#i can grab someones head and pop it like a grape in order to save his life hes seen it happen before it wasnt just because he feels | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

let-it-raines · 3 years

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I Hope We Never See October (6/?)

When his personal life and football career go up in flames, Killian Jones escapes England for America, finding seclusion in Martha’s Vineyard in order to hide from his demons. It’s a fresh start, or at the very least a paused moment in his life, and all he needs is a few months alone to allow his heart to heal. He doesn’t count on meeting Emma Swan.

Emma’s life depends on tourists who come to the island every summer. It’s how she makes her money working in restaurants and clubs across the vineyard, but every year, she cannot wait until autumn comes and her life returns to normal. She especially cannot wait for Killian Jones to leave.

Rating: Mature

ao3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

August

“I come bearing food.”

No one responds, and Emma knows there has to be at least five people in this house. And while David and Mary Margaret live in a really nice place thanks to Mary Margaret’s dad, it’s not so big that no one can hear her when she walks in the front door.

“Hello?” she repeats, shifting the bags of food in her arms. She’s got approximately eight hundred pounds of appetizers in her car, and she needs help carrying them in. “Hello, it’s me, the lowly caterer. Should I have used a separate entrance than the front, or is someone as lowly as me allowed to use that one? What if the neighbors see?”

Still, no answer, and Emma walks down the hallway until she’s in the kitchen. Every inch of the countertop is covered with food, drinks, cutlery, and the works. It’s an organized mess, much like Mary Margaret herself, and Emma puts the bags she’s carrying on the kitchen table before looking out the window to the pool.

“Oh my God,” she whispers to herself. “Like, oh my God.”

Killian Jones is standing on the pool house roof with what looks like garland or bubble lights or some kind of string object, and David is standing below him to...catch him. It looks like David is there to catch Killian.

Emma pushes open the French double doors and steps outside. “What the hell is happening here?”

Killian drops one of the strings he’s holding, causing David to move to catch it, and Emma swears she sees Killian’s life flash before her eyes before he catches himself on the flattest part of the roof.

“Bloody hell, Swan,” he gasps, out of breath, “warn a man.”

“Consider yourself warned.” She closes the door behind her and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s ridiculously hot out today, and she can already feel the sweat gathering down her back and underneath her bikini top. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Ah, well,” Killian starts as he picks up the dropped string of lights and starts adjusting them again, “I ran into Dave here at the market, we got to talking, and since I had nothing else to do, I’ve agreed to risk my life to hang his lights.”

“He’s more nimble than I am,” David says, like that explains all of this.

“Trust me, mate, Emma knows that.”

“Oh my God,” Emma whispers to herself as Killian and David keep talking, not paying her any attention.

Emma opens the door back and steps inside, away from the madness. She doesn’t know what’s happening out there, and she doesn’t want to know. Some things are better left not talked about or questioned, and this is definitely one of those things. She knows her friends all know Killian. The night at the bar where he met Mary Margaret and Ruby really snowballed things, and it’s fine. It is. She swears it’s fine. Except.

Except, well, they usually never meet the people she’s sleeping with. They’ve met her boyfriends, if only because it was nearly impossible to keep them away after so long, and they liked...Graham. They really liked Graham, not so much the others, and Emma feels the exact same way. But her casual flings, like with Killian, her friends don’t meet them. They don’t meet them, and they really don’t invite them to their big almost end of summer parties. They don’t ask them to help hang they string lights and get ice. She bets they asked him to get ice.

What is happening?

This is…this is a lot, and Emma doesn’t know how to feel about it.

She doesn’t know how to feel about a lot of things, mostly Killian Jones, but there are other things included in there. Those things just aren’t quite so in her face.

Shit.

When Mary Margaret invited him to the party a few weeks ago, Emma was fine with it. It’s just a party. There are going to be a lot of people here, and what was the harm in inviting one more? Besides, it’s not like she could have said no when Mary Margaret asked. That would have been rude, and despite what a few select people say, Emma is not rude.

Emma picks at a grape on the counter, popping it in her mouth, and then gets another one as she watches David and Killian outside. Killian takes another string of lights from David and hooks them over a nail on the roof.

He’s different from her past few flings. They’re usually as big of a mess as she is, and while she assumes Killian is as well, she doesn’t know enough about him to truly know. They’ve got a pretty good deal with their one personal question of the day thing. She knows it’s usually more than that, little things coming out in bed or when he stops by the Blue Dog, but she has comfort in being able to veto any question that gets a little too personal.

If Emma could have a veto in most things in life, it’d be a hell of a lot easier.

Emma grabs another grape and then starts unpacking the food she brought. Mary Margaret must have run to the store to get something else, but Emma knows how she’ll want to arrange things. She’s been to enough Nolan parties to know what happens. If she focuses on this, she’ll be able to ignore the man outside and all the pesky little thoughts in her head.

“Swan,” Killian says from behind her, and Emma lets out a little curse. “What are you doing, love?”

“Helping out in the air conditioning instead of outside.”

He hums and steps up behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist as his scruff scratches her neck. It’s a contrast to the softness of his lips that are running down the side of her throat. Arousal rises in her veins, quick like lightning, and it continues when one of his hands glides down her body and cups her ass as he presses against her.

“Killian,” she whispers, biting her bottom lip, “this is not the place for this.”

“What? Your friends’ kitchen isn’t the place for us to have a little fun?”

“No,” she laughs as she tilts her neck to give him more space, “it’s not. They may know we’re sleeping together, but I don’t think they want to witness it.”

He laughs and twists her around. His fingers skim her collarbone, lifting up the strap of her bikini. “I like this.”

“You’re such a man.” She pushes against his chest and moves away, going back to arranging the charcuterie boards. Multiple. “I’m sorry David roped you into helping. You could have said no.”

“It’s fine. Can I help you in here?”

She wants to say no, to send him back outside, but it might be nice to have company that’s okay sitting in silence with her. The rest of the day is going to be filled with people celebrating the near end of summer, even if it tends to linger for another month midway into September, and Emma could use a little quiet time before the chaos.

“If you could slice those apples for me, that would be great.”

“Aye, love, no problem.”

They work in silence setting up the boards. Killian catches on quickly, copying her arrangements, and eventually Mary Margaret comes home with more fruit and cheese and a car full of hamburger buns. She takes one look at the mess in her kitchen, has a bit of a meltdown, but then Ruby shows up with Mulan and it all starts coming together enough for everything to calm down.

For about five minutes before the neighbors start showing up with their own food and alcohol, and suddenly all the quiet, familiar voices are drowned out by loud new ones. Emma pours herself a glass of lemonade and sinks into a corner of the kitchen before moving outside. It’s miserably hot, the sun warming her skin immediately, but she knows it’ll cool soon. Until then, she finds her spot in a rattan chair in the shade, curling her legs up with her, and she watches as more and more people begin to filter in.

Emma doesn’t know how any two people have this many friends. She keeps a small circle, and they’ve been around for years. She’s slow to trust after spending her entire childhood in foster care, and while she likes to think her past doesn’t define her, she knows sometimes it does. Right now, when she’s cornering herself off while everyone else is having fun, she knows it’s a time where some old demons are knocking at the unlocked door waiting to get in.

She twists the lock and tells them to go away. She doesn’t need this today.

Ruby jumps into the pool, splashing everyone around her, and Emma laughs to herself. Ruby is one of the people that’s allowed in her head, and sometimes when Emma thinks her life is falling apart, she remembers being eighteen years old, desperate for food and a place to stay, and Ruby and Granny taking her in. they gave her a job and a place to stay because Ruby told Granny she would throw a fit if she didn’t take Emma in. So, it was a threat, sure, but it worked.

It’s good. Emma’s life is good. It’s messy and confusing, but it’s good.

Mostly.

Killian walks toward her, tilting his head in question, and she nods, scooting over on the cushion to give him room. Killian takes it, his thigh warm against hers, and then offers her a beer.

“No thanks. Not quite late enough in the day for me to want something to drink. I’ve got to save it all for when David starts telling the bad jokes once he’s finished cooking and can get plastered.” Killian chuckles then puts the bottle down on the grass. “What? You don’t want it either?”

“No.” He wraps his arm around her, letting it lightly fall on her shoulder. His fingertips pull on the ends of her hair, and a shiver runs down her spine. She’s always loved when people play with her hair. “It’s too early for me to be drinking as well. I try to stay away from the stuff when I can.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Have you now?”

Emma nods and leans a little further into him. She shouldn’t. This all feels a little too couple-like, but she does anyway. “You tend not to drink and when you do, you’re very calculated. You don’t just drink a bunch of wine like I will. It’s almost like you measure it out, literally.”

Killian clicks his tongue and yanks on her hair a little more before he draws his nail over the bare skin of her arm. He doesn’t answer, though. He stays silent, so Emma pulls her legs up and curls into herself while staying next to Killian. Ruby is jumping in the pool again, and Mary Margaret is walking around the pool with a platter of appetizers Emma brought from the Blue Dog.

When Killian still doesn’t answer, Emma decides to change the subject.

“So, tell me, how did you end up being some kind of soccer superstar?”

Killian chuckles and scratches at his chin. “Ah, that’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time. I don’t plan on giving up this chair any time soon. And it’s my one legitimate personal question of the day, so answer or veto.”

His brow raises, like it’s tempting her to take back her statement. She doesn’t. She must be really good at asking the worst questions possible today. They never really talk about what he used to do for a living, mostly because she doesn’t care, but she never thought it would be a sensitive subject. Then again, she should know better. She’s got enough sensitive subjects herself.

She waits for the veto, but it never comes.

“My mum got me into it as something to do after school to keep me active, and I loved it, mostly because Liam, my brother, did it too.” Killian smiles, one of his more genuine ones, and Emma leans back to get a better look at him. She likes the little lines around his eyes much better than the ones around hers. “Long story short, I was bloody good, my father learned there was a way to bet on children’s matches, and he kept me in it to make money. I nearly quit when I found out about it, but then I was too invested in the camps and in training. I loved it, and by some miracle, I ended up being able to do it for a living. I got the dream.”

“So why’d you stop?”

He laughs, but she can tell he finds nothing about this funny, especially when his fingers tighten around her arm. “Well, my brother died, I fell apart, and by professional standards, I was too old to have any kind of time to redeem myself. I nearly drank myself to death, which answers your earlier question, so I’m careful about how much I consume now. That’s actually why I came here...to get away from it all.”

That was...that was much more than Emma was expecting, and she doesn’t know what to say. That’s a common theme in her life. She knows what she feels, but she doesn’t have a damn clue how to express it. So she leans over and wraps her arm around Killian, matching him, and presses up until she can slowly glide her lips over his. It’s soft and sweet, just a taste of how they usually kiss, and she knows it goes against every rule she has for herself.

He’s leaving soon.

This is okay because he’s leaving soon, and when they leave, Emma rarely has to worry about the consequences.

“I wanted to be a ballerina when I was a kid,” she says against his lips, foreheads pressed together. “I never took a class or owned a tutu, but all I wanted was to be able to do the Nutcracker dance because that’s what they did at the community theater. I didn’t have any money as a kid, and I just thought it was the most luxurious thing in the world.”

Emma pulls back. She can’t believe she said any of that, but she did. It’s out there, one tiny piece of the gigantic, five-thousand-piece puzzle that is her life.

“You would have made a hell of a ballerina with those legs of yours, Swan. What an apt last name as well. It could have been a match made in heaven.”

“Ha,” she scoffs, getting up from the chair. “You haven’t seen me dance. Unless it’s, like, in a club where all I really have to do is grind my body on a man, I can’t do it.”

“It’s easy. All you need is a partner who knows what he's doing.”

“And what if I want to be a soloist?”

His brows go up at that. “Well, then you need a teacher because apparently you make a poor excuse for a dancer.”

Killian stands from the chair, and in two quick steps, he’s next to her with his hands on her ass lifting her up. She doesn’t register what’s happening quickly enough for her legs to go dead, and by the time she’s in the air over his shoulder, she doesn’t care enough to fight what’s coming.

It’s a party, she reminds herself, might as well have a good time.

“Get my phone out of my back pocket before you throw me in, would ya?” she asks, and Killian slips his hand in and gets her phone. “Thank you. I’m totally getting back at you for this later.”

Killian stops as Ruby wolf whistles, Mary Margaret gasps, David chuckles, and everyone else starts whispering about whether or not Killian is actually going to throw her in.

He does.

The water is cold at first, like a shock to the system, but by the time she rises to the surface, it’s just the burst of energy that she needed. Killian is sitting at the edge of the water smirking, and yeah, she’s definitely got to get him back for this later.

-/-

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#I hope we never see october #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan

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spacegirlapollo · 4 years

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A Hot Shower [Aizawa x Reader Smut]

Pairing : Aizawa Shouta x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut Word Count : 1900-2000 words

Summary: Its Saturday Morning and you’re not sure about how to go about getting your back blown out by your husband. (there is no real plot lmao)

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The soft light of Saturday morning hit your sleeping face from your bedroom window. You tested opening an eye to see just how bright it was, when you realized that it was safe, you opened both eyes. You were being greeted by the soft chirps of the birds outside and the smells of morning.

You couldn’t hide your smile as you started to become accustomed to your surroundings. Your husband Aizawa Shouta had his arm around your waist lazily, even though his body was flipped to face the other direction. He’d had a late friday night being dragged out with other teachers from U.A for karaoke. You’d faintly remembered being half awake at 2 am when he climbed into bed.

Staring at his back, you imagined, waking him up with a kiss that could… lead to other things. But before you could solidify your plans to harass your sleeping husband, you were harrassed yourself.

You hadn’t seen your lanky black cat “Bean” enter the room but you definitely felt him when he jumped onto your bed next to you and began to gently paw at your exposed shoulder. Petting the cat with your free hand you smiled as Bean leaned into your hand silently yawning.

“You hungry?” You whispered. Bean blinked but almost as if he understood you, he hopped off the bed and headed for the ajar bedroom door. He looked back at you once before sliding out of the room.

Gently you slid from Aizawa’s grasp, he tossed a bit but remained asleep which wasn't surprising as he was a notorious heavy sleeper. Grabbing a t-shirt from Aizawa’s drawer you slid it on and came out of the room as quietly as your cat had. Maybe you should let him get some rest, seeing as he was always busy.

Twenty minutes later, Bean was eating happily from his bowl and you were popping grapes in your mouth absentmindedly while pulling open your oven to check on your cinnamon rolls. They weren’t quite done yet but they smelled heavenly. Closing the oven you began to contemplate what else to make for breakfast. You and Shouta liked to go on runs in the morning on Saturday, so maybe a lighter breakfast was in order. You’d been craving the rolls though and anything sweet so you were thinking, “maybe we can skip the run” when you almost jumped out of your skin at the sound of Aizawa’s voice.

“Smells good.” He was in his black boxers and a black tee, and his hair seemed to be doing everything but laying flat.

He gave you a small smile when he’d seen how he’d scared you. “ Sorry.” His eyes gave you a quick once over that didn't escape your notice.

You let out a laugh, your nervous energy releasing with it. “ It’s okay, you just need a bell or something like Bean, you walk so quietly.”

“Occupational Hazard.” he said amusement trickled over his gravely morning voice. He squatted down to pet Bean who had been trying to get his attention since he’d arrived in the kitchen. Even though you had been the one to rescue Bean, he didn't hesitate to show that he preferred your husband over you, at any time.

“How was last night?” You asked feigning innocence but failing to hide the smirk on your face. You saw his eyes narrow at this and the smirk grew into a smile. You knew he hated going alone. You usually went with, and the agreement was, that you would feign feeling tired and be the one to lead his escape. The other teachers would complain a little but not say too much, whereas when he goes alone, they keep him there till ungodly hours. You loved going, as you’d become close with some of his co-workers (the opposite of his plans). And you felt like a good wife saving him from the clutches of social outings.

You would have gone last night except for a last minute emergency with your sister.

He stood up and sighed with both hands on his hips. It took all your energy not to snicker at his annoyed face reminiscing on the previous night's adventures. You started to take out the rolls as he spilled the tea on his co-workers.

“...and Hizashi almost got us kicked out for trying to announce someone’s birthday party.”

You snorted, placing the rolls on the stove. “And let me guess, you were hoping to be kicked out.”

“No. That would have been embarrassing.” You turned to look at him and his arms were now crossed over his chest indignantly. You laughed again, shaking your head. He was so funny without knowing it.

He crossed the into the kitchen, carefully stepping over Bean who was fiending for more attention from his favorite. As you realized what he was doing, you instinctually lightly slapped his hand which was reaching for the fresh off the pan rolls.

This rewarded you with a raised eyebrow and a smile playing on his lips. “What?”’

You pouted. “ You have to let them settle, dummy.”

He turned to face you closing the distance between you in one movement, looking down a bit at your face. Despite you trying to keep your cool, his proximity brought up…. Scenarios… in your mind that were less than appropriate. And you could feel the heat on your cheeks, and your heart rate speeding up.

You wanted to slap yourself, you were acting like a girl with a crush. But you couldn't help yourself. You knew you could be forward with him. You had been before! What was so hard about asking him to take you, right then, right there.

“Y/N?” He said and you shook your head coming back up to reality.

“Huh?” You said a little embarrassed. You definitely had stopped listening to him and were staring at his lips, and his chest. You looked up at him, hoping this had escaped his notice. Of course it had not.

“ I said, how do you propose we spend that time while we wait.”

He was a little bit more awake now, and his stupid little smirk matched yours from earlier.

“Shower!’ You said, flustered. “ I mean, we should shower.”

There was no mistaking that his smirk grew larger.

“Good idea.” He said grabbing your hand and pulling you, stunned out of the kitchen.

Your bare feet made contact with the shower, and he released your hand to turn on the water in the stand up shower. You had barely registered his lack of touch when he was back again, backing you up to the counter, his hands ghosting up your shirt and resting at your bare hips.

“Just the T-shirt?” He asked, amused by your lack of underwear.

Your lips parted instinctively as he came close. THIS. Is what you’d wanted all morning, and you loved how you didn't have to ask. He moved up his left hand to cup your neck, a thumb stroking your cheek.

“Tell me what you want.” He whispered peppering hit kisses down your jaw then down your neck. With his free right hand he lifted your leg up onto the sink counter, wedging his body and hardness in between your legs.

The hand trailed up your thigh and found its way to your core, you almost hissed as he began to rub a finger against your throbbing clit.

“I want… I want.” You tried to get out.

“Hm?” He hummed against your neck, picking up the speed of his fingers. The hot water from the shower was starting to fog up the bathroom and with it your senses.

“I want you inside of me.” You moaned out, tensing from his pleasure. You could have cried when he removed his finger from you. His hands were moving fast, rolling up the t-shirt off your body as he leaned down to kiss you.

You felt for the end of his shirt pulling it off his soon as yours were off. Standing up you pulled down his boxers, revealing his hard cock and without warning you bent down to take it into your mouth.

His groan of pleasure and surprise was worth it. His hand moved to your hair knowing what you wanted. Guiding your head forward he slid his hot cock down your throat till it reached the hilt, not managing to keep a moan from his mouth. You hummed approvingly as he now moved your head back and forth with both hands choking you on his dick.

His audible hisses had your pussy throbbing with need. Humming out long moans as he picked up the pace. Each push forward sent stars to your eyes but you didn't care. He let you breathe only momentarily before filling your mouth again. His head was tilted back, his hair falling carelessly around his face as his hips bucked back and forth. He was the giver of the relationship typically, hardly letting you touch him at first. You’d slowly but surely chipped at the wall he had up that denied himself pleasure, or pleasure as an afterthought.

With every stroke you wanted him to feel good. So good. And sometimes he obliged you. His grip on your jaw stilled and you remain perfectly still as he comes down your throat, hot and fast his hands falling almost limply to his sides.

“Fuck Y/N” he said quietly as you release his dick from your mouth with a pop. You stand up and press your bare bodies together before kissing him needily. With one hand around your hips and the other sliding open the shower, he backed you into the spray of the shower, closing the glass door behind him.

The hot water hitting your back made you moan against his mouth as he pressed you flat against the wall of the shower, lifting your leg up around his waist. He slid inside your wet folds effortlessly, pulling back from kissing you to ask

“Is this what you wanted ?”

Her snapped his hips upwards causing you to tug at his now wet hair.

“Hm?” he asked again when you were to busy in ecstasy to answer.

“Yes.” You said breathily as his pace picked up ruthlessly. “Yes baby thats so good.”

You were unraveling quickly, the only leg you had to the ground was wobbling under the force of pleasure you felt from each deep stroke. He was kissing you again urgent and tenderly.

“Shouta” you whined against his lips your flat against his chest curling into fist “fuck”

He could tell you weren't going to last long, but in one smooth move he pulled out and flipped you so your chest was pressed against the wall. You moaned disappointed at the lack of him but was quickly filled up again.

One hand was down at your clit rubbing ruthless circles that brought stars to your eyes and his other hand was pressed around your neck, gently as he slammed into you.

You could hear his faltering breaths in your ear as you started to see white.

“Cum in me.” You pleaded sensing both of your mounting orgasims. He rewarded you with a breathy moan

“Fuck, Y/N” grabbing your waist with both hands. You came first, crying out his name as he continually filled you up, your pussy tightening unbelievably around his cock sending him over the edge and filling you up with his cum.

You stayed like that for a moment, both of you breathing heavily. Turning around your captured his lips again this time for a sweet kiss.

“Maybe we should actually shower now.” You said in between kisses. You let out a giggle as he pushed you back against the wall.

“No, I’m not done with you yet.”

Prolouge:

The Cinnamon rolls got dry and hard but that's okay cause you got your guts rearranged a few times before then.

#aizawa #aizawa shouta #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #aizawa x reader smut #mha fanfiction #mha #mha aizawa #bnha #aizawa shouta x reader

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deanstop13billyjoeltraxx · 3 years

Text

Superposition

a deancas college roommate AU :)

Chapter 12 is up on AO3! Chapter-by-chapter masterlist here.

yes i updated twice this week my foot is broken i can’t do anything else

The Beginning (of the End)

Three Years Earlier

“You ready?”

Dean was standing by the door with a full backpack. Cas’s own was leaning against his closet. He was sitting at his computer, manically finishing a paragraph, only half-stalling.

“One second…” Cas trailed off as he ensured his document had saved properly. “Done. Yes,” he said. Dean rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face.

Dean had just taken his last final that morning. It was nearly noon before they hit the road in the Impala, Dean’s twenty-minute tape-selection process doing nothing to hasten their departure. Eventually, he settled on Moving Pictures, and he pulled out of the parking lot with “Tom Sawyer” blaring through the speakers.

Cas learned many things on the two-and-a-half hour drive to Lawrence — that Dean knew every word to every song in his tape collection, and he was not afraid to demonstrate it; that Dean had driven through almost every town on I-35; and that he had a story for each. He learned that Dean could begrudgingly appreciate 80s pop when Cas flipped on the radio and allowed the entirety of “Heat of the Moment” to play, uninterrupted. He learned that Dean would often turn to sing his favorite lyric right at Cas, or to tell him music trivia, or just to give him a smile.

When they arrived at Bobby’s house in Lawrence, a gangly teen who Cas assumed to be Sam was waiting for them at the door. Dean had barely made it out of the car before Sam was running to him, pulling him into a hug. Dean was grumbling “I wasn’t gone that long,” but he was smiling and sniffling and hugging Sam just as hard. Cas hid his smile.

Sam introduced himself to Cas, all smiles and raw excitement. His openness was contagious. Sam insisted on hauling Cas’s backpack inside for him, to which Dean threw an apologetic look at Cas. Cas just grinned back at him.

Bobby Singer was gruff-voiced and stoic, but there were tears in his eyes as he gave Dean a quick hug. He shook Cas’s hand firmly and said it was real good to meet him, after everything he’s heard. Dean went beet-red when Cas cast him a glance.

Bobby brought beers and a coke for Sam. The four of them sat in Bobby’s living room, Dean and Cas replaying the semester’s highlights for a rapt audience. When Bobby left the room to order a pizza, he clapped Dean on the shoulder and said, in a low voice, “Real proud of you, kid.” Cas thought it might have been the happiest he’d ever seen Dean.

“Dean told me you’re a writer,” Sam said when it was just the three of them. “He said you were writing a book.”

Dean made an indignant sound. “I didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, you did,” Sam retorted. “You said he —”

“I said he was majoring in creative writing,” Dean interrupted, giving Sam a look.

“I am… working on something,” Cas said to Sam. “Although, I’m not quite sure it’s a book. I’ve never tried my hand at writing novels.”

“Dean says your stories are really good,” Sam said, and Dean shot him a death glare. Cas could barely contain his laughter. “What do you usually write?”

“Before this semester, I typically wrote about my own life,” Cas said, feeling slightly self-conscious. “But one of my classes challenged me to write about other things.”

“What’s your book about?” Sam asked.

“Can you contain your nerd for, like, ten minutes?” Dean grumbled. “Dude just got here, you don’t need to scare him off.”

Sam flipped him off, and Dean muttered, “Real mature.”

Cas was considering Sam’s question, trying to come up with an answer that was both vague and satisfying. “It’s about free will,” he said finally.

“Can I read it? When you’re done, I mean,” Sam said. “I love reading. I just finished Lord of the Rings last month.”

Cas smiled. “If I ever finish it, of course,” he said. “Lord of the Rings is a fantastic book series,” he added, and Sam’s face lit up.

Dean let out a long-suffering sigh when Sam started Cas on a conversation about Tolkien, and he excused himself to get another beer. When he returned, Bobby close behind him, he threw a pillow at Sam’s head, which led to Sam throwing it back, knocking Dean’s beer to the floor, and then it was war. Bobby shot Cas an eye-roll, which only made him laugh harder.

The rest of the week passed much the same. Castiel went to bed each night with sore cheeks from smiling. On Saturday, Sam roped him into pouring toothpaste into Dean’s shampoo bottle. The roar they heard from the shower that night had them nearly on the floor laughing. Dean got his revenge on Sam moments later, barreling out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel to give his brother a large, wet hug. Unbeknownst to Dean, his retaliation involved Cas as well; it took great effort to keep his eyes focused on anything but Dean’s bare midsection.

Dean dragged him to all of his favorite spots in Lawrence, places he remembered from early childhood and past Christmases with Bobby. Watching Dean in his element, Cas gave up. Resistance was futile. Cas didn’t fall in love with Dean in Lawrence, but he stopped trying to open a parachute against it. And while that observably changed nothing, for Cas, it changed everything. He’d already lost the game — what was the point in denying himself the consolation prize?

He leaned into the ache that came with the brilliance of Dean’s smiles. He relished the knot in his stomach when Dean spoke to everyone, but looked at Cas like it was just for him. He stole glances. He hid smiles. Dean permeated his thoughts and invaded his dreams. It hurt like hell, sleeping alone on an air mattress, wanting nothing more than to be laying next to the man in the other room. But the highs were addicting, made greater by the pain that followed them. Though he’d been down this road before, hopelessly in love with someone who would never, could never love him back, Dean felt different. Dean felt all-consuming.

Castiel had fallen, and he wasn’t sure if he would ever rise again.

Christmas with the Winchesters made every holiday celebration Cas had attended look boring. Ellen Harvelle and her daughter, Jo, arrived in the morning, each giving him a hug like they’d known him for years. The moment she walked in, Ellen was yelling at Dean to “get his ass in the kitchen.” He grabbed Cas by the arm and pulled him along.

Cas spent the rest of the day watching Dean and Ellen cook, helping when he could, then having a raucous meal on the floor of the living room, A Christmas Story playing on the old TV. Bobby popped open two bottles of cheap champagne, much to the chagrin of Jo and Sam, who were provided sparkling grape juice instead. They exchanged gifts, and Dean looked at Cas like he’d just won the lottery after opening Cas’s gift to him, a limited edition copy of Houses of the Holy. When Bobby and Ellen moved to the kitchen to clean up, Dean led Cas outside to the Impala.

“It was too big to hide in there, and I’m shit at wrapping, so I just left it in the car,” Dean said, a little sheepish. He opened the trunk, and Cas gasped.

Inside sat a vintage black typewriter, an Underwood Champion. The paint was chipped everywhere, the letters on the keys nearly worn-off.

“It’s not in great shape,” Dean said, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “But it was the coolest one they had at the antique shop. It’s kind of useless, since you have a laptop and all, but —”

Cas interrupted him by pulling him into a tight hug. Dean made a surprised sound, but wrapped his arms around Cas’s back.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said into his shoulder. He pulled away. “It’s perfect.”

Dean shrugged, but looked pleased all the same.

“I have something else for you, too,” Cas said before he could change his mind. Dean crossed his arms.

“Dude, you already went way too hard with the vinyl,” Dean said.

Cas rolled his eyes and started his way back to the house. Dean shut the trunk and followed.

Cas grabbed his backpack and pulled out the stack of paper, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He all but shoved it into Dean’s chest, who gave him a confused look as he took hold of the gift.

“It’s the first part of my first draft,” Cas explained as Dean read the cover page. Dean’s eyes were wide when he looked back at Cas. “It’s a selfish gift, really,” Cas said. “I want to know what you think.”

Dean broke into a slow grin. “This is awesome, Cas,” he said. “I can’t wait to read it. Thank you.”

They were supposed to leave Lawrence on New Year’s Day, but Dean and Cas were both too hungover to even think about making the trip. They stayed an extra night, much to the delight of Sam. The three of them spent New Year’s marathoning the Harry Potter movies. As usual, Dean spent most of the time reciting lines and pointing out his favorite scenes to Cas. Eventually, Sam became irritated enough that he told Dean to shove it, to which Dean responded that Cas liked hearing his thoughts, thank you very much. Dean kicked him in the ribs when Sam rolled his eyes and mumbled something like “Sorry for messing up your game.” Cas pretended not to hear that, pretended not to see Dean give Sam a glare that said, bring that up again, and I’ll kill you. All the same, he couldn’t help but wonder…

But, no. Dean wasn’t flirting with him, Cas knew that much. Sam just said the first thing he could think of to get a rise out of Dean.

They didn’t end up leaving until after dinner the next day, Sam and even Bobby pulling both of them in for hugs. Dean turned on the radio for the first half of the drive, but kept the volume low. He was quiet, and although Cas wanted to ask, he allowed Dean to sit in whatever he was feeling, watching the flat landscape pass outside the passenger window.

Dean had forgotten to tank up in Lawrence, so they stopped for gas in Emporia. It was dark by then, the unnatural white fluorescents shining starkly against the night sky. Cas stayed in the passenger seat as Dean pumped the gas. Cas watched him intently from the safety of the cab, another stolen moment wherein he allowed the full depth of his feelings to overcome him. It hurt, as it always did, but he thought the pain of wanting what he could never have was becoming softer, more bearable, like he might be able to live with it.

Dean opened the car door, and a rush of cold air assaulted the cab. “It’s nice out tonight,” Dean said. Cas hummed in agreement, contemplating Dean’s languid movements as he pulled his hoodie over his head. It was torturous, the way his shirt rode up to reveal a torso chiseled like marble, dusted with freckles. It was impossible not to stare. He looked away just before Dean looked at him again.

“I’m gonna go grab a snack,” he said. “You want anything?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Cas said.

Dean returned momentarily with an already-half empty package of powdered donuts, grinning widely. Cas rolled his eyes as Dean reentered the cab.

“Prudent,” he deadpanned.

“These things are fucking magic,” Dean said before making a completely inappropriate noise as he popped another into his mouth. Cas averted his eyes.

“Do you eat the most unhealthy foods in existence on purpose?” Cas asked.

Dean looked at him with mock affront. “I just eat what tastes good,” he said.

The Impala roared to life. Dean opened the window to toss the empty package into a nearby trash can, dusting his fingers off in the air. He turned back to Cas, the right side of his mouth covered in powdered sugar.

“Ready to go?”

Cas frowned. “You look like a small child in a donut shop,” he said.

“What?” Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth, then raised his eyebrows at Cas. “Better?”

“Barely,” Cas said, his frown deepening. And then his hand was moving without his permission, reaching up to dust the remaining white from the side of Dean’s mouth. It might have been nothing, were it not for the fact that his thumb lingered just a moment too long. Cas was staring at Dean’s lips, the breath stolen from his lungs. Shit.

“Cas?” Dean said, an eyebrow cocked.

Cas pulled his hand back like he’d been burned. “What?” He croaked. His throat felt like sandpaper.

Dean was looking at him with a mix of curiosity and melancholy, and Cas was done for. After all this time, every trip to the dining hall, every movie watched on a shared beanbag, every midnight trip to Taco Bell, it was here that Cas put the final nail in the coffin. It was at a shitty gas station in the middle-of-nowhere, Kansas, that Dean discovered his secret.

“Nothing,” Dean said slowly. As they pulled out of the gas station parking lot, Dean didn’t even bother to turn on the radio. Cas only dared a single glance in Dean’s direction, but when he did, he found Dean’s eyebrows knit in concentration, his jaw set, like this drive was the most important thing he’d ever done.

The air felt like it was about to condense with the weight of the silence. That final hour of the drive had Cas fidgeting, turning his phone over and over in his hands. Dean was perfectly still, hardly moving his eyes from the road. Dean, the definition of nervous energy, wholly devoted to a single task. Cas could have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been silently begging for immediate reorganization into an inanimate object.

Because nothing in the history of unrequited love confessions could beat this. Cas didn’t have a prayer. And maybe Dean would pretend he hadn’t seen it, maybe they’d never talk about it. But everything would be different. Dean would find excuses to miss dinner, Cas would pretend to be exhausted every Tuesday night. Dean would break the news that he’d found a different roommate for the following school year. Cas would remark that they should keep in touch at the year’s end, and Dean would agree with a clap on the back, and they would never speak to each other again.

Finally, mercifully, Dean pulled into the dorm parking lot. Cas exhaled hard, as if he’d been holding his breath. Dean gave him a quizzical glance, which Castiel promptly ignored. When Dean shifted into park, Cas had his hand on the door handle immediately. He was about to open it, to take a breath of frigid, fresh air, when Dean grabbed his other wrist.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice was barely above a whisper, gravelly and sincere in a way that sent a shock through Cas’s spine.

Cas turned to face him. “What?” Cas said, trying to ignore the flames creeping up his arm.

“Thanks for, uh,” Dean started, but he cleared his throat. “Thanks for coming. To Lawrence.”

“Of course,” Cas said, and his voice sounded dead, even to him. He tried to infuse it with some vitality as he finished. “Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time.”

Dean nodded. His hand was still wrapped around Cas’s wrist, and he was looking out of the windshield.

Cas raised an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t we… Go inside?” It came out like a question.

Dean’s eyes flicked to his. “Yeah,” he said, but he still wasn’t letting go. And Cas thought he should look away, should open the door, but then the inaction lasted too long. Something about the way Dean was looking at him burned, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek, like there was something he was trying to convince himself to say.

Cas wasn’t sure if he really whispered Dean’s name, or if he imagined it. All he knew was, one moment Dean was staring at Cas, lips parted. The next, there was a hand on the back of Cas’s neck and stubble against his cheek and a pair of lips rough against his. Dean was kissing him, and Cas had imagined it so many times he could do nothing but freeze and hope he never woke up from this dream.

Dean pulled away abruptly, too soon, and the give-or-take two feet between them might have ripped a hole in the space-time continuum, it was so cosmically wrong.

“Shit, that was — I’m so sorry, Cas I didn’t —” Dean was holding his head in his hands, but his words were taking eons to reach Cas’s ears. He just sat, staring in disbelief. Every place Dean had touched was scorched with the absence of him. “I’ll email someone — I’ll try to move out for this semester — fuck, I’m such an idiot,” Dean was saying, and those words shocked Cas back to his plane of existence.

“Move out?” He croaked, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. “Why?”

Dean looked at him in anguish. “I shouldn’t have — I’m an idiot.” His voice sounded broken and raspy. “I fucked up on Thanksgiving, and now, shit, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You remember Thanksgiving?” Cas blurted.

Dean tilted his head. “How could I forget that?”

Cas furrowed his brow. “What exactly was your mistake on Thanksgiving?”

Dean stared at him. “The whole damn thing, Cas,” he sputtered. “And now this, and, goddammit, you’re my best friend and I can’t control myself long enough to…” Dean trailed off, and Cas finally understood. Dean had misinterpreted his shock, felt Cas’s stiff and tardy reply and taken it to mean he wasn’t interested. A bubble of hysterical laughter escaped him at the irony.

Dean’s expression darkened. “Yeah, this is fucking hilarious, Cas —”

Cas cut him off. He closed the distance between them, and he could have laughed at the woeful inadequacy of his fantasies when compared to this. It was stilted and desperate, and the center console was digging into Cas’s knee, and an uncomfortable cold was seeping into the cab. But Dean’s fingers were tangled in his hair and he tasted like Diet Coke and cigarettes and he was muttering Cas with every breath and Cas thought he might die in that parking lot because he simply would not allow this to end.

The world had shifted when they finally parted. Dean was looking at him with wonder and confusion. Cas knew he was putting on a similar display. It was dark. Dean’s face was only half-illuminated in the parking lot, but everything about him was brilliant. It was almost too much, like maybe if Cas looked away he’d find himself blind. Cas felt the near-overwhelming urge to kiss him again, to rediscover every plane of Dean’s face he’d already committed to memory.

But he remained in his place, half twisted in the passenger’s seat, because this demanded all manner of explanation. Cas swallowed hard.

“You…” Dean’s voice was a gravelly whisper. “What?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Cas replied, breathless.

“You’re not — You’re not pissed?”

“That depends,” Cas said, his heart hammering against his chest. “What was that?”

“I —” Dean started, but stopped himself. His leg was bouncing rapidly, and he reached into the pocket of his jeans, presumably for a cigarette. Cas grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Dean,” he said in a stern voice.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Dammit, Cas,” he said. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth,” Cas said, a little taken aback.

“The truth,” Dean repeated, his eyes remaining resolutely shut. Another deep breath. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” he said finally.

And, whatever Cas had been expecting, it wasn’t that. “What?”

“I was gonna — I dunno, I was gonna do it right. I’ve been meaning to do it right, ask you to fucking dinner or something, but then I thought you hated me after Thanksgiving, and you were busy all the time, and then we were in Lawrence, and —”

“We go to dinner every night,” Cas said. Dean wasn’t making sense.

Dean finally opened his eyes, only to give Cas a death-stare. “No, dumbass, something a little nicer than the friggin’ dining hall.” He sighed. “But, of course, in my car. What am I, sixteen?”

“A date,” Cas said, finally catching up. “You were going to ask me on a date.”

Dean winced a little. “Yeah.”

“But you didn’t —”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“— Because you thought I hated you.”

“A little bit.”

Cas smiled incredulously. “If this is a joke, it’s a terrible one.”

Dean glared at him. “Not a joke, Cas.”

“But you’re not — Dean, I thought you were straight.”

Cas felt bad about the statement immediately as Dean winced, but it was true. Nothing was adding up. Dean had never shown an interest in men before, at least not around Cas, and Cas didn’t think he could stand to be Dean’s experimental phase. But he reeled his insecurity back in as he added, “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m just… Confused.”

Dean let out a hard breath. “No, I know, I know,” Dean said. “I dunno. Guess I never really thought about it before.” He paused. “I was too scared to think about it.”

Cas felt his heart break at that. There was a story there, a million things to unpack, but it was obviously a feat for Dean to say as much as he already had. Cas left it alone.

Dean cleared his throat. “Point is,” he said, “this was a long time coming, but I’m an idiot and couldn’t work up the balls.” He was staring hard at his hands, the admission taking enormous effort.

A little nervous without the excuse of the heat of the moment, Cas put a hand on Dean’s neck and kissed him, again, short and tender. “You’re not an idiot,” Cas said.

“Guess not,” Dean said through a breathless laugh.

Cas cocked his head. “You really thought I hated you?” He asked, his eyes searching Dean’s.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Dean asked. “I thought that was it, you were done with me.” Dean furrowed his brow. “Why’d you do that?”

“Avoid you?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you didn’t — if you weren’t mad.”

Cas stared at him. “Dean, I can barely remember anything we did on Thanksgiving, much less anything I might have said.” He paused. “And then we were… I didn’t know what to think. Not to mention, up until about five minutes ago, I thought you were — that you weren’t interested.” Cas ran a hand through his hair. “I was worried I might ruin our friendship.”

Something like realization dawned on Dean’s face. He let out another laugh. “Guess we’re a couple of dumbasses.”

“Maybe,” Cas said with a small smile. “Let’s go inside.”

Dean nodded, and they exited the car and made their way upstairs. And it might have been any other night, save their shoulders touching, fingers brushing, silence charged with something new. Cas unlocked their door, letting Dean in. When he turned after shutting the door behind him, Dean was there, and Cas didn’t even have time to turn on the light before he was shoved hard against the door. Dean’s mouth was hot and his hands were desperate. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cas thought they should probably talk about this, about them, but then Dean’s breathing hitched as Cas caught his bottom lip between his teeth, and the thoughts stopped coming.

Cas’s bare back was cold against the linoleum floor, but Dean was warm against his chest. He stared at the ceiling in the dark, his mind scrambled from pleasure and the shock of being wanted.

“Cas,” Dean said against his chest. Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Yes?”

Dean shifted, perching on his arm, looking down at Cas. “You — you want this?” He said.

Cas stretched his arms up and rested his head on top of his hands. “This?” He asked. Dean was being intentionally vague, but Cas couldn’t exist in limbo. He had to hear the words, as clear as Dean could make them.

Dean gave him a look for a moment, but relented. “Yeah, I know. Okay. This,” he said, gesturing between the two of them. “You and me. Us. Like this.”

“Oh,” Cas said lightly. “That’s what you meant?” Dean rolled his eyes and shoved him. Cas laughed. “The answer is yes.”

A small smile, but it faltered as Dean spoke again. “Are you sure?” He said. “I don’t — I might be really shit at this, you know.”

And Cas did know. There were a million little complications, things they would have to figure out, problems he hadn’t even begun to consider. That might have been terrifying, but the prospect of never having Dean, that was worse.

“I’m sure,” he said quietly. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, no hesitation.

Cas sighed as Dean traced circles on his chest. “It’s worth it to try.”

Cas was in between sleep and consciousness when something warm shifted around his back. Whatever dream he’d been having, it felt remarkably real.

“Wake up, dumbass,” he heard Dean say affectionately. Cas didn’t want this dream to end; he could steal a few more minutes of sleep. He burrowed his head deeper into the pillow, willing the dream to continue.

But then there was a pair of lips against his ear, and they were entirely real. “C’mon,” Dean said in a low voice. “First day of class.”

For a moment, Cas was confused. Dean was in his bed. Why was Dean in his bed? But as he rubbed his eyes, the events of the night before came crashing into him.

Oh.

Nerves pooled in the pit of his stomach. He half expected Dean to rush out some kind of apology, to tell him that everything had been a big mistake. But when Cas turned to face him, Dean was beaming.

“Mornin’,” he said.

“Good morning,” Cas said, awestruck. Dean needed a shave, and his hair was flat on one side from sleep, but Cas still felt his breathing hitch as he stared at Dean, unfettered for the first time. Beautiful.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Coffee?”

“Please,” Cas said with a nod. Dean moved to climb out of the bed, but he paused. He turned back toward Cas and kissed him, slow and deep. When he finally broke away, Dean was smiling even wider.

“Awesome,” he said, earning a snort from Cas.

If Cas had worried about Dean’s intentions, it was unfounded. At lunch, as Dean talked to Cas like he was the only person at the table, Meg rolled her eyes and told them to “get a room.” Dean responded by throwing an arm around Cas and saying, “Maybe later.” Meg gaped at the two of them for about ten seconds before regaining composure, shifting to more general conversation. Cas received a text from her immediately after they parted ways.

MM (1:12 p.m.)

holy shit!!!!

MM (1:13 p.m.)

ur going to tell me everything tmrw

At first, Cas wasn’t sure how to respond, because he wasn’t sure what he was allowed to say. That is, until Dean answered a call from Benny, saying, “Sorry, man, I’m not going tonight, I have a date. Yeah, with Cas. Shut up.” Cas smiled to himself as he replied to Meg.

CN (2:32 p.m.)

Absolutely.

The three weeks that followed were easily the best of Cas’s life. The rituals remained unchanged; Tuesday was movie night, dinner was at seven-p.m. in the dining hall, late nights doing homework demanded a fast food run. But little things shifted; Dean made it to his birthday without going to a single party, and his bed remained perpetually made. Cas amassed a greater collection of t-shirts that weren’t his, and he only ran when he knew Dean was in class.

Cas woke up to Dean shifting around him as he attempted to get out of bed for an early class. Cas slung an arm tightly around his midsection in protest.

“Too early,” he mumbled.

He heard Dean chuckle. “I thought class was important,” he said, but he shifted closer to Cas nonetheless.

Cas grumbled something incomprehensible as he pulled out his phone. When he saw the date, however, he shot up, suddenly wide awake.

At Dean’s look of confusion, he said, “It’s your birthday.”

“Yeah.”

Cas leaned down and kissed Dean deeply. He pulled away to mutter, “Happy birthday, Dean,” against his lips. Dean closed the small distance as soon as Cas had said the words, and this time it was decidedly heavier, hot breaths mixing and hands pulling each other closer.

They were interrupted by Dean’s second alarm. Dean scowled as he turned it off. He looked at Cas expectantly, but Cas had his arms folded against his chest.

“Class is important,” he reminded Dean.

“But it’s my birthday.”

“And?”

“Asshole,” Dean grumbled, but he kissed Cas on the jaw as he climbed down from the bed. He put on a pot of coffee as Cas followed him off the bed, wrapping his arms around Dean from the back.

“I got you something,” Cas said into Dean’s shoulder. Dean twisted around to face him.

“Cas, you didn’t have to do that. I told you, birthday’s are dumb anyway.”

Cas made a face. “I happen to be endlessly thankful for your birth.”

Dean shook his head, but he was smiling. “What is it?”

“You’ll find out on Friday when we go to Benny’s.”

“We’re going to Benny’s?”

Cas bit the inside of his cheek. “It was supposed to be a surprise,” he said, “Benny and Charlie both insisted. But you once told me you have a strong aversion to surprise parties.”

“Y’all are throwing me a surprise party?”

“No,” Cas rushed. “No, that’s why I’m telling you right now.”

“But it’s a party.”

“Yes.”

“You couldn’t have told me yesterday? How long have y’all been planning this?”

“Only a week.”

“A week?” Dean paused, his eyes narrowed. “Who all’s gonna be there?” Dean grumbled, already trying to assess the threat of too much attention on him at once.

“Just Benny, Charlie, and Charlie’s girlfriend,” Cas placated.

Dean relaxed at that. “And you, right?”

“I’ll come if you want me there,” Cas said, a little sheepish. He hadn’t really planned on going, wanting to give Dean some time alone to spend with his friends. Cas felt like he’d accidentally achieved a monopoly on Dean’s attention.

Dean gaped at him. “Dude, of course I want you there.”

Cas gave him a soft smile. “Then I’ll be there.”

Dean almost convinced Cas to let him skip class — almost — but with great effort, he resolutely pushed Dean out the door.

“Damn, all right, if you want to get rid of me that bad,” Dean griped, smirking. “See you later.”

“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas said with a smile.

They didn’t make it to the party.

Friday afternoon, after spending far too long in bed, Cas was sitting on the beanbag, Dean’s head resting on his lap. They’d taped Dean’s comforter over the window, leaving the room completely dark, save for the film playing on Dean’s television.

“Fucking asshole,” Dean was saying as Neil’s father came on screen. Cas hummed in agreement, paying more attention to his fingers threading their way through Dean’s hair. Suddenly, Dean’s phone began to ring. He shifted to check the caller ID, then stood up quickly.

“Wait, pause it, I gotta take this,” he said. Cas obliged. “Hey, Bobby! How’s it goin’?”

Cas reached above his head to stretch, but he faltered when he heard Dean say, “Dad? What’s wrong?”

Cas stood abruptly as Dean’s phone slipped out of his hand, shattering upon impact with the linoleum. He was standing, his jaw clenched, staring at absolutely nothing.

“Dean?”

Dean remained silent, no indication that he had heard Cas. Cas placed a hand on his left shoulder, prompting Dean into movement.

Still saying nothing, Dean dumped the contents of his backpack onto the floor, filling it with things from his wardrobe. Cas followed him, frantic.

“What are you doing? Dean, talk to me,” he said. But Dean was on a mission, it seemed. After stuffing his feet into unlaced boots, he threw the door open and stalked out.

At a complete loss, Cas pulled on his own shoes and followed, making sure to grab his key as he shut the door to their room behind him. Dean was already halfway to the stairs, and Castiel ran to catch up with him. Dean let the door to the stairs shut in Cas’s face.

“Dean!” Cas called. Dean was fleeing down the stairs like his life depended on it. Cas only barely caught up to him as they reached the ground floor and exited to the parking lot.

Finally within reach, Cas grabbed Dean’s shoulder, hard. Dean slowed, but didn’t stop.

“Dean,” Cas started. Still no response. “Dean! What happened?”

They had reached the Impala. Dean unlocked the car and threw his bag haphazardly in the front seat. He stared resolutely at the ground.

“I gotta go, Cas. I’ll explain everything later.” The first words Dean had spoken to Cas in nearly ten minutes. His voice was thick.

“Dean, where are you going?” Cas asked, desperate. “The party — there’s class on Monday!”

Dean looked up at him then, and Cas was struck by the mixture of fury and sadness in his eyes. “Screw the party and screw class. Family emergency.”

Cas watched helplessly as Dean sped out of the parking lot, taking the turn so fast the back end of the Impala swayed a little. He stood in the middle of the parking lot for what felt like an eternity, the cold January air seeping into his bones. Eventually, he made his way back to the dorms, sighing in relief as the warm air of the hallway hit him.

When Cas reentered the room, he stared at Dean’s shattered cell phone. He didn’t even bother to clean up the mess, just let out a choked sigh. Cas fell into the beanbag, his head in his hands.

——

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paoladamasco · 4 years

Text

AU MEME 🔆OUR FLATS ARE OPPOSITE EACH OTHER AND YOUR KITCHEN WINDOW FACES MY KITCHEN SO WE ALWAYS SEE EACH OTHER MAKING COFFEE AT 3AM featuring @ofrosso; @benvoliosantodomingo; @romroses; @odessasvernon; @ofcastora

There’s a very specific reason Felipe wants her to move, and Paola is pretty sure it’s the hot neighbor right across from her.

“I like it here, Felipe,” Paola says as she sets breakfast down on the table. “It’s affordable, it’s a good neighborhood and I just figured out how to stuff all my books in here without looking like an abandoned library.”

“You could move in with me,” Felipe offers, stabbing a blueberry with his fork and popping it into his mouth with relish.

Paola laughs as she imagines it: both of them living in either of their cramped flats, with all their things overflowing so there’s no space to even sit on the floor. “It’s a little soon for that, don’t you think? Besides, neither of us can afford a place big enough. And I’m still not convinced I need to move out at all.”

Felipe shoots her a look that says he doesn’t believe her. “Your neighbors are questionable, for one.”

“There’s only been two deaths in the area.”

“Yes, but you hear three gunshots every night.”

Paola shrugs, sipping on her tea in between handfuls of grapes. “I don’t mind it.”

There is it: he can’t help but glance at her kitchen window. Looking for them, Paola knows. She heaves a great and tired sigh to recapture Felipe’s attention, raising her brows pointedly. “You know I’ve never even met them, right?”

“You could have mentioned you live across someone who looks like that when they’re shirtless,” he grumbles.

His frown, all boyish and charming, still wins her over, no matter the reason. Paola’s smile is genuine as she tells him, “They don’t even notice me. Now eat your breakfast, I want to go visit the new bookstore down the street.”

Before they leave, Paola sneaks a peek at the kitchen window. Just like she thought — they’re there. And they’re looking straight at her.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

Marcelo watches the girl who lives across from them, and wonders if she knows she missed a spot while brushing her hair. There’s a hint of bedhead right in the back, still frizzy and bunched together.

They noticed her when she moved in, primarily because she moved in alone. With boxes in her arms, she trekked up the stairs tirelessly for hours with only a bandana holding her hair back. It did nothing to help the sweat; they know the feeling, the burn when it gets into your eyes. They remember grinning when they saw it happen to Paola, as she squeezed her eyes shut and began wiping furiously at her eyes.

They didn’t leave their apartment to offer their help, of course. It wasn’t their problem; it was just an interesting show, and they liked that she never seemed to tire. Every few hours, she stopped to eat a banana over the sink and take a long sip from a beer bottle. They liked that, too.

It’s pure curiosity that keeps them watching this tiny, waifish girl who single-handedly moves endless boxes — many of them books, the heaviest and the worst kind — into a tiny apartment. It’s been several months since she’s moved in, and they’ve learned quite a few things since.

She likes to make tea during the day, but she makes coffee at night. She seems to have books everywhere and even reads while cooking; it’s always a different volume in her hands. Sometimes, the two make eye contact and she always looks surprised to see them; she also always smiles.

She has a boyfriend. They didn’t know that until today. Apparently, the boyfriend never spends the night.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

It’s 3 AM, and Felipe is long gone; but Paola is wide awake, devouring the book of philosophy she bought from the new bookstore. Or at least, she’s trying to be wide awake. Eyelids growing heavier and heavier, the solution is obvious. She needs at least two cups of coffee to get through this next chapter — and then maybe three more for the next.

She rises from the couch and heads to the kitchen. Instinctively, Paola looks out the window for the person she’s become used to seeing at this hour. Yep, as usual, they’re pouring a drink too.

Just after she’s noticed them, they lift their head. Their eyes meet.

They raise their brows at her as if they’re asking a question. Paola lifts a hand and smiles as if she’s giving an answer. And she can’t help herself — she ends up taking a quick peek at their shirtless torso, a sight she’s seen nearly every night and still can’t seem to get enough of.

Okay, she’s starting to see Felipe’s point.

Paola turns away quickly, focusing on her coffee and willing herself not to look back at them. She’s been dating Felipe for two months, and it’s been fun. Nearly effortless, with conversation as enjoyable as their silence is comfortable. It’s rare for Paola to find people she connects with so naturally. Since he first introduced himself, she’s blossomed beneath his attention.

She takes a sip from her cup and decides to get curtains for the kitchen window in the afternoon. It solves everything: Felipe will feel more comfortable, the dip in her stomach will stop and she won’t waste as much coffee looking for excuses to see them in the middle of the night.

Before she returns to her reading spot, Paola looks for one last sight of them. But they’re gone.

Why is she so disappointed?

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

As it turns out, curtains can be quite expensive. It also doesn’t come with the set-up she needs to get it ready, so Paola is quick to abandon her search. She doesn’t look too deep into how easily she abandons her project. It’s inconvenient, and out of her already-skim budget.

Over the next month, Felipe grows more distant — sometimes, when she goes to spend the night, his eyes are glazed over and never seems to be quite there. She has a feeling he’s using something, but he always vehemently denies it. Paola keeps an eye out for anything that gives him away every time she visits. Felipe is a recovering addict; she can try to save him, but she is only a helping hand. Ultimately, Felipe is the only one who can pull himself out of the abyss.

She still sees them intermittently during the day, and always every night. They’ve developed a routine: they hold up whatever liquor they’re drinking, and Paola shows them the book she’s reading. Sometimes, they’ll smile at the cover as if they recognize it. Whenever it happens, she’s overwhelmed with the temptation to go to their door and ask if they do.

But Paola is smarter than that, so she never does. Although, admittedly, she has gone to her door as if she’s about to make the first step outside.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

They saw the boyfriend in person, once. Out for a drink with their friends, it’s a regular night for Marcelo. Bellamy is beside them and talking to the bartender, making friends as he always does wherever he goes.

Roman is flirting with everyone at the bar while keeping a close eye on Odessa, who’s dancing and pretending she doesn’t dance for his benefit. They roll their eyes and throw a shot to the back of their throat. Idiots.

Castora is fighting off every single person who dares make a pass at her. Next to her is Armand, who goes by his middle name — Ajax — and has been best friends with Castora since they were children. He’s also in love with her and it’s obvious to everyone but Castora. Marcelo flags the bartender down for another shot. It’s something of a game tonight: one shot for every idiot duo they see tonight.

They’re scanning the room for the rest of their friends when they spot him: the boyfriend. They straighten slightly as they search for the girlfriend. She’s reading a book that their dads used to love. Part of them wants to ask her for her favorite parts, as if it will give them a new piece of their dads to remember and lock into their memory.

She’s not with him. Damn. Whatever, it’s just a stupid book and they have plenty of their dads to remember anyways. The bartender finally arrives with their shot, and they take it without a beat.

The boyfriend is coming closer, and he’s loud. Marcelo can’t help but start listening in.

“It’s this new drug called faerie’s blood, and I’ve never had anything like it. You guys have to try it, I can ask my dealer to hook us up…”

They wonder if Paola dabbles in drugs, too. It’s not that they have a problem with that — but somehow, she doesn’t strike them as the type. But what do they know? They’re just neighbors who have this weird, hidden ritual that they look forward to every night, for some forsaken reason.

Marcelo orders another shot. They’re not sure which idiotic duo it’s for this time; they just know they need one, now.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

Felipe is using again. She can’t say what drug is in the small plastic bag in his wallet, but Paola is positive it’s a drug. The two fight for hours. Felipe insists he’s being careful, and he’s sick of being watched like a hawk. Paola calls him weak, a liar who knows he’s ruining his life and choosing to do it, anyways.

The two are broken up by the end of the night, and Paola returns to her flat with her things. Hot, angry tears roll down her cheeks as she throws out whatever she finds that belongs to him: a few T-shirts he left behind, his toothbrush…

She’s pouring out the perfume he bought for her down the kitchen sink when they show up. They’re wearing a shirt, for once. Paola likes them in a shirt, even a simple gray T-shirt with their built chest filling it out nicely.

They hold up a bottle of scotch. Paola doesn’t have anything to hold up: no books, no coffee, nothing. She just stares at them blankly, until their expression becomes visibly bewildered and they shake the bottle in their hands as if to remind her of their ritual.

An idea dawns on her.

She holds up a finger for them to wait. Before they can respond in any way, Paola grabs the last book that made them smile — she’s kept it on her coffee table all this time — and runs out to find them.

🔆🔆🔆🔆🔆

Their door looks exactly like hers, but it feels entirely different. Paola takes a moment to stare at it, contemplating all that it means: seeing them up-close without glass between them, hearing their voice, learning their name… All of it is so simple, so necessary; yet they’ve found a way to communicate without it.

Is this stupid? Is this too rash, not even 24 hours having passed since she and Felipe broke up?

It doesn’t feel stupid; it feels right, it feels brave, it feels like an adventure. It doesn’t feel rash, either, with months and months of silent interactions and their nightly show-and-tells.

Paola doesn’t care; she’s going to do it.

She knocks on the door. When it opens, she’s struck by how tall they are. Paola blinks up at them and studies the small details she’s never been able to see across the distance. They have more facial hair than she realized. Their eyes are startling, not quite brown and not quite green.

They’re so tall. Paola isn’t sure why she’s so fixated on that, until — without her thinking it, without her questioning it — her hand is reaching up to cup the back of their neck and bring them down to where the small people like her live. Their lips crash together, uncomfortably at first; it takes only a short beat to find a rhythm, and when they do, they lean into it as if they’ve done it their whole lives. They seem to realize what’s happening a second after Paola does, hands gripping her waist and pulling her flush against their body.

She’s the first to pull away, breathing harder than usual. They don’t even seem to be affected — as if they expected this all along and it’s her who’s late to the party. There’s a smirk on their lips, the lips that she just kissed. Paola wants to kiss it again until they have to swallow their smirk, until all that’s left is the same smile she saw when she held up the right book title.

“Do you think kissing someone the night of your breakup is a bad thing to do?” Paola asks.

Surprise flashes across their face, but they look almost satisfied as they respond, “The better question is, do you care?”

She likes their voice. Better yet, she likes their answer. She smiles at them stupidly, having nothing else to say. It’s Marcelo who breaks the silence, stepping aside to make room as he says, “Want to come in?”

“I thought strangers weren’t to be trusted,” Paola points out, hoping the sincerity of her voice is understood as a joke.

It’s a relief when they laugh. They get it, she thinks, they get it. “I’m Marcelo.”

“I’m Paola.”

“Great, now we’re not strangers. Get the fuck in here already.”

#au meme #i think of you / but i no longer speak of it (marcelo)#drug tw

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galaxy-productions · 5 years

Text

Never been an older brother.(Platonic Tenya/Midoriya)

(This Bnha Fic is for the lovely @seasonal-brotp-prompts! Their blog is a blessing to anyone who loves platonic good stuff, so please check them out! This fic takes place just after the students move into the dorms.)

Tenya has been considered naive in all things people. Being understanding, knowing social cues, being relaxed around his friends... bonding with the ones he cares about. Not that he isn’t trying though. As a hero, one needs to able to get along with citizens, as well as allies in the field. Present mic was the one he went to for help. Not only was the teacher amiable to all, Iida later learned the Hero used to struggle with understanding non-verbal signs from others.

Two weeks after his first lessons with Present mic, and three weeks after they moved in to the dorms; Tenya was patrolling the building at 9:53 p.m. making sure everyone was in there rooms. His classmates did have a habit of causing havoc, as well as not get enough sleep. A certain one liked to try to sneak into the female rooms at night. At 10 sharp the class representative was usually in bed, however...

“Midoriya? Are you okay?”

On the common room couch was a shaking Midoriya. He whipped around at the sound of Tenya’s voice, frantically wiping his eyes.

“Ah! Tenya, did I wake you? I’m sorry,” he said in a hoarse voice, looking at Iida’s pajamas. Iida narrowed his eyes slightly, before walking to the couch himself, and sitting down. It doesn't take a lesson to show Tenya one of his -dare he say- closest friends was upset.

“No, I was making sure everyone got to their rooms,” he said, a bit louder then attended. Present mic was trying to help him use a gentler voice, but seeing that the Hero had the same difficulty he wasn’t too successful. Midoriya looked down at his hands, before nodding.

“I’ll head to bed soon.” The way he spoke was sad, and very... un-Midoriya like.

“No, I’m not upset with you! Well, you shouldn’t really be up this late, we have a test in Modern Literature, Ectoplasm might be planning a pop quiz, he kept telling us to study toda-” Tenya rambled on until he noticed the tears in his friends eyes. Midoriya stood up quickly and scrubbed his eyes.

“You’re right. I should sleep, goodnight Tenya.” he said with a bow, and a semi-watery smile, before making a speedy exit out of the room.

“Midoriya, wait!” Tenya stood to follow, but decided against it. He might need some space, and maybe he did just need some sleep. Iida let out a breath before heading to his own dorm.

***

“Tenya, how’s the best little brother in the world doing?” Tensei said with a warm smile. Although he has gotten better from the night Stain attacked, he still spent half of his day in bed at his family’s house. He still manages to do hero work, studying up on villains, giving advice to fellow heroes, and sending orders to his group. Tenya tried to visit him as often as he can, but it has been difficult after everything that happened.

“Fine, how’s the best big brother doing?” he asked. Tensei gave him a thumbs up as Tenya lifted a small grocery bag, “I bought some grape juice, they ran out of the kind you like though, hope that’s okay.” Tensei Started to laugh

“It’s perfect, thank you so much!” Tensei moved his laptop and papers off the bed onto the hardwood floor to the right. “Here come sit down,” he says as he pats bed on the other side. Once Tenya was comfortable, Tensei spoke up again.

“You know its funny, mom took me out shopping up in the center of town. Bought you at least 20 gallons of orange juice!” He said, laughing again with Tenya

“Thanks for thinking of me.”

“Well, you thought of me too!”

Tenya smiled, before looking down at the quilted comforter. Tensei glanced over at his brother before tapping his shoulder twice, something he always did to get Tenya’s attention since he was a kid.

“Hey, is there something you want to talk?” he asked gently, “I’m willing to listen if it makes you feel better.”

“How did you know something was wrong? Did you learn that by being a hero?” Tenya asked shocked. Tensei threw an arm around his shoulders,

“I learned that from being an older brother,” he gives Tenya a little squeeze, “Its a lot easier to tell when someone you love is upset.” He sees Tenya look a little uncomfortable and quickly interjects, “For some people! A lot of times its hard for people to perceive things, and emotions are complicated things to understand, which is okay-”

“I know. I think I know what you mean... A close friend of mine has been upset lately. I- I don’t know how to help.” It’s true, that night he found Midoriya in the living room, Tenya thought his friend would feel better in the morning, but in class he wasn’t paying attention, and he didn’t finish the pop quiz in math (called it). What was more worrying was how he reacted to contact.

Kirishima was known to give bear hugs, and usually Midoriya loved them but In homeroom when Kirishima gave a hug from behind, he gasped and darted away. In hero studies, he and Sato were sparring, when Sato managed to gain the upper-hand, and pin him down. Tenya swore Midoriya was going to use Detroit smash at full force on poor Sato. Even contact from All might he seemed to avoid lately.

“Have you tried talking to them?”

“Yes! Well... no...There was an attempt. I believe I upset him.” Tenya said, adjusting his glasses.

“Did you lecture him?” Tensei asked.

“I wasn’t trying to, but I guess I was a little pushy about getting proper sleep.” Teya looked to his brother, “Why am I so bad at this? I’m his friend, I should be able to help him.”

“Hey, You can’t always solve everyone’s problems, it sucks but its true.” Tensei answered softly, “I don’t know who he is, but I believe one thing you should do is try to convince him to seek professional help.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, another thing is instead of talking to him, try listening.” Tensei reached over Tenya to grab a bottle of grape juice from the plastic bag, “Maybe he just needs a shoulder to cry on. Believe it or not, you are good to talk too.”

Tenya sat quiet for a few moments, before getting out of the bed.

“Tensei, would you mind if I went to go talk to someone?” Tenya asked with conviction in his voice.

“Good luck Tenya!” Tensei said pulling him into a hug, then ruffling his hair, “Don’t forget to take the orange juice with you.”

***

Taking a deep breath, Tenya knocked on Midoriya’s door.

“Midoriya? It’s me, I want to talk.” A few seconds ticked by making Tenya more anxious before he heard a muffled, ‘coming.’ Midoriya opened the door, looking rather exhausted. Had he always have bags under his eyes like that. “Can I come in?”

“Of course! Is everything alright Tenya? You look stressed,” Midoriya says.

“I was going to ask the same thing of you.” Tenya said. Midoriya sat on the edge of the bed, looking confused. He became even more confused when Tenya suddenly bowed.

“Tenya? Wha-”

“I need to apologize to you! As class representative, and your friend I should have made it easier to talk to me without making you feel I was lecturing you. I’m sorry Midoriya.” Tenya switch from bowing to kneeling so he was at eye level with him, “I want you to know I’m worried about you. You looked tried, you don’t eat much any more, and you won’t go near anyone.”

Midoriya breathing hitched, and quickly glanced away, “I’m sorry for making you worry. I’m fine really! It’s just been a rough week is all.”

Tenya sighed, before trying to mimic the smile Tensei used to comfort him for years, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Uh, I don’t want to waste your time.”

“Your not! Midoriya I know your sad, I know its hard to talk about being sad, but I’m here for you. I care about you, its- its almost like I have a younger brother in you.” Tenya stopped talking abruptly when he heard hiccups coming from his friend. Tears were rolling down his face, and a hand reached out to Tenya, which he immediately took.

“I- I almost died! At the traini- at the training camp, when i went to save Kota.” By now he was almost incoherent. “A villain almost killed me, he was crushing me!” he was sobbing now, leaning against Tenya’s chest as the engine hero shifted onto the bed.”I thought he would get to Kota too!” He wailed as Tenya gently placed an a hand on Midoriya’s trembling form.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t- the blankets crushing me, it feels like people are-” All words were lost to his cries. Tenya’s shirt was soiled by tears, but he didn’t mind. Tensei said to listen, so he would listen even if it was just tears. After awhile Midoriya cried himself out, still curled into Tenya’s chest.

“You know... you should tell a teacher about this.” Tenya said gently, as he brushed back Midoriya’s curls.

“I don’t know how. How am I suppose to tell them that any time I get touched or held in a way I can’t get out of, I think of a villain?” He asked in a shuddering breath. “I don’t want them to feel bad.” Tenya was silent for a few seconds before he spoke.

“The first thing I have to ask is if you are okay with the contact we have now?” Tenya asked. Midoriya nodded into his shirt. “Okay, second do you think hurt feelings are more important, than your mental health?” This time Midoriya paused for awhile before shaking his head no. “Midoriya i’m worried about you, I understand if you want to wait to tell, but whenever your ready, i’ll be there for you.”

“Like an older brother?” Midoriya asks with a sleepy giggle.

“Yes, though I warn you I’m new to this. I’ve never been an older brother before.” Tenya says

“I think you’re great.”

(Thanks for reading! I always wish they touch upon what Muscular did in the anime, ans how it effect Midoriya. Have a Nice day/night, plus ultra!)

#bhna #fanfic #platonic #bnha midoriya #iida tenya #midoryia izuku #iida tensei #brothers #bhna fanfiction #Deku

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imalreadyjudgingmyself · 5 years

Text

The Teacher Trap (Aizawa x Reader) P3

Teacher Trap Masterlist

So, you might be a little hungover right now. You blame Kayama. She invited you out to drinks last night. No, you blame yourself. After all, you said yes. Either way, your head is killing you, and of course, Kayama is perfectly fine (something you resent thoroughly).

“You wouldn’t be in pain if you had more of a tolerance.” Kayama playfully scolds you.

“I wouldn’t be in pain if you let me stop and drink water when I wanted to.” You reply sharply, ripping open the package of aspirin Kayama had handed to you.

“But you’re so cute when you’re drunk!” She slaps both of her hands to her face and lifts a leg, making kissy faces at you. You turn away from her sipping your tea, trying to focus on your plans for the day. “Plus, you talk a lot about a certain someone,” she whispers in your ear before licking your cheek.

“Okay,” you jump out of your seat. “You’re too much. I’m going to school, you can get ready or whatever, just make sure to lock the door on the way out.” You fly out the front door with your drink in hand and take off towards the subway.

You love Kayama, she’s a really sweet and smart woman. She can be a real handful though. She drank so much she was nearly blacked out, and you had to ‘carry’ her (for lack of a better word) to your apartment. No way you were letting her go with any strangers, not even a taxi driver. How she’s not hungover is a mystery you’ll never understand. You don’t know what she plans to wear to school today, hopefully not your clothing—that would be awkward, and you don’t really put it past her. Maybe you should go back.

The subway screeches as it pulls into the station. You sigh, whatever she has planned she needs to do it fast or else she’s going to be late. You stand on the far end of the subway, your hero instincts kicking in so you can survey the other passengers. You listen to morning chatter of the people around you, sighing as you feel the nagging headache pulse against your skull. It was a stupid decision, you shouldn’t drink the night before classes. It’s about then that you realize you left your lesson plans back at the house as well. Today is not going to be a good day.

You arrive at the station and take off towards the school. Hopefully, you’ll get there with enough time to rewrite the plans. You need to be efficient with your time, finals are coming soon. No distractions. You race up the steps of the school and reach the top before finally collapsing against the railings and taking a moment to breathe. Your head feels like it is going to implode, but once you catch your breath you take off up the hall. You open the door to the teachers' lounge a little too harshly and jump at the slamming noise it makes.

Everyone in the room turns to stare at you. Your face burns as you apologize and step into the room, rubbing your now ringing ear. You walk more cautiously towards your desk, now feeling all eyes on you. You sit down and pull some paper and a pen out of your desk. Okay, you were planning on doing a lab. Go you. You roll your eyes at your stupidity. Okay, textbook. You flip it open and begin rewriting the plans.

“Yooooo!” Yamada calls out way too loudly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. Head: pulsing. Ears: ringing. Mood: not in it. “You went out with Kayama last night, huh?” No volume control. None.

You take a breath before responding. “How’d you know?” You flinch at how ‘customer service’ your voice sounded.

Yamada pulls his phone out and starts scrolling through it as he says in a sing-song voice, “A little birdy told me.” Kayama not only sent him messages—she sent him pictures of you drunk off your ass. What god did you anger for the day to go this way?

“Leave them alone. Can’t you see they’re working.” Aizawa, your knight in shining armor, comes to the rescue. He pulls Yamada off of you and grumbles, “Something you should be doing as well.”

You smile lightly at that comment, murmuring a small “thank you,” before turning back to your work. You hide your burning face in the textbook. Kayama comes strutting in a few minutes later—wearing her hero costume (thank goodness but also how the heck did she get that) and holding your lesson plans. You nearly cry as she hands them to you. Maybe today won’t be that bad of a day after all.

Nevermind, you think to yourself as you watch smoke billow out of the laboratory windows. Everything was going great until class 1-A. You don’t even know what happened, but suddenly one of the containers at Mineta and Kaminari’s lab station started smoking. Kaminari grabbed the container without gloves but thankfully you used your quirk to rewind his actions and stop him from burning his hand. Then, you ordered the students to leave the classroom.

The fire alarms started going off with an earsplitting noise, making you slightly dizzy (or maybe it was the smoke). The chemicals in the experiment weren’t supposed to act like that. There should have been no chance of a fire. You covered your mouth and nose with your hand as you start processing the smell of sulfur. You thought of using the fire extinguisher but since you had no idea what chemicals the students stole to make that mess you couldn’t risk making the fire worse. The smoke has covered the ceiling by the time you left the classroom. You’ll just have to wait for the firemen to clear out so you can find out what Kaminari and Mineta stole to cause this reaction.

So, there you are, watching smoke billow out of the windows of your laboratory. Sitting on the ground, being checked out by a fireman. You warned the firemen before going in that you were afraid that there could be sulfur dioxide in the room, which led to your impromptu check up on the front lawn on the school. Thankfully, the firemen finally left and joined his team. You set your head in your hands. Don’t cry. Don’t CRY. DON’T CRY. This is your fault. You should have been keeping a better eye on the students. You have mentally revisited the beginning of class multiple times trying to figure out how the students got a hold of the chemicals. You never saw them even go near the chemical closet which is by your desk, so how could they have gotten something.

“Are you okay?” You jump slightly, leaning back and opening your eyes to see the Principal standing over you.

“Clean bill of health,” you say, giving a thumbs-up before moving to stand up.

“What happened?” The Principal asks, wringing his hands and looking over his shoulder at the lab.

You shrug before crossing your arms over your chest, “To be honest, I have no idea. I think the students go into the chemical closet somehow. But, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Nothing teenagers do makes sense,” Aizawa states coming up beside you, and your face dusts a light pink. “I wouldn’t put it past my students.”

“Well, I’m hoping to find out what chemicals caused this fire. I’m also hoping that there’s no damage to my equipment.” You trail off as you finish that statement. What would you even do if the lab is destroyed? You wouldn’t be fired, would you?

“Were you not able to rewind the fire?” The Principal asks.

“No, the two chemicals were already in the container so even if I rewound they would have just reacted again.” You slide your hands up to your shoulders, looking back over at the lab. At least it’s no longer smoking.

“It’ll be okay.” The Principal says kindly. “I’ll talk to the firemen, please let me know anything that you discover.” He then leaves to go talk to the firemen that are now packing up the truck. You sigh, watching the last of the firemen leave the laboratory. The principal gives you a thumbs-up and points at the lab. Another sigh.

A hand rests on one of your shoulders, and you look at Aizawa. He looks serious as always. “Mistakes happen. Don’t waste time worrying about it.”

You chuckle, and his hand slips off your shoulder as he fixes you with a glare. “Sorry, but you really need to work on your emotional support.” His scowl deepens, and he shoves his hands back into his pockets. You cough to kill the laugh bubbling up your throat. “I’m going to investigate the lab.” You say, turning back to face the mess.

“I’ll come with. I need to find out what student needs detention.” Using your quirk, it didn’t take long to figure out what had happened.

Mina cheered to herself internally all afternoon. Mind you, she really didn’t think the boys were dumb enough to catch the lab on fire, but you and Aizawa were pushed together, just as she hoped! The plan was actually for Kaminari to use the acid on Mineta’s pop-offs to cause chaos and for you to have to talk to Aizawa about it (don’t worry she had a plan to save the grape—no matter how much she’d like to see him suffer). But looks like the boys teamed up to do something extra stupid. In the end, she got what she wanted so, no big deal. At least that’s what she thought until she, Kaminari, and Mineta were pulled from their heroics class halfway through. They came face to face with an extremely peeved Aizawa (and a very nervous you), who gave them detention until the end of the semester. Ashido tried to play the victim but Aizawa was not having it. So—this plan was a bit of a bust. But she won’t give up!

After school, you are talking to Aizawa about the students’ detention. You felt it was a little harsh and are trying your best to defend them. Of course, Aizawa’s having none of it, and to be fair, he has a lot of good points. You exit the teachers' lounge together and notice Midoriya standing outside, nervously fidgeting. You assume he’s there for Yagi when he nervously calls out, “P-professor!” You pause, and so does Aizawa.

“Yes?” You ask, nervously. Aizawa leans against the rails, looking out over the campus. You turn back towards Midoriya, who notices Aizawa as well.

“Y-you’re Re-Action, right?” He asks excitedly, becoming starry-eyed. You cringe at the mention of your hero name. Ugh, it’s so clunky and awkward, and you thought it was sooooooo cool when you came up with it in high school. You swear you almost head Aizawa snicker. “You rewound Kaminari in class today, didn’t you? Wow, you were even in the top ten for a while.” You cringe again. It was just a week, and it was terrifying. Many heroes are jealous of the top ten, and you had accidentally beaten out the tenth rank. You almost shudder at the memory of the glares you received. They weren’t very hero-like. You notice Midoriya has started to murmur to himself, which makes you even more anxious.

“U-uh.” You say, trying to figure out how to stop him. You wrap your arms around yourself.

Thankfully, Aizawa is your knight in shining armor for the second time today. “Midoriya, you should be heading home.”

Midoriya flushes, realizing he had been murmuring. “Y-yes, sir!” He then turns around to leave. Still, Midoriya is observant, and he saw how you and Aizawa walked to the entrance together, as well as the flush of pink in your face as you headed your separate ways. Midoriya remembers Mina trying to recruit him a few days ago to the “make our teachers fall in love squad” (motfil (pronounced like the French words “mot” and “fil” because guess who) squad for short) and suddenly, he doesn’t think her idea is that random after all. Maybe he should rethink his membership.

A/N: Wow, this part is ridiculously longer than the others. Hopefully, that'll make it worth the wait? I have started college again so the updates on this will be sporadic at best. Don’t ask me about Mina’s plan. I know it’s dumb, I just could think of anything better. I love that Midoriya part at the end tho. I think it’s pretty funny tbh. So, yeah, your quirk allows you to rewind a person or object up to two minutes. But there’s also an investigation side that allows you to rewind a “scene” to see things that have happened. In that, the people themselves are not truly rewound but you can see the events leading up to an accident. Neither of these events actually mess with time itself, which is why Midoriya was able to recognize that you had rewound Kaminari. Idk if that makes any sense at all, oh well, I tried. Btw all the likes and reblogs are killing my heart. I don’t deserve it, haha. Also, I’m having a lot of fun just exploring your relationship with other teachers. After all, you do have a life outside of your crush on Aizawa. Hopefully, you guys’ll bear with me cause I think it’s important to flesh out yourself as a character too. Idk. Anyway, hope you enjoyed. Have a wonderful day!

#aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader

235 notes · View notes

g-on-ef · 5 years

Note

Bakumomo bakugo getting protective Momo when Mineta talks about her

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A/N:Anon you are officially my favorite person !!! You have no idea how long I’vebeen waiting for a prompt like this to pop up ^^

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Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t a morning person, yes, he got upearly to do his early workouts, and to get some hero training in, not tomention he always woke up early to catch a glimpse of his sleeping beauty.

For the past six months Bakugou has been dating one ofthe most beautiful beings to ever exist. It still surprised him that she saidyes, that she would agree to date him, sure he acted cocky and had a huge egobut in all reality he did have some insecurities and asking out his Beautiful madehim nervous as hell but her saying yes brought joy to his life, they have beenhappy together for the past six months and if Bakugou was honest he could seethe two of them being together for a long time.

It was one of the main reasons why he always woke early,just to catch a glimpse of her sleeping. Stroking her face Bakugou allowed asmall smile to form on his face. He moved some of her hair out of her face andcontinued to stare at her as she slept.

She was beautiful even in her sleep, of course he had toleave soon. If any of their classmates caught him coming out her room, theywould get the wrong idea. Yes, they were a couple but they haven’t gone that faryet, hell the only reason why the two slept in the same bed was because shestill had nightmares from their summer camp trip that happened eight monthsago.

He didn’t blame her for having any nightmares, she wasthe only one to be attack by that Nomu, the only way she slept comfortably waswhenever he was near and if him being near made her sleep then he had no troublesneaking in her room or her in his so she could get some rest.

“Youreally are my hero, you know that Katsuki?”

Those words warm his heart and made him promise that hewill do anything and everything to protect her. Sure, she could take care ofherself hell she showed him that she was more than capable of handling herselfbetween a fight between him, Deku, and the half-and-half bastard.

Still, it didn’t stop him from wanting to protect herfrom other things, like that pervert Mineta, Neither Bakugou or her made it asecret that they were together, hell the first day she made it clear thatKatsuki was taken, one thing no one ever expect Momo Yaoyorozu was a verypossessive person and if Bakugou was honest with himself it did turn him on alittle.

Still, the grape headed freak couldn’t take a hint thatshe was taken and even if she wasn’t she would still not get with someone likethat freak.

Momo’s body got closer to his and snuggled closer to hisheat.

“Hmm, go back to sleep,”

Bakugou laughed a little as he wrapped his arm around herand pulled her closer.

“How do you even know that I am awake?”

“You always wake up around this time to do your work outsand to see me sleep,”

Bakugou laughed a little,

“So, you knew this whole time I was watching you asleep huh?”

“Yeah, it’s okay…I always go to sleep late to see yousleep as well,”

“Hmmm,”

The two were silent for a moment before Bakugou lean forwardand kissed her forehead.

“I have to get up Beautiful,”

“No, five more minutes,”

“Sorry, Beautiful but if I don’t leave now then someonewill see me coming out of your room and get the wrong idea,”

“So? I thought you didn’t care about what people think ofyou?”

“I don’t, hell people can say whatever they want aboutme, you on the other hand…I’ll kill anyone who bad mouths you,”

Momo giggled a little before lifting her head up to lookat him, steel grey eyes stare into crimson red, Momo loved his eyes, the onething she loved the most about his physical appearances were his eyes. Theyalways showed Momo everything he was thinking and everything he was feeling; andright now, she could see the love and adoration he had for her.

Smiling she lean down and gave him a sweet kiss, Katsukikissed her right back, cupping her face he ran his thumb across her cheek.

The two pulled apart and smiled at one another.

“Stay? Please?”

And how could he say no to that?

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“Yamomo? Yamomo? Wake up! Come on Sato made breakfast! Ifwe don’t hurry up then it’s gonna be all gone!” Ashido said.

“Yeah! Kamanari and Sero are already eating the pancakesand Shoji is almost done with the bacon!” Uraraka complained alongside her friend.

Momo heard the pounding on her door, opening her eyes shelooked at the door and saw her doorknob moving around, looking next to her shesaw that Bakugou wasn’t lying next to her but a note.

She picked it up and read it,

“Leftaround 7:30, sorry I didn’t wake you, but I wanted to give you an hour of rest,Love you see ya later,”

Momo smiled a little, looking at the clock she saw thatBakugou left five minutes ago. Yawning a little she stretched her body to wakeher up a little, once she stretched out the kinks of her body she got outta bedand headed to her closet, she quickly dressed and walked outside to see Minaand Ochako.

“Morning girls,” she smiled at her two friends, saidfriends grabbed her and dragged her downstairs to get some food.

Once the reached the dinning area they saw that breakfastwas nearly done.

“Hey you guys, saved you some breakfast,” Kirishima saidas he gave Ashido and Uraraka a plate of food the two thanked him beforeKirishima told Momo,

“Bakugou saved you a plate it’s in the microwave,”

“Thank you Kiri,” she walked over to the microwave andpulled out her plate, she was thankful that he saved her a plate since he knewhow much food she consumed in order for her quirk to function properly.

Sitting down she ate her food in silence as her friendsdiscussed the upcoming dance.

Once she was done she grabbed her plate and washed it asquickly as she could, if she hurried she could reach the training area and watchBakugou train.

Once she was done she headed out, waving good-bye sherushed to the training room, thankful that they had no classes.

Her outfit consisted of shorts with combat boots and ashirt that had the words GROUND ZERO (Bakugou’s hero name) written across it.

As she was hurrying, she didn’t see a round purple ballon the floor, she stepped on it and fell down.

“Ahh!” as she was falling she caught herself with herarms before she could hit the ground.

“What the?”

Turning around she saw the her foot was stuck to a purpleball.

“What the-ugh, MINETA!”

Mineta couldn’t help but cheer as his plan worked he got Momoright where he wanted her.

“Hello gorgeous,”

Momo glared at the purple freak. Seriously, what the helldid he wanted.

“What do you want Mineta?”

She got up and tried to untie her boot, she was angry fortwo reasons.

The first is the wannabe hero kept her held up from goingto see Bakugou and now she had to remove her favorite pair of boots because shewas certain that Mineta wasn’t going to let her go until he says so, whichknowing him will be never.

Once her foot was free she made another boot and put itback on.

“Well I wanted to talk to you,”

“About what pervert?” since dating Bakugou she could saythat he was rubbing off on her.

“Well, you know the dance is next Saturday,”

“And?” she was getting annoyed with him.

“And? Momo I am trying to ask you out-“

“Mineta, I am not sure what rock you’ve been living underbut I am dating Katsuki, which means I am going to go to the dance with him nowif you’ll excuse me I have to go,”

She ran away from him and headed towards the traininggrounds.

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The weekend went by and it was time to head back toclasses, Aizawa decided that today would be a team exercise and he selectedsome random students together, Bakugou had to admit, he was thankful that Momowas paired with Shoji, the eight arm hero was great friends with Momo and hewas always making sure that Mineta-who unfortunately was on the same team asher-behaved himself.

His team which consisted of Todoroki, Koda, Tenya, andJiro were able to work together and succeed on their mission.

So far everyone has been able to succeed their missionnow it was just Momo and her team. So far, they were doing a good job, until itcame down to climbing the wall. Mineta of course wanted Momo to go first, butShoji and Sato told him it be best he goes first so he could use his quirk to puthis balls on the wall so the rest could climb.

He agreed, only because he knew Bakugou was watching ifhe saw that he was looking up Momo’s hero outfit he knew that the ashy blondhero would kill him without a second thought.

Once they hopped over the wall, they pressed the buttonto stop the timer.

Bakugou beam with pride as he saw that Momo and her teamhad the best time, of course her team would be on top. Her strategy was flawless,she made sure she used everyone strengths to her advantage, and that theycovered each other’s weaknesses she did a phenomenal job and couldn’t stop thegrin on his face even if he wanted to.

“Alright everyone, head for the showers,” they all walkedover to the showers all talking about the exercise and what could’ve been donebetter or what they thought was amazing from their classmates work.

Bakugou was the first one done and headed outside, helean against the wall waiting for Momo to come out, he heard the door to theboys locker room opening before hearing voices.

“I’m telling you; you have to get a look at the hole Ifound,”

“Mineta I don’t think it’s a good idea to spy on thegirls while they are dressing,”

The fuck? Was the purple hair freak taking a peek at thegirls again?

“Oh, come one Kaminari, don’t you want to see Jiro undressor better yet Momo?” Bakugou’s body stiffen at the mention of Momo’s name.

“Dude you do know Momo is dating Bakugou right? If heheard you-“

“Don’t worry about it I doubt he knows or anything hellyou’re the only one I’m telling this too. But seriously Kaminari you should seeinside that hole, I have the perfect view of Momo in her cute bar and matchingpanty set, now if only she would change there instead of in the showers then Ican die peacefully! I’m telling you Kaminari, her hero costume does her nojustice with the way her body is, now if only I can get her alone and trap herwith my quirk so I can feel how soft her boobs really are under my hands”

That…that perv! How dare he talk about Momo like she’s apiece of meat?! More importantly how dare he take a peak of not only her butthe other girls as well.

Bakugou was fuming mad, when he saw Mineta and Kaminari turningthe corner he could see how furious Kaminari was, he could also see thatKaminari was ready to lecture the purple headed freak but Bakugou decided heneeded to be taught a lesson.

If Iida their class rep. couldn’t handle him the Bakugouwas going to teach him to respect women especially his.

“Hey Grape face!”

Minieta turned to see and angry Bakugou he could feel hisface turn white as he realized that he may have overheard their conversation,no wait he most definitely did.

“Ba-Bakugou wh-what are you-“ was all he got out beforeBakugou’s fist hit his face. Minieta went flying and landed hard on the ground.

Bakugou stomped his way to Mineta and Kaminari was smartenough to not stop him, he knew Bakugou heard them and knew that he was pissed.

Bakugou grabbed him by the collar and slammed him to thewall.

“Listen here you sick fuck! I don’t know what U.A. wasthinking putting someone like you intothe school but it stops now!”

“Now, now wait a minute Bakugou before you do any-“

“Shut the fuck up! You fucktard took a peak at Momo?! At Momo,when she made it perfectly clear that she’s not interested and instead ofrespecting her choice you keep trying to throw yourself at her! What’s worse isyou just violated her when she was at her must vulnerable!”

“Vulnerable?! Bakugou you and I both know Momo isn’t weak!”

Bakugou slammed him against the wall causing him to losehis breath.

“You took a peek at her when her guard was down! When shefinds out what you did she will feel unsafe and would have to look over hershoulder to make sure no one is spying on her! You took advantage of asituation and instead of telling a teacher so they could cover it up you decidedto use it to look at Momo undress! You’re scum!”

Bakugou lifted his fist and punched him square in the jawknocking the boy unconscious.

“What’s going on?!” both Kaminari and Bakugou turned tosee Midnight running towards them.

“This fucker here was taking a peak at Momo and the girlsas they undressed!” Bakugou said pointing towards Mineta.

“What?!”

“It’s true Ms. Midnight, he was bragging to me aboutlooking at the girls as they undressed,”

The R-rated hero looked like she was seconds away frombreath fire, she grabbed Mintea by the scruff of his neck and dragged him away.

“Thank you for telling me boys, I’ll let the principal knowexactly what happened here,”

She dragged the boy away and Bakugou knew without a doubtthat he was going to get expelled.

“Katsuki?”

Bakugou turned to see Momo and the rest of the girlsstanding behind him, Bakugou walked over to her and wrapped his arms aroundher. He was angry, furious that someone spied on her and it was takingeverything in him not to go over to Midnight and kill Mineta for what he did.

“Katsuki,”

“Let’s go to my room,” he left no room for argument anddragged her to his room.

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Both Midnight and Aizawa informed them that Mineta hasbeen expelled from the school and will no longer be attending any hero schools.Everyone was glad that the pervert was gone and most of the girls were a littleworried to use the locker rooms, Midnight however, assured them the hole wasclose and that she would along with the rest of the female faculty will makesure there were no other things lurking around to spy on them.

Momo and Katsuki were lying on his bed, she had her armswrapped around him while he held onto her, he was a bit worried since she hasn’tsaid anything and was scared that she might have been frighten or worse.

Momo pulled away from Bakugou and looked at him, crimsonred meet steel gray before Momo smiled and lean down and kissed him. When theypulled apart Bakugou stroke her cheek,

“Not that I’m thankful for the kiss but, are you okay?”

“Of course I am,”

“Momo, it’s me, you don’t have to lie to me. If you’rescared tell me, if what you found out about Mineta disgust you and you need torant I am here to listen to you,”

“I know, but honestly I’m not bothered, actually the onlything that upsets me is that it took this long to expelled that pervert but forthe rest…yes it bugs and disturbs me that he was staring at us girls as weundressed, but…I am happy for one thing,”

“And what’s that?” Momo looked at him with a beautifulsmile that it filled Bakugou’s heart filled with warmth as his own smile startedto form on his face.

His Beautiful’s smile was slowly becoming a part of his.

“Because my Hero was there to save me once again,”

And that made Bakugou lean forward and kiss her pouringas much love as he could into the kiss.

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A/N: So I may or may not have gone overboard … oh well, love it hate it tell me what you guys thing ^^ also

If you have any Damijon, Bakumomo, Tododeku, Dabihawks, Tomco, birdflash, jayroy, timkon, or jaytim fics then send them my way ^^

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#answers asked #anonymous #anon #prompts #prompt fill #writing prompt #bakumomo #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #momo yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu momo #boku no hero academia #protective bakugou #my hero academia

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daysswithyou · 6 years

Text

I. Young K - Promise

Characters: Young K x OC

Genre: fluff, slice of life

Words: 2.3k

Description: enemies to lovers! young k

A/N: Part I of the enemies to lovers series - featuring our reliable bassist!

---

All he could see ahead was miles and miles of cars, their blinding red rear lights distorting his vision. The exhaust from other cars made it hard to breathe and in his mind, he was cursing and swearing at those with cigarettes hanging from the tip of their fingers outside of their car windows; he didn't need the second hand smoke to accelerate his death.

His meeting was in 15 minutes and the cars in front of him were crawling forward at a snail's pace. Frustrated, he raved the engine of his motorcycle and tried to manoeuvre in the tight space between your vehicle and the car beside you. He moved forward at great speed but by the time he realised what was happening, it was too late. The front of his motorbike collided with the side of your car, the impact sending his bike sideways before he got thrown off his bike.

Lying on the sidewalk, the pain in his hand and leg began to set it. Using his left hand to clutch onto his injured right hand, he hissed in pain as he shot you a glare but the sight of you left him in absolute disbelief. Instead of showing care and concern for someone that you injured (like he expected you too), he found you inspecting the dent in the side of your car. He was sure the furrow in your brows was due to the pain of having to pay the high price for the car repairs, and not out of worry for him.

"Hey! You right there!"

"What!"

You finally turned around only to snap at him, and his jaw dropped open further, letting out a scoff at your attitude.

"Lady, you've just injured someone and you're more concerned about your car than a living human being? You're amazing."

"Hey, it's not my fault that you came hurtling at my car out of nowhere so stop using that tone at me."

"Have you no sympathy in your heart for an injured man?"

"I have none for rude and irresponsible people like you."

Nonetheless, despite your sharp tongue, he could see you whip out your phone to dial for the ambulance before you came over to secure his bleeding arm for him.

When the ambulance came, two men rushed to him. Between their moving figures that blocked you from his view, he could make out your busy figure in the back of the ambulance as you set up the equipment to test his vitals.

"She's a nurse?"

"Who are you referring to?"

The young male with sharp angular features that was tending to his arm caught onto his question and was now staring at Young K with bright doe eyes, his hands working on the procedure that he's done repeatedly for years.

"I’m referring to that girl in the back of the van. She's a nurse too?"

"Y/N? Yea she's one of us, but she’s a doctor, what about it?"

"How did she even get to become a doctor?"

The young male (whom he now knew as Wonpil - courtesy of his nametag) was now staring at Brian as if he's grown an extra head.

"What has she ever done to you?"

"She? She's the reason that you're here right now! She knocked me down and she cared more about her car than me!"

"Well, I guess that means you're a pretty shitty person."

Wonpil then carried on with his work nonchalantly and all Brian could do was roll his eyes in response, both his arms immobilised.

Amidst the drawl of the traffic around them, your clear voice cut through the din to reach the trio.

“Wonpil-ah!”

“Yes?”

“Is he done?”

“I haven’t taken a look at his leg yet!”

“It’s ok. Load him into the van first. We got to clear the tunnel. I’ll deal with his leg, you drive. Dowoon, take my car please.”

Both boys nodded in understanding before Wonpil grabbed Brain by the arms and loaded him onto the stretcher and the van.

When the door slammed shut and you turned to face him with daggers shooting out of your eyes, Brian felt like a piece of meat ready to be devoured by the female tigress.

“I need you to sit back and relax.”

“Lady, you really expect me to when you’re looking at me like you want to murder me?”

“My job to save lives Mr Bigshot, not snuff them out, in case you haven’t realised.”

Again, you fixed him with your signature stare.

Still, he refused to and instead, crossed his arms as he fixed you with an equally hard stare.

This time round, you gritted your teeth and made sure to slam the bottle of saline solution hard to prove your point.

Seeing that you meant business, Brian slowly unfolded his arms and leaned back as he was told to before you proceeded to roll up his pants to inspect his leg.

He watched in silence as you went about cleaning his superficial wounds, occasionally letting out a hiss when you hit a fresh wound. He noticed how he pursed your lips tight whenever you got to a particularly nasty wound, and how your breath immediately slowed, almost as though you didn’t want to disturb the patient. He continued watching as your eyebrows furrowed before you stood to give him his diagnosis.

“Your calf and ankle are swelling rather badly, especially your ankle. We’ll need to get an X-ray on that.”

“How bad is it?”

“I can’t say for sure but it’s got at least be a hairline fracture.”

The van then skidded to a stop before the doors flew open and Brian was transferred into Wonpil’s reliable hands again.

“Get him into an X-ray room, I’ll be there once I’m dressed.”

And so Brian lay there waiting on the hard metallic table for 10 minutes before you finally showed up.

“Finally you’ve arrived Good Doctor, thy patient has died from excessive bleeding.”

“Oh stop being so dramatic you wimp, I was only gone for 10.”

Even through the thick black glass separating you and him, Brian could spot the scowl that was clearly drawn across your face as you aggressively punched buttons on the panel to get the machine working.

“Excuse me, I don’t think a patient should be left alone at any point in time?”

Before he could even fully crane his neck to look at you, you screeched at him through the speakers.

“Would you stop moving around? I can’t get a good scan of your leg!”

For the second time that day, Brian laid back and shut his mouth on your orders and from the corner of his eye, he could see Wonpil stifling his laughter behind his fingers.

As Wonpil was putting the cast around his leg, Brian decided to interrogate him again.

“Is she always like that? Crazily snapping at people?”

“No. She’s pretty ok on normal days.”

“But she snaps at me all the time?”

“See, this is why she snaps at you all the time. You ask too many stupid questions.”

Curse this redhead and the Lady. I got to make them pay.

Looking out of the window, he spotted your scratched up car and he knew just the thing to do.

Within the next hour, you were back in his room to check on his vitals and that’s when Brian breached the topic.

“Hey Lady… about your car…”

“I haven’t gotten a quote on how much insurance you need to pay me, we’ll talk about this another time.”

“I never said I was going to pay.”

“WHAT?”

Your pen slid past the entire page, leaving a thick, ugly line across the paper.

“You heard me. I never said I was going to pay.”

He then popped a grape into his mouth and sunk back into his pillow, his arms comfortably placed behind his back as he watched your livid facial expression with glee from beneath hooded eyelids.

“You can’t do that.”

“Well, if I don’t want to pay, what can you do about it?”

And he has a point. I can’t win this fight with brute force.

You did the mental math in your head and you decided that you needed him to pay. Buying that car had drained you of your savings and you couldn’t afford another thousand dollar repair. Besides, it was partly your fault too. You should have looked before swerving out.

“How about we strike a deal?”

“Excellent! That was exactly what I had in mind.”

“So what is your proposition?”

“Be at my beck and call for my 3 day stay in the hospital. I promise I’ll pay for the insurance after that.”

After 10 minutes of unsuccessful bargaining, you left the room with a newly printed chart and a verbal promise by Brian to pay for your car repairs.

True to his word, Brian kept you busy for the next 3 days.

Unless he was sleeping, you had to be the runner for all his errands.

By the end of the first day, you had already gotten him sashimi for lunch, and picked up his books from his friend, Jae, just so that he can read them all.

On the second day, he texted you for an Iced Americano for his morning breakfast and apart from accidently spilling it all over your white satin blouse, you had also sprained your ankles as you stumbled over the curb by the parking spot. So, apart from ruining your outfit, you had to spend money on 2 Iced Americanos.

“That took you long enough Lady.”

“Yea, yea I know. Here’s what you asked for.”

“Thank you. Eh? What’s with that brown stain on your coat?”

“Nothing. Does your leg still hurt?”

“No but-”

“Good. Can’t talk, I got other patients to attend to.”

Were his eyes playing tricks on him, or did he notice a hobble in your step and some redness around your ankles?

“Could you pass me a cookie Wonpil?”

“We ran out but you can have mine.”

“Thanks.” You took his Subway cookie and took a bite out of it before exhaling.

“Why are you so busy these past 2 days?”

“Got to…do…stuff…”

“Stuff like?”

“I’ve been running errands for Brian.”

“Is that why you have a stain on your favourite satin blouse and a swollen ankle?”

“Yes.”

“The heck Y/N. Why are you still doing it for him then?”

“We had a deal and I feel bad for injuring him.”

“Well, that’s his problem! He swerved into your lane.”

“Ah it’s ok Wonpil. He’s only going to be here till tomorrow anyways. I can last another 24 hours. Thanks for the cookie! By the way, aren’t you supposed to be at the children’s ward by now?”

“Oh yes. Catch you later! I’ll patch up that ankle of yours.”

“Thanks Wonpil.”

Just as Wonpil moved into his sight, Brian moved into the shadows and immediately dialled for his friend.

“Hey Jae. Do you think you can get me a new female blouse and a pair of slippers for me? And no, don’t ask me why, just do it, please.”

When you came hurtling into his room with a few strands of your hair astray, Brian had to stifle his laughter.

“Oh God, Brain, are you ok?”

“I’m fine!”

“What? Then why did you press the button for?”

When he smiled knowingly at you, you marched up to him as he put up his arm in defence.

“Woah Lady-”

“Kang. Young. Hyun. This button is not for you to play around with! It says “For Emergency Use Only” This isn’t an emergency!”

You snatched the red button out of his hands and slammed it down beside his bed before you proceeded to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ears.

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to talk.”

“Just wanted to talk – pfft. I’m leaving.”

“No I’m serious, wait.”

Before you could take another step away from him, he caught onto the ends of your sleeve and you decided to grace him with just 5 minutes of your attention.

“You have 5 minutes. Shoot.”

“I heard your conversation with Wonpil today-”

“You mean you eavesdropped on us.”

“It was unintentional! I just happened to be wheeling myself along the corridors-”

“It’s fine, just carry on.” You had said as you waved him on with a flick of your wrist.

“That means I heard about your morning misadventures and I got you these as an apology. I’m sorry.”

“What are these?” You questioned as you peered into the bag.

“Just open it. You’ll see.”

You reached in and felt the smooth satin material against your fingers before you pulled out the blouse.

“I don’t think it’s the exact same one as the one you are wearing now but I hope it suffices. I also got you a pair of flats – thought it would be better for your ankle.”

“Thank…you. Anything else that I should know?”

“No – wait, actually yes.”

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

“If I ever asked you out, would you say yes?”

“I’ll… consider.”

Watching your retreating back, he smiled softly as he thought to himself: At least she didn’t flatly reject me.

The next day, when you came back with his form of approval for discharge signed, Brian was already sitting by the edge of the bed, waiting for you.

Placing the form in front of him, you said, “Here you go Mr Bigshot. Hopefully I’ll never have to see you again.”

“Aww come on, don’t be so mean. Give me your hand.”

You opened your palm without hesitation and he placed a pink slip of paper in it.

“Do I read it now?”

“Go ahead.”

The front was a simple IOU of the car repairs but the essence of his message was written at the back, in which it said:

“Next Friday after you end work? I’ll pick you up here. Dinner’s on me; I promise I’ll pay!”

When you looked up, Brian was holding out his pinky figure towards you and you hooked onto it with your own tightly, an eyesmile forming on his face as you did so.

“Promise.”

#day6writersnet #day6 #young k imagines #young k scenarios #young k #brian kang #kang younghyun #i havent written in really long so I hope this is up to standard!#pls leave me feedback...?#it means so much #thank you!#hope you enjoyed this one :)

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spxderman-s · 7 years

Text

I Hope That’s A Yes

requested: hi, if you're still taking requests i was wondering if you'd write a peter parker x reader imagine about him taking her to another homecoming or a prom, like maybe how he asks her and the dance itself? maybe he's her first kiss?

send your requests here!

word count: 1880

pairing: peter parker x reader

warnings: some mean names, some bad words.

a/n: so i tweaked it just a LIL bit, hopefully it still works out!! this was so fun to write because its not the usual personality i give Y/N, compared to my other fics. im also sorry to the anon who requested it, i know its been awhile!! but here you darlings go!

tagging: @tronnoristheotp @nedthegay @i-saved-me @theweirdowithablogo @skymoonandstardust @timemngmtoptimisationproblems @thumper-darling @holywinchesterness @grabyourpolaroidandmyhand @ketterdame

“If I have to see one more person put on a giant performance just to ask someone to homecoming--” you complained as you and your friends watched Flash ask some poor girl in an extremely over-the-top manner, “--I’m gonna puke.”

“I think it’s romantic,” Ned said, pulling apart a banana. “In a weird, disgusting way.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your focus back to your homework that was due next class. “It’s obnoxious, especially for someone like him.”

Peter laughed into his sandwich. “I don’t know what you expected, [Y/N], the guy’s name is Flash.”

“Touche.”

As if he could hear you, your greasy classmate swaggered over with his arm draped over his new date’s shoulders. “You nerds better start getting to asking someone to the dance,” Flash drawled, ruffling Peter’s hair with entirely too much force. “Especially you, Penis Parker. You don’t wanna show up alone, do you?” With a malicious laugh, he steered himself and the girl he was with away.

“God, what a tool,” you muttered. “Seriously, Parker--you need to just pop him one time, right in his smug mouth.”

Peter chuckled, fixing his hair. “He’s not worth it.”

Shrugging, you fixated your glare onto Flash as he was leaving the cafeteria, feeling your hands curl into fists. If Peter won’t stand up to him, you definitely would take that opportunity for him.

“Hey, Flash!” you called, your voice echoing across the room. He turned around, his lip curled in a cruel grin.

“[Y/N], don’t,” Peter hissed.

You shushed him. “I know what I’m doing.” You stood up, palms flat on the table. Both of your friends were looking up at you, terrified of what you would say or do. “Peter already has a date, so quit sticking your prick in his business.”

That was enough to get Flash back to your table. He placed his hands roughly on Peter’s shoulders, and leaned down. “Penis Parker got a date?” He guffawed, loudly. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

“That lucky guy,” you said through clenched teeth, feeling your fists twitching--begging to just land one good punch in Flash’s face, “happens to be me. So get your slimy hands off of him--unless you wanna give me a run for my money.”

Flash immediately took his hands off of Peter, and took a large step back. “He--you--he asked you?”

Peter was staring up at you in astonishment, and also confusion.

“Is that a problem?” you asked, warning in your voice.

“It’s--it’s not really my business,” he muttered, before turning away and leaving the cafeteria.

You sat down again, satisfied, flipping the page of your homework. Ned cleared his throat loudly, causing you to raise your eyes to him, who stared at you with huge eyes.

“What the hell was that?” Ned exclaimed, looking between you and Peter, who was still staring at you with his mouth slightly open.

“Look, he can’t keep treating you like this,” you said, crossing your arms. “I’m tired of seeing you get treated like this--you don’t deserve it.” After a moment passed, they still didn’t change their expressions. You slammed your notebook closed. “I’ll see you guys in P.E, alright?”

“C’mon, Peter. Just do like, one more,” you coaxed. “Coach Wilson isn’t anywhere near us.”

Peter groaned and did another sit-up. “[Y/N], about earlier today--”

“Don’t mention it.”

“No--I….well, first of all, thanks for sticking up for me,” he said. “But….were you serious? About--about going as m-my date?”

You didn’t say anything at first. “Do you want to go?”

Peter sat up all the way to look at you. “Kind of,” he replied sheepishly.

“Okay,” you shrugged. “But you have to ask me.”

“But you just asked me!”

“Did I?”

Peter stuttered out some words, a blush rising in his cheeks. You patted his knee, and moved to take his place to do your share of sit ups. As you moved, Peter rolled to his feet and stood up.

“I have a question to ask you,” he spoke loudly, his voice echoing through the gym, everyone stopping and staring at him. Your eyes widened and you shook your head vehemently at him, but Peter ignored you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you hissed at him, blushing furiously.

He moved and stood on the first step of the bleachers. “I only asked you in private,” he went on in the same clearly audible voice, “but [Y/N], will you do me the absolute honor of being my date to homecoming?”

Peter’s words hung in the silence, until you realized everyone was waiting for your answer. Looking around, you returned your glare to him and spoke through your teeth, “Yes.”

He returned to sitting beside you on the mat. “There. Was that good enough?”

“Peter Parker,” you growled, trying to keep your thoughts in order and your head on straight. “You--you--”

“I hope that’s a yes.”

“Sweetheart, there’s someone at the door for you!” your mother called down the hall. “I think it’s Peter--are you two going to the dance together?”

You fiddled with the neckline of your dress, staring at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t believe that you wanted to actually look good for Peter--but ever since he embarrassed you in the gym last week, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. At first, you tried your hardest to push the rising feelings far, far away, but they kept resurfacing every time he looked at you, laughed, every time he ate a damn grape. Was he always this attractive? And smart, and funny?

“[Y/N]?” your mother called again. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a second,” you shouted back. You tugged at a lock of curled hair, and decided it would have to be good enough. You closed your bedroom door, stuffed your phone and some cash in your clutch, and entered your living room.

Peter stood there talking with your mother. He looked incredibly handsome in a freshly ironed suit, his hair combed to get the curl perfect, flashing his award-winning smile. You gulped, feeling your heart begin to race, and you almost turned around and went right back into the safety of your room.

Your mother noticed you first, who clapped her hands and exclaimed in joy. “You look so pretty, sweetheart.”

You met Peter’s gaze, who was staring at you in wonder. He held a small bouquet of daisies in his hand, with a corsage and pin in the other.

“Wow,” he breathed, before shaking himself and stepping towards you while holding out the flower pin. “I--uh--bought this today. I think you’re supposed to pin this on my suit.”

“Wait, wait!” your mother cried, holding up her camera. “Smile, kids!”

You groaned, but obliged. After pinning the flower to his suit, Peter clasped the corsage to your wrist, his fingertips lingering for a moment that raised goosebumps on your skin.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered to you.

Looking to him, you made a mental note of how close his lips were to yours. You had never once thought of kissing him before, but now….

“Your tie is crooked,” you said bluntly, reaching up and fixing it, mentally kicking yourself. “Sorry--that was rude. You….you look really handsome, Parker.”

He smiled, and you both posed for the countless pictures your mother begged for, your heart racing and palms beginning to sweat at how he held your waist so tightly, the familiar scent of his cologne dabbed onto the hollow in his throat, and the way the butterflies in your stomach fluttered relentlessly whenever his brown eyes landed on you.

The music throughout the gym was booming, the bass shaking the entire building. The laser lights danced across the walls, ceiling, and the large mass of dancing students in the middle of the floor. Peter guided you over to the refreshment table, offering you a cup of punch.

“I don’t really know how to dance,” you shouted over the music, accepting the cup and taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t either,” he shouted back. You laughed, and bobbed your head along with the music. It was something that you probably wouldn’t listen to willingly, but you had it admit--it was catchy. Pretty soon you were tapping your feet and swaying side to side with the beat.

“We can both make fools of ourselves out there together,” you spoke in his ear, grabbing his arm and steering him towards the group of dancers. He protested, stammering about really not knowing how to dance, but pretty soon you were surrounded by dancing people. Peter started swaying awkwardly, but after a few more minutes of the catchy beat, you were both getting more and more comfortable and having a good time. With having Peter so close, the good music and flashing lights, you felt like you were floating on a cloud.

“Alright, we’re gonna have a little tune change--time to slow things down a bit,” the DJ drawled into the mic, fiddling with some flips and switches on his spin table. The pop song playing faded into a slow melody mixed with acoustic guitar and a smooth voice cooing about love. The large group of students began to disband, with a few select staying behind to sway romantically along with the song.

You looked to Peter, whose eyes were already on you. He held out his hand, and gestured to the song, pulling you close to him. As if by instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands rested firmly on your waist.

“I’m having a lot of fun with you,” you said, relieved to not have to yell over the music.

Peter smiled shyly, resting his forehead against yours with a contented sigh. “Me too.”

Once again, you were very aware of how close his lips were to yours. You could just lean in, and….

“[Y/N]?” Peter murmured, breaking into your thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Could I--” He cleared his throat nervously. “I mean, I’ve never--”

“Just kiss me, Parker,” you breathed, and he obliged. You were not expecting your first to be with Peter, and you wanted to accuse him of lying about never kissing a girl before because it seemed like he knew what he was doing. His lips were soft and sweet, and he tasted like the sweet punch you had earlier.

You pulled away, head spinning and butterflies flying around in your chest. He looked at you in confusion, his adorable lips still pursed.

“Is--is everything okay?” he asked uneasily.

You smiled and nodded. “Everything is….perfect. I just--I’m still processing all of this.”

He laughed. “Y-yeah--me too.” You both were silent for a moment, before he said, “So the kiss was--it wasn’t too bad, right?”

You playfully punched his arm, but followed it with a kiss to his cheek. “You did great, Parker. We’ll have to do it again sometime.”

The two of you spent the rest of the evening stealing kisses, dancing together, and then walking home holding hands, something that you had never thought would ever happen to you. You looked at Peter with fresh eyes now, and you couldn’t deny the growing feelings that now you knew were reciprocated--which held a certain kind of excitement for what the future held for the two of you.

#peter parker #peter parker imagines #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #spider man: homecoming #spiderman imagines #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman homecoming imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #mcu #mcu imagines

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pilawforhire-archived · 6 years

Note

It's a disgusting thing, yet Ace was a man who never turned his back on a challenge, no matter how dangerous or gruesome. In this case, it was neither, but that did not make the task any more pleasant. Ace makes the weirdest faces at touching the little devils but basks in a sense of pride at his work when it's done - it's a raisin cake, just for Law. Who the fuck can enjoy raisins, seriously? Not even chocolate can save the baked good... As a final touch, Ace arranges the deco raisins to +

spell ‘ROOSINS’. He offers it to Law with a “Merry Christmas, you filthy animal” [ @pxrtgasdace ]

Whilst Ace bustled around the kitchen, Law flopped on the couch, oblivious to Ace’s self-inflicted suffering as his fingers dipped into Law’s bountiful raisin stash and pinched vile raisins for his secret project. Had Law suspected Ace had found his raisins, carefully hidden at the bottom of a huge sack of rice, in his underwear drawer, in the storage closet inside Rocky the blow-up crocodile, Law would have leaped out of the chair, primal instincts evoking concern for the safety of his raisins. Knowing how much Ace abhorred raisins, after some painful lessons learned, Law thought it best to keep Ace and raisins, the two loves of his life, separate and apart, for everyone’s sake. Although Law loved Ace, he had developed a fondness for, and a spiritual connection to, raisins, that he couldn’t just choose one over the other. Often Law felt guilty for eating raisins before kissing Ace but he figured ignorance was bliss in that regard.

It took a while, but Ace eventually emerged from the kitchen. At the sight of the cake Ace carried toward him, Law’s heart skipped a beat. He scrambled upright and his jaw dropped. He had the look of a cheating bastard caught in the act with his pants down. Still, Law’s immediate worry was that his raisins had been flushed down the toilet. Merry Christmas, Ace then wished him, and speechless, stupefied, Law gawped at Ace before he accepted the cake uncertainly with both hands, like a kindergartener receiving their certificate at graduation. Gradually, Law lowered his gaze to the beautifully decorated cake, heart-shaped with a rainbow medley of myriads of raisins, currants, sultanas, and golden raisins, covering every whit. For several seconds, Law blinked blankly at the cake, as if he was trying to figure out what it was. He read ROOSINS and his brows arched. Glancing back up at Ace, Law stared in incredulity. Then his face creased and he almost laughed.

Cocking his head to the side, Law said, “You didn’t have to.” Sure, he might love raisins but he also loved fish and rice and other foods Ace could touch without repulsion. Law knew Ace felt as strongly toward raisins as Law did toward bread. Thus, it came as a huge surprise that Ace had baked him a raisin cake, of all things. Law didn’t fancy cakes much, but the gesture was still incredibly sweet. If it wasn’t a gesture of affection, Law didn’t know what was, for Ace’s sacrifice must have been painful to bear. (Law would know. Whenever he prepared Ace sandwiches and hand-fed Ace pizza in bed, Law had to don gloves and a mask in order to avoid breathing in the bread fumes and touching the contaminants directly.)

Law started to reach for a raisin when he paused and gave Ace a dubious look. While they loved each other, their life was not free from the regular prank wars that Law half-expected the cake to explode in a matter of seconds, sending his precious raisins spattering the floor. Law could already foresee himself on his hands and knees, scrabbling to save all his jewels before Ace sucked them into the void of the vacuum cleaner and they were forever gone—Alexander, Beatrice, Caleb, Dominique, all their lives terminated before he could say his last goodbyes. What was this, some passive-aggressive attempt to get him to agree that raisins were disgusting? Law eyed Ace with scrutiny, though, nevertheless, he grasped the plate in both hands, unwilling to part with the cake, whether or not it was rigged to blow.

“Why?” Law asked. “Is this to apologize for something? Did you kill my turtle?” However, the temptation, a heavenly aura, oozing out of the raisins was so overpowering that, in spite of the risk of the cake exploding in his face, Law greedily plucked a raisin and popped it into his mouth. He smacked his lips and openly savored the raisin in front of Ace. Then he ate another and offered Ace a raisin, all the while suppressing the urge to moan theatrically. Ace wasn’t wrong. Law was quite filthy. Already, as he held the cake happily in his hands, he contemplated eating the raisins off the cake using only his mouth, leaving the cake parts for Ace to finish. But first—

For the umpteenth time, Law gave his speech in favor of raisins. “Raisins are good for you, you know?” Law recited. “They have many health benefits, including the prevention of constipation, because there’s nothing worse than poo lodged up there, than…well, foreign objects, obviously.” This time, however, instead of stopping there, Law droned on.

“Raisins aren’t bad. They may look absolutely ugly, but so do a lot of foods—like bread. Have you seen the holes in bread? Disgusting.” Law paused only to pop another raisin into his mouth. “Also, raisins, they may be dried up, but they’re still nutritious.” Raisins were truly undeserving of the hate they got from both the young and the old. As a child, Law had always born witness to others plucking raisins from bread, cakes, biscuits, and throwing the raisins out, or piling them up and feeding them to the neighbor’s dog as revenge for something absurd. The raisins never stood a chance in the harsh and cruel world.

“Raisins were once grapes in their prime. Yet everyone loves grapes but not raisins. Just because they lost their juice, they can’t be made into wine, jam, juice, jelly, etcetera, raisins are tossed out? Regarded as the outcasts of fruit? Nothing’s changed. They look different, taste different, but raisins are still once-grapes. They make great pocket-friendly snacks on the go. For those with nut allergies, raisins make a great substitute. And I’ve never heard of anyone dying from eating raisins nor getting obese from raisin consumption.

“It’s just like people—once they’re old and used up, they’re abandoned, if they can’t look after themselves.” Law rambled on. He had no idea why he felt the need to defend raisins so vehemently. But if Ace couldn’t see the good of raisins and remained averse to raisins, that was fine. Because Law loved Ace and it didn’t matter that they both hated each other’s favorite food. They had other favorite foods in common. Thus, Law said, “But thank you.” An impish twinkle in his eye, Law licked his fingers, purposefully sensual. With the raisins still half-chewed in his mouth, Law grabbed Ace’s shirt and pulled Ace in for a kiss.

“Don’t you think life is like being a raisin?” Law added, his lips barely brushing against Ace’s. His fist maintained its grip on Ace’s shirt. “You get your juice dried up, you’re wrinkly, ugly, defeated, but there will be someone out there…who still loves you, for who you are. When the world turns its back on you, when everyone throws you away, there will be someone who stands by your side and fights for you. When you think it’s over because you’re dried up…just remember, it’s okay.” Law released Ace’s shirt and softly cupped Ace’s face in his hands. “You’re not filthy like they say you are. It doesn’t matter what they say of you, what they think of you, what you think of yourself. I think you taste wonderful.” Law threw a handful of raisins at Ace’s face, grabbed his cake, and ran.

#pxrtgasdace #thank you for sending!#in defence of raisins #queued #let's pretend Law is a little high to excuse that ramble okay #asks

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aliemah · 7 years

Text

Half-Truths

A new fic inspired by a prompt by @vorchagirl for my summer giveaway. It turned into a full-fledged multi-chapter story.

Basically: James an Analya have to go undercover as a married couple to save C-Sec. Smut will come later, as you might guess.

Will be updated on AO3 here

“I’m sorry Shepard, I can’t help you out with this one.” Kaidan folded his arms over his chest as he took half a step back, shifting his weight. “I just… don’t think it would be appropriate.”

“I understand. I just… I’m comfortable around you, so I figured-”

“I’m flattered.” he cut her off with a hand held up that soon rested on her shoulder. “I think you’re overlooking other people though.” he smiled, nodding his head in the direction behind her. She turned and immediately spun back around with a hard-set face.

“No.”

“Shepard-”

“You think you and me is inappropriate?! He’s ranked lower than you were when we met!” she hissed in her quietest voice. “I-I can’t spend a whole four days alone with him!”

“Well I’m not going and you can’t make me under any authority. Besides, you two work well together and I think you underestimate his talents.” Kaidan gave her a less than gentle push in the general direction of the young man, turning around to get back to his reports.

Analya grumbled and shrugged out from under his hand to turn and walk over to where James was sitting, in the middle of eating his lunch. She did like him, and she agreed that the two of them got along very well. But she didn’t know if he was really ready, or capable, of what she was needing from a partner. Suddenly from the corner of her eye, she spotted Garrus, and she thought it over for a split second before making a beeline for him, instead.

“Hey Garrus, you got a minute?” she asked.

“Sure, what’s up?” he asked, stopping in his tracks on the pathway from the main battery to the kitchen. Ana motioned for her to follow him back into the main battery, waiting until the door shut before speaking again.

“I got a message from C-Sec, forwarded from the Council, asking me to investigate a crime ring that’s apparently threatening a lot of the Citadel’s security. The only problem is that everyone knows if a Spectre starts showing up, they’ll try shut it down. They want this situation dealt with.”

“Okay, what does this have to do with me?”

“Well, I need to have a partner to go undercover and help me get close to someone so I can hack into their files and see what they have.”

“Shepard, no offense, but I would be terrible. I can’t lie to save my skin, let alone act.”

“You acted like you weren’t jealous when Tali mentioned getting that suit modification.” Ana half-muttered with a smirk.

“And yet, everyone figured it out. Proof I’m no good.” he said quickly. “Besides, I’m not very good for sneaking around or causing distractions. Hell, I can’t even plan escapes well.”

“Fine, you’ve made your point.” she huffed, crossing her arms for a moment before bringing her hands up to her face, groaning. She really didn’t want to bring James along, but she’d already exhausted all two of her comfortable options.

“What now?”

“This is just… It’s going to be so awkward.” she mumbled.

“Asking or doing it?”

“Both. But I guess I just have to do it.” Ana shook her head and ran a hand down her pink face, trying to restore the natural pale tone the best she could before going back out. It took a few minutes before that happened, though there was still a small blush as she approached James.

“Hey Lola, Scars said you wanted to talk to me about something.” he said, looking up before she was even close. But hearing him speak first did ease her nerves slightly, much to her surprise.

“Yeah. I think it would be best if we talked privately, though. It is a bit sensitive.”

“Sure thing. I’ll finish up lunch and meet you in your cabin?”

“Sounds great.” Ana smiled, aware he was doing the same as he returned happily to his omni-tool and food.

Great. She’d bought herself some time to think it over, plan out what she’d say, maybe how he would react. Analya slipped over into the kitchen to grab herself something to eat before going to the elevator, taking it up to the cabin and promptly laying back on the bed, popping a few grapes in her mouth.

James would probably love to do this job with her. It was a chance for him to get some experience with trying to stay undercover, and there was the chance of a shootout type scenario at the end. Not to mention it was going to be at least three days alone with her, possibly more. Ana knew James was at least a little bit serious when he flirted and she loved that it was easy to tell how he felt. Though it was cruel of her to string him along like she had - not that she didn’t want to fully reciprocate his affection and attention, there were just boundaries in the way.

It was maybe an hour later before Analya had the request for someone to enter. Immediately allowing it, she steeled herself for the conversation, prepared for any number of replies to her request. Though she knew she didn’t need to be prepared for anything but one, deep down.

“Hey Lola.” his voice came across rather calm as he entered, not for the first time, and sat himself down close to her. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“I…” she started speaking but her mouth ran dry, and she felt her face growing hot. A few deep breaths settled the nerves in her stomach. Ana met his eyes and smiled. “Sorry. I was contacted by C-Sec, and the council, to take on a mission. The only issue is that I need a partner, and I need someone who I can trust-”

“Okay.”

“-not to mention-... Wait, what?”

“I said, ‘okay’. I’m in.”

“You… Don’t want the details first?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be game to help, no matter what the situation. Plus it’ll be great practice for N school, I’m sure.”

“James, just to be safe let me tell you everything and then you can give me your answer, okay?”

“Fine. Tell me everything.” he sighed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The shirt he was wearing grew taut around his shoulders and that small detail didn’t escape Analya. She was careful to avoid saying anything other than what the mission was to him.

“First things first, we’d both have to go undercover. I don’t have exact details since I haven’t confirmed I’ll take on this mission, but I do know that we would be going in as C-Sec officers and trying to get hard evidence on some of the officers arrested.”

“Why can’t we just go in as ourselves?”

“Because, some of the officers have spoken about the Captain at their particular precinct having the records, but he’s been unwilling to come forward with the information himself, despite ordering the arrests. So I imagine they want us to sneak into his office and grab the data. But again, I don’t have all the details we need.”

“Alright… Is that everything?”

“For the moment.”

“I’m still in. You need help, and you’re gonna get it. And as much as I hate the way C-Sec operates, maybe this will help them figure their stuff out.”

“Garrus has been telling you stories, hasn’t he?” She smirked, pulling up her omni-tool to answer to the request.

“Oh, plenty.” he laughed, the sound leaning on dark, but… Analya was intrigued by the sound - shivers went down her back at the sound. “He also told me about the time you uh… Interrogated someone?”

“Oh god, not that story.” she groaned, her hands going to her face with embarrassment. She would admit, that interrogation - that whole mission, really - hadn’t been her brightest moment. But she’d done what was right and she wouldn’t take any of it back. James begged her for just one story before he left, and she decided she could tell her version of that mission to him, to kill some time.

Continue reading on AO3 here.

#new fic #Half-Truths #Shega #James Vega #Analya Shepard #FemShep #fluff #smut #cute #undercover #fanfiction #fanfic #aliemah-0 #vorchagirl #queue me up scotty

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ohgodsalazarwhy · 7 years

Text

Eggs

I don’t know how to fuckin’ tag this. Fem!Shep/Garrus. Garrus getting fucked with a strap on, oviposition, it’s dirty

@falsechaos paid me and I did my best to deliver.

You too can demand whatever your wicked heart desires from me! For a limited time I am offering 1000 words for 10 dollars! It’d be a big help for me, and you get some sweet whatever the hell you want.

Just donate 10 bucks to my ko-fi and include a note on what you want and I’ll write it!

----------------

“You know, I would have bought good wine. If there was any.”

Shepard looked at Garrus from over her shoulder, eyebrow raising to see him holding up a bottle of two-credit chuck. It was wine in name only, most likely. Shepard would be shocked if it contained any grapes at all. Or had heard of grapes. The awfulness of it was half the fun, and Shepard made a grabby hand until he handed over the bottle so she could take a swig. “Oh fuck,” she coughed and nearly spat it back up, before laughing and pressing it back, “that's not wine, it's lighter fluid!”

“What? Nonsense, I was told it was the finest of two credit wine,” Garrus took a sip and he squint, mandibles shuddering. “See?” he coughed, voice strained, “I didn't spit it out at all, it's delicious.”

“It'll grow on us once we drink enough of it,” said Shepard, and she plucked it back but didn't take a drink, “so we'll save it until after we have the real fun. Hm?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” said Garrus. He couldn't blush, but Shepard had learned to read him. His fingers were picking at the fabric of his suit, and he wouldn't exactly meet her eye. To anyone else he might seem shy, or bashful, but Shepard knew how excited he was. Tonight they'd managed to make time in both their schedules for some fun. Shepard grinned and set the wine aside, then snapped her fingers at the bed.

“Naked on the sheets, handsome.”

“Pushy, pushy,” Garrus sighed. As he stripped, in his usual perfunctory manner, Shepard let her eyes crawl over his body. Turians were so interesting, if someone had told her she would be madly attracted to a Turian as a child she would have laughed them out of the building. Yet there was no denying how she adored the length of his fingers, the graceful curve of his back, his stark hips and long legs. His almost gaunt face. The fringe, the scars. Who was she kidding, she loved every inch of him.

“I got us something special for today,” said Shepard as Garrus got on the bed, still sitting up on his elbows so he could watch her, “something I think you'll like.” She pulled off her shirt and tossed it aside. Garrus' eyes never left her face though, he liked her body well enough, liked to fuck her, but he'd always been honest about his attraction to her being mental and emotional. It was a little refreshing to know Garrus didn't really care what her body looked like, he'd love her regardless.

“Well, don't make me guess,” said Garrus, “you know I'll ruin the mood.”

“Try,” said Shepard with a laugh. She padded across the bedroom, knowing Garrus' eyes followed her the whole way, and grabbed a box on her desk. It was fairly decent size, and as she moved it to the bed it was obvious something was rolling around in it.

“A gun,” Garrus guessed wryly.

“Guess again,” Shepard sat on the edge of the bed, box in her lap.

“Two guns.”

“Hmmm, you're right, I shouldn't have let you take a shot at it, we both know I'm a better shot anyway.” Shepard grinned widely at the genuinely offended look on Garrus' face, but before he could protest, she opened the box and showed him. They'd played with strap-ons before, indeed, it was one of their special ways to play when they were in the mood. Male Turian carried children, or eggs, to be more exact, which they laid then cared for until they hatched. Garrus wanted children, but they had come to terms with the fact that their biology could never align. They played, though, Shepard putting on a strap on and fucking him, telling him how she was going to fill him with eggs. Always got them both off.

This was taking it to the next step. The cock was thick, long, and hollow. Without speaking Shepard picked up one of the eggs, they were all attached together by a string, four of them. Not huge, but not small either. She popped each into the hollow cock, leaving it fat and bulging with eggs. Garrus swallowed, eyes darting from the toy to her. “Well. That's. It's a thing.”

“We don't have to if you don't want, I just know you've always wanted to... see what it would feel like,” Shepard reached out to cup his cheek, voice gentle, soothing.

“No no, I... I want to try it. It's just... big,” Garrus' mandibles shivered a little under her palm. He was nervous, but eager. She bent down to kiss him, gently coaxing him to relax until he fell back against the bed, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her down against him. The box could wait, she had to work him up to that in the first place. Shepard kissed along his mandibles, then down his slim neck and chest. It was more for her, than him, he wasn't terribly sensitive here, but Shepard loved exploring his body, and Garrus did seem to enjoy her enjoyment.

Shepard shifted down until she was laying between Garrus' slim legs, fingers rubbing over his sharp hip bones. It looked like he was sexless, but it just took a little coaxing to get him to open up. Shepard kissed the slightly raised plates between his legs, fingers rubbing the sensitive skin at and around them. She tongued at the small slit, smiling to herself as Garrus grunted above her, his fingers tangled in her hair as if he needed something to ground him. Her tongue lapped between the plates, feeling how Garrus' body began to relax, to open up to her touch.

The more he opened up, cloaca widening with each lick, she began to taste him. Garrus had a musky, almost spicy taste as her tongue slipped into him. Hot and slick, as she lapped at him some of his juices smeared against her skin.

“Sh-Shepard,” Garrus groaned.

“Shh,” she soothed, finally managing to get a finger into him, “I'm going to fill you up tonight, relax and let me work.”

“O-oh you're so f-filthy you-” Garrus trailed off as Shepard bent down and sucked the very tip of his cock into her mouth. It was slowly sliding out of its pouch above his cloaca, and she suckled on it to draw it out further, head bobbing as more and more of the length made itself known, while her fingers worked at coaxing him open.

While it took time, and a great deal of attention, to get his body aroused enough to open for her, once he got to a certain point it took very little for her to go from one finger to three, and all the way to four. Garrus was panting heavily above her, and his juices coated her fingers, hot and slick as they dripped wetly down her wrist and onto the sheets below them.

“Any longer and tonight will be over b-before we get to the good part,” Garrus warned her, voice low with need. She popped off his cock, it was now fully out and laying against his belly, thick at the base and tapered at the very point, slippery and wet. They never had to use lube, Shepard loved it. She sat back on her heels and twisted to grab the box as Garrus watched her hungrily, grey eyes hooded. Shepard had to stand to slide on the harness, tightening down straps until the cock arched from between her legs, fat with eggs. She loomed over Garrus for a moment, seeing everything laid out before her. His taloned-toes flexed, his fingers clenched in the sheets, and when he met her eye he lifted his legs and spread them wide. Certainly more flexible hips than a human male would have.

Shepard beamed at him and he grinned in return, his mandibles shivering at the silent praise. “Look at me like that again and I'll be forced to turn the tables,” he said, fingers curling under his knees to hold his legs in place.

“Ooo, perhaps some other time,” Shepard gave him a kiss, lips trailing along the scar she'd always found so dashing, and positioned the almost flat head of the cock against his cloaca. It was lightly tapered, but not very. She had to squeeze the tip to help push it in, panting lightly as the tightness of his body translated to the toy rubbing against her cunt, which had already wet the insides of her thighs with her arousal.

Once the cock was all the way inside him, and Shepard moved slower than Garrus probably would have preferred if his swearing was anything to go by, she just rest there, her hips against his as she let their foreheads rest together in a brief moment of silence. Only brief. Before Garrus could beg her, she started to fuck him. The bed squeaked under them, and just under that was the wet, sloppy sound of her cock fucking him sloppy. More than the feeling of it rubbing her clit, it was Garrus' panting and under the breath begging of “breed me, breed me-ah- yes!” that drove her wild.

“You don't get to come until I say so,” Shepard warned gently, hands on either side of his head.

“T-taskmaster,” Garrus groaned, eyes squeezing shut. She could feel his slick cock rubbing against her belly with every thrust forward, deceptively smooth compared to the rest of his rough skin.

She came with a moan, thighs shuddering as the pleasure washed through her and further wet her thighs. Shepard panted and reached down, thrusting in almost all the way before she squeezed the base of the cock and slowly pulled out as one by one the eggs were pushed from the tip. With every one that popped into him, Garrus jolted at the feeling, one hand coming down to stroke over his flat belly.

“Oh that feels... odd.”

Shepard pulled out all the way and moved back enough to let Garrus drop his legs, “Up,” she ordered a bit breathlessly, “you only get to come if you lay them.”

Garrus seemed completely out of it, or as far out of it as he ever got, struggling a bit to push himself onto his toes so he was crouching on the bed. Shepard shifted so she was behind him, one arm wrapping around his waist as she watched from over his shoulder, nuzzling against his cheek in silent encouragement. Her hand on his belly could feel the muscles jump and work, and his cock was throbbing and dripping as he strained to push out the first egg.

“That's it,” she cooed gently, “just like that.”

“Oh fuck!” Garrus shuddered in her grasp as the first egg popped free, and she watched as his cock twitched and spurt a little come. It was completely clear, like the fluid coating it. “Shepard-”

“Let's see the next,” she ordered, fingers curling around the base of his cock and giving it a squeeze. If it really got to be too much she could pull them all out herself, they were connected by a string, after all, but Garrus pushed and she moved just enough to watch the way his cloaca spread around the egg, Garrus huffing and groaning to push it free. It popped out all at once and he nearly collapsed against her, nearly overwhelmed.

“Two more,” said Shepard, and if she hadn't just come she was sure just watching this would have pushed her over the edge. She knew it was something Garrus had always wanted to do, she didn't realize how big of an effect it would have on her though.

She stroked his cock as he pushed out the third egg, and when it popped free he came, yelling and spilling clear come all over the sheets as he strained through his orgasm to get the fourth egg out. He really did collapse against her when it was over, all four eggs laying on the bed covered in his slick. She quickly reached down to pull off the harness and lay down with Garrus tucked against her chest.

They were silent for a long time, Shepard just brushing her fingers over his fringe and along his mandibles and down his neck. Finally he huffed, pillowing his head on her chest.

“I don't get the fascination,” he murmured, fingers brushing one of her nipples and making her gasp, “but I suppose they have practical uses, such as cushions.”

“Don't you make me put those eggs somewhere else.”

Garrus laughed under his breath, and Shepard cracked a smile.

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silasatwater-blog · 7 years

Text

with a little help from a ...friend? ( silas & grace ) ft. colton

Mentions @justcorinne & @coltonklynn

As a patient man, one would think those with patience could wait in line. However, when that man is currently sitting through a marathon of his favorite show, you’d be surprised at how fast a person can turn. Standing behind a family with a cart, overflowing with groceries, Silas endures his need to check out their items for them in order to speed up the process. He’s as patient as can be, with a basket holding bread, butter, and cheese, dying to get himself into a grilled cheese mess whilst burning through episodes of Parks and Rec. He decides to kill time by surfing through social media on his phone, wondering if he’d ever post on Instagram again. Just then, he’s unaware of how fast time had sped by, as a hand taps him on the shoulder. “You’re next,” the soft, yet familiar voice speaks.

Silas turns, shuffling to put his phone away. “Oh, sorry– Grace?” he’s pleasantly surprised, placing his cart onto the moving conveyor belt. She smiles sweetly, giving him a little wave. “Hey!” The two exchange a little hug, as it wasn’t their first time meeting. “Wow, fancy meeting you here,” he chuckles, his attention bouncing from the cashier and her. “To think we’d shop at the same market,” she returns. “What’s wrong with the ones in CBD?” Grace shakes her head, her hand along with it for emphasis. “Nothing— I was just in the neighborhood and decided to save myself the trip and just do a grocery run here.” Silas nods, and just before he responds, the cashier tells him the price. “Just a sec,” he tells Grace, searching for his wallet.

In a state of panic, Silas freezes, mouthing a heavy ‘no fucking way’. “What’s wrong?” Grace chimes in, worried. “…I forgot my wallet,” he whispers, looking up innocently at the cashier. She’s got the same impatient eye roll Silas had a few moments ago, popping her gum, extending out a hand, her facing saying ‘well?’. He begins to stammer, dreading the thought of going back to his place without getting to make a grilled cheese. Just before he announces his inability to pay, Grace places her items behind Silas’, pushing him with the cart to move forward. “I got it,” she smiles at the cashier. She doesn’t say anything but shrug, as she begins to scan Grace’s items. “Don’t worry about it,” she whispers over to him, waving her hand.

He wants to protest, but how can he deny what has already been done? Instead, he carries everything as they walk out of the market, directly to his car. “What are you doing?” she laughs, following after him. “We’re gonna go back to my place so I can repay you, duh.” Grace rolls her eyes, deciding not to protest. After all, you never know when you’ll be in need of fifteen bucks.

It’s a short drive to Silas’ home, the two hurrying in with bags of groceries in a casual fashion. Leading her in, he heads to the kitchen, hoping she’d follow and not wander into his mess. “You just got bread, butter, and cheese right?” Grace laughs, looking around his home. “Let me guess, you’re craving grilled cheese?” He nods with a laugh, unpacking everything to find his items. “Don’t judge me, I was in the middle of a Parks and Rec marathon.”

Silas settles everything as needed, turning to find Grace sitting at the counter, watching him. “What?” he raises a brow, coming to the other side of the counter. “Nothing, just trying to separate differences and similarities between you and Cole,” she answers rather sure of herself, sneaking in a grape from the fruit basket sitting in between them. The moment she mentions Cole, Silas’ facial expression drops. He recalls the text from his cousin, feeling himself grow into comfort mode. Obviously, Silas was a huge supporter of Cole’s happiness. Lately –well, since last year– the source had been Grace. He knew of her for quite a while, and getting to meet her was like completing a long awaited puzzle. He liked the idea of them together, so in his mind, he believed the two shared harbored feelings that both were too scared to admit. “…What?” Grace adds with a humorless chuckle. “Am I not supposed to eat these?”

Shaking himself from those thoughts, he leans against the counter, taking a grape for himself. “Oh, no it’s totally fine,” he adds, hoping this small act would make her forget about his sudden change in demeanor. With a keen eye, Grace inches closer, her hazel hues squinting dramatically. “I’m sensing that it’s not,” she somewhat sings, straightening her back as she reaches for another grape. “What’s going on?”

Now, it was the debacle between bro code and bro code with someone who basically paid for your meal. Silas waits too long to answer, and now Grace’s demeanor changes too, her brows knitting with concern. “Si, is something up with Cole?” she crosses her arms. He snaps, raising his brows. “—Wait, why? Why do you think something’s up with Cole?” She lets out a chuckle, scoffing almost. “…Because that was the last thing I mentioned before you froze on me.” She takes another grape, hoping if she seemed a bit more relaxed, it’d make him spill the tea. “C’mon, I’m a big girl.”

He’s grazing his bottom lip between his teeth, sighing as he quickly ends up deciding ‘whats the big deal anyway?’ “—It’s nothing, I promise. I just remembered a thing, that’s all.” Grace can’t help but laugh, unable to hide her grin from watching Silas dance around the topic. “You know, you’re a pretty bad liar.” A single brow rises along with the corner of his mouth. “That’s the first time anyone’s ever told me that.” Grace shrugs, resting her chin on her fist with a cheeky grin. “A liar knows a liar, whether or not he’s a good or bad one.” “Didn’t take you for a liar, Grace,” he chuckles, crossing his arms in interest. “Everyone’s got a dark side.”

After their little banter, Silas decides he’s comfortable enough to ease into his curiosity. Grace had to know by now, right? Girls told their friends, everything. “Anyway,” she quickly adds, putting him off his trail of thoughts, getting off her seat. “You know I went to culinary school, right?” Silas nods, eyes squinting as he hopes this was going in the direction he anticipates. “Apparently you never fail to mention it.” She smiles wide, coming around the counter to meet his side, grabbing the items necessary. “What? A girl can’t be proud of her education?” Moving to the side, he watches as Grace practically makes herself at home, taking hold of the items necessary. “I bet by the end of this, you’ll be begging for more,” she sings again, preparing the necessary items. He sits himself up on the counter, deciding to watch the pro in action. “I dunno, I’m kind of really into microwaveable food— which is similar to my own cooking.” She can’t help but snort at the reply, washing her hands as she takes out a few slices of bread. “Oh god.”

Time passes by, and now Silas is met with a gorgeous looking sandwich while Grace sits across from him with the smuggest smile he’s ever seen. Sitting on the couch, he holds it up to view, taking a proud bite. She doesn’t even ask him how it is, because she knows it’s magnificent, letting Silas’ expression speak for itself. He’s practically mind boggled, unsure how anything so simple can taste so great. “—What the hell,” he speaks with his mouth full, hovering his hand over it. “What did you–” Grace holds up her hand, wagging her finger in a ‘no’ fashion. “Just eat. Don’t ask.”

After a few minutes of demolishing the sandwich, it takes a lot for Silas not to beg for another, which he promises himself he would do when he sees her again. Wiping his mouth, he tosses the napkin into a nearby bin, sinking into the couch with a satisfied sigh and grin. “I can’t believe I was getting all worked up about keeping Corinne and Cole from you— I mean, you probably already know, right?” he asks easily, before chugging down the remnants of his water bottle.

#p: with a little help from a friend?#if anyone judges me for rping with myself...#LOL #im SORRY #but sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do ok #this is under read more bc it's long af #it's also silas' POV ( mostly )#grace's side to come asap #also is it weird to ship your own characters for a lil bit #anyWAYYYYY

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abutterflyobsession · 7 years

Text

Doctor Who AU: Part 15

prelude/one/two/three/four/five/six/seven/eight/nine/ten/eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/ao3

“I do hope you appreciate how clever this setup is,” The syringe Roland had just pulled from Bog's arm was full of sickly orange fluid, a small screen on the side displaying some text. Whatever the text said did not satisfy Roland and he clicked his tongue in disappointment before continuing with his boasting,“I've fastforwarded the breakdown of your human DNA by five years now without you starving to death or even needing a shave. Well, no more in need of a shave than when we began.”

“I'm agog.”

Bog's mouth was painfully dry and speaking reopened the deep cracks around his mouth, the taste of blood thick on his tongue. But he still made the effort to muster what sarcasm he could, just so he could see Roland's miffed expression.

“I could speed up the process,” Roland jabbed a finger into Bog's arm, right in the ripening bruise caused by half a dozen or more needle marks, “but that could kill you and we can't have that happening just yet.”

Each time a needle was stabbed into Bog's arm he could feel that it was getting harder for the needle to pierce the skin and find a vein. He could see deep, dry cracks laying open in his skin to reveal the damp, still soft texture of bark. Desperately thirsty and in extreme pain, Bog's mind focused on the ludicrous thought that it was a shame that all the work put into his tattoos would go to waste.

Maybe he was just trying to avoid thinking about how his body was being ripped apart and if he didn't die from it he would be some sort of freakish Ent for the rest of his life.

He'd just wanted to get his guitar and the necklace back.

And a stiff drink.

How had things even ended up like this.

He was mad at the Doctor for getting him into this. He would have put more effort into it if he didn't hear her berating Roland every time light and consciousness coincided.

Bog was having trouble keeping track of time. It was just a shuffling of dark and light and pain. Even the needles stuck in his arm blurred together.

At one point light brought with it a strange taste in the air and he had started coughing. There wasn't enough air, he couldn't force it into his lungs, all his effort only seizing up his throat. He had no idea how long he coughed, but he pulled something along his ribs during the convulsive fits. His arms and legs held in place, something in his shoulders separated as the fits of coughing shook his body.

“Congratulations!” Roland said sometime after the coughing began to fade, “You just switched over to breathing carbon dioxide!”

Bog just wheezed.

But he tried to do it in a scornful way.

The liquid in the syringe was dark amber, with a hint of red.

“Nearly there!” Roland said cheerfully.

A crash and a prolonged, wordless noise of complaint made Roland stop in the act of sealing Bog in again.

“Buttercup, look at this mess!”

The Doctor staggered into view, walking a little lopsided. But that might just have been Bog's vision wavering again.

“That's what happens when I hack your psychic interface and neutralize the signal keeping the wall solid,” the Doctor held out her sonic screwdriver, “shouldn't have let me hang onto this.”

There was white powder in her hair and all over her clothing, her face sprinkled with it, dark lips looking almost black in comparison. From Bog's vantage point he couldn't see her eyes, only the dark smudges of her eyeshadow, and to him she looked like a ghoulish apparition advancing on Roland trim personage.

“Aw, honeybunch, I'm going to have to replace that whole wall! Did you have to attack it on a molecular level? If you'd just switched off the program it would have reverted to cubes and we'd all be happier.”

“I felt spiteful.”

The room rippled and this time Bog was almost certain it wasn't just his eyes playing tricks on him. Everything moved too fast for him to keep track of the action, all he could see was the Doctor's small shape running, dodging walls that were trying to snatch her, jumping over a few of them. But she could only run so far within the confines of the room and she was slammed to the ground with the floor grabbed her by the ankle.

Roland was sauntering his way over to her, speaking in a chiding tone.

Then Dawn appeared.

Bog wondered if that should be startling. He was too busying being parched to be sure of anything.

The floor rose up to grab Dawn too, but Bog blinked and missed her capture.

Actually, he must have missed more than that, because the floor smoothed itself down again, white and empty. Only Roland remained, walking over to the spot where the Doctor should have been laying.

“No, this is fine, this is fine” Roland sounded a little shaken as he straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair, “Now that the ladies are gone we can have a nice talk while my TARDIS traces my sweetie. You know, just a couple of guys being guys. Talk about sports and protein and other manly things.”

Roland produced one of his innumerable syringes and stabbed Bog's arm with vicious force in order to get the needle to get though to a vein. It felt like being stabbed with a dull pencil, but it woke Bog up a little and he sight cleared in time to see the clear, dark amber of the blood sample.

Like tree sap.

The couldn't be healthy.

“Finally! You're cooked to perfection!”

“I had it handled!”

“You were about to get squashed!”

“You should have gotten Bog out of there first!”

“I was kind of in a rush!”

Sunny had answered the phone as requested but Roland's TARDIS had failed to appear. Dawn had appeared with her arms wrapped around her sister. The Doctor looked like a furious cat that had been picked up and cuddled against its wishes. She shoved Dawn off and immediately began shouting complaints about the rescue.

“I had a plan!” The Doctor raged.

“If your plan was to get squashed like a ripe grape then it was going brilliantly.”

“I would have been fine! Now you've left Bog alone up there with Roland!”

“Then let's go back and get him!” Dawn began to tap on the vortex manipulator's keypad. After a moment she frowned and her fingers slowed, uncertain, “Um. Roland might have, well--”

“Moved?” the Doctor suggested pointedly, “Gosh! Do you think?”

“Not a problem! I'll just track the signal down again--”

“What signal?”

“The signal from your . . .” Dawn faltered, looking at what her sister was holding up, “. . . your sonic screwdriver . . .”

“This one? The one I am holding? That sonic screwdriver? Not another one that I don't know about? And why do you have the vortex manipulator? I'm checking the travel history on that later, you know, and I'd better not find any unauthorized jaunts!”

“Get a grip! I made a call and I stand by it! Now there are two of us, at liberty and not being chased by Roland's interior decorating. We stand a much better chance of finding Roland and saving Bog than if I left you up there!”

“You should have saved Bog! Because he's up there being tortured because I popped into his life! He doesn’t deserve this!”

“But I saved you, so let's just move on!”

“You shouldn't have!”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm not important!”

The sisters had been pacing around the empty lot light boxers squaring off in the ring. Dawn stopped dead, looking like she had been slapped.

“Why would you even say that--” Dawn began, anger making her voice tremble.

“It's the truth,” the Doctor said, bringing her hand down sharply as if to press her claim more firmly into reality, “I've done things that can't be fixed, can't be made up for. You're upset because I lied to you? Wait until I start telling the truth because you're going to just love me then! I have destroyed so many things, so many people—I have brought down kingoms, burned down entire planets! Maybe I did it for the right reasons, maybe I did it to save someone, but that doesn't make any of it right. So when you have to make a choice between pulling me or an innocent man from the fire just remember that I am not the sister you remember, that there is blood on my hands . . . and let me burn.”

“You . . .” Dawn sniffed hard, her eyes sparkling with tears, “You are an idiot.”

The Doctor rocked back under the impact of Dawn slamming into her for a hug.

“Listen,” Dawn held her sister tight, ignoring her faint protest at being hugged, “I don't know what you've done, but you're my sister. You kept me safe for so long. I look into your eyes and see so much pain that I ache with it too. You're my sister and you are important.”

She shoved her sister away.

“So just shut up and start thinking about how to save Bog.”

Dawn turned on her heel, grabbed Sunny by the hand, and headed back to the TARDIS without waiting for an answer from her sister.

“You had to go and start all of this,” Roland sighed the sigh of a man who has long suffered under unfair circumstances, “Coming between me and my buttercup.”

“Start what? I don't even know you people!”

“Oh, to be so chronologically impaired!” Roland shook his head sadly, allowing his hair to bounce softly across his forehead, “It's amazing what a human—or a human mindset—can ignore. The effort I've put into averting all of this . . . and even so your time lines have been bouncing off each other, resisting my alterations.”

The process to accelerate Bog's transformation from human to Cheem was over, but the relief of it was short lived. It hurt even to breathe, his ribs stabbing and his lungs burning with each breath he drew. He was nearly wild with thirst and his concentration was shot. He just wanted to slide free of the wall and collapse on the floor, which looked cool and inviting. He did not want to continue to hang there, forced to look at the portraits of Roland decorating the room.

The only thing he wanted to look at less right now was a mirror.

“Time lines?”

“Oh, come now! You must remember meeting her at least once before!”

The memory of the night he had been drunk and fell into a bush floated through Bog's head. He remembered pink high tops and impatient purple fingernails tapping on a watch. And, of course, the guitar he had found next to him when he woke up and ended up keeping when no one else laid claim to it.

But that was years ago.

Of course, that didn't really matter if a time machine was involved.

“Perhaps the face is throwing you off,” Roland waved a hand in an elegant circle and the portraits slid along the walls, disappearing and being replaced with new ones, “It is so hard to keep track of the faces, isn't it?”

The new pictures were the ones Bog had seen in the store's display window. There was the one of the Doctor, directly across from Bog, and portraits of various other women one either side.

Bog was honestly surprised that Roland had been able to tear himself away from a mirror long enough to paint anyone else.

“Anybody seem familiar?”

Bog stared blankly at Roland.

“Hm. Don't you get it yet? These are all her. Every face she's worn. Honestly, you two are destined to meet and yet you know nothing about her! Meanwhile, I am attentive to every detail and yet--!”

Roland snatched the portrait of the Doctor off the wall and smashed it onto the floor, breaking apart its wooden frame. For a moment Roland's facade slipped again, his hair tussled and his teeth bared. He looked up at Bog with a look of complete hatred.

“And yet she always chooses you!”

#strange magic #spread the lofe #butterfly bog #potionless #doctor who au #strange magic doctor who au #my writing fanfic

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