#i started a calendar of every day i cover i color in and between people taking days off and complete absences | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovestruckay · 3 years

Text

Request: "Hi there! Loveeee your writing for Fire Force and was wondering if you could do headcanons (SFW and NSFW if that's ok!) for Akitaru and a fem s/o for celebrating birthdays or holidays?"

Pairing: Akitaru Obi x Fem!Reader

A/N: Happy birthday, Obi! I’m a little late but I made up for it by making this 2.5k words, haha. NSFW content is below the cut, it’s mixed in throughout instead of separate! I used these HC as a way to talk about some of the days I celebrate personally from the Wheel of the Year - eight holidays that celebrate the spring equinox, the summer solstice, the autumnal equinox, the winter solstice, and the four cross-quarter days between them.

Akitaru loves the holidays. He’s the kind of person who plans celebrations a month in advance, sometimes even longer depending on what the special occasion is. He’ll put out decorations, bake pastries, cook whole meals, and even throw parties where he’ll give mushy speeches.

You think he leans into celebrating even more for the sake of the rest of Company 8. Nearly all of his companions had come from troubled backgrounds or had lost their loved ones and he was always clear that the Eighth was their family too. Akitaru is the father figure of their ragtag company and he takes that role seriously. Not just in protecting them and guiding them but in doing the little things that family did - like celebrating holidays.

So, when these special occasions roll around, you better get ready because this man is not just celebrating for the fun of it but because it’s a way to bond with you and the rest of Company 8.

The Holy Sol Temple has generic, catch-all versions of all the seasonal holidays. With the Temple worshiping a Sun God, their holidays are centered around solar events like the solstices, the equinoxes, and the cross-quarter days between. December celebrations are all bundled up into the Winter Solstice, Ostara and Easter became the Spring Equinox, Samhain and Halloween became the Autumnal Cross-Quarter Day, and so on.

Even though these combined holidays are the most frequently celebrated, the pre-Cataclysm holidays still exist and are still celebrated. It is on a much smaller scale though so this makes celebrating these holidays a much more meaningful affair. If you celebrate a particular day, whether it’s because of tradition or your heritage or something else entirely, Akitaru is excited to learn and be a part of something so important to you.

Valentine’s Day is one of his favorite holidays because it’s a celebration he gets to spend with the woman he had fallen madly in love with - you. He likes that there’s a holiday dedicated to your love for each other and he tends to go overboard with making sure you know how much he cherishes you.

Akitaru is really cheesy about showing you how much he loves you. He always starts the day by waking up before you and sneaking into the kitchen so he can make you breakfast in bed. He’ll cook your pancakes in the shape of wobbly hearts and there will be a protein shake there with your orange juice. He has covered your entire bathroom with sticky notes, each note containing sweet messages he had written throughout the year about how much he loves you. You have a hand bound book on your shelf filled with pressed flowers and love notes that he had made for you one year.

He once hired a skywriter plane to write your initials in a heart in the sky. He loves you so much that it turns him into the corniest, sappiest man on the face of the planet.

He takes the Firefighter Calendar very seriously and he’s absolutely playful and confident enough to wear something sexy for you as a surprise. If you surprise him by wearing some revealing lingerie, he will spend the rest of the night absolutely worshiping you and showing you how beautiful you were.

Akitaru is such a big man but he can be so delicate that the tenderness he touches you with makes your breath catch. But sometimes he forgets his own strength, especially when you’re wrapped up like a present, and he tears the wrapping paper. You know better now than to expect whatever pretty lingerie you buy to survive the night.

He makes sure that you can’t get out of bed when he’s done with you and that works out great for him because, guess what - dinner in bed is on the way.

The Spring Equinox mornings are always spent outside basking in the nice weather and the warm sun as you plant new flowers in the cathedral garden. You spend the afternoon spring cleaning your home, sweeping behind all the furniture and packing up winter clothes. The afternoons are spent painting eggs and hiding little gifts of candy and sweets around the cathedral for the rest of the company to find.

Every year, the Autumnal Cross-Quarter Day (or Halloween as most call it outside the church) is a day-long affair. Mornings are spent carving Jack-o’-lanterns and baking cookies decorated with icing in the shapes of skulls, bats, and spiderwebs. During the afternoon, you’re putting out last minute decorations and filling bowls with king-sized candy bars for the trick-or-treating children that stop by the Fire Force cathedral.

Somehow, Akitaru is always able to convince everyone at the Eighth to dress up in costumes. He especially loves doing coordinated outfits with you, like Frakenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein or a werewolf and a vampire. One year, he was able to convince the entire company to dress up as zombies and you all spent the day making zombie noises at each other and giggling.

If you like getting a little scared for Halloween, he'll take you to a haunted house or a haunted trail where he will inevitably be clinging to you by the end of the experience. If you get chased by the workers wielding fake chainsaws at a trail, he will get so scared that he will literally scoop you up into his arms and run away.

If you’re more interested in staying home and spending time together, you’ll nestle up on the couch together with a bowl of candy and some of the pastries you had baked earlier and binge watch horror movies. He has absolutely no talent whatsoever for video games - you swear the man can’t even figure out how to hold the controller half the time - but he will happily cuddle you and cheer you on if you wanted to play some scary video games instead.

Once you two are alone, Akitaru can’t seem to get his hands off of you. He thinks you are so beautiful every single day but there is something so alluring to him about you dressed up. If you’re wearing one of those revealing costumes, his eyes are glued to you the entire day and, once he can finally get you away from everyone, he’s tearing it off to get to the sweets underneath.

He is very sensitive to the fact that winter holidays can be very personal to a person depending on their background. Most people in Tokyo celebrate the Winter Solstice but there are people who still celebrate the pre-Cataclysm holidays. Whichever holiday you want to observe, Akitaru wants to support you and celebrate with you.

You want to build an altar for Yuletide? He’s bringing home pretty rocks and little trinkets he found that he thought you might like to give as offerings.

You want to light a menorah for Hanukkah? He’s cleaned off a special spot in the kitchen window for the candelabrum.

You want to decorate a tree for Christmas? He’s driving around looking for a pine tree he can cut down for you.

You want to decorate the house for Kwanzaa? He’s singing with you as you both hang brightly colored kente and he’s memorized all seven core principles to talk to you about during the week.

You want to host a dinner for Las Posadas? He’s in the kitchen helping you make tamales and he even stuffed and hung two piñatas - one for the new recruits and the other for you both and the rest of the company.

When it comes to gifts, Akitaru is really good at picking out presents for you. He always listens when you talk and he makes sure to remember when you talk about things that you like. He’s the kind of guy who will buy small presents throughout the year and stow them away in the back of his closet until the winter holidays roll around.

He’s extremely easy to buy gifts for, he loves the traditional “dad” gifts. Get this man some brand new winter socks, a new jacket to replace the coat he got too muscular for, and some new underwear and he is happy. If you give him something a little more exciting in addition to his gifts, like taking off your robe to reveal you’re wrapped up in a bow, he will gladly unwrap you and give you a present of his own.

For New Years, he likes to host a little get together with Company 8 to celebrate. You all make a big dinner and maybe even get a little tipsy before going up to the roof to watch the fireworks. You sit in chairs you had set out earlier, Akitaru settling you into his warm lap instead, and watch in amazement as Company 1 puts on their yearly fireworks show in the sky over Tokyo.

When the show reaches its climax and the clock rolls over to midnight, he kisses you.

Whether you’re drunk on a little alcohol or just the excitement of the night, sex on New Years Eve is always fun. It’s so easy to be yourself and to feel beautiful with him - he is such a light hearted and openly loving man - but tipsy sex is always full of smiles and laughter interspersed with little gasps and moans. There’s no shame and it just feels good to be complete with the man you love.

On Lunar New Year, he is taking you out to shop for new clothes and he’s helping you give out cards and gifts. He makes sure to buy a bag of sweets to leave as an offering once you clean the altar at home later that day. In the evening, he’s once again in the kitchen, helping cook eight different dishes for the reunion dinner with a communal hot pot always being the centerpiece of the meal.

Akitaru loves the holidays but his favorite celebrations are the ones for you two specifically: your birthdays and your anniversary.

For his birthday, he just wants a small get together with the rest of the company and maybe a couple friends. He is still as ridiculously easy as ever to shop for, just buy him new exercise equipment and he’ll love it. He works out so much that he wears down and breaks his equipment and he’s always excited to try a new machine.

He especially loves it when you surprise him in the bedroom with something new. If you teach yourself how to deep throat his impressive size, he’ll be wrapped around your little finger for a week straight. If you give him the remote to your vibrating panties while you’re out getting dinner, he’ll break down halfway through your meal and pull you into the bathroom to make you see stars. You never need an excuse to experiment in bed but it’s always fun surprising him with something every year.

For your birthday, Akitaru will always ask you what you want instead of trying to surprise you. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you with a party if you don’t want it and he doesn’t want you to be craving more if he plans for a day at home.

If you want to go out, he'll take you to the amusement park for games and roller coasters (one of which he couldn’t even ride because the safety harness didn’t fit over his muscular body). If you like the outdoors, he’ll take you on a hike through one of the nature preserves and lead you to a picnic he prepared for you. If you like to dance, he’s taking you out and trying his best not to step on your toes.

If you want to stay in, Akitaru will buy you a copy of the newest video game you had your eye on and will order pizza so he can watch you try to beat it in one sitting. He’ll spend the morning baking and decorating a cake from scratch and it comes out incredible. He’ll give you a massage and his almost too strong grip feels so good it sends shivers up your spine.

On your birthday, he is in the palm of your hand. Whatever you want to do, anything you want to try, he is so eager to please. He’s an open-minded man and there really aren’t many things that are hard passes for him in bed. He isn’t particularly well versed in the kinky stuff so he’ll need a bit of an explanation sometimes but, once he understands what you want, he will gladly give it to you.

Without a doubt, your anniversary is Akitaru’s favorite holiday of the year. He loves that your anniversary is a celebration of your bond and a reaffirming of your love for each other. He’s honestly just as dramatic on this day as he is on Valentine’s Day - if not more so - and he will come up with the most cheesy, romantic ways of telling you he loves you.

Sticking to tradition, he took you out to a fancy dinner one year to a restaurant with a dress code and no prices on the menu. Even with the overly formal atmosphere, he was still his usual boisterous self throughout the dinner and his sunshine smile puts you at ease. The dinner was spectacular and, even if you normally hated stuffy environments like that, his happiness is contagious and you feel comfortable.

On your anniversary, he makes it his Sol given duty to fuck you until you scream when you cum. He makes it a point to give you the best orgasm of the year, making you finish over and over until your pleasure climbs to a high that has moans shamelessly spilling from your lips. You absolutely cannot walk the day after your anniversary so, every year, you take not only your anniversary off but the day following as well.

Akitaru pays such close attention to your moods and your likes and dislikes when it comes to the holidays throughout the year and tries his best to make you happy. At the end of the day, he just wants to be with you and for you to have a good time.

After all, he loves you so much he wants to spend the rest of his life making happy memories like these together.

#akitaru obi #obi akitaru #akitaru obi x reader #obi akitaru x reader #obi x reader #akitaru x reader #fire force x reader #fire force #enn enn no shouboutai #fanfiction

158 notes · View notes

lizbotw · 3 years

Text

it’s only sharing a disgustingly sweet milkshake at the local college town diner after both of your evening classes that suna graciously provides the answers to the math homework.

the spongy pencil eraser is easy for you to sink your teeth into as you puzzle over his handwriting. “you know,” you mumble around the nib, trying to figure out if that’s a 5 or a 6, “i never know why you do this to me every week.” this time the drink with two plastic straws floating in an unhealthy heaping of whip cream is a syrupy strawberry flavor.

rintarou tips forward to sip at one of them and in your peripheral, chunky pink-coated fruit pieces travel up the clear tube and disappear between his lips. he releases the straw with an annoying ah that makes you frown, even if you weren’t concentrating in the first place. “aw, don’t tell me you don’t like hanging out with me.” he feigns hurt.

a well placed sip of your own allows you to avoid having to answer that—you have a personal rule of never being sappy in the presence of calculus. if you didn’t like him, suna knows you wouldn’t be hanging out with him—there are just some things you can’t do, even if it’s for the sake of your grade. none of this has to be said out loud of course, but he decides to be annoying and ask anyway.

actually—well... maybe hanging out is... not exactly how this appears to bystanders.

sharing a drink like this, you two probably look more like a couple on a (terribly cheap) afternoon date, rather than two broke college students that split meals to save money and believe that sharing answers for homework isn’t cheating, it’s collaboration.

ha, as if it would ever be different—things like the former never come true. maybe in movies, but that’s about where the line is drawn.

as if he knows what you’re thinking, suna raises an eyebrow at you over the glass, a smile playing on his lips—the same stupid look he always gives you. it feels particularly worse this evening.

it’s hard to avoid eye contact with him mere inches away, but you manage when a car painted a very interesting shade of red rumbles past the fingerprint covered window. you’re grateful for the distraction.

the subject changes when you realize suna has terrible taste when it comes to ordering milkshakes. “what flavor is this?” you spit out the word as though the very concept of calling this a real flavor is more disgusting than the drink itself, smacking your lips and screwing up your face at the excessively saccharine, artificial strawberry aftertaste.

this is no ordinary strawberry milkshake. no, this is a so-bad-only-suna-rintarou-would-order-something-this-horrible-(and-not-necessarily-on-purpose-either) strawberry milkshake.

“valentine’s valor,” he states matter-of-factly like those words mean anything to you. you stare at him until he elaborates. “their valentine’s special,” he clarifies and is gifted with a sarcastic thumbs-up from you in thanks—it is pointedly ignored and suna slings an arm over back of his seat. “dunno the exact flavor though. forgot.”

it tastes like the embodiment of pink, you decide. valentine’s valor. what a stupid name. there are a million and one better words that start with v... you can name at least five with a little thinking. you should ask them to hire you as part of their marketing team, you decide.

maybe it’s fitting title though. you certainly need valor to even think about taking another sip of that... concoction—which you do because you are obsessed with getting your money’s worth.

“valentine’s day was half a week ago?” your mental calendar helpfully supplies.

the clatter of pans in the back kitchen somehow mingles charmingly with the way rintarou throws his head back to laugh—a scene straight out of a movie really. you decide you hate him in the moment. “right you are. want a prize?” ugh. you stick your tongue out at his tone.

great. as if to add insult to injury, of course you’re sharing an out-of-date love holiday special with suna of all people. valentine’s was four days ago and this is where you are on a thursday night. the sticky upholstery of the booth seat, ripped and fraying at the corners, squeaks and groans and attaches itself to the fabric of your jeans as you shift around, suddenly hot. what a strange situation to be in, you think. this has to be a metaphor for life—then again, you’d been thinking this whole... thing has been a metaphor anyway.

yup, ever since suna sat next to you in a calculus II lecture all those fated months ago and took pity on how much you fucking sucked at math, up until the present where he takes slightly less pity on you but does enjoy emptying your dorm mini-fridge and making you pay for his milkshakes—all of it. this entire thing with him. one big stupid metaphor.

the specifics of how you came to have a routine like this are certainly murky, but two things are for certain—one, your calculus grade is certainly a lot better than it would have been otherwise, and two, you have one friend more than you did at the start of the school year. (that last one is kind of a big deal, you think. the college social scene is brutal. the word friend has started to become more disappointing than exhilarating lately though.)

rin reaches to your left to pick at the fries you’d ordered as a side—you’ve learned not to try and stop him. “also,” he adds, mouth full, “you’re totally getting me a new pencil after this.” yes, true, the pencil you’re currently leaving frustrated teeth marks all over isn’t yours. very easy to forget in the moment. you’ve probably destroyed 15 of his pencils by now for the 15 weeks of the last semester—only 7 so far for the current one. you do the mental math.

instead of drawing in the sharp lines of the differential equation that should be going in the question box, you lightly trace in the curves of a 2 and then another one next to it in the corner of the worksheet, graphite underlining them both in one swoop. the horribly thin paper of the school library’s printer is scratchy as you write but soon you flip the pencil over and under your fingers to tap the eraser (that has seen better days) just below what you wrote. “this is pencil number 22.”

suna leans over to look at the number as if you hadn’t just told him what it said. what an idiot. “glad you’re keeping count.” he settles back into his seat. “when can i expect my reimbursement?”

“you’re funny,” you say, without a hint of humor in your voice. the pretty 22 you had written now has flower petals growing off of the sides as you get distracted doodling along the edges of your work. it’s quiet for a moment as he watches you, or maybe as he takes the chance while you’re distracted to shove more french fries down his throat—either option is plausible and you don’t lift your eyes to check.

something occurs to you.

“rin.” you take an extended pause in between the words as you continue drawing, just to annoy him. you don’t continue speaking until he grumbles in acknowledgment (you try to hide your smile). “do you ever doodle in your notebooks?” now that you thought about it, suna was surprisingly pretty straight-laced when it came to class—you couldn’t ever recall him ever slacking off to the degree that meant his pages were filled with hearts and stars and flowers and suns and atomically inaccurate animals and tiny people in different colored ink. your work was always certainly the more vibrant out of the two (perhaps that could explain your grades and how you understand like... nothing in your lectures, but you decide correlation does not equal causation).

“waste of time,” he says around another mouthful of fries, another one already halfway there to his mouth.

suna is also surprisingly negative at times—but the blue book flipped open to his homework says maybe he’s just a liar though. you squint at it.

“it’s still pretty early but we probably should get out of here soon,” suna says, pulling his phone out from his pocket to check the time and leaning his elbows on the table. “i’ll walk you back. your roomie doesn’t leave the gym until 9—before you ask, yes i’ve been keeping track. it’s not stalking if it’s for my own sake.”—rin is, of course, referring to the long standing rivalry between him and your (very nice, might you add) roommate you don’t really understand but which has cumulated in him deciding he would avoid them as much as humanly possible purely out of spite. (“the only person i like in dorm 302 is you,” he’d told you one time and the throwaway sentence maybe made your heart flutter more than it probably should’ve.)

the bell above the front door jingles behind you as another patron enters. rin glances up at the sound and then returns to his phone with a bored bat of his eyes, probably scrolling through twitter or replying to texts, and picking at his teeth with a toothpick (where did he even get that?).

you try to get back to work (copying) but something in your gut tells you there’s more to his notebook than the messy handwriting and crossed out words that meet the eye.

with suna distracted, you take the chance to carefully slide the book towards you and then, in a single quick swipe, pull it into your lap under the table, already leafing to the back pages—everyone knows that’s where the real secrets are—not sure what to expect. a flash of color makes you pause and you flip back to a page that has the corner folded into a tiny, crisp triangle.

whatever you were thinking suna had stashed in the back of his calculus notebook certainly does not match up with what’s staring you in the face currently. sparkly, gel-inked hearts in neon colors glitter under the fluorescent overheads. in each of them, written in capital letters neater than you thought possible for suna, is your initials, a small plus sign in the middle, and then S.R. (for none other than suna rinatoru) next to it. it instantly makes sense to you. “rin, what the fuck.” one side of the book dangles from your hand, pages fluttering, and you hold it up for him to see, other hand flying to cover your mouth because you don’t know whether to laugh or pretend to be mortified or what.

it’s very amusing to watch how suna goes from a disinterested stare, to widened eyes, to reaching over the heaps of school supplies to attempt to grab the book from you, frantic. you hold it just out of reach. “what are you—” an old lady at a table shushes him when he half-screams. “—give that back,” suna whisper-yells instead in the greatest verbal equivalent of tiny caps you’ve ever heard.

“not a chance.”

he looks like he wants to lunge across the table and pry his prized possession from your meddling hands, but also has half the mind not to make a scene. getting kicked out and then subsequently banned from his favorite diner all on a noise complaint and disorderly conduct accusation was not ideal.

you hum, flip back to your place, and observe the drawings covering the lined pages. you shoot him a venomous smirk over the edge of the cover, one that’s more theatrics than anything, and say with all the satisfaction of someone who knows they have all the power, “oh, this is gold.” he deflates and you feel grateful he doesn’t see right through your facade because oh man are you sweating inside right now. what the fuck? no way suna rintarou is drawing little hearts with both of your initials in it like a lovesick middle schooler. no fucking way. you almost want to tell him that you did the same thing once when the thoughts about him had gotten especially bad (you felt guilty afterwards though, thinking you never had a chance with him, but... now... if he’s doing the same—well, that kind of changes everything).

suna is utterly defeated you think—doesn’t even try to defend himself, just slumps in his seat with a groan. you at least expected a “i can explain!” from him, a last attempt at dignity, not the resigned “i’m never going to live this down, am i?” he mumbles after a few seconds. well, either works for you.

“nope,” you quip, maybe a little too cheerfully because the response you receive is a distressed wail and him banging his head against the table. the old lady shushes him again. you chuckle at that (it feels a little wobbly though because once again, freaking out here) and flip the page. you stop.

this one has similar perfect little hearts drawn all over it, but there are other things. cute, standard shaky drawings of misshapen dogs and volleyballs and other things you never thought suna would take it upon himself to create but all of which make sense are there. but there’s something else. little scribbles in the corners with your last name swapped with his and even him trying out his name with your last one—all of them are scratched out but not so much you can’t read them. a list on the right in a very tiny font that makes you think he was embarrassed even penning the words is titled “date ideas?” (the question mark is in red and the dot is a heart) and has several popular spots around town written down in the local lingo of unofficial names for them.

“listen... please let’s forget about this.” rin’s voice is muffled and he’s still faceplanted. “it’s fine if you don’t... you know... yeah.” if you don’t feel that way, he means. true, the doodles were a pretty good indication of his feelings.

what to do...

well... you take pity on him, let your lips upturn and your eyes soften to reflect the sentiment, and shut the book with a quiet thud. you slide it back across the table from where it came and back to him silently. you give it a resounding pat when suna peeks up at you, expression saying it all—he was so going to get you back for this. you stick your tongue out—acceptance of the challenge. and just like that, you’re friends again—maybe that’s what’s so great about suna.

as you get ready to leave and slowly begin the trek back to the dorm buildings with him, street lamps glimmering a pasty yellow, there’s no awkward tension, no need to ask questions, no verbal wonderings about what ifs between you two. it’s just joking and shoving each other around and challenges to see who can run to the next tree the fastest in the middle of the chilly february night. you know, maybe for now you’ll keep your own thoughts a secret.

152 notes · View notes

sunnydeviant · 3 years

Text

Nines’s First Birthday Present (it’s so fluffy i swear)

On AO3

When Nines’s first birthday comes up, he doesn’t expect to get his first present from Gavin. They’ve been working as partners in the DPD for ten months already, so it was not a complete surprise. However, he’s not very used to kind gestures from the detective, especially ones involving material presents.

The expression on Nines’s face when he saw a giant, red, cardboard box next to his desk, which was too big to put on top, was precious. Genuine surprise marked his features: raised eyebrows, widened eyes, and parted lips.

Gavin observed his reaction from the breakroom, blushing as he sipped from his cup of coffee. Gavin had come in early with Tina to plant the humorously large present at the android’s desk.

Tina also planted Gavin’s phone on top of the counter that was right in front of the pair’s desks to document the moment for him. In addition, she sat at her own desk, recording him with her phone while trying to not seem suspicious. She smiled gently, mentally cooing at his reaction.

Nines tapped at the box in multiple spots, listening to the variations in pitch and reverb. The item inside seemed solid, but soft. He looked around, noting the very few people in the bull pen. There was Tina, at her desk, and a few other officers that he wasn’t acquainted with.

He looked around the box, looking for a name or something to signify who it was from. The giant box was forty-eight cubic feet, four by four by four. He was surprised at the weight when he rotated it upside down to look at the bottom for any more information. The item shifted inside, but he was not worried about it breaking: he was sure it was too soft to break. Not finding any information, he turned it right side up and peeled at the tape the sealed the top.

He opened the flaps of the box, seeing an obnoxiously large teddy bear sitting inside, sagging under it’s own weight. The surprised expression was back, now with the addition of his LED spinning a frenzied yellow with flecks of red making their appearance.

He pulled it out, admiring its beady black eyes and cream colored fur. It seemed to be six feet tall, just a few inches shorter than him.

He hugged the large plush, smiling at the comforting weight and texture it provided. His sensors picked up on the very faint scent of roasted coffee beans and cologne.

With the bear in his arms, he peered back into the box. He was surprised yet again when there was a light blue envelope at the bottom that he had originally missed.

Nines looked around once more, but now with a bashful expression. His cheeks tingled with the sensation of a blush. He looked down, trying to discreetly hide his blue-tinged face. He set the bear on his chair and took the envelope carefully in his hands.

He tried his best to open the envelope without damaging it and was, thankfully, successful. He pulled out the card. The front side said “Happy 1st Birthday!” in bright pink font against a pastel blue background. The edges of the card had little balloons covered in holographic glitter. He ran his fingers over it, analyzing it.

He then the cute card, seeing a messy scrawl in black ink that undoubtedly belonged to his partner.

“Happy Birthday, dipshit. Here’s to more crime-solving and ass kicking. - The World’s Best Partner and Detective >:)”

Nines chuckled at the message, his LED shifting between yellow and blue. He covered his mouth, keeping his head down again. His thirium pump fluttered unexpectedly, making him feel impossibly light and ecstatic. The addition of the little emoticon was so very much Gavin of his partner to do. He saved this memory to his databanks, under the file that was specifically for his partner. He delicately put the card back into its envelope and closed it before setting on his desk. He then grabbed the bear and placed it in its box cautiously.

He pushed the box flush against his desk as to keep it out of his way and sat down, glancing around the building to find his partner.

He looked down at the box again, seeing traces of Gavin and Tina’s fingerprints all over the box.

He stared at his computer in an attempt to use it to hide the ghost of a smile on his lips. However, a curiosity washed over his mind.

“Where was Gavin? Why did he give the present to me this way instead of just giving it to me himself?”

He understood surprises and the appeal of them, liking them himself, but it seemed rather uncharacteristic for the detective to avoid just giving it to him. He preferred to do things face-to-face.

Nines looked down at the floor, finding faint traces of Gavin’s tennis shoes leading to the break room. He decided to wait for him rather than seek him out.

After seven minutes and fifteen seconds of waiting, the man finally came out of the break room, steaming hot coffee in his hand. He smirked lazily.

“Good morning and happy birthday, tin can.”

“Good morning to you too and thank you very much, meat sack,” Nines replied.

The teasing that originally started as malicious had grown to be sarcastic and friendly: a part of their routine.

The detective sat down unceremoniously, starting up his computer as he did every normal day.

Thoughts of the present, its significance, and its presentation made Nines’s LED swirl yellow.

Gavin said, still looking his his computer, “Ya doin’ anything for your birthday?”

“I didn’t really think of anything. I think Connor, Sixty, and I are just going to play a new game I had wanted to purchase, but that’s about it.” No other events of significance were marked on his calendar.

“Well, do you wanna try something new? Like, I don’t know, uhm, stargazing? Going somewhere scenic?”

Nines was amazed at how much the detective seemed to remember about him. He had mentioned wanting to get out of the city to look at what nature had to offer a few months back. It was mentioned briefly, but the man had seemed to remember it well. In addition, he had mentioned that he wanted the over-sized stuffed animal in an extremely random conversation during the summer.

How did Gavin remember that? He wasn’t sure, but the fact that he did made Nines feel giddy.

“Yes, that... That sounds rather pleasant, Gavin. Thank you.”

He looked at his partner, smiling.

Gavin rubbed at the scar on his nose with a gentle touch, something Nines knew he had done when he was nervous.

“Yeah, don’t mention it, you glorified toaster.”

He looked back at his computer. Nines scanned him, noticing his increased heart rate and body temperature.

“IT’S A DATE!” Tina called from her desk.

Immediately, the blush and sheepish smile came back to Nines. Gavin noticed how quickly the android’s LED flashed from a calm blue to a deep red. He snapped his head toward her, raising his voice.

“No it’s not, you fuck-nugget!”

Nines covered his face with a hand. Pre-constructions ran through his mind palace, creating an endless amount of scenarios and possibilities, all about Gavin.

His face became impossibly more blue.

Gavin looked like he was about to start fuming, until he took another look at his partner.

“Nines, you okay?” Genuine concern made itself evident in his tone.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me, Gavin.”

Well, fuck.

Nines was sure that Gavin would be the death of him.

#dbh nines #dbh gavin #reed900 #dbh #detroit become human #detroit: become human #900gavin #dbh rk900 #dbh fanfic #myfics #this ended up being WAY longer than expected #i hope you enjoyed :)#i may write a part two #idk if or when i will publish this to ao3 #i just want one of those six foot bears from costco #you can bet your ass if i write a pt two there will be a kiss scene or at least a declaration of love #dbh gavin reed #this was meant to be like 500 words

78 notes · View notes

zuffer-weird-girl · 4 years

Text

Soulmate au

Before you meet your soulmate you have to deal with a chibi version of them before actually meeting them. So can you handle it?

This one is readers point of view

Kai's point of view

Normally people immediately found their chibis of their soulmates when they turned 18. But every rule has their exception.

You were twenty years old and could only watch people talking, cuddling and cooing at the tiny little things or actually their real soulmate... this always leaves a feeling of envy, but you never losed hope. Seeing those couples afterwards gave you ideas on what to do when you finally found your soulmate.

And with the job you had on the library, it was always possible to daydream about it.

Waving goodbye at your coworker you sighed, arranging the books and getting excited to finally end your shift... That was your plan before you yelped when many books from a shelf nearby all fall with an unknown sound.

Grabbing just a ruler as your unique weapon as you slowly tip toed to where it came the sound.

You widened your eyes and trembled at seing the books were moving and you hesitantly poked it with the ruler... making a squeak sound as you tilted your head.

"A... mouse?" You mumbled before screaming and falling in your butt as the book suddenly exploded in front of you in pieces. Breathing in and out you decided to pick at it only to widened your eyes.

A tiny little thing with golden eyes, dark brow hair and the most cute yet weird jacket you ever saw was patting his tiny glived hands while staring nonchantly at them before looking up at you, the same bored expression as before as he shoved his hands on the pockets of his jacket.

"I-It.. it cant be.." you muttered, getting on your knees to look down at the chibi version in front of you. He only arched one eyebrow yet not moving one muscle of his.

You went to touch his cheek with your index finger before he growled and slapped your finger away. It didn't hurt a bit but you still put your hands on surrender.

"Alright! Alright! Weren't you suppose to be more gentle with me?" You exclaimed before deadpanning when you remembered that chibis can't talk.

You looked at the pieces of what was once suppose to be a book and pointed at it.

"Please tell me you can repair that..." he only looked at you before sighing what was probably in annoyance and going to touch and just as a one blink of the eye the book returned as you looked down at him in awe before smilling.

"So this is your quirk huh?"

Since the chibis cant tell the name of them you decided to name your little companion as "goldie" because of the cold of his eyes.... even if for the first few times he only glared at you.

The thing about goldie was that he never was willing to be touched. This confused you a bit at first yet you decided not to pry from it since at night the little chibi would always curl up in your chest and doze off, thinking you were already asleep.

You also notice his passion about cleaning. Ever time it was something dirty or you didn't shower he would emmit huge amounts of 'squeaks' until you cleaned that thing.

"Geez you're a bit demanding arent you?" You giggled while rubbing the sink as he nodded in aproval or confirmation... you couldn't know.

You usually left him alone, but then one day you returned from work and the poor little thing was so scared that it did something you never once thought he would do. Hug any part of you that it could find.

This must meant that in that moment your own soulmate was suffering and your heart clenched at that as you brought Goldie to your cheek as you comforted him the best you could.

Ever since then he demanded to stay on your shoulder and go out along with you.

You were on the library and smiled at a client who went to talk with you for informations, although the male was only getting closer and then noticed the chibi on your shoulder glaring at him like he was about to rip his throat.

"Ah, so you got an soulmate I see." He talked as you giggled an yes "You know what? I dont quite believe those things, what about you and me go to a-" before the guy could finish his sentence Goldie hissed and literally grapped one book, despite being HUGE in comparation with him and hitted on the guy's face.

"WHAT THE FUCK-?!" The young male hissed as you grabbed Goldie in both of your hands as he patted his tiny hands and huffed, crossing his arms over his tiny little chest.

"I'm so sorry sir!" You whispered shouted as the guy left mumbling curses... one that especially caught on your heart strings.

"Quirkless bitch and stupid chibi little shit."

You immediately had your mood down as you tried to hold back the tears already in your eyes before you heard a squeak coming from your hands.

Goldie had a frown on his face before he mentioned for you to lift him up to your eye level only to surprise you with a sweet little kiss on each of your eyes. You immediatly smiled back amd rubbed your cheek with his as he grumbled.

"Aww you act all though but you're a softie on the end aren't you?" You cooed as the tiny male in your hands growled, despite having a pink on his tiny cheeks.

Thre months had passed and you heard your door bell ring. All the hopes that it was your soulmate rised on your chest only to fell as you only saw the mailman handing you a box.

Signing and thanking the worker, you closed the door and found Goldie nimbling on a cake you baked/bought it and you giggled at him, with how threatening he looked once but now looked aa the most adorable thing ever.

You put the box down on the middle of the room and started to open only to be freed aa Goldie touched one bare finger of it to help you.

"Look little guy! You like cleaning do you?" You picked the robot and turned it on, Goldie already on guard as if it was going to attack you "Its a romba! It's a little robot that cleans the floor!" You smiled down at the shock on his face before he climbed on the robot and rode it as it was a car or horse.

You never laughed so hard on your life, especially when Goldie used his foot hit the wall to make the romba go to the place he wanted to be clean.

You woke up with pokes in your cheek, groaning you saw Goldie, waving at you as you smiled and petted his head carefully.

He pointed to the calendar and you groaned. It was the day you needed to go out to buy groceries, looking at Goldie who only deadpanned at you.

"Do I need to?" He only huffed and crossed his arms as you rolled your eyes and prepared to go out.

You were asking for some Takoyaki before Goldie suddenly gone crazy. Getting up on your shoulder and squeaking loudly at some place on the market as you grabbed him on your hands when he almost fell on the floor.

"What?! Hey you're okay?" You tried to bring him close but he only jumped from your grip and ran away. Making you panick and ram after him I'm fear he could be stepped on.

The little guy was fast and even used his quirk to make a wave of concrete to carry him. He turned on an aisle and you almost losed it.

"GOLDIE!" you shouted before stopping abruptly when you saw the chibi of your soulmate on the ground, hugging close another chibi with (E/c) eyes and hair with the color of... wait... it was you! It was a chibi version of you! Hugging and kissing Goldie just as much as he was doing with them.

You gaped at the cuteness of the scene before you saw a male running towards your chibi version only to be stopped by the same reason as you did. The man was way taller than you imagined, and different from Goldie he weared a mask to hide half of his face.

You gaped at how beautiful the man was as his wide amber eyes looked back at your with the same shock.

You took hesitant steps as he did the same, both of you looking at each other as if you both had found a precious and unique treasure.

His eyes slowed went back to normal as he looked at you. You giggled at him making him arch his eyebrow, exactly like Goldie, making you laugh before putting a hand to cover your mouth.

"Sorey!" You said between giggles "Is just that... you act exactly like your chibi."

"Same goes for you." He looked at your chibi version and then back at you, extending one gloved hand at you.

"So, what is my soulmate's name?" He asked nonchantly but the glint of happines of his eyes was way too much evident.

"(L/n) (Y/n). And mine soulmate's name is..?"

"People call me Overhaul... but-" your hand interviewed and you felt all of your body go warm and fuzzy at the way he looked at you "You can call me by my real name. Chisaki Kai."

"Alright." You smiled before the both of your chibis versions squeaked as your soul- Kai. Kai zend a half glare at your chibi version.

"What is it now brat? You found m-"

"You called me brat?" You asked in false disbelief as he at her one eyebrow at you.

"A better name than Goldie." He shivered as you scoffed.

"Is a good name... Goldie." You smirked at him as he scoffed, holding your hand a bit tighter.

"Brat."

#bnha villains #bnha #bnha characters #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #chisaki kai #chisaki kai x reader #overhaul x reader #overhaul #fanfic overhaul #my writing #zuffer writings

495 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

Round Them Up. Yan Giorno x Reader [COMM]

warnings: kidnapping, canon typical violence, and some degrading language. word count: 3.4k.

A simple philosophy of budding romance is to keep date nights special.

You’ve been told this for a long time, that the intimate experience between partners is always meant to be cherished. That with time, among other things, feelings start to change, or fade away all together. It’s a frightening aspect that you used to concern yourself with, the possibility of losing the spark that ignited passion within you in the first place. If these months dating Giorno Giovanna have taught you anything, it’s that these doubts were wrongfully planted. While he’s a busy man, he’s always gone above and beyond for your sake. Fancy dinners at the finest of establishments, picnics on the best private beaches of Italy, and even occasional trips to Milan or Rome. It isn’t the luxury that draws you to him like a moth to flame, but rather the enigma of a personality he brings. Every interaction with Giorno is imprinted on your mind.

Charismatic, thoughtful, blessed with quick wit… your long list of admirations for him goes on. Humming lightly to yourself, there's an extra pep in your step as you take on the relatively mundane task of shopping. Shopping for clothes is usually one of your least favorite activities. Having to go in and out of dressing rooms, trying on multiple sizes of clothes just to find the one you need is out of stock, or the cashier pestering you into signing up for a credit card. The regular reservations that come with purchasing new clothes for your wardrobe are thrown out, as you’re too preoccupied looking forward to tonight. Giorno’s compliments of your person always feel so sincere, like every word has been designed only for you to hear.

Tonight will be no different, an event marked on your calendar for the last month.

A romantic, seaside dinner. For the special occasion, you’re wanting to look the part. Feeling over the fabric underneath your fingertips, you inspect every item on the rack with potent interest. Keeping in mind the most flattering cuts for your body type, and the colors that complement your hair and complexion, multiple possible outfits are piled up one after the other. It’s difficult to fathom that you’ve already been in this store for a little over an hour, still undecided. Store clerks have come and gone, most trying a little too hard to keep you pleased. Finding their hovering around your person stifling, you managed to make your way around the store in hopes of avoiding further confrontation. It doesn’t strike you as strange how you haven’t seen anyone around lately, really. It’s not that busy a time of day, you believe.

“This should just about do it.”

Hoisting up the tentatively picked selection, you make your way towards the back to try them on. When making your way over, you hear your phone buzzing, and look down to see who it is. There’s no fighting the smile that blossoms on your lips at the sight of Giorno’s name popping up on your screen, your phone background a picture of the two of you baking together. There’s flour smeared over his cheek, a result of your doing. Calling back fondly on the memory, your heart leaps in your chest at the chance to talk to him, if even for a brief moment. Sliding to unlock your phone, while balancing your clothes in the other arm, you see he’s asking about your day.

A heavy set of footsteps saunter towards you, like a foreboding omen.

“You must be real happy talking to whoever that is, huh?” A gruff voice catches your attention, and you look up to see an older looking man. He’s of intimidating stature, having broad shoulders, towering over you by at least a foot, accented with a navy suit. By his side are two men in a similar get up, all glowering down at you as if you were a speck of dust. You look around to see if it’s really you he’s speaking to, a spine chilling sensation trickling down your spine. There’s not a single soul in the store, other than the four of you. Not even the cashiers are at their station, the employees that were once buzzing about having vanished in thin air.

There’s some malicious forces at play here. You need to get out of this, as soon as you can.

Gulping, you subconsciously take a step back, pressing your phone to your chest. “Uh, I’m sorry… but can I help you…?”

You cringe at how your voice wanes, not wanting to showcase your helplessness if you could help it. At your further prying, no information is offered. Time is set to a standstill, every passing second feeling more sluggish than the last. The main figure of the group regards you with little warmth, grabbing a picture from his breast pocket. He looks from the object in his hands to you, scrutinizing every detail. Never have you felt so small, so powerless. Whatever is going on here is sending alarms off in your head, a nasty premonition of things to come churning your stomach violently.

“Now, listen to me real carefully. I don’t fancy the thought of messing up a pretty face like yours,” he opens the inside of his jacket, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of a handgun. You almost faint at the not so subtle message. “Follow me without any fuss, and you have my word no harm will come to you.”

Your eyes dart around, searching for help that you’ll never find. Nausea and dizziness are cumbersome, rolling over you like crushing waves. You don’t know what to expect, all you can assume is that this won’t end well. Not trusting your tongue to form the words necessary to prevent the situation from getting worse, you nod your head once. The skin underneath his eyes tighten in mirth, pleased with your subservience, waving off the men behind him. He steps over, gesturing for you to join him by his side. Heart thrown into a frenzy against your ribcage, you’re amazed by how a simple task such as walking grows borderline impossible. Your phone is taken from you in the process, the chance of being tracked through that method now lost. He said that if you came along easily, you won’t be harmed, but why should you believe him? There has to be some way out of this.

The intermingling of speech between the group surrounding you gives the opportunity to look around, having spotted a series of hallways that are fire exits. Your main objective would be avoiding any possible gunfire, the cover these hallways bring the best and possibly only opportunity at an escape. You hold your breath, worried that any change in your breathing might be an indication of your hastily put together plan. With all your strength, you pivot on your heel, fully intending to run to cover. You make it a few paces, a sharp pain in your wrist preventing you from making it any further. A pained noise leaves you at the sudden jolt of pain, the joint being twisted painfully. Too taken with the ringing of your ears to notice their reprimanding words, you’re tugged along roughly. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, dark bruises forming alongside the rapidly swelling skin. To make matters worse, the vice-like grip remains, since they no longer trust you not to make an escape attempt.

Where the stranger walks, you follow in admitted defeat, wanting to alleviate the pain of your wrist. He leads you out the back of the store, many men in similar outfits standing against walls, or slithering in the background. A black car with tinted windows is your final destination. It’s pulled against the curb, the unknown man opening the door for you both to enter. Your nose crinkles at the aroma in the car, a combination of heavy cologne and cigarette smoke. Other cars follow in a single line behind you, the engine roaring to life. It makes you jump, your nerves frayed. There’s too much on your mind to pin down a single question, the tenderness of your fresh injury not helping in that regard. Having a plan to grasp onto, even if it’s a fallible, would be preferable to this. For now, you will yourself through the anxiety that plagues you to search for a solution.

Once the car has taken off, he looks over to you, frowning at your limp hand. “You look scared outta your wits, little miss. Let’s see… that means you must really know nothing.”

Now that you’re seated, the time to gather scraps of information has presented itself. This man isn’t a fellow Neapolitan, holding an accent reminiscent of northern Italy. From the few orders exchanged to what you presume to be his underlings, the dialect could possibly be Tuscan. What would people from there ever possibly want with you? It’s a prayer that may never reach the ears of god, but you pray they’re not taking you somewhere that far away. The best case scenario would be somehow escaping when the car is moving before it reaches the highway, but the car door is locked. Is smashing the window possible? It looks thick, likely bullet proof. There has to be a better opening. Your last escape attempt left much to be desired, but it was a knee jerk reaction. At least they didn’t open fire on you, but would you be so lucky for the next try?

Returning your attention back to the stranger, you immediately regret it. He’s wiping dried crimson off his hands with a handkerchief, staining the cloth. The sight answers the question from before, now certain that bloodshed isn’t one of the cards off the table. The pungent, metallic scent is undeniably blood, fresh one at that. Bile rises to your throat at the sight, hurriedly looking away as if it’d erase the nightmare that you’ve seen. Adrenaline continues pumping through your body, a momentary reprieve from the pain your wrist injury has brought.

Your wandering eyes must have been too much of a giveaway, the man next to you letting out a humorless laugh. “This? I have to admit, Don Giovanna’s men aren’t easy to rid of. I was expecting more of a security detail around his prized passera. Though, seeing as you’ve been kept in the dark, keeping too many men around you might be suspicious.”

There’s a certain bloodlust in the man’s gaze when he speaks Giorno’s surname, that chills your soul. The facades of a polite gentleman fade away, replaced by the spitting image of a mobster. His semantics in referring to you leave much to be desired, though the misogynistic language is the least of your concerns. Holding onto the lackluster set of information at your disposal, you take a wild stab in the dark at what could be happening here. While you’ve never intermingled with the mob, it’s not an uncommon tactic of obtaining wealth. Fleeting as it may be, some people go into crushing debts, having made deals with the devil.

Sitting up straight and setting your lips into a straight line, you project a more composed version of yourself. You don’t want to give away the depths of your fear. “I’m not sure what it is you want with Giorno… but if it’s a money related debt, please let me help with it. I don’t want him to be in trouble.”

The mobster takes a second to register your unprecedented words, eyes widening. Does that mean you figured out what the motivation here is? This assumption is thrown out the window as he bellows over, incapable of masking his amusement.

Cheeks flushing with indignation at how he sputters out a condescending laugh, you want nothing more than to assert yourself. If not for the possible repercussions for doing so, you’d have done it long ago. “Unless you’ve got hundreds of billions of lire in that purse of yours, that won’t work, I wouldn’t count on it. His no drug policy has cost us more than you could imagine.”

The jargon in use here erases all doubts from your mind. There’s no denying the fact that this is somehow related to gangs, Giorno, or both. You’ve never meddled in your partner’s affairs. Never so much as blinking at an eye at the smooth explanations for his coming into wealth, not seeing the point in prying beyond the surface. The usage of Don had caught your attention earlier, though that can sometimes apply to wealthy or powerful men in general. A lump forms in your throat as you think more on the subject, arriving at the conclusion Giorno is involved in more than you ever anticipated.

---

“Are you sure about clearing the schedule for tonight?” Mista inquires, giving the pistol in his hand another glance over. He inspects every groove, having already familiarized himself with all aspects of the weapon. Checking to make sure it can work at all times is a necessity, seeing as he’ll never know when the time will come to use it. Giorno leans back into his chair, not paying immediate heed to the gunslinger’s concerns. He steals a glance down at his phone, still expecting to have seen a message from you by now. At the further absence of your response, he responds to Mista.

“There’s nothing left to discuss. I’ve made my demands of them very clear.” Giorno fights back the urge to sigh, the weight of dealing with rebellious groups sadly nothing new. As long as their avenues of making money involve the drug trade, they won’t ever bend permanently, all of the promises naught but lip service. Not even long lasting Passione allies prove to be fully complacent. That was all before him, anyways, when they could operate without accountability.

“We have enough evidence of their conduct. Niceties are no longer necessary.”

Mista raises an eyebrow, catching onto the hidden intent laced within Giorno’s words. “So it’s come to that, huh? You’d think the stories of what happened to the former narcotics team would be enough to keep them at bay. It was brutal, right Fugo?”

The aforementioned male fights the urge to roll his eyes, leaning against the hardwood of Giorno’s desk. While his role is more of an advisor to Giorno than Mista’s, he can’t help but express a similar sentiment. There likely isn’t a better option, having discussed and been promised dozens of times that the mafioso from Tuscany would cease their drug trades. Each time has proved a fruitless endeavor, the Don from the most prominent group in that area going through great lengths to hide his tracks of the grimy dealings.

“But you know, Giorno… Enzo’s men won’t be taking kindly to being cut off,” Fugo pipes up, taking the opportunity to voice his own share of concern. “You’ve been giving them the cold shoulder for a little over a week. It’s only a matter of time until he figures out what’s going on, or worse… does something about it.”

Giorno gives a look of recognition, having already thought of this. It’s undesirable to think about, but seeing how the day’s heading, he might have to cancel his plans for you tonight. “I’m expecting it, yes. It’s a shame how stubborn he’s been on the matter.”

Fugo’s lips part, only to be interrupted by the door to Giorno’s study suddenly being flung open. Scrunching up his eyebrows at the impudent entrance of one of Passione’s underlings, all words of admonishment disappear when spotting what’s unmistakably your phone in the guard’s hands. The room goes dead silent, Giorno standing from his spot and walking over to inspect your belonging. In the world they live in, this is a threat, most likely relating to the very topic the three of them were just discussing.

“When did this show up?” Giorno takes your phone into the palm of his hand, Mista and Fugo leaving their own spots to do the same. The guard is flushed, out of breath, most likely having run from the entrance of the villa to this spot. Even under the immense pressure this brings, Giorno’s tone remains an even timbre. Fugo spots the slightest of shakes in his fingers, eyes moving back to the guard for the sake of Giorno’s privacy. It’s affecting him on some level, but he knows Giorno; and how he deals with stressors like this.

“J-just now, sir,” The guard explains in a frenzy, chest heaving for air. “We lost contact with [First]’s escorts about five minutes ago, I already sent out men to the last known spot she was seen at.”

Giorno’s lips twitch downwards in evident displeasure, lips pursed. This misfortune of human error will be addressed at a later time, when he knows you’re safe. “Why was I not alerted sooner?”

“We thought it might be a technical issue--”

Your phone has already been imbued with life, morphing into a butterfly from the usage of Gold Experience’s ability. Giorno strides past the bewildered guard without care, Fugo and Mista following soon after him. Fugo reaches down into his pocket, procuring a set of car keys, seeing as Giorno’s set on walking towards the garage. For once, neither he or Mista offer any quips to lighten the situation. Their knowledge of your relationship with Giorno is fuzzy at best, morally obscured at worse. Fugo’s turned a blind eye to the private life of his Don, not wanting to dip into the rabbit hole. He’s seen enough to know you’re blissfully unaware of Giorno’s invisible touch in your life.

Mista is the first to try and speak up. “We’ll get her back, Giorno.”

“Of course.” The words are curt, borderline snappy. They make their way to one of his many sports cars, their attention set on the butterflies movements. Fugo notes how it’s heading north, further confirming the suspicion that you’re currently in the hands of the gangster group from Tuscany. Giorno receives a plethora of phone calls in the drive, ranging in information regarding the attack and your possible whereabouts. A group of cars with unmarked license plates were confirmed by some of the workers at the mall, who had been threatened into compliance. They gave rough descriptions that fit the bill of one of Enzo’s Capos. This feels deeply personal, cutting too close for Giorno’s liking.

He had not been expecting such a brazen counterattack, operating with casualties in broad daylight is almost unheard of. A testament to their desperate mindset, if he had to guess. It’s true that they’ve been bleeding dry ever since he’s enforced the zero tolerance drug policy, not that there aren’t other options of securing wealth. The unsavory method is one of the easiest and most lucrative, before he was in charge that is. His mind goes to you, and the possibilities run rampant.

Gold Experience can heal any physical wounds inflicted on you, but the mental scarring… that will be another issue entirely.

Though, he’s certain that they won’t kill you. You’re too valuable a bargaining chip, but there are fates far worse than death. Thinking about it brings emotions to the surface he hasn’t experienced in a long time, flurries of malicious thoughts pointed towards your captors forming. They’ll meet a befitting death -- he’ll make certain of that -- but your well being is of the top priority. Giorno wills himself to remain in control, fighting off the shakiness that threatens to overtake him. The last thing he needs to do right now is allow his carefully crafted composure to slip, it would serve no one.

He catches Fugo sending him the occasional glance, but thinks little of it.

There’s a strong resolve unique to you, Giorno believes. He regrets not having placed tighter security on you, mentally drafting up ways to avoid a situation like this from ever repeating again. It’ll be a much more constrictive way of living, and while it pains him to think of you losing some freedoms, it’s all for the greater good. Having been so caught up in his personal feelings of allowing you the autonomy to do as you please is what led to this misfortune in the first place, a mistake he will not repeat. When you’re back in his sight, completely safe, he’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again.

You’ll come to understand it.

335 notes · View notes

jpegjade · 4 years

Text

Physical Therapy - Ch. 1 (Spencer)

WELCOME TO PHYSICAL THERAPY!! in honor of this bish starting physical therapy in real life (and missing it bc i can’t drive and my mom and i’s schedules not being synched on google calendar all the time) i’ve decided to write a fic about it. it will be a little series with a goal (yes, an end game) and it’ll be cute. some of it is based on actual things that happen and some is literally just the story. ENJOY.

gender: neutral

tw: nothing that i can think of

genre: fluff | angst

Description: After getting shot in the leg, spencer goes through physical therapy before he can get back in the field completely. What happens when he starts to fall for his physical therapy assistant?

__________________

Two honks at 6am meant that it was time for Spencer to get going. Derek was downstairs, in the car, waiting on boy wonder to crutch his way out of the apartment complex. Derek wasn’t sure how to feel about this trip considering he missed his early morning run for this but he knew how nervous Spencer was for his evaluation today so he didn’t mind as much as he could have minded.

Spencer was patiently waiting in a pair of very short shorts, mismatched socks, and running shoes. He threw on a t-shirt and looked in the mirror, noting how tired he looked. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately for some reason but he couldn’t be sure why. He combed out his hair one more time before he and his crutches headed to the elevators.

“Ready, kid?” Derek said, opening the front door for Spencer like a world class chauffeur would if Spencer was a celebrity.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Spencer mumbled.

In truth, Spencer was more than ready to get started on his physical therapy journey. He wanted to get back in the field full time, adrenaline pumping, connecting with victims, walking again. He didn’t mind the assisted mobility but it was hard for him to know that the best he could do sometimes was stay back in the office or hang out in Garcia’s batcave.

The car ride was filled with a comfortable silence between the two men. Derek was thinking about how he could make up his missed morning run by doing another type of high cardio workout while Spencer was just trying to figure out why it had to be him. He wouldn’t wish the frustration of his recovery process on anyone else on the team but the frustration of the recovery process just got to him on some days. Today was one of those days.

Derek pulled up to the physical therapy clinic sooner than Spencer hoped. Part of that was because Derek was a very fast driver while the other part was because Spencer wasn’t paying attention for most of the drive.

“You owe me one.” Derek said, completely joking. Well… Partially. That morning run was what kept him awake during the day, energizing him for work.

“Do you want to come in?” Spencer said, looking down at his hands in his lap.

Spencer’s hands were tapping his leg as he awaited Derek’s answer. He was nothing short of a nervous wreck on the inside. All he could think about was how much pain he would be in once the evaluation was over and the physical therapist had finished poking and prodding at his knee. He hated to think that it would be worse than everything else going on. Plus he still had to go to work today.

“Sure, kid.” Derek said.

Derek wasn’t going to sit in the car and do nothing the whole time so he might as well support his friend.

Climbing out of the car, the boys slowly made it to the sliding glass doors of the physical therapy clinic. Much to Spencer’s surprise, it was nothing like he originally imagined it to be. Some part of him thought it would somewhat resemble the clinic where his mother resided but it was completely different. There were floor to ceiling walls for over half of the first floor building. High tech equipment was stationed everywhere from anti gravity treadmills to hand bike motors, medicine balls and so much more. Spencer stood in the doorway, leaning on his crutches, while he took everything in. There was so much light in the air, it was almost like the feeling of recovery was airy and not meant to bog him down. This was a strange feeling for him to comprehend...

“You coming, pretty boy?” Derek called, taking a break from chatting with the pretty receptionist.

Spencer and his crutches walked over to the front desk and grabbed the paperwork that covered how much pain he was in today. He filled it out quickly, hoping to get everything over with sooner than later. He was already here so he might as well just finish everything quickly so he could get out of the place.

When he finished writing everything down, he returned the paperwork to the receptionist who slipped him a piece of paper and pointed to Derek. Spencer already knew it was the receptionist’s personal phone number and he didn’t even need to look at the paper. Sitting down, Spencer handed Derek to a very confused Derek before it hit him what it was. Derek winked at the receptionist, who blushed before answering the phone.

“Spencer?” A voice called his name shortly after he sat down.

It was nice to know that here, he didn’t have to be a doctor. He was just another person healing. He didn’t have to be smart, he could just exist.

“Good luck.” Derek said, noticing that Spencer’s hand was shaking in the slightest bit.

“My name is Nora and I will be your lead physical therapist.” The woman said, walking Spencer to a vacant padded table. It reminded Spencer of the types of tables you lay on when you get a massage.

He only got a massage once when Garcia got stood up on a couples’ massage date. He spent half of his part of the massage giving the masseuse facts about how their job could actually give them an infection from the amount of germs in the air and on the table. His delivery of facts caused the room to be incredibly uncomfortable and bleach the table very thoroughly. By the time he and the masseuse finished, only 5 minutes were left in the massage and Garcia was left horrified and amused at the same time.

“Don’t worry. We bleach the tables every time someone finishes a session.” Nora said, noticing the look on Spencer’s face. Spencer visibly relaxed and sat on the table.

“So, Spencer, tell me a little bit about yourself.” Nora followed up, pulling up a backless roller chair.

“Well, I was on a case and the unsub, unknown subject, shot at a dad but it ended up hitting me in the leg instead and…” Spencer paused, looking at Nora’s amused face.

“No, I mean tell me about you. Your hobbies, what you do for fun, things like that. I need to do a complete profile for you so I know how your quality of life has been affected and which exercises you can do at home so we aren’t pushing too fast.” Nora smiled at Spencer.

“I work.” Spencer said in a matter-of-fact tone. He didn’t really have anything else to say.

“Okay. So you’re a workaholic.” Nora wrote. She was about to ask a new question when you came quickly walking to Nora.

Spencer was left dumbfounded. There seemed to be a halo of light radiating around you, making you glow. He knew it was the sun finally rising but his brain short circuited as he continued to gaze at you.

“Hey Nora?” You said, looking down at your boss. “Mrs. Gillespi wants to know why you haven’t come back to check her form. She doesn’t trust me because, her words here, I ‘look like a child who doesn’t know their left foot from the color orange.’”

“Sure. Here, you can take over Spencer’s evaluation.” She handed you her clipboard.

You looked at the detailed notes on the paper and then up at Spencer, who looked like one of the youngest people here.

“It’s not often we get cute guys in this place. Other than Kyle. But Kyle’s an asshole who could almost be my dad.” You blurted, not realizing you said it outloud as soon as Nora left.

You noticed that he started blushing and looking at his converse and you realized that you said something. You usually spoke your thoughts out loud but the people you worked with were used to it so no one bothered to say anything.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“You called me cute.” Spencer said. “Which is fine. I don’t understand the appeal but I do believe that your blurting of what you perceive as a fact is a coping mechanism. It can also be tied to ADHD, which is a common mental disorder that causes your brain to impulsively say things.” Spencer paused, looking at your face.

“What?” You asked, again, confused.

“I’m not saying you have ADHD. I’m a doctor but not that kind of doctor. Although I could get another Ph. D. Prove my father wrong. And…” Spencer realized he was rambling.

“Cute and a talker.” You said, writing that down.

You wrote something down on the paper that Spencer couldn’t see but he was curious about.

“Let’s check out that leg.” You said, pulling out an instrument that looked like a compass.

You asked Spencer to move his knee certain ways and it wasn’t as bad as Spencer thought. You were gentle, soft even. Your hands were delicate and you ended the session massaging his leg and smiling at him.

“You were a good patient today, doctor Spencer.” You said, smiling at him.

Spencer blushed, unable to meet your eyes.

“You… I mean… I enjoyed our session.” Spencer said. “Which I don’t normally enjoy. Not that I’ve been shot before. Or had physical therapy. Or been here. Or even worked out really.”

“You’re funny, doc.” You smiled. “Your next appointment is Tuesday of next week according to the schedule so I guess I’ll see you then. I can’t wait.”

Spencer stared at you as he wondered why you were so excited.

“Why?” Spencer asked.

“It’s not every day I get the case for a cute guy who is smart and awkward. It’s almost like the heavens have answered my hopes and prayers.” You joked, looking up at the ceiling and putting your hand on your heart.

“I believe in science.” Spencer stated, grabbing his crutches.

“A man of science. Does it get any better? What’s your star sign?” You joked.

“Scorpio.” Spencer stated.

“Oop. All the scorpios I know have been some hoes. You better not be a hoe, doc.”

“I’m definitely not a gardening tool, if that’s what you’re referring to. Otherwise, I’d like to thing my lack of dating skills doesn’t qualify as being a… hoe? Although, I don’t believe in the use of the word to describe someone who enjoys spending time with multiple people. I’d like to think the use of the word is meant in jest and fun for a term of endearment.” Spencer stood up, balancing on his crutches.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You said, walking slowly with Spencer to the front desk.

“What’s your name?” Spencer asked, turning to you. He realized that he never got your name.

“Y/n.” You smiled.

The clouds must have parted again because as soon as you turned to walk away from him, towards Nora, you were covered in another halo. And just like that, you were gone again.

_____________________

Future tag list:

@ellvswriting @sageandberries-png @l0ve-0f-my-life @rexorangecouny @kennedywxlsh

Want to be added? Tell me!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #cm

165 notes · View notes

twinkiefairy · 3 years

Text

Who wants to read a snipped of my Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Lost fic? The actual thing isn’t ready to share yet but this part was really fun for me to write so! Enjoy.

CW: food mention

Spoilers: Not really, but this is set around Season 1, Episode 18-19ish if you want to be extra careful.

In the fic, you play as 16-year-old Carolina “Lynn” Bonnet, a Lost fan who found herself on the island along with the rest of the survivors. This is just one scene from it!

Find it below:

“Do you know what day it is?” The voice sounds angry, urgent.

“Huh?” you look up from the book you’re reading to find Cooper, a middle aged man who lives a few tents down from you with his wife, Amy.

“I said, do you know what day it is?” he repeats.

Why does that matter? “Uhm. No, sorry. I haven’t really been keeping track.”

“Exactly!” he yells out, victorious. “You don’t! No one does! So explain to me why my wife is so upset that I didn’t realize it was our anniversary?”

Yikes.

“Fuck October 30th. I’m never doing a fall wedding again,” Cooper mumbles under his breath and stomps off, apparently deciding to rant to someone else.

You snort. Again?

Then his words hit you. Did he say October 30th?

You have to double check this. But how can you? You don’t have a calendar with you, and even if you did, it would be useless if you hadn’t been crossing off the days since the crash. Someone must be keeping track, though. But who?

Looking around, you find your answer.

“Rose!” You call, bounding up to her. She’s kneeling in front of a makeshift water container, scrubbing laundry. “Rose, what day is it?”

“You too?” She asks, sounding peeved. “What’s going on with everybody today? I just had Cooper here asking me the same thing. Don’t tell me you forgot your anniversary, too.”

You laugh. “No, no. But I heard Cooper say it was October 30th. Is that right?”

“By my count it is,” she answers, still doing laundry. “Why?”

“Don’t you know what this means?” You say, getting excited.

Rose looks at you expectantly, eyebrows arched.

“It’s Halloween tomorrow!” You exclaim. Isn’t it obvious? “We have to do something!”

Rose is amused. “You wanna go trick-or-treating?”

“I don’t know,” you say, already coming up with ideas. Obviously there isn't much candy to go around, but… “We could have a costume party!”

“Honey, I’ve washed every single piece of usable clothing in this place,” Rose says, not unkindly. “Twice. I’d know if there were any costumes around.”

“If I find you a costume to wear,” you offer. “Would you come to the party?”

Rose stares you down. “Just don’t dress me up as one of those Sexy Rabbits, you hear me?”

You laugh, and the deal is made.

***************

“And we’ll need food,” Hurley is saying, excited. “And music. I can get Sayid to fix the batteries on my CD player. Maybe even get some speakers. That’d be mad cool.”

It didn’t take much to convince Hurley to help you plan the Halloween party. He took to the idea with enthusiasm as soon as mentioned the words “Halloween party”, almost as if he was waiting for you to ask.

“What should we do for costumes?” You ask. “Rose said there weren’t any on the plane. We’re gonna have to provide them for people if we really want this to be a costume party.”

Hurley thinks about it for a second. “We could do hats,” he suggests, at last. “It’s much easier than trying to figure out shirt sizes for everyone.”

That gives you an idea. “Crowns! We’ll make it like one of those fancy balls, for royalty and stuff,” you suggest, excited. “Crowns are easy to make out of paper. And we can even make some flower crowns, too, if I can find someone to teach me how. We can make a bunch, then people would pick one for themselves as they come in.”

“I have an old comic book we can use for paper,” Hurley offers, warming up to the idea. “I can get Charlie to help me cut out the shapes and stuff.”

“Perfect,” you say. “You take the paper crowns. Let me take care of the flower crowns. I know exactly who to go to.”

*****************

“Hey, Claire!” You greet her cheerfully. “Whatcha doooooing?”

She chuckles, doing that little side-glance that she does when she’s amused but doesn’t really know what’s going on. “I’m just… Watching the waves, I guess.”

“Great,” you say. “Now listen. I have a very important question for you.”

She frowns quickly, but she’s smiling. “Okay?”

“Have you ever made a flower crown?”

Claire grins. “A flower crown? Sure. My friends and I made them all the time in school.”

You clap excitedly. “That’s perfect! Come with me. I need your help.”

“What’s going on?” She asks, carefully getting up.

“It’s Halloween tomorrow!” You explain. “Hurley and I are planning a costume party for everyone. We’re making crowns for people, so we can pretend it’s a royal ball. It’ll be fun!”

Claire bites her lip, smiling. “I know exactly where we should go.”

*************************

Claire leads you through the forest into a wide clearing. Every inch of the ground is covered in flowers of every color, shape, and size.

“Woah,” you say, breathless. “How did you find this place?”

“Beautiful isn’t it?” Claire smiles. “I found it on one of my longer walks.”

“It’s amazing,” you agree.

She smiles at you. “Come on,” she says, grabbing you by the hand. “I’ll show you how to pick the best flowers for crowns.”

The two of you spend hours among the flowers, calling to each other whenever you pick an especially beautiful one, and weaving their stalks to make wreaths fit for any head. It’s relaxing and peaceful, and the two of you giggle about nothing at all until the sun is about to set.

You make so many crowns between the two of you that you struggle to carry them back to camp without flattening the petals, but you manage— not without a healthy dose of laughter.

*********************

Hurley is excited to see you, and gushes over the flower crowns.

“Dude,” he says. “They look amazing.” Then he starts, as if remembering. “I have something to show you, too.”

He takes you to an area of the beach that has been sectioned off for the day for Hurley’s crafts. On an elevated piece of metal from the plane are rows and rows of colorful paper crowns. Some of them sit a little crooked, but you have to admit that using the comic book was a fantastic idea— the colors are bright and strong, and so varied from page to page that each of the crowns has its own unique personality.

“Hurley,” you say, genuinely. “These are amazing.”

“Pretty cool, huh?” He beams with pride.

*********************

The party is absolutely wonderful. More people show up than you really expected— word must have spread quickly around camp. There’s a great assortment of fruit, courtesy of Kate and Sun. People seem to take to the crown idea eagerly— almost everyone around you is wearing one, including yourself. Claire’s is specially beautiful, one she made herself to make her light eyes pop. Hurley is smiling more than ever, offering people food, helping them pick a crown that fits their personalities, and making conversation with everyone— a perfect host. The music makes the atmosphere feel extra special— thanks to Sayid, who fixed up Hurley’s CD player— and the light from the nearby fire adds a warm glow to the air.

Sawyer refused to join, retreating into his tent and claiming he had a massive headache. But you left a paper crown near the entrance of his tent earlier, and when you walk by sometime later, it’s gone.

People dance. Walt, in particular, has a way of energizing the dance floor in a way that surprises you, for such a relatively quiet kid. Sayid and Shannon are inseparable, especially during the slower songs. Rose, true to her word, waltzes around, a crown atop her head. Charlie knows all the lyrics to all the songs, and mimics playing the guitar or drums as he mouths the words.

Sun and Kate sit to the side, content to just watch, until Claire drags Kate into the makeshift dance floor despite her protests that she does not dance. From a distance, you can see Kate refusing the flower crown Claire offers her, and Claire, unbothered, reaches for a black-and-blue paper crown instead. This time, Kate surrenders, and Claire carefully places the crown on her head.

It’s beautiful, all of it.

#i just cannot stop thinking about a halloween party on the island #such a huge missed opportunity #i just want these people to have one (1) moment of happiness is that too much to ask #i might delete this later tbh #if you have ~thoughts~ youre welcome to share but this is ultimately for me #im just being generous and sharing it lol #being lost #lost choices #idk what im gonna name it actually #abc lost #lost abc #lost fic #lost #lost tv show #lost show

32 notes · View notes

haloud · 3 years

Text

things we could burn in one go (eminence) - chapter 6

also on ao3

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Isabel Evans & Max Evans & Michael Guerin, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes Additional Tags: post-s2, Canon Compliant, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, starts forlex ends malex, other characters may appear - Freeform, tags subject to update

Chapter Summary: Alex comes home to find his world turned upside down; Max and Isobel struggle to save Michael’s life.

Excerpt:

How close did they come to that chest being stilled forever? The answer was clear, splashed rust-red across Michael’s clothes, and Alex couldn’t stand it, couldn’t reconcile it, couldn’t balance the equation made by Michael this morning and Michael here, now, this.

Alex stood sharp, with a purpose, stood over Michael whose eyes moved rapid behind his lids, Michael who flushed with life but hadn’t lived since being healed, Michael who could so easily be an illusion of hope, snatched away in a second, snuffed out. Jerkily, Alex shot out a hand, then yanked it back, checked over his shoulder for Max or Isobel or—anyone—like a kid with a hand in the cookie jar. A touch so innocuous, necessary, even; Michael shouldn’t be forced to rest with dirty clothes; but. Was he allowed? Was the universe watching?

His hands were heavy; purpose and gravity worked on them, yet with a weightless almost-faith they remembered the hill and valley of Michael’s chest, the texture and temperature of his skin, the cartography, topography of loving him and being loved.

Rain pounded the windshield, and pain pounded Alex’s head, from the back of his neck to behind his eyes. He huffed out short relief when he finally turned down his quiet street and settled back against his seat, no longer needing to squint through the panicked flutter of the windshield wipers at the too-bright lights of other cars as he coasted into his driveway. Parked, he rolled his shoulders back and stretched, heavy eyelids opening and shutting, brain ticking over slowly as it tried to marshal signals to his body to get him out of the car and to the door.

Exhaustion didn’t cover the way everything wore on him. Work, other people, the Project hanging over him like Damocles—how much longer could he hold Fields off without an answer before she took drastic action or moved on, maybe even called Flint in? He had a calendar in the drawer by his bed counting down the days to the end of his contract, hidden away so he didn’t have to explain himself when Forrest stayed over. Not that he relished everything about a return to civilian life, a life he’d never lived as an adult…

Even his loved ones wore on him sometimes. Guilt was another chain around his shoulders, from the way he’d ghosted Kyle for weeks, to shooting down offers from Maria to hang out, to letting his morning call with Liz this week slip from a real conversation to a perfunctory text confirmation that Arturo and Rosa were fine. On top of that, he still hadn’t texted Forrest since he landed, and now Alex was avoiding his phone, the tension of expectation he imagined on the other side of the line too much to bear.

And then there was Michael. Brilliant, stubborn Michael, who reminded him without meaning to how wide a gulf he still had to cross to regain his trust, the trust that Alex would always protect him, no matter what.

But—one day at a time. Hour by hour if he had to. Old advice from the counselor he saw after his injury, but no matter how high the papers piled up in his mental inbox (call your therapist), he hadn’t been able to get himself to book a new appointment with a new one, so he’d do what he could, and fall back on the somewhat insufficient tools he had in his outdated toolbox.

And one day at a time meant getting out of his car, carrying his groceries through the rain, and getting in the front door. Okay.

As he turned to leave the car, something moved in his peripheral vision, and he whipped his head around to chase it. Squinting through sheets of rain and twilight-gray haze, he could just make out a dark shape huddled beneath the overhang, but whether it was human, animal, or object, it was impossible to tell. Through the thundering static downpour, Buffy howled behind the door.

Moving slowly, he retrieved his combat knife from the glove box and cracked the door open. The rain rushed up from a rattle to a roar, loud enough to cover the scrape of his boots against concrete and brick as he crept toward the porch. He was soaked cold within moments, blinking water out of his eyes, still and smooth as a cat after decades of conditioning, every muscle locked to avoid tremor. The closer he got, the louder Buffy grew, barking and slamming herself against the door. A few feet closer, and the shape took form—human, definitely human, adult male by size, but whoever it was, they were slumped beside the door, not crouched, not lying in wait, so Alex lowered his knife.

Still creeping closer, he spoke up, “Hey! Do you need help—”

But before he could get out a single word more, the person lifted their head, and—

“Michael?”

Alex bounded forward the last few feet, dropping his knife with a splash, flinging himself to one knee beside Michael’s huddled form, grasping at his sopping clothes, seeking injury, something, anything.

“Michael, what’s wrong? What—”

He tipped his face up and his head lolled back; his breath rattled in his chest. The only color between his ashen face and rain-black hair was an ugly streak of red from the corner of his mouth across his cheek and chin, and a gust of wind blew the storm against them, washing his blood pink, and then it was gone.

“Michael!” Alex repeated, more urgently, frantically. How did this happen? Who could have done this? Alex’s mind shot straight to his own earlier question—how long would Fields let him go without answering. Was this his answer? Tripp’s dog tags hung leaden around his neck. He could choke on them, on the cold tin symbol of his own inaction, even now.

“Max is already on his way,” Michael said, voice breathy and labored, then laughed, a bizarre and throaty caricature of his normal laugh, and his elbow bent robotically to let him tap his temple. “Called him.”

“Why didn’t you go straight to him so he could heal you? Michael? Michael!”

But he was gone; his eyes rolled back to whites, and he slumped strings-cut so Alex almost dove to catch him in his arms; his hand fell from his head to the brick patio and struck the ground with the force of gravity, skinning his knuckles.

It took seconds for Alex to process his shock—seconds Michael might not have to waste, but nonetheless--the rain had his hands slipping on his skin, so Alex held on tighter, clutching Michael’s head to his chest, curling his body around him on the most animal instinct to shield, shelter, protect.

Despite the cold downpour, Michael’s skin was feverish, his breathing bad and worsening, his pulse fast and weak. Bracing his weight on his good leg, Alex pulled Michael over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and stood and unlocked the door.

Buffy’s barking stopped as it swung open; she scrambled around Alex’s feet, pawing at his legs, herding him inside, sniffing at Michael’s fingertips that dangled inches from the ground. Panting, Alex hauled him to the couch and set him down.

Inside, out of the rain, Michael somehow looked worse. His entire front was soaked with blood along with rain; he stank of it, all copper and salt, and bile rose in Alex’s throat. He held his breath and grabbed a towel.

“Gonna ruin your stuff,” Michael rasped. “Gonna ruin…”

Milliseconds before pressing call to figure out how far away Max was, Alex dropped his phone from numb fingers as Michael—there was no word for it, for a second, a heartbeat, Alex lost all faith in his own eyes—as Michael blurred and disappeared and blurred and reappeared a few feet away, whining like a shot doe.

“What the f—Michael!”

“Alex!” Max’s voice bellowed. A fist pounded on the door, shaking the entire frame.

“It’s open!” Alex called back, dropping to the ground beside Michael again and lifting his head into his lap. “Michael,” his voice broke as Max threw the door open. “Michael, what happened? What’s happening?”

His only answer was a babble, words Alex couldn’t understand, words that doubled, tripled in on themselves, moved backwards to forwards and slid out of Alex’s mind the second he heard them, alien, unknowable.

“Michael!” The word wrenched out of Max’s mouth. Buffy paced behind him, whining, letting out a single loud, anxious bark that went unanswered as all the energy in the room funneled toward Michael.

“Hey—[][][][][][][],” Michael said, a horrible, gasping laugh rattling out of his chest.

As the words left his mouth, he groaned and curled in on himself, choking, splattering himself with more blood as it bubbled up between his teeth; then Alex had to strain to hold him still as his back snapped into an arch. Light flashed, then flashed again, and Alex’s logical mind wanted to call it lightning but—but it wasn’t. It came from inside Michael, as all the strength left his muscles and he collapsed, again, limp against Alex. He was so feverishly hot, even for him.

“What the fuck,” Alex whispered. His mind came up blank for anything else to say; his hands tightened, one hand’s nails digging into his bicep, a fistful of bloody shirt in his other. Michael tipped his head to the side, nodding against Alex’s chest.

“Alex,” he croaked.

“I’m here.” To Max, he repeated, “What the fuck? I saw him just a few hours ago, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Max said, reaching out to grab him.

Alex’s hands tightened more, on pure instinct, clutching Michael to his body, but then he forced himself to let him go, to let Max lay hands on him.

Max continued, “I heard him in my head, like he screamed in my ear, and I just—knew he’d be here, somehow. It’s not normal, it’s not—we never hear Michael, he’s always closed off. I don’t know what happened.”

As he spoke, his hands wandered over Michael, across the bloodstains on his chest and neck. His brow furrowed; he moved as if on autopilot, until his hands found purchase on Michael’s temples, and he closed his eyes. Softly, his hands began to glow, and Alex held his breath.

If Max couldn’t fix him…

No. He wouldn’t even entertain the thought for a second, not when his body still tingled with the sense memory of Michael’s living heat. He couldn’t die; it went against nature.

Max grunted, and his exertion pulled Alex back down to earth. He couldn’t do anything for Michael that Max couldn’t right now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be helpful. Levering himself to his feet, he headed for the bathroom, Buffy following, barking anxiously. Wrenching open the medicine cabinet, he downed two Tylenol dry to head off the pain in his leg and hip he knew was coming, then from under the sink he snatched a fresh bottle of acetone and marched back to the den.

There, it was something out of a horror movie, rain lashing the windows, lit only by the artificial twilight of an afternoon storm, Michael spread out, skin grey, blood red, Max hunched over him looking half as sick, and Alex thrust the bottle at him.

“Drink,” he ordered, and as Max obeyed, guzzling the acetone, gasping between gulps, Alex returned to where he belonged—at Michael’s other side, holding on to him as if their bodies touching would be enough to keep his spirit tethered to this world—the only world—that is, the world they shared together, rendering all others that may exist utterly meaningless.

As nightmarish a scene as they made, Alex let out a sigh of relief when he clutched Michael’s wrist and felt his pulse strengthen. His eyes moved rapidly under his lids; his breathing was regular.

“It’s working,” Alex said, voice croaking out through a thickened throat.

“I hope,” Max groaned. “His mind is like—it’s like an animal fighting back. I need Isobel, I called her, but I’m afraid if she went in we’d lose her too. I can’t think—” his eyes met Alex’s, terrified. “It has to be Jones. Jones did something, I can’t think of anything else that might have done this.”

Alex could. But he seized on the opportunity to have an enemy he could exact answers from, one that didn’t lie at his own front door.

Absentmindedly, searching for soothing and knowing on a base level where it lived, Alex ran his fingers through Michael’s rain-soaked, sweat-soaked hair, stroking it away from his forehead. Blood was drying in rivulets now on Michael’s face and neck, and Alex followed the path of one with the tip of his finger, from the corner of his eye down his cheek.

How close had he come to losing him? If he’d been stuck in traffic, if he’d stopped for coffee on the way home, would it have been too late?

No. No thinking like that now. Stay in the moment.

“What do you need?” he asked Max, who finished off the acetone and tossed the bottle aside, reaching for Michael again.

“I think I won’t know until Michael wakes up again. If he does. If not…Isobel will be here soon.”

“When you heal, can you feel what it is you’re healing? Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“Sort of?” Max’s hands began to glow again. “I’m healing burst blood vessels—all over his body. Internal scarring, almost like burns, it’s—bizarre.” He shuddered. “What I can feel from his head is separate, and I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

Michael shivered in Alex’s arms as Max placed his hands on his head again and filled his body with light, and Alex kept his eyes on Max, watching for any sign he was hitting his limit.

“How’s your heart?” He asked, though the concern flowed bitter and false over his tongue. Even at his coldest, most calculating, he wouldn’t bring himself to sacrifice Max outright, but if Max had to give his life to save Michael’s, would Alex truly stop him?

“I’ll live,” Max replied through gritted teeth.

Over by the door, Buffy rattled off a series of barks, getting louder and louder until the door slammed open. Alex flinched at the sound, hand flying to where his gun would be if he was wearing it, even though he knew with near-certainty who it would be.

“Where is he?” Isobel shouted, red-faced and panting as she rounded the corner into the living room, Buffy jumping and barking at her heels. “Michael!”

“Iz!”

The glow from Max’s hands faded, and he struggled almost to his feet, but Isobel was there before he stood fully, folding him into the hug he was trying to give her. Then Isobel reached for Michael, shoving Alex aside so she could cling to her brother, and Alex went.

She made a strangled noise when he was in her arms, limp and lifeless even after all Max’s effort.

“I’ll get more acetone. Maybe he’ll drink some,” Alex said, using the couch to pull himself to his feet.

Isobel continued to ignore him, but Max grabbed Alex’s wrist and said a quiet thank you as Alex left the siblings alone.

The bathroom door snicked closed behind Alex before he turned the light on, and in the dark he breathed in deep and deliberate until his lungs no longer caught on every inhale against his aching ribs, his galloping heart. He white-knuckled the sides of the sink to keep himself upright until the shaking stopped.

And when he checked all his welds and seams and found himself still watertight, he turned the light on, met his own eyes in the mirror, just once, and got back to business, grabbing the rest of the eight-pack of acetone.

Before he opened the door, his phone buzzed, and he flicked it open. It was a text from Forrest.

Hey! Just got back to the hotel after dinner. Having a great time so far…but I keep thinking I’d have more fun with you here. How’s my girl doing? And how’s my man?

Alex’s thumb hovered over the keyboard for a few seconds, lips pressed together, head blank of anything to say. Then, a lump in his throat, he shut it down without replying, and headed back to Michael and the Evanses.

He breathed a little easier when he re-entered the room and was met with a different scene than before. Max and Isobel had Michael laid out on the couch—and Alex’s mind flashed back to the way Michael had disappeared and reappeared and what the fuck was that?—and he rested more peacefully than he had before. Color was coming back to his skin.

Isobel sat on the arm of the couch, stroking Michael’s hair off his forehead, while Max sat on the floor at the other end, back against the couch.

“Thank you, Alex,” Isobel said, acknowledging him for the first time.

Alex acknowledged her back with a nod, as Buffy paced from the couch to the door and back again a few times, finally settling with a whuff against Max, resting her head on his thigh, looking up at him with huge, soft eyes.

“Hey girl,” he said softly, petting her ears.

“How is he?” Alex asked.

“Alive. Sleeping.” Isobel ran her hand across his forehead again. “We’ll see where his mind is when he wakes up.”

Alex sat on the piano bench, folding his hands between his knees. “Max kept saying he’d never felt anything like this before. Can you describe it to me?”

She groaned and rubbed her temples, and Max nudged a bottle of acetone closer to her. “It’s almost like interference, but not. There’s nothing in there that isn’t Michael; he’s not possessed. But it’s like Michael’s been repeated. A thousand different Michaels all shouting at once. He’s quieter now. But…I don’t know.”

Watching Michael’s face, approaching peaceful in an unconsciousness Alex was too fearful to be fooled by, Alex spoke slowly, uncertainly.

“When you discovered you could use telekinesis alongside your other powers, what was that like? Was it spontaneous, or…?”

“Not really? Noah said that we all had the potential for much more than we imagined, and—after—I was so angry, I thought, if Michael can use his anger this way, why not me?” She shrugged an elegant shoulder. “So I wouldn’t call it spontaneous. I could always have done it, I just never thought to, until I did. Like knowing how to swim and learning a new stroke. I was clumsy at it at first, but I was just doing something I already knew how to do in a different way.”

“Hm.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Before you both got here, Michael was…”

“He called me. Like your psychic scream, Isobel, except he’s never done that before. And he kept emitting light. While I was healing him,” Max said, looking up at Isobel. “Flashes of light. Not electricity.”

“And before you got here, he—teleported. Only word for it. Something none of you have ever done.”

“What?”

Isobel grabbed Michael’s shoulder tightly, like he might disappear right in front of her, like she could stop him. Max just shook his head silently. He really did look awful, eyes red, dark bruises beneath them, a shakiness to him that hadn’t been there last time Alex saw him, some random Thursday when he brought marshmallows to Michael’s because he’d never actually had a smore that wasn’t made in the microwave. Maybe his condition came down to the rigors of saving someone’s life with your own, but considering how worried Michael had been for weeks, Alex thought not.

“I don’t know,” Alex said, dragging his hands over his face. “None of us know. We’re just talking in circles.”

“I guess we just have to wait for Michael to tell us,” Max said.

“Or we go beat it out of that bearded f—”

“No, Isobel.”

“You can’t keep defending him.” Her voice went high and loud, zero to a hundred. “Look what he’s done! He almost killed Michael, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m not defending him!” Max shot back, wounded. “I’m telling you not to go running off on some half-cocked vengeance scheme when Michael still needs you here! If he’s lost inside his own head somehow, there’s no one who can help him but you. We’ll deal with Jones later, when we know Michael is safe.”

Isobel growled but capitulated.

Not letting any ugly silence settle, Alex got up and said, “I’ll put some coffee on.”

They watched over Michael for all the rest of that evening and into the night, as the storm quieted and the sun set and Michael’s hair dried into a familiar halo of curls. At some point, Isobel brought Alex’s groceries in, half-ruined, and Max made dinner with whatever could be salvaged. While they worked, Alex sat with Michael in a chair pulled up to the couch where he lay, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

They started slowly. He eased up the hem of Michael’s ruined t-shirt with a pinch of fabric, without touching his body at all; he inched it up his back where it rested against the couch, until he ran out of room to work with cloth alone. The shirt bunched around his underarms.

Alex had no choice but to touch, so he did.

His hand still fit the circumference of Michael’s arm, and he lifted it. Michael moved without resistance, idle art in living warmth, velvet skin, liquid veins. Alex moved as if he was as delicate as glass. The second arm was no easier; Alex worked just as tenderly, every inch of his skin lit up with sensation. Leave no trace, like Michael’s body was some untouched scrap of woodland in Alex’s brief custody rather than the sweetly historied path toward home. But that was where Alex was right now, what time and choice made of them.

He pulled the shirt over Michael’s head, and it came away easy in his hands, and he went to his bedroom to get a new one.

The whole thing took less than a minute.

Michael slept on.

“Any change?” Max asked softly, handing Alex a plate of the dinner he’d already forgotten about. Buffy followed him from the kitchen, but she didn’t go after the food, opting for her bed beside the piano, where she continued to watch Max with adoring eyes. He didn’t comment on Michael’s shirt, for which Alex was pathetically grateful. In the kitchen, the water ran as Isobel did the dishes.

“No. Can…you sense any change? Through your bond, or through a handprint?”

“No. Maybe? When I first got here, he took up so much space, metaphorically, psychically, that it was almost hard to breathe. He feels more like himself now. Like he fits inside his body. So that’s probably good.”

“Probably,” Alex agreed.

The water shut off, and Isobel appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “I’m going in,” she said flatly.

“What?” Max asked.

“His head. I’m going in. I need to see what he’s seeing; to try and pull him out. This?” she waved a hand at Michael. “Isn’t normal. Liz died and she wasn’t out this long. I’m going in to get our brother back.”

Take me with you? Alex almost said it, almost begged, as much a violation of trust as it would be to walk Michael’s mind uninvited. But as Max healed his body, as Isobel healed his mind, Alex was helpless to do anything, and he never wore helplessness well. It clawed its way out of him. It destroyed things if he failed to catch it in time.

But he held its leash tight, for now, and gave Isobel an equally tight nod.

“What do you need?”

“Space. No interruptions. It seems like you’ve got enough acetone”—five bottles were still left at the foot of the couch—“so I just need time.”

“You can have the guest bedroom,” Alex agreed.

He and Max carried Michael between them, sharing his weight. Some rearing and needy part of Alex wanted to do the work himself, bundle Michael in his arms and hold him close, but he’d already carried him once today, and Tylenol only went so far. Once he was situated on the bed, Max went to get acetone and water for Isobel.

Weak in the legs, Alex sat beside Michael’s head, never taking his eyes off him. He couldn’t; he wouldn’t. And neither was it a possibility for him to reach out and touch his hair, his forehead, his cheek, so he only watched.

In the door, Isobel cleared her throat. She held both liquids—Max had put them in different-colored cups—and set them on the bedside table before sitting on Michael’s other side.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Alex said, but made no move to go.

After a few seconds, Isobel made a frustrated noise and tossed her hair. “Whatever. You can stay.”

“I—really?”

“It’ll be boring, and if it freaks you out, you can’t interrupt. But yeah.” Alex opened his mouth to respond, but Isobel just held up a hand. “I don’t pretend to understand your weird alien soulmate bullshit. Yours or Max and Liz’s. And I don’t really care what your deal is with Forrest Long, but if you mess my brother around, I’ll end you.”

“I’m not—”

“Again, don’t care. I just know…” she softened. “…I just know how much you mean to Michael. So you can stay.”

Alex swallowed, the lump in his throat too big for him to answer with words, so he nodded, and Isobel nodded back.

“Okay. Starting now.”

Her eyes slipped closed as she lifted Michael’s hand and pressed it between both her own.

The world didn’t change; no power within Alex’s senses rippled between the two of them. Isobel wasn’t wrong to call it boring, as even the uncertain anxiety of what was transpiring in Michael’s head couldn’t keep his attention from wandering. Half an hour in, Max came into the room to stand beside the bed as well, and he clapped a hand on Alex’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, an attempt that reassured neither of them. But it was a brother’s touch, and that meant something.

In that room, throughout that silent ordeal, they were family. Alex was part of that family. It was a feeling he had no room on the shelves for; it fit in none of his boxes. He could barely comprehend it, so it sat in the center of the floor, and for a few hours, everything rearranged itself neatly around the new centerpiece of his world, like it was meant to be there all along.

The night deepened on, pain and exhaustion graying Alex’s vision. Discretion and strategy overtaking his determination, he was close to calling it quits and attempting a few hours of sleep when Isobel surfaced, bone white and nose bleeding as Max scrambled to hand her the acetone.

“Did it—”

Max didn’t even finish the sentence before, with a drowning, sucking gasp, Michael followed her out. Alex shouted, elation, shock, fear, everything, as Michael coughed and coughed until a clot of blood dislodged from his throat, guzzling the water that Alex passed him. His bloodshot eyes met Alex’s over the rim of the glass, confused and shocked, and Alex just nodded, trying to say without words everything that…just everything.

Everything.

On Michael’s other side, Isobel was laughing, breathless and triumphant.

“I’m going to kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you,” she wheezed, throwing herself into Michael’s arms.

Michael’s eyes fell shut as he rested his head against hers. “I know,” he rasped in return, but his lips pulled into a smile anyway. “I know.”

“Michael,” Max said weakly.

And Michael replied, “I know.”

Max rounded the bed to fold the both of them into a hug. Alex might have even joined them, if he wasn’t—he realized only now—shaking too badly to move. But in the midst of all the sensory overload, the misfiring nerves electrifying his helpless flesh, one sensation rang true.

Alex’s hands rested on the bed, stiff and motionless, until one of Michael’s crossed that untouched skin, light at first then more firmly, finger atop finger, knuckle nestled into soft palm, and Michael held his hand and gave it a squeeze, and Alex squeezed him back.

#malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #malex #roswell new mexico #rnm fic #max evans #isobel evans #my fic

28 notes · View notes

wendystales · 3 years

Text

Memories - lrh (Chapter Eighteen)

Memories (also on Wattpad)

Chapter Seventeen ※ ※ ※ ※ ※ Chapter Nineteen

I remember the first time I really wanted to see New York. I must have been about 12 years old and was watching a random episode of Friends that was on TV. I saw those flashes of the city between one scene and another, and I thought it was amazing, the great stone jungle.

When I turned 16, my dad gifted me with a trip to New York, not because it was my favorite place in the world, but because it was on sale. There were 10 days where the only time I stopped to rest was bedtime. We went to almost every tourist spot, took thousands of photos and it was definitely one of the best trips I've ever been on.

Now, the city that I once wanted to know and live in, like the characters in Friends, felt like a prison. I wasn't there of my own free will or for a truly irrefutable proposal. I was there out of fear and passion, the most dangerous mixture.

I believe that at some point, a few months from now, I'm going to start loving New York, but right now, I can only feel contempt.

I pass through the arrivals gate, looking at those millions of unfamiliar faces, waiting for someone. I'm looking for a sign with my name or the logo of the Hastings Agency.

I find my name in the hands of a boy a little taller than me. Dark hair and fair skin, he needs sun. In an impeccable suit, but fumbling with his cell phone and notepad.

I approach slowly, able to hear his voice, replaying a million things. He said something about waiting for me to arrive and taking me to the hotel. Something about treating me kindly and not asking questions. I stop in front of him with a sympathetic smile, watching him widen his eyes and quickly turn off his cell phone.

“Miss McGonagall, welcome to New York.” he takes my hand, squeezing it and shaking it quickly. “I'm Edward. I will be responsible for your schedule.” I can't control the smile, noticing him nervousness. In other words, he was my Noah.

“Hi! Yeah, you can call me Marnie, that's fine. I prefer, actually.”

“Oh! Of course.” his cheeks turn pink. “Well, I'll drop you off at the hotel to rest and tomorrow at 8:00 am you should be at Valentino's studio for the rehearsal of the new bag collection. At 2:45 pm you should already be at Chanel's studio, they want to take your measurements and do some color and fabric tests for the fashion show at the end of the month. Then, at 5:00 pm, you will participate in the E! podcast, and I believe that after that you will be free for the rest of the day.” he passes it on to me as we head out of the airport.

“OK!” that's all I have to say.

“Sorry if I'm being nosy, but were you the one who required a lot of work for the next two months? I mean, you have a really busy schedule. If you don't want something, I can try to help.” he flips through the calendar while we wait for a car.

“No! It's OK. I was the one who asked. I was down for a while and I need to get back to work.” I give a slight smile, debating. "Hm, was the doctor I asked for by any chance be marked?"

“Yes! Wednesday at 3pm.” he smiles proudly, making me smile too. Edward seems like a nice guy.

We got into a silver car and went to the hotel. Along the way, Edward answers a few calls, closing in on his tasks. I seize the moment and close myself in my own world. I get my cell phone, turning it on and seeing that tsunami of people looking for me. Missed calls, messages, dm on twitter and instagram, everyone looking for me, but not him.

I lock my cell phone, trying to focus my mind on the new beginning I sought for myself. I admire the city through the car window, trying to find a piece of home there. I feel the phone vibrate in my lap with Kyleen's name, but I just decline the call. In seconds, the screen lights up again and several messages come in, I believe they are hers, but I don't even bother to look. I have no courage.

The car stops in front of the Intercontinental, and just like that, Edward jumps out of the car.

“Your loft, unfortunately, is not ready yet. So you're going to have to stay here for a few days.” he explains, heading towards the reception desk.

I stand behind him, taking in the details of the hotel. Before long, I'm entering a room on the 14th floor, with a beautiful view of the city. The bags are left in the small room before the bedroom.

I smile at my new “Noah” showing that everything is perfect.

“Good! I'll let you rest for tomorrow. Anything, these are my phones.” he gives me a card. "And you can call me at any time. I live near here, I will come in a few minutes.”

“Thank you so much, Edward. You are very kind." Again, your cheeks turn pink.

As he heads for the door, I start rummaging through my bags for pajamas.

“Hm, sorry if I'm not being professional right now, but since I believe we'll be working together in the next few months, I imagine a good relationship is essential, so you can call me Eddie.”

I open an even bigger smile, seeing that Eddie was willing to make a friendship, which is perhaps the thing I need most at the moment.

“Thanks, Eddie!” he smiles and this time he walks away, leaving me alone again.

I go back to looking for a more comfortable outfit, ignoring my cell phone blinking on the table as I muted it. I grab my clothes, heading to a shower and stay there for a long time, letting the water take everything.

When I get out of the shower, I pick up the bedroom phone, dialing my mother's number, I don't want to take the risk of answering any of my cell phone calls.

"Hello?" her lost tone makes me smile weakly.

“Hi Mom!”

“Hi, my love. How are you? Marnie, what's going on? Leah came here to say you left without saying goodbye. I called Luke, but he did not answer me and Noah said something about you being to move to New York, you told me it would be just a month.” I cover the phone, not wanting her to hear my cry, letting the tears fall. "Marnie?"

“I'm sorry, Mom.” I can't control my voice and pretend it's okay.

“Honey, what's going on? You can tell me. Mom will help you.” I realize she wants to cry too, and that hurts me more.

“I needed to do this, needed to get away from him.” the revelation comes out before I can see it.

"He who? Luke? Why? I thought everything was fine.” her desperate tone returns.

“I'm sorry I can't talk.” I close my throat, holding back tears. “I just want to let you know that I arrived well and that everything is fine.”

“Fine? Marnie, just look at your voice, your condition. I saw what you did to the apartment. Honey, things aren't fine.” now she was angry.

“Mom, please just trust me. I know what I'm doing.” Do I? I clear my throat, holding back the emotion. “I just wanted to call to say I got okay. Later we'll talk.” I hang up the phone before she asks anything else.

I head to the bathroom, drying my hair. I notice that yesterday's anger is still in me as I can't face my image in the mirror, refusing to look deep into my eyes.

With dry hair, I go back to my room, thinking about taking a nap, since I haven't slept all night and even less on the flight. I close my eyes, trying to focus my thoughts on something else. I think about that taxi I saw earlier, trying to park. Or people crossing the street without looking at the sign. At the cookie shop I want to see.

I manage to evade Luke's, my mother's, John's, and Noah's voices, giving myself more and more to the sleep that finally came. Far away, I hear someone knocking hard on the door, but I ignore it, as I had the same thoughts yesterday morning. But I wake up when the pounding comes back stronger and Leah's voice enters the room.

“Marnie Elizabeth McGonagall, open this shit now before I drop it and you know I'm capable of it.” I leap out of bed, running to the door.

She can’t be here.

I open the door, revealing Leah with perhaps the worst expression I've ever seen in the world. She was furious, if not more so. As she storms into my room without waiting for an invitation, I quickly look down the hall, seeing a couple look at me startled. I smile awkwardly, closing the door.

“What are you doing here?” I question, still not understanding.

"What are you doing here? And without warning anyone. Fading in the morning. Breaking up with Luke. What the fuck was that?” she screams.

For a second, I see that my amnesia was an issue with my plan. By not remembering my friendship with everyone, I really believed that I just left and everything would be fine. I didn't imagine anyone would cross the country for me, to understand what was going on.

And if Leah did it, it's a matter of hours before someone else does. They weren't going to leave me alone, they weren't going to forget me, and they weren't going to let this story pass. I need to push them away, but I don't know how.

"Go on, Marnie. What the fuck is going on? And if you tell me it's a job offer, I swear I'll fly at you without pity or mercy, and I'll slap the truth out.” she cross her arms.

I consider the last option a lot because I know she can do it. But I won't tell her the truth, that's not an alternative. I want to believe that if I don't back off, she'll see I'm not lying and won't attack me. And even if she tries, I just run away, I'm closer to the door and there's an armchair between us.

"But it is what it is!" I shrug.

“Stop it!” she screams. “Stop lying, Marnie. Everyone. Everyone knows you're lying, so why don't you tell the truth?” she waves her hands through the air.

“Because there's no other truth, Leah. Will I have to draw it for you?” I make the same moves she does.

“Be my guest!” she sits on the couch. I sigh wearily. I haven't slept for hours, I'm angry with myself and the world and now that I thought the situation was resolved and I just had to go on with my life, she comes and messes everything up.

“Why are you here?” I stay upright.

“I do not know! It must be cause you went crazy and disappeared without saying anything. Didn't answer my calls, no one had any answers about what was going on. So I took my father's jet and came to resolve this situation and I don't leave here without an answer at least.”

In the same way I laugh at Noah, I laugh at her, thinking it will fix everything. Leah carries the same expression as her brother, neutral, mocking.

“Why did you break up with Luke?” she asks quietly.

The mention of his name makes me shiver. I notice how my stomach turns and try to ignore it. I wonder if I can subtly extract some information from his state, but I don't want her to think I still care about him.

"Cause I wasn't in the mood anymore." I shrug, walking through space.

“My God, you've actually lied better.” I glare at her. “You know you're in trouble here, I know you better than anyone. I know you are lying and that you are going through some difficult situation. I even have my theories. So you're going to have to work a lot harder to trick me or get me out of here.” she cracks a smile, feeling victorious.

"Oh do you have? What are your theories?” I mock her.

“The first is that you really freaked out with amnesia and you can't handle it. The second is that you can't handle your feelings about Luke, it happened once before. And the third is that someone put some shit in your head and made you believe that everything would be better if you were out of the way.” I feel her gaze burning into me, looking for any reaction.

I let out a laugh, not forced, nervous that she got it right. Leah raises an eyebrow.

“You really traveled on your theories. Sorry, none are right.”

As if by magic, the answer appears to me. The only way I was going to get rid of everyone and go through with the plan without a hitch was to make her hate me. Make everyone hate me, just like I did Luke.

Just considering their hate for me makes my heart ache. But I need to do this. For Luke. For the boys. It's for their success.

“You know, a few months ago you were asked to be in a movie and you didn't take it cause you said you were a terrible actress. Isn't that right?” she gets up again. “Noah told me you said you were doing this for Luke, because you loved him. Marnie, what are you trying to hide?” she comes closer.

I feel dirty because of the attitude I'm going to take. It's low, very low, but I need her to hate me.

"Look who talks about hiding." I give a cynical laugh. Leah looks at me confused. "Don't you have anything to tell too?" she still doesn't understand. “You and Kyleen?”

Hastings freezes. The bitter taste of my act starts to fill my mouth. I’m sorry, Leah. I’m so sorry.

“How do you know?” she takes a step back.

"Who do you think closed the bathroom door on Ash's birthday?" I raise my eyebrows.

“Is not the same thing.”

“It isn’t? Aren't you hiding something from all of us?” I force a smile like hers a few minutes ago.

“No! Cause I'm not pushing everyone away, I'm not telling lies. And if you asked me, I would tell you the truth. Deep down, you know why I didn't say anything. You know my dad hasn't accepted Noah yet, that this is a problem in our family, and you know he wouldn't accept me either. You know that deep down I'm trying to protect both of us.”

“Oh! Do I?” I debauchery more. Right now, I feel horrible when I see your eyes water. I'm so, so sorry.

“I know what you're trying to do and I'm not going to stage it.” she walks past me to the door.

"Didn't you want to talk? I am talking.” Leah turns to me, straining the knife I carried in my chest, letting me see her crying face.

“You're trying to make me hate you.” now I'm the one who freezes. She laughs. “See how I know you? You are very predictable, Marnie. And as much as I know of your intention, I will not allow you to reach your goal. I hope that one day, not too far away, you realize what a big shit you're doing.” she opens the door, going. “Oh, and before I forget, since it's meant to hurt. Congrats, since your little chat with Luke, he's been locked in his room, needing Michael to keep an eye on him.” so Leah slams the door and strikes the final blow.

I bite the inside of my mouth, letting the tears fall. Honestly, I didn't even have the strength to hold back anymore. The rage burning inside me gives way to pain. I imagine Luke locked in his room, lying on the bed, hating me. Hating what we had and what we thought we had.

I walk over to my suitcase, pulling out a package, with the photos I'd taken from the box and the little white box he'd given me. I open it, holding the necklace with his name on it, the one he gave me.

Even knowing what I had to do, I wouldn't get rid of this necklace, I don't have the courage. It was easier to buy an equal one and put it in his hand. What he did to me would be kept with me forever.

““Closed eyes.” he fights.

"I have my eyes closed." I rebate. “Lucas…” I chide him, when I feel his lips on the back of my neck.

“Sorry, I got distracted.” I hold back the urge to laugh. “Closed eyes.”

"If you say it one more time, you'll get hit." I threat.

"How, if you can't see me?" right now, the urge to hit him is so strong that I follow the sound of his voice, trying to kick him. “Hey! No rudeness, otherwise you'll be left without a gift.” the false authoritative tone makes me angrier. “Good girl!”

“Go!” I kicked.

I'm startled by the icy touch against my neck. It's a necklace. Eagerly, I touch the pendant, recognizing the shape. He didn't do it.

“You can open it.” his hands move to my hips, hugging me.

With my eyes open, I run my vision to my neck, finding there a necklace just like his but blue.

“Happy Birthday!” he drops a kiss on my cheek.

I hold the blue quartz, seeing Luke's name engraved on the back. I let a stupid smile spread across my face, glaring at my boyfriend with the same.

"Want to explain why we're wearing practically identical necklaces?"

“It's a little obvious. Couples wear rings and I know what a problem you have with rings.”

“It’s not a problem.” I try to defend myself.

“It's just Alzheimer's. You know, in some people, it starts before they're 70 years old.” I hit him, and he laughs, before he hugs me. "Like I was saying, I know you're not into wearing a ring, so since I already had my necklace, I thought you'd have yours. That way we'll always be close to each other's hearts.” I rest my hands on his shoulders, standing on tiptoes.

"Have I told you I love you today?" I whisper, moving closer.

“Not after 5 pm.” he pouted, looking at the clock on the wall.

I don't know how I managed to kiss him with such a stupid smile on my face.

“Why do I like you, huh?” I question, stealing a little kiss.

“Because I'm cheesy and romantic. And even if you deny it, I know you get attached to it.” he opens a victorious smile.

"Don't ever say 'get attached' again." I beg laughing.

"What is it, bae? That was awesome.” he laughs.

“No!” I scream, laughing.

"What is it, babe girl? Don't you stick to my way of get in?” he keeps teasing me.

I place my lips on yours, determined to shut your mouth and thank you that it works. My mental reminder of “we're late for dinner” evaporates when his hands reach under my shirt. I scratch the back of his neck, pulling him closer.

“We're late for dinner.” he says against my mouth as I start to unbutton his shirt.

“Just say the traffic was like hell.” I suggest kissing his neck.

Luke accepts the idea, picking me up and walking me back to the bedroom."

It's not hard to know that we were late for dinner that day. But I didn't care, I had been given a necklace with his name on it, a necklace that showed how our relationship was getting more and more serious.

I also realize that the two times I got this necklace, at least once I ended up in bed with him. In fact, in both, but only one made it to the end.

“I hate myself.” I say tiredly, going to the minibar to get anything containing alcohol that makes me forget everything.

I call the front desk for two bottles of champagne and the biggest snack they have. I pick up the small whiskey bottles, turning one after the other, as if they were shot. I shake my head, wanting the effect to start faster.

“I hate myself. Leah hates me. Kiki must hate me now too. Just like Noah and everyone else there. Everybody hates me.” I turn the last one over, shaking my head once more. “Luke hates me. Hates me too much.” I comment, hugging the pillow.

I pick up a Polaroid of ours, staring at our happiness marked there. What am I doing?

I throw my head in my hands, lost. I wonder what might happen if I crawl into bed and don't go out for the rest of the month. Probably more people will hate me, but who doesn't hate me now? I mean, just get in line.

Awakened from the thought, when someone knocks on the door. For a second, I wonder who it was, then remember I ordered room service. I walk to the door, feeling the weight of the six small bottles.

My stomach churns and I feel an overwhelming urge to vomit as I land my eyes on the redhead in front of me. Red-haired?

"Bethany?"

17 notes · View notes

impalaimagining · 4 years

Text

On The Edge

Dean Winchester x Reader

1,726 words

Warnings: smut, 18+ only

Beta: @torn-and-frayed

Written for @spnkinkbingo filling the square “edging”

SPN Kink Bingo 2020 Masterlist - Masterlist

“This is insane, Dean.” You leaned back in your makeshift office chair - a library chair with two pillows, one stuffed under your backside and the other stuffed behind your lower back. “Another month?”

“Yeah, another month. They’re working on containing things, and since some people can’t listen, it’s taking longer than anyone wanted it to take. We’re stuck cooped up.” Dean offered you a feeble smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

You sighed. “It’s not your fault. It’s just a pain in my ass.” You reached down, rubbing your glute. “Literally.” You stood up and stretched your hamstrings, suddenly missing the luxury of the standing desk your office implemented for every employee.

“We can get you a new chair.” He offered, but you shook your head. “Seriously. We have all these rooms. We’ll set one up as an office for you. You can’t work from the war table for another month.”

“You and Sam do it.” You shrugged. “I got it.”

Dean scoffed. “Sam and I also grew up sleeping on mattresses made out of rocks.”

“Not wrong.” Sam chimed in as he entered the room. “But why are we discussing our less-than-luxurious childhood?”

“She needs an office. With everything that’s going on, she’s gonna be working from home for the foreseeable future.”

“Right.” Sam offered you a sad smile. “We’ll go shopping.”

“Online.” You raised your brows. “Social distancing.”

“Right.” Sam repeated with a slight roll of his eyes. It’d been a long time since he and Dean had been cooped up in the bunker for more than a few days. He opened his laptop and pulled up the IKEA website, spinning the screen so you could see it. “Pick one.”

It didn’t take long for you to pick one with full back support, a slight curve where your lower back would fall. You let out a groan when your eyes fell on it as you scrolled through the page. “That looks so comfortable.”

Dean chuckled. “It’s just a chair.”

“No, Dean. It’s so much more than a chair at this point.” You stood up and stretched your arms above your head, your back snapping as your spinal discs popped back into place.

Sam flinched at the sounds emanating from your spine. “How often do you have to do that?”

“Too often.” You offered Sam a tight smile. “Sometimes - depending on the day - I swear it’s better than sex.” You smirked.

“Hey.” Dean raised his brows and pointed at you with his index finger while the rest of his digits wrapped around his coffee mug. “Watch yourself.”

You giggled and shook your head, rolling your eyes fondly as another meeting reminder chimed on your desktop calendar. With a groan, you resumed your place in front of your computer and entered the meeting call.

“Son of a bitch.” You held your mug between your palms and closed your eyes, inhaling the scent of the coffee in an attempt to wake yourself up.

“You okay?” Dean sat opposite you, his own coffee cup on the table in front of him.

Shaking your head, you leaned your forehead into your palm. “I am so sick of these meetings, Dean. I’m exhausted, I’m barely sleeping at night because this quarantine has my schedule fucked six ways from Sunday. I’m just… over it.”

Dean stood up, taking a quick sip of his coffee before setting it back down again. He walked behind you, his hands moving over your shoulders as his fingers dug into the muscle there. “When’s your next meeting?” He squeezed the balls of your shoulders.

Like clockwork, your computer sounded again, reminding you of another meeting in fifteen minutes. You huffed and pointed to the screen, hanging your head. “Fifteen.”

“Last one for the day?” Dean asked, and you nodded. He bent down and kissed your cheek. “It’ll be okay.” Dean gave your shoulders one last gentle grip before walking himself back to his seat on the far side of your computer screen. Your fingers tapped out a few more emails, keeping customers updated and giving your coworkers the information they needed to stay on track for the week. As your computer dinged when someone began the meeting, Dean’s eyes watched you over the rim of his whiskey glass. You painted on a smile and greeted the meeting’s other participants.

Dean licked his lip as he watched you tuck your hair behind your ear. He ran the tip of his tongue over his top teeth as your eyes wandered around your screen, scanning your co-workers’ faces. Your boss, Joe, started sharing a spreadsheet and rambling about the numbers within it. Dean pushed his chair back slightly and disappeared underneath it, unbeknownst to you. You looked up from your computer screen and noticed the empty chair across from you. The slight furrow of your brows turned into a look of surprise when Dean’s index finger ran over the cotton of your underwear directly covering your core.

You flailed, slamming your finger down on the mouse to mute your microphone. “Son of a bitch, Dean!” You murmured, careful not to move your mouth too much while you spoke for fear that your coworkers would see you talking. “What are you doing?”

Dean pressed a kiss to your inner thigh before scraping his teeth along the soft skin. “Focus on your work.” He commanded gently; you were always so quick to obey him. You closed your eyes and attempted to steady yourself with a breath.

From under the table, Dean faintly heard the sounds of your meeting through the wood. He pushed them from his mind along with everything other than his intentions. He ran his index finger along your core again, waiting until he felt the dampness of your excitement through the material. The pad of his finger traced the outline of your clit, then down to your entrance, prodding into you softly. His lips danced over the crease between your right thigh and your pussy, leaving whispers of kisses on your skin. When Dean pulled his hand away, he caught a glimpse of the small wet spot on the fabric of your peach-colored underwear.

Dean’s finger dipped into the elastic along the side of your underwear, moving the fabric to the side. He retraced the path of his finger, this time against your bare skin. The pad of his finger circled your clit, and when he reached your entrance, he twisted his wrist and flipped his hand, pressing his finger into you to his first knuckle.

A whimper threatened to escape your lips, but you caught it in your throat and swallowed it down as you clenched your jaw. Your fingers dug into the edge of the table, skin turning white as you worked to calm yourself down. Dean pushed his longest digit further into you, curling it and rubbing gently against your g-spot. He flicked his tongue out and wriggled the pointed tip on the underside of your clit.

Your entire body jumped, muscles in your thighs and backside tensing at the feeling of his tongue on you. Carefully, you pushed your fingers into his hair and pulled. Dean smiled against your skin and flattened his tongue against you. He rolled the muscle of his tongue, applying pressure directly onto your clit as he pumped his finger in and out of you. Dean sealed his lips around your clit, pressing just the tip of his tongue onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your hips jerked forward as you pulled your lips into a thin line. When you parted them just slightly, a shaky breath poured from your mouth and you closed your eyes. Your hand trembled over your mouse, finger hovering over the button. Quickly, you tapped your finger down and muted your microphone long enough to let out a quiet moan.

“I fucking hate you.” You mumbled, not letting your lips move around the words.

Dean smiled again before his onslaught continued, his finger rocking back and forth into you and his tongue laving over your overstimulated skin. You ran your hand down your face as you faintly heard the sound of someone trying to get your attention through your computer speakers to ask how things were with your to-do list.

You ground your teeth together and composed yourself, sucking in a stabilizing breath. “All good here.” Your voice trembled, so you forced a smile and clicked the mute button again, making sure none of your tiny moans made their way into your microphone.

Your thighs shook, your hips swirled, and you writhed in your seat under Dean’s ministrations. He felt the pulse of your walls around his thick fingers, You were about to crumble, to dive right over the edge and fall apart for Dean. With one last gentle kiss to your clit, Dean withdrew his finger from you and pulled his face away from your core. The mewl that left your lips had you beyond thankful that no one could hear anything from your end of the call. Dean continued to tease you, to hold you right at the threshold of your orgasm, pressing featherlight kisses to the heated skin of your thighs.

As your meeting ended and your colleagues said their goodbyes, you hung up and checked your calendar frantically; the rest of your day was clear. Exhaling through your nose and dropping your tongue out onto your lower lip, you eyed Dean as he stood up on the other side of the table and wiped his chin on the back of his hand with a smirk plastered on his face.

He turned and caught your stare. “You gonna get back to work?” The glint in his eye only added to the throb in your clit. You pushed your chair back, the legs screeching across the floor before you walked to Dean. You shoved your hand against his chest until he was sitting on the edge of the table. Swinging your legs over his thighs, you reached down and freed his cock from the confines of his pajama pants. Holding the base of his shaft, you eased yourself down onto it, bringing your hands up to grip onto his shoulders. You rocked your hips forward, dragging his cock along your walls. “What abou-”

You cut him off and molded your lips with his, riding Dean as his hands held your hips. Work would have to wait.

gif: x

Have something to say? Questions? Comments?

Like what you see? Want to support my writing?

Early Access On Patreon

Forever Tags: @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @beththedemonhunter @blacktithe7 @caswinchester2000 @countrygal17a @danathewitchywoman @deansgirl7695 @deanwanddamons @elizzysnow13 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @esoltis280 @essie1876 @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @heartsaved @hillface89 @holyfuckloueh @hunterpuff @in-deans-arms @ladylachesis @lilredniki @linki-locks11 @mottergirl99 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @notyourtypicalrose @plaid-lover-bay25 @riversong-sam @sandlee44 @sea040561 @shaelyn102 @smoothdogsgirl @soulmates8 @speakinvain @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnbaby-67 @supernatural3002 @superromijn @tumblr-tidbits @vicmc624 @voltage-my2dlove @wayward-gypsy

Dean Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @ashki8278 @cherrycokegirls1 @clarewinchester @dean-winchesters-bacon @deanandsamsbitch @deansgirl215 @fandom-princess-forevermore @iamabeautifulperson18 @lessons-of-red @mereka18 @princessofthefandomrealm @shamelesslydean @torn-and-frayed @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

#Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester x you #Dean x Reader #Dean x you #Dean Winchester #imagine Dean Winchester #reader insert #Supernatural x Reader #Supernatural x you #SPN x Reader #SPN x you #Imagine Supernatural #Imagine SPN #SPN fanfiction #SPN fanfic #Supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic

209 notes · View notes

nautiscarader · 3 years

Text

Year of the cow, or how I stopped worrying and loved the meme (BBRae)

Beast Boy's and Raven's relationship is truly one of the most subtle and emotional ones I have seen. There are lots of fantastically written fics which dive deep into characterisation and their nuanced, complicated emotions, showing complex colours of the spectrum of love.

Unfortunately, you have made a mistake clicking on one of my fics.

This is a birthday present for my buddy, ZekkKiray, and it revolves around a meme which I really found irritating... And I wondered how other characters might have reacted to it. Happy birthday, man!

yes, still half hour till midnight in my time zone, made it.

BBRae, 4k, E, (Ao3)

==========

As the Sun slowly hid on the horizon, Jump City, just like every city and town in the world, was slowly preparing for a glorious celebration. People were ready to welcome the new year with dances, parties and optimism encouraged by copious amounts of alcohol.

But not everyone was interested in partying and throwing caution to the wind. Five superheroes traversed the town's rooftops, watching over many celebrations, and ideal breeding grounds for crime, big or small.

Robin, Starfire, Cyborg, Raven and Beast Boy set out to patrol the city, to ensure that this momentous occasion won't be disturbed by any wrong-doer...

And quite quickly decided to join the party. Well, some of them. Robin sighed when he realised that his team has disbanded to join the crowd of onlookers, cheering and applauding the band on the colorful stage, that would soon be replaced by another group, hired just to play one or two hits for some quick cash.

Raven stayed to the side as well, keeping her eye not only at her friends, but the crowd, though her attention was suddenly caught by the dancers on the stage. Three women, dressed in black-and-white horned costumes, performing a synchronised dance, much to the delight of the audience.

- Er, and what exactly is that? Some sort of fad...?

- Oh, no, friend Raven! - Starfire was eager to explain - Robin has told me it's a Chinese calendar! And the Chinese have chosen an animal to represents each year, and...

- Oh, yeah, right. - Raven interrupted her - And lemme guess, this year's a cow?

- Ox, technically. - Robin chimed in - And it's not even started yet, it's based on a lunar one, so it will be somewhere in February.

Raven looked at the women in their silly costumes, dancing and playfully jiggling their fake udders and cow-bells to the beat of the music.

- Meh, whatever, it's gonna be over soon. Oh, by the way, this guys was pickpocketing. - Raven spoke nonchalantly, her shadow coiling around a burly man's throat.

By January fourth, however, Raven was seeing cows everywhere. Television, billboards, the internet... especially the internet. She felt as if it was a single-themed Halloween party that somehow stretched to a week.

And the boys weren't helping. While Robin remained reasonably level-headed, Cyborg and Beast Boy were having times of their lives, enjoying every single appearance of the costumes in real life, or in any media.

The worst thing was, Raven wasn't even sure why the fad irritated her so much. There were much more asinine things out there. But something about that fad was driving her nuts.

At the very least, there was Starfire, who sometimes was able to understand her.... or so Raven thought until she returned one day from the market with plastic cow-horns on her head a bell around her neck.

Raven groaned at the sight of his friend and stormed out of the common room, pushing away few streamers, still lingering after the new year's party.

She closed door to her room behind her and embraced the darkness and silence that allowed her to meditate and focus her powers...

And then she heard the faint jingling of the cowbells from behind the wall.

The purple flames on the candles around her shot up to the ceiling, as Raven tried to control her irritation.

She barked and grabbed her mirror, disappearing into her private void that extinguished the flames she ignited.

Raven walked down the floating rocks that paved her dimension, encased in darkness, illuminated by just few stars and distant galaxies. The ravens flew away in fear, as she glided forward, hoping to find some peace and quiet here...

- Hiya!

But of course, in this realm, she was never truly alone.

A woman dressed in pink jumped from behind a nearby rock, causing Raven to cease her movement just for a while, before she promptly decided to ignore her own emoticlone.

- Oh come on, you haven't been here for ages! - the jovial embodiment of happiness continued - We've been having SO much fun here!

- Great. Leave me alone.

But before she could react, Pink grabbed her and steered her off-path, flying down a different route, loudly announcing their presence.

- Hey guys. looks who's here! - she shouted, waving the arm she wasn't using to maneuver Raven between rocks.

- Oh, great, our big sister... - the Orange mumbled from behind a couch-shaped rock

- Have-have we done something wrong? - the timid Graphite pulled over her cloak

- Judging from your prolonged absence, something extraordinary must have happened. - Yellow interjected, eyeing Raven with curious stare.

Raven let out another groan.

- It's nothing. Leave me-

- Oh, is it about you-know-who?

Violet's sly and suggestive voice prompted Raven to pause mid-turn. her eye twitched.

- Ooh, very brave of you to tackle the most common problem of your visits! - Green added at once. - He can be annoying...

- I've said...

A blast of energy erupted around her, as Raven turned away, but couldn't finish her sentence. There was one emotion left, and she knew very well what can summon her, and it was already too late.

- Come on, say it.

Red spoke, gleaming with a subtle, yet unmistakeable triumph in her voice.

- I'm done with you. - Raven answered and continued her walk, before being predictably stopped again

- Oh sure, is this why you have almost brought me back? - she sneered - And for such petty reason...

- Ooh, tell us, tell us! - Pink chimed in, before being brought aside by Yellow

- Let me do it...

Red spoke and spread her arms, giving the other emoticlones chance to glimpse into what little she have seen.

- That... that is quite an insignificant reason to bring back *her* - Yellow judged - Are you sure it's adequate?

- I'm just afraid this will backfire... - Graphite meeped from behind her

- But I was right - Violet added - It is about him...

- ENOUGH!

Raven burst with energy, silencing her living emotions.

- We just want you to say it, so we can... help you.

The Red emoticlone stood in her way, finally making her stop. Her presence cast a shadow of fear on the lesser creatures of this realm, and even some other emoticlones that dared not to approach her. Red's voice was strangely polite, though Raven knew she must have an ulterior motive behind it.

- And you know what the answer to your problem is.

Anger reached her arm and waited for Raven's response. She couldn't meet her eyes. She was right, of course, but at the same time, embracing the violent and unpredictable part of her nature, reminding her of her father's legacy filled her with disgust...

- But you will not be alone with it. - Violet suddenly joined.

- And while it may look odd, this might be an opportunity to broaden your horizons. - Yellow continued.

- And let's face it, you've done weirder things, but you never cowered away! - Green shouted.

- Besides, it's gonna be so much fun! - Pink smiled.

Raven lifted her hood and looked at the other emoticlones, all awaiting her decision.

Knowing she's delaying the inevitable, with a heavy sigh, Raven made her decision.

===============

Garfield knew better not to interrupt Raven. He has made that mistake a few times in his life, and he still had his life only because Raven was his friend.

Still, seeing her angry was painful, thought not as much as the silent treatment he was getting from her. Beast Boy hesitated for a moment, and just before he was about to knock on her doors, he stopped himself.

With a sigh, he turned around and returned to his room, finding someone already inside.

At first, Garfield thought he was dreaming. But after a few blinks, he realised that the marvellous, dreamy sight in front of his eyes was real, and it made his heart skip a beat.

Raven's trademark, dark-blue attire was gone, replaced by a white costume dotted with black-and-brown spots. Her long legs were covered in fishnets with the same pattern, and as his eyes travelled up, he realised what was exerting the gravitational force that was pulling him that way...

The skin-tight costume had changed his perception, perhaps, but even then, Raven' nipples were just a fraction of an inch away from slipping, as her breast were simply too big to stay hidden in any article of clothing.

And when he looked at her horned head again, he noticed a faint smile on her face, contrasting so much with her demeanour over the past few days. She shifted her legs, spreading them slightly, giving him just a small tease of what was to come, and with her eyes fixated at him, she spoke.

- Moo, I guess.

- Oh, momma!

And before she knew it, Beast Boy leapt onto her with the grace and agility of a frog, diving between her enlarged breasts, and feeling the delicate, cushioning texture engulf his head almost entirely. And at the same time, with his fingers digging into the material, he freed Raven's breasts, hungrily kissing each square inch of her body as if his life depended on it.

- Gar... - Raven moans, feeling her boyfriend wriggling against her bosom

- I see someone has changed her mind...

- You can say that... - Raven replied, hiding the moan that was about to escape her lips.

- I guess you took Starfire's approach and visited the market? - Beast Boy joked, between his kisses - Or, wait, no, you ordered it online so no one will know, right?

- Let's just say I didn't have to order it...

For a moment, Beast Boy pondered the meaning of her words, until he realised that he has seen her outfit once before. Well, without the black-and-brown blots. And as the realisation dawned on him, he let out a gasp, as Raven's eyes glowed white.

Only one of the spots was brown. There was a pink, yellow, green one...

Her most powerful form, the combination of all of her emotions sat on his bed, emanating raw magical, warm energy that could easily vaporise him if she wanted to. Beast Boy suspected the horns weren't plastic either, and that he has just made a few snarky jokes to a demonic sorceress orders of magnitude more powerful than him.

And yet, she was still smiling.

- I just... - Raven swallowed - Couldn't stand you ogling all those cartoon anime girls on-line, in their stupid cow costumes. So I had to fight fire with fire.

- Aww... - Beast Boy cooed - Is my Raven jealous?

- YES. - the demon spoke in deep, rumbling voice that shook some of the objects on the shelves.

The spots on her White costumes suddenly glowed with ominous, red aura, as blood in Garfield's veins froze.

Her face was inches away from his, and only when she felt his hastened breath, she calmed down, and her spots returned to their original colours, just as the red aura disappeared from her eyes. She reached her hands and cupped his face, glad that he did not back away, as her anger overtook her. Their lips met, and Raven poured her apologies into him in a long, delicate kiss.

- And you will have to pay for it. - she smiled, giving Garfield clear sign she was everything under control, including him.

- Rae... - Garfield whined - You-you know I'd never... they... they don't mean anything...

- Then prove it.

Raven used the moment of hesitation to engulf him and with one sharp move of her hands and her magic, she ripped his clothes to shreds and brought her lover closer to her. With his shorts gone, Raven's eyes fixated on his cock, and had to restrain herself from licking her lips, as its head came closer and closer to her face. But of course neither of them would settle on just a blowjob, given the magic Raven cast upon herself.

Beast Boy jumped onto her breasts again, peppering them with plethora of hungry, ravenous kisses. Knowing already her bosom by heart, he know had a whole new territory to explore, and he did that with impeccable dedication. But as his lips closed around her nipple, he received a taste of something unexpected. His eyes widened, and met hers, as sweet substance made contact with his tongue. The sly smile on her lips remained, but as Beast Boy began lapping her milk, her face was torn with a new grimace he hasn't seen yet, and Raven was more than eager to experience.

Garfield moved from one nipple to the other, wishing he could transform into some creature with two heads. As Raven squirmed and moaned underneath him, he wondered what will happen soon, and with his hand manoeuvring between her thighs, he was determined to discovered that.

Her back arched, as his fingers reached her wet spot and slipped underneath her costume, just as his tongue coiled around her nipple again. Though she was trying to contain her emotions, the spots on her costume glowed in violet with each kiss and delicate move of his fingers against or inside her sex, and soon, Raven was thrashing underneath him, ready to burst.

And when she did, it was not with energy, but with milk that filled Beast Boy's mouth, in an act that surprised both of them.

Raven quaked for a few more minutes, coating his fingers with her juices he now lapped as eagerly as the new one she produced for him. Beast Boy made sure to wait until she was looking at him when he licked his lips, tasting both.

- Come'ere, I'm thirsty too... - she huffed, and settled herself amongst the pillows, ready to invite him.

Beast Boy let out a dreamy sigh, as his cock slid between her breasts, engulfing him completely with the delicate, heavenly texture only her breasts could provide. And when Raven gently pushed her mounds together, she added the missing part of friction, making Beast Boy throw his head back, even though he hasn't moved an inch.

But as he looked down at his girlfriend, he met her unusually frisky eyes, and with that, he flexed his muscles. Next thing she knew, his hands were on her horns, and he pushed his hips forward, diving deep into her bosom.

His action was a bit sudden and Raven's eyes opened wide when she realised that her head was pulled forward and that his twitching tip was now a fraction of an inch from her lips. And as she was about to open them, he pulled back and began his thrusts, mewling and moaning with each one, as pleasure slowly engulfed him.

He was in trance, brought by the alluring sight of his girlfriend and her magically enlarged bosom and thge reward they were leaking. And as Raven promised, she wanted one of her own: now, with every rapid thrust, her tongue lapped a drop or two of his pre-cum, in turn only generating more samples of what was to come. Raven was pretty sure what was his plan, but she opened her lips wide anyway, hoping to catch at least some of his oncoming climax.

- Rae...Rae... I LOVE YOU!

And with that proclamation, beast Boy dived balls-deep between her magically enlarged breasts, letting her warmth and size cover them as well, which only strengthened his orgasm. Raven yelped when the first stream of his seed flooded her mouth, and closed her mouth just in time to suck a bit more, even though she knew what was the sight he wanted to see.

As he pulled back, his cock was still twitching, spurting more and more of his virility in the valley between her mounds, until it slowly started to spill down, glazing her breasts with the sticky proof of his devotion.

And just as he thought he has seen it all, Raven dragged her finger across her breasts, hoping to catch as much of his cum as possible before it all drips to the bed. she parted her fingers to show the sticky strands between them before she closed her lips around them and made him collapse to his back from the simple act of tasting him.

- That was fun - she spoke, as most of his seed made it to her lips. - But you know what every cow needs, right?

Raven asked, lapping the last bit of cum from her tits. She leaned forward and with the same low, salacious tone as before, whispered the words that Beast Boy already had on his mind.

- Her bull...

His green body grew in a split of second, transforming him, but not in the form of the animal Raven expected. While his head became elongated and grew bovine horns, his torso and arms remained human, though much more muscular, and only the addition of hooves on his legs and a tail truly made her realise what he was now: a minotaur.

But of course, hooves and tail was not what piqued Raven's interest the most, as her eyes looked down at the figure towering over her.

This time, she could not stop herself and her lust; Raven licked a small droplet of drool that formed on her lips, and reached her hand to experience the enormous, throbbing organ whose glistening head was now once more inches away from her lips.

But her lover didn't want another blowjob. As steam-like cloud escaped his nostrils, Beast Boy grabbed her and effortlessly slammed her onto his cock, watching as the sorceress lets out a silent moan.

When he went down on her, Raven tried to maintain at least some dignity. But now, as her sex was filled completely with his monstrous cock, she threw all of the pretence away and babbled her lover's name, while the blots on her costume pulse violet each time his cock reached her depths, time after time, depraving her of common sense, as bliss slowly overtook her mind.

But not until she has managed to speak one last wish.

- D-Do what you are supposed to!

Raven screamed, her voice vibrating with the erratic thrusts her entire body was subjected to.

- Mate me! Breed me!

Another roar escaped his mouth, and Raven took a gasp of air just in time to expel it, as Beast Boy shoved himself deeper inside her throbbing pussy that before, firmly positioning himself as far as possible, right against her core, he now bathed in first deluge of his seed. And with his thick, monster cock forming an air-tight seal, not a drop of his virility could leak out, and was forced up into her womb. What would have been impossible for any other man became a child's play for him, letting Raven experience the impossible.

And with the flood of his warm seed filling her, came her orgasm, making Raven thrash around his cock, as if she was a puppet on his mercy. With each wave that flooded and promptly overflowed her sex, came a new sensation of being filled and claimed, and in turn, each simultaneously extinguished fire in her loins, and set it anew...

At some point, Raven fell back to the bed, feeling her pussy pulse with each after-wave of her climax, while Beast Boy's seed oozed onto the bed. She wasn't sure how long her after-glow lasted, but she knew what brought her back to her senses.

Her breasts were kissed again, with the same tender and care the minotaur would never learn. Beast Boy was his regular self, taking care of her body his monstrous form has neglected, listening to her breath slowly becoming less and less erratic.

She looked up and their eyes met, while Garfield locked his lips around her nipple again, drinking her orgasm.

- Hey.

- Hey. - she replied - I guess people were right, those cow costumes do work.

- Rae, you could dress like a platypus and you'd be sexy.

Raven smiled, and her hand reached to her lover's cheek, prompting him to leave her nipple.

Their lips met again, and though she thought she would be tired by now, she welcomed him again, especially as his hands now roamed her thighs and ass.

She let out another moan, seemingly far louder than a moment before, but maybe it was because her voice wasn't drowned by the beast's low grunts, but Garfield's borderline cute huffs.

And even though he was now much shorter and thinner than before, somehow Raven felt fuller than when a giant minotaur ravaged her. Maybe it was his kisses, dotting her breasts and lapping her milky fluid, maybe it was his delicate, but steady grip of his hands on her thighs... or maybe it was the unspoken promise they mentioned...

As they kept coming closer, the empath suddenly grabbed his cheeks and pulled him against her, not to kiss, but to find emotions raging in his mind. And she found them - those of love, protection, dedication and responsibility, which easily pushed her to the edge...

She cried out his name just as he flooded her again, this time with his essence, and even though Raven knew it was impossible, she somehow felt the difference in warmth that filled her sex.

As the two breathed in the same air, Raven gently moved her hand between her body, feeling the warmth of his body above her, and his cock and seed inside. She could undo the spell right now, and change their lives forever... And she had to admit, it would be a very apt moment... but then again, she would rob them of many, many heated moments like these.

It's a good thing she buddied up with Yellow as much as with Violet for this ride.

The two lay ion each other's arms for quite some time, savouring each other's scents and warmth, until Raven found strength and motivation to speak.

- So, got any more silly internet memes trending?

Beast Boy smiled and reached for his phone.

=============

Winter this year was snow-less, rainy and mild, like for the past half a decade or so. But that only made the New Year's eve less cumbersome, as it meant less time traversing through mounds of snow. Plus, it meant the Titans' Tower rooftop wasn't off limits.

- I thought this place, at this time would be the worst to meditate. - Beast Boy spoke - The whole sky's gonna be on fire in five minutes.

- Yeah, but maybe I wanted to watch.

He sat next to her, listening to far-away sounds of concerts and premature celebration. He scooted a few inches closer to her, and let out a short meep when her cape covered him.

- I wonder what this year will bring us. - he spoke, ruining the quiet, charming moment.

- I do - Raven answered quickly. - This year is gonna be of the tiger.

Raven spoke and undid a button of her cape that joined the two, freeing her breasts. Beast Boy swallowed loudly, seeing the moonlight shining onto her skin, and making her bosom look bigger with no additional magic required.

- Why don't we practice, kitty?

And with that, the night's air was filled with a powerful roar of a predator cat that has just found its very willing prey.

#bbrae #lemon #aged-up characters and all that #nautiscaraderfics

18 notes · View notes

thebestworstidea · 3 years

Text

Animal Skin

@dukeceitweek day 5 Intrusive Thoughts/Lying

pairings: Janus/ Remus, Roman/Virgil

Warnings: vampires, shapeshifters, blood, lying, sexy thoughts, unbeta’d

----

The first time Janus saw him, he thought he looked perfect.

It was a strange thought.

No one was perfect, and no matter how good he looked in tight cut off shorts that barely contained his bountiful ass. No one was perfect with a wild fringe of hair, streaked liberally with silver highlights against the dark brown. Especially not with a haircut that looked like a mullet and an undercut had had a mongrel baby. His shirt which rode up when he danced, featured a sparkly decal of the Count from Sesame Street, and the fishnets that disappeared into worn Doc Martins that had clearly been colored with acid green spraypaint were sparkly.

He was a disaster, and he was perfect.

But Janus didn’t live as long as he had by courting disaster. So he turned away, even as his eyes lingered on the edge of a pectoral when the other man raised his hands as he danced.

The disaster’s name was Remus, he learned.

It wasn’t as if Janus went looking for the information (he had), but their brothers had met at the same club, and had too much fun arguing not to become friends. Despite Roman’s claims that they were fraternal twins, not identical, they bore more than a siblings resemblance to each other, with the same liquid hazel eyes, cupid’s bow lips, and smooth dark skin lightly dusted with body hair. Roman, however, was not a disaster. He was more elegant, enjoying a more classic look, softening tailored suits by forgoing ties, and leaving the hollow of his throat exposed, shirt held closed with a necklace instead.

“Two buttons is kind of slutty,” Roman told him one evening, as they compared fashion. “But one? That’s just enticing.”

Virgil scoffed at his friend’s pronouncement. But then he liked softer, informal looks generally swimming in oversized hoodies and soft, unfitted shirts. He wouldn’t even wear skinny jeans, even though he liked the look. Frankly, he was kind of upset Tripp pants had gone out of fashion, and still wore them from time to time, a fact that both his brother and Roman ribbed Virgil for frequently.

“So what does that make your brother?” Janus asked, as a vivid image of the last time he’d seen Remus popping into his head- he’d been wearing a vest and tie without a shirt, and leather pants that laced up the side with multiple shoelaces instead of their original cord. He’d never considered the existence of butt side boob, but it now lived as they said, rent free in his head.

Roman tipped his head back giving a huffing growl.

“A penance I must endure.” Roman shook his head, thick dark hair bouncing as he did. “You’ve seen him”

“Once or twice.” he lied. It was more like every time he could, he couldn’t look away, and every time left him with more images that would surface without warning.

“He’s hard to miss.” Roman sighed.

“So are you.” Virgil teased, spreading his fingers as he examined his drying polish.

“Perhaps but I am a treat.” he took Virgil’s other hand and carefully began on it.

“You’re not a snack, you’re barely an horderve.”

Roman gave an offended gasp, and wiggled a finger in his friend's face.

“How dare you-” he started, and Virgil snapped playfully at the finger.

“Less than a mouthful.”

“Virgil.” he said sharply, tapping his shoe against his brother’s foot. Virgil turned on him, lip lifting from the corner of his mouth. Janus tipped his head pointedly, his eyes opening just a trifle larger. Virgil’s snarl dropped, and a faint flush made itself visible, stark on his unnaturally pale skin. He picked up his sunglasses and hid behind them.

“Aw, it’s okay my fair emo.” Roman teased. “I’m not really insulted, I know you love me.”

“It’s stockholm syndrome.” Virgil grumbled, and Janus snorted, moving his foot away, and looking at his phone. Looking at his phone, because his mind filled with images of Remus again, some of them dressed up to match Janus’s dapper suits, and some dressed down, wild and sweaty and naked. He gave his head a shake and looked at the calendar app on his phone.

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

“Will I see you two at the club tomorrow?” Roman asked as he left.

“No, family thing.” Janus answered, staring at his calendar.

“Boo-” Roman pouted, and turned to Virgil. “Sure I can’t tempt you away?”

“Nah I’m good. I’ll text you.”

“Then I await the gifts your fingers give me.” Roman purred at him, and cheekily turned away, getting into his car. Virgil watched it until it disappeared around the bend of the driveway.

“Less than a mouthful, huh?” Janus teased.

“Stop~” Virgil whined, covering his face with both hands.

“So you’ve been thinking about devouring him?”

“Maybealittle.” he blurted out. “He’s just so… fragrant.”

“How can you tell under that cologne of his?”

“I just can.”

“We have to be careful, Virgil.” Janus said genuinely worried. “If we aren’t we’ll have to go home permanently, and you don’t want that. Neither of us do.”

“I know.” he snapped. “I just… want.”

“Can’t relate.” Janus lied.

It was midafternoon when Virgil discovered that Roman wasn’t answering his texts because he’d forgotten his phone, the device having slid between the couch cushions.

“I’m just going to run it over real quick.” He told Janus.

“I don’t think it’s a-”

“Calm down,” Virgil rolled his eyes. “You know I’m careful. I’ll be back in plenty of time. I bet he’s tearing his house and car apart like the princess looking for the pea.”

Janus grumbled, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt.

“Fine. Be careful.”

“Oh please.” Virgil flipped his hood up and headed out. After a few moments, Janus heard the garage door open, and Virgil’s car drive away.

He immediately began pacing. It wasn’t as if he was worried. Virgil was very conscientious and even more careful than he was.

Worrying would be ridiculous.

Time ticked by, and Virgil didn’t return- or answer his texts. Janus got into his own car, and might have sped a little bit (or more than a little) as he went over to the duplex the twins shared. By the time he got there, the sun was starting to set. Virgil’s car was parked outside, so he was still there.They had to go. He knocked sharply on Roman’s door.

“Hey hey-” the other door opened, and there was Remus, wearing yoga pants and a tank top which frankly should have been illegal in Janus’s opinion, never mind that it was the most banal thing he’d ever seen the man wearing, though he was still wearing eye makeup, smoky shadow and silver eyeliner “As entertaining as it would be to me to watch you cockblock my bro, give ‘em a little privacy huh?”

“What?” Janus demanded. “What are you-”

“Look, you’re the crescent to your bro’s full moon and I’m digging it-” Remus pointed out, “But you gotta let the boy get some, and my bro’s been gone on that for months.”

“How do you even know who I am?” Janus retorted sharply. “We’ve never spoken.”

“I like to keep my eyes on the hottest people ‘sides me in the club.” Remus retorted, flashing his white teeth. “So you would be on my radar even if Ro-bro’s blood wasn’t boiling over your brother. C’mon in, we can have a drink and do hot girl stuff-”

“No.” He raised his hand and went to knock again. Remus caught his wrist. Janus’s heart jumped in his chest, and his head swam at the cool touch of skin on skin. Images of that touch elsewhere on his skin danced through his mind at breakneck speed. Lies aside, he wanted,and he wanted badly, and tonight was no different and much worse all at once. He yanked his hand from a struck-seeming Remus and forwent knocking again, actually forcing the door open. A waft of musk hit his nose as he did, thick and heady.

“Now hold up-” Remus started, shaking himself from his stupor, and Janus growled at him flashing his own teeth in a much less attractive fashion.

“Virgil~!” he called in a sing song, stepping inside the dim interior. “You’re late~! We have to go.” He cocked his head and sniffed the air. Where was he? Damn it, the smell of Remus crowding in behind him was distracting, even with the musk clouding the air. He whirled and Remus got a facefull of braids and beads. The scrunch of his nose and the curl of his mustache’d lip was not hot, damn it.

“Back off-” he demanded. “I just need to pick up my brother, we can talk again later, and I truly am sorry for intruding like this-” he made the mistake of putting his hand forward, palm pressing against his chest, fingers brushing the curl of body hair that peeked out of Remus’s tank top. ‘Nice’ his brain insisted, and threw up more images. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t gotten a look at the rest of the body hair before. Then he heard a noise- a whimper maybe, and the musk was tinged with blood. He leapt for the stairs.

“Fuck!” Remus said behind him and the front door slammed shut. That didn’t matter, because someone was hurting his brother.The door was just an obstacle, just like the one in front of him that crashed open.

“What the heck!” Roman said, turning eyes wide. Virgil stared over his shoulder, fingers dug into the other man’s bare back. There were beads of blood appearing under his nails, but that wasn’t the source of the smell.

“Let go of him!” Janus snarled like his teeth were too big for his mouth.

“No.” to his surprise it was Virgil who answered, not Roman. Roman to his credit, did sit up a little before being stopped by Virgil’s hands.

“We have to go.” Janus said, carefully enunciating every word.

“You go.” Virgil retorted shortly. Roman licked his too red mouth, and smiled a little sheepishly.

“I know this is kind of a shock-” he started. “But Janus, listen.”

“No.”

“My turn.” came Remus’s voice right behind his ear, and a hand slid up, under his chin, cupping the bare skin, as an arm slid around his waist. Janus’s knees went weak as his mind flooded with images, not of Remus’s form, but of his own, in a way he’d never found appealing before. Janus knew he was good looking but he’d never- he didn’t find himself attractive. These thoughts weren’t his. “Oooh boy.” He felt Remus’s face press to his shoulder, and he moaned.

“Don’t hurt him-” Janus heard Virgil snap.

“He isn’t, my love, I promise, he’s just distracting him.” Roman murmured soothingly.

Janus’s knees gave out.

“Fucking vampires.” he growled. He knew where he was, he could feel the carpet under his knees, but his mind was flying.

“That is one sexy pot calling a kettle black.” Remus muttered, having followed him down to the floor. He sniffed at Janus’s hair. “Fuck, I’ve never smelled anything like this.”

“We’re not that special.” Virgil grumbled, grabbing his shirt from the floor. “Just shapeshifters.”

“You ain’t special, moony.” Remus retorted. “But fuck.” He shuddered. “Gonna let go. Don’t try and kill my bro, ‘kay? Fuck head got cream carpet. Who does that?” Slowly the hand slid away, and Remus’s arm released his waist. He could feel him backing off, and heard when he collided with the wall.

“Virgil-” Janus whined, shaking off the feeling of running that he’d been floating it when Remus’s skin touched his. “We have to go-”

“I’m fine, Janus, I promise.” Virgil grabbed his brother’s hands and hauled him to his feet. “Roman- he helped, it was…” he reached for words and they failed him. Janus stuck his nose in the crook of Virgil’s neck and groaned. He could smell his brother’s blood.

“He bit you. He put his fucking fangs in your neck.”

“He asked first.”

“Gonna kill him.”

“Maybe we should get going.” Virgil put his hand in Janus’s braids, stroking soothingly. Roman sighed wistfully. “Can it you sap, he’s all full of the moon, and it’s going to rise soon. Which is exactly why I wasn’t supposed to stay.”

“They’re going to kill us.” Janus grumbled and straightened up. He forced his anger down. The moon wasn’t up yet. They might make it if they hurried.

“Where do you need to go?” Remus asked.

“What?”

“I mean, I’m guessing it ain’t too far or pretty boy would have shown up earlier.”

“The state park next to our house.” Virgil answered. “We usually walk.”

“Bitchin.” reaching out, Remus grabbed a pair of Romans shoes and shoved them onto his bare feet. “You still smell like blood and lust, Ro. You stay here and we can have a great chat later”

“Remus, please.” Roman protested, huffing.

“You dumb bitches can muddle your scents all you want later, but right now, they’ll whiff you out.” he got to his feet. “I’ll drive you guys back. Neither of you are in a state to drive.” He looked sheepishly down at Janus. “Sorry man, I really did think they were just fucking.”

“What did you do?” Janus asked. He kept a hold of Virgil and his brother led him back downstairs. His skin felt too tight, like he’d forced a shift at a wrong time, it made his clothes almost hurt. He could hear and smell Roman trailing along behind them.

“Empathic imagery. Kinda like psychometry.” he scratched at his hair. “People have to have the right kind of brain for it, but when I touched you I got some imagery from you, so-”

“You saw that?” Janus squeaked.

“Yep!”

“Virgil, I’ve changed my mind.” he deadpanned. “Please kill me. I want to go ruining Roman’s rug.”

Roman made an offended noise. Remus’s cackle of laughter almost drowned it out as he opened the door to the pink-gold of sunset.

“Never said it was a bad thing.” Remus gave a wink, displaying that at some point he’d gotten Janus’s keys off of him. “We can totes get back to that later.”

Roman dove in and stole a kiss from Virgil, tucking his hoodie around his shoulders. Janus was too mortified to take a swing at the vampire, and let Virgil shove him into the back seat.

“I had it handled you know.” Virgil muttered to him as the car zipped off.

“You could have messaged me.” Janus retorted.

“Yeah, that would have gone over great. ‘Getting the moon fucked out of me by a vampire, see you tomorrow’”

Janus growled and wiggled out of his jacket.

“I think you’re jealous.”

“Virgil, you’re my brother and I love you, and I also love my car, which is why I am not tearing you to pieces right now. You have complicated everything, you’ve exposed us and you’re fucking a vampire.”

“Not yet.” Virgil mumbled petulantly under his breath.

“Argh!” snarled Janus at the ceiling, yanking his tie loose. The car pulled over suddenly. “We’re not home.”

“Nope, but we are in the park.” Remus retorted. There was hardly any light in the sky. “I’ll drop your car off and get back on my own.”

“Why should I trust you?” Janus demanded, as Virgil opened the door and got out on the side away from the road.

“Well, it ain’t a ringing endorsement, but I’ve had those thoughts kickin’ around my head for a while. Just didn’t know how to approach you. You’re uh. A little intimidating, even for me. I mean it’s not like I give a shit about most things, but you could unhinge your jaw and swallow me whole and I wouldn’t even mind.”

Janus couldn’t smell any of the sourness that he’d associate with someone lying.

“Alright then.” He stepped out and tossed his shirt into the back seat as Virgil did the same thing, pale body stepping into the woods, before disappearing into a smaller flash of white- a owl leapt into a tree.

“Oh man, Ro’s going to be so jealous I saw all that.” Remus laughed to himself. Then he stopped looking over at Janus. His eyes dipped down, then came back up to Janus’s face. “Wait, I thought you guys were werewolves?”

“I don’t think I ever said that.” Burning off energy, Janus flashed through his favorite forms- a full grown anaconda, a raven, a huge house cat and then finally ended up as a large black fox, amber eyes similar to his human ones.

“Fuck you’re pretty.” Remus breathed. “So, dinner sometime?” he said, crouching down to look the fox in the eye. “Mice looks like it’s on the menu across the board, or we could hit the sushi bar?”

Foxes weren’t really suited to rolling their eyes, so Janus rolled his entire head before following Virgil into the woods.

“That’s not a no!” Remus called cheerfully.

Fuck. Well, if his life was a disaster anyway, Janus might as well date one.

#willow is writing #TS Remus #TS Janus #TS Virgil #TS Roman

13 notes · View notes

autumnslance · 3 years

Link

((Shadowbringers 5.3-5.4. I wanted to have this done by the 15th of January but didn’t quite manage it because these two idiots are wordy as heck, and I initially started in the wrong place and POV. I wrote roughly 8000 words total and only ended up using half of them. There are letters and pining and admitting things happening here.

Below the cut as usual for those who prefer Tumblr to Ao3, but the formatting may work better on that site.))

Aeryn stepped through the mirror and into the familiar space of the Ocular, taking a moment to reorient herself after the rush of journeying between worlds. Once the vertigo had passed she left the Tower, the Crystarium guards greeting her as she crossed the Exedra. It took some questioning before she was finally pointed to where Ryne was currently; training with Captain Lyna just outside the city gates.

She simply watched for a time as Lyna tried to keep her distance while Ryne tried to close in. Aeryn did not announce herself, simply noting how Ryne’s bladework had improved, at least one new trick learned since the last time Aeryn had watched her fight.

“That is enough for now,” Lyna said as they reached a breakpoint in their dance. “And the Warrior of Darkness has waited long enough,” she continued with a wry smile in Aeryn’s direction.

Ryne started, then turned with a grin, hurrying over to give Aeryn a hug. “It’s good to see you! Oh sorry, I’m all sweaty…”

Aeryn laughed, brushing damp strands of hair from Ryne’s reddened face. It was still winter in Eorzea, but in Norvrandt spring was on the horizon and the morning was warm. “Not to worry. Hope you don’t mind the interruption.”

Lyna waved them off. “Go on; we can catch up later.”

Aeryn nodded, knowing the captain wanted word of her grandfather, and G’raha had given Aeryn a small package to deliver, but that would wait until Lyna was off duty and had readied herself. There was an order to such things with the stoic woman.

Instead, Aeryn turned back to Ryne and smiled. Had she gotten taller? “I have a question, if you’ll indulge me.”

“Of course!” Ryne answered as they walked across the bridge into the city. “What is it you need?”

“I have a note from Thancred; he and Urianger are currently on a mission, but he left me instructions for tod--well. The day it is back on the Source.”

“I see. What are the instructions?”

“I’m to ask you about the black willow box he kept in his room here.”

Ryne paused, a little sharp breath escaping. “Ryne?” Aeryn asked.

“Sorry! It’s just I was under strict instruction never to open the box, though I have the key now, of course; I still didn’t dare. It’s where he kept,” she hesitated.

“Kept what?”

“I’ll show you; it’s a good thing--I think--that he wants you to see. Come on!” Ryne dashed toward her apartment as if she hadn’t just completed a long practice session with the captain of the guard. Aeryn picked up her own pace to follow along after.

It did not take long for them to reach the apartment Ryne used to share with Thancred. As the girl opened the door, Aeryn realized it was the first time she had returned to these rooms since the Scions’ departure from the First. It was much as she remembered, though lacking Thancred’s continued presence. Evidence of Gaia’s frequent visits were visible instead, from lipstick-stained coffee mugs at the sink to dark ribbons left on an end table to a book that did not seem to be to Ryne’s taste on a sofa cushion.

Ryne paused in front of the door that had led to Thancred’s small room. “I haven’t been in here since,” she trailed off, shaking her head. “Gaia and Taynor sorted most of it, actually, so only a few personal things remain. I should probably move to a smaller suite to let someone else use the space…”

“Maybe you need a roommate,” Aeryn suggested. “Perhaps Gaia could stay with you.”

Ryne reddened. “We’ve considered it, but I’m just…” She gave a helpless little laugh as she shrugged, looking up at Aeryn apologetically. “I’m just not quite ready, I think. It’s silly, but there’s a part of me that keeps hoping they’ll find a way--a safe way--to return. Even just for a little while.”

Aeryn squeezed Ryne’s shoulder. “It’s not silly,” she said quietly. “And I keep hoping that, too. Fairly certain Y’shtola has it at the top of her projects list.”

Ryne laughed, truly this time. “She would!” She looked at the door again. “The box should be on the shelf above the writing desk,” she offered Aeryn a small key. “I’ll let you see for yourself.”

Aeryn nodded, taking the little key and entering the room.

It was familiar, yet unfamiliar. Always small, it had kept from being cramped mainly by virtue of Thancred’s own minimalist tendencies with his added reluctance of accumulating things on the First that he would have to leave behind in the end. Even so, the room felt barren, many necessities and items missing, given away to be used by others in need among the Crystarium’s residents; naught went to waste while still usable.

The bed was neatly made; her eyes lingered for a moment, recalling a handful of pleasant times curled up together in it. They had often met in her own chambers for privacy, especially when feeling the need for more than simple closeness. There was a bench under the shuttered window; he used to clean his gunblade there, storing materials and parts in a chest beneath the bench. Nothing remained but the seat.

The writing desk was really a tall square table, a stool for the chair, in a corner of the room. Two simple shelves hung on the wall above it, some of Thancred’s personal effects that remained neatly placed upon them. The black willow box was a simple but lovely piece of old Nabaath make. It was familiar only in that it was a part of the room, always upon the shelf above the desk, a background decoration.

She had to stretch a little to pull the small box down. She unlocked it, pondering what it could contain for one last moment before opening the lid to find out.

Neatly folded pages, Thancred’s familiar handwriting covering them, five different bundles marked by Vrandtic dates in Eorzean lettering. The earliest one was dated five--no, six years ago now, in the midst of Thancred’s first year in this world, just after the Vrandtic new year. The second bundle was dated a year later. Then the third, then a fourth. The final bundle broke the date pattern, written...She shivered. The dates would have been the time after they assaulted Mt Gulg and before seeking Emet-Selch and the Exarch in the Tempest, when she had lain in a Light-induced fever for days in between.

All of the letters, long and detailed, were addressed to her.

Aeryn carried the box to the window and opened the shutters, letting in the natural light of day. She sat at the bench, picked up the first letter, and began to read, brows already rising at the first line.

My Dear Aeryn,

It’s been roughly half a year, to me, since I arrived in this world. We search for a means to send me back, but given the dangers, it’s difficult to say if we shall ever be successful. I hold onto hope, given we have made the impossible happen more than once—particularly when you are involved.

I know so much less time is passing for you, even as time is difficult to track beneath the eternal Light, but the people still mark the hours and days as best they can--perhaps better than we do in the Source, reliant as we are upon the sun and stars. So as the calendar year turns to a new page, I find myself confronted by reminders of you at every turn, my own mind noting the dates, as if counting down to your nameday in truth.

Violas grown in the Hortorium call to mind your favored hair decoration and your scents carried with it. The heather meadows and clear mountain springs of Il Mheg make me think of the taste of your magic. Treasure hunters in Mord Souq unearth duelist rapiers reminiscent of your combat style. The grey waters of a lake, shifting in color and tone under the burning sky, remind me of your eyes and ever-shifting moods.

I think of our new situation, how fragile it all still seems, our duties as Scions, the distance between Ala Mhigo and Doma keeping us apart more often than I liked. Especially after already having denied my own interests for far longer than I care to admit.

I fear now, not knowing when I may return to your side--in whatever capacity--that I am forgetting important things, and I very much do not want to. So indulge me as I list your various qualities that I admire, to remind myself why I allowed myself to maintain my impossible infatuation for so long, even as you became one of my dearest friends...

Aeryn eyes widened as she turned to the next page, then quickly checked the several pages following; Thancred had indulged his bardic habits, writing in verse and engaging in wordplay. Even the most innocent descriptions and memories of moments together, professional and extremely personal, were laden with puns and innuendo--not entirely unexpected from him.

She was mostly through the verses, trying to parse every dedicated line, when a knock at the door startled her.

“Aeryn?” Gaia called. “Everything all right?”

She cleared her throat. “Fine; I’ve quite a bit of reading to do, though; I may need some water.”

The door opened, Gaia appearing with a tray already in hand. “Ryne thought you might--are you all right? You’re redder than I have ever seen, and that’s saying something.”

Aeryn pressed a hand to her warm cheeks. “I’m fine. Just...wasn’t expecting some of what I found so far.”

“Is that good or bad?” The girl asked, setting the tray on the nearby side table in easy reach. There was a small tea service and also ice water, bless them.

“It’s...Better than good,” Aeryn replied. “I may be awhile, though.”

Gaia shrugged in her nonchalant, pretending-not-to-care way. “Doesn't matter to me, but I was going to drag Ryne out for a while, just so you know. You’ll be fine here by yourself--won’t you?” A little genuine care came through in the last two words, despite her attempts to seem otherwise.

Aeryn nodded.

“All right. Enjoy your reading, and we’ll see you later.” Gaia gave a little wave before leaving, quietly closing the door behind her.

Aeryn cleared her throat again, sipping the cup of minty green tea--bless those girls again--and set the first letter aside for now. She would get back to that later; alone in her own room, where she could bury her face in a pillow and shriek like a schoolgirl when overwhelmed by his words, godsdamn him. For now, the second bundle had her curious.

My Dearest Aeryn,

I almost let the date slip by, I am ashamed to say. So much has happened in recent weeks...

She read through two pages of his recounting Minfilia’s story and the reincarnations that had followed, offering a small hope to Norvrandt; of Urianger and Y’shtola’s arrival, his anger at the spell’s failure and yet relief at seeing Urianger again; and their shift in focus upon learning of the Eighth Umbral Calamity.

...Urianger’s vision of the Calamity, of our deaths, is a sobering thought. The idea of you fallen especially freezes my blood. I cannot bear the thought.

So I redoubled my efforts to rescue the girl bearing Minfilia’s name and appearance. She sleeps now on a cot in this Mord town as I write. She can’t be more than twelve or thirteen summers; a frail little thing with no skills aside from reading books thicker than she is, and asking innumerable questions. They taught her nothing, simply locked her in a windowless cell under the waterline. For at least ten years, that is all the child’s known. If the fate Urianger saw for us makes my blood freeze, her situation makes it boil again. Should I chance to meet Eulmore’s General--the man responsible for her “care”--I will let him know exactly what I think.

Tomorrow Minfilia and I shall attempt to reach Nabaath Areng, the site of the Flood’s halting; the girl says she must go there, as if pulled. I have a hope I dare not voice yet. The Blessing of Light does work in such interesting ways.

But that is on the morrow; tonight, though a day late, I wished to write to you as I did last year. With the date in mind you have also been in my thoughts--when I’ve had a moment to think, at least--and I find myself recalling more and more often the little things. Simple things. Things I fear I may forget, having been here for years now, years without the way you tilt your head when you have a question. It initially annoyed me actually, you were so quiet but now, gods I would give much to be in your silence again, to see that quizzical look. Anything to see the little furrow between your brows when you’re thinking. When you prop your chin on your hands as you stare out a window, tea forgotten in your hand. How you unconsciously wriggle and make faces as you read, reacting to the pages, lips silently moving as you devour each word...

“Oh I do not,” Aeryn muttered--realizing in the same moment that she was doing that now. She sipped her tea and kept reading, noting how he wrote, as much as what; the moments where he had scratched out words, or underlined others. The splots where the pen had sat on the page a moment longer than normal as he thought of what he wanted to admit to. The way the letters slanted in places where he was eager. There was no poetry this time, fewer puns and word play. He had written when tired and possibly injured, given the shakiness of some lettering.

There were places where he couldn’t remember clearly--what perfume had she worn on the day of a particular memory? Was she wearing her red coat, or a blue dress in another? He wasn’t certain.

The letter wrapped up several pages later.

...I must get some sleep, given the long trek across the Amber Hills awaiting. I don’t know what will happen when we arrive, but whatever it is, I’ll keep the girl safe. Taking care of her is the only thing I can do, lacking the skills of the Exarch and our colleagues. Particularly now that we have abandoned the idea of going home--yet. I still don’t know how I feel about that, having struggled to find a way back for so long now, but there must be a home to return to. To save ourselves, we must save this realm. Forgive me; as much as I yearn to see you again, I wish for you to live far more. Despite everything, I still remain

Yours, Thancred.

Aeryn drew in a sharp breath; the previous letter’s signature had been much simpler, after all the floweriness of the verses. This simpler, newsy, reminiscent letter had such a different feel to it, so much changing for him in that year. Her eyes kept drifting to that closing.

It took a few moments before she was able to refold that bundle and open the next.

His next year in the First; this one another detailed description of events he survived, and quite a lot about Ryne, still only known as Minfilia at the time.

...I actually began this letter yesterday, as we rested in a small inn at the edge of the Greatwood. I thought of seeking out Y’shtola, but am unfamiliar with those dark and twisting paths, and was low on ammunition. Minfilia was exhausted, unable to fight or imbue cartridges, and I won’t risk her more than our constant travels already do.

It was she who reminded me that I had been writing, before she made me take my rest as well. I’ve never told her about these letters, but she’s a bright girl and I have told her of you. Sometimes it’s simply because she is curious about you, and the hope that you’ll come here and save yourself, as well as the rest of us. Many times though I don’t mean to say anything, but the stories simply come, like a slumbering spring awoken by new rains, bubbling up and overflowing the riverbanks.

It’s something about her, I suppose, that makes me remember, and so I must speak before the memories fade back into the dustier corridors of my mind. Perhaps an effect of her unique Blessing? Or perhaps simply her childish curiosity drawing it out of me.

There’s a selfish part of me that wants you to meet her. It would mean that you’re here, for one, but also I think you two would get along. She’s a good girl--with her moments of petulance and stubbornness, as many youths are wont, but she’s come such a long way already, has learned so quickly.

I fear influencing her. The choice she must make is so important, and it must be hers. You would be a much better role model; you inspire others to do what’s best simply by your presence. I’ve felt the lack of you more keenly this last year than ever before...

Aeryn read through, noting he wrote it more like a conversation she had yet to answer. Memories of their adventures and companionship were woven through the words more naturally as he spoke to her. She smiled as he spent a good chunk of the letter not even realizing how he had gushed about Ryne and all she had learned and how she had grown in that first year they spent together, as if he were trying to ensure Aeryn would love the child as much as he so obviously did--even if the foolish man hadn’t been able to tell the girl so until it had almost been too late.

But then, that was Thancred; locking his thoughts and feelings behind stoicism, snark, and literally in a box on a shelf.

She traced her nail along the letters of his name--again signed “Yours”--before tucking that bundle away and picking up the fourth.

By this time the twins were somewhere in Norvrandt, though Thancred had no opportunity to see them as Eulmore’s hunters were ever close. He wrote to Aeryn of his frustration with how many Scions had come to the First but she was still so far away and still in so much danger, alongside the rest of the Source and this shard itself. If she couldn’t come to Norvrandt to break the Light’s hold over the realm then the girl would have to make her choice sooner rather than later--and perhaps face the same fate as all of her predecessors.

He admitted that he feared both of those outcomes. He seemed to have begun to cross out that line, but had stopped himself.

...A nasty part of me believes you will never receive these nameday letters. That these are simply my way of remembering yet another important woman in my life I will never see again. I try not to dwell on such thoughts, try to keep busy, but you know me. Perhaps better than anyone since our Minfilia. How I wish I could speak with you again; patrolling through Mor Dhona, lunch at Rowena’s cafe, stargazing on the roofs of Ala Mhigo, reading in the Waking Sands’ dusty library. Simply holding you until we fall asleep, those few, rare moments we had. You always made me say more than I ever meant to; you’ve a way of drawing me out despite myself—and failing that, of simply being there as a brilliant, warm presence.

There are places here I want to show you, things I want to share. Yet I fear your coming, what it will mean. What changes I’ve experienced. What we had was...comfortable, and felt right, after so long, and yet it was still so new and fragile. I used to be confident in my ability to be delicate, but these last few years with this girl have made me feel boorish and clumsy. And I know I have changed, not just because of her, but everything in this hard world. Will you recognize me when we meet? Will you still want me, when you were already so uncertain before?

I suppose I shan’t know until you’re here, or we find a way home. Given the Exarch’s record, the former seems more likely. And it still worries me, much as I know it’s the better course to preserve all we hold dear...

Aeryn stared out the window for a long moment; she had known of his doubts, his fears; when she had arrived and finally found him again, it had been difficult. Yet despite everything, they had gotten past it.

She eyed the final bundle, slimmer than the rest, those dates seeming so heavy though she had no conscious recollection of them, given her state at the time. Having finished the tea, she poured a glass of water and began to read.

Aeryn,

Ryne assures us you will still be Aeryn when you wake; her wards hold for now. I pray long enough to find a cure for what those bastards did to you. What we did to you, unknowing. Will you be pleased to know I have not struck Urianger for his part? I was too tired and injured as we returned, and occupied with carrying you besides. Now I simply am too weary in heart and mind to conjure that initial anger, and he has had time to explain how the Exarch coerced him into his confidence.

I am still not happy about it.

For five years I waited to see you again, thought about you through many days and most nights--such as they are, here. It’s funny what one can become accustomed to in time. Finally seeing you again was a jolt to every one of my senses as the missing you had long since become more real to me, much as I longed for your presence.

And as I feared, you hesitated. I don’t blame you; I know this place changed me. What we had back home was still so new, despite the prior years we had known each other. So I tried to be content to merely be in your company once more. We had rebuilt our friendship once, we could do it again. I had been a fool to think I deserved more.

Then you sought me out in Rak’tika. Do I need to tell you how you intoxicated me that day? I hope I was a comfort, both in words and in the release you needed. The distance still felt too great, but this much, at least, I could give. I thought it would be enough, to simply be what you needed in the moment.

I know now that I was once again fooling myself.

These last few months traveling and fighting and just being together have been a strange mix of stress and relief; our mission had been dangerous and difficult in so many ways, and yet working together, it was hard not to get caught up in the optimism, in the feeling that things would turn out, that we would find a way.

And you were here; your quizzical headtilts, your faces when you read, the white flowers in your hair. Your silences, your laughter, your strength in combat and your helping with every common chore in the vicinity. I thought I could simply be happy to bask in your steady light.

But now, seeing it tear you apart, it is not enough; it never was, and never will be. I can live with it, should that be your wish. My wish, however, is to continue what we had once begun. To hold you close not only occasionally but always.

Aeryn felt a hard lump in her throat; there was a decent space between the lines, the ink thick where he had hesitated, the initial letters shaky. Still he had written them:

I am in love with you, Aeryn.

It’s taken me time to collect myself after rereading what I just wrote and fighting the urge to burn the whole page. A part of me fears that you will scoff, though the greater part of me knows--hopes--better of you.

And the gods know you deserve better than me, but if you’ll have me, I certainly won’t complain.

I know after everything with Ryne I ought to say it to you aloud. That it may already be too late to do so. I pray that isn’t the case. I pray I find the courage and the words both to say what you deserve to hear. Even should you never reciprocate; if that should be the case, you shall never hear another whisper from me on the matter.

But I hold out a small hope, that you will, that you do. That we will have the chance to discuss the matter further. That you survive.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. I only know I’ll be at your side until the end; there’s nowhere else I can be.

Ryne is calling; hold on just a little while longer, darling.

Yours always, Thancred.

She covered her face with her hands, emotions and memories flooding over her. There were words before finally confronting Emet-Selch in his memory of Amaurot. More than words on returning to the Crystarium, bodies twined together in relief and comfort.

Then she had returned to the Source to report their success. She came back to the First as quickly as she could, though; not only was there still much work to do, but he was here, and things were...not exactly different, but not quite the same, either.

As she reread the last page, she noticed a swiftly written addendum on the back. She turned it over.

I carried these letters all the way to the Tempest, thinking if I failed to say anything I might at least give them to you--they are yours, after all. But of course no time seemed right, and with a screwing of my courage (and pointed prodding from Urianger), at the last I was able to say what I wished. Miraculously, you said it too.

And now here we are, you peacefully asleep while the night sky wheels overhead and I still hear the celebrations outside despite the ungodly hour. I’ll rejoin you in a moment, but I needed some time to attempt to process the last few days. What happened in the Tempest. The fact you’re alive, and healthy, and claim to love me in return.

I’m not entirely certain why, but I won’t complain, either.

Rereading these letters, I’m not sure I’m quite ready to hand them over yet. They’ll return to their box for now, and perhaps in a few days I’ll be ready to show you.

Aeryn laughed lightly; of course he had hesitated to share them. The letters showed all his vulnerabilities behind the serious, confident facade he had developed. And with everything in the Empty, and then Elidibus, it was no wonder the letters had fallen to the wayside.

Until her actual nameday on the Source had come around, his note delivered with her breakfast by Tataru per Thancred’s instructions while he was on his latest reconnaissance. It wasn’t as if he could have brought the letters with him, after all--nor given them to her in front of the rest of the Scions in the Ocular, nevermind how public their relationship was now.

She rubbed her face--she had cried more than a few times while reading--and replaced the letters in the box. She locked it, and pocketed the key.

The girls were still out so it was no trouble to take the tea service to the sink and clean it, along with the other dishes, giving her time and activity to settle. She finished by washing her own face, removing some evidence of her emotion.

Since the first year she had joined the Scions, they had given each other gifts; she had discovered his nameday from Minfilia, gifting him the orchestrion roll of a song she knew he liked from a favorite minstrel. Her own first nameday as a Scion had been missed due to Lahabrea and Baelsar’s schemes, but Thancred was certain to make up for it. Sometimes they were late, or even early, but they always managed a little something, even as friends.

Aeryn took the box with her as she left Ryne’s apartment. She still had a few people to see while here on the First--starting with Lyna and the messages from G’raha--but then she would retire to her own suite in the Pendants and do a bit of rereading.

And maybe a bit more once she returned home, too; after all, if she timed it right, it would still be her nameday, and the best time to reread her present.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Lyn Writing #Shadowbringers #Thancred Waters #Thancred x WoL #Shippy Nonsense #Aeryn Striker #Pining

43 notes · View notes

drunkserval · 3 years

Text

A Fresh Canvas: Incomplete Preview

Quite some time ago I did a silly little thread on Twitter, and I’ve always wanted to take that and actually make something out of it. Well it was a little harder than expected, but it’s coming along!

When I have the entire thing done I will be uploading it to AO3, but for now it seemed seasonally appropriate to at least drop this.

I wanted to have this posted yesterday but festivities kept me busier than expected! Story is below the cut. Keep in mind that this is still technically a rough draft, and will receive its final beta pass before the full story hits AO3.

(Tentative) Title: A Fresh Canvas Fandom: Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System by MXTX Rating: G, No Warnings Apply Summary: Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan are neighbors in the same modern apartment complex who, despite looking similar enough to be mistaken for each other, couldn’t be any more different. Or so they think.

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

Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan were neighbors in the same apartment complex. They lived on the same floor, in the same hall, and were often mistaken for one another due to this proximity combined with how similar their appearances were.

But there were key differences, as both would readily point out to their neighbors. Shen Jiu’s hair hung shy of his shoulders while Shen Yuan’s was shorter and lighter in tone.

And still the mix-ups kept happening, particularly if they were at some distance or facing away. The misunderstanding would very rarely last past the first glance since Shen Jiu would snap and take immediate offense, and Shen Yuan would just sigh and say, "Sorry, wrong one."

Shen Yuan had no idea why Shen Jiu got so offended over it. Surely he didn’t look that bad, come on!

The neighbors eventually started learning to look at the clothes first--or to at least look for Shen Yuan’s thick-rimmed glasses.

Both men carried and dressed themselves so differently. Shen Yuan dressed in hoodies and jeans--well, if he was planning on going any further than the mailbox, that was. Otherwise why bother changing out of pajamas or sweatpants?

On the other hand, Shen Jiu didn’t touch anything that wasn’t from a known designer.

Shen Jiu spent proudly--and why shouldn’t he? Because he at least earned his money!

That Shen Yuan kid down the hall? Rumor was that his parents were paying his rent and he'd never had a real job in his life.

But because he never went out, Shen Yuan was one of the only people still hanging around the apartment complex when Shen Jiu went around knocking during a major holiday.

In Shen Jiu’s arms was a box containing two fluffy black pups.

Shen Yuan’s eyes widened at the sight of them and he completely forgot to greet his neighbor until Shen Jiu cleared his throat. The dogs were like little storm clouds with feet and stubby tails, staring back at him with big black eyes. One started wagging its tail with such vigor that its whole back end wiggled about.

It took Shen Jiu a moment to find his voice as he followed, such was the state that his neighbor had chosen to answer the door in. Hideous cucumber-print pajama pants, a tacky anime shirt covered in snack crumbs, and unkempt hair had greeted him. But the continuous movement of the box in his arms reminded him of his mission.

“I found... ” Shen Jiu shifted the box in indication as Shen Yuan shut the door behind them, “these, out by the garbage.”

Shen Yuan blinked as the other passed by him, “Have you tried calling any nearby shelters?”

“Of course I have,” Shen Jiu scoffed at the implication that he was so simple. “You try getting a real person on the phone today, though. It’s impossible. I could only leave messages.”

Shen Yuan put a finger to his lips, “Oh, right. Today is…” Glancing at a wall calendar almost as ugly as his shirt he nodded, “Right. Right.”

Did this kid ever so much as leave the building? Shen Jiu was starting to wonder. Shen Yuan dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed in the latter part of the daytime. And he hadn’t realized it was a major holiday. And then there were the countless odorous takeout boxes covering every available surface in his apartment.

Shen Jiu wrinkled his nose but still asked in spite of his rapidly growing doubts, “You don’t know anyone who can take these little mutts in for a day or two, do you?”

Shen Yuan shook his head and heard Shen Jiu sigh. His neighbor set the box down to give his arms a rest… but Shen Yuan couldn’t seem to rip his attention away from one of the pups. It hadn’t stopped staring at him, or shaking its fluffy little behind, for a moment.

“What if we take them in?”

Shen Jiu’s tone was flat, “What.”

Shen Yuan picked up the excited little pup and it immediately started wiggling in his grasp. Not struggling, however--just trying to get closer to his face, paws waving in the air and its little pink tongue darting out to reach for him even though it was still well outside of range. He had to fight back the urge to laugh at the silly little storm cloud.

“The building allows us to have one animal per unit, right?” Shen Yuan shrugged, “so what if we each took one, even just long enough to find them new homes?”

Shen Jiu frowned. Taking in a dog, or really any animal, had never been on his agenda. He liked his nice clean apartment and intact furniture unlike a certain someone. Plus he was more partial to cats. He moved his gaze from the overexcited animal back to the box. Though the pups looked identical on the surface this one was clearly the calmer one. It looked up at his scowling face but put forth no such ridiculous display… thank goodness.

Who knew? Maybe Shen Yuan’s idea wasn’t so bad. And if it was, it was only a temporary arrangement, in the end. He might be able to get rid of the animal as soon as tomorrow if it was truly intolerable.

Tentatively, Shen Jiu reached out to pick up the dog…

And felt tiny teeth close around his fingers.

Jerking his hand backwards, Shen Jiu sneered down at the animal. “What, you ungrateful little beast!”

Shen Yuan finally stopped cooing at his own pup to look over and said, “Maybe he doesn’t like your cologne?”

“And what’s wrong with my cologne?” Shen Jiu snapped, voice raising.

Stepping back, “Nothing, nothing!”

“It was a gift, you know!”

Shen Yuan barely avoided tripping over a haphazard stack of game cases as he kept moving away. “P-perhaps it’s just too strong for a dog’s nose, that’s all!”

This time Shen Jiu moved quickly, snatching up the dog by its middle before it could get its ridiculously tiny muzzle around anything, and he stared directly into the animal’s eyes.

“Do that again, and I’ll put you back out in the cold where I found you. Understood?”

The dog stared back at him, placid and indifferent… until its tongue darted out and licked the end of his nose.

“...good enough.”

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

It was a few days before the two of them crossed paths again.

It’d seem they both had decided to keep their newfound pets and they were both out that day to take the dogs for walks.

The air in the park was warm, so they sat themselves on a bench to enjoy it for a bit longer and soak up some of the sunlight that was so rare that time of year. Shen Jiu’s pup sat like a sentry at his feet while Shen Yuan’s pup curled up on his lap the moment he sat down.

It was through the ensuing conversation they realized they both gave their dog the same name by sheer coincidence.

One was too lazy and the other was too stubborn, so neither changed it. At least they’d bought different-colored collars. But this brought to light a new revelation, and Shen Yuan just had to ask…

“How did you come up with it?”

“It was just the first thing to come to mind,” Shen Jiu had explained, “from something I’ve been reading, probably.”

"Wait, you read that too!?"

As he suspected! That name was from one of the top-rated web novels that year, from its stallion protagonist: Luo Binghe!

Shen Yuan couldn’t imagine someone as outwardly prim as Shen Jiu reading trashy webnovels, but it turned out to be true. It was just a quick, easy way for him to kill a few minutes of downtime at work, Shen Jiu reasoned in his defense.

Whenever they met up from that point forward, Shen Yuan talked his ear off about his various grievances with Proud Immortal Demon Way.

‘Villains that dig their own graves but don’t bother finishing! Women that lead the protagonist on a three-chapter long subplot just to get to their lewd scenes, only to never see them again! And every single character lost all of their intelligence when the protagonist came around!’

And yet he had nothing but praise for said protagonist… almost excessive praise.

Shen Jiu is annoyed at first but he starts enjoying the company. Which is good because the dog turns out to be a menace.

Well, both dogs could be counted as menaces, just in different ways.

Bing-mei (as they come to call him) would start whining so pitifully when Shen Yuan shut the door between them, thus he often just gave up and took the dog with him whenever it was feasible.

Bing-ge, on the other hand, broke his toys within days, climbed around on furniture he wasn’t allowed on--sometimes when Shen Jiu was looking right at him, too--he barked, he scratched furniture, he tore up pillows.

Despite all the trouble he was causing for his master, Shen Jiu would no longer entertain the idea of giving him up. Not after Bing-ge tore up three separate muggers on three separate occasions and growled at the person who kept taking his parking space until it never happened again.

But the biggest takeaway from their conversations, for Shen Jiu, wasn’t webnovels or dogs. It made him start to realize how lonely he'd been.

The only other person he really spoke to was halfway around the world for their work and they only spoke a couple of times a month. Now that Shen Yuan was around, Shen Jiu actually started to have things to look forward to besides the monotony of work--knocks on the door, long walks with the dogs, the occasional cup of tea afterward on colder days...

Shen Jiu was never the sort to be up-front with his feelings, so he found a way to show his gratitude by helping Shen Yuan with his confidence issues. He started encouraging him to go out more, and to put a little more effort into his looks when he did. This morphed into helping clean up his squalid apartment since Shen Jiu could barely stand to look at it when he came over.

Months later, Shen Jiu’s recommendation had helped Shen Yuan to land an entry-level job. That, and a steady habit of going out once a week, gave them something else to do and talk about.

Progress was slow, but visible. Shen Yuan seemed a little less awkward in public with each passing week.

One night they were leaning on Shen Yuan’s balcony. It was a night of celebration, for he’d just earned his very first promotion, and Shen Jiu had brought over wine for the occasion.

He found himself leaning closer to Shen Jiu, telling himself it was just to get a better look at him in the dim light of the city night. His focus wasn’t the best even when he was sober after all. Yet Shen Yuan didn’t stop. And when Shen Jiu turned to look at him in confusion, and their lips met, he didn’t withdraw for several seconds.

Neither did Shen Jiu.

Shen Yuan tried to flee as soon as he realized what he’d done only for Shen Jiu to pull him back saying:

"Don't run, take responsibility. We talked about this."

#svsss #svsss fic #mxtx #modern au #bingpup #shen jiu #shen yuan #jiuyuan

46 notes · View notes

some-dr-writings · 4 years

Text

SHSL Barista Shuichi x Reader One-shot: A Very Mysterious Birthday

Shuichi rather groggily awoke up that morning. Though taking a glance at the standing desk calendar atop his bedside table perked him up faster than drinking a latte with several espresso shots in it, like the ones he’d often make for himself every morning. It was his birthday! You, his partner, the SHSL Detective said you’d spend the whole day with him. It was rarer for such a thing to happen. You were rather busy with most everyone constantly requesting your services.

You were so busy, you two even met when you were working. You were looking for an ex-friend of some person who had cut contact with them and wanted to reconnect. You met him at the Hope’s Peak cafeteria as he worked, requesting a drink since you had stayed up the night prior investigating, needing more energy to keep going just a little longer. Shuichi was immediately intrigued by you, he had heard of you and how you were often found collapsed and being sent to the nurse’s office, never resting when you had work to do. At first, he chatted with you to try to stall you, so you’d rest just a little longer but all too quickly the pair of you were deep in conversation of your pasts. Shuichi told you how he kind of worked as a detective, working with his uncle at his detective agency. Of how he’d often go on coffee runs for his uncle and other detectives. He quickly saw how expensive constantly going out for coffee became so he opted to get the proper equipment and started making coffee for everyone at the office. Some of the detectives started bragging about how great his drinks were and soon the office became a detective agency and coffee house hybrid with people dropping by solely to buy Shuichi’s coffee. Shuichi didn’t truly throw himself into being a barista till he solved a case he regretted solving… he didn’t go into detail about that, instead explaining how because of that incident he sort of escaped and gained the courage to look people in the eye again through serving them coffee and making light banter to lift their moods when cases got especially dark. From that day onward you’d go to the cafeteria for a coffee break to get a drink from your favorite barista and eventual boyfriend.

He so excitedly started texting you but got no reply. This was not too surprising. You often left your phone on silent or vibrate when working on a case, and he knew despite how true to your word you tried to be, you always got tangled up in cases, focusing solely on them. He wasn’t surprised if in the night you had gotten a text relating to a new case and started working on it. He was admittedly a little disappointed, but he couldn’t help but smile to himself imagining how you were likely so passionately dashing around or snooping through a book.

Much to his surprise though, when he opened the front door, he saw you there. You were sound asleep, sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall right beside his door. Your head drooped forward, a lollipop stick sticking out of your mouth. Your signature dark, forest green trench coat was draped over yourself like a blanket. “Y/N?” He raised a brow as a lopsided smile drew on his lips seeing you so peacefully there. He kneeled down beside you, gently shaking your shoulder. You slowly awoke, slightly raising your head and blinked a few times. “Hmm? Ah, morning gorgeous.” You chuckled seeing how his cheeks instantly flushed such a bright red. “… You need to wake up. Here-” Helping you to your feet, he led you inside. “Get inside and I’ll make you a drink.”

You sighed, smelling the delectable aroma of coffee brewing, though you were used to the smell since it always lingered in Shuichi’s clothes and on his hair, you never grew tired of or noseblind to the sent. You loved the light thud of the mug against the small wooden table as it was placed before you. The steam that raised up, clouded your vision and tickled your nose was delightful. As you brought the mug to your lips, you spotted the latte art was in the shape of a heart. You were going to say something but stopped, seeing Shuichi was taking a sip from his own drink, clearly trying to mask his blush being that of the heat, not the slight embarrassment and excitement from making that simple design for you. Deciding it was too soon to fluster the poor boy you decided to let it go, instead gently smiling, letting him know the gesture was appreciated.

Propping your elbows on the table, you leaned forward a little getting just a smallest bit closer to your boyfriend who sat across from you. “So, what does the birthday boy want to do today? I know it’s Monday so classes will be on, but we can just skip, it’s not like the school will care or it will effect our grades much.” “Hmm… I haven’t thought much on it actually. I’m just looking forward to being with you today.” “Aw. I’m glad you enjoy my company so much. But I believe we should do something special. Something you like but don’t get to do often, something like that. We could go find some unknown library and snoop through for some obscure novel, you only have so few unread novels left.” “Yeah, that would be nice.” Shuichi looked past you to the wall blocked by tower after tower or cardboard boxes that reached the ceiling, filled to bursting with books. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind going for a walk in the park, or a lunch date.” “Ah, when I was helping Tanaka search for his lost dog the other day, I heard of this new sushi place that opened up. It’s a little on the expensive side, but from what I gathered it’s well worth the price! Though we’ll have to make sure Hanamura doesn’t find out, you know how he get’s when people go out to eat on school days when he’s in the kitchen.” “Ah, maybe we could ask him to make us something and we have a picnic at the park.” “Great thinking! We can eat after finding a new book!”

“Yeah, but I’d still like to go to class today.” You paused for a moment, taking a sip of your drink. “Really? I know you like studying, but… why not make an exception. We can just ask Kiibo or someone else for notes.” Shuichi glanced over to his bed before getting up and taking the notebooks off of it. “Well. You said you’d be with me all day. I know I take notes for you when your working, but I can’t even remember the last time you even showed up to class. Was it the first day?” Oh, damn it. This was not going as planned. And knowing how altruistic Shuichi was, he was not going to let this go till you went to class for at least half the school day to make sure you were not falling behind on your studies. Shuichi then passed the notebooks to you. “Uh, thanks. But today is your birthday. Let’s celebrate today and I’ll come to class tomorrow.” “… No, I… I’d like to spend my birthday like this. I care about you; I don’t want you to start falling behind. A great gift for me is to just see you’re still doing fine.” How… HOW WERE YOU SUPPOSED TO REFUTE SUCH A KIND SENTIMENT!? “Shuichi… You’re much too kind.” UGH, AND EVEN JUST SEEING HIM SMILING SO TENDERLY WAS MELTING YOUR HEART! HOW DID YOU END UP WITH SUCH AN AMAZING GUY!? But exactly because he was amazing, you had to make his birthday great! “Well, I’ll keep true to my word. If you go to class, I’ll follow you.” “Thank you.”

“After coffee, why don’t we get some breakfast? We have to eat something other than candy you know.” He lightly pointed the treats tucked away in one of the many hidden pockets of your trench coat. “Of course, I know! I only go for the sugar rush when I can’t get any good caffeine.” you said as you took out a box of pocky, munching away on the chocolate covered sticks. Shuichi simply stared at you. “… Sometimes!” “Let’s get an actual meal, Y/N.” “But! Before that… Wanna play a game?” For a moment Shuichi wondered what kind of game you had in mind before noticed how you simply held one end of a pocky stick between your teeth. “O-OH! Uh-umm…” You stood up, playfully ruffling Shuichi’s hair before making your way for the door. You stopped, seeing he wasn’t moving. “How come you’re still sitting there? I thought we were going to get breakfast.” Shuichi quickly followed after you, thinking about how to get you back for always making him blush so much from your light teasing and compliments.

Hand in hand you walked towards the school. The chilly wind picked up the red, orange, and yellow leaves tossing a splash of warm color into the cool, cloudy sky, a tinge of pink dusting both of your cheeks. Though you had been dating for a little over a year now, holding hands still sent your hearts a flutter. Both of you though it was a little silly, but you loved it all the same. As the pair of you were discussing about what to have for breakfast, Kaede came charging towards you two, calling out your name. “Akamatsu, is something wrong?” “Yeah! Someone stole the grand piano from my lab!” “… You… what? The grand piano, was stolen?” “Y/N, please, I need your help finding it.” You glanced to Shuichi sheepishly. “Y/N, it’s fine. Let’s go investigate.” “Really, you sure?” “Yes.”

Just as Akamatsu said, the piano was stolen. The small stage in the middle of the room looked rather empty without it. You kneeled down getting a closer look at the stage. “I don’t see any scuff marks, so it doesn’t appear it was forcefully pushed around at any point.” Shuichi ran a hand along the door frame. “I don’t see anything odd here. Akamatsu, when was the last time you saw your piano?” “Last night, right before the school was closed. I was practicing as usual, then the closing bell rang, and I left for my dorm to sleep for the night.” As Shuichi questioned Kaede you quickly fiddled with your phone, checking if any of your classmates had seen it. Shuichi paced over to your side. “The only time someone could have taken it was last night, after the school was closed.” “Hmm, some are still texting back but it seems no one’s seen it, at least as of yet.” “Hey, normally only staff is allowed after school, right?” “… Yeah, you think of something?” “Students can get into the school if they’re injured, to get to the nurse’s office, so it’s possible someone used that as an excuse to get into the school.” True, true.” “But… why would someone steal a grand piano in the first place?” “True. If we knew the motivation, it could be a clue as to where it could have gone.” “Akamatsu, was there anything special or different about the piano?” She crossed her arms and closed here eyes, thinking for a moment. “It’s not the piano itself but Oma threatened to place a prank in the piano for stopping one of his pranks the other day.” Taking a quick glance around the pair of you realized there were no clues to be found, the only lead you had was that statement.

Holding hands, fingers intertwined the pair of you went searching. Kokichi had yet to text back so you doubted he’d respond if you had asked where he currently was. At best he was only slightly cooperative, so you didn’t expect much. Since it was still the morning, the pair of you decided to see if you could catch him at the cafeteria. “Saihara, my favorite barista! Where have you been all morning?” The chef stopped waving from his open window before smirking, his eyes landing on you. “Oh- Y/N, I see. Don’t mind me, you two have fun now.” “Hanamura! Actually, we’d like to talk with you.” Shuichi eagerly dragged you over to Teruteru who looked a bit more smug than usual. You immediately grew worried he had something planned. “Have you seen Oma this morning?” “Why in fact, I have. He was with Gokuhara speaking about something. Going to a park I think?” That took you by surprise. “A park?” “What was it again?... Oh after breakfast they were planning to go to Showa Memorial Park.” “… You have got to be kidding me. The largest park in Tokyo, one-million six-hundred fifty-three thousand square meters.” Initially you were shocked but thinking on it… “That’s actually smart. Not only is the place massive there are also museums and sports facilities, there’s endless places to hide, likely taking us all day to find him, assuming he even bothers to stay in the park and not leave before we can find him.” “It’s also at the edge of Tokyo, it will take a while to even get there.” The pair of you looked to one another understanding the case would come to a standstill if you didn’t go there to search. “A date at the park sounds like a lovely idea! Wait right here a moment you two.” Before Shuichi would protest, Teruteru already ducked back into the kitchen. Quickly Teruteru was already back with a hand basket full of food in plastic containers. “Now off with you two. Make sure you have lots of fun now! Maybe Y/N will have a surprise for you tonight, Saihara.” You quickly dragged Shuichi away before Teruteru could make more obvious implications.

After a rather short train ride the pair of you were at the park. Even just standing at the entrance of the place one could see just how gorgeous it was. The ginkgo and maple trees were absolutely covered in those fiery leaves as well as the ground. The wind picked up, the sounds of chimes and rustling in the air rang out. The greenery was still lush, making the place look so lively. Shuichi could not believe you were looking at your phone instead of that view. Wait… “Y/N? Why are you on your phone? We’re investigating.” “Oh, I was seeing if I could contact Oma.” You quickly switched off your phone and slipped it into your pocket. “He still hasn’t responded since I asked about the piano. So, now we’ll just have to search this entire giant place.”

And so, the pair of you walked around, taking in the never-ending gorgeous sights. “… Maybe we should come here for a proper date some time. It’s gorgeous.” Shuichi glanced over to you, loving the aw in your eyes. “… It is… but not as gorgeous as you.” “Shuichi, that is the most clichéd line I have ever heard.” You gently shook your head while smiling. “It may be clichéd, but it’s true. To me, at least. I love you.” Your cheeks flushed hearing those worlds. “Sh-shush! We have an investigation to be working on.” “I love you.” He kept saying those words over and over, pulling himself closer to you. He himself was blushing, but seeing you so happily flustered from his tender words made it impossible for him to stop. “T-this is payback for earlier, isn’t it!” “… Maybe.” “Damn it, Shuichi!” “I love you.” You melted hearing how softly he said those words. “Lunch break!” “Huh?” “We need a lunch break!” You quickly dragged Shuichi off the path and onto the grassy area, making sure you were leading the way as to make some distance between the two of you, and to hide your blush. You needed a moment to cool off from Shuichi’s sweet antics. “Tch. It’s no wonder I have a sweet tooth, I have the sweetest boyfriend ever. How could I not develop a taste for the stuff.” Though you were mumbling to yourself Shuichi still caught your words, feeling his heart beat just a bit faster at the sentiment behind them.

The pair of you sat by a lake and a field of bright blue, purple, white, and pink flowers. Teruteru was Shuichi’s friend so he didn’t think the chef would lace the food with anything, but what Teru said lingered in the barista’s mind. He also found how quickly the food was prepared to be suspicious, there was even a small blanket and some utensils in the basket as if Teru had prepared this ahead of time. Perhaps his birthday gift to Shuichi was going to be setting him and you up on a picnic date? “Hey, Shuichi.” “Huh!?” He was suddenly snapped from his thoughts hearing your voice and feeling you lean your head on his shoulder. “Think it’s possible Gokuhara and Oma are out on the lake?” “Oh, there are rental boats over there… I think. It’s a bit hard to see.” “Let’s go check it out after this.” “Sure.” For a while after the pair of you simply lay atop the blanket, watching the clouds roll by occasionally snacking on one of your treats.

“It’s a bit wobbly, but you’ll be fine.” You stood on the boat, your arms outstretched for Shuichi, who nervously inched towards the boat, fearing toppling it over and sending you both into the giant lake. It wasn’t like either of you had a change of clothes. “Don’t worry, just hop on.” He held your hands with a viper like grip as you gently pulled him aboard. “See, we’re fine.” “… Yeah, we are. Sorry, for taking so long.” “It’s okay. Just enjoy yourself now that we’re here.” You both promptly sat down, you taking the oars. You rowed and rowed letting Shuichi take in the breath-taking sights. “Oh, actually I think now would be a good time to give you my gift.” “A birthday gift, for me?” “Don’t look so surprised.” You guiltily shrank in your seat a little, looking off to the side. “I knew it was likely I’d get caught up in some mess and not give you my original gift of staying with you all day, so I got you something to make up for that.” You searched through one of your inner coat pockets, taking out a rather large and thick book. There was no title on the front or back. Everything was blank except for the first few pages. The tops of these pages were labeled ‘Tokyo adventures’ Most of it was writings of others about adventures they had with Shuichi in Tokyo, there were even some pictures. “I know you have in interest in travel, so I thought I’d make you a travel journal. I know most others are probably going to get you something related to novels or coffee and I wanted to get you something more… personal? Something others don’t really know about you. I hope it’s okay.” Shuichi gently ran a hand over the cover before placing it in his lap. Then before you knew it, he was hugging you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Thank you, Y/N. I love it.” You leaned your head on his kind of hugging him back without actually doing so, fearing letting go of the oars and said oars sinking into the depths of the lake that lay below, leaving you two stranded out on the lake’s surface never to be found again.

The rest of the day was spent, continuing the search for Oma. You ran through trees, surveyed the lake, searched the museum, watched the flower beds, strolled through the bird sanctuary. The whole time Shuichi clutched that book in his arms, not letting it go for anything. It seemed so sudden when the sun set. You and Shuichi were walking under the cover of trees. “You’re awfully smiley Shuichi.” “Ah, w-well… I did enjoy myself today. I just wish we could have found Akamatsu’s piano.” “It’s entirely possibly she found it while we were out here. I’ll check with her.” You whipped out your phone, quickly blipping about on it. It was then a rather lovely tune began to play. It was one Shuichi recognized. It was a piano piece Kaede had showed him once. A very upbeat and happy song. Though it was an older song, and the names of songs like that tended to be very… “Piano! Y/N, the piano!” “Hmm?” Absorbed by hearing the instrument, Shuichi missed the small smirk that tugged on your lips. “I hear it over there!” Shuichi dragged you along as he raced towards it. Not far in the distance he could see lights flickering on, and a small crowd of people forming near a fountain. As he drew closer and closer, he saw the grand piano and- “Kaede!? Wait- everyone!?” All his friends and classmates were there, Kaede happily tapping away on the keys of the piano. They all screamed variations of ‘happy birthday’ as you and he burst from the wooded path. “I knew something was suspicious! It was clear the piano was not forced from the room so only someone who had knowledge of pianos could dismantle it and take it from the room. And Hanamura having a meal prepared for us! And how you were so relaxed all day despite investigating! You had this all planned!” You looked to the group. “Almost. I had the idea of throwing you a party, but Kaede was supposed to text me when the preparations in the classroom were ready. And I didn’t know Oma was going to lead us here.” As she spoke, Kaede kept playing. “Well, you two so rarely go out on proper dates we thought we’d alter Y/N’s plan a little so you could have just that! A present from all of us, aside from the other presents we got you.”

The evening was spent opening gifts, then sharing food and laughs. Though the party was celebrating him, Shuichi wound up brewing and serving coffee, he found making conversation was much easier when doing so. Unfortunately, there was a mistake and Gonta got decaffeinated beans, so no one was able to stay up all night. Not that it mattered since the park was closing soon.

You ended up falling asleep on the train ride back to Hope’s Peak. Shuichi pulled you close, nervously planting a kiss atop your head before taking out a pencil and writing about his day in his adventure journal. He also wrote of a dream of future adventures, a hope of traveling around the world, helping you solve cases with his detective skills and brewing coffee to keep you going… as your husband.

55 notes · View notes