wrong.” He walked over to the bed and sat down next to Tom, patting him on the back.

“I think it’s time to talk about this whole...situation. Y/n isn’t going to call you. The two of you were in love but you broke that. You broke her heart. She showed you her real side, became vulnerable just for you. Nothing hurts more than realizing you meant everything to her and she meant nothing to you,” Harrison spoke softly, glancing down at Tom every now and then. There was a long and heavy silence that filled the room.

“How do you know that?” Tom whispered, staring intently at his phone again. He was trying to distract himself from remembering the fight between the two of you that occurred less than two weeks ago. He didn’t want to remember sitting outside your apartment door feeling useless and guilt. The sound of your sobs forever embedded into his head along with regret and shame.

“She told me how she felt. She called me,” Harrison stood up, looking at his watch. “I have to-”

“She called you. Why the hell did she call you?” Tom felt anger flare up in his stomach. Y/n was his girlfriend, or now ex-girlfriend. But still, what the hell was she doing calling his best friend?

“I don’t know, but clearly it’s time for you to move on,” Harrison rolled his eyes, “Come on get up, you’re coming with me and your going to drink until you forget all about Y/n.” He walked over to Tom’s closet picking out a blazer and white colored polo, throwing it onto the bed. “Here put this on. We’re leaving in ten minutes,” he shouted walking out the door.

Four drinks later, Tom stood at a table with some of his friends, Y/n far from being on his mind. That is until you walked into the bar. The boy looked towards the door, almost choking when he saw you walk in, arm hooked around some tall blonde man’s arm. Tom felt completely sober in that moment. His heart sinking as he watched the couple go up to the bar and order drinks.

All he had to do was turn away and the burning in his chest would go away, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t keep himself from watching the way you smiled or noticing how the red dress you had on accentuated all your curves. All he wanted to do was run over there and kiss you. Tell you that he made a mistake. That he wanted you back and he would do anything and everything to make that happen. Tom took a big swig of his drink before sauntering over to you, who now sat at the bar alone.

Tom walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he whispered, “Missed me?” into your ear. You immediately tensed up recognizing that voice.

“Get off me before I give you a black eye,” you said tersely, pushing his arms off you.

“Wait, wait just listen to me love. I need to say something,” Tom pleaded, the tone of his voice serious. You didn’t let him continue, holding up a finger.

“No you listen to me Thomas. I finally got over you. I finally decided to let someone into my heart again. I finally have the courage to go out on a date and of course you had to show up. God, I thought this nightmare was over. Just please, please, get out of my life,” you spat at the boy standing in front of you. You thought you were all out of tears after crying yourself to sleep each night since the break up, but there you found yourself tears blurring your vision.

Tom watched as tears formed in your eyes, his heart sinking. You didn’t want anything to do with him but he wanted everything about you. “Look, I never meant for all that to happen. I never meant to hurt you. In fact, I was planning on proposing to you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you traveling the world, not giving a fuck about what people think,” Tom grabbed your hands as he poured his heart out.

You shook your head, letting a few tears drop down your face. “Too late now. The thing is, I didn’t lose you. You lost me. You’ll spend the rest of your life searching for me in others, but I won’t be found,” you drew a big shaky breath as you said those last words. Seeing your date come back from the bathroom, you grabbed your things, took his arm, and walked towards the door. Before leaving you turned around looking at the boy in the eyes before whispering, “Goodbye Tom.”

With that you walked out leaving him broken.

tags: @bitchin-promises @wheelerswaffles @stars-sayuraloser @daddydenbrough (oof i haven’t written in so long idk who to tag...)

#Tom Holland #tom holland x reader #tom x reader #tom holland imagine #tom imagine #spider-man #spider-man homecoming #imagine #kathsongchallenge

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darkfire1220 · 7 years

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Viridescent Chapter Two: The Entrance Exam

Summary: As a child, Izuku decided it would be better if he were Quirkless than to have a power that scared everyone. Now a teenager and looking to enter U.A, he finds himself as the protege of All Might and a student of the best heroes in the nation- but there’s no running from a part of you, and he’s learning the hard way that you have to accept all of yourself to be a real hero.

"Whew…I made it…" Izuku stopped to catch his breath as he stared at the huge U.A buildings at the front of the campus.

It had been ten months since Izuku had agreed to become All Might's successor and in that time, he'd put his body through absolute hell. All Might had made him train like a maniac, pushing his body to its very limits and beyond. He'd explained that Izuku's body back then was too weak to inherit One for All right off the bat, so he had to build himself up to handle the extraordinary power.

He'd definitely bulked up a fair bit, although Izuku still looked like a skinny kid at first glance. The now fifteen year old's physique didn't compare to All Might's one bit, but that was fine for now. He had made it to the starting line and that was all that mattered.

Izuku quietly groaned. His sore muscles were aching from the strain he'd put them under this morning to finish clearing all that trash from the beach. Thinking back on it, he lifted one of his hands to cover his mouth.

"Eat this!" All Might had ordered with that big grin on his face as he held up one of his own blonde hairs to Izuku.

"Huh?" The boy just stared at him with a dumbfounded expression.

All Might laughed uproariously. "It doesn't matter what it is as long as you take in my DNA!"

"It's way too different from what I imagined!" Izuku yelped as All Might practically shoved the hair into his mouth.

"Enough of that, bottoms up kiddo!"

Despite Izuku's feeble protests, he did eat the hair. It was about as pleasant an experience as you could imagine it would be. The way it just dragged down his throat was just…gross.

"Good, now don't throw that up," All Might chuckled.

"I don't feel any different, though…"

"Of course not, how do you think your stomach works? It'll take a little time for you to digest the hair, but you'll probably feel something by the time the exam starts."

Izuku shuddered and went to go grab the shirt he'd set aside earlier. "Got it…I gotta get home and take a shower and eat before the exam in a few hours…"

All Might turned his gaze towards the ocean, the view now completely void of any obstruction. "We turned you into a vessel that can house One for All, but it was made in a hurry. You didn't even get to take it on a test run. Prepare yourself for the repercussions that it will have on your body."

Izuku glanced over his shoulder at the hero. "What do you mean?"

"You'll see," All Might replied. "In any case, focus on using One for All today. With all the time we spent building up your body to house it, we didn't get to actually work on your original Quirk at all. Ideally, that's what I'd recommend you use for this exam."

"I'm not sure if I can use it in front of people yet…" Izuku mumbled nervously.

"I know, so like I said, focus on using One for All today," All Might pat the boy's shoulder with one of his huge hands. "We'll get you comfortable with your Quirk now that you've got One for All as well. It'll just take time. Focus on the exam for now, young man."

"Yes, sir."

"Huh? Deku?"

Izuku jumped, torn from his thoughts by the familiar voice. He turned and spotted Katsuki walking towards him. "Oh, Katsuki. Hey!"

Katsuki looked a little baffled in an irritated sort of way. "What are you doing here? I thought you were gonna take the Support Course test."

"Oh, well…" Izuku scratched the back of his head as the other teen reached him. "I-I decided to try for the Hero Course."

"You serious?" Katsuki tilted his head. "Dude, you haven't used your Quirk since like the second grade. Do you even remember how?"

"I-I think it'll be okay!" They were walking towards the entrance together now. "I just…I want to try at least."

"Don't tell me you're still scared of people freaking out about it?" Katsuki scoffed in annoyance. "You can't pussy out just because everyone else is terrified of your badass Quirk. It still ain't as awesome as mine, though."

Izuku sweat-dropped. I'm pretty sure the whole reason he ended up being friends with me is because he wanted to prove that he was better than everyone who was scared of my Quirk…

"What, y'all can't handle a little green fire? What a bunch of pussies! Go drown yourselves to death, then!"

He smiled slightly at the memory. Katsuki was abrasive and frankly a total ass to pretty much everyone, (including Izuku to a certain extent) but he was a bit more friendly around Izuku. Part of that was because they ended up in a video game club together at middle school and were the best players there. Heck, they'd even won a video game tournament held between all the schools in the region. He was kind of like Katsuki's sidekick in a way, so the other teen was slightly more tolerant and less abrasive towards him. Just slightly.

"You're getting into U.A, right?" Katsuki demanded, giving him a sideways glare.

Izuku nodded. "Even if I don't pass the Hero Examination Test, I'll take the Support Class Test. I can definitely get into that one."

"No shit. You've got a fuckin' library in that goddamn head of yours," Katsuki rapped his knuckles against the timid boy's forehead. "And you take way too many notes. Just get in, got it? It'll piss me off if you fail."

"I got it," Izuku promised.

Aaaaand now he was tripping on his shoelaces.

Or I'll just die, he thought as he waited for the inevitable impact.

Except he didn't hit the ground and just remained suspended in midair. Katsuku gave him a weird look as Izuku yelped and squirmed in the air, but didn't fall.

"Are you all right?"

The boys looked up to find a teenage girl standing there with her hand on Izuku's backpack. She had shoulder-length brown hair, big brown eyes, and rosy red cheeks. Carefully, she helped to right Izuku so he was back on his feet before she clapped her hands together and smiled. "Sorry I used my Quirk without asking, but I figured it would've been bad luck if you tripped, y'know? Did nerves get to you? I'm kinda nervous too. Good luck!"

Before either Izuku or Katsuki could say a word, she was walking off. Katsuki just stared after her with a face like he couldn't decide whether to be annoyed or not. "The fuck?"

A huge smile spread over Izuku's face and his eyes practically sparkled. "I just talked to a girl!"

"You didn't say a damn thing, you dumbass!" Katsuki snapped at him. "And wipe that weird look off your face! It's creepy as fuck!"

Once they were in the auditorium, the lights hit the stage and they were greeted by a Pro Hero named Present Mic. The man had a wild haircut, spiffy glasses, and a big speaker fixture wrapped around his neck. He also apparently had never heard the phrase "keep it down" because he was being obnoxiously loud.

"Welcome everyone to my live show!" He shouted into the mic and jabbed his fingers out to either side of him at the crowd. "Everybody say HEY!"

He put a hand to his ear, but all he got was silence.

"Tough crowd!" Mic laughed. "Whatever! I'm gonna give you the run-down on how this exam is gonna go! ARE YOU READY?!"

More silence was his answer, though Izuku was muttering to himself out of habit. "Holy crap, it's really him! I listen to his talk show on the radio every week! The lecturers at U.A really are all Pro Heroes!"

"Shut up," Katsuki growled beside him.

"Pay attention, listeners!" Mic shouted. "We'll be seeing if you got skills to pay the bills in a ten minute practice run at our replica-city district! You can take whatever equipment you want, just gather at your designated meeting area after my presentation, ya dig?!"

Katsuki looked from the card he had for his test to the one Izuku had, noting that they were in different districts. "It's set up so that we can't work together with people we know, huh?"

"That makes sense," Izuku muttered. "It'd be too unfair if some people had others helping them out to stock up on points."

"That's fine, though," Katsuki dismissed. "If you got stuck in my exam, I'd end up taking all the points for myself, anyways."

Izuku wasn't at all insulted by his friend's greed for points. That was kind of the objective here, after all.

Mic was talking again. "There'll be loads of faux-villains spread all over the battlefields and each one will be rated as a One, Two, or Three pointer! Your job is to use your Quirk to take out as many of them as you can and rack up a high score! Also, you can't attack other competitors directly! That's nasty anti-hero stuff and it's against the rules, ya dig?!"

"Excuse me!"

All eyes were suddenly drawn to a student in the stands- a young man wearing glasses who bore a very stern expression on his face. "On the handout, there are clearly four types of villains listed! If this is an error, then it's a huge embarrassment for a top-tier national academy of U.A's caliber! What is the meaning of this?"

"Also, you!" The other teen suddenly twisted to glare at Izuku, who jumped in surprise and fright. "Quit muttering to yourself! We're trying to pay attention! If you think U.A is just for fun, then leave this place at once!"

Izuku practically melted into his seat from embarrassment, covering up his face as most of the other students started to chuckle at him, but he was saved from complete humiliation by Katsuki. The teen snarled and stood up, placing his foot on the railing as he yelled at the guy who had called Izuku out. "The hell did you say?! I'll kick your ass!"

The other boy recoiled from Katsuki's rage as he swept his glare over the rest of the kids in the room who were still laughing. He held up one hand threateningly and let a few small explosions pop off in his palm. "Anyone else wanna talk shit?! Shut up and mind your own business, extras!"

Most of the kids did as he said, though a few looked ready to pick a fight with Katsuki. Present Mic broke it up before things could get ugly. "Woohoo! Save that aggression for the test, kiddos! I can't say I don't like it though!"

"Thanks, Katsuki," Izuku barely managed to get out as he peeked between the gaps of his fingers.

Katsuki sat down and crossed his arms with a huff, still glaring in annoyance at the kid who had started the whole thing. "Nobody gets to mess with you but me."

Mic pointed at the teen with the glasses. "You make a good point young man, so let me explain! The fourth type of villain is called the Zero Pointer! It's a big gimmick that goes wild in tight places, ya dig? If I were you, I'd do my best to avoid that sucker!"

"I see! Forgive my interruption!" The teen made a huge bow and sat back down.

"Welp, that's enough from me!" Mic went on. "I'll leave you with a quote that my academy prides itself on! Go beyond! Plus Ultra! Now get out there and have a great time suffering this trial!"

Holy crap, it's huge!

Izuku gaped at the massive duplicate city laid out before them. Jeez, the place could've been its own town! He knew that U.A was top of the line and was notorious for going to extremes to train heroes, but this was more than he'd expected.

Glancing around at some of the other students, Izuku noticed that some of them had equipment to match their individual Quirks. He kind of wished he had something like that. Not that it matters. I don't think I can use my flames here and I've never used One for All before…I'm not sure what kind of equipment would work best with it.

His eyes suddenly found a familiar figure- the girl who had kept him from falling when they first arrived. Oh, that girl from before! Maybe I should go say hello…I need to thank her for earlier, anyways!

"You, stop right there."

Izuku went stiff as a board at the sound of that awfully familiar voice- uptight and stern. Oh great.

"That girl is trying to concentrate. Don't go over there and interrupt her," the glasses-wearing teen who had called him out walked over and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. There was a warning look in his eyes. "Who are you, anyways? Are you here to obstruct us during the exam?"

He jumped. "N-no! O-of course n-not!"

Several of the other kids started laughing as they watched, commenting on his jumpiness and the nerves Izuku was obviously dealing with. He hung his head in embarrassment. They think they're lucky to have me as an opponent…

"START!"

Everyone stopped and turned towards Present Mic, who was standing on an observation tower. They all looked confused, but the Pro laughed and yelled again. "What are you waiting for?! There ain't a countdown in a real battle, you greenhorns! Get those legs moving!"

"Huh?" Izuku blinked, then he realized that everyone else was already running into the district. "Oh, crap!"

He blitzed after them, desperate to catch up with the rest of the pack. It's fine! I fell behind a little, but it's fine! I've got All Might's Quirk now…I can do this, I can do this, I can do this!

A building to his side suddenly exploded, making him skid to a stop. Izuku's eyes widened as a robot emerged and fixed its single eye on him. "One point!"

"Target locked on. Kill!"

The robot lunged at Izuku, who froze in place. Shit! How do I use One for All?! I still don't feel any different!

It was too fast and close for him to dodge, so he glanced around rapidly. No one was in sight, so maybe…

He ducked under the robot's swing and grabbed the bot by its thin wire neck, then let his own Quirk flare up. Instantly, he was wreathed in green flames and the heat caused the robot's sensitive circuits to overload and fail. The steel creature collapsed, neck sizzling from the heat.

Izuku immediately stopped the flames and looked around frantically. Good, no one saw me. Maybe if I sneak up on more of them on my own, I can take a them out until One for All starts working. It should be working soon, right?!

"SIX MINUTES AND TWO SECONDS LEFT!"

Mic's shout pushed him to run off again. He had only gotten one point in four minutes?! He needed more points fast!

He found an intersection that was crawling with robots, but they were all being taken out by a mass of students. He saw the girl from earlier touch several of them so that they floated up, then with a clap of her hands, they fell and were destroyed. She set her hands on her knees, breathing heavily before she moved on. "That's twenty eight points!"

Twenty eight?!

Izuku jumped as the teen with the glasses came out of nowhere and destroyed another robot's head with a huge kick. "That's forty five points!"

Forty five?!

He started to panic. They never told us how many villains there were! If I don't get a move on, all of them might be taken and I'll fail!

He was about to run off to try and find more isolated villains like before, but before he could do anything, the ground began to shake. Izuku flinched and his jaw fell open in terror as a massive robot appeared further down the street, destroying a building in the process. It had a big ZERO on its forehead.

Isn't that way too much?!

He fell to the ground, cowering at the sight of the behemoth robot as it made its way towards them. The other students were already scrambling to get out of its way.

Izuku felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack. No! I only have one point! I gotta run, but I gotta get points! Why can't I feel One for All yet?! Where is it?! All the work I did with All Might will be wasted if I can't use it!

"Ow!"

He froze and looked over his shoulder when he heard the cry of pain. Izuku realized that the girl who had helped him before had collapsed and was trapped under some rubble. She looked like she was gonna be sick and couldn't move even with the Zero Pointer coming at them.

She would be crushed.

He was going for the robot before he even realized what he was doing.

Izuku crouched as he charged, feeling a rush of power surge through his body. He jumped up, surging into the air like a rocket towards the Zero Pointer. His fist clenched as he forced that power through his arm, tearing his sleeve with the raw force it gave off.

When you use One for All, squeeze your ass super tight and yell this at the top of your lungs!

"Smaaaaaash!"

Izuku drove his fist into the Zero Pointer, unleashing One for All's devastating force and pulverizing the robot as though it were made of styrofoam. The steel behemoth was lifted off the ground and hurled back with a massive crash, utterly destroyed by the impact.

He hovered in the air for a moment, shocked by the degree of damage he'd done, but like all things under gravity's influence, he started to fall.

"Whoa, shit!" Izuku yelped, flailing to regain his balance. Crap, I gotta calm down! This is All Might's power, so I should be able to land alright now…

He was suddenly made aware of his right arm and both legs flopping around at it very unnatural angles. Izuku had time to blink at his ruined limbs before pain like nothing he'd ever felt before sent lightning through his nerves.

He screamed as he fell, clutching his destroyed arm with his left hand. Tears flew from his eyes and he struggled not to vomit.

I'm an idiot! This is All Might's power! I just barely got to the point that I can keep it in my body without it killing me! I went way overboard with it!

Izuku glared at the ground through blurry eyes, trying to gauge this distance. The only way he was surviving this fall was if he used One for All with his left arm. His own Quirk wasn't gonna help him here at all.

But if he used One for All again, it would destroy his left arm and he wouldn't be able to move at all. With just one point to his name, Izuku wouldn't be able to pass the exam.

He was just twenty feet off the ground when he decided his life was worth more than the exam and curled back his fist to set One for All loose again. But just as he was about to let it rip, a hand slapped his cheek and gravity ceased to effect him.

Izuku floated slowly to the ground, glancing to the side as he realized the girl who had been trapped had floated up on a piece of debris to save him. As they hovered just over the ground, the now nauseous-looking placed her fingertips against each other and groaned. "…release!"

They hit the ground at a safe distance, at which point the girl began to vomit and Izuku struggled to maintain his composure through the terrible pain in his broken limbs. "Th-thanks…!"

He started to crawl with his left arm, looking around desperately for a robot to attack even in his injured state. "I gotta get…more points…One won't…cut it…"

"TIME'S UP!"

Present Mic's voice rang through his eardrums and once he realized what the Pro had said, despair settled into Izuku's stomach. He let his head fall to the ground and gave up to the darkness taking over his vision, knowing that all his effort had been utterly wasted.

Several of the other examinees walked over, but kept a wary distance from him. They couldn't believe the devastation he'd caused with just one punch. Destroying a robot of the Zero Pointer's size with only one blow was crazy.

"Sheesh, what the hell was that?"

"He sent that huge thing flying with just one shot…"

"But he was so timid before the test started. How the heck does a guy with a Quirk like that end up being such a scaredy cat?"

The teen with the glasses was watching from further away as the school nurse, Recovery Girl, came up to take care of the injured boy. He was frowning deeply. They're all missing the point. He jumped in to save that girl. Even though he was lacking in points, he acted to protect her from that huge robot. If this hadn't been an exam…of course, I would have done the same thing!…wait a minute. Could…could that have been a part of the test?

He watched as Recovery Girl used her Quirk to heal Izuku's broken body, thinking hard about the exam. An epiphany struck him as he considered all the factors and realized what he was missing. I see! If the test is designed like that, then this kid…

A week later and Izuku was still a ball of nerves trying to get over the pit in his stomach. He'd recovered from his broken limbs, but his failure at the exam still hurt. Even at dinner, he stared at the fish on his plate for so long that his mother started to freak out a little. He ate a little, but he just didn't have much of an appetite.

As he sat on the couch that evening, curling a dumbbell in one hand half-consciously. Day after day, he had replayed the test in his head.

If I had to guess, I think I did pretty well on the written exam, Izuku thought to himself. But with just a single point on the practical exam, that grade won't matter at all. Even All Might hasn't gotten in touch with me since then…he's probably embarrassed by how badly I screwed up after spending so much of his time to train me. God, I should just give One for All back to him…can I do that?

"…The results from your test should be in today or tomorrow, right?" Izuku's mother, Inko, tried to start a conversation with him. She was as nervous as he was.

"I guess," he mumbled.

"Even if you don't pass, I still think it's amazing that you tried! A lot of people wouldn't have had the courage to do that, you know?"

"Yeah," Izuku sighed. He hadn't told his mother about All Might. He'd promised the man, after all, not to say a word about his true identity to anyone.

Mom probably thinks I tried to take the exam with my Quirk and flunked because I can't use it. She's not totally wrong, either…

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get some of the stress out of his body with a few deep breaths. "I'll just take the Support Course exam next week…"

"I-I-I-Izuku!"

He jumped and spun around as Inko came running into the living room from the front door, holding a single envelope in her hands. The pit in Izuku's stomach turned into a terrible black hole as he saw the U.A stamp on it.

"It's here!" Inko exclaimed, nervousness all over her face. Her son looked absolutely despondent.

Izuku took the envelope and retreated into his room, placing it on his desk. He could hear Inko pacing back and forth outside the door and it did absolutely nothing to help his own nerves. He spent a good fifteen minutes just staring at the envelope before he grabbed it harshly and ripped the thing open. Instead of a letter, a small metal disk clattered onto the desk.

"I AM HERE AS A PROJECTION!"

He yelped as a video of All Might was projected onto the wall behind his desk from the metal disk. Izuku glanced back and forth from the disk to the projection in confusion for a few seconds. "Wh-what the- All Might?! Wait- this-this is from U.A, right? Huh?"

"Sorry kiddo! I had a lot of work to do so I couldn't get in touch with you!" The projection of All Might took a bow. "But it's all good! We'll be seeing more of each other since I'll be starting a teaching job at U.A!"

He looked like he was about to say something else that would drop further bombshells on Izuku's already strained brain, but the hero was distracted by someone out of frame. "What? Speed it up? I've gotta tell him a few things though…it's gonna push everything else back? How many more of these do I have to do again? Jeez, alright I got it!"

All Might cleared his throat and said the words that made every cell in Izuku's body feel like it weighed a ton. "You passed the written exam with flying colors, but you only got a single point on the practical. So of course, you didn't pass…if that were all!"

Izuku blinked in confusion. All Might gestured to a video screen behind him. "Observe, young man!"

A video began to play and Izuku realized that the girl who appeared in it was actually the one who had saved him from falling to death. She looked a little nervous as she approached Present Mic, whom she had called to get his attention. "Excuse me…I'm sorry to bother you, but there was a boy in my exam with curly hair and lots of freckles, um…he's kind of plain looking, you know?"

She was talking about him, Izuku realized. "Would it be possible to share some of my points with him? I heard him say that he'd only gotten a single point or something, so I guess he was struggling to pass…But he got really hurt and probably lost points trying to save me from that villain! Could you please at least give him the points he lost because of me?"

He swallowed hard. "She didn't have to do that for me…I…"

All Might paused the video and grinned at the screen. "What kind of Hero Course would it be if we turned down people who did the right thing? This ain't some second-rate school you tested for! The exam was not based solely on villain points!"

The video began playing again. Present Mic lifted a hand to pat the girl on the head, grinning in amusement. "No worries, lil' missy. You can't share points, but you won't have to."

All Might stepped in front of the screen as the video ended. "Laying your life on the line for other people is a huge part of being a hero. We had a special panel of judges looking for just that thing! You only got one villain point, but you scored big on the rescue points, kid! You got a grand total of sixty one points! And your friend who tried to help you out? Ochako Uraraka scored forty five points!"

He had to be dreaming. There was no way. No freaking way.

All Might's grin got a little softer. "You passed, kid."

The lump in his throat made it impossible for him to say anything. Izuku covered his face with one hand as tremors wracked his body. All Might held a hand out to him on the screen. "Come, young man. This is your hero academia!"

A/N: Yay, chapter two. I know I said I’d update weekly, but feedback has been going rather slow for the first chapter on this site, so I figured I’d throw the second one in now to spice things up a bit. Anyhow, hope you enjoy!

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #katsuki bakugou #uraraka ochako #all might #bnha #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #deku

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