#nobody cares but i listen to so much city pop when i draw them for some reason | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

some-kindofgnome · 3 years

Text

tastes so bitter (tastes so sweet)

You’re driving back from an out-of-town mission with Hawks when your car breaks down on a very sparsely-populated highway. While you await relief, things get... personal.

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), car sex, pro hero!reader, angst, emotionally unavailable hawks

notes: ta-dah!!! the car sex fic! this turned out way longer and way more feelsy than I ever intended it to be. but I’m grateful for the chance to show you how I play with plot and emotion as well as some good porn. porn with feelings, y’know?

EDIT: The supremely talented @la-saffron has created an absolutely spectacular piece of artwork for this fic! Please go and look at it right here, it’s really quite splendid

Masterlist

The shadowy trees on either side of the highway cast a chill across the pavement as the sky went dark.

It was far from sunset, but the woods were so tall and thick that the light had disappeared from the road a long time ago. The overpriced navigation system laid into the dashboard of Hawks’ luxurious car was no help at all; not when you were taking the only road for miles around.

The highway narrowly passed for two lanes, winding precariously down from the mountains. Dotted with reflective yellow signs- deer crossing, bear crossing, creatures-of-unimaginable-horror crossing. Bigfoot himself could have wandered into your headlights and you barely would’ve flinched.

But that was to be expected, given where you’d come from.

That day’s mission brought you both far, far away from the city. There was a national forest about three hours away- one of the biggest in the country- and you and Hawks had been called in at the crack of fucking dawn to drive all the way out to the woods and investigate some ‘strange reports,’ as the rangers cared to call them.

Most park rangers knew what they were seeing when guests came in from the woods reporting abnormal happenings. Nobody was truly immune to fear, though, when faced with the impossible.

Whether there were paranormal creatures lurking in those woods or not, you couldn’t have been sure. But after spending the day exhausting both your quirks combing every spare inch of those woods, you were relieved of your overnight duties by a group of other, more nature-savvy heroes.

Hawks had been miffed, but too exhausted to argue. He didn’t like to think he’d been overshadowed. You were just thankful to be going home to your own bed.

“Okay,” you sighed, nursing the last of a lukewarm soda from a burger joint at the edge of the only one-horse town you’d passed through. It was a pretty unassuming stop for dinner, but you and Hawks both agreed that the burgers were way too good to be sold to so few patrons.

Keigo was driving, with one palm splayed lazily across the bottom edge of the wheel. His scarlet wings stretched into the backseat, draping over the shoulders of his black leather backrest like some bizarre kind of seat cover.

The fact that his car was so luxurious was not lost on you- although you were more surprised to find out that he had one at all. Hawks seemed like the last person in the world to need a car, after living in a fantastic downtown penthouse. And owning a pair of wings, come to think of it.

He owned it because he could. And because he knew how good he looked in the driver’s seat.

“What?” He turned a curious eye toward you, though he never quite pulled his gaze from the road.

“I know we started this conversation on the way here,” you began, “but… we never exactly finished it.” You swirled what was left of the ice chips in the bottom of your cup, considering the best way to voice your thoughts.

“Alright.” He sounded vaguely amused, slouching a little further down and drawing an idle palm over his feathered hair. “Shoot.”

“Well…” You trailed off. “You’re kind of… a city guy.” You were already starting to talk with your hands. The racket coming from your half-drunk soda was proof enough.

“What makes you say that?”

“You are,” you defended. You let a playful edge creep into your tone. “And the agency’s kind of a city thing.”

“Am I really as one-note as you’re making me out to be?” He was chuckling. Your cheeks were going hot. You weren’t sure how this became a personal conversation, but you were determined to steer it in the proper direction. You course corrected.

“I just mean, we don’t take a lot of jobs outside the city. Like… ever. So, what’s with this one? Why this call?”

He didn’t answer right away. When you glanced across the car, he was licking his lips and appearing to be, very genuinely, thinking.

“Well,” he began. There was an immensely appealing depth that wore around the edges of his voice when he was deep in thought. You hung on tightly, trying your best to hide how intently you listened.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” He gave a lazy little shrug. His eyes were still trained on the windshield, but you could feel the weight of his urges. He wanted to look over. You turned your head, willing him to.

“Probably sounded like bullshit, now that I think about it,” he confessed, “but if there really was somethin’ freaky in those woods… I dunno. I wanted to see it.”

You resisted the urge to snort.

“Maybe you should start a ghost hunting branch at the agency.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he protested. This time, he really did drag his eyes away from the road for a second. They glinted playfully in the dark. You got a flash of pearly canine from the barest hint of a grin, but it was enough to put a stupid smile right across your face.

A sickening thud from beneath the hood zapped any false confidence you’d been building. There was a dull pop, then the engine died.

“What the- shit.” Hawks scrambled to put both hands on the wheel, navigating the car with what momentum remained over to the narrow shoulder. The tires hit gravel and soft mud, rolling pathetically to a stop and settling in damp silence.

“What the hell was that?” You leaned over the dashboard as your pulse came down from near-terminal velocity. There were half a dozen lights blinking away on the dashboard- symbols you couldn’t understand.

“Not sure.” Keigo was doing his best not to sound too perturbed. As a result, he was just perturbed enough.

You knew what those lights implied, though. Service due. Oil change due. Battery maintenance due.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, “when was the last time you took this car in for service? It’s a miracle you even made it out of the goddamn garage.”

Hawks was in the process of mashing the engine start button like an arcade game. When you spoke up, he pushed it down and held. The engine gave a dull, sad sort of sputter, but nothing roared to life.

“Look, look,” he dismissed, waving a hand in your direction as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I don’t drive this thing that often, okay? I’m gonna go check under the hood.”

He climbed out of the driver’s side and slammed the door before giving you the chance to remind him to pop the hood. For a minute, you let him wallow in his mistake, watching gleefully as he pried at the seam of it. Finally, you unbuckled yourself and leaned over, flicking the release for him.

He gave an unamused glance toward the windshield and lifted the hood, obscuring all but the very tips of his drooping wings from view.

After about fifteen seconds, he ducked back into the car with a rush of cold air behind him. He rubbed his palms together as you watched, arms folded over your chest.

“So?” You prompted. He gave a sideways glance in your direction, blowing into his chilled hands.

“So what?”

“Oh my g- what’s wrong with the car?” You tried your best not to let panic set in.

“I don’t know. It’s just a bunch of pipes and wires under there. They didn’t exactly give me a map of the thing when I bought it.”

You’d seen Hawks pull people out of burning buildings before. You’d see him think on his feet, devise a plan and act on it in the blink of an eye. Usually, he was impulsive. Confident. Clever.

Tonight, on the other hand, he was demonstrating a very clear affinity for money over brains.

You flopped into your seat, scrubbing your hands over your face. You were not going to freak out. You refused to. It didn’t matter that Keigo had suddenly become useless in the face of disaster. You were heroes, even if you had to save your damned selves.

“Oh,” he quipped from beside you. “Still got bars. See?” As you peeked over at him through one cracked eyeball, he waved his illuminated phone screen at you. “It could be worse, kid. If this were a horror movie, this thing’d be dead.”

He tapped away on the screen, seeming very pleased with himself. Even his wings gave a little ruffle, draping themselves smoothly over the back of his seat again.

“I’ll call us a tow. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

A few minutes later, you had a map pulled up on your phone while Hawks’ brow creased deeper and deeper.

“Uh-huh.” His voice had taken on that irresistible deepness to it again, but this time it was sending pangs of dread through your gut.

“Right.” He brought a palm up to smooth over his jaw, fingertips bending and pressing idly against the patches of scruff that dusted it. “Y-yep, yeah, I understand. Fifty miles is a long way. I know it’s gonna be a lot to send a truck that far. But-“

As he was abruptly cut off by the other end of the line, those idle fingers slipped up to his temple, pressing inward and rubbing in stiff little circles.

“Okay. Alright. Yeah, I guess we’ll wait, ‘cause there’s not much else we can… I understand. Yes, thank you. Thank you. Okay, we’ll be here. Or within a ten-foot radius. Thanks. B-“

He blinked rapidly at the screen as he pulled it away from his ear. “Have an excellent night, sir,” he muttered under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, lifting a hip to tuck his phone away again.

“They said they would send someone,” he said, “but the depot is, like, fifty miles from here. Could be a couple of hours.”

“A couple hours?” That cold dread was settling into your chest again. So much for sleeping in your own bed.

“Yeah. C’mon, get out.”

“What?” You glanced past him at the frosted driver’s side window. “It looks freezing out there.”

“Well then, you’d better bundle up. C’mon. I’m gonna fly us back to the city.”

“No way. Hawks- Keigo.” You grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly as he made to get out of the car.

“What?” Exasperation was creeping into the edges of his voice. The sides of his gaze, too, as he landed against the seat back with a thud and turned his cheek to look at you.

“You’ve been flying all day. Your wings are shot. You’re not flying anywhere.”

“What? They’re fine.” He gave the appendages in question a defiant flutter and a cloud of expiring feathers floated into the backseat.

You folded your arms across your chest. Hawks gave a frustrated growl.

“What do you suggest, then?” He retorted in fierce opposition to your silence. “Just sit around and fucking… die of old age before the tow truck comes?”

“Oh my god, you’re the number two hero,” you snapped back. “When did you become such a drama queen? Yes, we’re going to wait. Like a normal person would have to.”

“I’m not being dramatic; I’m presenting you with a legitimate solution and you’re ignoring it!”

“If you try to fly us both out of here, you’re gonna hit the ground before we’re halfway home. And then we’ll be really stranded, with no water and no shelter. So, if you’d like to fly back all by yourself, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to let you kill both of us.”

“Fine!” Hawks’ cheeks were flushed with temper as he kicked the door open and clambered out of the car. He kicked it shut again so hard the whole body rocked, and for a moment you were left, trapped in shocked silence.

He was really going to leave you out here. Alone.

Half a dozen heartbeats passed before his boots crunched on the shoulder and he wrenched the door open again, flopping back into the car with an immense sigh of irritated defeat.

“Fuckin’ freezing out there,” he muttered as quietly as possible.

You wanted to punch him.

“You ready to wait?”

His wings stiffened behind him, then drooped so lowly they seemed to disappear into the backseat. He looked at you from the corner of one tawny eye.

“Yeah.”

For the first hour, you honestly enjoyed yourself. As soon as Keigo accepted his fate, he got much closer to his usual mellow self. You finished off cold fries from dinner, listened to true crime podcasts on your phone, (you listened- he talked over the whole thing) and played a few ruthless games of hangman on a couple of napkins you found in the glove compartment.

You’d spent a lot of time with Hawks in a professional capacity. As partners, you took most of your missions together. You were well-versed in the way that he liked to think, the way he approached a job, a conversation. You worked well with each other and you were drawn to his quick wit and laid-back humour. Even if he was a piece of work at times, you made a strong team. But you didn’t do a whole lot of hanging out.

“Okay, that’s it,” he chided as you added an extravagant top hat to the completed, dressed hangman scrawled onto the inside fold of your last napkin. The word he’d failed to guess was ‘patience,’ and the irony of his struggling was not lost on you.

“Aw, c’mon,” you protested. “You’ve still got gloves and a bow tie left.”

“No, no, no.” He held up a palm, shaking his head. There was a good-natured grin curling his lip as he bowed toward the door. “I’m callin’ it. I gotta take a leak.”

You snatched your soda cup from the drink holder, clutching it protectively against your chest.

“You’re not going in here.”

Next, it was Hawks’ turn to shoot you a deadpan stare.

“How about in the woods? Is that allowed?”

Your cheeks went hot. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

“Aw.” Hawks shoved the door open. There was an unfamiliar glint to his eye as he tossed a mischievous look over his shoulder. “Guess you won’t be able to sneak a peek, then.”

You slammed your fist into his back. “Shut up and go take a piss.”

As the car door clicked shut, you turned the other way out of sheer habit. All you could see in the opposite window was the reflection of your own face. Maybe it was just the dim light, but you looked exhausted. Keigo had seen you caked in blood, streaked by mud and soot before. But you’d both been awake since four o’clock that morning and there was a special kind of ugly feeling that came with overtiredness.

You were dreaming about the first thing you’d do when you got home again when Hawks climbed back into the car. He looked considerably brighter as he ducked inside, and he brought a flush of rich, earthy forest-smell along with him.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it in the cold out there,” you quipped. Payback.

But Keigo just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Close the door,” you whined as the frigid air from outside finally reached your bare arms. “It’s already cold enough in here.”

“Aw,” he crooned, tugging the door shut behind him. “You scared of a little cold now, kid? It’s not so bad out there. Feel.”

He lunged at you, ducking rapidly to rub his frigid cheek against your shoulder. You let out a terse yelp and squirmed, trying to shove him back amid a sea of chilled giggles. He got a few passes of his icy skin on yours before you both realized how close you’d gotten.

Hawks cleared his throat and scooted away from you. In the bare light from the shitty overhead lamp, you were starting to see the outline of a flush creeping into his cheeks.

The light abruptly went out, leaving you in darkness again.

“Tell me something,” he mused, grabbing for the abandoned takeout bag and digging a hand into it. He produced a tiny wrapped square and tore it open with his teeth, removing the folded alcohol wipe from inside and gliding it with impossible grace over his fingertips. He eyed you sideways.

“How come we don’t hang out more?”

Your chest went cold. You’d been dreading that question all night. Longer than that, even.

“What d’you mean?” It was a gut response, but you instantly kicked yourself for even attempting to play dumb.

“You know,” he chided, dumping the wipe back into the paper bag once he was finished with it. “We work. We do interviews together. We do those bullshit PR functions together. I’ve known you- what, two years? And we’ve never even been for a drink. What gives, kid? Don’t tell me I grate on you.”

“I get plenty of you on company time,” you retorted. You were starting to panic. You weren’t ready for this conversation, but it didn’t seem like you were going to be rescued by the timely arrival of the tow truck.

“Okay, okay, I’d take that,” he laughed, “if you hadn’t agreed to take this mission with me. C’mon, this wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five gig.”

He paused. “Come out with me this weekend.” He nudged your shoulder with a bony elbow. You tried your best not to snap.

“Stop,” you pressed quietly. “You know why we don’t.”

The smirk slipped from Keigo’s face.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Wait a second, there’s an actual reason? What the hell is it?”

The confusion was genuine on his face. Hawks could be a smarmy little shit when he wanted to be. But you could tell he wasn’t fucking with you.

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out like a deep breath. Your hand drifted to your mouth as cold shock ran over your skin. “You really don’t remember.”

“No.” His confusion was bordered with fear. He sat back a little, letting his eyes drift over your expression. “No, I really don’t.”

You swallowed hard. You should have known that you’d have to talk about this eventually. But he didn’t even remember the night that had been changing the way you acted around him for nearly a year.

“Last Christmas,” you began. Your breath was so short that it put a desperate hush to your voice that you absolutely hated. You revelled in your ability to act casual around him, but the more probing he got, the harder that composure was slipping.

“At the agency gala. You remember the party, right?”

Hawks rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I got trashed.” He paused. Realization dawned on his face, and he shot you the deepest, most sincere look of concern you’d ever seen. Even more sincere than the look that crossed his face when you got shot off the roof of a house and broke a rib.

He leaned forward.

“Did I do something?” He swept a palm over his mouth, fingertips dallying at his chin. You knew exactly how he felt in that moment. You’d been there before, too, realizing that you’d lost control. Blacked out. Understanding that you might have done something you were going to regret.

“You really don’t remember a thing?” It was your turn to be horrified. How could something that consumed your every thought stay so damned far from his?

His fingers were still curved around the point of his chin. He’d gone white, and he shook his head as his eyes cast down to his lap.

“You fucking kissed me, okay?” You snarled with a whip of frustration. “There was mistletoe and you kissed me under it and-and Christ, I can’t believe you.”

“What? What?” He demanded as his voice grew defensively sharp.

“I had no idea what you were gonna do. What you were gonna say, what was gonna change between us. I showed up to the agency the next morning and your hungover ass acted like nothing had ever happened.”

“Of course I did,” he defended, “I didn’t think anything did happen. Oh my God, did I really kiss you?” His wings were coming to life all of a sudden, bristling on either side of his seat. There was a dull whisp as one edge of them brushed against the window. They seemed to expand, along with his horror, to fill the entire car.

He pushed further. “Well, did you… did you want me to?”

You could see where his thoughts were taking him. The answer was an impossible dilemma. To lead him further down that path would not only be cruel, it would be untrue. But to tell him the truth- that you had wanted it- would be to shatter the fragile illusion of casual, platonic intimacy that you’d been building over the last two years.

You chewed your lower lip. Hard enough to hurt.

“Oh god, you didn’t,” he gasped. That was enough for you to lift your chin and shoot him a sudden, sad, pathetic little look.

“Jesus,” he gasped again, deeper this time. “You did.”

“Look,” you snapped. “I was never gonna say anything to you. I was never gonna push it. You didn’t feel that way and I knew that and I just wanted to work.”

He told you enough about his personal life as it was. Every date he swung in from on Monday morning, every Friday night he spent preening in the last hours of the workday hurt enough already. If you’d grown close, fallen harder, it would’ve become too much to bear.

“What do you mean, I didn’t feel that way? What way don’t I feel? How could you even know that?” He was beginning to raise his voice back at you and the adrenaline was pushing you way too far to listen.

“Because you never said a fucking word to me about that kiss! You pretended like it never even happened, Kei! What was I supposed to think!”

“If you’d asked me, you woulda known that I didn’t speak up ‘cause I didn’t remember a goddamn thing!” Keigo jammed a finger into his temple. His golden eyes flashed. He was so fucking hot when he was angry, but this was not a fight you ever wanted to have.

Luckily for you, he was having it without you.

“What do you want me to say to that?” He snarled. “Huh? What- you want me to tell you that I’m sorry for not having psychic powers? That I’m sorry I didn’t hire a mind-reader to tell me what the fuck was going on with you?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. You were on the verge of tears.

“I-I never-“ you began, but Keigo beat you to the punch,

“You know, maybe I noticed that you were actin’ funny around me. And maybe I should’ve asked. But maybe if you ask yourself, and if you really, honestly give yourself the truest answer, you’d be able to admit that you knew how I felt about you. That you always knew.”

“Of course I knew!”

Your response echoed raw and deafening in the silence of the car. You’d lost your temper and shouted it at him with every decibel left in your breathless chest. Your fists were clenched atop your frigid thighs as you bent over in your seat, shivering. To your immense embarrassment, warm tears trickled down the sides of your nose.

He was right, after all. Every sideways smile he’d given you was just a little too broad to be friendly. Every time he caught you by the hand, he held it just a little too long. Every time he offered you the crook of his elbow at a stuffy charity gala and every time he poured you into a cab at the end of the night, he promised to take good care of you. Every time he looked at you at all it was with a depth that you had recognized, but never understood.

“But look at us, Kei. Look at what we do to each other.”

You sniffled, scrubbing tears off your cheeks with the heels of your hands. He reached for you, seeking to comfort, but his hands twitched midair and he drew back instead.

“Yeah,” he croaked. You tossed a glance in his direction. He looked more dejected than you’d seen him in a long time. He rested both hands on top of the wheel, the rest of his body sagging against the seat back.

“Except now I’ve told you,” you continued. “And now we both know, so everything’s fucked no matter what.”

You were met with silence. The truth was dawning on you. You hated to even consider it, but it felt like what needed to be done.

“When we get back to the city,” you started. Hawks interrupted you with a low rasp of your name.

“No, when we get back, I’m giving you my resignation.”

“Fuck, stop.”

Keigo lunged, grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you toward him. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The warmth of his closeness weighed on you like a heavy quilt. You couldn’t even pretend not to be immensely comforted by affection from him.

“I’m not gonna let you do that, kid.”

You were both drawing deep breaths- slow, rolling gulps of air that matched over gradual time. You licked your lips, bracing your chilled palms on his shoulders. Your fingertips brushed the very edges of his feathered hair, dull and soft in the dark.

You’d talked each other down from bigger, badder edges before. But this one had sharp, jagged rocks waiting at the bottom. This one, you were going to have to jump from together.

“I can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I can’t keep myself away from you like this.”

“Don’t.” His voice was hushed and so achingly tender, like he couldn’t take the command himself.

“I can’t-“

“Then, don’t.”

He was firmer this time, and the pad of his thumb brushed the bottom of your lip. He pulled back just a hair, grazing the tip of his nose across yours. The heat of his breath puffed over your lips and his blonde eyelashes threatened to tickle your cheek.

He drew in a slow, calculated breath.

“Lemme kiss you. Lemme try again. I’m not gonna forget it this time, I swear.”

“Keigo, please.”

“Just lemme try. Just once. I’ll never ask you again, if you don’t want me to.” He pulled back the rest of the way and your body keened at the loss, but he looked deeply into your eyes. Deeply like he’d never been allowed to look before.

You licked your lips. Considered it for half a heartbeat. Then you gave a slow little nod.

“Okay.”

To your surprise, he didn’t lunge again. He took his time with you. He cupped your cheeks tenderly between his bare palms, memorizing the curve of your face. He stared, taking you in like this. At his mercy.

Finally, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a soft kiss, heartbreakingly loving. You responded eagerly, blossoming beneath his touch and bracing your hands on the broad plane of his chest. Your fingers curled in the fleece that lined his coat.

You kissed back with near-desperate urgency, shamelessly showing him how touch-starved you’d become. Dating was pointless when Keigo stole your whole heart every time you showed up to work.

The quiet press of his tongue had your jaw going slack in his hands. Your kiss went needy all at once, and he licked into your mouth with a hunger behind his movements that you never anticipated sensing from him.

You broke from him first, turning your cheek to him as your lungs burned. Your mouth was swollen, and you gasped greedily for whatever stale air lingered between you. He grabbed your chin and forced your eyes back to his.

His gaze was fearsome. Ravenous. You were powerless beneath it.

You combed your fingers through his hair like you’d always wanted to, settling your palm at the nape of his neck. Your own voice was nearly unrecognizable, nothing more than a feral growl.

“Get in the back.”

Hawks took one look at the narrow gap between his seat and yours and sat up, nudging the driver’s side door open. He climbed eagerly into the road and then back into the back seat, settling in the center with his legs and wings splayed wide.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to wiggle out of your boots and pants and slam dunk everything into the foothold of the passenger’s seat. You climbed over the center console in your underwear and settled into his lap.

Even though you had to bow your head against the cushioned ceiling, it was a holy sensation. Your thighs settled perfectly into the crooks of Keigo’s legs, and his hands slid so naturally over the curves of your hips. It was as if you’d done this before.

You kissed him again, using the weight of your newly boosted height to descend hard and loving against his lips. He grabbed you hard by the ass, drawing you smooth and tight against his hips.

“God,” he groaned eagerly into your mouth.

“You’re so. Fucking. Perfect,” you hissed back into his, and he squeezed you harder, breaking his lips from yours to trail a hungry path of kisses along the edge of your jaw. His scruff scratched at your chin just like you imagined it would. You loved him like this- trimmed, unshaven. The rougher, the better.

“Don’t say that,” he purred dangerously close to your ear. “You’ve seen me at my worst.”

You tried not to grin, remembering Keigo barfing over the balcony of the Plaza after one too many charity-benefit martinis. Keigo caked in ooze after cutting open that sludge villain from the inside. Keigo on the verge of tears, just a few minutes ago.

“I still think so,” you pressed, and he smiled against your cheek. His wings, tired and bruised but majestic as ever, stiffened proudly. They were capped firmly by the cramped space that surrounded you, but the feathers that spread across the back seat were sleek and graceful.

You dug your fingertips between his jacket and his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his torso all over. He did his best to shrug it open, but the material was caught up on his wings- no getting it off now.

He wound his hands into the hem of his shirt and tugged it up for you. The skin you could feel by slipping your fingers underneath was all you were going to get.

Not that it mattered to you. It was far more than you’d let yourself so much as picture before. While you felt your way across his heated abdomen, he dipped his head to your pulse point. He scraped the points of his teeth across your tender flesh, making you sigh and shiver. He pressed a hand to the small of your back to keep you close and nibbled all the way down to your neckline, leaving a trail of tiny welts in his wake.

They would fade by morning. Tonight, the feeling was enough.

He glided smooth, tender fingers up your sides. You straightened, letting him wedge your long-sleeved t-shirt up around your shoulders. You had to bend even further and press your forehead awkwardly against his shoulder to wrench it off. Once he peeled the fabric over your head, you tossed it haphazardly toward the front seat. Keigo was already going to work on his fly.

The tender press of his erection had grown apparent by that point, stiff and needing down one thigh of his thick pants. You reached between your legs and palmed it indulgently. There was an answering throb of arousal in the pit of your belly as you felt the shape and thickness of it trapped against his body, and an even stronger one when his hips pressed into your touch and he gave a low rumble of approval.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he crooned. With his pants unfastened, and the bulk of his cock shifted to the stretchy pouch of his undershorts, he slid a fingertip down the plane of your belly and curled two graceful digits between your thighs.

“Are you wet for me yet?” He shot you a deep, lustful stare. You rocked your hips against his fingers, hopeless in resisting the pleasure he offered. Keigo nudged the crotch of your thong easily aside, dipping his middle finger against your slit.

He sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth as you gave a simultaneous yelp of stimulation. When he looked up at you again, he bore a sly little grin. You’d seen it a thousand times before, but never with such desire. And never all for you.

“You’re drippin’, kid.” He arched his palm, slipping that finger slowly upward and easing it inside you. There was no stretch, but the sensation of intimacy- of being felt in such a way by those hands that you’d never dared to fantasize about- was intoxicating in its own right.

Keigo was, apparently, feeling it, too. His eyes were deeply lidded, glazed completely by his own desire. The tip of his cock had found its way over the waistband of his undershorts, weeping shiny precum against his stomach and the bottom of his shirt.

He curled a blunt fingertip inside you, massaging your tender front wall. The feeling rappelled up the column of your spine and brought deep trembles forward. It brought fresh handfuls of wet slick from your depths, gliding down his palm and between his fingers. He took the hints your body offered and rubbed faster, watching the way your expression morphed from desire to pleasure.

“Stop,” you hushed, leaning forward and pushing your lips to his. He drew his hand back from you immediately, settling it on your thigh. The wet little print it left against your skin wasn’t lost on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” you replied. “Just ready for you.”

He gave a low, loving little chuckle and shifted beneath you. “Can’t hold out any longer?”

You smiled into his hair. “Don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” His smile was even, but the tug in his voice betrayed his fraying nerves. It thrilled you to know that you weren’t the only one putting way too much emotional stock in this. It was immensely validating to discover that he’d been anticipating it, too.

He wiggled and squirmed against the backseat, shucking his pants and underwear down over his thighs and letting his cock pop out. It bobbed against his stomach- thicker than you’d imagined- framed by a trimmed scruff of tawny hair that disappeared under his shirt.

“Fuck,” you sighed in spite of yourself.

“I know, right?” He rasped. He reached for you, cupping your jaw. He brought your forehead down to his, giving a weak laugh. “What the hell have we been waitin’ for?”

“We just needed the bottle episode to shove us together,” you giggled. “C’mon, we’re a walking trope right about now.”

“We’re about to become a different trope if you don’t let me fuck you.” It was his turn to play the desperate card. But the ache between your thighs had not dulled, even a little.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft and you lifted your hips. He gave the heated tip a playful little swipe along your slick slit, but his game backfired when both of you let out tight cries of sensation.

You rocked your hips forward, taking his tip eagerly inside. The sensation was toe-curling, made even better by the way he held you tightly against him, nosing at your ear and kissing any patch of skin he could reach.

He brought his free palm to your ass as soon as you were situated, helping you slide the rest of the way onto his cock. With your knees braced on either side of his lap and your feet pressed tightly against the front seat, you let him bottom out. And for a moment, you just sat there.

“Jesus,” Keigo sighed, lolling his head against the seat behind him. You still had your head deeply bowed, trapped in the space that seemed just an inch too tight.

“I…” Your thighs shuffled. Your hips gave a little squirm. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Keigo cracked an eye and lifted his chin, sensing a problem.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just…” Your cheeks went hot. You licked your lips. “I can’t move.”

His gaze cast downward, to the place where you were joined. He took in the press of your thighs, the curve of your neck. He snorted.

“No, you can’t. C’mere, kid, I gotcha.” He planted that palm on your ass again, drawing your hips forward and up, as far as you could take them. Your head and neck bowed with the rest of your back as he draped your upper body over his chest and held you tightly against him.

Then he planted his feet and gave one good, deep thrust. Your innards gave a jerk. Oh, fuck.

“That’s it,” you panted into his ear. He nodded tensely.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “That’s workin’ for ya? Alright, alright. We’ve got this, kid, c’mon. Lemme show you somethin’ good, okay?”

One thrust sent you spiralling. But the rhythm that he dove into- steady, tough, fluid- sent every nerve through your body into meltdown. You were entirely incapable of dealing with such pleasure, combined with the emotions that swirled through your lovestruck brain.

It felt as though you had been holding out needlessly for all this time. Like all the hurt and frustration and heartbreak you shed over him would be evaporated, now that you understood that he wanted you like this, too.

Like that was all there was. You, Hawks, and the free love you could now share.

“I’m n-not-“ Keigo stuttered, piping up after a series of breathless pants and airy groans, “n-not gonna last much longer, kid, you’re… really gonna make me feel it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed back. You looped your arms tightly around his neck, tilting your hips forward. You could feel the barest hint of stimulation when your clit brushed his belly, so you leaned into it- aching for your own release.

His rhythm doubled as the intensity of your pleasure spiked dangerously high, and when you gripped him hard and rocked your hips in time with his, there was a low, warning pull that echoed all the way up to your throat. You were close. Very close.

Your head dropped backward and Keigo leaned forward, drawing his mouth up the vulnerable column of your throat. He panted hard and heavy against your pulse point.

“That’s it, kid, that’s fuckin’ it, baby, oh, God, I’m g-gonna f-fucking… I- shit, I- can’t… fffuck!”

Keigo let a vicious roar tear from his throat as he reached his vibrant peak. His erratic thrusts brought you to a tight little climax, too, and you clung to him and whined and rode through the pleasure as he fucked madly up inside you, spurting messy shots of cum into your depths.

Gravity took hold of his pleasure, dripping it onto his shaft and pooling it in a sloppy mess between you. And when it was all finally over, you collapsed against his body and you both stayed, airless and spent, wrapped tightly around one another.

It was the bright flash of headlights on the back of his neck that brought you to the surface, moments later.

The inside of the car was warm and stuffy and damp. Had you just come in from outside, you might have realized that it reeked of sex. Sweat and breath and fluid and feeling. The windows were near-opaque, fogged by the dampness of your lovemaking.

It was a moment you might have loved to capture, if you weren’t about to be so rudely interrupted.

The light in your rear windshield was bright white and flashing orange. Unmistakable.

“The tow truck,” you wheezed, scrambling off of Keigo’s lap. “Oh, fuck.”

“Get dressed,” he muttered weakly, already scrambling to get himself cleaned up and decent. He was far more dressed than you were, so you did your best to climb back into the passenger’s seat and slide back into your own clothes. You banged your shin hard on the center console, and your head on the ceiling as your body flailed in retaliation. You crumpled into the front seat and nearly kneed yourself in the mouth trying to scramble back into your pants.

By the time you climbed out of the car, fully dressed, with a few additional bruises, Hawks was already standing on the shoulder, talking to the driver. The driver was wagering a few guesses on what might be wrong with the car. Hawks’ eyes had already glazed over.

“Hey,” he greeted, as he spotted you emerging over his shoulder. He introduced you quietly to the driver before the ballcap-wearing, bearded man spoke again.

“Yeah,” he gruffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll give you a lift to garage nearby. It’s kinda late, but he keeps weird hours. I bet he’ll take a look for you, it’s prob’ly an easy fix.”

“That sounds great,” you gushed, clasping your palms together. There was a lot of stiffness settling in around your hips and thighs. You couldn’t be sure if it was a result of the compromising position you’d nearly been discovered in or the whole lot of not moving you’d done for hours before that.

Either way, it felt good to stretch your legs.

“You c’n go ahead and hop in the back,” the driver directed, waving the key that Keigo had apparently already given him in indication. “I’ll get you hooked up, no problem.”

Keigo opened the truck door for you, and you climbed over the passenger’s seat into the back. He followed closely behind you, tugging the door shut and slouching into the opposite side.

You sat in silence; hands clasped between your knees. A confusing air settled between you.

You felt vulnerable and raw and moony. You wanted to hold his hand and curl up to him in the back seat. Kiss his cheeks and tell him how good it was, tell him how much you felt.

For you, though, it could never be that simple. There was no free love for heroes like you.

Pay later, always.

Keigo felt the weight of your gaze. He turned to meet your eyes and shot you a thin smile. You’d seen the look that he’d turned to hide from you, though.

The truck driver climbed into the front seat before words could pass between you. But you didn’t need to hear them to know what they were going to be.

You didn’t need a warning to understand what Monday morning at the agency was going to look like.

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfic

936 notes · View notes

honey-hippie-harper · 3 years

Text

Infrangible

AFGHSAGHJS THIS IS SO LATE IS NOT EVEN FUNNY ANYMORE LMAO

In my defense, I stopped being a person long ago and now, in all the ways except physical, I happen to be a potato. BUT ANYWAY :’) This is for the Renegades Ship Week hosted by @greasicookies <3 (Thanks again!), for day 5, which is Maxpie. The prompt is “secrets”! <3

I had a tough time writing this because I’m going through a lot of stuff rn :’) still, I hope you can enjoy it x’ddd.

Tag list: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @the-wee-woo-rita and afsghagshja @all-weather-is-bad (because this is a very...me fic lol and I think you’re already used to my sad attempt at humor haahahaah i’M SORRY AGSHJAKL) AND @lackadae because agshjs I made a reference to one of your drawings, hon :’) (I promise once again, to catch up with your content once I feel better afsghjak).

And that’s it. I hope you like it <3

When Max turned nine, he reached the conclusion that everybody forgot their early years at some point. Before, Adrian had already explained to him that wasn’t quite true, because he misunderstood Max’s statement and thought he was feeling bad about himself for not being able to recall certain things. He told him that, unlike what he thought –which was false because that’s not what Max meant- people usually couldn’t store those memories from when they were younger than three.

“Some people do.” He said. “But it’s normal if you don’t remember anything from when you were…I don’t know. Two.”

“Do you remember anything from when you were two?” Max asked him.

From the other side of the glass, Adrian scrunched up his nose. And then, obviously, he saw himself in the need to adjust his glasses.

“I’m not quite sure whether I was two or not. But I do know I was younger than five.” He started. “There was a small canal on the way to the apartment. When it rained, it would grow a lot. It didn’t have big torrents or anything, but it did grow a lot. The water usually went higher than my ankles. But the thing was…that every time it grew, it became infested with turtles.”

He paused for a second.

“I really liked turtles.” He continued, shrugging. “My mother used to let me walk down to the water, as long as she was right behind me, obviously; one day, when we were coming back from the city, she stopped to attend a call. I got too impatient and went down alone when she wasn’t looking. The next thing I remember is that, just when I was getting up after catching a turtle, I felt her tugging me by the back of my shirt. The turtle fell on its shell.”

At that point, Max realized he had been staring at how he kept on fidgeting with his pen instead of looking him in the eye, but he continued doing so, because he didn’t like it when Adrian’s voice turned that serious.

“…She had never screamed at me like that.” He said, as if he were talking to himself and then, to erase the tension, he tried to scoff. “I don’t remember what she said, but I remember that she said it so loud I told her she was scaring the turtle. Then I started crying. Like, a lot. I think she was terrified too.”

In the end, everything turned too quiet for his liking, and Max did something his dad had advised him to do for times like these, when he just didn’t know what came next: Improvise.

“I didn’t know you liked turtles.”

“…Well, I did. I really liked turtles when I was younger.”

Max had seen a couple of turtles in his life, but not as many as Adrian had seen, he supposed, because Max had never stepped outside, except when he was a baby.

Which was exactly the point.

He didn’t have memories from when he was a baby, or a toddler. Most of the people who had come to talk to him had said they remembered events that were either too sad (like Adrian) or meaningful in their lives. Max didn’t have anything like that. In fact, his first –very blurry- memory was standing on the edge of the quarantine, with his hands pressed against the crystal, and then licking it.

According to his dads, he was between three and four (“He was three, Simon. What are you talking about?” “He was born in November.” “It wasn’t November yet.” “We had just celebrated his birthday. He was four.” “HE WASN’T FOUR, SIMON! HE WAS THREE! THREE! We were celebrating that his quarantine had just been built!” “IT WAS THE SAME EVENT, HUGH!”) and Aunt Tamaya, plus the both of them, were in the hallway. For some reason, the fact that his eyes were so huge (they were still big. But they were bigger when he was a baby) came off as odd to Tamaya. And the moment they made eye contact, he licked the glass.

Nobody knew why. Not even himself. The adults remembered it better than he did, of course, but none of them had ever been able to guess the reasoning behind it. They often expressed Max had been a very strange baby, mostly because of his lack of social skills. It’s not like he had chosen that, and it’s not like his fathers would’ve allowed it to happen if they had had any other option. But Max wasn’t willing to stand there and pretend that he knew what he was doing, either.

Most of the time, he didn’t.

He barely held any memories of the nurses that had ever been in charge of his care, but, for obvious reasons, he remembered Dad. It was always easier to remember the person who had taken care of you the most, he supposed. And Max knew, among a lot of things, that it wasn’t his other dad’s fault. Though, sometimes, he couldn’t help but blame him.

Again, he didn’t know why, but there were those days, when he needed he the most, where a voice inside of his head told him that, if Simon loved him enough, he would just sacrifice his powers to be with him. His powers weren’t that useful for combat anyway.

“Okay, but that’s kinda mean.” Adrian told him the first time he opened up about it, the night before he attended the Trials to choose the members of his patrolling team. “Pops might not have combat powers, but they’re as important as the rest of the members’. That’s why they work so well as a team, you know? Every power can be extremely helpful during a battle, as long as you know how to use it.”

Max wasn’t doing anything in particular that day. Nothing besides listening to Adrian and sitting on the floor , at least.

“But if every power is useful…” He said, tilting his head to the side. “…Why are you allowed to reject certain aspirants?”

Adrian frowned a little, not in the sense that he looked angry at Max. Rather, he was confused by the question and was trying to word the answer in a way that sounded rational.

“Because…” He gulped and clicked his tongue. “…Like I said…uhm…the Council is an extremely good team. They’ve been doing this for a while. Us, the patrolling leaders are…allowed to reject certain prodigies because we don’t have as much experience as them. And…we might not know how to use somebody’s powers, and that’s very dangerous. We don’t want people dying, do we?”

When he said that, something clicked inside Max’s brain, and he nodded in automatic. Obviously, a few years ago, a non-prodigy teacher had taught him how to read, and the moment Adrian notified him it was his year to be in the Trials, he managed to read the manual and the rules for the event, from a booklet and a pamphlet (respectively) he had asked his dad to bring for him. He didn’t get much new information, different from the one he heard on TV or the one presented in the posters. However, amongst the rules, there was a section that talked about banned powers, which contained only two categories:

-Complete telekinesis.

-Stardust modelling.

“Yeah.” Dad told him. He was bathing him in the quarantine’s bathroom (Of course. Where else?). “Stardust catchers…which….are able to model stardust, are extremely dangerous and there’s not much research about them. Nobody really knows how they work, and it would be pretty difficult for us to… handle a prodigy like that.”

“Like me.”

Dad had always had a pretty specific routine he had to follow when bathing him. If he missed or misplaced a step, he acted like would explode or something. Also, Max didn’t understand why, but ever since he started growing thicker hair, Dad became pretty strict on the fact they should take care of it so it would grow healthy. Hence why they had a full hair routine that they did in the bathtub. That day, the statement caught him so off-guard he grabbed the wrong bottle, and then, when he realized it, he was already pouring the dense liquid (that looked more like a paste to him) on Max’s head. Cursing under his breath, he placed his other hand in the middle so it would fall over his palm, washed Max’s head and started the routine all over again, before changing the subject:

“About complete telekinesis…there’s obviously a lot of research about that power. We know how to manage with that. But telekinetic prodigies are not …very accepted in our society. They’re pointed at…Frowned upon. In the worst of cases, other prodigies hunt them down and then kill them.”

In that moment, Max came to the conclusion that all that changing the subject thing had been in vain.

Because, from his part, the answer was exactly the same:

“Like me.”

And Dad didn’t like that, for he started scratching his scalp harder, accidentally.

“No. It’s nothing like you.” He said. “You’re not like that, Max. Society hates telekinesis because some evil dude decided to use his powers, his telekinesis, for awful reasons and stained prodigy’s names. You’re not like that. You’re not abusive, or selfish or evil. And I don’t want to hear you comparing yourself to him ever again. Understood?”

To this day, that was the most aggressive form of validation someone had ever given him, but Max took it anyway, because he trusted Dad, and if he had said something like that, then there had to be a clear reason behind it.

“Understood.” He whispered.

And he tried, he really tried, to believe it. But, like many other things, no matter how hard Max tried, he was still severely confused. Not that he didn’t know about the Age of Anarchy, or the parties involved in the Age of Anarchy.

The quarantine, needless to say, could get pretty boring most of the time. Max had to do a lot of things to kill time, and some of those activities involved reading books that children shouldn’t be reading. He did read some children’s books, but then he would find himself looking through history articles and books, and reading the chapters that interested him the most. For instance, he was confident he knew about the Age of Anarchy, but one thing was knowing about it, and another, different thing, was having an opinion about in regards to it.

Max didn’t know if he had something to say about the topic. If he did, it was a very incomplete idea, and it was very likely he wouldn’t be able to phrase it correctly.

The group of people Max talked the most to were adults, and those adults, especially the ones who had experienced the Age of Anarchy and somehow managed to make it out alive, refused to talk about it. As for the few children he had talked to…

Well, about them…

Long story short, they had lives.

They all had lives outside of a glass, unlike Max. Maybe they weren’t the most interesting of lives, but at least they for sure had to be more interesting than his’. They didn’t have a pre-established schedule, where a designated person would come in to feed him or extract blood samples from his body, to then take them to the laboratory. They didn’t have to hear a total of seven alarms to remind him what he had to do: Wake up and get dressed, have breakfast and brush his teeth, enter the virtual sessions with his teachers, take a shower, have his blood samples taken, start doing his homework –if he had any- and do whatever he wanted once he was finished, have dinner, brush his teeth and go to bed, and then start all over again.

That moment, when he had spare time, would be the same one normal kids used to go out with their friends, like Adrian did. To go to the park and get themselves a scarily huge wound at the center of their knee. To live. To breathe air. To do…literally anything that wasn’t this.

Because Max was different from the many children he hadn’t yet gotten the opportunity to meet or talk to, because, obviously, they wouldn’t want to spend the whole day hanging out with a person…like him.

The only way Max could see two out of the three people in his family was through a crystal wall. And he couldn’t kiss them, he couldn’t touch them… sometimes he even wondered if he knew how their voices sounded, because, after all, Dad’s voice sounded the tiniest bit different once he crossed that infamous glass door.

He couldn’t walk through the streets of Gatlon, because, for starters, he didn’t know them. And if he dared to go out there, he would get killed on spot for having accidentally neutralized a prodigy who didn’t want to be neutralized.

Other kids had nannies whom they complained about when their parents couldn’t look after them (at least that’s the kind of things he saw on the TV shows he watched) but Max had patrol units that would move from one corner of the room to another, ready to attack anyone who came closer than necessary to him, because the only one who could take care of him in person, was Hugh.

Other kids could go out freely, without being scared of anything at all. They could get hurt while having fun with their friends and family. They could laugh until they cried with them. They could hug them, sleep in the same bed as them. They could walk their pets, go on road trips, go to amusement stores, water parks…

They could experience the current world; watch all the new events that were happening every day, in first hand.

They didn’t have to read about the past, or the people from the past to keep themselves entertained. They didn’t have the need to do that. At all.

They were living the lives Max couldn’t have, because he was too dangerous for that.

And obviously, that’s why he couldn’t just…go around asking other kids about what was their favorite bug, their favorite planet…or their opinions about Ace Anarchy, and if Pops (Simon) saying “Alec, with an A as in Abusive Swine” made them laugh.

Besides, he hadn’t even met that many kids his age. Or kids, for that matter.

He was aware Adrian wasn’t exactly a grown up, but he wasn’t a kid either, so, he usually didn’t make it into that list.

In fact, just like the banned powers in that manual, there were only two kids in Max’s list of acquaintances.

Aunt Tamaya’s first baby was born without powers, when Max was like four years old, and his dads were way too excited about it (Weird thing to brag about out loud, honestly, because all the recruits in the Headquarters were betting ridiculous amounts of money on which powers the Thunderbaby would have –Max could hear them- and one day they just heard The Dread Warden storming into the hallway, euphorically screaming “GUESS WHAT, MY LITTLE CHERUB BABY? YOUR COUSIN IS ABSOLUTELY FREAKING POWERLESS!”), for they thought Max would finally be able to have a friend who was more or less his age. Dad was the one who brought him in, two weeks after he was born. He was still tiny, red and chubby, and wrapped in his three different blankets that way, he looked like a bloated marshmallow.

Aunt Tamaya, her husband, Pops, Adrian, Aunt Kasumi and Uncle Evander were outside (as always) waiting to see what happened…and, it was extremely odd for Max to admit it, but he couldn’t remember much about that moment, even though he was already older than three. There was, however, a video taken by Uncle Evander where, if you narrowed your eyes hard enough, you could see the moment Max burst into tears right after kissing the baby’s cheek.

Neil was his friend.

At least, Max considered him to be his friend. Still, they had an age gap of four whole years, and a part of him was waiting until he was a little older so they could be on the same page. Because sometimes, when Neil couldn’t comprehend something semi-important that Max had just said, things could get pretty awkward, because there were occasions when, if Neil got too frustrated over anything, he would start crying, and his sobs often summoned his mother all the way from across the building. She never particularly tried to put the blame on Max. In fact, she hadn’t even glared at him not once, ever.

But she did choose to take him with her, into her office, or ask Adrian to babysit him while he calmed down. Afterwards, he usually didn’t come back to the quarantine.

“It’s not your fault, Max.” Pops would tell him, always. “It’s just that…Neil...he’s younger than you. There are things that might be…easy to you, but that are super complicated to him. And you might be able to do things that he can’t, and he can’t understand why he can’t, so he gets super confused and angry and that’s why he cries and Tamaya has to come and comfort him.”

“That, and because she’s like a...very freaky bird mom who hears her children cry and comes around with her super sonic enhanced sense of hea—“

“Hugh, don’t be rude.”

Every time they had that discussion in front of him, Max could never understand why Pops said Dad was being rude. He was right, to a certain extent. Aunt Tamaya was just…being a mom.

And that’s what moms did.

At least, that’s what Max had read and seen on TV because families like his’ were…super rare to find in his cartoons or favorite books. In fact, the times when he had seen himself represented in any of the things were so few that, for the longest time, Max had this weird, messed up idea that biological men could give birth. He thought that Adrian, apart from the fact that he was the closest to him, looked more similar to Simon, and that had to mean he had given birth to him, while Hugh had been the one to give birth to Max.

One year, when Max was six, they finished Lady Indomitable’s gigantic golden statue, placed downtown. It was late June, and though the city had previously looked covered in colors, that day it just looked…white and golden. That’s the best way Max could find to put it into words.

According to Max’s weather application, the heat was unbearable that day (good thing he couldn’t feel anything because the temperature in the quarantine was always regulated) yet, according to what he was seeing in one of his screens, a great percentage of the citizens of Gatlon were marching in the streets carrying floating lanterns, headed towards downtown where the event was being held.

The Council was standing in front of the covered statue. All of them except Blacklight, who had stayed to take care of the Headquarters, and Max could see him from where he was. They gave a speech about Lady Indomitable together, and as they started revealing the statue, Tsunami sang a song that was supposed to be one of Lady Indomitable’s favorite ones, and that Max was too young to recognize (he supposed). In his opinion, it was a cute event, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t utterly confused the moment he saw Adrian taking one step ahead to be the first one to let go of his floating lantern, which was different from the other ones, because his’ was bigger, and it had a big “I”. Besides, people waited a couple of seconds until it was stable above their heads to let go of their own floating lanterns.

It still looked cute to him, but now it looked weird as well. So he got up from his chair, and walked towards the edge, pressing his hands against the glass. He hoped that would be enough to magically catch Evander’s attention, who was, at the moment, using his chair as a swing, as he typed a number in his computer, copying it from his calculator and eating from his salad every now and then. Obviously, Max’s telepathic call wasn’t enough, and he had to knock on the glass a couple of times, loudly. Even then, Uncle Evander didn’t look up in his direction.

But he did hear him, because he did respond.

“It’s not gonna work, Maximus. I’m not getting you out.”

As a side note, Max considered telling him his full name was Maximilian and not Maximus, because that was way before he realized it was a nickname. Nevertheless, he just let it pass, for the simple reason he had better things to ask. That’s why he proceeded to knock again, instead of speaking.

“What is it?”

“I wanna ask you something.”

Evander tried to steady himself in the chair without falling on his back, and once he succeeded, he came closer to the quarantine, with his arms over his hips.

“Why is Adrian doing that?” He asked, just because he wasn’t able to find another way to phrase it, while pointing at the screen behind him; Evander narrowed his eyes following his finger, as if he hadn’t been watching the event himself from a livestream on his phone. A few seconds later, he seemed to realize what he was talking about, and bit his upper lip, before pouting barely a little.

Then, he clicked his tongue.

“Because that’s his mom. And today’s her birthday.”

And it’s not that Max was insensitive enough not to recognize that it was very sad, but at the same time those single words were enough to make the idea he had of his life fall apart. All the things he thought he had already managed to understand felt fake and incorrect, and it was so fast it almost made him feel dizzy.

“She’s not his mom.” He declared.

Evander opened his eyes very widely and, next thing he knew, was that, for some reason, he looked nervous. Which, to say the least, was very…unlike Evander. He was usually super…confident, and, in Dad’s words: “He walks with his back too straight for a person who says some dumb shit every time he opens his mouth”.

At that moment, his back wasn’t straight at all, and he kept on wiping the sweat off his palms in the suit.

“…I mean…she’s not…alive anymore. But… that doesn’t mean that…”

“Noooo. I didn’t mean that.” Max cut him off. “She’s not her mom, because Adrian already has a mom.”

He stopped suddenly. Max could almost see his brain working at full speed, trying to process the data he had just received. Then, he blinked, arching his eyebrow.

“Who’s…who’s his mom?” He asked, getting closer to the crystal, and crouching down to be at Max’s height (Evander was almost too tall for his own sake). “Do Simon or Hugh…?”

“No. I mean she’s not his mom because Simon’s his mom.” Max stated, confident enough to move a mountain with his raw determination and his bare hands, which, needless to say, did nothing but make Evander even more confused.

Not that Max couldn’t understand why.

He was a brand new, redeemed person now.

But back then he wasn’t.

“…Simon is what, you said?”

“Adrian’s mom.” Max reaffirmed.

Still bewildered, Evander gawked. Perhaps he understood where that confusion was coming from but, at the same time, maybe he was too disturbed to ask for additional information. Max didn’t know which one of the two would make him feel more embarrassed, especially taking into account the next thing Evander said:

“That is the weirdest shit somebody has ever said to me, and I’ve talked to the Puppeteer an unhealthy amount of times.”

He wasn’t the one who explained to him the way his own family worked. On the contrary, he immediately told his dads about it, and next time the both of them came to talk to him, they tried to make him understand the concept of homosexual couples.

And they failed.

Miserably.

And he was using that term, because after that talk, Max went through life for a while saying that his ethnicity was Gay, because both of his dads were gay. Over and over again, they tried to correct him, but nothing seemed to work, and Max kept on spreading the information that he was gay (something he didn’t know yet) until Aunt Kasumi decided to intervene and, for his birthday, she got him a children’s book called All in Rainbow, which, according to the information in the first page, was actually a translation from a Latin American book written by two lesbians (one of them non-binary) and illustrated by the same woman who had made the Anarchists’ and the Renegades’ graphic novels and was also a Latina.

That book was something similar to a gay encyclopedia. It was narrated by this girl named Phoenix, because it followed her throughout her school and her daily life, where she came across different people and families. After every short story, there was an informative section explaining everything in regards to the new person’s identity, including their flag, the meaning of said flag, and the explanation of certain terms. Max really enjoyed it, and, in fact, he ended up going through it more than once. When he tried to persuade Adrian into reading it too, he admitted he already had, when he was younger, and proceeded to make a comment about how pretty the name “Phoenix” was.

It was only then that Max was able to understand how his own family worked, and how freaking inept he had sounded when he decided it was a great idea to use it as an ethnicity.

That book was, in fact, the cue for all the grown ups in his life to start buying books for him, which he was grateful for, except for the one that he, ironically enough, had gotten from Uncle Evander. Sure, he appreciated that he had spent money on that, but Max didn’t appreciate the fact that the plot was about a dog that was sent away to a school for dogs but made everyone believe he was in jail so he could escape. The drawings were cute, but he just couldn’t find the moral of the story and he didn’t like that.

His dads, from their part, got him a book about two frogs that, at least to Max, acted as if they were a couple; Aunt Tamaya was the one of the short books without drawings.

As for Aunt Kasumi…she usually brought a lot of educational books; every time she overheard him expressing something that was making him confused, she brought him a book about it, including that time she heard him asking Ruby Tucker “So, are you always bleeding?” completely out of context.

Max supposed that it had a lot to do with the fact that Aunt Kasumi was in charge of Child Services, and she spent a lot of time with children, especially because she liked to volunteer in orphanages, having been in one herself when she was a little girl. She usually moved in prodigy orphanages, for she was one to know the poor conditions they sometimes presented.

And…to say the least, she wasn’t a woman of many words. She was very reserved with everything she did. And, besides, it was none of Max’s business. After all, he was just a kid.

But, in this case, it kind of involved him.

Kind of.

For the simple reason that there were two names in the list of people his age Max had talked to. The first one was Neil (who wasn’t even his age. He was just close to that) and the second one…

The second one involved Aunt Kasumi.

Just like people were able to overhear his conversations through the quarantine, Max was able to overhear the conversations they were having on the outside, especially when he was trying to do it on purpose.

Every time he was too bored, in other words.

Some of the things older people said were confusing, but, over time, Max had learned to store that information, so he could comprehend it better in the future. He didn’t know at what level that was healthy, yet he still did it because, literally, he didn’t have anything better to do.

During extremely busy days, the Council chose to spend the night in the Headquarters, just in case, and while they could sleep in the common room, if Pops was too insistent on wanting to be close to the quarantine, they slept in the hallway.

In Max’s hallway.

Of course, Dad would sleep with him inside the quarantine but, in order to make it feel more like a pajama party, they slept close to the edge of the “room” (if it could be called that way), so close to the Councils’ inflatable beds, they could’ve touched them if there hadn’t been a wall in between.

When they were sleeping in that hallway, there wasn’t a patrol looking over Max, because they were the patrol and, every two hours, they changed turns to stay awake. All of them except Dad, who stayed the entire night with Max. The others often got up and started walking around the quarantine according to their ages. That is, Aunt Tamaya went first, followed by Pops, then Aunt Kasumi, and Uncle Evander at the end. However, since it wasn’t like they were too used to having many hours of sleep, Kasumi and Evander usually got up at the same time and patrolled together.

That night, Max was having trouble sleeping. Dad was hugging him, which made him feel very comfortable, but, at the same time, before he wrapped his arms around him, he had been moving way too much, and that had made Max feel uneasy, because a part of him, though he knew it was highly possible it wasn’t true, was feeding the annoying worm at the back of his brain that told him he was the one making Dad uneasy. That Dad was moving and couldn’t sleep because he didn’t want to be anywhere near him. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Pops. Perhaps he would’ve preferred to be with Adrian, even. Anyone but Max.

Which, again, he knew things…weren’t like that. But that little, nameless, uninvited worm was always telling him that, over and over again, determined to repeat those awful words until they made so much noise they made him cry.

And even then, when he was already crying, the worm ate deeper into his brain and told him to stop because, in the end, who was he crying for anyway?

Who was he crying for, if nobody was here to see or hear him?

That night, of course, he didn’t cry, for the simple reason that…well, he did have somebody who would hear him cry, and maybe comfort him like Aunt Tamaya comforted Neil when he was crying…

But he didn’t want Dad to do that.

Not today.

Not because he were mad at him, but because he feared that, if he did, then Dad would be the one who would get mad.

Besides, that night he got extremely busy trying to overhear the conversation between Kasumi and Evander who, the moment they got up, started talking as they walked, first at a volume so low their voices could’ve been considered murmurs, but then, with every second, the issue started escalating.

And it wasn’t that they were arguing, it was that they weren’t exactly happy with each other, nor did they seem to manage to get to a mutual agreement.

Max felt like that time he was watching a movie with his earphones on, and instead of paying attention to the plot, he kept trying to identify which sounds were dominant in his left ear, and which ones were dominant in his right ear, because Uncle Evander and Aunt Kasumi were walking around the quarantine, and the echoes of their voices were floating right behind them, making it almost impossible for Max to decipher their messages word by word.

At least, until they stopped in front of him. That is, very close to the inflatable mattresses, too. And with just one eye open, he was able to tell Aunt Kasumi wasn’t amused, with her arms so tight across her chest that way, and with Uncle Evander standing more straight than necessary (because, yes, Dad was right about that...sometimes... because Max had read somewhere that tall people had to be really careful with their posture to avoid spine deformities or have less complications when they were older) waving his –as Aunt Tamaya would’ve called them- Hot Cheeto fingers right in front of her face, in a way so aggressive she sometimes had to lean backwards not to get one of her eyes poked out.

“…and it won’t look good for the organization. It won’t look good, Kasumi. You know why?”

“Yes, Vandy. I know why. I already knew before, yet you took the time to explain it to me another seven times. I mean, thank you, I guess, but—“

“If I kept on explaining it to you, it’s because I didn’t…and I don’t know what’s not clicking.”

“What do you mean with what’s not clicking?” And she tilted her head to the side. “…Are you still talking to me?”

“Don’t play dumb, Kasumi. Especially not in front of me, because I know you.”

“Right. But I still don’t get what you’re referring to. What’s not clicking about what, exactly?”

Evander laughed in a way Max would’ve just…understood if she had decided to punch him in the face so he would stop.

“We’re a big organization, Kasumi. People talk.”

“Of course that people talk. I mean, our citizens support our cause and our government system. In fact, statistically, more than half of the population do, but sometimes there are things that… are for their own good but they will refuse to understand and accept them anyway. And that’s normal. We might be the law, but we can’t control how the masses think, you know?”

“For their own good, you say. Beneficial.”

“Exactly.”

“Beneficial for who, if you’d be so kind?” Evander laughed again. “As far as I understand, we’re talking about one single problem, from a single person. It won’t bring anything beneficial, as you call it, for our organization, or for our system…if anything, it will damage it and make us lose credibility.”

“…Why?”

As a response, he started flapping his arms around, as if he were trying to point at something invisible. Or at something that wasn’t really there.

And this time, Aunt Kasumi didn’t try to pretend she was seeing it, and remained silent until Evander realized he would have to make himself understood.

“Because…” He clenched his fists, sighing loudly, almost like he was certain he was right and Aunt Kasumi wasn’t. “Our policy. Remember that? You know, a thing that actually exists and you helped write?”

She didn’t respond.

“Our policy as Renegades, it’s that we shall keep our people safe, and that includes prodigy and non-prodigy citizens. We shall preserve their lives no matter the cost, and create a safe environment where all can coexist and protect each other. That means that no prodigy individual with questionable reasons is to be allowed to cross that gate and disturb the peace or, worse, put somebody’s life at risk.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Yes, you should be, because we wrote it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Evander, please. There’s no need to curse or—“

“…But you know what that means? It means that we can’t just…go against that policy and expect our citizens, our recruits, even, to still take us seriously.”

“Oh, but I’m following that policy because, as you might remember, we also pledged to assist anyone whose life was at risk, and people who, day by day, have to live under very vulnerable circumstances. It is our job to intervene and take them to a safer place, where their quality of life can improve, isn’t it?”

“It is, but that applies for people who aren’t dangerous to society.”

At that point, Max had both his eyes open, and he was seeing the scene more clearly.

In fact, everything was so clear, that he was able to read the confusion in Aunt Kasumi’s expression, even before she said:

“…This is a kid we’re talking about.”

“She is dangerous.”

“She’s not dangerous, Evander. She's a kid. Sure, her behavior has caused her to go bouncing from orphanage to orphanage like a rubber ball but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be helped, that doesn’t mean we should just turn our backs at her, and that doesn’t mean she’s dangerous.”

“You know damn well her behavior’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Well, I am, because that’s the only thing that should concern us at the moment.”

“No, it’s not?”

“It is. Because she’s a kid…and, honestly, Vandy…” Aunt Kasumi sighed. “… I know we were raised thinking life is war, but… the truth is, people are not born evil. Or dangerous, for that matter. Take your time and think about it, and you can talk to me again once you’ve calmed down, because you must be pretty much aware I don't appreciate this tone. Besides, it’s not like this little argument is going to stop me anyway.” She shrugged.

“…after all, I already talked to Hugh.”

“…And what did he say?”

“It’s not my place to tell you that. Ask him.”

Max never knew whether he had taken that suggestion or not but, knowing Evander, he just assumed he hadn’t. And, to be honest, he never asked Dad about it either. He just stood and watched how everything proceeded to go down and chaos unleashed.

Though, he had to admit, unlike what had happened with other “big” events, this one specific chaos was rather discrete. A kind of well-kept secret.

In fact, the only explicit hint that something would happen in the next few days, was the little disturbance caused by Team Frostbite (it was always Team Frostbite. Max had no idea why everyone was so…willing to put up with their…issues so much, and without hesitation) when it was their turn to patrol around the quarantine and Evander came around, holding his notepad, and muttered something to them.

“Whom?!” Genissa Clark, Frostbite, snapped immediately.

Evander frowned and, judging by the way his moustache moved, he also pouted, before turning at Mack Baxter, Aftershock, to start talking to him instead.

“Do you have any idea of what she’s talking about?” He clicked his tongue. “Like…okay, nevermind…”

When Max looked up, he saw the exact moment when Evander realized he was listening to the conversation, so he lowered his tone once again. Yet, Max was still able to see the million ways in which Genissa Clark's face contorted and, in the end, the first second Evander shut his mouth, she declared:

“We’re not available for that. Perhaps that task should be assigned to Team Sketch or Team Peregrine. They’re always lollygagging around, it’s about time they get some real responsibi—“

“That’s a no, then. Alright. Thanks for your cooperation, Team Frostbite. Or, lack of, more likely. Do better next time, okay?”

If Max wanted to be honest with himself, it hadn’t taken him much time to realize he wasn’t fond of any of the members in Team Frostbite. Or Frostbite herself. In fact, he considered her to be almost insufferable, and, again, he couldn’t quite understand why they were allowed to boss everybody around. To a certain extent, they reminded him of the popular kids (who were also bullies) in every movie he had ever watched. They weren’t nice. Not even likeable.

Maybe Max was just very specific on the type of people he liked.

Or maybe he liked everyone and their mom, except Team Frostbite, because he didn’t know any better than that, while at the same time he knew better than liking Team Frostbite.

But he didn’t know better than liking Margaret White, because…well…

She hadn’t done anything particularly awful for him to have an opinion as strong as Uncle Evander’s about her.

She came on a Friday.

Not that she exclusively came to talk to him.

She, in fact, arrived alongside Aunt Kasumi, who was wearing her civilian clothes –High-waisted jeans and a baby blue shirt, damp with sweat because it was hot outside- and kept leaving her car key on every table that came across her, before coming back to it to grab them.

At first, Max wasn’t able to see Margaret very well, mostly because he was distracted with his online classes, and she was taken straight to Dad’s office, along with Adrian’s entire team. And though Max didn’t see much, he was able to catch a glimpse on how Adrian kept on trying to grab her hand, and she insisted on pulling away.

At some point, he had read about that too.

The Renegades accepted recruits from ages 14 and up, talking about patrolling. However, they had a child protection program, where, basically, they assisted orphan prodigy children with behavioral issues or, though only few people liked to admit it, potential to be a part of the organization when they were older. Adrian didn’t like it and, strangely enough, out of everyone, Evander didn’t like it either. Nevertheless, Evander was one to get more aggressive when it came to child recruitment, which, thankfully, wasn’t common at all.

In fact, those cases were so rare, that they referred to them as “exceptions”. After all, children were not allowed into the Trials. As far as Max knew, they weren’t placed in patrol units. On the contrary, they were given small positions in the organization, and their paychecks were directed to their respective savings account, something that Pops was in charge of. However, they could use that money for their personal needs or something they wanted to buy, as the few children recruits resided in orphanages around Gatlon and went back there after their shift was over. Max supposed that sometimes their caretakers refused to buy them something because it wasn’t good for their health and it must be very satisfying to tell them it was their money (That’s what Adrian always did when Dad refused to buy something for him).

(That, or he went and asked Pops for that same thing).

Usually, they could have cash withdrawals just by presenting their Renegade Recruit ID because, obviously, they didn’t have an official ID yet.

And not only that. The children recruits were assigned a patrol unit with older members to look after them, or help them with anything they needed. Taking into account the conversation he had overheard, he supposed that duty had fallen on Adrian’s team (A theory that was later confirmed to be true by Adrian himself).

They were never left unsupervised, just like Max.

The day Margaret arrived, for a couple of minutes, maybe hours, Max was submerged in his own little world, and in the assignment his last teacher had told him to do. It was just him, his colored pencils, his paper sheets, his notes, his head, his hands, and the miniature planet Earth that his quarantine supposed, against the real world that he had never stepped on.

But every now and then, a little piece of the unknown, mysterious real world came running to his encounter and talked to him, sometimes in the most sudden, unsolicited way.

Sometimes it was Dad opening the door without calling. Sometimes it was Adrian pressing a new drawing against the crystal. Sometimes it was Pops, making a little “Psst” sound to get his attention.

Sometimes it was three little knocks, and the girl that was producing them with her knuckles.

Back then, Margaret’s hair was longer, to the point where she could tie it in a high ponytail, decorated with a blue bow, which combined with his orphanage uniform: A white polo, with the institution’s symbol by the right side of her chest, beneath a cobalt blue skirt with suspenders, long white socks and black scholar shoes.

He saw her and recognized she was real the first time, but Max still gave himself a couple of seconds to grasp the fact that she was really there.

Well, not there-there.

That she was there, as in, through the glass.

And she was calling him, even if she wasn’t saying anything. In fact, she was just there, eating from a chocolate bar with puffed rice. Her free hand was still over the glass.

And she was waiting.

So, he figured he didn’t want to keep her waiting anymore, and leaving his task and his tools behind, Max walked in her direction. And like it always happened, he stopped right before bumping his forehead against the hard, translucent surface.

Margaret took another bite from her chocolate, with an arched eyebrow, but she said nothing. From afar, Max hadn’t been able to really appreciate her features, but now that he was closer, he realized she was taller than him; her small, brown eyes were making her lashes look bigger; her black hair looked thicker and he was able to conclude that her skin tone was more or less like Pops’, maybe a little darker. She had a mark over her cheek, and at first Max thought it was a mole or a birthmark…until, of course, he realized that moles weren’t (or, at least, shouldn’t be) purple, and realized it was a bruise.

He didn’t ask her about it. Adrian had once told him that there were people who might not want to talk about their bruises or open wounds, not because the stories behind them were painful to tell, but because they were too embarrassing and telling embarrassing stories was an inconvenience.

“…well… now that I think about it…” He said right after. “…That’s not it. No. Not really. Sometimes your wounds’ backstories are painful. Or sometimes…you just want to keep them a secret, you know? And secrets are…sort of important.”

He believed every word.

Hence why, instead of saying something too nosy about that bruise, a little slowly at first, Max started lifting his hand up, until he reached the spot where Margaret’s was, and pressed his palm there. When she stared at his palm in confusion, Max clarified:

“Hugh five. You know?" Max giggled a little." As in… the Captain? Hugh? ...No?"

She didn’t laugh. And that was odd because Adrian would’ve.

Margaret wasn’t Adrian, sadly. And, it seemed to be, she hadn’t had an older sibling to tell her that some things just…weren’t adequate as icebreakers to start a conversation. Because, like Adrian had said, there were certain things other people might not want to talk about.

“Are you sick?” She directly asked.

Max was still “pressing” his hand against hers.

Gulping hard, he felt his throat boiling hot, almost as if it were growing blisters.

“No.” He said in a hoarse voice. “Why?”

Not pulling away either, Margaret said:

“The other day, Sister Malinda brought a very tiny baby into the orphanage. They were so small they had to take them to the medical wing.” She took another bite from her chocolate, and kept on speaking with her mouth full. “I sneaked out of my room to see them, and they were inside this little glass box that helped keeping them alive. Sister Tam told me so.”

Max kept quiet for a while. He would’ve been lying if he said he didn’t have a little curiosity about the name, but Margaret solved everything that had to be solved even if he didn’t ask her to.

“Sister Tam was named after Thunderbird. She’s younger than the other nuns.”

He guessed so.

Aunt Tamaya’s real name had been revealed to the general public on the 13th year into the Age of Anarchy, when she reappeared after being away for months thanks to an accident that involved Queen Bee and a cliff or something like that (Max couldn’t quite understand it, and Aunt Tamaya couldn’t remember much about it either. If she did, then she just didn’t desire to talk about it). It wasn’t a fun anecdote or anything like that but, according to his dads, the name Tamaya topped the lists for the most female-assigned names for at least a year, and the same thing happened in the 20th year into the Age of Anarchy...however, by the time she was buried, the world didn’t know Lady Indomitable’s real name, and for an entire month, people used Regina instead of Georgia. When Max asked why, Dad answered that, when attending public events, Lady Indomitable used to wear a pair of shiny golden R-shaped earrings that caused everybody in Gatlon to develop mass hysteria and made themselves believe that those Rs meant Regina, when in reality, according to Lady Indomitable herself, one of them meant “Rawles”, and the other “Renegade”. In fact, Oscar Silva (Smokescreen, one of the members of Adrian’s team) had once said that one of his cousins, who lived in Mexico, had been named Renata Regina (Though nobody knew what the heck that first name was, and Oscar had a really peculiar way to pronounce Regina) because she was born a few days after Lady Indomitable’s decease.

“I knew that.” Max lied.

“Sure, buddy. I bet you did.” Margaret chuckled. And there, Max realized she thought she was too clever.

Which, he didn’t doubt she was. He wasn’t in the position to state that. At least, not yet.

But what he was in the position to state, was that, if she thought herself to be clever, then it was his opportunity to think of himself as clever too. After all, he had been reading his whole life because he didn’t have anything else to do.

If Margaret was clever, then so was he.

“You’re talking about an incubator.” He said.

Margaret looked up out of a sudden (Max hoped she hadn’t gotten dizzy). He could still see the chocolate, that at this point should’ve been mush, stored in the inside of her right cheek.

“Uh?” She asked, struggling to keep her mouth closed.

Max gulped, and tapped the surface with his fingers.

“The thing where they put the little baby. It’s called an incubator. That’s where they put pre-term babies, because they’re not ready to survive outside of their mother’s womb. Sometimes their lungs don’t work on their own, sometimes their hearts are too fast or too slow…”

“You look too old to be a baby.” She observed. “Are your powers something related to that? Like, are you a baby who doesn’t look like a baby?”

For a second, Max thought about quoting Evander that time he had boldly stated that Simon was Adrian’s mom, but he didn’t because he wasn’t in the mood to curse.

“…No. First, this is not an incubator. And second, I’m a kid.” He answered. “I’m not a baby.”

“Then why are you here?”

The short answer was that, honestly, that was none of her business. And the even shorter answer, was:

“I can’t tell you. It’s a secret. And secrets are sort of important.”

“A secret.” She repeated, as if tasting the word. “…You don’t look like you want to be here. Are you allowed to come out?”

The short answer was still that it was none of her business. But, if he wanted to be honest, for some reason, he didn’t want to give that answer. Because, to be fair, she would find out on her own sooner or later. Because, yes, people talked, and while his dads were kind of secretive about him, everyone in the headquarters knew him. Her being clueless was just a temporary event that would vanish into thin air in a blink.

And, for some reason, he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.

Maybe tell her something that wasn’t real. Maybe… tell her something that wasn’t necessarily true but that he wanted it to be. Maybe something that was more interesting than what he was, in reality; maybe something that would make the worm in his brain go away for two weeks.

"I can't get out." He finally decided. "Because this glass is infrangible."

Then, he knocked on it three times.

"See?"

Margaret tilted her hair to the side, looking like a cat.

"What does that word mean?"

And dumb as it sounded, Max felt a twinge in his stomach along with a violent wave of pride. Because, even if it was hard for him to admit it, he was hoping she would ask that.

He wanted her to ask that.

"It means you can't break it."

Margaret's eyes seemed bigger. But just as she was separating her lips to speak, somebody behind her cleared their throat.

That's when Max spotted Aunt Kasumi leaned against a wall with her arms crossed. When Margaret looked over her shoulder, she found her there too. But while Max waved at her, Margaret remained inexpressive.

"You're very far from the restroom, Maggie." Kasumi said, in a serious tone. Afterwards, she massaged her temples.

"Please, darling. Just… help me here, okay? We have to go back to the office."

And she didn't seem mad, but rather disappointed.

When it came to Aunt Kasumi, that was enough. Max knew that, and Margaret knew that too. That's why they both removed their hands from the glass, and Margaret started going away.

However, before she was too far, Max asked:

"Why are you here?"

And Margaret turned around, smiling.

"If you're not telling me, I'm not telling you." She sentenced. Then, she proceeded to imitate his voice as she said:

"It's a secret."

And for a while, obviously, it remained that way. A secret. But it wasn't long before they both knew everything they needed to know.

Margaret was integrated into the janitorial team, but, for a while, people talked about her and her powers, and Max couldn’t help but remember what Dad had told him in the bathtub, and the conversation between Evander and Kasumi.

Yet, more than scared, Max felt… something he didn't know what it was. In fact, he wasn't scared of her. More likely, a part of him felt that he knew what it was like to be her, because maybe they weren't that different after all.

People were scared of them both.

But he wasn't scared of her. No, not really.

He hoped she wasn’t scared of him either.

Maybe they could've been very good friends, even through the infrangible glass that kept him from getting pointed at, frowned upon or killed.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #Dawnie writes #renegades ship week #margaret white #magpie #max everthart-westwood #the bandit

21 notes · View notes

kalle-and-lita · 3 years

Text

My half of the art trade with @tagedeszorns featuring their OC Doriel. I can't even begin to tell you how much of a joy it was to work with the mun and their muse!

Lita cast a furtive glance down the long halls of the palace. It was so quiet she could hear the beat of her heart thunder in her ears. Perhaps it was because she was leaving work so close to curfew. Only the foolish would dare to walk the empty streets lest they incur the wrath of the Night Haunter.

Maybe it was the fear of her mistress, whose rage was easily incited these days. Several members of the staff had already gone missing. Lita wasn't fool enough to believe they had just left.

Or perhaps, her nervousness was due to the large platter of food she clutched to. Taking food, even uneaten, was akin to stealing from the barons. If she was caught she'd be killed without a second thought.

But she was on a mission, and she would not be deterred. So Lita steeled her nerves and made her escape as quiet as she could. Every step was carefully planned, every corner scrutinized until she was sure she was safe and alone. She didn't breathe easy until she passed through the servants entrance and out onto the streets.

There was the faintest drizzle pouring from the sky. A cacophony of lights twinkled in the perpetual dark, reflecting off dirty glass windows and pools of stagnant water in the broken streets. Above the familiar hum of the city Lita noted the blessed silence. No screaming, no gunfire. Orderly silence since the whispers had begun.

Whispers of a silent stalker in the night. A savior to the weak who suffered beneath the heel of the barons and their crime lords. Night Haunter they called him, and his was a name revered with fear and awe. Rumors persisted of his speed, his ferocity. While she had not seen his handiwork for herself, Lita knew the tales of the flayed criminals he left out as warning. To take caution because if you caught his gaze there would be no one to save you from him.

Lita's reverie was broken by the sound of shoes scuffing cobblestone. Just like the nights before they came out of the shadows like pale little spirits. Four in total with the youngest looking no older than five or six. The oldest approached first, crossing the street once he was sure they were all alone. He was strange for a Nostromon; his hair was the color of a fire blazing away in the adamantium furnaces. Though he still possessed the pallid complexion and the hardened, steel black gaze of his kin.

"Hello," Lita smiled, "I'm glad you boys are safe. I brought the good stuff from the kitchen."

The redhead eyed her sharply, a frown etched into his features. The smaller shadows of his gang pressed at his back threateningly,

"Ah," Lita warned, waving a scolding finger at them, "Unless you want to go back to eating garbage and refuse I suggest you play nice."

"Fuck off." The redhead snapped over his shoulder. His mates backed off, though they still possessed a hungry look in their eyes. Sure that they weren't going to cause trouble, the young boy turned back to her, "What you want for it?"

"We have this conversation every time." She sighed, she popped the lid off one of the bowls of food. A hearty, and savoury aroma filled the air. If the boys looked hungry before they were absolutely ravenous now. "I don't want anything more than the satisfaction of you boys being well fed."

The redhead shot her a venomous glare, "I still say it's bullshit. Ain't nobody that nice."

"So you don't want the food then?" She teased, the younger kids hissed at their leader,

"Shut up, Doriel, before you ruin it!" One hissed. The young boy, Doriel, scowled right back,

"I ain't ruining shit! Look, bitch, just hand over the food and we'll get out of your hair."

Lita chuckled but pointedly ignored Doriel's rather colorful language. The large bowl of stew was all but yanked from her hands and she happily watched as the children ate. More than once the young redheaded boy thumped one of his mates on the shoulder, a silent admonishment for taking more than a fair share.

And they scampered off just as quick as they came with Doriel offering a cursory glance back at her. She nodded a farewell and tossed the now empty bowl, all too eager to navigate the eerie streets of the upper districts. Her feet pounded against hard stone as she ran, a desperate bid to get to the shops before curfew descended upon her.

Luck was not completely on her side tonight, however. Lita cringed as the shop door slammed shut behind her and locked tight. Lights flickered off, leaving her alone on the dark sidewalk. Her gaze flickered to the shadowy corners around her, their long tendrils closing in on her.

She didn't make it a habit to be out past curfew. A nervous tension settled in her belly as she set off for home. Her footsteps echoed loudly, bouncing off the high buildings ominously. Each passing minute was like agony, the eerie silence fraying at her nerves until there was a burning itch between her shoulder blades.

Lita tensed at the feeling.

She was no stranger to this sensation of being watched. Years of service to the barons, and even her years on the streets, had refined her sense of awareness. All the better to know when to run or hide.

But this was not the first night she felt the piercing gaze of the unknown stalker's eyes. For weeks she walked home with the proverbial dagger aimed at her back, ever nervous for an attack that had yet to come.

Lita turned a sharp corner in an effort to evade her stalker. A stupid idea to turn into the pitch black of the alleyway, but she knew it to be a shortcut home and she was desperate. Her heart thundered away in her ears even as her footsteps echoed on the walls. Save for the drizzling of the rain there was nary a sound above the hum of quiet.

Then, just behind her, she heard something hit the ground. If she hadn't been listening so keenly she wouldn't have heard it. Lita froze with a gasp, a chill ran down her spine and the burn in her shoulder blades grew hot. There was a presence at her back, she could feel its hot breath on her neck.

Against her better judgement she turned to look, oh so slowly spinning on her heels. She came face to face with a monstrously large Nostromon man, the pitch black of his eyes drawing her in. His thin strands of black hair stuck to his face, and fell over his shoulders as he sat nearly hunched over her. Lita blinked dumbly, mouth agape in terror.

All at once her sense of self preservation kicked in as a smile crossed his face. A set of wicked sharp teeth gleamed at her and the fear in her gut rose well past the point of control.

So Lita did what any normal person would do and panicked. And in her panic she did the very first thing that sprang to mind, and she threw her grocery bags at him. She didn't bother to stick around to see his reaction. She was far too interested in running as fast her poor legs could carry her.

And she didn't stop running until she was safely back in her apartment. The keys clattered to the floor and her back hit the door. Her lungs burned and her legs gave out, and Lita hit the ground with a hard thud while her mind tried to wrap around what just happened.

He'd been so quiet. That thought scared her more than she cared to admit. How was it possible that someone so large could be so silent?! And she was fairly certain that the only reason she'd known he was there was because he let her see him.

Just who was he? Why was he following her?

Cold realization hit her hard as she came down from her adrenal high. The whispered tales of the few who'd seen the Night Haunter and lived. Of the man draped in shadow and blood, larger than life who took no qualms in spilling the blood of the guilty.

"Oh gods," Lita's hands flew to her mouth, "Oh gods!"

And she had just hit him.

In the face.

With her grocery bags!

She sprang to her feet and ran to check her windows, futile as it seemed. If the Night Haunter wanted to get to her windows were not going to stop him. For the better part of an hour she paced the confines of her apartment, awaiting retribution despite her own perceived innocence. Fixated on the fact that she had thrown her food at the Night Haunter in blind panic.

Lita resented the fact that if she was going to die, she was going to do so hungry.

The burn eventually came back. Fear turned to trepidation as she paused at her living room window. The balcony was empty, wet with the rain. She took a few deep breaths before she opened the sliding glass door. Before she could second guess herself she leaned onto the railing and took another deep breath.

"I'm sorry!" She shouted into the night. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. "I swear I didn't know it was you. I wouldn't have hit you if I had. I'm so sorry!"

A long moment of silence passed until she picked up the sound of something dragging on the roof behind her. She turned her gaze up to find the Night Haunter casually perched on the roof edge, black eyes boring right into her skull. She averted her gaze in embarrassment.

"I am so, so sorry." She repeated, "I wasn't expecting to be followed, and you appearing out of nowhere startled me, and I panicked..."

She was bumbling like an idiot, trapped between him and the railing. But his silence was making her nervous. Lita felt the hot flush warm her face.

Then, something hit the ground. Lita jumped then stooped over to find her grocery bag, albeit missing some of its contents but still intact. She looked up, still under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Uhhm," she stuttered, awkwardly collecting her bag and shuffling towards the door, "Thank you."

He blinked at her, expression neutral even as he watched her slip inside and close the door.

The itch in her shoulder blades didn't cease as she put away her groceries and started dinner. She tried to ignore it for the most part, though she couldn't help but wonder why he was sticking around. Surely there were more interesting things to do than watch her?

She found her way back to the balcony door eventually, after setting her stew to a simmer. The Night Haunter now perched on the railing so he could peer in. She slid open the door to poke her head out.

"Hi." Lita muttered, he blinked again and let the awkward silence stretch out, "Uh, I made food. Did you want some?"

No answer save for his endless staring. Lita swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped back,

"I'll, uh, leave the door open for you then."

She retreated back to the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. The minutes passed as she slowly stirred the stew, lost in the rhythmic motions. That was until she felt a presence hunched over her shoulder. Lita dared not look up, instead she simply muttered under her breath,

"I think I need to get you a bell."

#art trade #warhammer 30k #konrad curze #lita #warhammer40k #night lord #Doriel #my writing #night haunter

14 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

Hot Blood [1]

Warnings: non-consent sex

This is dark! (mob) skinny Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Synopsis: Steve Rogers is on the rise in the New York underground as you’re trying to keep your own place there.

Note: This will only be two parts because I couldn’t fit it into a oneshot. Yes, I took liberties in terms of not making Steve brittle as a twig so forgive me for that. Also this is back in the 1940s, so keep that in mind. :) Otherwise, I love writing my skinny boy and hope you like it too.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You wanna prove you're the better man You wanna reach for the things that nobody can

🌆

You checked your watch as you strode down the sidewalk. You felt the snugness of the bundle just under your jacket as you pulled your hat lower over your eyes. At the right angle, you seemed a man about his business. A closer look and you were nothing but a woman in pinstripe trousers.

Another day, another drop. You were tiring of the tawdry tasks but the reality of your position, of your sex, was inevitable. The men were back from the war and the women were expected to return to their kitchens. Well, most of them.

It was easier in the days before victory. When you were the one sending others on your tasks. But Vic had survived his campaign in Italy and he was back with a vengeance, and few scars. The only thing which kept him from tossing you entirely was that you’d kept his organization afloat in his absence. You’d even thrown the feds off his trail and onto another’s.

Even so, life wasn’t what it was. You had to take orders, had to swallow your pride. Well, it was better than living as some bastard’s wife; better than a secretary in a tight skirt. You checked the time again and looked ahead to the brick building with the rusted horseshoe over its door.

You neared and leaned against the bricks. You turned to face the street and watched pedestrians pass. You knocked with your elbow. Two knocks, a pause, then three more. You waited and listened. The door shifted and you spun quickly as you muttered “iodine” and the code word saw you past the man on the other side.

And yet, another change. The warehouse was empty. You looked to the man who’d answered the door. It wasn’t the usual fellow. You frowned and your hand went to your waist and felt the wooden inlay of your pistol.

“Wouldn’t do that,” The man warned. “Boss is on his way. He doesn’t care for corpses. Too much clean up.”

“Boss?” You kept your hand poised but didn’t draw. “And who exactly is your boss?”

“People fall for that?” He ignored your question as he pointed to your jacket.

“Fall for what?”

“You don’t exactly fill out a three-piece,” He reached into your pocket and you gripped your gun. He pulled out a silver cigarette case and popped it open. “Well, you know…” He gestured to his shoulder, “In some ways.”

You scoffed and shook your head as he offered you a smoke. He shrugged and put one between his lips.

“You didn’t tell me who your boss was,” You said as he struck a match and lit the cigarette.

“Vic didn’t tell you?” He asked. “Heli don’t run Brooklyn anymore.”

“He mentioned there was trouble but there always is in Brooklyn,” You tilted your head and ran your finger along your pistol handle.

He chuckled and took a drag.

“Bucky,” He held out his hand. “Boss will be here soon.”

You shook his hand and retreated, pacing two steps back and forth as you waited.

“This isn’t how it goes. I drop the money and go.” You stopped. “Never more than five minutes.”

“You got somewhere to be?” He asked. “You must be popular with the boys. Hell, war was so long, they’d fuck a hole in the wall.”

“I usually tell em to use the wall,” You countered. “You’re boss better show in the next five minutes or--”

The back door of the warehouse opened and shut suddenly. You turned as a shadow fluttered in the small slats of light which peeked in through the high windows.

“Kid took a wrong turn,” The voice sounded as footsteps cut through the silence. “You get the money.”

“Drop’s right here,” Bucky said as he nodded to you.

Your mouth fell open as you saw the man who appeared before you. Short, slender; skinny, actually. Even his tailored suit added little to his figure and his chin seemed even sharper in contrast to the angles of his hat. His blue eyes met yours and he removed the hat.

“Miss,” He seemed as surprised as you felt.

You laughed. You didn’t mean to. You covered your mouth before you could guffaw and looked at Bucky.

“That the new boss man?” You asked.

“Steve Rogers,” The skinny man said tersely. “And yes, I’m the boss man so you talk to me, not him.”

“Course,” You said coolly. “Vic wants a single load through Brooklyn.” You carefully reached into your jacket and dislodged the bundle of money from the waist of your pants. “Tomorrow, clearance till noon.”

He watched you and then his eyes flicked to the money. Usually, they saw the green first.

“Your husband let you run around playing these games?” He asked.

“We know this isn’t a game,” You said. “And, if I did have a husband, he couldn’t keep me from my business.”

He chuckled.

“Sorry, I’m just, a little amused. I expected a man.” He said.

“Me, too,” You tossed the money at his feet. “But I guess they’re all busy doing the real work.”

His smile fell. He toed the money but didn’t take it.

“You gonna wear the pants, you gonna be treated like what you’re pretending to be,” He beckoned Bucky forward. “Cause I don’t see a lady.”

“No, you don’t,” You said defiantly as Bucky came closer.

Steve nodded and Bucky bent to grab the money. You held Steve’s gaze, the anger obvious in their glint as his narrow jaw ticked.

“Tell Vic he’s got til noon. Sharp.” He said. “Bucky, see her out.”

He put his hat back on and turned away. Bucky waved you away and you followed him back to the door. His hand rested on the metal handle and he paused.

“Put the torch to this place,” He said. “Next drop will be on our ground.”

“Sure,” You said and he pushed down.

“Oh,” Bucky stopped as he opened the door just a sliver. “I’m not much for advice but work on the lip. He won’t put up with that for long.”

“Not my boss,” You uttered. “He got his money.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shook his head and opened the door.

You stepped out into the sunlight and strode away. You’d have a word with Vic. You’d think he’d have enough sense to mention a change in personnel but he hadn’t had much sense since he returned.

🌆

You sat along the bar as voices buzzed in the late morning din. The old pub which had glowed during Prohibition had grown darker over the years. With rationing, it had become lifeless, barely revived in the post-war jubilance. It didn’t matter much; it had never been meant for just booze, merely a cover for more illicit trades.

As usual, Vic was in his office. He wasn’t the same talkative man he had been, though his temper had worsened. When he wanted to be heard, he made sure of it. His propensity for violence had turned to an indifference to violence. There was no barrier left between him and blood. His hair trigger made him vulnerable; it made you all vulnerable.

The bar door shook and you looked over. Several bangs before the latch busted and Donny burst in with Richie hanging from his shoulder. He dragged the bleeding man inside and dropped him onto the floor as he fell to his knees. You rose and quickly shut the door. No one used that door during the day.

“Get rags,” Arnold called and rushed behind the bar.

Donny’s arm was bleeding as Richie gripped his side, his hands red and wet. Arnold tossed you a rag and you bent beside Richie. You took his hand and pressed the rag between it and his side. You applied pressure as Donny tied up his arm with his belt.

“What fuck happened?” You ask as you leaned on Richie and tried to stem the flow.

Arnold ran out calling for Pauly. He’d been a medic during the war but tended to drink away whatever use he had left to the organization. He was likely sleeping off last night in one of the stinky rooms above that were rented out by the hour.

“Where’s the cargo?” Vic asked as he appeared in the broad archway which parted the barroom from the kitchen and his office.

“Christ, he’s bleeding out, Vic,” You hissed as Donny handed you another cloth and grabbed another for his arm.

“We got hit.” Donny leaned heavily on a stool. “It’s gone.”

“What the fuck?” Vic swore. “Who--”

“Rogers,” Richie gasped and you scrambled to keep the crimson from leaking past your fingers. “He said…”

“Take was short.” Donny finished. “Five shy.”

“Five shy. No, I gave him the right drop,” You insisted.

Arnold brushed by Vic and Pauly ambled in beside him. The former dropped the small chest of bandages and the like beside Richie as the latter came around to you and yawned as he knelt. He casually waved you away and took the rags from you. He peeked under them and pressed down.

“Got a lighter?” He asked. “Get me some tweezers.”

You held up your bloody hands and Arnold got down to search through the box ox of odds and ends.

“New boss, new prices,” Donny uttered. “S’what they said before they…” He looked at Richie and blanched.

“God fucking dammit, I new that little rat was up to no good,” Vic punched his palm. “Had the gall to come in here and put an offer down on this shit hole like he can buy what I built for a couple bills.”

“What?” You reeled as you tried to wipe clean your hands. “He made you an offer?”

“He’s a goddamn upstart,” He snarled. “I seen his kind back before the war, when the Depression had us scraping trash cans for dinner. He’d sell his own mother. Probably has.”

“How can he-- Heli didn’t have that much going on.” You argued.

“The twerp spent a couple years up in Chicago before he decided to come home and make his stake,” Vic said. “Too skinny to serve so he ran wild over there. Now he’s got a gun and some money and he thinks he can just take the whole city.”

“Hold him down!” Pauly yelled and you looked over as he was digging the tweezers into Richie’s side. The wail which rose was sickening.

“Vic, you didn’t even tell me he’d taken over,” You snarled. “Now I double counted that take but you’re the one who arranged it. He said fifteen not twenty, right?”

“I told him I wouldn’t give him any more than I did Heli.” He sneered.

“And?” You urged.

“He said we’d see. And I never heard nothing else.” He growled.

“You didn’t hear anything or you just made an assumption?”

“I handled worse over in Italy,” He grumbled. “Little twit doesn’t scare me.”

“It’s not just him,” You huffed.

It was so much easier when he was gone. You and Arnold had been a great team. He was too old to serve and he was wise; pragmatic. Don’t play big, play smart.

“Another word,” Vic warned. “I’m tired of the fucking mouth on you. Men go away for a couple years and all you bitches learned to bark.”

“If we hadn’t, you’d have nothing to come back to,” You retorted. “And I learned more than how to bark.”

“You think you know it all. You run around in your suits and play gangster, little girl.” He snarled. “I saw men holding their insides; I ran into a haze of bullets and you did what? Gave away your stockings and baked cakes without sugar.”

“You got a man holding his insides right here,” You snapped. “I should’ve let Crane have this place. I drove that snake out on my own. Me. So don’t you call me little girl.”

A knock interrupted him as his face turned red. The front door had fallen open as a figure leaned in the doorway. So slim it could only be one person. You reached for your gun along with Vic and Donny. The other men continued their struggle on the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Rogers?” Vic pulled the hammer back on his gun.

“Wow,” Steve stopped a few feet inside and several men, including Bucky, entered behind him, guns in hand. “I’m not here for a fight, if I can help it. I’m here for the rest of my take.”

“You already shot my men. I don’t owe you shit.” Vic hissed.

Steve chuckled and put his hands on his hips. He looked to the floor, the blood, the whimpers, then to you. He took his hat off and nodded in your direction.

“But I see they’re still alive.” Steve said. “And I got your cargo. More than willing to hand it over so long as I get my dues.”

“Maybe it wasn’t that skinny fucking ass that kept out of the war; maybe it was that peanut brain,” Vic said.

“I’m all for negotiating,” Steve said coolly. “But I’m gonna need you to calm down, Victor.”

“Calm down. I want my goods.” He insisted. “And my money back.”

“I don’t often give warnings,” Steve’s voice was even and quiet. Scarily calm. “But I will allow you one. I will finish what my men started and then I will burn this place with your bodies inside of it. Then I will hunt down every man who ever tied himself to your limping horse and put them next to you in the ashes.”

“Bull,” Vic scoffed.

“Jeffrey, by the bridge,” Steve said. “Friendly guy. Knows a lot about the city. Gave me an interesting little map. Looks like safe houses… in your neighbourhood. I don’t need to barter with you, Victor, but I am, because I can be nice. I prefer it over having to get mean.”

“Jeffrey,” Vic shook his head. “That shit.”

“Oh yes, if it wasn’t for his ties out west, I’d already have done him in myself but… he has his uses.”

Silence but for Richie groans and the squelch of flesh and blood. You glanced between the two men. Vic looked tired. You realised he was halfway drunk.

“How long? For the five I owe you?” He slowly lowered his gun.

“How long?” Steve smirked. “I’m not leaving without it.”

“Don’t keep my safe here. That’d be too obvious.” Vic said.

“No? Or maybe… you don’t got it?” Steve challenged. “Besides, I can’t trust you to send anyone for it because I can’t have them returning with more than the bills, can I?”

Victor was quiet and you glanced back at him. He looked lost. It was a look which had become common for him. As if he was far away.

“But…” Steve said. “There is value beyond paper.”

“Take a cut,” You intoned as Vic remained speechless. “That would more than even the debt.”

“And have to sell it myself? No.” He said. “But I do see something that I want.”

Steve’s heels tapped on the old floorboards and he stopped before you. You stared at him then looked around. You lifted a brow as you looked back to him. He touched your gun and you lowered it. You wanted to raise it again but Richie’s cries tugged at your ears. He took the pistol.

“I’ll take her,” He touched the lapel of your jacket.

“What? No, that’s not--”

“Fine,” Vic agreed a little too quickly. “All yours. But I’ll let you know, she’s a mouthy one.”

“Oh, I know,” Steve winked at you. “But you won’t get anywhere if you’re not bold.”

“You can’t--”

“I can,” Steve leaned in as he lowered his voice. “Because if you leave this bar without me, you won’t get far. I put the word out and you’re dead before nightfall…” He straightened your jacket. “But I prefer you living.”

He drew back and walked back to his men.

“Truck’s out front. All is accounted for. Ledger’s are balanced.” He said. “For now.”

You were jolted forward as Bucky grabbed your arm. You hadn’t seen him approach and he easily dragged you along as Steve left with his men in tow. You were numb but angry. You struggled until Bucky had your arm twisted behind your back.

“I told you,” He said. “He doesn’t like the back talk.”

🌆

You were silent as you peered through the windshield then glanced at the man in the driver’s seat. Bucky had wrestled you into the car himself but it had taken the flash of a muzzle to get you to stay.

Steve sat beside you in the back of the long car. He still had your pistol in hand and you watched as he emptied the bullets and dropped them in his pocket. He turned the gun over in his hand and ran his fingertip along the wood inlay carved with intricate grooves.

“This is a nice piece,” He said.

He checked the chamber one last time and handed it back to you. You holstered the pistol and leaned into the door as you looked out onto the streets. The buildings were strangely familiar.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“You talking to me?” Steve countered. You turned to him and arched a brow. “Because when you are talking to me, you need to look at me, doll.”

“My name isn’t doll,” You crossed your arms. “This isn’t Brooklyn.”

“We’ll get to that,” He said. “You should be more than familiar with these slums.”

You squinted and shook your head.

“How did you--”

“I got eyes across the city and a woman like you sticks out,” He said. “Now, I’d like to forget our first meeting and start off on a better note.”

“Yeah? Do you usually buy people like race horses.” You scoffed.

“You’re a fine mare,” He grinned. “But that mouth does you a disservice.”

“So, what exactly do you want? You want me to say you’re a big man? Tell you you’re the boss?” You taunted. “I wonder how that ego fits in that body.”

“One thing at a time, doll,” He said.

“It’s not ‘doll’,” You growled.

He chuckled and propped his elbow up on the door.

“My eyes have ears. They’ve told me a lot about you.” He said. “Must be hard with all the men back in town. I dare say, you might have been rooting for the other side.”

“Oh?” Your nostrils flared at the implication. “You running with those double-dealing bastards down in Chicago and you’re accusing me of sedition.”

“Chicago was a stepping stone,” He waved you off. “And a valuable ally. This world’s a whole lot bigger than five boroughs.”

The car stopped and you looked past Steve. Your building stood just outside his window and you sighed.

“No doubt bigger than you,” You rolled your eyes. “I’m not dumb enough to think you’re just giving me a ride home…”

“We got ten minutes,” He checked his watch as he opened his door. “Grab what you need. I got a schedule to keep.”

He got out and you pushed open your own door. You rounded the front of the car and peered down the sidewalk. You could run. The thought was tempting, but if Steve could figure out where you lived in less than a day, he could likely suss you out just as easily.

You followed him up the cracked walk of the building and he opened the grated door for you. You shot him a look before you stepped through. You fished around for your keys and unlocked the second metal door. He trailed you up the narrow staircase and you came to your door among the row of cramped apartments.

You entered with him behind you. His footsteps were light and barely disturbed the creaky floorboards. He closed the door swiftly as you glanced around your tiny home. There wasn’t much to it but it was yours.

He brushed past you and went to the small kitchen which was barely more than a sink and stove. He pulled open the drawers one at a time and shuffled through them.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

He held up a box of bullets and shook them.

“Grab some clothes,” He said as he continued his search. “And anything else you need.”

You let out a breath and rounded the threadbare sofa. You went to the small closet on the other side of the apartment and slid open the accordion door. Inside hung jackets in varying tones of monochrome and pants to match. Dress shirts and vests filled out the rest of the assortment. You sensed movement behind you as you reached for a hanger.

“That’s all you got?” He asked as he came up beside you and tutted.

You looked over at him as he slid the hangers from side to side and examined your clothes.

“No, no, this won’t do,” He said.

“What are you--”

“This,” He tugged on your sleeve. “Is doing you no favours. Not to worry, I’ll send for some nice skirts, a couple dresses--”

“No,” You said pointedly. “No, I won’t--”

“You’re not getting this, are you?” He sneered. “I don’t need some pussycat in a suit, I got more men than I can count.” You stared at him as foreboding roiled in your stomach. “What I need is a gal on my arm,” He reached out and touched your cheeks. “With a pretty smile,” His fingers crept down your neck and rested on your shoulders, “In a pretty little number.”

You grabbed his wrists and tried to shove him away. Despite his slim figure, he was stronger than you expected. He twisted his arms around and grabbed your wrists. He drew you close.

“If you were a man, you wouldn’t have left that warehouse,” He growled. “So consider yourself lucky…” His eyes drifted down. “The walk gives you away. Your hips…” He tilted his head from side to side. “The ass…”

“Get off of me,” You hissed and pulled away. He released you and you nearly stumbled.

“Don’t bother with the clothes,” He sighed. “But grab whatever else you need; hairbrush, soap… I guess you wouldn’t have lipstick, would you?”

“You really that hard-up for a girl?” You laughed dryly.

He smiled and licked his lips. “Women aren’t as complicated as they pretend to be. Not if you got your pockets full. So no, not hard-up for a girl… just you, doll.”

“Not doll,” You huffed and spun away from him. His low laughter made your lip curl.

“Five minutes,” He warned.

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve x reader #mafia!steve rogers #mafia au #mafia steve rogers #au #fic #miniseries #series #hot blood #mcu #marvel #captain america #dark fic #dark!fic

419 notes · View notes

werezmastarbucks · 4 years

Text

more like honeymoon [2]

previous part

word count: 3769

warnings: loving couple throws fists

music: in the text

LOS ANGELES by blink-182 segment

You had a dream that the prison world was being destroyed. The fearful suspicion was on the back of your mind at all times, but you didn’t know how to express it. Kai always said you were the more paranoid one. All the bad outcomes, you always considered them. You argued that this kind of pessimistic outlook saved your live even when you didn’t know it did. Well, look where you are now, he would reply. Not that it’s bad, so I don’t know what I’m trying to prove here. He just liked to argue.

The white light together with earthquake came, and the ground crumbled beneath your feet. Kai was somewhere away, you could only see his silhouette as he stood on a hill or something. You were now staying in Los Angeles. The end came while you were running to him, the whiteness becoming your least favorite color. Your heart was tearing apart because you were so tired of something constantly trying to stop you from being together.

You woke up in your happy crowdless realm, the queen of enclosed nothingness, and felt like you wanted to go home for the first time. Just because this dimension was more fragile.

Kai was sleeping next to you, his nose deep in the pillow, and you had no idea which part of him was responsible for breathing. Like in a trance, you crawled out of bed and left through the balcony doors to look down on the city lit by nobody, to make sure the world was intact. It didn’t, and wouldn’t, go anywhere. You got used to being here alone and having it all, so quickly, a part of you couldn’t imagine sharing this planet, and Kai, with anybody.

When you returned to bed, Kai was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. His hand took your chin and turned your head to him.

“Where were you?”

“I had a bad dream”.

Kai was a pro in bad dreams. He had a black belt in going back to hell through his dreams. Agonizing, long, realistic nightmares plagued his head no matter how deep he shoved it under the blankets. He looked a little strict for someone who consoles another after a bad dream. You had your suspicions he had other things on his mind. Sometimes you would catch him observe you as if he was expecting you to run away.

LA1 by Moby segment

You were finishing the book. This was the book you’ve been meaning to read ever since you were fourteen. When everybody nailed it at school, you were busy with other more interesting stuff, and so, you never ended up reading it. Now was the epitome of everybody’s ‘one day’. People leave interesting tv shows, tedious chores, the best packs of cookies and postponed hobbies for that cryptic ‘one day’ but it never comes. Not for most people at least. Now, you two, more so you than Kai, finally faced this neverending time period to do everything procrastination took away from you. You finally were finishing that damn book.

As you laid there at the pool of your new house, and the sun was sending blinding specks jumping off the water, Kai was drawing complicated shapes on the side of your leg and looking down the valley of Los Angeles, the city where he was king. Just like everywhere else.

“I think I have memorized every inch of you by now”, he said.

You swallowed down a sigh, because you were about fourteen pages away from the end. You knew when Kai started talking, there would be nothing else but talking for at least fifty minutes.

“Good, now, if I get into a horrible car crash and get terribly disfigured you will recognize my body one way or another”, you replied, trying to at least finish the page. Kai’s hand laid on the paper, pulling it away.

“Once we get out”, you smiled.

“If we get out”, he corrected you.

You let go of the book he was pulling away. He didn’t like sharing you.

“You think... we’ll be here long?”

“The spell is all we have, and it’s useless”, he shrugged like he didn’t care. “There’s nothing else. The ascendant is out there, and we don’t have a Bennet here to cut her...”

“Do these things have expiration date?” you asked, worried, “is it possible that one day, this prison will collapse and disappear?”

He looked at you, his hand caressing your knee absently.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s awesome here though, isn’t it? You like it, right?”

“Of course I do”, you nodded, without giving it too much thought. You looked down to the city where Kai’s gaze has been wandering earlier. “I’m still waiting for the horror to kick in, but it doesn’t. Either I’m too jaded to care, or...”

You bit your lip hard, thinking, whether you’re willing to spoil him. Parker’s palm squeezed your skin lightly. His hands were always warm, and he never refused to tickle you. He was a perfect guy to live with in a prison world: impossible to exhaust, handsy and resourceful. He could stay in one place for weeks, or drive through several states in one day. He knew every part of this magical planet and never felt lost anymore. It was bittersweet how this luxury of traveling without any discomfort came after eighteen years of him agonizing here alone.

He looked good with the hills of Los Angeles on the background, serving as colorful addition to him. His dark hair, and gun-like eyes, his demeanor of rich cynical kid who’s going to do you on the kitchen counter and never call again - only, Kai was following you everywhere.

“Or?” he took you out of your pondering. He didn’t like that either, when you drifted off in the middle of conversation. What are you thinking about? Who are you thinking about, Y/N? His tone of voice always said, I took you as far as an enchanted prison world so that you can’t see other guys, and you still have your head in the clouds.

“The feeling of having everything you need in your arms is intoxicating”, you sighed. The fundemental sensation of being completely satisfied with your life, while being in a literal prison world, came from the realization. Kai Parker was the final point of whatever path you’ve been striding. You weren’t one for professing your love passionately, or expressing it many times. But this one time you felt like you needed to get it off your chest.

“You ever had that?”

He blinked.

“Do you want to stay here, or do you want to move on? You wanted to see Fontana, right?” he asked, a bit lost, and he sounded like his mouth was dry. You took your book back from him.

“Pomona first”.

That night there was vivid change in Kai; instead of pounding you into the bed, like he usually did, as you both enjoyed it, he laid low, pressing you into the matrass with all his body. You felt almost like suffocating on the long, stretching feeling he was drilling into you with passionate, deep movements. For the first time you felt what it was like when you’re trying to jump out of your own skin with pleasure, after all the crying and moaning is just not enough.

“Wait for me, baby”, he was whispering, as you two moved together, hips to hips, shoulders to shoulders, and you thought your eyes will pop out, that maybe your nails are already halfway inside his shoulder blades. Kai was changing; he has been for some time now. He was becoming calmer and happier, and now, as he was making you come and told you to hold on at the same time, for a second there you could see him, shed of all his layers. The Kai Parker he would’ve been many years before, many tortures and catastrophes, and murders ago. The magic, devilish temptation, malevolence, misery and memories aside, there he finally was, a person who was begging you not to come without him, because even that, he didn’t want to do alone. As you clutched the hair on the back of his head, soft, just slightly curly, you felt your body fill with love, that kind that never really lets go of you. Because you finally saw the last manifestation of him, the last entity that lived in him, and it needed you, and loved you.

Kai, too, was making love as opposed to your usual experimental mutual fucking. Both types brought you joy; after he collapsed on the pillow next to you, you knew he would never be the old Kai. You could feel it in your guts.

I’M ON FIRE by Bruce Springsteen segment

“I could take you literally anywhere, and you still choose America”.

You dragged your now big bag on the glistening asphalt, sweating in heat, and gave up, motioning towards it.

“Technically, Hawaii...”

“Technically, Hawaii is America”, he nodded, picking up your bag, “but I hear you”.

“The Pacific, Kai”.

“You know what I did when I was here?” he asked, for the thousandth time in nine months.

“Climbed the Everest”, you chanted, rolling your eyes.

“Climbed the Everest”, he noted proudly. It took about a week? for you to convince him you weren’t interested in dying forty-five times before you finally reach the top of the mountain. He clicked his tongue finally, saying there’s no adventure to you. That’s how you ended up jumping off the Grand Canyon. Dares always led you to some drastic decisions you later regretted.

You settled on the famous North Shore, where the ocean was blue and green, and the palm trees swayed every day... all the day. At three oh seven, it rained for eleven minutes, and then, a majestic double rainbow stood above Oahu. The evening was so beautiful you felt you wouldn’t get tired of it in a hundred years. It’s really hard to get tired of hawaiian sunsets. Everything was perfect.

Until your phone rang.

When you were clutching on Kai, your belly bag was on you, together with all essential things in the world of the twenty-first century. You had your phone in there, the charger in case of anything, car keys, wallet, pack of plasters and some gum. It all traveled with you into the world of ‘94, and that’s how you listened to music from the future in the world of the past. The charger was especially useful, because you could keep your phone turned on and took pictures. Literally everything you did resembled a young couple’s honeymoon. You were forced to delete everything from your phone though, so that it could contain all the photos from different places. You even joked that, once you run out of space completely, it’ll be time to go home.

Another once we get out moment.

Now, your phone, that survived here for nine months because you were charging it regularly, rang, and you didn’t even pay attention at first. It hasn’t rung before. This thing is not supposed to ring, it’s supposed to play music and take pictures of Kai as he is being adorable, sleeping in his king-sized bed, his head buried in the pillow.

You stood like a dummy in the middle of the parking lot, waiting for him to bring the bags to the car. And the phone was ringing.

What is this noise? you thought. Then your hand slipped into your pocket, and your heart got confused as to whether to sink or to leap. Your brain got squeezed inside your skull. Rage, and relief, and worry filled you. You knew so many things at the same time. Suddenly you knew you missed home like crazy. You missed leaving the house and seeing dumb people around. You missed not being a spoiled brat living in the houses that didn’t belong to you. Missed the traffic on the streets, and you missed animals and birds. In this world, there weren’t so much as spiders, crawling around and creeping you out. Not a mosquito, not a lousy worm. No sharks in the ocean, no swallows in the skies.

Also, you knew you’d kick Damon’s ass so hard he’s going to choke on his own kidneys. You recalled the moment you threw yourself in front of Kai, so full of yourself, and announced,

you wanna send him away again, you gotta send me with him

and Damon looked at you with his ever exhausted silver eyes of a jaded cat, and said,

okay.

And sent you, the person he used to call a friend, into the prison world.

Also, you knew, somehow, that Kai will be unhappy about this. Many times that he asked you ‘you like it here, right?’ you felt he was now clinging on the very place he used to be horrified of. It was way more than your own ego, so you barely thought that it was you that changed his perception. You were secretly scared his mind will start telling him this condition of things is normal. That only two people in the world is normal. And he won’t want to leave once the chance comes. That all his once we get outs is just him playing along with you, while he knows, in the back of his mind, that you’re never getting out, and he doesn’t care if it drives you crazy.

You answered the phone and didn’t say anything. Damon was silent, too, for a second.

“Well”, he said finally, “how you lovin’ it?”

You found his cockiness inappropriate. Not like he has locked you in a closet with a bully and came round in fourteen minutes to check on you.

“What is it? Are you here?” you asked, you throat dry.

Kai left the supermarket and was about a hundred steps away. It was going to rain in half an hour.

“Yes, we decided to pick you up, so to say”, he replied shortly.

“You decided I have learnt my lesson? Decided I was now good to go home, that’s what you decided?” you asked, your voice bubbling inside your throat like a pillar of boiling air.

“Give it to me...” Elena’s voice was closing, and your lungs trembled. You have missed them all. Even the Salvatore douche. God how you missed others. You could see Kai slowed down. He had very good eyes, and he saw you were holding your hand to your ear. He was fifty steps away.

“Y/N, where are you? We came to get you back home. Listen, we never meant to...”

“Ask her about Parker”.

“Are you alright? Are you with him?”

“We’re not taking him with us!”

Your voice quivered.

“I’m fine”.

It came out less bitter than you meant; like you were about to cry, while in reality you were bursting with rage.

“Is he keeping you there? Or has he left you there alone?”

“What do you mean?”

The audacity of them. Left you alone. They’re the only ones who throw their friends into magical prison worlds, for nothing.

“Well, he has stolen the ascendant. We had to build a new one”.

“What are you talking about? Kai doesn’t have the ascendant”.

There was silence. Through the flapping hot hawaiian air, you could see Kai with the paper bags walking towards you.

“Yes, he does”, Elena chuckled sadly. “We thought he’d be out by now”.

“We only found one useless spell, Elena”, you growled, “how are we supposed to get out without Bonnie’s blood?”

“Oh my god”, you heard Damon mutter. The palm trees started swaying in front of you. You knew now yet another thing. You were just afraid to think it.

“Bonnie conjured that one without blood. We didn’t have much time, Y/N. It was just the spell, and the ascendant. You’re saying he found it? Why hasn’t he got out then?”

All your guts sank down there together with your mind. At the same time, there was nothing to be shocked about. The signs were all there. You never even showed interest enough for him to share about the ritual of traveling between the worlds.

“That fucking liar was keeping me here”.

“Y/N, where are you?” Elena was almost yelling now.

“Tell her to go back”.

“Is he abusing you?”

Your face got distorted with anger and bitterness at the same time; you could feel you’re grimacing at him, as the musles in your face and neck went tense.

A gust of wind slapped you in the face, and the phone slipped out of your hand. The invisible pull was so sudden you were grabbed, too, and nearly fell on your face, as the clutch pulled on your hand a little.

“Kai!”

The phone shot through the air, right into his hand, and fifteen steps away, you could see he was furious already. The temper of this guy.

He hopped through the air. Your head was ringing with the echoes of their voices.

Kai couldn’t wait to walk another couple of meters, so he just leaped to you using magic. Perhaps he also did it to startle you more; as he reemerged next to you, his hand laid on your throat, and not the usual possessive sensual way, but ‘i’m about to squeeze the life out of you’ way this time. Your head bumped on the side of the car. The only reason he didn’t smash the phone on the ground was probaby the amount of fantastic pics it held.

“What did he say?” Kai growled.

If you could talk, or breathe, you’d say he’s a dick. You fought him, the anger giving you strength, your fists hitting him into the chest and stomach.

“Is he coming for you?”

Kai was screaming, and you have never seen him like that. For a moment there it felt like the old Parker, the miserable, uncontrollable, lightning throwing witch was back in his skin again, and you couldn’t take it to fix him all over again.

Your hands grabbed on his forearm as you kicked him in the shin as hard as you could. Kai yelled, letting you go, and you could finally breathe.

“Dick”, you scolded, “you dick”.

Your voice was hoarse. He didn’t hear you. Kai was suddenly full of demonic fear and fury, and the noise; he barely felt pain which let go of him in a second.

“You’ve been lying to me?!”

“You’re not going anywhere”, he said, his voice quivering with how much he contained inside. All the acid lava sleeping in the depths of his being, frozen by the comfort of not being disturbed, like he was locked away in a mental institution, now rose again and illuminated his skin from the inside.

“You’re lying to me!”

Too bad you lost it, too. Kai might have become a little like you; but you have become a little like him, too.

“You said there was no way out! While you had the ascendant all along? From day one!”

“You said you liked it here!”

You charged at him, your fist up, and he blocked it easily, hitting you in the stomach.

So, he beats girls, too!

He was never good at seeing the kick coming. God knows why, if you wanted to defeat Kai Parker, you just kicked him with one of your legs. He never sees it coming. The fight exhausted both of you as you screamed atrocities at each other. You knew you were just letting the frustration out; that kind that floods over you when you realize you’ve been wasting months in the prison world while you had all the means of getting out that whole time.

Kai, however, was fueled by something more sinister than that.

You never really meant to hurt him. Just punch him in the teeth for being a proper dick. He knew he was doing wrong, otherwise he wouldn’t be asking this ‘you like it here, right?’ like a broken record all the time.

And like a fool, you always replied, yes, because it was truth.

He now believed you’ve been lying to him, too, like a scared cat that was suddenly brought in at the vet clinic and the doctor was clicking the long metal scissors in front of him. He felt betrayed. He thought you’re dreaming of getting out and see your friends again.

“I am not enough for you! You have the whole world! And me! So what, you meant something else when you said that I am everything you need?” he yelled. Almost at the top of his lungs. The clouds were meanwhile gathering above Manoa, to release the rain in ten minutes.

“I meant it!”

“Then why do you need to leave?!”

“Not me - us!”

“We are not going anywhere! You’re staying here, with me!”

“No, you listen to me, Parker, we’re going back there, together, just like we arrived here! This”, you pointed your finger at the wretched sky where even the rain was on schedule, “is not real”.

As soon as those words left your mouth, you knew he’d misinterpret them.

His mouth moved like he was about to tear down his own face and bit yours off with the bloodied teeth of a skeleton. You could feel your lower lip swell. Blood was dripping down your chin because of how hard you fell on your face after he threw you away with his witchy move. You were about to break his jaw completely, and it was his own doing. If he hadn’t wanted you to become a fighter, he shouldn’t have taught you.

Your right fist was shaking with pain. It felt like you shattered your knuckles completely beating on his stupid head. Nothing in the world could set it right.

“What did you say?”

You felt mortally tired. It felt like when you stood on the edge of the Canyon, like when you were about to fall.

“Kai, this world is fiction. We need to go back out there...”

“It doesn’t work out there!”

“It will”.

He panted. He spat the blood on the ground, and you felt like you wanted to stop fighting and start making out.

The paper bags were scattered all around the car, one lonely banana forgotten under the blazing sun.

“I will fucking kill you for lying to me”, you sighed.

“I thought you loved me”, Kai responded, his voice dead, and your heart shuddered.

“I fucking do!” you roared.

“Then why do you...”

and that, all over again.

#kai parker #kai parker imagine #kai parker x reader #vampire diaries imagine #tvd imagine

84 notes · View notes

corpse--diem · 3 years

Text

You Better Watch Out | Dakota & Erin

TIMING: A few days after Christmas PARTIES: @dakotasgrant & @corpse–diem SUMMARY: Thanks to the town’s magic going awry, someone on the naughty list crashes Erin and Dakota’s movie and dinner date. CONTENT WARNINGS: Teenager death, Medical blood tw (mentions)

A Nightmare Before Christmas horror movie special was most definitely up Dakota’s alley. She’d always loved horror films, even back when she was a kid and her parents fell asleep on the couch while she watched The Exorcist and shit like that. She didn’t normally like doing things with people she didn’t really know, but that’s how you make friends in the world. And who said being friends with people meant they had to be close? Regardless, it was hard for her to say no to Erin based off the horror film factor alone. Plus, well, she seemed nice enough (and also not pushy enough) to hang out with while keeping at an arm’s length. Plus the prospect of dinner after a movie with this person didn’t sound awful… Especially when she was the one who had, once again, flirted her way into this situation. So, she showed up at The Nordica, maybe a few minutes early, and waited for Erin -- and yes, yes she had ordered a large popcorn to share. With butter.

Erin never minded her own company. She’d grown up the only child of two busy morticians and entertaining herself for hours on end was just… normal. Even into adulthood. The last year had changed something about that though. Maybe it was finding some souls she didn’t mind filling some time with, the multiple near-death escapades, but here she was actively reaching out to people she didn’t even know to go see a movie. Like none of the things from this year had happened. Like she could just pick up and carry on a normal life. She had to try at least, right? Why else had she survived if not to try? Dinner and a movie. She could do this. Have herself some fun with an attractive, smart woman. That was normal and healthy. Just have fun - she was sure that’s what Marley would be suggesting after gleefully teasing her for the attempt. If they were talking, at least. Another thing she didn’t want to think about right this second.

When she approached The Nordica, she kept an eye out for the description Dakota had given her as she purchased two tickets--she’d asked her out here, after all, right? Erin glanced up to see an older couple bickering as they made their way through the lobby. It was hard to miss, or hear, rather.

“I don’t even want to see this damn movie. What’s with you and horror movies anyway? And what the hell is a Krampus?”

“Then just take a nap, Harold, I don’t care what you do.”

It was hard to hold back the chuckle as they passed, slipping past her into the theater. Her eyes glanced around when she made a lucky guess on a dark haired woman with a tub of popcorn. “Hi… uh, Dakota?” She asked, giving a small wave. “If you’re not Dakota, I’m so sorry but I’m Erin? Erin Nichols?” She offered, a friendly smile on her lips, holding her hand out. “Nice to finally meet you, maybe-Dakota.”

Dakota didn’t really know what she was getting herself into when it came to Erin. She seemed normal, and the concept of the night truly did sound like a typical thing to do with a friend. Watch a movie, eat some popcorn, small talk. Dinner afterwards. But Dakota was quickly realizing that the more time she spent in White Crest, and the more people she spent time with in White Crest, the more wild everybody seemed. With Marley, she’d dug herself into a shitstorm of crisis. Morgan made her question what the hell she knew about blood as well all physical, organic, biological happenings—which, that reminded her, that she should probably ask the medical examiner about what’d she’d seen. But all of that was just to say that she’d realized that whoever she talked to here in White Crest always had her confused in one way or another. She chalked it up to either everyone in this damn town was ass-backwards, or she was. Erin had approached her at just the right time, though, because the more she thought about it, the more worried she got that this woman would end up being a fucking crazy person. But the moment she thought about taking the bucket of popcorn and hightailing it back to her place, the woman appeared right in front of her. Erin. Erin Nichols. “Oh, uh, yeah. Dakota Grant.” She’d shook her hand, and then awkwardly tilted the bucket of popcorn in her direction. “Real butter. I thought you said something about loving this place’s popcorn. Plus you bought the tickets, so.. I thought I could at least buy the snacks.” And they’d probably arm-wrestle for the bill at dinner.

“Oh, so you were listening,” Erin smirked, cheekily plucking a few popcorn kernels from the bucket. Nodded approvingly as she chewed. “Mmm, yep. Just as good as I remembered. I don’t get over this way as often as I usually like so this is a treat.” She held one in the air like a mini-toast. “Hope you enjoy,” she added and chomped on another, pulling out the tickets for the movie. It felt weird now, standing here in front of this stranger, trying to pretend she was normal. She was. In comparison to more than half of the people she knew, she was on the normal side of that sliding scale. From what she knew of Dakota so far was that she was a quirky CSI that wasn’t hard on the eyes. Maybe just her brand of weird enough to get along with. “Krampus is the only thing playing right now. Hope that’s alright with you,” she smiled and handed her the ticket. Tilted her head, nodding towards the hallway that led further into the theater. “Ready when you are?”

“Believe it or not, I’m a great listener.” Well, so far, so good, right? Dakota had to think that Erin couldn’t be all that crazy if so far all she did was eat some popcorn and ask if Krampus suited her fancy. Which.. Well, at this point in her life, she was just so happy to get out of her house and talk to someone that it didn’t matter what they watched, because Dakota would have gladly sat her ass through some sappy rom-com if it meant not having to be alone wracking her brains about a case or.. Well, worse. Truth be told, she actually really liked Erin already just based on the fact that she owned a funeral home—and, given that this get-together didn’t end in awkward words or sliced fingers—she was already planning on asking for a tour. It didn’t take them very long to find their seats and get situated. They were early enough to not miss previews, but it seemed like the place was practically dead anyways, which Dakota would prefer so she could talk a lot of shit about the movie in real-time. “So.. You’re from White Crest, then?” she asked, popping a few pieces of the buttery goodness into her mouth.

Erin slunk into her chair--outdated ones that probably hadn’t been replaced since she was in high school herself. They were tiny, only barely reclined and were more likely to be found around a stage theater than in a movie theater. “Born and raised. Pretty boring stuff,” she nodded, growing more comfortable. The theater was on the emptier side, which she had planned for. One of the perks of growing up here was that she knew exactly what times this place would be dead. “You said you recently moved here?” Propping her feet up on the empty chair in front of her, she reached into the bucket to grab a handful for herself, munching one at a time. “What in the world brought you here?” She asked, trying not to sound judgmental and held as much of a curious, getting-to-know-you vibe as possible. “I just mean, you know, I’m glad you are! There’s just... not much here, even though it feels like outsiders are rolling in by the busload. I just don’t know the draw.” That wasn’t entirely true. Erin had learned what exactly that draw was but she didn’t know if Dakota knew what it was.

Erin seemed so.. Laid back. And maybe that’s sort of what intrigued Dakota about her, because she was so fucking wound up all the time that she didn’t know what it was like to just… Lean back, eat some popcorn, and chill the fuck out for a few minutes. But, like she’d said, she was born and raised in this town, and that had to be some pretty boring stuff—although she didn’t really see how that could be boring when Dakota herself was investigating scenes left and right, yet nobody seemed to be surprised by that. But, of course, she then wanted to know what brought her to this place, of all places on the map, and the only person she’d ever told the truth to was Morgan. And, to be fair, a movie theatre didn’t seem like the best place to spill her guts. “Just needed to get out of the city. I grew up in Detroit—like you, born and raised. It’s a big city but everyone knows everything about everybody like it’s a small town. So… I picked a town that seemed the most boring, packed up all my shit, and.. Well, sayonara.” The previews were just beginning to show, and of course a lot of them were old reels that probably nobody bothered to change before showing a movie, and there was a sort of nostalgic easiness in that. “I don’t think there’s much of a draw. Maybe the schools, the cool bar scenes. Me personally? I threw a dart at a map and made the decision.” Half-truths aren’t still considered lies, are they? “So you’re telling me in all your time living here there hasn’t been one crazy thing that’s happened? Clearly it’s not all boring.”

Erin could understand that feeling--wanting to get out, get away. “Good for you. Sometimes you just need to get away from it all. You know? Start fresh. I get that. Really.” She’d almost done the same thing a year ago, when she’d gotten to the point where she thought she’d reached her breaking point. It was almost laughable how low that bar was at time. “Crazy? Here?” Erin visibly grimaced at Dakota’s last question, a hint of a smirk that let on more than she was probably willing to share at the beginning of a blossoming, normal friendship. “Well--no. Okay. It’s not all boring. It’s actually not boring at all. For small town standards, anyway. I mean, you heard about that tornado in the common the other week right? Or that huge sinkhole that swallowed up some buildings?” She popped a few more pieces into her mouth before point a very serious finger Dakota’s way. “I know I’m going to sound nuts saying this, and I hope I’m not the first person to warn you, but stay away from the mimes. They’re an actual fucking menace to this entire town. I don’t know how they’re still allowed but you’re better off walking down an alley on Amity Road alone at night than approaching one of those fuckers.”

Dakota arched her brow as Erin talked, though for the most part she was just listening. She had heard about those things—the tornado, the sinkhole. But those were natural disasters that could happen to any town. Erin did get a little intense when she started to talk about the mimes, which made Dakota laugh—actually laugh. “Nobody’s warned me about any mimes, and I’ve never seen any, but when I do, you’ll be the first person I tell. Fair?” she asked, finally relaxing into her seat a bit more and popping pieces of popcorn into her mouth. The theater was still fairly empty save for a few people scattered around, and the previews slowly came to a close as the opening scene finally started. Dakota didn’t think that this was going to be a formal movie watching event, so while her eyes were still on the screen, she kept the conversation going. “Didn’t you say your funeral home burned down or some shit? What was all that about—electrical fire? Arson?”

Erin sat up at Dakota’s laughing. Oh, no. She thought she was joking. A fair immediate assumption, she supposed. The fact that this was something she had to warn people about was reasonably humorous but the reality absolutely was not. “No, I’m serious!” Still, the infectious laugh that shook her own shoulders couldn’t be helped. “I’m serious. Okay? Just--be careful. Don’t you dare say you weren’t warned.” She didn’t know how to emphasize that anymore without making it seem even weirder than it already was. She tried, at least? Of all the phobias she thought she’d develop, this wasn’t one of them, but it still had nothing on the fear that struck her at Dakota’s last question. Dakota, the crime scene investigator. She nodded, her eyes stuck on the movie as the opening credits started. “Yeah, it did. They couldn’t determine the cause, so they had to label it as an accident. They think it was the faulty wiring. It was an old house, it makes sense, I guess.” She shrugged, trying to move past it quickly. “But it’s almost rebuilt. Thankfully the whole place didn’t go down.”

A jump scare almost got her--almost, but she played it cool, blaming the slip up on only half paying attention. Not everyone was so lucky though. The older man in front of the startled, the same one from the lobby, making good on his word on his nap. Erin didn’t pay too much attention when he muttered something to his wife, eyes wide and fearful, like he’d woken up from some sort of nightmare. “Harold, shush, it’s just a movie--” she heard his wife say, hushing him quickly, eyes never leaving the movie. He grumbled and said something else before settling back into his seat.

Her eyes flicked back to the movie--and yep, there he was. Krampus himself, ready to scoop up one of the family members. Something shadowy seemed to move behind the actual screen but she chalked it off to the old movie reel or the old theater itself. “I’m, uh--surprised you weren’t on the case for that one. You’ve been in town… how long again?” She asked, unworriedly snacking and drank a heft sip of her water to wash it down. “Do you see that?”

Well, at least Erin had warned her. It was weird, because she’d lied about never being warned before. In fact, this was probably the third or fourth person in this whole town to warn Dakota about the mimes and she still didn’t know what the problem was. The French street performers didn’t scare her, and neither did the shadow that passed in front of the projector. She thought nothing of it, and nothing of the old man muttering in his sleep. If she were being honest, Erin was probably the only person she’d laughed with so far, so she was far too busy trying to keep conversation alive to care about the shadow moving behind the movie screen.

“I could have taken it, but uh.. Ya know, I was on leave. Not.. Real leave, I guess. I just sort of shut myself out from the world for a few months, no big—” Do you see that? And Dakota did, in fact, see it. A large shadow moving behind the screen of the movie… Normally she would have brushed it off, determining some employee was back behind the screen for some reason, or a projector malfunction, but… The silhouette didn’t look.. human. “I, uh.. Yeah, what the hell is that?” She wondered, both aloud to Erin as well as to herself. It didn’t take long for shit to hit the fan, though, because there was a loud ripping noise, and when Dakota looked up, there was a giant slash in the silver screen, and a beastly looking… What the fuck is going on?

She was stunned, though. Stunned enough not to know if she should be scared or amused, or if Erin knew what the fuck was going on. But regardless, she was definitely stunned still, frozen in place. “Erin… Please tell me this is part of the movie…”

Erin would have preferred to continue the conversation--she would have preferred just about anything than what was currently unfolding in front of them. Screams ripped through the small theater, the loudest coming from the teenagers who had managed to sneak into an R-rated movie up in the front row. Christ. She couldn’t even get through one night, one night, She popped up in her seat, knocking over the popcorn between them. “I don’t know, I don’t--” A roar bellowed louder than anything in the room, followed by the slash of the staff in the thing’s hands. When her eyes adjusted, they landed on the horns sticking up from the top of his head. The movie continued to play, flickering over the behemoth in the most eerie light.

She froze when her eyes locked onto the shadowy figure. It was Krampus. The Krampus on the screen was the same one ripping through this goddamn theater. She didn’t have time to even think about the how’s or why’s of it. God damn fucking magic was the only thing that crossed her mind, over and over. Just reached into her bag for the hefty knife Nic had left her, and the same one she brought with her everywhere in this stupid town, thanks to situations like this. “We gotta go,” Erin managed, starting to guide Dakota up. And she was about to run for the exits, let someone else deal with this, when one of the teenagers let out a blood curdling scream. Krampus was going for the kids. Of course. Of course. “...Fuck,” she cursed under her breath. Glanced at the exit one more time, glanced at Dakota, then back to the violent scene at hand. Someone was already helping the teenager who had been slashed but the thing was going after someone else. “You should go,” she nodded and ran over to help.

Dakota would have preferred just about anything other than whatever the fuck was happening. She would much rather enjoy her pseudo-date with Erin rather than witnessing the traumatizing event unfolding right there in The Nordica. But she couldn’t think about what she wanted, even if it was light banter and orange chicken at The Red Dragon. Especially not when there seemed to be an actual monster standing in their presence. In her whole adult life, she’d seen a lot of horrific bullshit. Bloody scenes, cruel murders, victims practically mauled to death in front of her eyes—but nothing terrified her more than the events unfolding right here, right now, at this very moment. At first, she believed it was just some prank or some weird theatrical spin on Krampus—god, how badly she wanted to believe that still—but it was probably the way Erin tried her best to get her out of her seat, the soft-spoken We gotta go, and the blood-curdling, terrifying scream ringing in her ears that convinced her more than anything that this wasn’t a joke, nor was it a performance, and if it were, she was never speaking to this woman ever again. A critical decision had to be made, and she had about three seconds to choose between fight or flight. It was weird because she didn’t necessarily feel her legs moving, but she knew she was following Erin into the chaos unfurling. She didn’t quite know exactly what she was doing, but she knew she needed to help the kid on the floor, despite the other person being there. She tried to help stop the bleeding, she heard herself yell for more help, but it was fucking everywhere—she’d seen loads of blood before, but Jesus Christ, it was fucking everywhere. Dakota would regret what she did next for rest of her life, probably, but she left the kid with the other strangers trying their best and ended up at Erin’s side, not sure exactly what the fuck she was doing, but was ready to do what needed to be done. Amongst the mayhem, someone had pulled the fire alarm to alert authorities, and Dakota found herself fighting to be heard amidst the noise. “You gotta plan?!”

A plan? Erin’s eyebrows shot up, not just from the shock that Dakota was still here, but that she was actually looking to Erin as if she had any idea what she was doing. There was a palpable ire from the small crowd garnered from the slashing of a young teenager. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. There was enough in this town that fought the townsfolk. Eventually there became a point when people just became pissed. As Erin watched the scene unfold, it became clear this was the case. The monster was roared, only just a little louder than the cut of the staff through the air as it swung--and often hit the other patrons. Blood splattered across the ripped screen. “Don’t die?” She offered to Dakota, though immediately regretting her choice of words. Her heart clenched at the pain in the poor kid’s face. She brushed his hair back, feeling the cold sweat building on his forehead. Fuck. He wasn’t looking good at all. “Can you get him out of here?” She asked, hopeful that there was still time. That anger in the room filled her and she found herself standing, moving to join the crowd who was doing anything they could to fight back against this monster that mirrored the one still playing on the screen behind them. It would’ve been comical, with the way purses were being slung, drinks were tossed in its face, trash cans rolling under their feet, if there wasn’t a very real threat of death with every swing of its sharp staff.

The Krampus creature shrugged off the few people around them, focusing on the woman he’d slashed, now crawling away a few feet from them. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she grumbled between grit teeth. With the monster’s back to her, she gripped the knife in her hand and booked it. The staff was in the air, ready to slash the woman on the ground again when the knife dug in between it’s shoulderblades. It roared, dropping the staff, immediately jerking and throwing Erin off of it. It howled in pain, growing desperate and angry. One of the patrons managed to kick away the staff, earning a swipe from the creature that sent them into a row of seats. The knife was still sticking out of his back as he set his eyes on Erin, who was scrambling away. The other woman was bleeding but she’d managed to pull herself somewhere safe.

Fight or flight. When presented with something that instills fear, stress, anxiety, or anger, the amygdala sends a distress signal. What did Mr. Fredericksen say? Right—amygdala, hypothalamus, adrenal glands, adrenaline. The hypothalamus activates the sympathetic nervous system, and then the automatic nerves haul ass to the adrenal glands, which then respond by pumping a shitload of epinephrine—Or adrenaline—into the bloodstream. Textbook.

At the end of the day, it was all textbook. It all boiled down to physiology—just a bodily reaction that occurs when in the presence of something that is mentally or physically terrifying. The last she checked, Dakota had never seen a fucking… Whatever the hell this thing was. And she also never stood in a crime scene before it was finished being made. So...Terrified? Understatement of the goddamn century. She tried not to think about it too much, though. The specifics of it all. What the creature was, the point of entry...because the more thought she put into it, the shakier her hands became, and it was really fucking hard to pick up some lanky teenager and drag their nearly-lifeless body somewhere relatively safer when your hands were shaky. It didn’t really matter, though, because she’d seen a pool of blood that size before, and spoiler alert—the vic’s never made it out alive.

It all just… It happened so fast. One minute she was trying to stop the bleeding, the next she was asking Erin what the plan was. In a mirage of memories, she could only assume that she’d started dragging this kid out of the way moments before the roar. She hadn’t seen, it all happened so fast. The staff, though—she heard it clang to the floor, a grunt and then a thud, and by the time she looked back, Erin was on the ground, scrambling away, just.. Jesus, they were all just fighting for their goddamn lives. Fight or flight.

She didn’t think. Dakota didn’t have the capacity to think—a trauma response working itself out in real-time. One minute the staff was on the floor, just far enough away from the beast to maybe grab, and the next it was in her hands. She let out the breath she’d been holding for what felt like an eternity, and like ripping off a band-aid, she’d charged towards the beast, using its own spear to impale him—steak right through the heart.

Erin barely rolled out of the way of the creature’s huge swipe radius in time to earn a shallow gash along her arm instead of her stomach, where the thing had originally aimed. She was waiting for the next blow, hands covering her head as if it would help--but it didn’t come. Another roar shook the small theater and when she looked up, she heard the squish of flesh and she was greeted with a gush of blood. When the creature fell, pathetically and angrily squealing on its way to the ground, she saw Dakota standing there. Had she really just delivered the killing blow? Her eyes shot up, finally realizing how hard and fast her heart was pounding in her chest. So much was happening, and still happening, that her mind was still trying to catch up. That’d just happened right? A fucking Christmas monster had just… hopped out of the screen and attacked them all, right?

A few others were poking the creature beside her, making sure the thing was finally, actually dead. Multiple prods confirmed it. “Did you--was that you?” She asked, and after a short pause, followed up with, “Are you okay?” She was a little bewildered and little something she couldn’t quite place. Impressed was a good word for it for now. She held her hand out for Dakota to help her up. “Fuck, is the kid okay?”

As soon as she’d jabbed the weapon through the beast’s flesh, Dakota stumbled backwards just a few steps, breathing heavy not so much for the effort, but more so due to the rush of it all. The commotion may have stopped once the monster had collapsed to the floor, but there was still much to process. If you would have asked her how she expected tonight to go, she couldn’t have made this shit up in her wildest nightmares.

Silence rang in her ears despite the noise happening around her. It was like white noise—she knew Erin had said something to her because she saw her lips moving, but she was crashing from the adrenaline, and shock was now beginning to sink in. Reaching down, Dakota grabbed Erin’s hand and helped her up, brushing her off and even instinctively checking her over for any more serious injuries. She came to the conclusion that she had a laceration on her arm, but the rest of the blood stat soaked her clothes and painted her face had to of been either from the kid, other people who had been harmed, or the beast’s.

The kid. That’s when her hearing tuned back in. “I.. Don’t know.” It was an honest answer to two simple questions. Was she okay? I don’t know. Was the kid okay…? “No, um.. No, he’s not. The gash was too deep. Abdominal aorta, I think...? Definitely hemorrhaging,” Jesus Christ, she just witnessed a kid die. “He was probably dead in under two minutes.”

There was silence, and then there were sirens. Officers were on their way to collect statements and paramedics were dispatched to collect the victims and tend to those needing medical attention. Looking back over at where the monster should have been laying only to see an empty space that a puddle of blood now occupied, though, forced a pit in her stomach to open up and swallow her whole. She didn’t even process the information at hand before she had mumbled something along the lines of “let’s get the fuck out of here,” grabbed Erin’s unscathed arm, and started tugging her towards the exit.

Erin felt her entire body sag at the news. The kid was dead. Fuck. It always hit a little different when there was a kid involved. More than a decade of dealing with tragedies like this never made it easy, not even for her. The thing--Krampus?--wasn’t even there anymore. It was dead presumably, gone for sure, but there wasn’t even a body anymore to vindicate the kid’s death. Magic. She didn’t know how or why this thing had suddenly appeared but the only explanation for it was fucking goddamn magic. A new surge of panic filled her when she heard the sirens in the distance. “Shit,” she muttered. The last thing she needed right about now was another unexplainable run-in with the police with another dead body. Erin nodded wordlessly, running almost solely on adrenaline and fear at this point and followed Dakota out the doors. Didn’t even feel the shallow slash on her arm, more concerned with the sirens growing louder behind them and Dakota’s state of mind. Which, from the looks of it, was frazzled at the absolute very least.

Only once they were piling out into the parking lot, the cold air was smacking them back to reality, did Erin finally take a long, wavering breath. She didn’t even know how to approach this. Usually Erin was the one getting smacked with something like this, left flabbergasted and traumatized. And while she was both of those things, she felt a little more prepared than how Dakota looked. She stood, giving Dakota another glance over--she looked fine, physically. And that’s all she could hope for either of them at the moment. Clearing her throat, she glanced back at the theater one last time and then nodded towards the other woman. “So, uh--rain check on dinner?”

#you better watch out #wickedswriting #chatzy #chatzy: dakota #medical blood tw #just mentions but tagging to be safe

9 notes · View notes

halstudandruz · 5 years

Text

First Time (NSFW)

*Not my gif*

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Requested: Yes

Prompt: First time/NSFW Prompts

Warnings: Swearing, smut (18+)

You and Jay had been dating a few months and the farthest you had gone was many makeout sessions. You knew the questions were bound to come at some point soon. The fact was, yes, you were a virgin. It wasn’t like you really wanted to be. You had listened to all the jokes about you being a prude, but that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t that you wanted to wait for marriage or anything you actually knew that you didn’t. You just wanted it to be with someone you felt strongly for. To you the emotional connection needed to come before any physical connection, and you definitely weren’t about to give it up for someone who didn’t understand and respect that. You wanted to be open with Jay and tell him from the get go, but the fear crept in every time you tried, and the fact that you actually were starting to fall for him didn’t help.

Once again like many times before you were laid underneath Jay, lips working flawlessly against his as a movie played in the background. Your hands were running up and down his arms and chest as his stayed on your hips. Until he moved one up underneath your shirt reaching for your breasts. Immediately you grabbed onto his hand halting it. Guilt flowing through you once again as you broke apart from him to see the confusion and disappointment on his face that he had always tried to hide too well. Sighing you moved to sit up against the arm of the couch looking at him.

“[Y/N]... don’t take this the wrong way or anything..but am I doing something wrong?” He asked sitting up further.

“What? No, of course not.” You answered quickly bringing a hand to his cheek as he continued to look at you skeptically making you take a deep breath. “Okay Jay..there’s something I need to tell you..” You bit your lip looking away from him. He tilted your head back to look at him concern in his features. Opening your mouth the words were stuck in your throat.

“Baby, what is it? You can tell me.” He urged.

“I’m...a virgin.” You spit out wincing as you searched his face for any emotion and were surprised when he let out a loud laugh.

“Oh thank god.” He let go of a deep breath.

“What?” You asked confused.

“That’s it?” He looked at you expectantly.

“Uh..yeah?” You answered.

“Why were you so afraid to tell me?” He brushed his hand through your hair tucking a piece behind your ear.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to scare you off.” You admitted.

“Honey, that would never scare me off.” He promised.

“Yeah, well not all guys are like you.” You shrugged.

“I know. I’m pretty cool.” Jay joked kissing your cheek. “So, you want to wait until marriage or?” He continued.

“No. I just want it to be someone who loves me as much as I love them. I want that emotional connection.” You explained.

“You’re amazing you know that?” He smiled softly at you.

“Now you’re just trying to get in my pants.” You rolled your eyes.

“You wish.” He retorted leaning down to capture your lips again.

—————-

It had been a little over two months since your confession and you swear you were head over heels for Jay Halstead. He made you feel like a queen in every way. He had taken you out to dinner and you were now sitting on a blanket by the river looking out at the city lights. It was dark and nobody else seemed to be around. Jay arms were tightly wound around you as you leaned up against his chest.

“[Y/N]..”Jay whispered barely audible.

“Hmm?” You asked tilting your head up to look at him. His eyes flickered over your face before meeting your eyes.

“I love you.” He confessed. Feeling your heart drop you turned to him with wide eyes making him chuckle. “I don’t expect you t-“ He began before you cut him off with a kiss. Pulling back you smiled at him.

“I love you too.” You reciprocated making him grin wide pulling you back in for a kiss. It didn’t take long for the kiss to become heated as you pushed him back crawling on top of him. Your mind was racing, but you kept pushing every fear further into the back of your head as your hands roamed his body continuing to travel lower, laying open mouthed kisses along his neck. Your palm finally stopping at the bulge in his pants putting pressure against it. “Can we..try something new?” You asked looking up at him innocently. Jay’s breath caught as he grabbed for your hand. You looked up to see him flushed, eyes wide, blush covering his face.

“Hey, I don’t want you to think I said that to get something out of it. I really do love you. We don’t ha-“ He started to explain but you covered his mouth with your hand to stop his words.

“I have been trying to work up the courage to do this for days. Don’t stop me now Halstead.” You smirked as he nodded against your hand. You nervously slid down his body bringing both hands to his belt working to undo it.

“Are you serious? Here? Now?” He asked looking around at the dark and empty space around you.

“Okay if you don’t want me to do this just say so.” You huffed.

“No! No, I definitely do. Continue.” He panicked guilt coming over his voice. Feeling bad that you thought he was trying to stop you. You sighed bringing your shaky hands back to his belt. Avoiding the obvious bulge just below it. As quickly as you could you popped the belt open along with his jeans biting your lip in anticipation once you pulled his zipper down. He moved his hands to help you pull his jeans and underwear down stopping to look for any doubt in your face. But you pushed the confidence forward tugging on them. Your eyes widened at the sight of his dick hitting his stomach. You had seen pictures before of others, obviously, but it was nothing like the real thing right in front of you. You swallowed hard tentatively reaching out and running a finger over the vein that ran along his shaft. You noticed his body tense at your touch.

“Jay…?” You asked looking up at him from between his legs.

“Yes?” He urged, voice slightly strained.

“I’ve um..never..done this before? Can you...maybe.. show me how?” You implied nervously making him chuckle.

“Of course baby.” He answered moving his hand to grip the base of his dick. He started off slow, hand moving up and down, wrist occasionally twisting. Bringing up his thumb to swipe the little bit of liquid that was dripping out of the swollen tip. After watching intently for a few minutes, feeling warmth spread to your core, you moved your hand to grip him. He wrapped his palm around your knuckles lightly guiding your wrist up and down his shaft. Once you got the hang of it Jay left his hand fall down to his side letting you take control. You could hear tiny whimpers escaping the back of his throat.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” You asked, scared to put anymore pressure on your hand.

“Oh fuck no. Please don’t stop.” He answered. Watching him throw his head back, eyes tightly shut deciding now would be a better time than any. Dipping your head and slowly licking up the liquid that was dripping out. His eyes flew open leaning up on his elbows to look at you. You took a long deep breath before enveloping the head of his dick in your mouth. Jay let out a loud moan at the contact making you smile. In the past week you had done research on the best blow job techniques and you were ready to at least try and put them to work. Working slowly you began to bob your head taking more of his dick in your mouth each time you went down, hand taking care of the rest.

“Teeth..watch your teeth baby.” He instructed.

“Sorry.” You mumbled before going back down on him, paying extra attention to your teeth now. Feeling his dick hit the back of your throat Jay’s hand flew to the back of your head involuntarily thrusting into your mouth, making you gag. “Fuck, I’m sorry babe.” Jay groaned fingers still threaded through your hair. You had a feeling he wasn’t actually sorry. Looking up through your eyelashes you admired how Jay looked. Jaw clenched, biting his lip hard, enough that you were sure he was drawing blood, mouth slightly open as he was letting out ragged breaths trying to control himself undoubtedly. Moving quicker on him, Jay let out another groan he had been trying to hide in his throat. Popping off of him you looked at him eyebrow raised,

“Try to keep quiet...we wouldn’t want to get caught.” You teased, your voice way raspier than you had ever heard it before, as a quiet growl escaped his lips. Returning your head you went back to what you were doing, honestly enjoying what was happening. After a few more minutes your jaw was aching, throat hurting, tears rolling down your cheeks, but you absolutely refused to give up. Jay’s grip in your hair was getting tighter, body tenser, and his breaths were getting faster.

“Baby..fuck! I’m gonna..” He warned trying to pull you off, but you swatted his hands away dipping further down as you felt his dick twitch followed by warm liquid shoot into your throat. Jay’s abdomen tensing underneath your fingertips as your name rolled off his tongue, the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. Once his hand fell to the blanket underneath you, you swallowed completely getting up off of him. You could feel the thickness in your throat as you reached for a water bottle to help wash it down. Collecting himself he arched up pulling his jeans back on to quickly buckle them. Turning to Jay with a small smile he stared at you blankly.

“Uh..was that okay?” You asked suddenly self conscious.

“That was…” he searched for words, “way more than okay.” He settled on chuckling and reaching for you. “Would you like me to do something for you?” He asked gently pressing kisses to your neck.

“Not tonight. One step at a time.” You laughed leaning down to kiss him softly.

—————

About a week after that you were cuddled up in bed with Jay kissing all over his body. Jay breathing hard coming down from another high. You had grown to be obsessed with the sounds Jay made and loved being the reason he was making them, and what better way to do so, then practice? Not that he was complaining. Planting another kiss on his chest you looked up at him lovingly as his breathing seemed to return to normal looking down to meet your eyes.

“Baby?” He asked.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response.

“If you’re not ready I totally understand, but I would love to be able to make you feel good.” He implied hand coming down to rub your neck. You contemplated his suggestion. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to you were just nervous to have somebody see you. To be at someone’s complete mercy, but you knew that if you wanted to be at anyone’s mercy it was certainly Jay’s.

“Okay.” You finally spoke up. He seemed to be taken aback by your answer, but a grin spread to his face pulling you to him he took control flipping you over so you were now underneath him. His lips trailed down your neck lifting you up so he could slip the shirt you were wearing off. His calloused hands traveled over your body taking in every curve. Reaching behind you he unclasped your bra taking time to pull it off before discarding it on the floor. He bit his lip taking your breasts in his hands. Thumbs moving to run over your nipples smirking when a little whine escaped your throat. Dipping his head down, he began to lay kisses all over your chest, tongue occasionally reaching out to tease your nipple. Moving down your body he playfully bit your hip bones sliding your shorts and underwear off slowly. Leaning up he admired your completely bare body lying in front of him. You immediately felt self-conscious as his eyes raked over your body, chuckling a little when his eyes met yours.

“You’re so cute when you blush like that.” He grinned leaving a tiny kiss the tip of your nose. “You’re really are gorgeous though baby. I don’t know how I got so lucky.” He sighed contently hands moving to open your legs wider adjusting himself down between them. Starting by nipping at the inside of your thighs getting closer to your core and backing away to move to your other leg, causing you to growl at his teasing. You felt his breath against you as he chuckled before moving and licking a soft strip up your center. Making you suck in a deep breath. You adjusted yourself moving closer to Jay’s face where you could see he was smirking. Doing it again, but this time harder. “You taste so sweet.” Jay commented making you blush even deeper.

“Okay we don’t need any commentar-” You began to say, but cut yourself off with a big gasp as Jay took the opportunity to dive right in apparently done with his own teasing. Feeling his tongue move hard over you before flicking against your clit. One hand went to thread through his hair as the other flew to cover your mouth already feeling the sounds began to seep out, out of your control. You felt Jay stop and opened your eyes to look down at him.

“Don’t you dare cover your mouth. I want to hear you.” He scolded. Whimpering you moved both hands to the back of his head pulling him back into you which he happily obliged. You felt one of his hands move to grip your hip tightly as the over moved to accompany his mouth. One of his fingers very slowly pushing inside of you. Watching your face twist in slight discomfort he moved to suck on your clit distracting you easily. Surprisingly before long he was able to fit a second finger in curling them up hit a spot that made your hips jolt into his face. Laughing he adjusted his grip harder onto your hip in order to hold you down before doing it again and again, tongue paying extra attention to your clit. Breathing hard you felt your core began to tighten, and not long after at all the pleasure shot throughout your body. Pulling hard against Jay’s hair your thighs tightened, arching back as you screamed out for him. You had felt it before, you had done it yourself, but it was nothing compared to what Jay had just caused. Collapsing back down onto the bed you looked down to see Jay wiping his mouth against his shoulder. Feeling automatically embarrassed you grabbed for his blankets that were tossed to the side covering up while he walked out of the room. Coming back in with a towel he sat down beside you pulling to move the blankets off of you so he could clean you, but you held tightly onto them. He looked up at you confused as you hid your face. “Baby. Look at me.” He stated sternly. Lowering the blanket from your face you turned to see him looking at you with an eyebrow raised. “You know that was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced in my entire life right?” He asked making you roll your eyes. “I’m being serious babe.” He promised grabbing your face in his hands. Rolling your eyes you leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips moving the blankets for him to help you.

-------------

Tonight was your anniversary and you were ready. You had just gotten back from dinner and were cuddled on Jay’s couch watching a movie. You were only 15 minutes in, but you were done waiting as your anxiety just seemed to climb with each second. The one thing you knew was that you didn’t have to worry about feeling any doubt. Whatever happened in the future. No matter went down you knew Jay was the person you wanted to do this with, and with that thought you turned towards him quickly pulling his lips to yours. Taking a minute to gather himself from the shock he flipped so he was lying straight on his back with you straddling his lap. Experimenting you grinded down into his lap making him stiffen beneath you. Figuring it was nothing he went back to kissing you. Continuing to work up the courage you snuck your tongue into his mouth taking control of the kiss expertly working your tongue against his before once again grinding down onto him, this time harder. This time he pulled back to look at you where you sat smiling softly.

“What-” He started to ask.

“I’m ready.” You stated confidently.

“What?” He asked trying to comprehend what you were saying.

“I’m ready, Jay. I want you. I want my first time to be with you.” You repeated.

“You..want to go all the way?” He asked again

slightly speechless.

“Yes, Jay.” You sighed laughing a little, “Unless you don’t w-” You started before he jumped in.

“No! I definitely do. I just want to make sure you’re absolutely sure about this is all.” He explained hand resting against your cheek.

“Do you love me?” You asked sincerely.

“More than you could ever know.” He answered.

“And I love you. I want this. With you and only you.” You promised.

“Wow. Okay. Let’s take this to the bedroom then.” He smiled lifting you up to carry you once you were both standing. Laying you down on the bed he hovered over you planting a soft kiss against your lips. “You are far too dressed my love.” He joked running his hands up the shirt of his that you were wearing.

“I think that goes for both of us.” You smirked pulling his shirt off of him. His hands snuck back up your shirt massaging your breasts while kissing and nipping at your neck. Occasionally biting at your earlobe making you wet from the sensation. It didn’t take long at all for both of your clothes to be stripped and haphazardly thrown around the room. Jay kissed his way down your body stopping when he got to his favorite part of you. Starting slow he gently licked at your heat tasting you and getting you warmed up before moving to insert a finger. Waiting until you opened up more before adding another. Moving his fingers around to stretch you. Whenever he felt you tighten he pulled back appearing back on top of you. Looking down you realized then that Jay’s fingers were nowhere near the size of his dick, nerves increasing in the pit of your stomach. You watched Jay roll off of you opening his drawer to pull out a condom before returning back to you.

“You’re 100% sure about this?” He asked grabbing your face.

“Yes. I want you.” You assured him. Smiling he kissed you before leaning up on his knees in front of you. You watched intently as he gave himself a few strokes, opened the condom wrapper with his teeth, and started to roll it on. You reached out to trace the muscles protruding in his arms and chest before he landed back on top of you.

“Okay baby I’m going to be honest. It’s going to hurt at first, but just be still and relax for me okay?” He asked as you nodded your head. “If at anytime you want to stop just tell me.” He looked at you seriously.

“Okay.” You promised pulling him down further towards you as he lined himself up with your entrance. You squeezed his bicep to tell him to go. Slowly starting to push in, you immediately felt the pain. Raking your nails into his chest he stopped leaning down to kiss you until you gave him the go ahead. That happened about 3 or 4 times until he was finally all the way in you.

“Are you okay?” He asked through a strangled voice.

You could see the lust clear in his eyes, jaw clenched tight as he breathed hard trying to control himself while you got adjusted. Moving against him he got the hint slowly pulling back a little bit before pushing back into you. Not long after the pain started to subside and pleasure started to seep in. Jay’s face was resting against your shoulder tiny grunts escaping him

“Oh my godddd baby. I can’t believe how tight you are.” He groaned before he came to a complete stop looking at you with wide eyes taking a deep breath.

“W-..did you cum already?” You asked looking at his panic. Swallowing heard he breathed a sigh of relief.

“No, but fucking almost.” He answered making you laugh, slowly moving again. Starting to thrust deeper he hit a spot that made you moan loudly. The same spot he had found with his fingers many times before.

“Oh god do that again.” You begged making him laugh as he hit it again, but harder this time. Raking your nails down his back, undoubtedly leaving marks, you started to move with him as best as you could. Your breath started to quicken as moans came pouring out of your mouth, “Jay, yes. Please don’t stop.” Only igniting his lust further reaching down to rub your clit with his thumb making you moan louder. Feeling that familiar tension in your stomach you warned him, “Jay I’m so close. Yes, baby, I’m..fuck-” You started, but were cut off with your own release jolting throughout your body. Stars appearing behind your eyelids, pain completely far gone. Assuming your release had triggered Jay’s when you heard him moan your name loudly enough that you were sure the entire city could’ve heard it biting down on your shoulder. Collapsing fully onto the bed Jay followed still on top of you. Hearts beating fast as you both tried to catch your breath. Your fingers brushed through Jay’s hair when he looked up at you grin covering his face.

“I love you so fucking much.” He shook his head in what seemed like disbelief kissing you passionately.

“I love you too.” You reciprocated smiling back at him. He moved off of you very slowly pulling out of you causing the pain to return as you whimpered.

“Ugh. Sorry baby.” He apologized, but a smirk covered his face once he was fully out.

“What?” You asked following his eyes to the condom he was taking off.

“Well you weren’t kidding about being a virgin.” He winked making you huff.

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes waiting for him to clean you up. A few minutes later you were cuddled into his side, head resting on his chest, listening to his heart beat. “You’re not going to leave me now, right?” You asked glancing up at him as he gave you a look.

“Yeah that was my master plan all along.” He joked shaking his head and kissing you on the forehead.

“In that case can we do that again?” You bit your lip looking at him innocently.

“Yeah, remember you asked that tomorrow.” Jay smirked.

“Eh. Worth it.” You shrugged kissing his chest gently snuggling into him more. You were glad you decided to wait, and you were even more glad that the wait ended with Jay.

#jayhalsteadxreader #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead smut #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #chicago pd x reader #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #one chicago

824 notes · View notes

myluciferiscody · 5 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever P.1

Pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

Word count: 2,541

Warnings: sad, you might cry, spoiler warnings if you are not currently caught up, language p.s. my first ever tumblr fic post! this didn’t end like i expected, please let me know what you think! not entirely proof-read.

*title inspired by Ben Platt’s song*

part 2 part 3 part 4

It has been a year.

It has been a year since your life was flipped upside down when he was murdered.

Xavier wasn’t your boyfriend, per se. You had known him for years, meeting him in kindergarten when you were seated next to each other in art, sharing colored pencils and drawing flowers in vibrant colors.

“Let me show you something!” Xavier had told you, taking the brightest yellow pencil and shakily drawing a sun that wasn't in the corner of the paper but in the middle. Your mouth dropped open at the absurd action; was this kid crazy!? Xavier smiled brightly and leaned over the paint-stained desk, and you could remember his contagious smile with missing teeth like it was yesterday.

Ever since then, you two were inseparable. You had moved in with each other two years after graduation, you working and going to school while Xavier aspired to be an actor, being an aerobics instructor on the side.

You also remember the last time you saw him. He was supposed to be a counselor at that forsaken place, Camp Redwood. Xavier was excited about the job; he didn’t have any siblings, but he liked children, for the most part. He loved the sassy ones, and that a majority of kids were not afraid to speak their mind. Plus, it would be good for him to get away from the bustling city of Los Angeles. He had begged you to come along, but you had a job, you couldn’t possibly take time off at such short notice.

Now that it has been so long, you wished you would have just gone with him. You knew there was no way you could have talked him out of going because you had already tried that.

“Are you sure, Xavier?” you asked him for the millionth time, as the two of you sat on the rickety couch, attempting to watch the latest blockbuster movie that had just come out on VHS. “That place has such bad memories for so many people, it’s probably haunted!”

Xavier shook his head, his blond hair falling in front of his baby blue eyes as he finally looked at you, giving you his signature smirk. Whenever he smiled at you, no matter how cocky he seemed, you smiled back. This time you refrained; you wanted Xavier to know you were serious about this. You really didn’t want him to go. Not only did it give you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, you knew you would miss him terribly.

“It’s going to be fine! You know why?” Xavier asked, leaning closer to you. You lost your resolve, unable to keep from smiling. He liked being close to you.

“Why?” you asked.

“I don’t believe in ghosts, y/n,” he whispered. “Plus, it’s probably all made up, anyhow. I’d be more worried about staying here with the night-stalker on the loose,” Xavier said nonchalantly as if YOU weren’t about to be left alone for the next few weeks.

You glared at him.

“.. Sorry,” he mumbled, and that was it.

You laid on your bed the morning of the anniversary, staring blankly at the analog clock on your bedside. It was still early, the sun barely peeking up over the LA skyline. Xavier’s room was still across the hall, door locked, and almost untouched since it happened. His parents had come and collected some of his stuff, and you refused to find another roommate.

You refused to move anything out of there, all of the clothes and shoes were still where he left them. What pictures of you two that you didn’t have hanging around the place were in there. Some days you needed to see his face; others you couldn’t bear the thought of it.

You planned on visiting his grave today, but you had been there too many times in the past few weeks. Your mom was becoming worried about you, figuring you were falling into a deep depression, and maybe you were. Xavier was the closest and best friend you ever had, you loved him.

You were in love with him.

Not a day goes by that you regret not telling him the truth. You had loved him for a few years, even when he had a fling with some chick Montana, or he occasionally brought a girl home when you were working a night shift. Your first boyfriend actually left you because he knew how you felt for Xavier, and you lied to Xavier by explaining the both of you thought it was best to see “other people.“

Once the sun had finally risen, you climbed out of bed and got ready. The sun was already blistering hot, you could tell as the drapes to your windows gently moved in the slight breeze outside your apartment window. You wanted to get some flowers and bring them to Xavier, or at least, his spirit.

As you walked to the small market next door and grabbed the most beautiful bouquet of flowers they offered, you thought of doing something a little bit different. Go to Camp Redwood.

It seemed like a great idea, as you quickly headed back to your apartment for your car keys. When Xavier’s mother called you that morning and told you what happened, you had raced to their house and listened as the detectives told them where they found him. He was laying by the shooting range, a deep, long stab wound into his stomach, alone. His face was severely burnt, and they assumed he may have been tortured before death. His funeral was closed-casket.

You grabbed one of the maps Xavier had brought home the night before he left, highlighting the route for you, in case you changed your mind.

"OR, if my agent calls me for an audition, this is very important, y/n! I don’t even know if the camp will have working phone lines!”

As you got into your car and started heading the one-hundred-and sixty-six miles to the site, you began to cry. The camp was once again abandoned. Apparently, one of the counselors was stabbing another as the bus full of kids approached. Now the county forbade the reopening of the camp, and around here, many people bragged about going to explore and “making it out alive.” They also claimed everything was still in place, you’d find where Xavier died, and the thought scared the shit out of you the closer you got.

You were forced to park your car in front of the entrance, where the gate was now heavily locked. The red letters were still a vibrant red, showing the lost dream of the crazy bitch who decided to reopen it. You took the flowers and held them tightly, almost too tightly as you slowly climbed over the gate and took off towards the shelters.

Nature had already taken over, as many of the cabins were slowly becoming covered in vines and moss, while tiny animals scurried around. You low-key hoped a bear wouldn’t pop out at you as you tried to navigate yourself. Caution tape still remained in some spots, flapping in the wind, causing you to become distracted at the horrors that went on here that night. There was a wooden map of the camp still standing, but the paint wasn’t in the best shape. However, you were able to tell you were by the women’s cabins.

It took a little longer than you thought, this place was more open than you assumed it would be. Your legs were slightly aching from the trek, but you pressed on, knowing you wouldn’t be satisfied if you wimped out. You turned a corner, and then suddenly, you were staring at a small group of targets, some of them on their sides from the elements or large animals.

Your hands were shaking as you observed the ground, not truly knowing where he took his last breaths, but you didn’t care. You made it.

You went to the only one still standing and gasped in horror. A large, silver 'X' was sprayed onto the targets face, before a small arrow was drawn, pointing to the side. You felt anger and hurt bubble in your chest, not knowing what the intentions were of whoever did this.

Multiple news sources released names of all the second Redwood victims, and of course, someone would do this. You hadn’t seen any other markings of vandalism, surprisingly, but perhaps you weren’t paying much attention. You slowly kneeled down and placed the flowers in a random spot, before falling onto your butt and sitting there.

Tears were still falling down your cheeks as you sat in silence, listening to the bugs in the trees and the sound of leaves blowing in the wind. The sun was beating hot onto your back, but you didn’t care. You had driven almost two hours to be here! You were just thankful nobody else was here, or maybe the sickos would come at night to gawk at the whole place like innocent people hadn’t died here.

You found yourself talking before too long. You told Xavier about his family, what they had been up to, and you talked about yourself. You had recently been promoted at work, you were thinking of getting your Masters degree, there was so much he was missing out on. You always talked to him at the cemetery, but here, it seemed more personal.

“I miss you so much, Xavier,” you sniffled out, wiping your nose on your arm, not caring how disgusting your face felt. It felt good to finally cry, you didn’t do it much anymore. “I-I should have been here, m-maybe we could have survived together, maybe I could have saved you,"

Silence.

You knew he couldn’t answer, you knew it. Yet, you still found yourself angry. Furious at Xavier for coming, mad at yourself for letting him go, for not coming with him. PISSED that anybody let this place open back up. It was good that you set the flowers down because they would be crushed by your fists.

"I don’t know if I can do this without you,” you sniffed. “I thought it would get better in time, not seeing you every day, not being able to hug you or watch television and pig out in front of the couch before hating ourselves,” you smiled at the memories the two of you had gathered over the past seventeen or so years. “Time is supposed to heal us, right? Xavier, I’m lost without you, nothing is right anymore!”

Your sobs grew louder as everything you had been holding in poured out. This pain was something you hadn’t experienced in your entire life; this was you coming to terms with the fact that it’s over. Absolutely nothing can bring him back, and you were going to live the next seventy years of your life in a world without Xavier in it.

Hours had to have passed when you finally got the courage to stand up, your throat parched, and your stomach growling in hunger. Your head was pounding as you gave Xavier’s spot a final glance. You’d come next year.

As you walked back to your car (more like stumbled) from the headache and evident sunburn on your skin, you screamed in fright when a girl with blonde hair darted in front of you, grabbing you into a headlock. You scrambled on your feet, attempting to keep your balance, while simultaneously kicking your leg to knee her in the vagina.

The mystery girl screamed in pain, her hold on you releasing. Another voice suddenly appeared around you, it was male. This crazy bitch glared at you from the ground as you backed away, holding your hands up in surrender.

“MONTANA! STOP THIS!” a man flew in your direction, also holding his hands up. He was cute, dark-skinned, wearing a striped shirt. “Are you okay?” he asked you in a genuine voice.

“N-No! What the fuck is wrong with you!?” you demanded, directing your words at Montana, who stood up but thankfully didn’t come near you. Her name didn’t immediately register in your brain, neither of theirs would at first.

“My name is Ray, this is-”

“Montana, bitch,” she hissed at you.

“I caught it the first time!” you snapped back. Montana’s expression slightly faltered, not expecting that. Ray had lowered his hands, but you continued holding them up, figuring if one of them charged, you could probably protect yourself a little better.

“What are you doing out here?” Ray asked you, and you looked at him with red eyes, a little snot on your nose, but neither cared. Montana had wanted to kill you, but Ray wouldn’t allow it, and Montana knew that.

“My name is y/n, first of all, and second, why is that your business?"

Montana let out a sarcastic laugh, "I like you!”

“Well, I don’t like you! You fucking attacked me!” you wheezed, wishing you would have left earlier to avoid this. You were not in the right state of mind. Montana blew off the little insult, happy she didn’t have the chance to kill you right away.

“I’m sorry about her, she is a little on edge around here,” Ray said, figuring it was a good explanation, given the circumstance of them being ghosts. “We get a lot of tourists, thinking they can trash the place, it’s upsetting,”

“Or they’re nasty perverts who get off on the scent of death infesting this place, and you don’t seem like either of those,” Montana commented, and you finally turned to look at her.

“I-I’m not,”

“Then, why were you here?” Montana pressed.

“My friend was killed here, I.. I was visiting him,”

Ray and Montana both shared a glance, and that’s when it clicked for Montana. She hadn’t paid attention to you much before, but now that she sized you up and down, and you revealed the reason you decided to show up, she knew.

“Holy fuck,” she breathed out.

“What? What’s going on?” Ray asked.

“DID YOU FIND HER?"

The sound of running footsteps once again freaked you out, wondering if you were about to be ambushed by three people. Suddenly, as if in slow motion, his face appeared in front of you. Not just his face, but his entire body. Montana was still watching you with an open mouth, and Ray only looked confused as fuck.

You took a step back, your body now trembling as both you and Xavier realized what was happening. He looked shocked, overwhelmed, and so many other things, but you couldn’t stand to look at him. You screamed, turning and running in the same direction you came, running faster than you ever had in your entire life.

"Xavier,” Montana breathed out.

“Montana!” Ray said.

“y/n,” Xavier choked.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?” Ray shouted at the two people, both still at a loss for words. y/n was still screaming at the top of her lungs, but her voice was fading by the minute.

“Y/N!” Xavier yelled, taking off after you. It was an instinct that Montana and Ray followed, both trying to keep up.

But the way Xavier was screaming your name would make the coldest of hearts break.

#xavier plympton x reader #cody fern #ahs 1984 #ahs spoilers #first fic #xavier plympton #michael langdon #jim mason #duncan shepherd #michael langdon x reader #jim mason x reader #duncan shepherd x reader

463 notes · View notes

prolestariwrites · 4 years

Text

Dadgil Week Day #5: Stubborn/Duties Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil, Nero Tags: Angst, Family Part 5 of 7

(A/N: I did the day 6 prompts today and will feature the day 5 prompts in the next part.)

The Kuren is on its way. The tingling in Nero’s veins that occurs when a demon is nearby is faint, but familiar, so he listens and watches intensely, not sure yet from what direction it approaches. Red Queen is secure to his back, Blue Rose in its holster, and he is ready.

But it is difficult to concentrate, because Vergil is nearby. He sits silently on the side of the van, the door open with him perched on the step. Yamato is sheathed but Vergil holds it like a cane, his hands folded on its hilt. He stares straight ahead, as if unseeing, and Nero wonders what he is thinking.

Maybe he doesn’t want to know. The story he told last night was… disturbing. Nero had known most of it, pieced together in the hints Dante let slip and reading between the lines of the twins’ conversations. He knew they had been separated as kids, both thinking the other was dead, and that Vergil had jumped into Hell when he lost to Dante.

But it was always a joke or something, nothing like what he had described. Nero had no idea what he was supposed to do. He had laid on the couch in the van, staring at the ceiling as he waited for his stomach to settle. The images the story had created in his mind were terrifying, but Nero refused to let a story upset him. He had been fine not knowing, yet now that he knows how much he doesn’t know… it was all too confusing, too much to handle, and he had pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and waited for the emotion to subside.

It never subsided. It just grew and boiled until it turned to a mess of shit. Why did Vergil tell him all that? What was he supposed to do with it? Comfort him? Give him a pat on the back, say it’s all okay or some shit?

Because it wasn’t okay. He didn’t care what Vergil had thought when he raised the Temen-ni-gru or how tough Hell was. It didn’t excuse what he did. Vergil had ripped his fucking arm off, had killed thousands of people in Red Grave City, had nearly killed Trish and Lady and Dante.

He scowls as he looks over at his father, his hands clenching a bit. The horror rises up fresh, but Nero turns it into anger, an emotion he’s much more comfortable feeling. Anger he can work with. “Hey,” he calls. “Can I ask you something?”

Vergil doesn’t look over, but nods. “Yes. This demon is getting close.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nero huffs. “What you said last night. About being in Hell.”

That gets his attention, and Vergil looks over. “Yes?”

“You expect me to believe that bullshit?”

Vergil does not react; not that Nero would have expected him to, the fucker was always as expressive as a wet blanket, but it would have been satisfying to at least see some surprise. “Believe it?” Vergil asks. “It’s the truth.”

“Some shitty ass truth,” Nero growls.

“Shitty or not, it happened.” Vergil goes back to staring straight ahead, which annoys the piss out of him. It feels dismissive, which only cranks up his annoyance more.

He takes a few steps closer to put himself directly in Vergil’s line of sight. “You expect me to listen to that shit, and what? Give you a hug and a cookie? You gave me a list of excuses and you know what? I don’t buy any of it!”

Nero’s voice raises a bit in pitch and volume, Vergil as unimpressed as ever. And that pisses him off even more, because he is filled with a sorrow he can’t handle while Vergil gets to feel nothing. “You know, I was alone too. I was fucking hungry. I got my ass kicked by older kids and sometimes I had to sleep on the street if the orphanage had a sick fucker in charge.” His nostrils flare as Nero struggles to speak through his anger. “Nobody showed up and gave me a fucking sword, though. I had to make one myself. I didn’t get to be the son of some holy saint demon asshole. I was tortured for being the son of a pro, only to find out I’m the son of a lunatic.”

Vergil’s mouth twitches. “I’m not asking your forgiveness.”

Nero pulls Blue Rose from its holster. “Good, because you’re not getting it anyway!”

The trees bend as the Kuren enters the clearing. It is ten feet tall at least, covered in wisps of demon magic that resembles long, shaggy fur, thick curved claws on its paws and two horns that curl up from the top of its head. It gives a roar and lunges at them, but Nero is too quick, jumping in the air and grabbing hold of a tree branch with one hand as he aims with the other.

A series of pops echo in the forest as he shoots. Several bullets sail through the monster, and it roars as he tries to rush the other side. It teeters as it spins to make its escape, exactly what Nero had expected, disappearing faster than he and Dante had ever been able to track but at least gone for another year. But before it can move, Vergil steps out of a portal under the beast and shoves Yamato upwards, into its stomach.

Bright red blood splashes on the ground and douses Vergil with gore. The Kuren is roaring, but without a midsection it can’t run. Nero drops to the ground, squinting a bit at the neon crackle when a portal opens. Vergil kicks the thing through, and Yamato quickly seals it again as the atmosphere returns to normal.

Vergil is a mess. Nero holsters his revolver as he scowls at him, snapping, “What did you do that for?”

“I got rid of it,” replies Vergil. “I sent it to Hell.”

“Send yourself next time!” Nero shouts.

Finally the veneer begins to crack, and with satisfaction Nero watches as Vergil makes a face. “You brought me to fight it, correct? I did what you asked.”

“I didn’t ask you for shit,” he snaps. “I wouldn’t ask you for a thing.”

“What is this about?” Vergil demands. “You wanted to stop the Kuren, and it’s been stopped—”

“Fuck the Kuren!” Nero steps up to him and points an accusing finger. His palm itches to draw his revolver and find out once and for all if a bullet at point-blank range will take care of a Sparda, but instead he pokes Vergil in the chest. “All that shit you said were nothing but excuses. You think you can make up for it by killing some Kuren? Going camping with me, like some goddamn father-son retreat? Fuck that, and fuck you. You took my arm. You killed people. You… you almost killed Dante!”

Vergil’s eyes narrow. “So that’s what’s wrong. You wish he was here instead of me. Feeling is mutual.”

“It has nothing to do with that!” Nero shouts. “It has to do with you. Everything—everything is because of you. You left me in Fortuna. And you know, the Order wouldn’t have been able to do all that shit if it wasn’t for you. They found Yamato and your damn Angelo or whatever it’s called, and used that to make the Savior. Credo died because of you. That’s not even counting all the people who died in Red Grave.”

“Go ahead and blame me then,” Vergil hisses. “It’s the easiest thing to do, isn’t it?”

He steps around Nero, carrying his sword as he heads to the van. Nero watches as he tosses the sword inside and grabs his duffel bag before turning to head towards the stream. “Hey! Where are you going?”

“None of your damn business,” Vergil proclaims, and Nero isn’t sure what surprises him more: his language or the fact that he didn’t answer.

#dmc #devil may cry #dadgil #dmc nero #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #nero sparda #fan fiction #unspoken legacy

34 notes · View notes

trollcafe · 4 years

Text

Museum Date

Length: 1186 words TW: None Brief: Abanny has a surprise for Bruuno! Credits: Abanny and Wicket belongs to @burningbloodtrolls, Dakota belongs to @/terratrolls, Anguil is @/homicidalfantrolls

The museum in the city was perhaps one of your favorite places to go. Mostly because they had an entire exhibit on jazz and the cultural influences. You were never too keen on the influences and history of jazz, you preferred the theoreticals behind the music, and the creation of it. You had been there a handful of times before, mostly with your moirail Abanny and once with Anguil. Abanny had been so sweet as to listen to you talk about the difference in style between two different jazz musicians. She was the greatest. Anguil teased you for being a Geek but he still listened to you, too.

You had allowed yourself to wander off in thought over the jazz exhibit many times. In fact, you thought it'd be cool as fuck to be featured there, among the other musicians.

You always made sure to find breaks in your busy schedule to be with your quads. And today was no exception! Abanny wanted to go back to the museum. "They have a new exhibit that I think you'll like." She had said this with such a sweet smile, there was no way you could say no. Shiloh could though! She was dead set on not going. Which was perfectly fine, you just had Thunder come watch her while she was drawing and watching cartoons.

You never cared much for completely hiding yourself. Any attempt to disguise yourself was minimal at best. You simply pulled your hair into a bun and wore sunglasses. You even had a Whysteria shirt on, of course you did! Nobody ever bothered you. You liked to believe it was because nobody cared too much. The real answer was most likely because you're an eight foot beast of a man, and one on top of the food chain. While others may be afraid, Abanny certainly wasn't. Press hadn't been an issue since you went off on one of them ages ago, so you were pretty confident with walking beside Abanny in public. Abanny outshone you, dressing casually but still nice for a museum date.

The museum was fairly empty. It was the middle of the week. And Abanny was being a bit cheeky the entire time you were in the jazz exhibit. Naturally that was the first stop. The next stop was an exhibit on tattoos. You cracked a few jokes about having nicer tattoos than the trolls featured and even threatened to take off your shirt and show everyone what real craftsmanship looked like. Abanny laughed and you promised to keep your shirt on. For now. Eventually, whatever was making her excited finally ate her whole. You had been studying a particular tattoo on the wall, looking over the line work closely for inspiration when she grabbed your hand. Naturally you followed your moirail as she pulled you out of the exhibit.

And into pop culture. That wasn't really your expertise, but there were no complaints. You glanced around the wild and colorful walls. Various logos of bands and musicians, many you recognized! Abanny explained that the bigger the logo, the more of an Influence they had. That was a cool concept. Mentally, you argued that Troll Depeche Mode didn't have as big of a cultural influence as Troll Green Day, though it made sense that they would diminish the rebellious band. While you were lost in thought, Abanny pulled you along. Luckily there weren't many trolls to weave through.

"Bru, look!" Your beloved moirail's voice broke you free from your mental argument. Your head snapped towards her, then you followed where she pointed. And up on the wall was a very familiar logo. One with a particular flower theme. It wasn't the largest logo on the wall but it stood out to you. In fact, you had to take off your sunglasses to really make sure you had seen it right.

"Oh, holy shit."

"That's what Adi said, too."

Whysteria's logo, clear as day, pasted on the wall with a small blurb about the band that you couldn't even read. It felt like it was just you, Abanny, and the logo Dakota had scribbled on a napkin in a diner after a concert when she said you needed a new one. You aren't entirely sure what to feel. A smile slowly grows on your face. You tuck the sunglasses into your pocket. This didn't feel real just yet. You lean in closer so you can real the placard about the band.

"WHYSTERIA is a post-punk band that utilizes more instruments than normal, and arguably could be called ska. With lead singer and saxophonist Bruuno Sinopa, drummer Wicket Thiget, and guitarist Dakota Shives, WHYSTERIA has made noticeable changes to the stigma of mental illness in music."

Nope, that was you alright. Ska? You had no complaints with that claim. In fact, it makes you start laughing. Abanny smiles but gives you a concerned look. The few other trolls present shoot dirty looks towards you.

"That's- that's my band! That's my name! Holy shit!" You're laughing and talking maybe a bit louder than you should. At least two trolls have noticed the logo on your shirt matches the logo on the wall. Maybe they recognized you. Maybe they didn't. You didn't care. You also didn't care about them seeing you with Abanny. No good press group was going to believe some random no-name strangers. So, in your excitement, you scoop Abanny up and spin her around twice, all while laughing, before you set her down. You make sure she has her footing before you properly let go of her.

"That's you, Bru!" She sounded excited, but mostly proud. Hell, you were proud! What had started as a teenage rebellion and a way to vent out frustrations, was now an influential thing that YOU had made. Of course, you'd be nowhere without your girls in your band. Tear welled up in your eyes and threatened to spill. You absently brush them away. A few more trolls had turned to watch you and your moirail. There was small chatter in the air. "Is that…?" "He's so tall…" "why is he crying..?"

You're crying because you proved everyone wrong. Everyone who had ever looked down on you for pursuing your dream. Vivace, your jazz instructor, who told you that your "stupid little punk band" would never go anywhere; Odesea, who had insisted you were better on saxophone and in an orchestra; Boe, who never supported your endeavours in the first place. And everyone else. Being on this wall meant that you touched at least one troll's heart, you made someone out there feel less alone. You had influenced someone, a total stranger, in some way. You couldn't care about the fame, or the money. You made a difference. You did something good.

After texting the band to show them the logo on the wall and talking to a few strangers in the museum, you return hive with Abanny. You scoop her up behind closed doors and hug her firmly- but not enough to hurt. You spend the rest of your time with her talking about Whysteria.

#ghost.art #drabbles #bruuno #bruuno sinopa #sorry for mobile ppl who cant see readmores

8 notes · View notes

blacknovelist · 4 years

Text

sup ok here’s the promised details on uhhhhhh All for One in @guardianlioness‘s and I’s Ageswap Mess, formed by collaborative headcanon jamming on discord and then roughly paraphrased via a run thru the unfortunate Quadruple Lengthening Filter that’s built into my brain bc I’m incapable of being brief.

(something of an expansion on this post and this ask. Nooooot spoiler free, actually pretty spoilers, idk, will pop it under a readmore bc who knows how long I’m gonna go on also)

ALSO!! I can’t at u but @randommly-passing-mia u asked forever ago about Toshinori and AfO’s relationship in this AU and i answered what I could then but I’m pleased to announce this goes more into that bc I knew Very Little back then. :)

So, All for One! Now, I feel it appropriate to note that the previous post I made regarding the history of OfA in Ageswap, as well as just about everything I’ve posted abt AfO and OfA for Ageswap (except for the linked ask above, obv) was made before the arc with the League of Villains and Shigaraki’s backstory all came out. Now that we’ve got some of those contexts, we can go a little further in fleshing everything else out, which we did, a little, today.

Pls keep in mind that Ageswap’s goal is not and never has been to make a direct 1:1 translation of adults to kids and vice versa -- good lord we’d have a lot of empty spaces if we were doing that. So, uh. Anyway. it’s time for “we make a mess of the characters and also the timeline and the plot because it’s Our City Now”

Student AfO is a different creature to small Toshinori of our au. For the purposes of this post we’ll call him AfO, because while I’d love to just jump into referring to him as Shigaraki there’s a lot of confusions that lie down that road. Also, again, we’re calling mr heckhands mcmike Tomura, because Shigaraki is a name with Weight.

Because canon parallels, Ageswap AfO has a little brother who we’re making Kyudai Garaki/the Good Doctor and also quirkless for our purposes (whether he’s AfO’s biological brother is up in the air, we haven’t settled yet). Garaki has something of an intense obsession with quirks, constantly studying and doing research, not unlike Izuku, and the age gap between him and AfO is... about six years. Now, because AfO had already manifested a quirk of his own and that quirk had fearsome potential, One for All was originally going to be passed on to his brother, because before Ageswap Izuku, OfA had strictly been handed down to trained members of the family.

Tomura was a member of the group that had, through the generations, been working to fight against the users of One for All. To hit them where it hurt, he attacked Izuku’s mentor’s (we’ll call them the Mentor) home with a group of League fighters. When he found out there was a quirkless boy, and a second one who was all but quirkless for all that he’d been told to avoid using his own powers, he quickly took them in under the League’s wing -- both in an act of cruelty against OfA and out of some misguided sympathy for the boys.

The fearsome thing is the toxicity of the relationships Tomura formed with the League, and eventually with the boys. He meant well, when he took them in, but whatever this version of him went through... well, just about all his relationships are some level of manipulative and unhealthy by default. See: his tendency for physical closeness and being tactile, as mentioned in the ask.

He’s firmly of an opinion along the lines of “if you’ve got the power, and you know you have the power, and you’re not using it to do whatever you can or want, then why do you even have it?” and, for all of AfO’s childhood, Tomura tried his hardest to share this with AfO and sway the kid to his side. With the Mentor having dropped off the grid and abandoned the Shigaraki name in grief, AfO and his brother had nowhere else to go, but AfO was a smart and cautious kid: he couldn’t just listen without a fight, or a reason.

(AfO didn’t know Tomura meant to kill them, that he attacked their home on purpose. When he eventually finds out, he firmly believes Tomura meant to save them)

But Tomura’s persistent, and he doesn’t stop, and eventually he points out: if All for One is a quirk that allows him to take and give quirks, does that not mean he can seek out the perfect quirk for his little brother? All the reasons he’s suffered, AfO has the power to fix that.

That’s the thing that sways AfO to their side, that convinces him to stay with the League and learn under Tomura. Because if it’s for family, isn’t it worth it?

(AfO sees Tomura as a teacher, as a friend, as someone beloved and important. Shigaraki was AfO’s name, but it can be Tomura’s too, if Tomura wants. Then everyone knows they’re family. And Tomura accepts it -- another spit in the face of an enemy, a welcomed token from a beloved student. Shigaraki is a good name for the rest of the world to use, but Tomura, Tomura is a name for the League and the League alone.)

AfO tries, at first, to find other quirks for his brother while he trains, while his brother studies (while Tomura tries to sway Garaki to their side also, because look at what you know, what you could do with that knowledge, combined with your brother’s quirk, you’re so young and so so smart-). OfA is gone beyond the League’s sight, in the hands of the Symbol of Peace, so there’s no point on dwelling on it, really, surely another quirk would work better?

But then One for All comes back around, in the hands of this blond... nobody. His brother’s quirk, running around in a stranger. AfO continues to hunt potential quirks down for his brother and his brother’s studies, but he has a new goal: to try and claim OfA back and give it to who it really belongs to.

the problem of course being that he can’t take it by force like every other quirk, and killing Toshinori would merely render it lost forever.

Essentially, AfO’s primary grudge against Toshinori is the fact that he’s the current bearer of a quirk that, in AfO’s eyes, should belong to Garaki. And Toshinori’s quirklessness, or past quirklessness... is easy to know when you know the secret of One for All.

Some good stuff gets said abt AfO vs Toshinori in this answer here I think, and I’m drawing on it: Toshinori’s more instinct and heart to AfO’s logic and strategy. That’s not to say, obv, that neither of them draw on the other quality, but it’s what stands out most to me about the two of them and just, kind of their general dynamic (or at least, that’s how it seems).

USJ was a subtle message laid beneath a louder declaration. Two-for-one, if you will. “Wouldn't it be so nice to have a quirk that fit better in your hands? that didn't fritz or go funky whenever you so much as turned your head? A quirk you might not even have to coax and strain and train and change your body for?”

But AfO does not confront Toshinori until much later, until after the sports festival. See, the mall incident in this AU is a scene on bargaining.

He confronts Toshinori at the mall -- his face is not known, and it’s a simple matter to pull him off to the side. But there won’t be fighting here today. No, he only came to talk.

Questions, first. About Toshinori, his experience with One for All, what he thinks of other people’s quirks. About what it was like for him, growing up quirkless, left abandoned by so many people for it. Eventually, his conversation circles back around. I have a little brother. He’s quirkless, just like you. You know what he went through, what he suffered.

All for One even did his research, is even willing to play by rules closer to Toshinori’s own: tucked under his arm is a folder, with lists upon lists of people. Villains with sentences for life, villains under the death sentence, people who would have no life of returning to the world ever again. People who don’t have a reason to use their quirks any longer. People for whom it wouldn’t matter if he took their quirks anyway. “Take your pick,” he offers Toshinori. “I’ll give you whatever quirk you’ve ever wanted. I’ll even take it from a villain so none of your precious civilians have to suffer the loss — but that one belongs to my little brother.”

And, well. We all know he says no.

Why would Toshinori hang onto a quirk that isn’t even his? All the people out there, bearing the quirks that his brother and even his greatest enemy were robbed of at birth, and AfO has the power to grant both Toshinori and Garaki the power that they’d dreamed of, that belongs to them. He knows what it means to suffer without a quirk. Why won’t Toshinori let him fix that?

and idk specifically what Toshi would say, but I think it’s something along the lines of “no one asks for what they're born with or given, but we make the most of it anyway. That's how we're supposed to live.“

Anyway Toshinori and All for One hate each other SO fucking much but. Unfortunately, also just kind of Get Each Other on some level. Like, they despise one another but also, if there’s one thing they can believe in, it’s that the other will always Be The Way They Are. Friendly Enemyship, if you will.

There’s some level of pity that AfO also holds on the percieved coldness of Toshinori’s relationship to his mentor, Izuku. Izuku is... really awkward, in his relationship with Toshi, and while Izuku loves his student very much he has a hard time showing it -- and Toshinori thinks so poorly of himself, it’s hard to grasp how close they are from the outside sometimes. AfO totally tries to recruit Toshinori to their side, even after he figures they’re Tight and also even though he knows Toshinori won’t ever say yes. Like, he hates the guy, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be a kickass ally.

Tomura would like Toshinori and AfO says as much to his face. “You’re more like him than I am, anyway. You can act without overthinking. And he wouldn’t care if you were quirkless. He doesn’t with my brother.”

(Toshinori hates that. He isn’t, he isn’t he isn’t like him at all.)

Tomura has also more or less promised AfO that, at the end of his lifespan, his student should take on Decay. AfO, of course, doesn’t want that and is on the hunt for a good longevity quirk to give to his mentor

In the end, the way All for One is kind of being played in this AU is something not so far off from Anakin Skywalker.

In Lioness’ words:

Noble in his desire to keep his family alive

But horribly misdirected

#Boku no hero academia #BNHA #My hero academia #mha #Ageswap AU #Blacknovelist talks #BNHA AU #BNHA Spoilers #long post #fukc this is long #All for One #AfO #Shigaraki #also technically #Toshinori #yeehaw yall

11 notes · View notes

sherrybaby14 · 5 years

Text

One Night with Number Two

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Pairing: Diego (Number two) x reader (I try my hardest to keep physical traits outside of reader inserts, but for this story you are in your late twenties/early thirties)

Summary: You return to your home town after Reginald Hargreeves dies and your plans to pay your respects don’t go as expected.

Warnings: this story involves NON-CONSENSUAL SEX (but it’s written sort of like dub-con/sex under the influence) but it definitely has consent issues. Smut

Words: 3500

When you heard Sir Reginald Hargreeves passed it was time to head home. While calling the man a dick was an understatement he was part of your childhood and always supported your parents.

The man had particular tastes when it came to everything, including his food, and would only use your father’s butcher shop for any cut of meat. His orders not only kept the business afloat but also put you through college and grad school. Even if he was never nice to you, your family owed his.

Were they even a family? He kept such a tight leash on them, but there was one who always accompanied him when orders were placed or picked up.

“Hi Y/N.” A thirteen-year-old boy ran up to the counter.

“Number two, don’t concern yourself with the proletariat.” Sir Hargreeves tapped his cane. “I need extra steaks this week. Two strips, four filets….”

Reginald continued on with his order, but your eyes glanced to number two. His eyes were wide as he stared right at you. It made you so uncomfortable, you didn’t want to draw any ire from his father.

The memories were like ghosts, surrounding you and playing out right in front of your eyes.

“Hi Y/N.” The voice had dropped, but even at sixteen, he didn’t try to hide the love-sick puppy look. “Want to see a new trick?”

“Umm…can I take your order?” You picked up the pad of paper, still not sure what you ever did to draw Diego’s attention.

You glanced up and screamed as a knife whizzed by your ear. Your entire body shook, unsure if you had been stabbed and couldn’t feel it from shock.

“Number two!” Sir Hargreeves walked in the door. “Nobody likes a show-off. Y/N is not impressed and neither am I.”

“Sorry.” Diego stared right at you, not caring about disappointing his father. “Don’t worry Y/N. I’d never hurt you.”

“Get back to the car Number two.” Reginald turned his attention to the counter. “Today I would like seven chicken breasts, two pork loins…”

You didn’t look or listen to either of them as your body continued to shake with fear.

Of course, there were other times the Hargreeves came into the shop, sometimes Diego would try to make small talk, but you never wanted that either.

“Good afternoon Y/N.” Diego ran right up to the counter. “I missed you the last few times. Were you at school?”

“Yeah.” You nodded and went to grab an order sheet.

“Today is my birthday.” He smiled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m eighteen now, a man.”

“Oh?” You waited for his father to walk in. “Happy birthday.”

“Do you want to go out with me? To celebrate?” His smile grew to show sparkling white teeth.

“No.” You blurted out the answer without thinking.

His smile dropped and he looked at the ground. You felt a pang of guilt, but not enough to change your response.

“Maybe some other time then?” He rolled his shoulders and put on another grin, but you could see the pain behind his eyes.

“Maybe.”

You noticed the pain in his eyes then, but it made you realize he always carried it, pain was life for that man, and you craved a more pleasant experience.

“Y/N.” The door chimed and you looked up to see Diego.

The Umbrella Academy had disbanded, but still, he stayed in the city. Out of all the members he was the one you wished would leave the most.

“Hello.” You grabbed your pencil, ready to take his order and speed along your interaction.

“I heard a rumor, you’re going away to school?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, even though he was twenty now he still had the same mannerisms from his younger days.

“That’s right.” You held your chin high and relaxed your shoulders, not trying to show how freaked you were that he knew.

“Springland has a low crime rate. It’s a good choice. You’ll be safe there.” He dipped his head and locked eyes with you.

A tremor went through you. Not over the stature of the man or what he was capable of, that he knew the city you were headed to and his approval felt more like a threat.

Your parents told you he still frequented their shop and asked about you every time. They never understood why you wouldn’t give the man a chance. They also didn’t understand why you never returned home unless you had to and then avoided working the shop at all costs.

Fear was probably the easiest answer. To them, Diego was a gentleman, but to you, there was always something more sinister beneath.

You had walked passed The Umbrella Academy home millions of times but never stepped foot inside. As you raised your hand to knock you hoped that stayed true. That Pogo would take your condolences and send you on your way, but in your gut, you knew a certain member of the academy wasn’t going to let you get away so easily.

The sound of your knock echoed across the doors. You debated on setting the flowers on the stoop, knowing you weren’t going to knock twice.

When you bent to drop the bouquet the door flung open. You glanced up to lock eyes with a face you hadn’t seen in years.

“Not interested. We’re in mourning right now, are you that insensitive?” Number four popped a hip as you stood up. “Wait, you look familiar. Flower girl?”

“You look like shit.” Again word blurt hit you and you covered your mouth.

His jaw dropped and you watched his glossy eyes try and place you.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that your father just died.” You held out the flowers.

“Klaus who is it?” A melodic voice came from behind him.

“A sassy bitch.” His eyes ran up and down your body. “But someone who actually speaks her mind, unlike anyone else in this hellhole.”

The door pulled open all the way and you sucked in your breath. She was more beautiful in person. Allison Hargreeves had long dropped the nickname Number three.

“Y/N. You look great.” She stepped outside and gave you a hug.

You were shocked she knew your name. In fact, you didn’t think any of them outside of Diego would remember you.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Allison pulled away and you handed her the flowers. “Your father carried quite an impact.”

“Y/N…now I remember, Diego’s little obsession.” Klaus leaned against the doorframe. “I understand why he liked going to the butcher so much, tell us, did he ever get that strip steak he was after?”

“Klaus.” Allison elbowed him and moved to block him. “Ignore my brother. We’re sort of having a little remembrance party inside. Do you want to come in?”

“I’ve gotta get going.” You pointed your thumb behind you.

“Nonsense.” Allison grabbed your hand and pulled you inside. “Everyone will be so excited to see you.”

Even if you wanted to resist she was moving to fast for you to respond. It was an irrational fear, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that as soon as you crossed the threshold you were being led to your doom.

Shouting filled the house. They were muffled by the many walls, but it was undeniable.

“Are you sure this is a party?” You looked back at the door.

“Things between siblings get a little heated at times.” Allison put her arm on the small of your back and guided you forward.

“The only way to survive being a Hargreeves is to party all the time.” Klaus scooped up a bottle of vodka sitting on a random table.

“I can’t stay long.” Run. Get out of here. That was all your brain screamed. “Just a quick hello.”

“In and out.” Allison smiled and nodded.

The shouting grew closer and even though you couldn’t make out the words you recognized one of the voices. Diego was here. It had been ten years since you’d seen each other. He wouldn’t pay the slightest attention to you now. You were sure of it.

Klaus moved ahead and pushed open the door.

“Attention fellow Miserables, we have a guest.” The addict did a bow as Allison walked you into the room.

There was drinking involved, but this did not look like a party. Vanya sat on a couch with her hands folded in her lap. Klaus lay down on another, crossing his ankles. Your vision had no other choice but to look at the center.

Luther was larger than you remembered, but his eyes narrowed on you with annoyance. You weren’t wanted here. You looked to the next person knowing who it would be. Diego’s features went from anger to softness. His eyes widened and lips parted. There was no doubt he remembered you.

“Y/N,” he spoke in a whisper, but the room had grown so quiet it may as well have been a scream.

Everyone was staring at you, but none as intently as Diego. You were that little girl all over again, stuck behind the counter unsure what you had done to draw this attention. You squeezed the bouquet and snapped back to reality.

“I brought flowers.” You held them out. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” Diego took three huge strides and he was right in front of you. “That’s very kind.”

“Why don’t you put them in some water.” Allison was still touching your back.

Diego took the flowers and you dropped your eyes. Thankfully he walked back into the room, giving you an out without having to walk past him.

“I have to leave.” You spun around. “Really, I am sorry.”

Allison placed her other hand on your shoulder and pulled you close. Her lips were right next to your ear.

“I heard a rumor that you want to have sex with Diego all night long.”

The words echoed inside your head and before your mind could even form the word no she had pulled away. Her beautiful face smiled back at you and she gave you a wink.

Luther almost charged at you, making you recoil as he reached out and grabbed Allison.

“What did you do?” He asked through gritted teeth.

“Nothing.” Allison pulled her arm out of his grasp. “Y/N wanted to see Diego and now maybe the two of you can take the night off from trying to kill each other.”

You didn’t really care what they were talking about. All of a sudden you only had one thing on your mind. The siblings continued to squabble behind you, but you walked further into the room, now with a specific target in mind.

Diego walked back from behind the partition, the vase of flowers in his hands. He was clad in all black, dressed for a mission. It accentuated his body and you found yourself fantasizing about what it looked like without the tight clothing.

You pictured rippling muscles on his taut body. It made you like your lips in anticipation of what you hoped was to come.

“Y/N, it’s been a long time.” Diego set the vase on a table as you continued to approach him.

“Too long.” You stopped right in front of him and put your fingers on his chest, needing to touch him.

Diego took a small step back but stopped as his eyes locked with yours. His beautiful browns swirled with confusion. But confusion or not having him look at you sent a wave of heat down your body.

You wanted to rip his clothes off, throw him to the ground, and ride him. The image made you bite back a whimper.

“Are you alright?” Diego rested his hand on your shoulder. “Are they scaring you?”

He looked passed you towards his siblings. Luther and Allison were still fighting about something, but you had blocked them out.

“Can we go somewhere private?” While your desire for the man changed you weren’t sure you wanted him bad enough to put on a show for his siblings unless Diego insisted.

“Yeah.” He looked back at you. “Sure.”

You slid your hand across his chest and moved your body so your head was next to him, his arm flung over your shoulder with the movement.

“I’m sorry you have to see the fighting. Me and Luther, now Luther and Allison.” Diego led you away, through a second door in the back of the room. “It wasn’t how I hoped our reunion would go.”

“You guys don’t see each other often?” You brought your other hand behind Diego and rested it across his back on his hip.

“No.” Diego shook his head. “Enough about me. How have you been? I’m surprised to see you.”

You didn’t want to spend all night talking and tried to think of the best response that was going to land you in bed sooner.

“Well, I’ve been thinking maybe I’ve been away too long.” Your footsteps echoed off the open ceiling as you toured the main corridor. “Maybe it was time to stop fighting and come home.”

“Stop fighting?” Diego laughed. “You’re not a fighter Y/N.”

His arm slipped from around your shoulder. You were in another sitting room. It wasn’t the bedroom you hoped for, but it would do.

“I meant to stop fighting this.” You clasped your hands together as Diego turned to look at you.

One of his eyebrows was raised and his head tilted to the side.

“Fighting this?” He pointed between the two of you. “Y/N, what is going on? I’ve been chasing you since I was a little boy and you’ve never shown the slightest interest.”

“Because I was scared.” You lunged forward and put one hand on his chest and the other around his neck. “But I’m not anymore. When your brother vanished I was terrified that being with you would be dangerous, now I see that there is danger everywhere. And I’m not interested in denying this any longer.”

Diego studied your face. Being so close to him, having him look at you, it filled your body with more need. You clenched your thighs together, certain you were getting so turned on you were going to soak your panties.

“Hmpf.” His shoulders shrugged, but before disappointment could spread his arms were around your waist.

He hoisted you in the air as if you were nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pressed against him as your lips slammed into his.

Both of you opened your mouths at the same time and your tongues started a war for power. You brought your other hand behind his head and smashed him closer and you ground your hips down on him.

The action almost made him fall over but gave you the leverage to take control of the kiss. His tongue was amazing as it worked against yours. But you let out a whine and started rocking your hips, needing more than just a kiss.

“Woah Y/N.” Diego tried to pull his head back, but you kept yanking him forward. “Isn’t this a little fast?”

“I’d say eighteen years is long enough.” You dropped your legs from his waist and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. “I don’t think I can wait for a second longer.”

His shirt was some sort of combat gear and you weren’t going to figure out how to remove it without his help. Lucky for you his lips dipped back to yours and he started undressing.

You decided to echo his movements and took off your own shirt between kisses. Diego grabbed your waist and pulled your forward, kissing your bare décolletage as he kicked his shoes off.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” He nipped at your skin. “Fantasized about this. Dreamed about this.”

“Me either.” In all reality, you’d only wanted this for about five minutes, but those five minutes had been excruciating.

Both of you clumsily undressed, while still trying to touch each other, press your skin to skin, place hard, eager kisses on the other’s body.

Finally, both of you were naked, except your bra. Diego reached around your back and unclipped the clasp. Your mouths found each other again and you continued kissing as the garment slipped away, leaving you totally bare to each other.

“Grrr.” Diego reached out and grabbed your hips, pulling you closer and dragging you to the couch.

He laid you down and you pulled his waist as you spread your legs, wanting him to settle between them, needing his cock deep inside of you.

He moved backward so he was standing over your naked form. There was a deep hunger in his eyes as he took you all in.

Your body was so needy you couldn’t stop wiggling your hips. You held your arms open to him.

“Please. I need you.” You grabbed his wrists. “Please.”

“I want this to be perfect Y/N. As perfect as you are.” Diego licked his lips.

“And I don’t want to wait any longer.” You tugged his arm. “Please, I”ll do anything. I just need you inside me. No more waiting.”

Diego let you pull him down. You spread your legs as he settled between them. You groaned this wasn’t what you wanted. You needed his cock at your entrance, but instead, he kept too much distance as his lips went to your shoulder and hand snaked down your body.

His fingertips felt like fire as they went down your stomach.

“No more teasing.” You whined. “I’m yours. Please, Diego.”

“The things it does to me when I hear you say my name.” Diego dipped further and cupped your pussy. “I’d never hurt you. I need to make sure you’re ready to take me.”

You lifted your head and looked between your bodies. His cock was a monster. Normally you wouldn’t think it possible for your body to handle something so huge, but the sight only flared your excitement.

The more he could fill you the better.

“I’m so empty. Please.” Sweat was starting to cover your body. You dug your fingertips into his hips, hoping you could guide him inside of you.

“Soon baby.” One of his fingers slid inside of you with ease. It wasn’t what you wanted but it was enough to make you arch your back, pressing your chest to his.

“You’re so wet Y/N.” Diego started pumping his finger. “Soaked.”

“For you.” You tried to lift your hips with his movement. “You do this to me.”

Diego let out a growl and removed his finger. Then you felt his head at your pussy, sending desperation through your body. He pushed inside and your muscles tightened on instinct as if you were trying to draw him deeper.

“You have to relax Y/N.” Diego stilled. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You could never hurt me.” You dug your fingers further into his hips, encouraging him to push forward.

He started to slide in and you knew what he meant by not hurting you. Your walls struggled to stretch around his girth, making your breathing go frantic. Again he stopped and whipped the hair off your sticky forehead.

“Relax baby.” He placed a light kiss on your lips. “Let me in.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. Even though your body was in overdrive you took a few breaths and willed the tension out of your muscles. You wanted to be an equal participant in the sex, but Diego needed control for the first portion.

“That’s it.” He kissed your cheek and continued his descent into your pussy. “Oh, you’re so tight Y/N.”

His words made you tense up again, but you were quick to relax. Your body was shaking from desire, the slight burn his cock brought to your pussy, and hearing him give you any sort of praise.

By the time he was into the hilt, you were back to panting, wiggling underneath him, needing more. Instead of moving he pushed his lips to yours and parted them, diving his tongue into your mouth.

You brought your hands up behind his head and pulled him closer. He pulled his cock back a small bit and then re-entered. It made you moan into his mouth.

Each time he left your pussy a little further and slid back with a little more force, but he never broke your kiss.

Soon you found yourself rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, your bodies moving in a perfect dance. The way he was rubbing against you started to turn the desire into desperation. All your want gathered in your core, the fire grew bigger.

You moaned underneath him and he picked up speed. It only fed the flames. You continued moaning, kissing, scratching at his body, unsure you would ever be able to have enough of this man. Until finally the flames ignited into a giant explosion.

Your head fell back with a scream as your toes curled. It was the most intense orgasm of your life. Your walls convulsed around him as Diego let out a grunt and pushed deep inside you one final time, covering your womb in his seed.

“Shit Y/N.” His head was right next to yours. “I should have pulled out. I couldn’t control myself.”

“I’m on the pill.” You didn’t want him to worry about anything.

His head nodded into the couch, he turned to his side and flipped you in the process so he was spooning you, his arm draped around your waist, his fingers running little circles over your skin.

“I never knew you felt the same way…” He kissed your shoulder and you turned your head to look up at him as he rested on his elbow. “All these years we wasted.”

You gave him a reassuring smile, fairly certain if he knew you’d only felt the same way since this evening it would ruin the mood.

“I’ve only ever loved two people. My mom and you.” He brushed a piece of hair out of your face.

You rolled onto your back and reached out, grabbing his face you pulled him down for a kiss. He moved on top of you and was eager to return the gesture.

Love wasn’t something you had given a thought. Right now the only future you cared about was the immediate one, and all you wanted was to have sex with Diego all night.

~~~

The soreness between your legs was the first thing you noticed when you woke. It had been a while and you were sure you were going to walk with a limp. The thought made all sleepiness drain away and your eyes pop open.

You were on a strange couch, being cuddled with an arm across your side. Heavy breathing told you your partner was still asleep.

Dread filled you as you turned to see Diego. What the fuck? How did this happen? But you wanted it to. You wanted nothing more than to spend the entire night fucking him.

Memories of your begging, him trying to get you to take a break, drink some water, but all you could do was try and entice him into sleeping with you again. How many times was it five? Maybe six? How many orgasms did you have?

What was the matter with you? The man terrified you! Why in the world did you want him so badly last night? You had no idea, but right now you knew you had to get out of here and never return. Even though you were begging you never felt so violated.

You stood up and found your pile of clothes. As you slipped on the pants you heard him stir.

“Morning beautiful.” Diego yawned. “You wore me out last night, come back a lie-down.”

You ignored him as you pulled on your bra, unsure you could dress fast enough.

“Y/N, what’s the rush?” You heard him sit up.

Tears started to sting your eyes. How could you have been so out of control? And with him?

“You don’t have to leave.” He was walking over to you.

You got on your shirt just as his hand touched your shoulder.

“GET AWAY FROM ME.” You snapped out of his grip and almost fell.

His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open in horror. You were trying to hold back tears as you picked up your shoes and purse, not bothering to put them on.

“I don’t understand.” Diego grabbed his pants and pulled them on. “Last night, you were…we were…talk to me.”

“I just need to get home.” You ran through the door to the room. Of course, it led to an unfamiliar hallway. “This place is like a fucking maze.”

You didn’t know whether to head left or right. It was like everything was blurry last night and now you were having a hard time focusing.

“Let me drive you.” Diego was hot on your heels.

“I’ll walk.” Shame filled you as you realized you were literally about to do the walk-of-shame.

You started down to your right.

“Y/N. Please.” He reached out again.

“I SAID DON’T TOUCH ME.” You tried to get away from his grasp, but in the process twisted and hit the floor.

He looked down at you with sadness, but you didn’t want him to look at you at all. You turned to stand up again and his features hardened.

“ALLISON,” Diego yelled and took off down the hallway.

“What? It’s early?” Allison appeared in one of the doorways.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Diego yelled in her face.

“I thought you could use some fun.” Allison let out a yawn.

“Does it look like Y/N’s having fun?” Diego pointed toward you.

“It sure sounded like she was last night,” Allison smirked.

You felt sick to your stomach and didn't want to hear the rest of the conversation. You picked yourself up and walked passed both of them, keeping your head down.

“Fix this.” Diego’s voice was almost as scary as he was.

“How?” Allison did not sound like she cared for a moment.

You left the hallway and found yourself back into the main vestibule of the Umbrella Academy. Your heart lurched as you saw the front door. The stairs were around the corner to your left and you wasted no time making your way over there.

“Y/N?” Allison’s sweet voice called from behind you. “Y/N, wait!”

You didn’t understand what happened but had a feeling that you didn’t want to know. All you wanted was to get out of this house. You broke into a sprint, arms outstretched ready to pull open the door. Your hand was on the knob and you gave it a tug, only for a hand to appear next to your head slamming it shut.

Before you could let out a cry a voice whispered in your ear:

“I hear a rumor that you’re deeply in love with Diego and never want to leave him.”

The sentence vibrated inside of you and a warmth spread through your veins. Why were you running again?

“Y/N, baby?” Diego jogged down the stairs, pulling his shirt over his head. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” You blinked away the confusion. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Hey, you’re fine.” Diego pulled you into a hug. You practically melted against his chest, never feeling safer in your life. “Let’s get you back to bed though. I think we could both use some sleep.”

That sounded like heaven and you nodded your head. This was exactly where you were supposed to be, cuddled in his embrace. Safe. Loved.

“You’re welcome.” Allison’s voice carried a snide tone.

“Diego?” You looked up at him.

“Yeah, baby?” He cupped your cheek.

“Have I told you I love you?” The words sounded so right.

“Hmmm.” He squeezed you tight. “I’ve known you loved me for a long time now, it’s nice to hear you admit it to yourself.”

You sighed and let him lead you back into the house. You were so lucky to have a man who knew you so well.

#the umbrella academy #umbrella acedemy fanfic #deigo hargreeves #diego hargreeves x reader #diego x reader

891 notes · View notes

laughingpinecone · 4 years

Text

Trick or Treat 2020 letter!

I am laughingpineapple on AO3

Hello dear author! I hope you’ll have fun with our match. Feel free to draw from general or fandom-specific likes, past letters, and/or follow your heart.

All requests are art or fic - for art, the stuff I like is the kind that depicts the characters doing something. I’ll always be happier with a very simple drawing of two characters walking together or sharing a cup of coffee than with an ambitious composition that looks like an Avengers poster. I also enjoy seeing them wear different clothes, getting a feel of what their fashion sense is like beyond their canon outfit(s).

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic, hurt/comfort or just comfort from the ample canon hurt, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, canon-adjacent tropey plots, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploration of secondary bits of canon, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played straight, sensory details, sickfic, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships), emphasis on inhuman traits of characters who were human once and have sort of shed it all behind

Cool with: any tense, any pov, any rating, plotty, not plotty, IF, nerdy canon references, unrequested characters popping up.

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay!), canon retellings, consent issues

Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles: Hurdy

I love the game’s world and all the little stories and legends that fill it. Great atmosphere, great lore, so if you feel like getting a little worldbuildy and indulging in the scenery and its story, please do! A focus on the sense of camaraderie in a caravan would also be great (like people could do on Gamecube.....). Hurdy’s a bit of an odd duck for that theme, but maybe he hitched a ride at some point? With whom? Amidatty or De Nam maybe, among the nominated characters? I love the whole cast so anyone goes. Do they travel together enough for them to cotton onto the weirdness of the whole Gurdy situation? Got any run-in with Lady Mio? Or what’s his status after the miasma is lifted, can he go back to Tipa, can he/they begin to heal? What does healing even look like for him and Gurdy?

Ghost Trick: Cabanela

You know.. him. Dazzlingly OTT, untiring, rock-solid self-esteem, loyal to a fault, following a rhythm of his own, flawless intuition until it fails and it all burns down... him. I just want to see more of him doing stuff! The way he’s chill and open toward new people (like Sissel and Missile in ch15) makes him perfect to throw at most other characters and see how they react to the sparkles... I’d love some focus on how ridiculous his aesthetic is, half Saturday Night Fever half hardboiled detective half bubbly preteen (for a total of 150%) and yet he makes it work. Or how ruthless he can be, possibly for the sake of the people he cares for. The quote “The intimacy of big parties”. Him and Alma in the new timeline bonding over knowing (once Jowd has spilled the beans) but not remembering that terrible timeline. Some tropey scenario on the job. Snark-offs with Pigeon Man, by which I mean PM snarks and it bounces off him like water off a spotless white goose’s back. Dreaming Sissel but he’s strange... and wrong?

Ship-wise it’s only Cabanela/Jowd whenever it’s not infidelity, Cabanela/Alma in what-ifs and Cabanela/Alma/Jowd for me (and Lynne/Memry and Yomiel/fianSissel on the side). There are a bunch of shippy prompts in all my past letters - I would however reiterate here that Jowd. is. the worst tease. always.

Conversely, Cabanela/Lynne and Cabanela/Yomiel are NOTPs especially from Cabanela’s side. So while I appreciate the thick tension of a good Yomiel VS Cabanela confrontation like everyone and their cat, and also really appreciate a roughed-up Cabanela, and I do love Yomiel in his own right... I don’t want Cabanela being into it. Adrenaline junkie he may be but this hurts and his coat’s a mess and there’s no perfect winning scenario so he hates every second of it. (JOWD being into it is another matter altogether and he should probably mind his own business)

Kentucky Route Zero: Carrington, Cate

Act after act, intermission after intermission, I somehow didn’t see the arts rising to such a dominant theme in KRZ and it’s stuck with me since the ending finally hit. It’s great and moving. So! Who better than good ol’ antler man to linger in those feels! Carrington’s playwright adventures or Carrington&anyone you fancy, either way I’d listen to him ramble for a week and I would like to know more about his big dramatic plans. Or maybe him helping someone, more or less accidentally, by offering his unique takes? Overriding my “no canon retellings” DNW for a hot second, did he ever figure out what was going down in the Death of the Hired Man (or Nap of the Hired Man as the case may be) interlude?

For Cate, I’m mostly interested in two things: life on the river and mushrooms. Maybe both! The Echo river ecosystem is intensely fascinating to me as opposed to life on the surface and life on the Zero, and yet all these environments are permeable. So what’s a moment in her daily life that encapsulates the river? Someone they picked up on the Mammoth, a strange island that popped up at some point? Cate&Will bonding extremely welcome, I’m love Will. And then there’s the mushroom hunting. I don’t know much about mushrooms, but I do know that they’re cool. Cate seems to agree, so if you’ve got a story or pic in you about her and them mushrooms, I’d love to see it.

Pyre: Volfred Sandalwood

This is a Volfred solo, Volfred&literally anyone or Volfred/Tariq, /Oralech or /Tariq/Oralech request. If &Manley or &Brighton, I am not interested in more lenient takes on their characters than canon’s. fwiw I also enjoy Jodi/Celeste and Bertrude/Pamitha a lot!

I feel deeply for all of Pyre’s main themes - literacy, degrees of freedom, the fragile time that is the end of a historical cycle, nobodies rising up to the occasion, building a better society, and of course found family, “distance cannot separate our spirits” and all that jazz, and Volfred is squarely rooted at the center of all of them. Just please tell me things about my fave. His relationship to the Scribes (as a historian, a some kind of vision, via *ae or once he’s a star himself)? A ‘forced vacay’ Downside ending where he looks at the Union from afar and keeps living in this strange transformational place? Life in a cramped Blackwagon that was meant for like 5 people tops and is currently eight Nightwings, a herald and an orb? Since he picked him for the job to begin with, does he respect and cherish Hedwyn as he dang well should? What does it feel like to try and Read a herald? Was he ever in danger, in the Commonwealth or in the Downside? Does he puff up as prime minister because he’s nervous, and who can see past his hyper-professionalism and lend a hand? Please roast him big time about the votes he assigns to the various Nightwings in his planner? What’s his attitude toward the flame’s purification (what with being a tree but mostly like, as a general concept. He did nothing wrong!) (well he definitely said some things wrong and sometimes oftentimes the ego jumps out, but his intentions did nothing wrong)? When did his calculating approach fail him? Something with Pamitha along the lines of that edit that goes “Can we talk, one ten to another?"/"I am an eleven, my girl, but continue."? btw that ‘emphatically yes xeno’ from my general likes is only applicable here I guess so: emphatically yes xeno to both shippy interactions at all ratings and to gen explorations of what a Sap is like...

Shenmue: Qiu Hsu, Xianzi Bei

Cormorants... kung fu... cormorant kung fu. They turned out to be my faves in a very likeable cast and I’d love to see either or both of them slice-of-life-ing it up in Niaowu, or anywhere up or down the river. The rest of the cast is welcome to join! Did Ren end up at Liu He Hall for whatever reason, or did Shenhua chat up a cormorant, as she does? Id love to see a spookier mood too! Ghost story time in Liu Jiao shrine maybe?

The Silver Case: Catherine, Kodai Sumio, Kuroyanagi Shinko, Kusabi Tetsugorou, Macalister Edo, Morishima Tokio

I‘m all for the surrealism, big things being introduced and never picked up again, Rashomon’ing it up with six explanations for the same thing where no single one can be true, people dying and then popping up again like nbd... maybe the thing I like the most is characters transcending their humanity and looming over the dystopian world like ominous avatars. Correctness’ first ending had me swooning, that kind of mood is unparalleled. I have played TSC, FSR and 25W so far and have vague memories of K7. I’m aware of the “everything’s connected” readings but that’s not my main interest in these games. Mainly I see Lospass as a real island but also a metaphysical place of transformation first and foremost, where strange things happen that don’t make sense elsewhere, but I’m good with anything that works for your story! There are a few & prompts for these fine folks in my Press Start letter [here].

For Catherine, I’d love to see something along the lines of her YAMI appearance, on Lospass on her own or hanging out with another character of your choice (or Tokio again). Sumio leaves me at a loss for words... if you’ve played 25W, maybe an expansion of his [intense ethereal whooshing] moment? He’s a gust away from vanishing from existence altogether... &Sakura and/or &/Tetsu if you want. Or his time in prison or a return to Lospass or whatever’s going on with that one, really. For Shinko I’m itching for different team-ups! Throw her at anyone you like and see what happens! FSR-era Tetsu could be cool, or off-the-grid Tetsu, or Tetsu&anyone... as for Edo, I’d be curious to see his pov on anyone and anything! WAS the Flower Sun and Rain the friends we met along the way? And Tokio... oh Tokio. Something about older Tokio and his gaggle of tulpas (Slash and whatshisface from YUKI who looks suspiciously like YAMI Tokio himself?)? Any...thing...about any part of his life from Lifecut onwards? Any portentous encounters?

#here we go again!#letter

1 note · View note

hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

Text

Part 17: Interruption

Ahead, there's the tall engraved wall standing alone with the words Reunion Tower as big as your head. The words are also large on the building which has metallic accents, glass windows, glass walls, and glass doors. It's somewhat reminiscent of Erik's hidden house back in Cali now that you think of it.. if it were dropped in the middle of the city and a tower were placed on top. Take away the fields of green grass and the towering trees. Maybe that's why you seemed so much more excited than he did. He was aready used to it.

Inside, the lights pop even brighter than before. There's the fat, round silver-colored column with diamond cutouts and it glows neon blue on one side, purple on another, and orange on the other. The pink neon light flowing from the ceiling bleeds into the purple lights while the adjacent white ceiling lights bleed into the blue. On top of that, there's lime green to your right. It's a panorama of color.

"Look at you, easily impressed. Smile big my nigga." When you turn, he's got his phone in the air. Again. "Stand by that column over there. That light on your skin finna look cool as shit... Aight tilt your chin down and turn three centimeters to the left. That's four, come back one. Perfect."

"Stupid. Let me see." Looking over his shoulder, you watch as he flips through the photos. "Send me the ones from before too, I wanna send them to Ava and Toni. They said show them how the dresses look."

"Sending them now."

Group by group the pictures arrive in your text thread and you save them making a note to self to send them when you reach the hotel. You'd do it now, but you're ready to go. Now that you got the photos from him, you can send them whenever you want. For now, it's time to go eat because the last thing you ate was a snack and before that you'd only eaten once. Erik's inner fatboy has reared his head a couple times since then.. though in this moment, he's calm.

"Feed me Seymour," you yell beating him to it. You pull on the arms of his slim fitting navy pinstripe suit. He's dressed smartly with his black shirt, silver jewelry, and black oxfords. Of course he had to be like you with the black to match, you hadn't missed the gesture either time.

"I'm trying." He pulls you in the direction of the hot pink lights and you take your hand back to store the phone away in your clutch before following free from his hold. The elevator this time takes you to a floor with a red, tan, and black theme. There're red flower arrangements conveniently placed and even a red lit fountain with coins at the bottom of the shallow clear water representing the wishes of passersby. Digging in your clutch, you have a few coins from the change you got on the first day in Houston when you'd bought the both of you that food. Tossing the penny, you close your eyes and wish for a raise on your job. You already have a list of upgrades to your apartment you'd make. The showerhead. A new comforter. A security camera perhaps. Maybe another lock for the door.

Erik leads you into Five Sixty, a restaurant by Wolfgang Puck, and you look around briefly at the other people sitting and eating primly at their tables, the clang of silverware mingling with the chatter. A waiter in black and white passes in front of you drawing your attention to the magnificent view through the floor to ceiling glass windows lining the walls ahead. There's the cityscape and bright lights against a dark sky. It's the same view as before but it's even better because everything is amplified against the night.

"Wait, we sitting back here?" You look between Erik and the concealed booth he stands beside in a way that communicates your discontent. You didn't get all dressed up and fine to haul your cookies to this tower and hide in the back! "This is a new dress," you lean forward to whisper with a threat in your tone. You don't care that the waiter is there averting his eyes uncomfortably. "I didn't put this on to not be seen... They gone see me.. THIS.. tonight!" You smooth the thigh-length black lace dress with sheer lace sleeves and lace cutouts in the bodice that's hugging you just right. It's the same dress that made him go gaga and now he wants to deprive others of the vision? Oh no. On your feet are the strappy black heels and you use them to turn around looking for another empty table.

"Ay, come here! You are beautiful, that's true... You fine. Still, this is more private than sitting in the middle of the restaurant. I just wanted us to have some space.. to talk." Right, 'talk'.. that's code for hanky panky. You literally just did that. Aren't you tired? "Thanks," he eyes the waiter slapping his hand and you wonder how much money he slipped into it as the guy walks away. Erik gestures to the booth for you to slide in. It's concealed by a little wall and faces the window while he sits across from you facing the restaurant that's hidden from you. It's like being in a private room. There's even a fresh red floral arrangement on the table along with lit white candles, none of which were on the other tables. This.. This was thought out ahead of time. When did he call?

"I.. guess.. it's not.. so bad," you shrug watching the subtle tension in his shoulders drop. He's relieved and you can tell by the ghost of a smirk on his lips.. light dancing in his eyes. "Plus these flowers are beautiful," you add watching him tilt his face away modestly. Watching him shift his attention to the menu, you do the same.

"Get what you want. Whatever you don't eat, just take it out."

"I know the drill." He doesn't have to tell you, you already know the routine at this point. He won't be happy until you spend a couple hundred. He's got so much money it's burning a hole in his pocket. You could think of better ways to spend it.

Still. Being pampered is not a bad thing every once in a while. It's not like you get this type of sugar daddy treatment often.

"What are we having," the waiter asks on his return looking to Erik and then you. He reveals a bottle of wine with Gaja Ca Marcanda written on the label, pouring two glasses.

"Thank God it's not Hennessy," you think aloud watching Erik's brows knit in humor.

"I should've got you some Hennessy. That's right.... Y'all niggas got Hennessy?" The waiter shakes his head and you cringe.

"Erik, stop. Don't nobody like the taste of gasoline but you." You decide to just start pointing to whatever you think is good. "Tamarind glazed baby back ribs, pork belly pot stickers, szechuan Beef Filet Au Poivre, and the tempura shrimp and crab roll."

"I'll take the roasted free range half chicken and pot stickers sound good. I'll take those too." Erik hands over his menu and you glare at him as you fork your menu over but he's not looking. He would order less than you. Doesn't matter anyway.. you'll still crush that food when it comes. "You up for another round of tame that anxiety? If so, I have something I want you to do."

"Boy I'm drinking my wine, I'm not messing with you." You take a sip and set your glass back down ignoring him as he leans forward trying to catch your eye. "Mm-mm, nope.... Move," you swipe deterring his hand from trying to touch yours. None of that smooth shit.

"I'm right here what's gone happen? Besides, you know I know how to calm you down."

Heads Will Roll plays loudly over the theme park speakers as you speedwalk away hoping no one will recognize you or point you out to their friends and family as the running joke while you search for a ride that's BBW friendly and NOT the Skycoaster.

"Erik, move... Come on stop," you push at him when he stands in your way like it's a joke.

"Why you running? Ain't like you getting shot at. Ain't no one after you, look." He kisses his teeth as you pass him. "You so embarrassed.. You won't see any of these people again."

"Yeah well anxiety doesn't necessarily run on common sense." You grab your flip flops from his hand and slip them on. He'd had you walking around barefoot like a Flinstone because he'd been too slow to catch up. He didn't get it.

"Obviously.... Come this way," he nods walking left. He turns walking backwards as you peek around him to see the bathrooms in that direction. That's an idea you can get behind, a quick bathroom break to escape the faces of the crowd until you could return to rational thinking. Too bad it smells like eight tons of gorilla ass.

"This is the women's restroom," you freeze, blocking Erik's path inside. Man it stinks. You can't stay in there. His face twists getting a whiff and he backs off quickly holding the back of his hand to his nose, pulling you with him. So much for escaping into the bathroom. Suddenly he pulls you into a cut and you speedily look around for anyone who could be seeing the two of you. It doesn't seem that anyone's paying attention. You could've sworn someone would've been looking. There's a small space behind the bathrooms just wide enough for one and a half of one of you to fit through at a time. You're pushed in first and Erik towers behind you. It seems private like no one would or should be back here, a theme park blind spot. Suddenly you have the urge to bring this to the park owners' attention. They need security cameras too.

"I feel like someone's gotten molested back here.. or something dark and unsavory," you whisper.

"Anyway." His thick arm snakes around your waist while the other cradles your head against his solid chest, his fingers massaging your scalp through your afro. Clinging to his body, you let your shoulders drop. "Relax and when I say breathe I want you to inhale deeply through your nose for a count of four then exhale slowly through through your mouth for a count of five. The goal is to breathe deeply to your abdomen. Okay?

Now breathe.

In, 2, 3, 4... Out, 2, 3, 4, 5.

Again. In, 2, 3, 4... and out, 2, 3, 4, 5.

How do you feel," he whispers and you close your eyes, your ear against his chest listening to his even heartbeat and naturally husky voice.

"I understand anxiety, Y/N... the navy will definitely do it to you. But it's unhealthy stress that takes a toll on your mind and body and that means.. health is relaxing both."

Your eyes pop open looking at the wall beside you when the hand on the back of your head lowers drops moving to your thigh and crawling under your red kimono and up into your panties. He's got a surprise coming. His finger slides slowly along your outer lips slipping between.

"Always wet," he whispers before his thick finger sinks into you and on your sharp intake of air he tells you to breathe.

"In.. 2, 3, 4," he counts as your chest continues to rise. The slick feeling of his finger rotating and pressing inside of you is all you want to focus on. "Out, 2, 3, 4, 5," he directs and you feel a second finger push in, stretching slowly and gently finding its place.

"Did I say moan?" The arm around your waist goes ghost and you feel a firm smack on your butt.

"Did I SAY moan," he repeats, his fingers still working skillfully.

"No," you moan, your voice unexpectedly meek. Another firm smack comes and then another. And another, his low chuckle so subtle it's like you've imagined it.

"You still moaning. And you breathing hard. Did I tell you to do that?" Another smack comes and you're close.

"No, Daddy," you whine. His grip comes on your asscheek tightly.

"Then why I still hear you? We controlling our breathing right now.. Aht," he brushes your hand from his half-mast bulge. You had a theory he wouldn't be so calm and quiet if the tables were flipped. "I remember when you were scared to moan now I can't stop you," he muses.

"I wasn't scared."

"Yeah you were but I made you feel good didn't I? You still came. Breathe in, 2, 3, 4.. Out, 2, nope start over. You still breathing hard."

It's his motions. His thick curled fingers plus the addition of his thumb rubbing your clit is making your breathing ragged.

"Control it this time. In, 2, 3, 4.. Out.."

You gasp. The feeling is building in your stomach and you keep inhaling in the middle of the exhale.

"I'm coming," you whisper seconds away from erupting on his fingers.

"Not if you don't breathe. Do it right and you can cum."

You whine quietly unsure if you can control it.

"You can do it, angel. Breath deeply in, 2, 3, 4. Steady through your mouth, 2, 3, 4. Good girl, cum on my fingers. Go 'head cum."

You already have and for a second you get chills, trembling, but it subsides. He releases you and your dress falls back down as you look up at him, relaxed.

"You ready to go back out?"

Erik smirks across the table having successfully triggered your memory and you send him a glare that this time he can clearly see.

"Aight so what you gotta do is go to the middle of the floor next to that table with the bl--"

Bl--? Blonde? Blowfish? Black? What is he staring at? You start to look back too but he grabs your hand shaking his head in a way that shushes you and brings more questions.

"Get down," he mouths soundlessly scooting closer to the wall and lowering his head and then you hear it. A loud bang followed by a scream, the slam of dishes, and the scoot of chairs. Frantically, you search Erik's face for clues of what's happening and his dark eyes are trained on the scene behind you as he holds his head in a particular way so not to be seen. He points to you and the table and you don't waste time getting under it. There's only enough room for one person, but now you're at an angle to see him pull a small gun from inside of his blazer. There was a pocket for it in the lining. You see him cock the gun and then it rests in his hand in wait, pointed away from you. How did he get that through airport security though?! What the hell is going on? It doesn't make sense and a thousand thoughts rush you at once.

The screaming continues but you only counted three shots through all of the chaos and noise as people scurry to escape and evacuate.

Should the two of you be running? Aren't you sitting ducks? How did Erik even bring that gun? Or did he pick it up when he got to Houston? Was that why he left you at the hotel alone? Why did he think he'd it? Does he always have a gun just on him for no reason? Was he anticipating something like this? Is he just paranoid and then something actually happened to cement the paranoia like with you in college? Should you be concerned? Who the hell is shooting in a restaurant?! Guess it wouldn't be Texas without guns. Will you really be safe here? Will Erik? It feels like forever under the table as you're cramped and folded and you have severe goosebumps, your heart pumping fast, every sound an alert. You're suddenly reminded of your phone and you pray no one calls it. The crowd seems to be gone but there's still noise. Small sounds. Shuffling, footsteps, low grunts, and zips. It's only after you don't hear anything for about five seconds that you notice Erik's foot move.

Instantly, you grab it bending your head and putting a crook in your neck to look up at him through the gap between him and the table. You shake your head when you catch his eye.

"Don't you dare," you mouth. You can feel he's about to dash off to play hero and get himself killed so you hold his leg more tightly. Just because he has military experience doesn't make it his job to confront a shooter. You refuse to let him go even when he mouths the words 'let go'. With a grip on his leg, you listen as the low sounds of footsteps retreating finally stop. Erik who has the visual doesn't look away from where his eyes have been fixed until almost a minute has passed. This time when he moves, you let him go and he walks away toward the main dining area, looking around you assume before bursting into the kitchen. "They gone," he says. You have to strain to hear but then there're two more voices. When you peak out, there's Erik with two employees who look nervous. You grab your clutch and climb from under the table on your way to stand behind Erik.

"Are you guys okay," the southern woman asks looking around as if the shooters might return. The guy with her seems too shaken to speak outside of echoing the woman here and there. "I-I called the police they should be here any minute if you all wanna wait. There's coffee back here.. tea.." She looks past Erik to the floor and when you look and see the blood smeared there, you both look away from it simultaneously. "I just don't understand," she sighs looking genuinely perplexed. "Why bring that street beef or whatever it is in here? There are families that come here." She looks disgusted and Erik looks like he's really trying to get out of here.

"We're gonna take off. We were just hiding out waiting for the shooters to leave. Safe to say the night's been ruined," Erik replies grabbing your hand and guiding you to the door. The two of you decide to take the steps, that way you have more control in case anything happens. Luckily, you don't run into anyone. "Order the car to take us back to the hotel," he says before you leave the staircase. "Let's be safe and wait here just in case."

As the uber pulls off, you see the police rolling up but you guys are already on the road.

"You aight," he asks looking to you and when you think about it, you're safe and nothing happened to you thankfully. However... he made you worry! What was going through his mind to want to confront murderers?

"Erik, what were you thinking? You were really gonna play hero? Do you realize if I hadn't stopped you from jumping out there, you could be dead? Have you even considered what that would do to me?"

"I know I must've scared you. I'm sorry for that. You absolutely right, you saved me from making a big mistake tonight and I appreciate you for that."

---

He'd seen the entire scene play out from beginning to end and was gauging the ideal time to step in and shoot the colonizing muhfukas who'd ruined the goddamn evening. He knew this hadn't been a regular shooting. Nah, this was a hit and going by the appearance of the body they'd taken.. young black man, short locs, muscular build.. He had a feeling they'd taken out the wrong guy. It was only a matter of time before they realized and he had to act before then. If only he could've followed them, he'd be lit but he couldn't abandon Y/N.

Still, she was right. If she hadn't stopped him from stepping out, he'd have killed both colonizers and there would've been three bodies. She'd have then viewed him as a killer and outside of being scarred for life, she'd have left his lying ass forever and rightfully so. If she hadn't been there at all, he'd of popped the two employees as well leaving five bodies since they'd of seen him shoot the other two. Her presence was saving lives and ain't nobody know it.

Now that he had the element of surprise and a lead, it was the perfect time to strike but he couldn't fuck it up this time. Again, his pride was on the line and now that Y/N had almost gotten involved in the bullshit, it was definitely time to get her outta there asap.

"Whoever on security tonight, they ass definitely getting fired," he deadpanned in an attempt to lighten the mood. She wasn't having it.

"Don't ever scare me like that again. You're not the police and you're not the terminator," she stated so firmly he knew not to fuck with it. He just nodded.

"You absolutely right." The rest of the ride to the hotel was relatively quiet with her laying on his chest, his fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp to calm her down. Walking through the lobby to the elevator was just as quiet until he broke the silence with a thought that'd been running though his mind since she'd scolded him. "You'd think you'd be the one to lose your composure, but it was me," he mused. "I ain't see that coming."

"I think I'm rubbing off on you," she chuckled wryly. He wanted to combat that thought, but when he really thought about it... she was. Ever since he'd gotten involved with her, he'd been crazier than usual, more prone to rookie mistakes, more emotion-driven instead of logic-driven. He barely recognized himself. This wasn't something that should happen at this juncture of his career or mission. He was fuckin up and if he continued to fuck up he wouldn't be the only one paying the price.

When they arrived in the room, he asked her to head back downstairs and buy them both food handing her a one hundred dollar bill and packing her bags in her absence. He figured take-out would be a bit of a wait time since it was dinner hours and he was right. By the time she got back, her return flight time had been changed and her bags were against the wall near the closet. She sat the plastic bag of plastic containers on the table and unpacked the items, dividing them up by which item belonged to who. She'd even brought bottled drinks. Pulling the utensils from the bag, she placed them on top of a container that held a bigass steak. He took it gently from her hand setting it on the bed next to him.

"I just got what I thought you might want," she shrugged unwrapping a straw to put in one of the drinks, handing it to him. That was when she happened to look left and see her bags packed on the wall. He stared at the bags, looking for his and not finding it before looking back to him, realization dawning on her. "We're going back tomorrow?" She was trying to keep the emotion from her voice but it had already flashed in her eyes.

"You're going back tomorrow," he clarified knowing full well she got it the first time. "But I'll follow you in a few days or so don't worry." Instant relief in her eyes, but then they got suspicious and he had to brace himself to dodge any verbal traps she'd try to set.

"I thought you were done with the responsibilities you came here for with your job. What did they even want you to do? You've been with me almost the whole time."

"It's been two days... I didn't have to report anywhere today so I dedicated it to us, but there are a couple of events I want to attend before I leave and it would be a waste if I didn't. You, however, have no more reason to be here and it seems to be getting dangerous in these streets. I want you back home for now."

"Dangerous? That was one coincident that had nothing to do with us. It's just as dangerous in Cali."

Somehow I doubt that.

"Naaah... Baby, I'd feel much better if you weren't in Houston after what I saw today. That's final. Flight's changed to 2 AM so after you eat you got a few hours to sleep and change.. bags are already packed. Go straight to my place when you get back and just wait for me. Use the car, pool, I don't give a fuck, but don't go to your apartment. I still need to check it out before you do."

"Okay, I know I'm paranoid... But you are PARANOID. Seriously? You're not coming?" She wasn't satisfied. She wanted her way, but he couldn't give it to her. "If Houston is as dangerous as you say it is then your well being is more important than some little event wouldn't you say so? So change your ticket too or we both staying here because I'm calling bullshit! What else is here? You already told me about your subs, what you got to hide?! What could possibly be keeping you here that you don't want me to see?! It gotta be wild since I've already seen you FUCK ANOTHER GIRL. WHAT IS IT ERIK?! WHAT ARE YOU HIDING?"

He stared at her like she'd lost her damn mind and he was trying to figure out when she'd find it. She stared back before returning to the food on the table. When she turned back, she was calm.

"My bad. I just don't get why I gotta go," she shrugged. He blinked a few times at her quick change in demeanor and she sighed heavily.

"It's okay... You've been through a lot of emotions today..."

"Yeah but I shouldn't blow up on you. That's a YOU move. It's not like it's your fault, you just want me to be safe... I get it. I just think you should worry about yourself too."

"...I feel you," he nodded. He had to borrow a page from handling Shay and Jaliyah. "And I appreciate your concern, but Y/N you getting ya ass on that plane and that's an order."

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered grabbing her container and plasticware. She sat in the chair at the table to eat and he stood to plant a kiss on her cheek before returning to the bed. He opened his own container and used the tall plastic straw sticking from the bottled lemonade to take a drink. She was too sweet for him to keep being so damn selfish. She definitely had to go.. for now.

---

A night flight alone to Cali. All there is to do, is sleep on the plane.

Erik had carried your things to the point where the two of you had to split, then he'd handed them over to you and nodded you on. It was all very quick and you were sleepy having gotten to the airport early just in case.

The sight through the window is black and there are lights on the ground but you don't really feel like looking, you're ready to close your eyes.

The little vacation with Erik was fun and so was seeing a completely different side of him, but now it was time to get back home. Well, his home...

Wait, he'd said. For the time being, you'll have to. The question to you now however, is for who? Who knows which Erik he'll be by the time he gets back. You can never tell with him. It's because he has more moods than a mood ring. More faces than Mr. Potato Head. For all you know, he could come back with a whole other woman expecting you to be cool with it. You just don't know what you'll get with him. Wait..

"Damn." You forgot to send the pictures of you and Erik to Ava and Toni. You didn't even get to see them again before you left. Kissing your teeth, you sigh and close your eyes again. You'll do it when you get to Erik's. Suddenly your eyes pop open and a smile spreads across your lips. You have his giant beautiful home all to yourself. You can use his things, smoke his weed, jump on his bed, wear his clothes, spray his cologne, eat his food, and explore as much as you want and he can't say a thing... Yes!

This might actually be the true vacation.

@muse-of-mbaku @imaginewhoever @goddessofthundathighs @panthergoddessbast @thadelightfulone @misspooh @marvelmaree @youreadthatright @forbeautyandlife @theunsweetenedtruth @bidibidibombaclaat @myboyfriendgiriboy @dameshaemonique @blackpantherimagine @vikkidc @hidden-treasures21 @mysidefanting @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @syndrlla97 @winteroflife @thotyana-in-this-hoe @texasbama @gingerylimonte @princessstevens @magic-madness-heavensin @wawakanda-btch @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @wakanda-inspired @blackgirloneshots @thegucciwaffle @thiccdaddy-mbaku @drsunshine97 @purplehairgawdess @trevantesbrat @indigoxsummers @cccccx1 @dynastylnoire @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @fonville-designs @they-call-me-le @theblulife @raysunshine78 @sheisexcellent @blackpinup22

#will add tag list #house rules #original #erik killmonger #erik stevens #killmonger #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik stevens au #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger x reader #erik x reader #erik killmonger smut #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens x you #killmonger smut #killmonger fanfiction

161 notes · View notes

dogbearinggifts · 5 years

Text

Secret Alphabets

Umbrella Academy: Klaus/Dave

Author’s note: After reading this awesome post calling attention to Dave’s obvious infatuation in the club scene, I thought about it for a while, especially about Klaus as the object of desire, the one being pined for rather than the one doing the pining (which, as @greenandhazy points out, is quite the departure from what we usually see when a main character meets their love interest. So, that’s what informed this oneshot here.

Also tagging @lovinglydiego—if I tagged the wrong blog, let me know and I’ll change it.

“So there I was, chocolate pudding all over my cheeks, all up my ass crack, and all I could think was God, I am so fucking hungry right now.”

Dave laughed. Not the insincere laugh of a pseudo-friend waiting to see how useful he’d wind up being, not the silence and rolled eyes of his siblings—a real one that tipped his head back toward the ceiling. Klaus had been smiling before, but he found himself laughing too.

“So what’d you do?”

“Waited for it to dry, peeled it off.” Klaus took a sip of his drink. Alcohol didn’t quite keep the ghosts at bay, not as well as drugs did, but it could quiet them enough to hear his own thoughts. “And let me tell you, that is not something I’d wish on…okay, maybe I’d wish it on a few people.”

Dave laughed again. “No, I mean, did you?”

“Did I….oh! Did I eat chocolate pudding off my own ass?”

“Yeah. You said you were hungry.”

“Nope. I learned an important lesson that day.”

“Which is?”

He took another sip. “That I do have standards after all.”

“Really.”

From Luther or Allison, that would have been an insult, a small verbal slap to remind him that what he’d said was a lie. But from Dave, it was the same sort of good-natured jab he might level at any other soldier in their platoon. “Sure I do! I mean, they’re low, but I’ve got ‘em.”

“Well,” Dave said, leaning against the wall, “glad they’re not too high.”

Klaus’ stomach fluttered, then twisted. Three different responses, ranging from flirtatious to borderline pornographic, popped into his head, but he didn’t dare voice any of them. Not for any uncertainty on his part—the looks Dave had given him, the ease with which he’d linked his arm through his, the way he stood close enough that Klaus could feel the warmth of his skin through his sleeve, left little doubt toward Dave’s preference. He could retort with any of the three quips he’d thought of—or the far filthier fourth one he’d just come up with—and had a feeling Dave would reply in kind.

That was the problem.

Klaus knew he’d let the silence go on too long, filled though it was by the music and mingled hum of dozens of conversations and dancing feet. Part of him would have been content to stand there beside Dave, feeling the closeness of him and drawing comfort from it, but he’d a hunch that any more silence would invite Dave to fill it with a more overt remark than his last.

“Still no word from home?”

Klaus gazed down at his drink, tried to resist a sip, and took one anyway. “If they did send me something, it’d probably just be a picture of them all flipping me the bird.”

“Huh.”

Letters from home weren’t common, but each man in Klaus’ platoon had received at least one since being shipped out—a few after that briefcase dropped him into their tent, most before that point. Klaus had made the mistake of mentioning that he’d never gotten a single letter since arriving in country, and while he’d had the good sense to be vague about how long that had been, he’d still made himself an object of curiosity for the others.

No. Not curiosity. Pity. It was quiet, the sort that didn’t often surface in scattered remarks or louder exclamations, but he felt it all the same, pressing around him like the humid heat of the jungle whenever the topic of families surfaced. Each man in his platoon projected it to varying degrees, but it was always strongest coming from Dave.

“What about your brother….Diego?”

“Ah, c’mon. Guy’s got a busy schedule, pretending he doesn’t have a family.”

Not that Klaus could blame him; he’d done much the same. Then again, if Diego vanished for weeks with no word, no one would assume he’d OD’d for the last time in some seedy backroom or alley or coded in an ambulance accompanied by exasperated paramedics unable to revive him.

“Tell you what,” Dave said, and Klaus looked to him, saw him with his elbow propped against the wall. “I’ll tell my mom to meet us both once we get back to the States. Let her know I’m bringing a friend.”

Klaus smiled. The notion of returning at the same time as someone you’d met out in the jungle—let alone knowing you’d return at all—was a dream. His first brush with enemy gunfire had been enough to tell him that, even without the mangled ghosts of former brothers in arms to scream the same warning. That first spray of bullets alone had made the notion of dashing for Hazel and Cha-Cha’s briefcase at the first sign of serious trouble look like the world’s worst joke.

But unlike some dreams, this was one he liked. The thought of being shipped back with Dave, of sitting beside him on a train or whatever else he’d take back to the city from which they both hailed—it was one he could entertain for hours, one he’d hold onto long after the many rips and tears in the logic of it threatened to swallow the daydream whole.

“No, I’m serious. I’ll let her know you’re coming, make sure she’s waiting. Tell her to bring more cookies.”

“Fresh ones this time?”

Dave laughed again. Klaus could listen to that laugh for hours. “If Mom saw the state of those cookies when they got here, she’d buy a ticket to the White House and give Johnson a piece of her mind.”

Johnson. Right. Old Lyndon B. was president here in 1968. “Didn’t you say you wrote her already?”

“Ah, yeah. Forgot about that.” Dave grinned. “Now that she’s good and mad about what the Army did to her cookies, the war should be over any day now.”

The cookies had been little more than stale crumbs and broken pieces when Dave opened the package from home. Even so, the box had summoned every man in that tent like moths to a light bulb, set them hovering around awaiting their turn to snatch a handful of cookie pieces. Klaus hadn’t expected Dave to call him over, too—he was the new guy, after all—but after weeks of legendary Army food and tepid water flavored with iodine and grainy with the bodies of insects it had killed, those stale crumbs had tasted like heaven.

He noticed Dave moving closer without raising his head, didn’t flinch as he ran a hand through his hair. The thought of what he should do occurred after that first touch, and by then Klaus could only close his eyes.

Dave’s hand cupped the back of his head, pulled him closer. Not forcefully, not with any sort of coercion, but softly, in invitation.

“Nobody’s gonna catch us.”

Klaus opened his eyes. Dave’s voice was just audible over the somewhat muffled music, but it was the note of consolation that got his attention. His smile had turned gentle, comforting. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, and it wouldn’t take much to finish the job.

“It’s okay.” Dave moved a few inches closer, not quite close enough to press his body against his but close enough for Klaus to imagine how it would feel. “Or we can head somewhere a little more private, if you want.”

Klaus bit back an eager reply. “Dave, I….”

Fingers brushed through his hair again, and Klaus resisted the urge to trace the line of Dave’s jaw.

“What?” The question was gentle, like one of those breezes just strong enough to cool the air. “Klaus, what’s wrong?”

“Why?”

Dave’s smile had faded a bit, but it curled ever closer toward a frown and Klaus spoke quickly.

“I mean—why me?”

“What do you mean, why you?”

Klaus blinked. For a moment, he nearly brought all the unspoken things out into the light, but he didn’t know where to begin or what Dave had guessed already, if he was still wrapped up in the Maybe he has a problem stage or if he was already on his way to Even a fucking war zone can’t keep this guy clean. Whatever the case, he’d know sooner rather than later.

Back in the present, or the future, or whatever the hell it was, Klaus wouldn’t have cared. He hadn’t cared with Antonio, or Alessio—he couldn’t recall which name he’d been given at introduction; all he remembered was a pretty face and a place to sleep, delicious osso bucco and a decaying sense of optimism—a belief that there was some good in him, good that Antonio or Alessio or whoever he was could fan into greatness once Klaus stopped longing for the next high.

Three weeks. Three weeks under his roof, in his bed, and Klaus couldn’t remember his name.

“Why not you?”

Klaus could have offered a list—alphabetized, or in order of importance—but the look in Dave’s eyes kept the list in his head, kept any further words there too.

There was tenderness in that glance—a tenderness he’d seen before, but never so pure, unmitigated by any flicker of disappointment or longing. It wasn’t the kind of look that tried to stare past what he was, what he’d depended on since his teens and what he’d done to get it, to see a few sparks of beauty and kindness underneath. No, from the way Dave looked at him, all of that alleged goodness was all he saw. He looked at Klaus as if Klaus was fun and joy and love and everything else he deserved.

Dave leaned in closer, and Klaus knew he ought to pull away. Duck out of his embrace, head back out into the club and leave Dave alone. A little disappointment now would save him from far more heartbreak down the road.

Dave touched his lips to his.

It was a gentle kiss, so soft and subdued that for an instant all Klaus felt was the pleasant warmth of Dave’s lips; but soon he was aware of nothing but Dave, the scent and taste and feel of him, of being pulled closer and closer but still not close enough. He didn’t want it to end, didn’t want the moment to pass, wanted to freeze time and stay forever if it would keep Dave there.

Too soon, Dave pulled back. Klaus watched that same smile tug at his lips, breath trembling as Dave’s hand brushed his hair, his cheek. For an instant, just an instant, it looked as if Dave might say something; but soon it faded back into a smile so warm Klaus had the sudden urge to cry.

Love. The word sprang to mind with an ease that surprised him. He hadn’t heard it often, hadn’t said it often, yet there it was, written all over Dave’s face, in his touch. He didn’t understand it. Couldn’t explain it, couldn’t guess at why it existed. He could only return it….or reject it.

Without a word, with scarcely a thought, Klaus pulled Dave close and kissed him again.

#the umbrella academy #fanfic #klaus x dave #umbrella academy fanfic #tua #tua fanfic #klaus hargreeves #klaus #dave #dave katz #oneshot #first kiss

74 notes · View notes