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taizi · 2 years

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coming right on back for you

part 4 of 5

rise of the tmnt x tmnt 2k12 pairing: leo & mikey, leo & everyone word count: 3714 title borrowed from hurricane by lord huron post-movie

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This time, they’re watching closely, and they don’t miss the flickers of blue light that run across the striped turtle’s skin like tiny electric currents. He’s out cold so it can’t be something he’s doing on purpose. Thankfully, it doesn’t manifest in any other sharp weapons flying out of thin air, which Mikey and Raph agree to take as a win.

Leo’s brow is wrinkled beneath his mask. He lays a careful hand on the kid’s chest and closes his eyes.

Their eldest brother always listened the closest to sensei’s teachings. He absorbed everything—qigong, the healing arts, boryaku, strategy and tactics, seishin teki kyoyo, spiritual refinement. His siblings used to call him a teacher’s pet, overachiever, Splinter Jr. It hurts to think about that now.

Leo wanted so badly to be the perfect son, to honor his family, because he always thought love was something he needed to work for. He had to be good. He had to earn it.

And all those extra hours Leo spent in the dojo, pouring his heart and soul into an unattainable dream, are something his brothers continue to benefit from to this day. It sucks that Leo can’t just stick all of it behind him and move on; they rely on him too much for that.

Wordlessly, Donnie steps back, circling the bed to join Raph on the other side. He glances at Mikey, a silent cue for him to join them and give Leo space, but Mikey presses a little closer instead. Step by careful step, emboldened when he isn’t snubbed immediately. He ends up shoulder-to-shoulder with Leo, and it still feels far away.

So he closes his eyes, too, and reaches for that hazy peripheral plane he’s been to a couple of times before. It’s easy to find his brothers there, their vibrant, colorful qi flickering like candle flames in his mind, but he doesn’t know how to go farther. His vision quest was a long time ago, and that was more about looking in than looking out.

Maybe it’s not too late for Leo to teach him. Maybe if Leo had someone to go with him, he wouldn’t get lost in his head so much.

It takes closer to twenty minutes than ten, but Leo finally opens his eyes. He looks a little bewildered, and pulls his fingers off the striped turtle’s plastron like it’s hot to the touch.

“I saw a woman there,” Leo says, slowly, each word picking its way delicately out of his mouth. “Um—not a ghost. She was there the way—the way sensei is still here.”

“Like a memory?” Don asks carefully.

“More like a presence.” Jumping right over the implications of that before they have a chance to settle, he goes on, “There were a lot of other people with her, and they were all wearing the Hamato clan symbol. I think they might have been Blue’s ancestors. They seemed to be watching over him. She—the woman—isn’t aware of everything that’s going on out here, just what’s in his head. She sensed that he’s frightened and lost, so she’s sticking close. Normally she’s…sleeping? There’s like a—a huge source of qi that Little Blue is tied to. I think it’s where his family’s spirits go to rest. He can draw from their combined qi when he needs help, and that's why he’s…” Leo gestures at the occasional little cyan sparks dancing playfully around the kid’s body. “…even though his own energy is completely exhausted.”

Mikey thinks that’s really nice, actually. Even though he’s in the wrong place, farther away from home than he’s maybe ever been, part of his family came here with him. He doesn’t understand why Donnie and Raph both seem so unsettled by this development.

“So not just a traumatized kid version of Fearless, a haunted traumatized kid version,” Raph says. “Perfect.”

“Not haunted, I said,” Leo starts, a little testy.

“Was she nice?” Mikey interrupts.

His brothers look at him. The potential argument is cut off before it can gain traction.

It’s a softer Leo who says, “Yeah, she was.”

“Did the not-ghost who’s not-haunting the kid have anything else to say?” Raph grumbles, clearly having reached his threshold with the spooky stuff.

“She wasn’t really—talkative. But she said anata wa hitori janai. It seemed important.” Leo rubs a hand over his mouth. He’s smiling a little. “And when I asked who she was, she told me to call her Gram-gram.”

“Gram-gram,” Donnie and Mikey both parrot, in tones of disbelief and delight, respectively.

The whole thing, the whole spiritual encounter, was like a poultice. It soaked all the fear and uncertainty out of the room in the way of draining a wound, and now there’s just regular worry, regular restlessness. Leo seems quieted by what he sensed in that little metaphysical walk he took, comforted by it, and his is always the cue the rest of them follow.

The next time Little Blue wakes up, he’s much less drugged, and much more coherent. Mikey doesn’t even know the kid is conscious until he hears a dull thud from the back of the lab, followed by a hoarse, “And ow.”

“Yeah?” Donnie says, not without sympathy. “That’s what an attempted jailbreak while you’re recovering from multiple traumatic injuries will do to you. Maybe just stay in bed for right now.”

“Not that you’re in jail,” Leo adds quickly. “The doors aren’t locked, you’re not a prisoner. You’re just, um—not in any shape to be moving around.”

“Heard, felt, seen,” croaks Little Blue, breath hitching as he gingerly eases himself into a sitting position. He presses a hand against his plastron with a wince. He’s probably sore all over beneath that built-in armor. “Damn, I was kind of—kind of hoping I’d hallucinated you.” His eyes are sharp despite the muddled confusion and lines of pain on his face; they trail to the side, following the IV tubing to the drip chamber beside his bed. “‘Course, that’s still a possibility.”

“Doc took you off the opioids after you woke up and pulled a knife on us,” Raph says. He’s got a magazine open in his lap that he’s been pretending to read for the last hour, and now he gestures to the sword propped up by Little Blue’s bed. “Once was enough.”

The striped turtle’s expression does something bizarre when he sees Raphael. He looks like he has no idea who he’s looking at, even though the red mask should be a dead giveaway. For a horrible minute, Mikey thinks maybe he’s from a dimension where Raph doesn’t exist—or worse, one where he’s—

“You’re so short!” Little Blue blurts, eyes big and round, his whole person animated with surprise. For the first time since he fell through that yellow portal in Brooklyn, he looks and sounds like a teenager. “I don’t believe it! Am I taller than you?”

He starts to wriggle, like he’s going to hop off the bed and measure his height against Raph’s. Donnie says, “Hey, remember all your broken bones?” and Little Blue only reluctantly subsides. Raphael seems to go through the five stages of grief right in front of Mikey’s eyes.

“You’re taking this really well,” Mikey pipes up, smiling when he gets the kid’s attention. “Have you gone dimension-hopping before?”

Little Blue gazes at him for a moment too long, searching his face. His brow wrinkles a little bit when he doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for. When Mikey tips his head, Little Blue remembers the question with a jolt.

“Uhh, no, can’t say I have,” he says quickly. “I mean, I get the gist. I’ve heard Don’s three AM conspiracy theory on parallel universes about a billion times by now. He’s got a whole corkboard setup in his room, it’s equal parts pathetic and amazing. And, you know, we sort of just created an alternate timeline back home? So, whatever.”

His fixedly unimpressed attitude isn’t taking him as far as he probably hopes. Mikey knows exactly what he’s doing—he’s seen it before. It’s what Mikey used to do. Patch on a smile and make a joke. It’s the maladaptive defense mechanism that lasted the longest out of all of the fun little neuroses Mikey’s volatile childhood left behind as souvenirs.

“Very much not whatever,” Donnie replies, and reaches over to pick a clipboard off the counter. He takes extensive notes for his own benefit, but in this case, it’s a useful tool in proving his point.

Blue takes it from him and starts flipping through the pages in the manner of a person familiar with medical charts. It kind of throws Mikey off a little bit, because it’s a very Donnie-like personality trait and not a very Leo-like one.

The longer the kid reads, the more incredulous his expression becomes. He gets halfway through the third page and that seems to be enough.

“Bullshit,” he blurts. Then, incredibly, he darts a swift, guilty look at Raph, of all people. Like Raph is going to be the one to tell him off for cussing? Please, in what universe? “I mean, uh, balderdash. There’s no way this is—I wouldn’t have survived this. Even if you’d rushed me to an ER with doctors who were totally cool about operating on a mutant, no questions asked, and didn’t mind having zero earthly understanding of their patient’s physiology and no medical history to cross-reference.” He pauses and squints. “Is that what you did?”

Don looks like he might laugh. He doesn’t normally engage with strangers quite like this, even familiar alternate-self ones. Mikey doesn’t know how to articulate, in his own head, why it’s nice to see him smiling at their little guest, but it really is.

“No, Blue, unfortunately we don’t know of any ER quite like that.” Something surprised and pleased darts into the kid’s face when he hears the nickname. A little wondering, Don ventures to ask, “Are you the team medic?”

“Always have been,” Little Blue says, clearly wrong-footed by the question. He sets the clipboard on the bed beside him. “I’ve hauled around a first aid kit since I was like nine. Donnie—my Donnie—he’s got that big ol’ brain, but he’s into machines, not people. And he has this sensory thing, it’d be unfair to make him, you know, touch icky stuff. And Raph and Mikey are both somehow simultaneously the toughest and the squishiest people I’ve ever met. It wouldn’t be fair to them either. So, me.”

“God, it’s universal,” Raph says, which is sort of along the lines of what Mikey was thinking—that every Leo everywhere, when he finds any need, any hole in the team, will just change himself to fill it.

“Anyway!” Little Blue says brightly. “These charts are wrong and I’m good to go. So it’s been real, but I’ve gotta scoot. Places to be. I’m a turtle in high demand.”

Oh, so this whole conversation has been a red herring, Mikey thinks. Noted.

Blue hops off the bed and staggers even though he lands on his good foot, going two shades paler with pain. But before any of them can so much as reach out to steady the kid, he’s regained both equilibrium and that devil-may-care grin. At a glance it’s impossible to find the false edges of it.

Donnie says, just a little bitchy, “I think I know how to chart injuries. And clearly, you hurt, which is your body’s natural, built-in, “stop jumping around, you idiot” warning signal.”

“It can’t be that bad,” the kid shoots back, “‘cause I feel fine now, and if I had even half of what you wrote down there, I’d be in a coma, breathing through a straw.”

“And you would be, if Leo didn’t use his healing hands!” Raph barks. It sounds angry, and it makes Blue draw up short, but Mikey can hear the worry in it clear as day. None of them like to see their big brother actively hurting himself—even this smart-mouthed, pint-sized version of their big brother.

“Healing hands?” Little Blue asks warily.

Leo moves closer to stand right in front of him. Blue can’t seem to look him in the eye for whatever reason, gaze darting down and away and finally finding a place to rest on Leo’s hands when he lifts them into the first seal.

He moves more slowly than usual, each gesture deliberate and precise. As familiar as he is with his brother and this particular technique, Mikey can sense the energy building up like pressure before a storm, on a smaller, more condensed scale. It prickles across his skin, never seeking to harm, only to help.

“Are we in Naruto?” Blue quips half-heartedly, then goes absolutely still when Leo reaches for him.

Leo doesn’t touch, just leaves his hands outstretched between them and waits for Blue to close the distance. It can’t be comfortable, holding onto all that qi that he’s channeled that wants someplace to go, but he holds it anyway, as steady and implacable as he’s been Mikey’s whole life.

Blue hesitates just long enough to look past Leo at the rest of them. His eyes fly to Donnie first, then slide away to Raph—they want to linger there, for some reason, but they don’t. His gaze comes to land on Mikey, where it stays longest, and Mikey smiles warmly at him.

“Go on,” he nudges. “It’s neat.”

It’s enough. Blue scoffs a little, but he does take Leo’s hands in both his own, cast and all. His eyes get big and wide as he feels the healing start to happen almost immediately, that energy rushing through his meridians and settling in his dantian, before flowing out to whatever specific wound Leo is directing it to.

When Leo is done, he gives a little tug on their joined hands and then lets go. Blue looks absolutely gobsmacked, and tentatively puts pressure on his bad leg. When it doesn’t make him wince, he stands on it normally, then hops in place a couple of times, and at that point he gazes up at Leo with literal stars in his eyes.

“How!” he demands.

“Looks like one cast has been rendered obsolete,” Donnie says, already turning to find any one of his power tools that would be able to buzz through the fiberglass like butter.

“And after all the effort Mike put into it, too,” Raph adds from the peanut gallery.

“Call it a good faith gesture,” Leo says wryly. For all that he and Blue don’t seem to know how to act around each other, he’s clearly fond of the kid. Or maybe fondness isn’t the right word. There’s something wistful and affectionate about his expression when he looks at their little guest, something Mikey isn’t sure he knows how to name. “To prove that I really did heal you, and you really…you were in serious danger of not being okay. Now that your leg is healed you’re free to move around, but I’m asking you to take it easy.”

It’s typical of Leonardo to be so hypocritical from such a genuine, good-natured place. Mikey can’t think of one single time in their entire lives when Leo was given a choice between jumping into action and taking it easy and he actually chose to take it easy.

Clearly it doesn’t sit right with Blue either. His immediate, knee-jerk reaction is one of open bewilderment, like the idea of just doing as he’s told and climbing back into bed is so absurd he’s surprised any of them were willing to say it out loud. Right on the heels of that confusion comes frustration, so bright and hot it’s like staring into the sun.

“I can’t,” he says. “I have to go home.”

“We haven’t figured out a way to get you back home yet,” Donnie interjects. His tone is firm but not unkind. Blue gives him a dismissive look anyway.

“I know how to get there myself,” he says, every inch a harassed teenager. “I’ll just go through the Hidden City.”

Mikey opens his mouth to ask the obvious question—what is the Hidden City, and is it as cool as it sounds—but Raph beats him to it. “Is this about the fight you were in? The thing you escaped from? You think it’s still a threat?”

Blue’s expression is on the verge of crumbling. “I didn’t escape anything. My brothers saved me. That gold light—it was them, I’m sure it was. But if I got out, then that monster might have gotten out with me, and I don’t—I don’t know if—”

“Your brothers would want you to be okay,” Donnie says, with all the authority of a younger sibling who has only ever wanted his big brother to be okay.

It’s the breaking point. Blue shatters.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m okay!” he shouts, hurling the awful truth as he knows it at them like he’s flinging knives. “I’m the family fuck-up alright? The world almost ended and it was my fault! My big brother could have died because of me! All I do is screw everything up at every turn, every chance I get!”

He’s miserable and it’s hard to watch, it’s loud and ugly and comes wrenching out from some place in the very center of him, someplace raw and honest. It’s a wound that needs healing as much as the punctured lung and broken ribs did, but this isn’t something one of Splinter’s ancient techniques can fix.

Mikey’s hands are half-raised in front of him. He wants so badly to help but he doesn’t know how. There’s no way to catch and contain any of this. There’s no way to hold it. He has no idea how Little Blue has been holding it.

“Dad made me the leader and didn’t tell me why and I didn’t want it! I never wanted that! I thought if I didn’t take it seriously, if I messed up and goofed off enough, he’d take it away and give it back to Raph, but he didn’t. So I was the one leading us and I was the one who nearly got us all killed and even when I tried to—to fix it, to be a hero like I’m supposed to be—I messed up again. They had to save me. And now I don’t know if they’re—”

He’s panting now, his battered body struggling to catch up to this marathon of fear and self-hatred and uncertainty. His hands are shaking and his chest is heaving and his eyes are glassy.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m okay,” he says again, really meaning it. “It matters that they are. And I won’t know if they are until I go home. So I have to go home.”

“Okay,” Mikey says at once. He steps forward carefully, even though all his instincts tell him to spring forward and scoop him into a hug and never let him go. “We’ll take you home. I’ll carry you there myself if I have to, I promise.”

Little Blue’s mouth is trembling, like he wants to just give in and start bawling, but of course he doesn’t. He nods at Mikey, maybe just as an excuse to dip his head and shove the heel of his good hand into his eyes even though he hasn’t cried properly yet.

“It was my fault,” he repeats. It seems important to him that they understand that.

“I know it feels that way,” Leo says, very gently. “Believe me, I know.”

There’s an expression on his face Mikey almost doesn’t recognize, for all that it’s familiar. Leo has looked at each of his brothers like that a million times, but he’s never ever shown himself a sliver of that same kindness.

“But Leo,” he adds, the first time his tiny counterpart has been called by name since he got here, “you’re just a kid.”

It’s something someone probably should have said to Leonardo, back when he was fifteen years old and already carrying the world on his shoulders; acting as a second parent to his siblings, inheriting his place in a war their father never should have passed down, always trying to be everything he needed to be for everyone else. Always trying to be good.

Maybe that’s why he’s been so weird around Blue, Mikey realizes, in the tidy little corner of his mind that isn’t preoccupied with the way his heart is literally breaking. It must be strange for him to look at this devastated, grief-stricken teenager and recognize himself.

“Stay a little bit longer,” Leo barters. “I’ll teach you the healing hands. You’ll be an even better medic for your family once you can practice qigong.”

“And you can tell me about the Hidden City,” Mikey adds brightly, his tone at odds with the nervous way he’s wringing his fingers together.

“I still need to get the cast off your leg,” Donnie says, brandishing an ominous-looking oscillating multi-tool. His red eyes are very gentle, even if his smile is a little ironic. “Also, I think I really want to know more about my counterpart’s conspiracy corkboard.”

Blue hesitates, on the verge of accepting their help, not certain if he should be allowed to.

“Anata wa hitori janai,” Raph says gruffly, arms folded, as if that will disguise how much he clearly cares about this boy. “Right?”

He didn’t miss it, that bit somewhere in the middle of Blue’s meltdown when he mentioned Raphael as his leader and his older brother. And it makes sense now, perfect sense, why the kid always seemed to look toward Raph first. It’s the way Mikey always looked to Leo first—playmate, confidant, best friend, guardian, protector. Like recognizes like.

Raph didn’t miss it, and he acts on it now, in true Raph fashion. Repeating that thing the kid’s Gram-gram said, even though he doesn’t jibe with spooky spiritual stuff, just because Leo said it sounded important and Raph thinks it might help.

From the look on Blue’s face, it helps. When tears finally drip down his striped cheeks, he’s smiling, and Mikey thinks it’s the first real one he’s given them in the whole time he’s been here. Lopsided and charming because it isn’t picture-perfect.

“Right,” he says, leaning into the arm Mikey wraps around his shoulders. “That’s right.”

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt movie #tmnt 2k12 #hamato leonardo #hamato michelangelo #my writing #tmnt fic #coming right on back for you

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mysterypond · 2 years

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Prompt thing, if u will:

Pariging knife against throat orrrr the tending to wounds one/glad you're alive one. How are they so versatile?

I had a lot of fun with the knife prompt, wrote something a bit artsier than I normally do. I hope you enjoy it! I have it on ao3 as well if you prefer to read there.

He was falling. Lungs burning as he gaped for air where there was none. It was cold, suffocating, dark, and while not like his expectations, its own form of hell. Is this how it ends? Alone in the world, so desolated that not even a scream can escape the void?

“What the fuck did you do?!”

Pariston’s head was swimming, vision coming back in time to lock eyes with the man straddling to pin him down in the lifeboat.

Ging’s eyes burned with a vivacious flame, and never more had Pariston felt like he was made of wax, feeling the droplets drip down the sides of his face and body onto the wood beneath him.

Pariston glanced down, yet he could not see his reflection in the blade pressed ever so slightly against his neck.

He could feel it. Cold. Sharp. Dangerous.

“What do you mean?” he played coyly. Ging’s grip adjusted against the knife, unsure of how to hold as he’d inevitably plunge it into his neck. Good. Drive it through. Pariston curled the corners of his mouth into a smile. He was excited, but not about death, no, he wasn’t that type of person, no matter what Ging would say.

Ging refused to commit violence against him, said something about his nature, and it frustrated him. Could he know? Who would have told?

Coincidence and cowardice were lovers in the night.

He’s on the boat. Ging has a lot of meetings. Pariston sits in on every one of them. It unsettles Ging, as much as he pretends to ignore him while talking to the others. He has all sorts of vague plans for what they’re going to do when they get to the Dark Continent, but most of the details are left in the air, almost as if he’s willing to improvise should something happen.

Ging's smart, but he's an idiot. It's not a paradox. Pariston sits and listens, absorbing every detail no matter how miniscule. It drives Ging insane. He lets him stick around, to "keep an eye on him", but who's really watching who?

The days tick by. There's commotion on board, on the other decks.

Everything is moving into position.

Do unto others what has been done on to you.

The knife lays by his throat, one wrong move and it would pierce through the skin, maybe through some of the muscles and if he was lucky, it’d go deep enough to cause some serious damage.

But to who?

Ging’s eyes betrayed his fear, his uncertainty, his frantic anxiety, things he’d learned to hide with his body language. But the eyes were the window to the soul, and Pariston was one to peek through the curtains.

“Don’t think I’m letting you off easy.” Ging pulled the knife off Pariston’s throat, yet he felt more suffocated now than when he was underwater. “Killing you is the easy way out.”

He lifted himself off Pariston, and he felt so, so cold. The flame inside him was dying, and it needed to be kindled.

“You seem so sure of that,” Pariston said, voice betraying his frustration at Ging’s lack of action.

He hears the awful, horrid hissing noise first. A shrill, inhumane shriek into the cold night air.

And then it happens.

He suddenly can't hear anymore, ears ringing as if to mockingly taunt him. What was once a marvel of human engineering, the ability to provide habitation and safety for humans to traverse the waters, was now a prison of its own making.

He's sinking. There's no way to escape. No windows, no light, nothing to indicate anywhere he should go.

Hopeless.

His head is throbbing. He can feel the gash against his fingertips when he brings it up.

He's running out of time.

“It's way out, for you. The real journey is just beginning. There are fates worse than death,” said Ging. “You would know, wouldn’t you?” He put the knife back on his belt, and for the first time Pariston stole a glimpse of his own reflection. Blond hair wet and pushed against his forehead in strands, shivering, gaunt face. A gash, on his left temple, blood beginning to crust along the edges.

He almost didn’t recognize himself.

That in itself was almost a fate worse than death. Almost.

“And is one of those fates being stuck here with you?” asked Pariston, looking out over the horizon. The sun was beginning to rise, setting the water before them aflame. Bits of scattered debris laid everywhere as far as his eyes could see.

Ocean, boat, sky, clouds, the sun, and oh, of course Ging was here too.

Of course he was here.

“You tell me.”

#pariston hill #ging freecss #pariging #hxh #hunter x hunter #writing x writing #wil x wil

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parklove · 6 months

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HEADCANON 003. physique

an unnecessarily long and detailed breakdown of love park's physical appearance

HAIR : love’s hair is smooth and straight but very thick. while generally easy to manage, it does take more effort to get a thorough wash and longer time to dry. for a majority of their childhood, their hair was kept black or browns that were a few shades lighter to maintain a certain “look” for the roles they played. at most, blue streaks were added during the filming of next but never much more than that. since their break from hollywood, love began bleaching and dying their hair regularly, maintaining a sandy to natural blond shade and also tried pink a couple times. they prefer this look and associate the natural dark colors to bad memories. hair is the one thing that is unaffected by love's vampirism so they take extra care of it with high-end brands and treatments to maintain fair health.

EYES : she has big, doe eyes and long lashes to frame them, often the first thing that's noticed when people meet love face-to-face. she plays around with makeup and will usually match to the outfit for the day, but mostly opts for a soft makeup look with pink/peach, reds or light brown eyeshadow and light glitter. love's eyes have an almost "glassy" appearance to them, giving a permanent "sparkle" which only adds to the "ethereal, straight-out-a-fairytale" vibe. they are also extremely dark but when caught in direct light, they can be seen actually being very deep red in color, falling more in the maroon or mahogany category than brown. other unnatural components about love's eyes is the fact that they’re reflective like an animal's and when she hasn't fed in a while, her eyes tend to fade to a lighter/duller color.

MOUTH : love’s lips are a bit on the smaller side with an exaggerated cupid’s bow, and a pouty lower lip. he smiles a lot in a relaxed, half-grin that grows when he's excited or amused; showing perfectly aligned and very white teeth with slight but notably sharp incisors and canines that appear like small fangs― which they are, of course, but they’re retracted in this state and only fully exposed for feeding. love also wears lip gloss constantly and likes to suck on lollipops often so he almost always smell and taste like candy. with smooth but a little cold (pay no mind to that) lips, it's recommend to give him a little kiss… just to test it out!

FEATURES : their nose is strong and tall, cheekbones high, jawline sharp and face proportioned in nearly perfect thirds as well. checking off the boxes for “conventionally attractive”, “masculine” features but overall has a soft appearance still, love earned spots in lists such as "the most attractive faces in the world" and "sexiest men alive" in various media publications throughout their career.

HANDS : love tends to talk a lot with her hands so they’re constantly moving and animating whatever story she's telling; and they’re pretty hands too. her fingers are long and slender with a good reach and nails that are always well-manicured. love hasn't done a lot of heavy manual labor in her life and take good care of herself so her skin is very smooth and almost always smell of coconut lotion― but of course, she's notably cold, as if she's been out in the snowy weather despite living in los angeles (but if you hold them long enough, love's hands will warm up!)

SKIN : he is tan as you would expect the stereotypical californian to be and you could search every inch of him but won’t find a single blemish or flaw due to his vampirism. the only downside to this is when love realized any piercings or tattoos would also heal and disappear at rapid speeds. just like his hands, the rest of their skin feels smooth but tends to be a bit cold. despite this, love blushes easily that you would think he run warm. this can be blamed on the vampirism's unnatural way of appearing more alive and human― at times, it can seem too much and even unsettling.

BUILD : their build is definitely more on the slender / slim side but still has mostly muscle mass and kept in healthy shape for their acting roles (now, their peak physique is permanent). love naturally has a small frame but broader shoulders than expected which makes their waist and hips seem even smaller than they already are. their body is rather disproportionate when taken into consideration but it works out for them. two - thirds of love's total length is due to their legs which give them a lanky, tall look despite only being average height, and they naturally have a build that seems straight out a magazine. strangely, they feel heavier than you’d expect. love feels very solid, like trying to push over an athlete that’s been doing intensive bodybuilding daily for years.

#hc

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nsheetee · 3 years

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One Foot in the Golden Life

Pairing: rich kid!renjun x caddie!reader Genre: rich kid AU, university au, romance, slight angst, mature content Length: 9.7k Summary: this is the story of a boy who is constantly pushed down by his father, a girl who just wants to not live paycheck to paycheck, and how they met on a golf course. Warnings/Details: includes mentions of other NCT members, female reader, swearing, inaccurate depiction of golf, acts of sexual harassment towards the reader, mature content (unprotected sex, coming inside, oral [female receiving])

a/n: a big thank you to @insomni-writing for beta reading this ♡ also, if you are a minor, please beware that there is mature content in this fic!

You thought it would be the perfect opportunity to work at the most well-known country club in the state, but really the only thing your job brought you was perpetual cold to your hands and feet, and entangled your simple life with one of the youngest and richest bachelors at your university.

The only place on top of Mt. Carla is the Augusta Country Club, and it is a sight to see by the regular people who gaze up at it from the city below, like mortals looking up into the Gods’ chamber. The first time you went up the mountain for your job interview at the club, you got lost and were almost late. Thankfully, you didn’t crash your car on the winding roads, and got the job as well.

The Augusta Country Club is equipped with the largest and most expensive golf course in the region, but also has Michilin approved restaurants and the finest saunas and gym equipment any CEO could ask for. Those are usually the type of people that have club memberships: CEO’s, congress men and women, top-notch lawyers, and maybe the odd business owner that made it big enough to afford the price tag.

When you took up the job as a caddie, you had an idea of what you were getting yourself into. You’ve only been working for a month, but there are already a few regular golf players that prefer you as their caddie, which in your book is a success considering the type of high profile people that come to relax here.

However, today is different.

You can sense it when Kara and Mina, your coworkers who have been working here for a year longer than you, walk towards you and your friend, Lia, before your shift today. Mina has a small stack of info cards in her hands and they both hold smug smiles on their faces. The info cards have everything a caddie needs to know about who they’ll be working for that shift, and by the looks of it, today’s game will have a good match up.

“I’m going to be Mr. Huang’s son’s caddie. Don’t even fight me on this, you know I’ll win.” Kara states boldly as the two girls stop in front of you, snatching an info card out of Mina’s hand when she holds them up like she’s playing a card game, flashing the photos and names on the cards at you.

“I call dibs on Mr. Lee’s son.” Mina hums, not even bothering to keep up the act that they just want to be good caddies. “You two can have the old men.” She smiles tightly, shoving the other two info cards into Lia’s grasp and turning on her heel to walk away with Kara.

Considering you don’t even know what they’re talking about, you have no right to be mad at them. There is more confusion clouding your mind than anger at their rudeness. However, Lia does not share the same sentiment.

“I’ll shove these info cards up their-” Lia fumes, her volume rising as the sentence went on, and you quickly pulled her out of ear shot, around a corner by the bathrooms. “-stuck up two faced asses!”

“Lia…” You mutter, her wording making you shake your head at how unstable her temper is, “They’ve been working here for a lot longer than we have, just let them have those clients. Either way, what’s it to you?”

“What’s it to me? ___, they’re talking about Lee Jeno and Huang Renjun. I know I told you about them before.” Lia states like she expects you to have those two names tattooed on the front lobe of your brain already.

“I think I remember them…. They go to our University, right?” You try to regurgitate your friend’s rambles from months ago out of your head.

“Yeah, business department.” She sighs dreamily, as if the business department is the sexiest thing on campus. “This might be our only chance to shoot our shot.” You can’t help but grimace a bit.

“It can be your chance to shoot your shot. Leave me out of this.” You randomly grab an info card out of Lia’s hands, turning it around to see Mr. Huang Lijun’s photo staring back at you. You send Lia one last look, walking around her to go change in the dressing rooms.

“Aw, you’re no fun.” You hear her whine, her footsteps echo through the hallway as she comes up behind you. She almost knocks you into the wall from how forcefully she grabs onto your arm and swings it back and forth like you’re two little kids on your way to the playground.

“Maybe we can shoot our shot at the old men?” You and Lia stop walking, turning to face each other for a moment of silence. You blink at each other as if you’re both considering it, before erupting into laughter at the ridiculous thought and continue walking down the hallway.

You and Lia constantly joke around about finding rich sugar daddies at work to pay for your college tuition, but both of you know you’ll never actually commit to the idea fully. Neither of you will admit it, but you both know you don’t have the guts to do something like that.

By the time you, Lia, and your other coworkers change into uniform and gather your supplies for the Lee vs. Huang game, it’s already 10am. The air is crisp and cool, the signs of fall creep along your skin and taint the deep green trees in light oranges and yellows.

Despite the chill, you and your coworkers still wear skirts, long sleeve v-necks, and puffy vests; the only thing keeping your feet warm is a pair of short white socks and tennis shoes. You don’t mind the chill knowing that once the game starts you’ll be moving around enough to get warm. You stop thinking about your cold toes as soon as the door of the country club opens and the Lees and Huangs walk out.

The first time you lay eyes on Huang Renjun, you think your heart might stop.

You know it’s him because he walks close to his father as they make their way to where you’re standing by the golf carts. He has obviously dyed blonde color, his dark roots proof of that; it’s neatly gelled back in an effortless way with the light wind blowing a few of the locks gently as if an angel is personally moving them for him. His white jacket and black pants are slim and look like they cost more than all of your college textbooks this semester. He walks with his head high, his pretty, pink lips set in a straight line, and his almond eyes gentle.

Okay, so... maybe you understand the hype now.

“Good evening, ladies.” Mr. Lee announces, looking at you and your coworkers. You all politely introduce yourself and state who you’ll be caddying for.

Huang Lijun isn’t as tall as his son, but he looks to be more lively than Renjun, even at his age. He has a permanent smile on his lips and you can feel a friendly demeanor radiating from him when you approach.

“Good Morning, sir. Let me take those off of your hands.” You politely grab the bag of clubs from him, feeling shy as his gaze doesn’t leave your face the entire time.

“You’re new here, right? I feel like I would remember you if I saw you before.” You’re surprised when he suddenly pinches your cheek, and he laughs at your shocked face. An unsettled feeling plants itself at the bottom of your stomach at the unwarranted touch.

“I’ve only been working here for a month, sir.”

“I think I’ll be coming around here more often, then.” He winks at you and turns to go sit in the front seat of the golf cart. You can’t help but let the feeling at the bottom of your stomach grow at how the older man looks at you. You definitely misjudged his “friendly” demeanor. Your eyes can’t help but glance at Renjun, who’s standing a few feet away from the whole interaction. He gives you a blank stare before turning and following his father.

In the past few weeks, you had gotten many lustful smiles and lewd gazes at your bare legs, but also many dollars in tips just in one morning by letting those smiles and gazes happen. The need to make ends meet justifies it all, and the cash you earn at the end of every shift only fuels this need.

The ride from the club’s main building to the first hole is short, so you quickly recompose yourself. You still have a job to do— a job you’re being paid lots of money for. You believe in your strong will to put up with whatever antics Mr. Huang pulls for the next few hours. Upon arrival at the first hole, you pull the bag of golf clubs out of the cart and follow in Mr. Huang’s quick footsteps, suddenly feeling sweaty from the exercise you’re getting by carrying these heavy clubs. When your group reaches the first hole, you set the bag down on the ground and press your hand over your face, but Mr. Huang’s voice startles you.

“Woah, there.” You jump and face him. “Those clubs cost more than my car, and unlike my car, they don’t deserve to be on the ground, darling.”

“Yes, sir. I apologize.” You smile shyly and pick up the clubs from the ground, your shoulders already straining to keep them up. ‘They weigh as much as a car,’ you huff.

This is going to be a long game.

“You kids can clean the carts today,” Mina suddenly throws a keychain at Lia’s face, she barely catches it before it hits her, “I have plans.”

“Me, too.” Kara quickly says, following after Mina as they both walk away. The game ended right at lunchtime (the Lees won) and now you and your coworkers are back at the club. It’s supposed to be everyone’s job to clean the golf carts after they’ve been used, but it looks like today it’ll just be you and Lia… Maybe.

“___, please. I’m going to be late to the cafe, my boss there is already mad at me.” Lia turns to you and begs with her hands clasped in front of her chest, eyes pleading and feet bouncing. You sigh; you’re hungry and your muscles are sore, and all you want to do is go home as quickly as you can. Still, you roll your eyes and take the golf cart keys from her, making her face crack open into a smile as she hugs you quickly.

“I’ll bring you coffee on Monday!” She screams at you as she practically runs away, leaving you with two golf carts to clean. You sluggishly begin, crawling into the cart the Huangs were sitting in when you find a small notebook laying on one of the seats. Picking it up to examine it, you find out it’s your university’s yearly planner, a book that everyone gets at the beginning of every academic year. Along the binder reads “Huang Renjun” and your eyes widen, immediately looking up to glance at the direction that Renjun walked off to a while ago.

Your legs move quickly through the corridors of the club, moving past changing rooms, saunas, and bathrooms, the planner tightly clutched in your hand. Your head is on a swivel and your lower lip is stuck between your teeth, until you hear a door open and slam shut behind you, making you turn your head to catch Renjun walking out of a changing room.

“Mr. Huang!” You call out.. Renjun freezes at the name, spinning on his heel to see you walking towards him.

“Sorry to disturb you, but you left your planner on the golf cart.” You hold it out for him, but he doesn’t take it.

“How do you know it’s a planner? Did you look through it?” You blink at him, stunned, and then glance down at the notebook. You’re surprised by the sudden questions and at the same time annoyed that Renjun accused you of snooping through his things so quickly. The image you had of him earlier, graceful, classy, and attractive, slips out of your mind as he stares down at you. However, this is the first time he’s directly talking to you, and you can’t help the spark that ignites in your belly from the roughness in his voice. It’s higher-pitched, but unpolished and jagged as he speaks with you.

“No. I go to the same University. I have the same one.” You explain. Renjun’s stare turns into shock.

“Really? Which department?”

“Fine Arts. I study Studio Art.” At first you think that you’re seeing things, but after blinking, you can guarantee that Renjun has jealousy painted on his face. It’s so sour that he looks away, trying to preoccupy his hands by fiddling with his bag. “So, are you going to take this, or…?”

“Yeah,” The bitterness drips from his tone, but you have a feeling it’s not directed at you, “Thank you for returning it.” He finally accepts it and turns to his bag, taking out his wallet. The cards inside look thick and heavy; memberships to places you’ll never step foot in and credit cards with limits you could never even imagine. Your pride tells you that you don’t need anything he could give you, so you silently turn around and walk away.

Renjun shuffles through some crisp 10’s and 20’s, but when he looks up to give you the tip, you’re already down the hallway and halfway out the door. You have golf carts to clean.

The next time you see Renjun is a week after the last game. The chilly weather remains, along with the useless uniform you have to wear, but this time around you’re not Mr. Huang’s caddie, you’re Renjun’s.

Kara walks next to you with Mr. Huang’s heavy golf clubs, her lips straight and head turned away from you to show her annoyance at how the caddie match up situation went this week. You’re sure to get an earful about this for at least the next few days, but you kind of like this revenge that fate dealt Kara. Either way, it’s not like there’s anything you can do about the match up. Renjun requested you to be his caddie this week, and you weren’t going to risk your bosses being angry with you by denying the request.

“Driver.” Renjun’s voice pulls you into the game. You pull out the correct golf club and put it into his awaiting hand, your fingertips brushing with his. “Aren’t you cold?” The words shock you, considering they’re the first words Renjun spoke to you today other than commands for golf clubs.

“I-I’m fine, Mr. Huang.” You respond promptly.

“Don’t call me that.” His tone is icy, and he quickly realizes how unnecessary it is to bite at you like that, “Just call me Renjun.” His father walks back from his shot, looking very smug. Renjun’s face is calm as he trades spots with his father and prepares for his first swing of the day, correcting his posture and loosening his limbs.

You remember the first time you saw him, how elegant and poised he looked. Your cold hands break into a sweat as your chest heats up from the quick beating of your heart. Renjun has only been icy and accusing towards you so far, yet you still feel warm while thinking about him. There has to be something wrong with you.

“Doesn’t my son look like he knows what he’s doing?” Mr. Huang asks from beside you, a small, unnerving smile on his lips.

“Yes, sir.” You reply back with your own, more innocent, smile.

“I taught him everything he knows about golf…. And women.” Mr. Huang leans into you, turning his chest to face you so that his breath is hitting your cheek. You can’t help but swallow to relieve your dry and cold throat, keeping your eyes forward as Renjun swings his club back and forth a bit in preparation.

“Yes, sir.” The only thought on your mind is to stop this man from stepping closer.

“Is that the only thing you can say?”

Renjun swings his arm back, breathing in as he keeps his eyes on the small white ball and his hopes in the green before him. Mr. Huang’s right hand is warm on your waist, but you would give anything to freeze right now.

A sharp crack ripples through the air as Renjun hits the golf ball and sends it flying into the golf course. His eyes are not where the ball lands, but instead on where his father touches you.

Renjun’s mom died when he was not even three days old.

He never got to meet her— to lay on her chest and hold her finger with his whole hand. He’ll never know what advice she would’ve given him when he got his first girlfriend, and he’ll never know how she would’ve reacted to him crashing his first car when he was 17. He only knows that his mom would’ve been there for him through all of that, unlike his father, who was not.

Renjun has had “mothers” through his life; three, to be exact. The first was when he was 5 years old, and she quickly asked for a divorce after Renjun’s dad went on a three month business trip and she didn’t hear from him the whole time. The second “mother” was a bit more mature than the first and with a lot more time on her hands. She wanted to shape 9 year old Renjun into a perfect student, which was something Renjun’s father appreciated, but still divorced her for “being too strong-headed.” Renjun only met his third mother twice when he was 13: once at the wedding and the second time at her funeral. He didn’t ask any questions, he wasn’t very interested in the first place.

These were the type of people Renjun spent his life around, but they really weren’t his mothers. The only similarity he had with those women was his father, and he treated them as poorly as he treated Renjun. That’s why when Renjun looks at you, cowering away from the very man who is his only link to family, he feels sick.

When is his dad going to stop being a fucking predator? How young does he want his next conquest to be? Will Renjun’s next mom be the same age as him? Something swirls in the pit of his stomach when he watches his father and it takes a moment for him to figure out what it is: jealousy. He’s not sure why he’s feeling jealous over someone he just met last week, but the feeling engulfs his whole chest and it burns him to his spot.

Renjun doesn’t even notice that he swung his golf club or that the golf ball went somewhere far into the green, probably an overshot. He only sees you, afraid of the man touching you but not stepping away. Why aren’t you stepping away?

“Nice job, Renjun.” His best friend, Jeno, claps a hand on his back as he steps up, hitting Renjun back into reality and forcing him to walk towards you. As Renjun approaches, his father slyly takes his hand away, and Renjun notices how you let out a relieved sigh. Giving you back his driver, Renjun strategically stands between you and his father, pretending to watch Jeno swing.

“Good job… Renjun.” You whisper, unsure about calling him by his first name so informally.

“Thank you.” Renjun sends a side glance to his father to see the displeased look on his face. “How was that, Dad?” Renjun hopes that maybe he can remind his father of why he’s here (to win against the Lees this week, not to feel up a girl 30 years younger than him) but in this moment, his father is acting like a 5 year old in the middle of a silent tantrum, not a 50 year old who runs the most successful construction company in the country.

“I’ve taught you better than that.” Renjun is sure they’re not talking about golf anymore, the authoritative tone in his father’s voice sends a lightning bolt of surprise and slight fear down Renjun’s back. He hates how he gets scared, he hates how his father can control him. The fury churns in the pit of his stomach as he accepts his father’s words with a bow of his head.

One day, Renjun swears he won’t submit anymore.

After the game ended with the Lees winning once again, you, Lia, and your other coworkers convene at the golf carts after the clients leave to change inside the club.

“You ladies know the drill.” Kara throws both sets of golf cart keys at you before walking off with Mina. You push Lia towards the entrance of the building before she even has a chance to turn around and open her mouth.

“You should get to the cafe before your boss throws another fit.” Lia turns back to face you, her jaw slightly slack and her eyes shining.

“You’re seriously the best. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, just give me a few extra shots in my coffee on Monday.” Lia laughs at that, grabbing your face between her two small, manicured hands and kissing you on each cheek before hopping off inside. You can’t help but be amused at her antics, turning to the golf carts in front of you to start cleaning.

“They make you clean the carts by yourself?” The voice startles you, not because you weren’t expecting it but because it’s Renjun’s. You turn your head over your shoulder, he’s standing just a few feet away still in his golfing gear from earlier.

“Uh, not usually, no. But my coworkers haven’t been happy with me lately.” You explain, fully turning to him and crossing your arms over your chest to tuck your cold hands into your sides.

“The ones who have been working here for a while?” You nod as an answer, and Renjun nods back in understanding, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “They’ve been trying to get with me and my best friend for a while...” Renjun trails off when he sees your eyebrows raise at the comment, “... But that’s not what I came here to talk about.”

“Oh? What are you here for?” The conversation has gotten too informal for a worker and their client to be having, but you kind of like talking to Renjun in this casual setting.

“I realized that the past few times we’ve talked I’ve been such a dick.” He laughs lightly as he remembers, “I wanted to apologize for that. I wasn’t in a good mood last week and this morning, and I ended up pushing it on you.”

Renjun feels lots of emotions when it comes to you, despite only having this one proper conversation with you. He feels envy towards you for being able to study something that he desperately wants to. He feels guilt when he remembers how quickly he made you into a thief when you were only trying to return his belongings, and he feels so many other secondary and tertiary emotions in between. His head is full when he looks at you. He finally feels like he’s thinking about something, not just doing the same day to day motions in a constant cycle of ‘when will this end?’

“You’re apologizing?” You ask, stunned when he nods his head in confirmation. Sincere apologies are important to you. You believe there are not enough of them in this world anymore, and his gentle almond eyes are too wholehearted and warm for you in this cold weather. Your heart feels full looking at him, and you curse at yourself in your head for being swayed like this.

“I also have a question… You mentioned you’re majoring in Studio Art and I was wondering if, maybe, you could let me into one of the studios after a class this week? I’ve been needing a quiet place to work since my house has been busy lately.” One of the hands that was in Renjun’s pocket moves to matte down his sideburns while he glances at his shoes. “Was that too forward? Sorry, I just know that you can’t get into a studio without a passcode and you’re the only person I know who’s in Studio Art.” Renjun explains after you stare for a while, blinking at him.

“You’re an artist?” You finally ask, Renjun giving you a weak ‘yeah’ in response. A part of you wants to say no, that it’ll be weird to do something like this for him when you’ve only known him for less than 2 weeks and up until this point, you’ve only been in a worker-client relationship. However, you’re curious about what he’s like outside of this setting, especially what he’s like when his father has no possibility of appearing, since that seems to be the factor that turns his mood up or down.

“Sure. Come by studio 3 after 6pm on Wednesday and I’ll let you in, but... I heard Mr. Lee already scheduled a game for next weekend?” Renjun nods, “Then in return, you can win that game. It’s embarrassing always being on the losing team.” You smile playfully at the end to let him know you’re only joking.

“Deal.” Renjun sends a smile back of the same caliber, holding out a hand to shake with yours. If you thought you were affected by Renjun’s nice presence, his hand in yours sends you into another realm. His touch is warm from staying indoors and from keeping his hands in his pockets, and they contrast to your cold skin. He sucks in a breath through his teeth when your hands connect, turning your hand in his grip to look at your knuckles. “Are you sure you’re not cold? Your hands are freezing.”

“I’ll be okay. I just don’t have any good gloves to wear while working.” He huffs, small traces of white smoke leaves his mouth as he digs through his pockets.

“Wear these.” He replaces his hand in yours with a pair of his own gloves, “Your hands are precious, they shouldn’t be freezing.” Before Renjun can get embarrassed by his own words, he shoves his hands back into his pockets and turns on his heel, walking away, “I’ll see you on Wednesday!”

A knock on the studio doors shakes you away from staring at your painting, making you turn to look at who it is. Renjun peaks through the small window and waves when you make eye contact. You get up to open the door, almost forgetting that today is the day you agreed to let Renjun into your studio.

… Okay, that’s a lie. You definitely remembered that you’re supposed to meet Renjun, but you keep trying to convince yourself that you’re not excited about seeing him outside of that stuffy country club.

“Hey, sorry if I startled you.” Is the first thing he says when you open the door. He’s dressed in slacks, a dress shirt with a sweater over it, and a long coat over that. His nose and cheeks are slightly red from the rough wind outside and his supplies are clutched to his chest.

“Oh, you’re fine. I was just deep in thought.” Something about the studio makes both of you speak in hushed tones. No one else is here, but you feel the need to maintain the peace and quiet the room naturally holds. You and Renjun make your way to where you’re set up, he puts his things down on an easel to your left and takes off his coat, watching you from his peripheral vision.

Those uniforms they make you wear at work are just for show, Renjun knows that well, but that doesn’t stop him from appreciating you in the tight vest and little skirt. However right now, he likes your laid back look consisting of loose jeans and a layered shirt, he thinks it matches you.

“I was going to leave when you got here, but I think I’ll just finish this and head out.” You comment, aimlessly waving at your project.

“Please, stay as long as you need to. This is your studio, I don’t want to kick you out.” He laughs and licks his bottom lip. It’s breathtaking how innocent and nice his smile looks on his face. His eyes scrunch together to form laugh lines and his cheeks rise, he truly looks pretty when he smiles. You think this is the first time you’ve seen him like this.

You mumble back with a mixture of words that probably didn’t make sense and turn back to your work, leaving the room to continue with its peacefulness and quiet. However, Renjun’s presence next to you is too big to ignore. There are so many things you want to know about him and you have no excuse as to why you’re so curious.

“How about a game while we work?” You suggest.

“Sure… How about 20 questions?” It’s like he read your mind, so you smile and nod at his idea.

“You can go first.” You suggest.

“Okay, uh… Why do you work at a golf course if you’re majoring in Studio Art? Shouldn’t you be working at a, I don’t know, museum?” The question catches you off guard and Renjun notices how you stop painting, your brush and your hand floating in the air as you think, “Oh, sorry, is that too personal?”

“No, no… It’s just, normally, the first question people ask in a game of 20 questions is something like ‘what’s your favorite color’ or ‘what’s your sign’.” Renjun lets out a choked and embarrassed laugh, ducking his head down to look away from you. You can tell he’s about to change his question, so you quickly go back to painting and speak before he can.

“I did apply to work at several museums. I didn’t get any jobs, so I had to look elsewhere and Augusta was hiring. I know it’s not very fitting, but it makes good money and rich people know my name, even if it’s for just a few hours.” Renjun nods at your answer as if he could ever understand the idea of being poor, but the insight into your decision brings a fact to light that Renjun wasn’t 100% aware of before: you’re not like him, you need money.

“Don’t you hate the way people look at you there?” The words tumble out of Renjun’s lips faster than he can process the weight they carry. He turns to face you with guilt pooling in his eyes and his mouth opening and closing to find some words to correct the situation.

“No, I don’t like it.” You surprise him with your quick response, “But people like you don’t understand what it’s like to live paycheck to paycheck, to have to worry about how to pay the bills every month for years on end, always on your toes about money. I bet you think I’m cheap and—”

“No.” Renjun cuts you off promptly before you can continue, “Don’t make me into a jerk. I’m not like that. But the fact that that is the first thing you thought of worries me.” Your eyes widen at that, prompting him to elaborate. “Doesn’t that mean that’s how you think of yourself? Maybe not on the outside, but subconsciously. Sure, I won’t ever be able to understand how you live, but I wish you would not look at yourself as cheap and think of yourself as… beautiful.” Renjun lets the last words linger on his tongue, saying it quietly as if to not startle you.

You stare at him, your paintbrush resting in your hand and your back slouched as you watch him watch you. This is not the type of conversation you thought you’d be having with Renjun tonight, but you have to admit he makes a point. Eventually, you turn to your painting and stare at it some more, making Renjun turn and continue his own work.

“Ah, I asked two questions in a row.” He suddenly breaks the tense atmosphere, making you sigh as you remember you’re just playing a game, “You can ask two questions.”

He allows and relaxes when he sees you go back to painting.

“If you like to draw, why are you a business major?” Now it’s Renjun’s turn to freeze. Maybe if he did ask what your favorite color was he wouldn’t have had to endure this question from you, but he feels like he should answer it since it’s of equal weight to the one he asked you.

“It wasn’t my choice. I will most likely take my father’s place in his company and I need to at least know the basics before that happens.” You nod slowly. He looks so calm when he’s focused on drawing, but it’s not the same calm that you see on his face when he’s playing golf. You turn away before you get caught staring.

“Is that why your mood always changes when your dad is around?”

“Is it that obvious…” He trails off and you nod, “I can’t believe I’m about to say this out loud, but… It’s like everytime I’m around him, or at his office, or at home, my mind goes blank. I don’t feel like talking or thinking at all.” As he speaks, he sets down his utensils and turns to you, making continuous eye contact as he explains. You find yourself feeling comfortable at how easily he’s talking to you about such a deep subject.

“It sounds like… you’re angry.” You turned to face him now too, your paintbrush settled onto your canvas and your full attention on him, “My dad is like that. He gets so angry sometimes that he’s calm. No yelling or fighting, just silence. That’s how I know I messed up when he gets like that.” You nod, remembering all the times he’s been calmly mad at you.

“I don’t know… It’s confusing to me.” He straightens his back and stares at your foot as it moves around aimlessly. “What do I do?” He asks into the air, as if his pencil would suddenly start talking to him like a therapist.

“Just do what makes you happy.” Renjun’s glance over at you makes a smile pull at your lips, “I know it’s easier said than done. But you already know what it is that’ll make you happy, and that’s half of the battle. Why bottle it up?”

Renjun doesn’t know how he’ll ever get the courage to tell his father these things, but the way you’re looking at him as if he can do anything, he starts to feel tingles of confidence trickle into him.

“Oh, and why did you pick me to be your caddie this past weekend?”

“Well…” Renjun plays with his pencil. What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t want you to carry around his father’s heavy golf clubs? He doesn’t like the way his father touches you and gets jealous over it for some unknown reason? Yeah, he’s not going to say.

“Just because… I wanted you next to me.” The way he says it makes it sound so simple and true, but your heart drops to your stomach and springs back up going at 100 miles per hour. You can barely stop your hand from shaking as you pick up your brush, and it’s almost like you can’t see in front of you from the thrill of his words.

“Hey,” Renjun suddenly drops his pencil and turns to you, looking a bit confused and slightly upset, “Didn’t you ask three questions?”

“We’re letting the Lees win again today.” Renjun is in the middle of pulling up the zipper of his jacket when his father drops the news. Renjun’s footsteps stutter slightly at his father’s words and he stops walking next to the older man.

“Again?” He asks as he already thinks up an apology to tell you later when he loses.

“Yes, I need Mr. Lee to be happy when I bring up the new contract to him later in the sauna.” Renjun sighs and continues to walk next to his father. It’s the next weekend, and the third Lee vs. Huang game is starting in just a few minutes.

Renjun won’t lie, purposefully losing to his best friend and his dad every week is not the greatest stroke to Renjun’s ego, especially since Jeno won’t let it down around his other friends.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Lijun swivels on his heel to look at his son, “Have you been requesting for ___ to be your caddie?”

The questions stuns Renjun, making it hard to answer so his father takes it as a yes.

“Well stop it. Dad wants to have some fun.” He claps a hand on Renjun’s back and smiles. In the past, Renjun would’ve just rolled his eyes and let his father do whatever he wants, but this time his blood boils. He feels true anger when his father struts away with the intentions of doing whatever he wants to someone Renjun cares about. He can barely move his feet after the old man, his mind cloudy as everyone makes it to the golf carts.

“Let’s have a good game today, Mr. Huang, don’t make it too easy to beat you.” Mr. Lee jokes around and the two old men laugh as they settle into their own golf carts. Renjun walks up to his cart and you wave to him, the white gloves he gave you last week snugly on your hands. Renjun thinks his anger is what spurs him into doing what he does next.

He steps close to you, leaning into your ear and wrapping his hand around your covered ones with his thumb rubbing on your exposed wrist, “Keep these on for me, babe. I don’t want you to be cold.”

The amount of jaws that drops after Renjun’s words makes him bite down his smirk and slide into the front seat of the golf cart, pretending to not see the daggers his father is throwing at him with his eyes.

Your heart beats so quickly and loudly you’re sure Kara can hear it next to you if she wasn’t busy huffing about what Renjun just did. Sitting in the back seat of the golf cart, you watch the back of Renjun’s head on the way to the first hole. What got into Renjun? Why did he all of a sudden call you ‘babe’ and get so close? Not that you’re opposed to it, you’re just shocked.

The game begins once you reach the first hole, and the Huang’s put up a good fight throughout the entire game, keeping the Lees on their toes and the score sheet even. Everytime Renjun comes back from a shot, you smile at him and tell him good job, which earns you a pat on the back from him that warms you up from the inside out.

Renjun can tell his father is getting more and more annoyed with him; how Renjun is keeping you as far from his father as he possibly can, the gentle touches on your waist that you welcome wholeheartedly compared to the ones Mr. Huang would lay on you before. He likes how angry his father gets, especially knowing that he can’t do anything about it right now. Not to mention, you seem to be enjoying Renjun’s attention, which just adds to his confidence.

Now, your group arrives at the last hole of the game. The Lees step up and swing, setting their total score to 357. All Renjun and his father have to do is move the ball around a bit more to get their score to be higher and the Lees will win the game. Mr. Huang is up first, acting clumsy so that the ball doesn’t make it into the hole and brings the game to Renjun.

As he sets up his posture, his hands suddenly go stiff. This shot is so easy to make, he has made this exact hole several times. He breathes in and out deeply, deciding on if he should throw the game like his father said he should, or give his one last ‘fuck you’ to his Dad.

He glances at you and makes eye contact; you nod your head and smile a bit as if to say ‘go ahead, we all know you can do this.’ Renjun then grips his golf club and swings it back to effortlessly hit the golf ball, rolling it along the green and perfectly into the hole.

You and the other caddies clap for the perfectly executed shot and Jeno and his father come up to Renjun to shake hands. They don’t look upset, instead they look pretty happy for Renjun. However, Renjun’s father is deathly silent, not even congratulating Renjun on his win. Renjun wasn’t expecting a whole ceremony for him, but it does feel nice to put his father down a peg or two today, and that’s the thought that fills Renjun’s head as everyone rides back to the country club.

While getting out of the golf cart, Renjun attempts to turn back to you but is promptly pulled away by the back of his jacket by his father. Renjun yelps and pulls away, but that doesn’t stop Lijun from grabbing onto his son’s arm instead and pulling him inside.

“What was that? I specifically told you to lose the game and you did the exact opposite. How am I supposed to talk to Mr. Lee now?” Renjun’s father fumes, his low voice belting out into the corridor and making some of the passing staff turn their heads.

“That’s not my problem.” Renjun shrugs and his father stops shaking, stepping closer to his son.

“Excuse me?” He asks with menace dripping from his tongue.

“I said, that’s not my problem.” Renjun is fired up. He doesn’t see a way out of this now, no way his behavior is being excused, so might as well go all in.

“You did it for that caddie, ___, right?” His father squints his eyes and turns his head slightly. When Renjun doesn’t answer, Lijun laughs in his face, “It looks like I’m right.”

“What?” Renjun asks dumbly.

“It’s okay. You’re just a boy and you can make some mistakes over a girl, we’ve all been there once or twice.” Lijun fixes Renjun’s jacket and pats his shoulder, his angry disposition turning passive. “Besides, you can’t do much for that girl anyway. Is a ball in a hole really all she deserves?”

“I won the game because I could. I won it because that’s what I wanted.” Renjun states, his blood beginning to boil once again when his father says he doesn’t deserve you. What is he thinking? Does he actually think he has a chance with you? He can keep dreaming.

“We can’t always do whatever we want. There are consequences we have to face for doing whatever we want. Are you ready to face the consequences?” At the question, Renjun is reminded about the words you told him Wednesday night.

‘Just do what makes you happy,’ Those simple words are so hard to turn into reality. Renjun wants to be happy so bad. He wants to be away from this man and he wants to be closer to you. The consequences? Sure, he’ll deal with it all if it means he can stop living in the personal hell his father set up for him. Renjun pushes his father away a bit and steps out of the trap his father pushed him into, making Lijun’s eyes widen.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Renjun says and turns around, walking back towards the exit of the building.

“Hey, where are you going?” His father shouts after him.

“To do the thing that I want to do the most.” He yells back and walks around the corner, out of sight from his father. Renjun practically runs through the hallways to get back outside and run to you, but you surprise him by greeting him by the saunas. He stops in his steps and you smile as you walk up to him.

“Hey, I just wanted to tell you that you did really well today. I know I said I wanted you to win last week, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” You laugh.

“Thanks.” Renjun simply says, afraid of what else could come out if he keeps talking.

“Oh, I also want to give you these back.” You dig out Renjun’s gloves from your pocket, holding them out. This is it. This is the moment Renjun will start to do whatever makes him happy, whatever he wants.

And what he wants right now is you.

He quickly takes the gloves and then tightly grips the wrist of your outstretched hand, leading you down the hallway and around some corner. He hears you exclaim a small ‘woah’ but you let him guide you into a sauna, the door closing tightly behind both of you.

There’s no one else in the room, just the stuffy steam that floats in the small space between you two. Renjun has a tight grip on the gloves you gave back to him and his other hand runs through his hair and messes up the perfect form it held.

“Tell me to stop.” He demands, looking straight into your eyes.

“What?”

“Tell me to stop right now.” He takes a step forward, his eyes full to the brim with lust and his hands shaking with how much he’s holding himself together. You’ve barely been in the room for a minute, but your clothes are already sticking to you from the intense heat.

“I don’t understand,” You reply back as he keeps moving toward you. You take small steps back in return, “I don’t know what I’m stopping you from.” Half of you is playing dumb right now; you know what Renjun wants from you just by the look in his eyes. The other half just wants to hear him say it himself

“I’ll fuck you the way you deserve. Right here, right now.” Renjun’s voice is too angelic to say such nasty words, but he growls them out like he’s a tainted angel. You’re pressed against the wooden wall of the sauna now, Renjun just a step away. You lean into him slightly and rip the gloves out of his hand to throw them to the side.

“Do it.”

It’s all the permission Renjun needs to feverishly connect his lips to yours.

The action is so sudden, you don’t remember how Renjun got close to you so quickly. Despite his forcefulness before, his lips melt into you like chocolate melting over a fire, so hot and delicious that you just want more. His hands hold the sides of your face, pushing back your hair and his body pushing you back into the wall.

He sucks on your bottom lip, softly biting afterwards and making you let out a whimper, and then a moan when his thigh pushes between your legs and further presses you against the wall. Amidst the kissing, you find the zipper of his expensive jacket, unzip it, and pull the piece of clothing off. Afterwards, you pull his shirt off and break the kiss while you’re at it.

“I’ve been thinking about you in this skirt since….” Renjun hums at the thought, his hand sliding up your bare thighs and under your skirt, then he grips your ass and brings your core down onto his thigh, the friction enough to have you letting out a strangled moan.

“Since the day I first saw you.” He finally whispers and connects your lips once again. His hand on your ass doesn’t move, his other hand is placed on your waist as he helps you ride the rough material of his pants. Renjun can only watch your reactions; the way your head lolls back into the wall and your eyes screw shut, holding onto Renjun’s shoulders tight enough he’s sure there will be marks afterwards.

“Fuck— Renjun, don’t stop, please.” He’s mesmerized, absolutely addicted to how you look and sound right now, and it’s all because of him. The thought spurs him along, he removes your jacket and you blindly help him in removing your top and bra. You must look like a mess right now, especially since you’re coming close to your climax just by Renjun’s touch and his thigh. Not to mention the sweat dripping down both of you, a glistening sheen coating your skin that makes Renjun let out a low growl before he leans down and takes one of your nipples in his mouth.

He sucks and swirls his tongue, and you can’t help but moan his name again, digging your fingers into his blonde hair and tugging. Renjun moves from your chest downward, not letting an inch of your stomach and hips go past him without a kiss and a nibble, leaving you breathing heavily. He makes his way down to his knees and folds your skirt up, glancing at you from his position.

“You don’t wear anything under here except your panties?” You nod, your head stuttering as Renjun applies pressure with his thumb over your slick hole, a wet spot already there to greet him.

“You’re so fucking dirty, baby.” He groans and leans in to swipe his tongue over your center making you shake as a response. He slides your underwear down and throws it somewhere to the side, catching the sigh of your arousal dripping down your thigh. His intense stare makes you shake him, embarrassment crawling over you at how he’s not reacting.

“Are you shy?” You whine, not really answering his question. “You don’t need to be. You’re beautiful.” The softness from his voice contradicts his more dominating tone from before, but you don’t have time to think about it before he dives in. You sigh in content when the pressure in between your hips caused by Renjun turns into pure pleasure. His tongue laps at your essence and his lips suck on your clit, you can tell he’s trying to find what exactly will make you tick.

When Renjun slides a finger into your hole unexpectedly, you jump and whimper a bit but the feeling of him sliding in and out along with his tongue circling and sucking on your clit makes a knot form in the pit of your stomach, tightening up your muscles and making your eyes roll back.

“Right there. Oh my god, right there…” You keep repeating, praying that Renjun treats you good and let’s you come. He adds another finger and you gasp, starting to move your hips in rhythm to his hand, holding onto his shoulders for more stability. He glances up at you, watching your eyes screw shut and your tits bounce as you use his hand to get yourself off. Renjun hums against you, and you can almost feel the ecstasy of coming undone, until Renjun pulls away. You groan, feeling like crying when your orgasm fades.

“Hey..” You whine, pouting when Renjun stands back up and licks your juices off of his lips. He has some on his chin and you bring your hand up to wipe it away, Renjun stopping your hand and kissing the wetness away, then kissing up your arm and to your shoulder, up your neck and to your ear. He tugs at your earlobe, licking the skin under it and biting some more, his hands sliding up your waist at playing with your nipples, pinching a little to get whimpers out of you and making your hips buck up, ready to continue where Renjun left you at.

That’s when you feel the hardness in his pants; it must be painful. That’s why you understand his next words, whispered into the shell of your ear between kisses: “You’re not coming until I’m in you, got it?”

You nod quickly, attaching your hands to Renjun’s zipper and button, undoing them and sliding down his pants.

“But, you’re gonna need to do something for me…” He says, helping you pull down his boxers, watching his angry, red length swing out. You gasp, feeling a bit bad that you just left Renjun like this to eat you out, but you’re sure you can make up to him now.

“What is it? I’ll do it.” Your hands run over Renjun’s sweaty shoulders, moving away some longer hair in the back of his head that’s sticking against his neck.

“You’re gonna have to yell my name. I need you to let everyone know who’s doing this to you— who’s making you feel good, okay?” Your breath gets caught in your throat as the words tumble out of his lips. He tilts his voice higher at the end of every phrase to make him sound innocent, but you’re not fooled.

“There’s people outside…” You mumble back, sending a glance at the door. You know there are several staff and customers walking along the hallways outside. What will they think if they hear you screaming Renjun’s name? Not to talk about what will happen to your job.

Those thoughts melt away when Renjun’s dick slides between your folds slowly, making you turn your gaze back to him and hold on tight as he lubricates himself over your wetness, holding onto your hips so that you don’t move and take anymore than what he’s giving you.

“That’s exactly why I want you to scream. Can you do that for me?” He asks and you nod frantically, doing almost anything to get his dick inside you. You’re not sure what’s going to happen once you step out of this room, but at least you know Renjun is going to give you the best fuck you’ve had in a while, and you know it’ll be worth it for what’s to come after all this.

“Finally…” You moan when Renjun’s length disappears into you inch by inch, going slow as to not hurt you. He sucks in a breath through his teeth as he bottoms out, picking up your thigh to hang it over his hip and wrapping his other arm around your waist to keep you close. You hold onto him, adjusting as he kisses your lips sweetly and carefully, and waits to move his throbbing cock through your velvety walls.

“Go, Renjun, move….” You whisper, and he looks at you confused.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He asks, cocking his head.

“Please, move.” You say louder, but he shakes his head and purses his lips as if he still can’t understand.

“I said, fuck me, Renjun. Please, can you fuck me already?” You all but scream out, your voice almost cracking at how whiny you sound. No doubt, if someone passed by outside they would’ve heard you. The thought makes you tense up, but it feels so good to be able to yell out what you want.

“Your wish, baby.” Renjun mutters before he starts rocking into you. You both groan at the sensation, Renjun’s hips speeding up as he gains more momentum. His lips don’t leave yours, kissing you into oblivion while his dick stuffs you. He has you against the wall, his hips powering away and you don’t dare to disturb him, realizing he’s burning all of his anger away as well.

“Yes, Renjun, fuck me just like that…'' You moan loudly to spur him on, now not really caring about who’s outside or who hears you, just wanting Renjun to know you love how rough he’s going. He presses you higher up the wall and pulls your legs apart more, hitting a new angle that literally makes you scream out, tears mixing with the sweat on your face as he relentlessly pumps into you.

There are so many things going on at the same time. Your hard nipples and soft breasts rubbing against Renjun’s chest, making goosebumps rise on his arms. Your hot and sweaty bodies are basically sliding against each other. The clapping of his hips against yours no doubt attracts attention from outside along with your screams and Renjun’s grunts continuously get louder as you both get closer to the climax.

“I’m gonna come… Renjun, come in me…” You’re already fucked out, the words barely leaving your lips coherently, but Renjun understands and moves his finger down to find your clit, circling his thumb fast and steady, just like everything else he’s doing.

“C’mon come on my cock, babe. Let it out, I wanna hear it.” And just like that, you unwind and scream his name as your orgasm washes over and takes control, making you claw onto any part of Renjun that you can reach. Renjun feels your walls deliciously convulse around him and with a few more sloppy thrusts, he comes into you and fills you up, staying wrapped up in you as you both calm down.

Renjun presses small kisses wherever he feels like as your breathing settles down, his softness and the caring way he rubs at your sides and hips where he was holding so hard that you’re sure to have bruises makes you smile hazily.

“___… I don’t regret any of this.” He whispers into your skin, leaning back to look at you properly. “Do you?”

“No.” You answer truthfully, making his eyes shine and you both smile dumbly, your sticking bodies relaxing. The happy moment doesn’t last long before there’s a knock on the door to the sauna. You and Renjun stiffen up as you glance at the door, waiting for whoever it is to announce themselves.

“Renjun? Son?” Your heart drops to your stomach and you cover your mouth at the voice of Renjun’s father on the other side of the door, but when you turn to Renjun, he doesn’t seem bothered. He sends a smile at you and moves some hair from your face before answering.

“Occupied, go somewhere else. We’re busy.”

3K notes · View notes

earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

rings.

| bucky barnes x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. bucky with rings

mafia au, soft!dom

cw: sliiiiight dubcon if you squint, but not actually

“You’re running the money through here?” Steve asked Bucky, and he nodded.

“Yes. We have a few other sites we launder through, but most of the money comes through here. Police don’t come poking around a locally owned Romanian restaurant on the upper east side,” Bucky explained.

“Boss is very... careful.” Zemo explained, referring to Bucky.

They were trying to make a deal with Steve and Sam, the two American bosses of another mafia they were trying to sell their illegal weapons to. One of their bases was raided, all of their drugs and weapons seized by the DEA.

They had come to Bucky, looking to buy more weapons to arm their dealers and “soldiers”.

“And who is this exactly?” Sam eyed Zemo suspiciously.

“Zemo. He’s security, and my weapons expert,” Bucky answered.

“Do you have connections?” Steve continued, trying to ignore the Sokovian’s unsettling stare.

“Yes. The head agent of the Manhattan DEA is one of us. Half of the local precincts are in our pocket, and I own the NYPD.” Bucky’s tone was impatient, he didn’t appreciate the questioning of his authority.

Bucky was the most powerful man in New York, and also the most feared. He demanded respect, dominating every space he entered. Steve and Sam wanted to be under his protection, and be supplied by him.

The men stopped talking when they heard a noise, and the four men burst into the front of the restaurant, guns drawn.

“Did you not lock the fucking door?!” Bucky snapped at Zemo. Zemo just rolled his eyes, and they stepped out into the dining room, where you stood.

You loved the Romanian restaurant just a few streets down from your building. You frequented it, their papanasi your favorite comfort food.

You’d had a rough week, a lot of family drama, and you were craving the Romanian food. You found the door unlocked and a back light on as you were walking home late, and you’d gone inside to try to get a snack.

It was empty, but four men had come out, three of them pulling guns and pointing them at you. You’d heard voices and had begun to walk to the back hallway, where they’d been talking in an office. You’d heard “I own the NYPD,” and nothing else. You’d started to leave when the men had appeared.

The man who didn’t have a gun pointed at you was in an all-black suit, silver eyes matching silver rings on his fingers that looked like they costed more than your Manhattan rent.

You were frozen, staring down the barrels of three guns, fear robbing your lungs of air.

“Get your fucking guns out of her face!” Bucky shouted, making you jump. Zemo obeyed immediately, but Steve and Sam kept their guns pointed at you.

“She’s-”

“She’s unarmed and terrified. Put down the fucking guns!” The other two slowly lowered their weapons, and you were shaking.

Bucky looked at you, a frightened girl who clearly had just ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. You stared back at him, your hands trembling. You didn’t understand him protecting you from the other men, but you were thankful.

“Please, I didn’t hear anything, I haven’t done anything... I just wanted some food,” you pleaded softly, looking at Bucky in hopes he’d take more pity on you.

“I believe you, doll, but we can’t let you leave,” Bucky spoke, and you bit your lip.

“I won’t do anything,” you promised.

“I know. You came for something to eat? Let’s get you some food. Zemo.” Bucky pushed the Sokovian toward the kitchen.

“Barnes, we can’t just-” Steve turned to Bucky, starting to object.

“You will respect my authority, Steve.”

You looked at him, and Bucky held his hand out for you to take. You hesitated, and his silver gaze softened.

“I’m not going to hurt you, doll,” he said quietly, and you carefully put your hand in his, the metal rings cold against your warm skin. Bucky pulled you toward him, his other hand going to rest on the small of your back as he led you to his office, sitting down with you on one of the brown leather couches. You began to smell the food Zemo was cooking, growing hungrier. Sam and Steve sat across from the two of you, and you shifted under their intense gazes.

“What’s your name?” Bucky asked you, and when you didn’t answer immediately, he introduced himself.

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky,” he felt bad that you’d gotten caught up with them. Under another circumstance, he probably would’ve sent you away, but he couldn’t let you go in front of the two Americans, and not risking what you may have heard of their conversation.

Your mind was spinning. You’d never been in the presence of four men as beautiful as the ones in the restaurant. Bucky especially, was incredibly gorgeous. His stern, dominating personality made him far more attractive somehow, and you found yourself growing warm in your jeans.

“Your name, doll?” Bucky’s voice was soft as he called you back to attention, snapping your mind out of your wandering thoughts.

“Y/N,” you whispered, pulling at a rip in your jeans, letting your eyes fall down to your lap.

“That’s a pretty name,” Bucky said, repeating it, and god it sounded so much better falling from his lips.

“Here,” Zemo returned, setting down a plate for you. A small gasp left you as Bucky hauled you closer to him on the couch. You realized it was so that Zemo could sit down on your other side. You picked up the plate, eating quietly, trying to ignore the stares from the men across from you.

Zemo and Bucky didn’t stare, and Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your leg. They began to speak in Romanian, and you didn’t understand, so you kept eating. You nearly choked when Bucky squeezed your thigh a bit, his rings glinting from the movement.

You wondered how the cool metal would feel against your heat.

“Y/N? I asked if you were alright?”

“Hm? Yes,” you blushed furiously, and Bucky had an amused smirk on your face, practically reading your mind, or at least recognizing filthy thoughts as you stared at his large hands.

“Her cheeks look a little rosy,” Zemo hummed, his fingers brushing lightly over your cheekbone. Your chest rose and fell heavily, and Steve leaned forward and took the now-empty plate from your lap.

“Are you nervous?” Bucky teased, his deep voice soaking into you, surrounding you and blocking out everything else.

“No, sir,” you shook your head, swallowing hard.

“Sir? So sweet,” Zemo chuckled darkly, and you felt his fingertips ghost down your spine.

“I am sweet,” you said, looking up at Bucky, and he tilted his head to the side a bit, running his hand up and down your thigh. You squeezed your legs together without meaning to, just needing to alleviate some of the sexual frustration that was building inside of you.

You were overwhelmed by the two men speaking softly and sensually to you, their hands on you, the dominating personalities, and the tension in the room. You were focused on Bucky, and he helped you onto his lap. You let him move you to straddle his hips, your back to the other men.

“Want to show me how sweet you can be, doll?” He asked, his hands resting on your ribcage, and you could feel him through your thin top. You nodded shyly, and he kissed you to get you to relax a bit.

“My friends here are going to watch, okay?” Bucky’s voice was dangerously soft, and you nodded. He kissed your cheekbone lightly before slipping your top over your head, your breasts barely covered by thin, see-through lace.

You blushed, looking to the side and seeing Zemo shift at the sight of your chest.

“He’s admiring you,” Bucky hummed softly into your collarbone, pressing a kiss to the skin there, just above the curve of the lace on your breast. His hands slipped down into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing you and pulling a breathy noise from you. You couldn’t see Sam or Steve, but you felt their gazes on your back, watching the way Bucky balanced softness and dominance with you.

“I want to make you feel good, I want to hear your little moans of pleasure,” Bucky spoke quietly, mouthing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Please,” now, instead of begging to leave, you were begging for him, the mafia don you were on top of.

“Let’s let these poor boys behind you see. I want them to know who’s in charge here,” Bucky said, and you nodded in consent. You felt like you could collapse as he got you to stand up off of his lap. You looked down at his rings as he smoothed his hands up your belly to tease the raised peaks under your bralette.

“So pretty, doll,” Bucky praised you, kissing just above your navel. His eyes gazed up at you, and your trembling fingers threaded through his dark hair as you got lost in the stormy grey.

Bucky wanted to tear you apart, but he took it slow and was gentle for you, the sweet girl under his protection.

He kissed the space between your hips as he undid the button on your jeans, sliding them down your legs. He reached a hand up for you to take as you stepped out of them, holding you steady. He smiled at the lace bottoms that matched your top, nearly see-through.

You heard a soft throaty noise from behind you, and you looked to see Sam and Steve with their hands down their trousers, stroking themselves as they watched Bucky undress you. Zemo was doing the same, but less shy than the other two, his suit pants down around his knees, giving you full view of his cock.

You blushed shyly, feeling exposed but somehow safe with Bucky, who was squeezing your ass, leaving imprints of his rings against your skin.

“Look, they’re all touching themselves because of you, how beautiful and sweet you are,” Bucky turned you around so your back was to him, making you watch Steve and Sam. Your skimpy underwear showed how wet you were, and you were unable to hide how turned on you were any more.

Bucky’s hands were on your hips as he kissed down your spine, shivers shooting through your body. He slid the lace down your legs, leaving it discarded on the floor with your jeans, but not bothering to get you fully naked.

A soft squeal escaped as you were suddenly dragged backwards, falling onto Bucky’s lap, your back pressed against his suit-clad chest.

“You can rest on me, doll,” he coaxed you to relax, his hands smoothing down your body.

Steve and Sam were overwhelmed by the sight in front of them, and Bucky knew it. He was doing this to assert his dominance, and to establish a level of trust between them. They watched him part your legs, keeping them open with his knees. Zemo was much more unphased than the other two, enjoying the show as one of Bucky’s loyal friends.

Bucky could hear your soft, unsteady breaths, and he stilled when your smaller hand grasped his.

“Leave them on, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look him in the eyes before he could remove his rings.

“Of course, sweet girl.” Bucky planted a gentle kiss to your lips, deepening it to hear your soft moans.

“Oh my god, fuck,” one of the men moaned as they came, seeing your sex glisten as Bucky licked into your mouth sensually.

Bucky gently trailed his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you were. He began to stroke your clit softly, listening to you whine.

He eased one of his large fingers into your tight entrance. You shuddered, your breath stuttering as you felt the cold metal against your hot pussy, your muscles squeezing around his finger.

“Does that feel good?” Zemo asked you as Bucky pushed two fingers inside of you, still teasing your clit to keep you relaxed.

“Answer him, doll,” Bucky commanded you sternly.

“Yes, sir,” you turned your head to look at Zemo, watching his hips fuck up into his hand.

“No, you keep touching yourselves. You’re not done until I’m done.” Bucky’s order was directed at Steve and Sam, who’s noises rose in pitch at the forced overstimulation. They were too afraid to disobey Bucky, knowing the consequences would be dire. Zemo knew this ahead of time, and was taking it much slower, still enjoying himself as he watched you writhe on Bucky’s lap.

Bucky kissed along your shoulder and neck, three fingers pumping slowly in and out of you. He expertly drew whines and moans of pleasure from you, and your legs were beginning to shake from the intensity.

The cold metal against your heat was driving you mad, making your eyes roll back in ecstasy. Your back arched off of Bucky’s chest, and he wrapped an arm around you to hold you against him. He still managed to stay calm enough to continue being gentle with you, leading you quickly toward a powerful orgasm.

“You must ask him before you let go, sweetheart,” Zemo informed you, and your broken whimper filled Bucky’s ears. He watched the other three men writhing in their own mind-blowing pleasure, all under the instruction of him.

“Please, Bucky, I need-” you cut yourself off with a strangled squeal as he curved his fingers forward inside of you.

“Let go, I’ve got you,” He said, kissing your cheek as he murmured the soft words. Your screams of white-hot pleasure filled the room, shaking and falling apart on his lap. A choked sob left your chest as he pulled out of you, his digits soaked in your come. He’d waited until you had fell down from your high, becoming relaxed in his arms.

He was whispering gentle praises in your ear as he slipped his fingers into your mouth to clean them off. You hollowed your cheeks, obediently cleaning him up and feeling the metal rings pressed against your lips. You were soothed by sucking off his fingers and the praises, melting into the mafia lord.

“I think I want to keep you.”

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ganymedesclock · 3 years

Note

[enters the cat door.] Pale King? :)

PK is great because while we get a lot of impressions of what he's capable of, overwhelmingly his work is left for us, self-evident and finished, in such a state that we are not given hints on how he did it or what he did. This obviously has a lot of canon significance to who he is as a person-

(especially when the nature of much of that work is itself somewhat inscrutable; how exactly does he record his voice in whispering stones that only speak to certain parties when the rest of the setting is limited to actually writing things down?)

-but basically what it amounts to is that it's headcanons all the way down, baybey.

PK is... obsessed. This, to me, is the thing that stands out to me at an immediate glance of anything he was capable of. He fashions himself as a rational arbiter; possibly even a thing emotionless, unbiased, but really, it's obvious that certain ideas drove him so powerfully that anything, including unimaginable agonies and cruelties- barely factor. His mind as we explore it has very few guards that try to drive us out and kill us, few true barriers that stop us from moving forwards- but an enormous, vicious, whirling mechanism, beautiful and terrible, that polices every inch we move. You can proceed, the white palace says, if you're perfect. If your timing is perfect, if you never dare the metal teeth that surround you, if you choose exactly the right things and move only as the space is designed to move- and if you are willing to suffer, truly and awfully, then you can proceed, the palace is yours, it is open and the barest adversity will stop you.

This is not the mind of a person who lets things go easily. This is not the mind of a person who is actually detached. This is a beautiful machine, elaborate, precisely calibrated, and it makes miracles.

And it is, quite frankly, an absolute inhospitable nightmare. It might as well be the surface of the moon, not for alienness, but for the sheer ludicrous notion that anyone could live or love there. His mind is a haunted house to end all haunted houses; it'd be a fine locale to find in Silent Hill. The few rooms that actually seem like recollections of real places- the nursery, the workshop, the throne room- are all unsettling in different ways.

The nursery is the loveliest and also the most unattainable; a place for two people who are never coming back to the person who left them behind in the first place and didn't even set a chair for himself- the workshop is cluttered, creepy and miserable, nowhere you'd expect a god to make miracles; the throne room is bleak and dark, and has pillars set like fangs and the only chair so hard and uncomfortable it won't save your progress or give your player character a second of rest.

There is only one mention, anywhere in the game, of coldness associated with anything even adjacent to PK- the description of the pale ore characterizes it as "emanating an icy chill"- and when I remind myself of this, actually go looking for it, it shocks me. PK, to me, is so powerfully and intensely an ice person. Not just in the superficial senses- oh, he's cold, oh, he's callous, oh, he suppresses his emotions and opposes the fiery, sun-aligned Radiance; but that while neither of these gods have any ability to "get over it" whatsoever, the way they hold onto things is drastically polar opposite.

Radiance boils. Simmers. Screams and writhes and rages and pulses to her emotions. Those infected by her plague begin to feel as if they are burning alive the more her influence extends. She is a heat that stokes itself higher and higher and higher, to frenzy and fury, and the coldest it can get is if she methodically banks herself down to coals to pretend for a single utilitarian moment she's not as angry as she is, so she can whisper sweet words just long enough to coax someone onto the cinders.

PK... freezes over. He holds onto things perfectly, as if they never left, as if they never changed. When you walk over the nursery memory it looks just like White Lady could come by and put an infant Hollow in the cradle and sit down to rock them to sleep. It's so clean. So expectant. So empty.

And yet, there's something completely inhospitable to life about it. How could anyone live here? How could anyone be happy here? The game Silent Hill: Shattered Memories has a theme of a happy childhood frozen over in invading ice; that's very much what comes to mind here, even if Hollow's childhood was troubled long before they'd have anything to do with this room. PK ices over, is a person who stopped his own heart at one point just to serve another purpose and, superficially indifferently, left that body behind to rot without any sort of respect or acknowledgement. @rukafais drew a headcanon a very long time ago to the idea that PK could just will his own blood to stop flowing, and that's long one I've stuck with- a living person who is at odds with himself because of this absolute glacial inhospitality.

PK is also... clever. Inventive. One could almost argue too clever for his own good. If there's one way his obsessions are utterly unaffected by this ice and sense of detachment, it's that while Radiance is revolted by, fears and hates the void, PK... was fascinated by it. It's probably the most dangerous non-Radiance thing in the kingdom to him and yet he built his palace right next to the abyss; built a great lighthouse and a smaller alcove room that- unlike the spaces in his own mind- you can actually imagine him sitting, maybe for hours, maybe for days- just staring at the void sea. Dropping things into its grasp only to fetch them back out. Pouring it into shapes, and seeing how it held.

This also seems to convey itself in the shapes that his magic takes, or that similar pale white magic in other places (such as around the dreamers' monument) form; they are extremely intricate. Impossible filigrees of light that dangle in the air. Nowhere is this more obvious than the Pure Vessel fight, the moment where Hollow is remembering what they once were- at the point they were trying to be everything PK wanted of them, everything PK cares about. Hollow's attacks in that fight are beautiful. Ornate. The temporary spikes summoned from the ground have the same woven, 'watered' pattern that we see on the Pure Nail once Ghost acquires it.

So these ideas, of PK- icy stillness, obsessive detail, and insatiable curiosity- condensed for me a lot into how I imagine him fighting or handling situations. I imagine him as fighting with a spear very keenly- not just long reach, but that I associate PK very strongly in my mind with the concept of dissection and vivisection. Everything in its place, labeled, named, and known, consecrated by the light with identity and purpose- the hungry, predatory curiosity of a hunter picking apart prey, but with enough academic backing that they're looking for something more than the juiciest pieces to eat.

So, I imagine PK fighting with spears, and impaling or cutting implements... in that I imagine him fighting like a surgeon, pinning and mounting something or herding it into place.

#Hollow Knight #the Pale King #readmore #haha imagine a lance sentry but with a boss fight's health pool and a complex attack pattern

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

can we get a part 2 to caps panic attack? like an outside perspective (not caps) maybe loops or like a cub or something ?

Y'all thought I was lying when I said I'd have Alarm Bells 2: Electric Boogaloo out soon, didn't you? Please ignore the fact that it's been juuuust under four months since the original fic, and enjoy draft #4! This is the longest I've spent on one fic! SW credit goes, of course, to @lumosinlove <3

TW for mentioned panic attacks

The door closed with a dull thud. Choking silence fell over the entire room before a cold, brittle, furious voice asked, “what the hell was that?”

Arthur swallowed around the dryness of his mouth and shook his head.

“What the hell was that?” Remus repeated. His temper was rare—Arthur had never seen him truly angry, but the tic at the edge of his jaw told a different story.

“I’m sorry,” he managed as he picked his clipboard up off the floor. “To—to all of you, I’m sorry.”

“I respect you a lot, Coach,” Dumo said, cutting Remus off before he could continue. “But that was out of line. Tonight’s game was bad. We all know that, especially Cap. That doesn’t excuse putting the blame on one person or throwing things.”

“You’re right.” He swallowed again and looked around the rest of the locker room; every other player stared at the ground, avoiding his gaze. Bitterness tinged his teeth—he was acting like the coach he had always promised he wouldn’t be. “I’m disappointed in myself for tonight’s game, and I took it out on all of you. Pascal is right, that wasn’t fair. I hope you can accept my apology and forgive me for losing my temper like that.”

“We’re not the ones you need to ask, though, are we?” James said from his stall without sparing him a glance.

Arthur suppressed a wince. He had been so preoccupied with his frustration at himself that he didn’t even notice the growing tension in Sirius’ body, nor the way he began leaning away as Arthur ranted. The same mask of fear, false control, and misery had painted Sirius’ face as when his mother—god, he looked at Arthur like he looked at that horrible woman—came to forcibly trade him to the Snakes. “You all deserve an apology,” he corrected. “But you’re right.”

“Excuse me for a minute,” Remus muttered as he stood and headed toward the door. They watched him go without a word.

“How can I make this up to you?” Arthur asked.

Finn’s shoulders sagged. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.” A door down the hall creaked, and he prayed Sirius wasn’t suffering alone anymore.

“Apologize to Cap,” Dumo said.

“Absolutely.”

“Don’t—” Leo faltered, then pressed his lips together. “Don’t tell us we all share blame as a collective, then make Cap take the weight. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

Arthur’s throat tightened. “It is. I never should have done that to any of you.”

A few beats of quiet passed before Kuny raised his hand; Arthur nodded to him. “Don’t yell when angry, please. Very loud. We already know when you are upset.”

“I’m sorry, Evgeni. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Same as Kuny.”

“Can you give us specifics about what we did, next time?”

“Please don’t throw your clipboard.”

“I’ll stay another hour to go through tape, if that’s what it takes.”

“Try not to interrupt us, please.”

For the next five minutes, Arthur noted down every single suggestion he heard; several were followed by murmurs of agreement. “Anyone else?” he finally asked. The boys shook their heads. “Thank you for telling me. I promise I’ll do better in the future, and—”

The knock on the door was soft, but it echoed throughout the room and sent a bolt of nervousness through Arthur’s heart. Remus poked his head in a second later. “Coach, can we borrow you for a second?”

Arthur set his clipboard down and headed into the hall without hesitation.

Sirius…if he was being honest, Sirius was a wreck. His eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks were pink; a tissue was crumpled into little more than atoms in his fist. Still, he kept his chin up. Arthur hated the idea that Sirius thought he needed to brace himself with faux confidence.

“I’m sorry.”

Sirius’ lower lip wobbled once. “Thank you.”

“You kept them going out there even when they were ready to give up. We didn’t win, but we kept playing because of your leadership. Thank you.” He received a curt nod in response and pointedly ignored the tremor in both of Sirius’ hands. “I took my frustration out on you, which was wrong for many reasons, the least of which being that you don’t deserve to be talked to like that. Sirius, I truly am sorry for everything that just happened in there.”

“Apology accepted,” Sirius said. His voice was rough, but steady. “The guys didn’t deserve that, either.”

“I know. I apologized to them as well.”

“Good.” He sniffled once, then held his hand out for Arthur to shake. “In that case, I forgive you.”

“Thank you.”

Remus waited by the locker room door with an entirely neutral expression that would have unsettled Arthur if it didn’t melt into something soft and tired when he wrapped an arm around Sirius’ waist. “Ready?” he asked quietly.

The gentle buzz of conversation vanished as they entered again; Arthur sent them on their way with wishes for a good night’s sleep and a promise to talk more in the morning, and they trooped out in a tight group. As soon as the last of them disappeared down the hallway, he sat down in the nearest stall with a heavy sigh.

“That was impressive,” a voice remarked from the door. The bench creaked as Moody sat down next to him with a huff. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“Figured. Cap forgave you?”

“Thankfully.” Arthur rubbed his eyes until he saw spots. “Christ, Alastor, I sent him into a panic attack.”

“Asking what you can do to be better was a good move for all of them. That’ll serve you well in the long run.”

“I’m just grateful Loops didn’t break my kneecaps,” he laughed humorlessly. He stared down at the clipboard and the notes crammed into the margins for a long moment. “How did I fuck up that badly?”

Moody shrugged. “You’re human. You got upset. Don’t do it again. While you were in the hall, they were all saying how you didn’t seem like yourself, so I’d take that as a sign you’re doing something right. Just pay attention next time, and take some deep breaths.”

“You sound like Molly.”

A heavy hand landed on the back of his shoulder and gave him a light shake. “She’s a smart woman. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure my candy jar isn’t empty again. You have a team of locusts, Weasley.”

Arthur smiled at his retreating back. “Yeah, but they’re our locusts. You know you love ‘em.”

Moody’s glare was nothing but fond.

#sirius black #arthur weasley #remus lupin #james potter #pascal dumais #leo knut #finn ohara #kuny #coops #alastor moody #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #alarm bells

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bakugohoex · 3 years

Note

Are you going to make part 3 of jeans this isn’t a date?

part three: “this isn’t a date jean, we’re undercover”

pairing: jean kirschtein x female reader

cw: fluff, angst, season 4 spoliers, major character death, kissing and comfort

word count: 2700+

a/n: the poll went for fluff ending but i still added some angst, originally i was going to kill you off so yeah this is what you guy’s are getting, a moderate sad ending with jean’s comfort

summary: in which the time for fighting has begun and with the success of eren and the capture of zeke, the long journey ahead back to paradis seems to be your only concern, until the arrival of an unexpected warrior creates turbulence with jean realising his only goal now is to protect you

part one | part two

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

The shock and horror stayed on the Marleyans faces, the sound of Eren chewing Lord Tybur up as if he meant nothing and then there were you two. Jean gave a nod as you both parted, his hand being the last thing you felt on your own, a sign of the love you both held for one another. The way they all ran away in fear as Eren marched towards the Marleyan soldiers, he had murdered so many people in an instant. But you knew worst of all you were about to do the same thing to them all.

It all became a flash of thought, the way the war hammer titan’s bright yellow light rose up from the sky, you had begun flying closer to where the real action was. Leading a squad to easily infiltrate and kill the Marleyans, but even with these people by your side a sense of duty settled within you.

Soaring through the air past the buildings and rubble until you finally saw the scene first hand, the white war hammer already hurting Eren and the signs of canons hitting him. You knew what was to come just as the War Hammer titan began thinking she had won, the one indestructible force arrived. Mikasa swung with ease as you watched in the air, shooting and using the thunder spears, you shot up from the air with your own squad. The way you all at ease began using the spears to kill the soldiers with such ease.

“Good work guys.” You muttered slowly through the flames, moving closer onto where the canons were. You notice Jean a small smirk seeing you finally fighting after these past couple of months. He shot at the men who hadn’t been harmed, watching as you did the same. It began easier to swing with actual buildings and rubble, shooting at those who were fighting back, the fires and explosions that occurred bringing a sense of relief that you weren't the ones being murdered.

You and Jean swung through the air, seeing as he grabbed a man to get up to the roof. “Grab my hand.” He whispers as you easily get swung over onto the roof. Both you and Jean leave heavy breathes at all the blood on your hands. “Those morons.”

You both had seen the flash of another explosion, Jean more pissed off that normal, “Jean.” It was only a mere whisper, but he was pissed at Floch’s shooting.

“Hey! You gonna burn the whole zone down?!” What part of keeping civilian casualties to a minimum don’t you get, Floch?” You easily chased after the brunette, who began shouting at Floch as usual.

Floch turned to meet you both, staring at the scene in front of you of fires and explosions. You didn’t care for his words, but you saw as he began shaking his hands violently. You moved away from the two of them wanting to see the action and if any Marleyan soldiers were near to kill. Floch continued rambling onto Jean as you the cold hard truth had been brought to light. This was a battle to kill, the only ones you needed being Eren and his brother, revenge was the main cause of this all. Your people’s revenge.

“Y/n.” Jean softly whispers as you watch the fire, the men around you dead as you both begin waiting for the rest of the squads to meet here. You could already see the beacons of lights appear throughout the city, knowing the plan seemed to be working.

You turn to face Jean, even with blood across your fingers and clothes, he still looked at you as if you were the prettiest woman he had ever met. “I did promise a date if we got out of this right?” He touches your cheek softly, fire blazing across the ruined zone.

“You did but remember what I’ve said many times.” You paused as you urged him to think.

“This isn’t a date Jean, we’re undercover.” He mocked giving a sign as you playfully pushed his arm.

You see a Marleyan soldier in the distance, gun up ready to shoot you down. “Yeah, I do say that a lot, but move.” You shouted the last part, Jean in an instant moved to the other side finally seeing what you saw as you quickly shot the man down with the gun that had been at your side.

“Look at you saving me.” He mutters softly, if you haven't seen the man, they’d have gotten shot, he knew he’d have to keep protecting you but even then, he knew you could handle those idiot Marleyans yourself.

You both saw Connie and Sasha in an instant, Connie the first to say, “Jean, Y/n, we stalled the reinforcements.”

Jean went to the ground checking on the thunder spears as he turned to face them both, “and the lights?” You questioned.

“They’re all-in place.” Sasha spoke.

“Are things going well?” Connie questioned as both you and Jean looked at each other hesitantly.

“For the time being.” Jean almost whispers out as you turn to face the two of them properly. You all see Mikasa sore through the air as Jean continued, “as long as we take that thing out in time. But who knows? Anything can happen at this point. What’s to come when this battle is over? For us to know, we have to survive.”

The feeling that the last part had been directed at you felt unsettling, you would survive. You had to survive and be with Jean if that was the last thing you ever did. Mikasa shot the War Hammer Titan in the eye as you went to grab some thunder spears yourself, it felt like everything had easily worked in your favour with minimum casualties. Another flash of yellow leading to Eren’s Attack titan being seen with the hard form of one of the Tybur’s ready to be eaten.

“Come on Eren.” You softly whispered looking at the scene at hand, the way Eren was just about to eat it when the Jaw titan came out of nowhere. It seemed like you had spoken to soon, the four of you in shock as the Jaw titan bit into Eren’s neck until the blades hitting the enemy titan was heard from humanities greatest solider with murder on his mind.

The sound of guns shooting through the air made you startle until both you and Jean swung through the air. Ready to shoot at the Cart titan, Jean moved through the air, but it seemed the guns had become too much as both of you landed in a building. “Y/n.” Jean shouted bringing you behind a table as you heard the gunshots occur, he held his body around you as you cowered into him before it stopped. “I’ve got you.”

Instead the whole building rumbling at the sight of another titan coming, both you and Jean looked out through the broken window seeing it, “the Beast Titan.” Both you and Jean flew out from the building seeing the two other men follow in suit, before those around you got killed as well. “Jean, we have to stop them both.”

“I know.” He mutters before flying into a building with you beside him, the sounds of rubble falling from the broken-down rocks that the Beast Titan had thrown at you all. “Y/n, you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You mutter from the ground, the sign of a much brighter light occurred, and you knew exactly who it was, Armin had transformed destroying the ships. Swinging through the air as Levi quickly dropped the Beast Titan in a matter of seconds. Distracting the Cart’s titans weapons seemed easy enough but with the mass amounts of weapons you couldn’t tell and that’s what allowed Sasha to easily shoot one of the men down. The Cart titan began moving towards Sasha, Jean in an instant appearing putting a spear right in the eye as you and the men watched before the command was heard.

“Now! Fire!” It was all you all needed to shoot down the Cart titan in a matter of seconds, fire blazing as you had won against the titan. Flying away from the scene with ease with the other members of the Survey Corps, you stood on the roof watching the men shoot upwards towards you Jean and the rest of the group. The sight of the airship surrounding the air brought a relief to you, you could finally go home, leave Marley with a victory.

“It's here.” Connie spoke just as you flew onto the roof where the rest of the guys were.

“Yeah. Right on time.” You bent down to meet Jean, a hand on his shoulder as he gave a soft sign knowing that you were safe.

A victory had been won, the gain of the War Hammer titan and Eren’s defeat of Reiner’s titan seemed to come with no cost to your friends. “I’ve run out of gas.” You whisper to Jean.

“Grab onto me.” He holds your waist as you put your arm around his neck, both ready to finally go home. He grabs onto the ship, your body still on his own as he shouts, “protect the airship from the enemy below.”

You couldn’t do a lot in this state, but victory had occurred, and you could finally go home. Being helped up by Connie and Sasha you could finally feel safe, before helping Jean up himself. Both lying beside each other with a heavy breath, Jean finally spoke, “who’s here?”

“We’re still waiting for Squad Lima in the front.” Connie speaks watching how Jean's hand had moved to your own as the two came closer to you both.

Sasha spoke of the death toll, before the excitement of Floch and the rest of the corps occurred over a successful victory. Jean whispered some words that were barely audible and that’s when he felt it, your arms wrapped around him, he kissed the side of your head allowing his arms to wrap around you as well. Connie brought Sasha along with him to elope himself onto the two of you, it felt just as it had in your first years as a Cadet. One happy family was brought together again.

It brought a smile to your face, but with Jean there always seemed to be a problem, “that hurts, idiot. Don’t hug people with that lump of iron on.” He watched you all leave his side, but his arms almost missed your touch.

“Jean don’t be mean.” You chuckle as Connie begins mocking Jean’s unsuccessful beard. Sasha began questioning about food as you began remembering the days when the three of you would have to hear Sasha go on about the next meal occurring.

“We’re finally going home.” Jean mutters looking at you as he stands up to meet your gaze fully. He grabs your waist with an ease before giving you a soft kiss on your lips, he stopped caring about those around you both. Watching as melted right into his touch. “I love you.” He whispers through it all.

You grab his hair to bring him down, his tongue flicking inside your own as it entangled with your own. Before finally taking a breath of your own away from him, Connie and Sasha’ eyes go wide. “I love you too.” Jean held your hand softly before you both turned to your two friends.

“I fucking told you, didn’t I, you owe me meat when we get back.” Sasha happily spoke to Connie, as you both went beside them listening to the hurray’s of victory.

Sasha had whispered something to Jean making the boy let go of your hand to shut the people up, “Hey, quiet down!” You moved to the side to let him past, feeling his hand on your back to make them all be quieter.

You continued hearing the celebrations, Connie asking about Lobov as you were just glad that all your friends seemed to be safe. You stood on the other end of Jean beside the wall, leaning against it as you almost wished you could have the same innocence in this celebration that the others had.

The sound of a child behind you made you all startle, seeing a girl with her gun raised, “Sasha.” You shouted but the bullet had already been shot right into her chest. You were unable to move, eyes widening as you easily caught her just before she was about to hit the ground. You slowly let her down, eyes widening at how blood seeped onto your clothes and hands, she stayed in your arms, her head against your knees as tears formed in your eyes. “Sasha, come on, you...you’ll make it, come on.”

Just as Gabi was ready to shoot again, Jean put his gun out, but the other cadets got at her and the boy first. Connie came running towards Sasha, hand on her cheek, “stay with us!”

“Pl...please, don’t leave me.” You whispered, feeling her head become heavy on your, blood continuing to seep out. Jean knelt beside you as he saw the tears drop down your face and fall down your own. “Sasha.” You wept out.

She began speaking about food, her breath heavy as Connie pleaded for her to continue, with her last words being the one thing she truly loved, Connie watched as he got bandaged up, your body encased in blood as tears continued to drop down your face with no end. She was your best friend, and you couldn’t do anything, Jean could barely even look at her near dead state, his gaze ending up on the two children after Floch had called him.

You tried to suppress your tears, you did but every time you faced your friend, more and more formed. Your breathing irregular as it became harder and harder to even speak a word. The sound of the child's voice shouting about devils and other shit, made your tears turn into anger, in an instant you went right up to her face ready to punch her yourself. “Y/n.” Jean gave a soft whisper, “take them with me.” You continued to be filled with rage as you walked them down to where the rest of your friends were.

Armin was the first to notice the blood across your body and the puffed-up eyes, but the two children had brought about more confusion instead. Their eyes widened at the sight of Zeke, you didn't care for their confusion, instead Levi asked who they were. Unable to speak, you let Jean speak until the very end, “this girl shot Sasha.” Tears welled up in your eyes again, “it...it doesn’t seem like she will make it…”

Armin and Mikasa ran past the two of you, you could barely move to run with them. Your legs felt heavy as you sobbed at your words, tears continuing to fall down your face. Standing in the corner, your hands at your eyes as you sobbed quietly, you prayed she would be okay. Hoped for a miracle to occur where everything was fine, and she never actually got shot. But that’s when you felt the blood on your clothes, the blood on your face and hands. The blood everywhere, Jean began shouting at Yelena, you ignored all sounds as all you wanted to hear was your crying.

The sound of the door opening made you move to see who it was, Connie appearing with a horrified face, as you and Jean both stared at him. “Sasha…” He paused making your head think she was okay, that she was alive, “she’s dead.”

Your whole life crumbled in an instant, you felt your knees go weak as you fell to the ground, Jean catching you as he felt with you, his arms around you. You sobbed into his shoulder, wailing with no end. Your friend was dead, the girl you had grown up gone in a matter of seconds, dead because of a stupid little girl.

Jean’s eyes widened as tears formed his own eyes as he held you close. He stopped caring about the mission, stopped hearing others, only seeing you. He couldn’t let what had happened to Sasha occur to you, he couldn't. He would protect you with his last breath, and now with you in his arms a crying mess, he’d keep that promise he made to you when you had just met at 12, he’d keep the promise. Never wanting to see you cry like this ever again, because you were always going to be his, and he’d be damned to let anything happen to you.

go back to part two

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sugar-petals · 3 years

Text

:: random things about boyfriend yoongi

↳ ♡ NOTE I saw this format floating around the fandom and thought it was cool and sweet (just like our honey boy so here it goes) 😊 includes an sfw and nsfw bit, both can be read independently.

words. 3k

SFW

First off, Yoongi is laid-back and casually sexy the way we know him. But he also has spikes of energy where he actually gets a little clingy. Any opportunity he will use to hold hands or jump around like a madman with his gummy smile because he got excited about something that you never could predict would make him so happy. He truly is an epiphany.

He’s your most eager personal chef but funnily enough a little unsettled by onions so you end up helping him. Yoongi hates to be crying in the kitchen because of some evil little vegetable but hey, perfect time and place to spend half an hour huddled together cooking or baking. And Yoongi is secretly longing for a cheesy scene, he finds it romantic when you wipe the tears from his face.

His way of speaking to you is a mix of mumbly Korean, high-pitched pouty cat speak, and old-school English slang phrases that he learned somewhere on social media or award shows back in 2018. Most of the time he takes things seriously but is up for some joking anyway. He is sure to giggle every now and then which is really adorable of him. Yoongi is also the person who gets every nuance of your humor and reacts to it.

After being single, you really have to get used to someone waddling around the house. Like— oh, he’s there! And it’s none other than him! Since Yoongi isn’t noisy when he concentrates on his laptop, it really stands out when he morphs from his unmovable rock-like being to a slow rolling stone headed towards the kitchen from time to time. You have to blink every time. And how could you not look up, he’s walking by with his cutest oversized sweaters and striped fluffy socks.

He cannot hide things that normal people would try to keep secret — because of their own discomfort, but he is good at blocking out things that serve your comfort. I’ll explain what I mean. If you have been keeping up with Yoongi postponing the reveal of his surgery until it was successful, you know what I mean. In short, Yoongi is pretty much an automatic filter for things that disturb you. Knowing the right time and place to inform you is the key. As is disregarding things that don’t concern you as a couple, unnecessary drama and opinions. He’s really good at that without ever trying to sugar-coat the important things because he remains a frank and honest soul.

Yoongi has an easier time giving random presents for simple occasions rather than making a big deal out of traditional festivities. So, big celebrations are often kept simple — unless the rest of BTS is there advocating their ‘a little party never killed nobody’ motto — while Yoongi focuses on getting you something attentive or useful every other day pretty much. He’s still a frugal type, you know him. It’s more about inexpensive things that catch his eye because he heard you likes this or that type of snack or want this or that sofa cushion.

There’s always something new and surprising in the fridge and it’s hardly ever empty because Yoongs takes care of the groceries, really thinking it through. Just personal chef things. Being Yoongi’s partner must be the most destressing thing. He takes responsibility for the worldly things, the ironing clothes and the trash cans. He himself thinks that’s the easiest shit ever and is ready to put time into it (he sees the merit, it drives him) while thinking your side — the sheer act of being in love with him, being there for him — must be hard. Which it isn’t.

Yoongi thinks emotions and relationships are tough and complicated while daily life runs smoothly at the snap of a finger. You think maintenance is a drudgery while love is not the maze your boyfriend assumes it is. Deep down Yoongi thinks he’s unlovable and a bad person, that’s why he believes he doesn’t have the burden but you have. That your affection then blazes past the barriers in Yoongi’s esteem is something that he finds incredible. It catches him off guard there, you burst the bubbles of the flaws he falsely imagines he has.

You bet your ARMY bomb you’re watching cat videos together.

Guess who’s the first person to hear all of Yoongi’s upcoming hit tracks? Even Namjoon gets the first sample ten minutes later. You gotta be really advanced at keeping secrets and avoiding accidental leaks with your phone or something.

Yoongi hesitates with the analogy because it’s a little funny and you’re evidently not a steaming liquid made of beans, but he claims you really are like his daily americano. Makes his every morning better.

Now, in all seriousness. What means the most to him is that you take him how he is and are stable company. Yoongi is afraid of betrayal and stupid games so he has to be sure to have a safe bet going. I think that’s why he fancies marriage, it’s a sign of commitment and some degree of permanence to him. And yes, he is a bit jealous in nature since he’s easily invested in someone with a purity of feeling, almost in a naive way. Yoongi easily idolizes his partner and puts a lot of energy into a bond. He wants to protect that, take the risk, and he has watched for someone who radiates genuine trust and faith. He is sure to have found it in you without any illusions and he is right. Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty.

Playing the piano for dinner or date night is a must, he practices constantly to advance to a great standard. He secretly finds a lot of satisfaction in you cooing at his skills and melodies. Those ten bony fingers gliding over the keys with such a technicality and focus, and a passion that makes you hold your breath, it’s great to watch.

Did you see that one coming? He will compose and produce a designated mixtape only for you personally. Yes, with a little self-filmed, self-cut music video for the title track.

Now those things never see the light of day, they’re all for you. But what about your couple life once it touches the social realm? As one might expect, Yoongi is very ‘eyes turn narrow’ with people who bring disharmony to your dynamic and the relationship in general. In fact, he is grumpy and disappointed, and should someone give him a reason, distinctly brutal. If someone even attempts to test you or plays manipulative games, Yoongi is relentlessly turning them from the inside out with his words that never miss the mark. They’re efficient. As I said, he hates playing annoying games, he’ll do any shortcut and be Yoongi.

I guarantee you can lean back and will never the fazed by stupid people and time wasters again. No need to lose face. Yoongi does the dirty work and is the best possible defender to have on your side. He handles that. Invasive opinions and useless phrases he will shove right up some trashtalker’s ass and leave. Let’s squarely say he is unafraid to be a armchair critic of your and his haters and doesn’t want any of that nuisance to disturb what you have together. He cuts very quick and makes sure not to get tangled up in trouble.

Yoongi will also debunk a whole bunch of weirdos on weverse asking about your private love while he’s at it. Prepare for some very entertaining snide remarks. Oh my god, so many entitled people will be pissed off. Many will also celebrate him for stepping up. What’s actually important to Yoongi is that nobody taints what is like a treasure to him.

It won’t be hard to overlook that Yoongi is very proud of you as well. He looks confident and revering when he hangs out with the group and you’re somewhere close by, even just doing something trivial.

He’s also pretty touchy, sometimes publically to demonstrate something, but mostly in the relative calm and safety of a hotel room. When the lights are out, all barriers crash, the utter romantic takes over. His favorite types of kisses besides those onto his hands are when you kiss his lashes. And yep. Yoongs is such a cozy little spoon. A very curled up one with cute shooky pajamas on most likely.

Talk about clothes. Believe it or not, Yoongi’s fashion goes through a significant change due to the relationship. He knows that you are touchy and thinks about what kinds of flannels are the biggest cuddle magnet, after all. And oh wonder, he will also show some level of skin when he accidentally hears your praises for his arms and legs and collar bones and glowy skin while talking to a close friend of yours. So, look forward to that in summer (he still dislikes the winter cold and wraps himself into scarves twice his size, mind you) though it’s still for your eyes only, he covers up when going out. Truth be told, he enjoys when you casually touch his skin. Especially the arms. Which hold up the firmament to you, and your world, too, and guard it.

BTS will know about how excited he is about you because he often boasts about for how long you’ve been living together by now. We all know this is Yoongi’s favorite way of bragging and it further shows that loyalty, dedication and longevity is the spice to his every meal.

Yoongi is probably going to quit the bottle because you naturally make him feel at ease and upbeat. In fact, he simply forgets about his wine. I don’t have to convince you that Yoongi will be very immersed in any interaction with you whether that be watching movies or discussing his latest tracks.

Those discussions come with extra back massages for him because he spends a lot of hours in his chair. Especially around the neck, it’s no secret that this is in every cat’s top 3 favorite massaging areas. Yoongi is gonna make some really raspy, sleepy sounds and just melt in your hands. He’s gonna sleep like a baby afterwards every time. Sometimes, he says funny and cute things while he dozes. He looks very content.

Say goodbye to the 21st century adulting annoyances in your life because Yoongi has a grip on those without a word. Those six specific chores that always plague you take him only a dozen minutes and he is eager, the forms to fill out are already sent off, the list of people to e-mail is weeded through. The taxes are paid, the bank account is full, the meals are on the table, garnished to perfection. Roof over the head, and it’s a sturdy one, Yoongi bought a sound haven house to inhabit a lot of happiness for two.

He’s probably the only person who doesn’t see it as a loss of dignity if you want to hold on tight to him during a dentist visit as a grown ass mf. Why all of this? Yoongi cannot not strive to feel needed in his actions. He wouldn’t like himself if he couldn’t contribute something reliable and useful. That you find things worthy of your time is priority. You complement each other, what you think is a waste of energy makes him work and strive and vice versa. That way, in the end all things are taken care of.

Giving is more important than taking in Yoongi’s world. He thinks of everything because he considers it an offense to have you in a pile of duties, that is, if you don’t like ‘em. It’s his form of dedicating his efforts and showing respect. He doesn’t need much in return. The things he expects if at all don’t feel like a duty: Much like he doesn’t consider doing those acts of services for you likewise.

Work horse he is, he needs something on his daily to-do plan. Which includes making you feel unbothered by the occasions of an incoming strict world when it’s getting to you. You’re supposed to do what you feel like doing just like him and not slave away at fifty deeds. That you torture yourself with daily life hassle is the thing he dislikes seeing the most. He enjoys doing these things so he’s happy to get going.

What’s not a daily life hassle: Holly is a big fan of yours. Instant friendship. Just wanted you to know.

He always knows how to preoccupy himself and finds something to improve. Getting on your nerves, and that’s no surprise, is the last thing Yoongi will ever do. In fact, you sometimes have to search for his napping spot because he got lost somewhere in the house.

He either sleeps or works, his philosophy is simple. If you need him, he does appear seemingly out of nowhere. And, he spends as much time with you as you enjoy, not always prioritizing his producing unless it’s urgent or he’s on an inspiration streak. Which is great anyway, you can sit next to him listening. It’s the right balance of work and play.

Yoongi is not above blatantly showing off. Actually, he goes for an act of stunning pretty often. You know how cats parade around whatever they just caught. He wants to impress you with assets and accolades and appraisals, the boy can’t help it. That you only lightly nod at most of it with a little smile will confuse him but he will get the point later on. You wanna signal Yoongi that you anchor your love for him not in shifting numbers and chunky metal pieces.

That you don’t confuse his signs of outward worth and fame with the core of the guy you find the sweetest in the world is very important to him. He will take some time to see through that because he’s used to being loved through status and its symbols by people close and afar.

The way you throw yourself at him to give a big smooch in random situations — especially when he doesn’t feel great about himself— rather than only when he say gets a new car is sending him a message. Again, he has to grow into that. He will retreat at the beginning because he feels worthless of your affection on days where he doesn’t feel big and bold and successful. But since he sees you jumping on him because you need only his kind and squishy presence and see him as no different than usual because he’s always Yoongi underneath, your boyfriend will change his mind about it sooner or later. He learns that your presence makes him feel like a billion dollars yourself.

You don’t wallow in the regrets of other people missing the point of Yoongi and instead focus on always understanding him rather than enabling Yoongi into wrong directions. And there are many of those, his mental health can tell you a thing or two about it. He begins to get that you really know what you’re doing and are in it for the real him which makes him feel really loved far underneath all surfaces and images. You accept his fame and admire his work with music which is what he’s truly doing it for but also don’t forget that the most vulnerable Yoongi is the one that you’re there for and not a facade.

NSFW

I know you’re curious. That Yoongi’s sexual style is more than just interesting goes without saying. To give you an idea. Anything steamy with Yoongi means him taking his time. You know, for making it quality. Yoongi wants to grow into the right balance of activity and staying relaxed. He is good at keeping cool and bringing some focus to the madness. He wants to figure out how to be more casual instead of tense and overly preoccupied which he’ll be at the start of the relationship. But the fast learner he is, his nervousness fades way faster than you think.

Yoongi is extremely afraid that he can’t please you or starts to become awkward slash clueless so he darts to the opposite of the spectrum and overperforms, even plays a character. You have enough cool yourself to tell him what to do in the pace that works best. That he stays centered in his body is important for you to teach him. When he gets grounded and juggling his confidence is out of the equation, he fucks the best.

His favorite position besides giving oral — with you on your back — will be doggy style. Man, we gotta talk about that. Slow to upper moderate pace, nothing too all over the place. Yoongi moans very slowly, too, all drawn out. Get ready for a frequent session of some anal to unwind. You heard that right. First, Yoongi will get the two of you into the right rhythm with his hands at the sides of your waist, then, ride it out in slow mo with his right hand properly stimulating you from the front.

By habit, he will add some lube here and there but not use insanely dripping amounts so everything gets messy or he can’t touch you without sliding off anymore. Just enough to slide well. Yoongi is so good at this I swear, it’ll be your favorite thing to relax. He has the restraint and technique to pull it off rather than pulling out, huh. Yoongi is gonna stay inside you for ages. It feels like he’s massaging every spot for some extra time. It’s amazing to slack off your muscles, cool off, and get many a gentle but fulfilling orgasm.

He’s not gonna put you through the hassle of dealing with an anal creampie cleanup so he keeps it wrapped, and mostly focuses on your movements altogether while keeping his own climax smooth and more relieving rather than something that relentlessly knocks him out in one go. Yoongi is good at observing and doesn’t feel the need to chase a violent high which is why he is so great at sex. Fucking with Yoongi leaves a wholesome feeling and you never feel ashamed or guilty, or a sense of being dirty and ruined.

He enjoys having sex to make you feel really good and works his hands on you very respectfully. His goal is to have you wet and pulsing after a long while of getting you there, and putting you to a good night’s sleep. He’d feel terrible if he left you sore or disturbed. He is really passionate, especially with his kisses or when you ask him to slide into very deeply, but Yoongi being brash and controlling is an image out of sight.

Besides giving you the number one heavenly assfucks, Yoongi also likes to work his tongue as we know, and he’ll work it all over. Few body parts of yours have not made contact with that glorious mouth and I say that in the best of ways. You can instruct him to do whatever, Yoongi obliges with radiant joy. And here again, he takes minutes upon minutes. Kissing and kissing and licking and maybe even teasing once or twice to make you smile. You know, a little signature wink. Honoring your skin and every shape is not something that Yoongi has to talk about, he will physically show it and I swear it’ll finally get into your head with every little move, Yoongi has totally surrendered his tongue to your body and worships it.

#yoongi #yoongi hc #bts smut #yoongi smut #bts #yoongi x reader #boyfriend yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #bts x reader #boyfriend bts #bts bullet points #bangtan

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daaedoodles · 2 years

Note

i feel like i have to say reesker for the ship asks lol :)

you DO have to say reesker ‼️answering these in context of pieces!au but my like idea of reesker in general is so stuck in my au,,. so oops.

who said i love you first

sarah 🥺 i’m spoiling a chapter idea here but oh well. like in s4e5, a man with huntington’s disease comes into ava’s care except it’s sarah working on the case with her and not dr charles. after ava blows up at sarah (like in the episode, dr charles stands by and refuses to do anything to save the patient since it’s against his wishes, sarah does the same) she storms off and sarah chases after her. ava cries and questions sarah and begs her to save him and sarah explains to her why she can’t help and listens to her, calming her down before pulling her into a hug. sarah just blurts it out, a quiet i love you as she just gently strokes avas hair, but once she does she doesn’t regret it because she knows she means it, and she does with her whole heart.

who would have the other’s picture as their phone background?

sarah! her phone lock screen for the longest time is the med christmas party from her first year at med (when she was a medical student) and her phone background is a plain pale pink. when she and ava start becoming close, she changes it to a photo connor took of the both of them hugging and smiling eachother half drunk at molly’s. this happens way before they start dating or she even actually considers that she might love ava as more than a friend, and once they start dating she looks back on it thinking she’s a total numbskull for not realising

who leaves notes in the fog on the bathroom mirror?

ava for sure. when they start living together, ava always showers first in the morning (plus she takes hot showers she hates cold or like body-temp showers) since she takes shifts an hour before sarah’s. it kind of becomes apart of their routine and ava leaves little things like “i love you” and “you’re beautiful” or “i miss you”. they’re usually smaller notes and written in the middle of the mirror, usually with a semi-scary huge smiley face like :) this one to the side. ava learns after a while that sarah thinks it’s kind of unsettling and swaps to :] this. w

who buys the other cheesy gifts?

sarah, it starts with her buying ava an anatomically correct heart pin (which ava looks at for a second before she reaches out and pins it on the collar of sarah’s shirt, telling her “keep it. you have my heart already” to which sarah pretty much dies internally and has no idea how to respond) so she decides to up her game, matching keychains, necklaces, a ridiculously expensive stethescope, on a sick day she also makes an entire jar of notes of reasons why she loves ava. ava tries but she always comments whenever she receives things like the last one that sarah has way too many good ideas and she will never be able to outdo her.

who initiated the first kiss?

ava! sarahs cute and all but she’s too nervous to initiate a kiss. it’s winter in chicago, sarah and ava are both bundled up in their warmest coats. they’re on a date, technically. ava asked her out too, and sarah said yes. it’s near christmas time and sarah’s started going on about how pretty the snow is and even though she’s freezing her butt off its worth it while she’s just staring at the trees and lights, looking away from ava. when she turns back ava is staring at her a little dumbly, “what?” sarah asks, and under her breath, ava tells her that that it’s pretty out here but she’s prettier. sarah buries her face into her scarf, turning red. ava then asks if it’s okay if she could kiss her and sarah is pretty much stunned, breathing out and nodding before ava raises her hand to hold sarah’s cheek, kissing her.

who kisses the other awake in the morning?

ava again, like i said before her shift starts an hour before sarah’s do most days, and sarah also is not a morning person. they cuddle with eachother to sleep a lot, or hold eachothers hands (and sarah uses ava as a pillow a lot, it’s comfortable don’t judge her). ava kisses her on the forehead or cheek while sarah is asleep, sometimes right before she’s about to leave and sometimes sarah wakes up, half asleep and grumpy her girlfriend has to go.

who starts tickle fights?

SARAH! i agree with u peach ava is secretly ticklish like,, i just feel like she would be and this is the hill i die on. she finds out when they’re watching a movie, ava’s laid across the couch with her head on her lap and sarah has her hands rubbing up and down ava’s back but she accidentally touches her waist and she flinches and squeaks. they still need to watch that movie again because neither of them remember the end of it since sarah was way too busy tickling and teasing ava for being ticklish, and ava was too busy being tortured by her girlfriend. now sarah uses the “i will tickle you” if ava’s being stubborn about not wanting to go to bed or go out or shower

who asks the who if they can join the other in the shower?

depends but i think ava mostly? on bad days sarah doesn’t shower and she hates it a lot (even on ‘good days’ she dreads showering) so ava usually takes her in and helps to bathe her (while giving her lots of hugs and little kisses because sarah deserves it and ava is so proud of her for coming to shower because she knows it’s hard sometimes)

who surprises the other in the middle of the work day with lunch?

possibly ava, i think she’d start making sarah lunches or buying her coffees and snacks to make sure she has enough to eat. she’d also sit there and comfort sarah if she couldn’t eat it or didn’t feel like it because sometimes she feels guilty her girlfriend put in all the effort and she can’t even do it, but avas always understanding and helps sarah one little step at a time. sometimes they split oreo packs or mandarins when sarah doesn’t feel up to finishing it all but she wants to try.

who was nervous and shy the first date?

oops i semi answered this one but sarah. ava’s the one who actually asked sarah to go on a date with her even though sarah was very open about how confused she was about their relationship (she still couldn’t actually gain the courage to actually DO anything like kiss her or ask her out) and still even after ava asks her out, on the first date sarah’s all flustered and nervous until they fall into their usual routine halfway, and before ava kisses her she turns into a nervous wreck again.

who kills/takes out spiders?

ava! sarah hates spiders but ava’s used to them and just insects in general. she never kills the spiders, she always catches it and takes the effort to actually go down to the first floor to throw it out. sarah thinks she’s insane for not killing them because hello it’s a big scary 8 legged monster looking thing that could bite either of them and send them to the ER, but ava always tells her the spiders are more afraid of her than she is of it.

who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk?

ava, again. sarah doesn’t drink anymore (sometimes when she’s upset she still does a little bit) and on the off chance she does recreationally she only drinks enough to get a little bit tipsy and giggly, but ava drinks like a champ and takes quite a while before she gets drunk. though even when she gets a little drunk, she starts boasting to everyone at molly’s about how she has the best girlfriend and how she’s the luckiest girl in the world. sarah thinks it’s endearing but also is very quick to shut things down if ava drank too much.

#pieces!au #ship asks #mutuals <3 #peach tag #reesker #piece by piece thread #sarah reese #chicago med #chicago med fanfiction #ava bekker

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

Text

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts

PART 11:

It’s been a long day. A long, arduous, day of plastering on your best customer service voice and smiling pretty for each and every person that walked through your door. Luckily though, your last patient was waiting just behind the door. Rubbing a tired hand down your face, you stride in, trying to look cheerful.

“Hello! So I see from your chart that you’ve-“

The sight that greets you is not what’s on your clipboard. It leaves you stopped in your tracks- trying to figure out why there was a child where a grown woman should’ve been sitting. You check your paper again, making sure you’ve got the right room. You do, and that just confuses you all over again.

The little boy is dirtied, grime lining his cheeks and staining his clothes- he is clearly not the middle aged woman who was on your schedule for today. His hair is a little matted, oily and very obviously unkempt, but that's not what worries you the most. No, what worries you the most is his skin.

All across his forearms, and down his legs is strange tearing. It's like the skin as been split from the inside out, leaving behind a pattern of angry red scabbing and pink scars. They're not clean slices either; the edges are clearly jagged. The cuts were laced together, overlapping and intersecting in a pattern not consistent with any blade or claw you'd ever seen before, and you had seen almost everything.

The sight leaves you reeling, but you don’t falter. A measly schedule mix-up wouldn’t throw you off this easily, especially not with how clearly this little boy needs your help.

"Alright, do you think you could give me your arm?" You ask gently, trying your best to sound friendly. You're not sure if it really matters though- the boy looks straight past you. Focuses his eyes on the wall behind you, like you're not even there. "Can I have your arm? Just to clean up the wound, I promise. It looks like it hurts a lot, and I'd love to help you feel better."

The boy looks at you then, and you're horrified by what you see. He looks at you, big gray eyes and dark eyelashes, but there's nothing there. Absolutely nothing. It's like looking into a void, and all you can see is your own reflection in his irises. It leaves you unsettled. Itching in your own skin, almost tempted to look away.

The boy puts his arm out. Holds it completely straight, locking his elbow robotically. His face stays perfectly impassive. He doesn't even blink while the open cut visibly shifts with his sudden movement.

"I- alright, I'm just gonna clean around the wound. Sound good?" You try again, taking his tiny arm in your hands.

Under your fingers tips all you can feel is skin and bones. He's practically skeletal, and you can't see any veins under skin that was already paper-thin. You're not sure who this boy is, where he came from- but you could tell from a mile away; he didn't have anybody looking out for him.

The thought made your heart break, made your fingers itch with the need to take all his pain away. Fueled by that, you did your best to clean his wound quickly.

It was a fairly large wound, but it wasn't very deep. That would have been a bright side except when you took a closer look, this new cut resembled all the old scars lining his arms and legs. Whatever did this to him, whatever caused the tearing and the weird pattern of scarring, had been doing it for a long time. A disturbingly long time considering the state of the rest of his body.

The current wound is no longer actively bleeding, but it definitely isn’t scabbed yet. Its vulnerable to the air and to infection, so you quickly start cleaning it. The boy doesn’t move the entire time- not even wincing when you spray disinfectant on the cut. It’s the strangest thing you’d ever seen. It was like the boy wasn’t even in the room with you at all. Like he was somewhere else entirely.

He only needs a few stitches, for the broadest part of the cut, but the boy doesn’t react when you tell him that either. He doesn’t flinch when you smear the cold numbing gel, nor does he even blink when you thread your needle. He watches the entire time though- empty eyes tracking each time the needle sinks into his skin. The process is over and done with in minutes, but nothing feels simple. Everything feels wrong and your fingers still itch red-hot beneath your gloves.

A part of you is tempted to use your quirk, just for a second, to see what he was feeling. To try and connect with him at all, since none of your earlier attempts had even remotely worked. But you don’t, you don’t do that- even was you begin cleaning up. You keep your hands to yourself as you wrap up the extra gauze, terrified of what you’d feel if you touched him.

The boy suddenly murmurs something, voice hardly a whisper.

You can’t make out his words- not from where you are a few steps away. So you near a little bit, taking care not to scare him with any sudden movements. He watches you, mouth pressed into a neutral line until you’re close. Then he chews his cheek, takes a deep breath and speaks.

“I-I’m sorry.” The boy whispers.

He shoots forward grabbing onto your wrist with tiny fingers. A chill like you’ve never experienced before runs through you.

It’s like your blood’s gone glacial- freezing up and stalling the flow in your veins. Goosebumps cover your skin almost immediately, teeth threatening to chatter after hardly a few seconds. You’re frozen in place, fear squeezing your heart in your chest, and all your can do is look at the small child holding on to your forearm.

His face is no longer neutral. His eyes are staring right back at you, wide and unbelieving. You can see now that his eyes aren’t translucent gray. They are blue. Pure blue when they catch the white light from the ceiling above and not the dull grey of the floor tiles. You only catch it for a second, then he’s dropping his head, throwing your arm away from him.

“I’m sorry.” He says again.

You spin on your heels, eyes wide. He doesn’t sound like a child. Throughout your time at the hospital, you’d seen many children come and go through the doors, but he didn’t sound like any of them. He sounded withered, tired, like even speaking took the wind out of him. It was a hollowness that had your heart stopping in your chest.

Then he kicks his foot behind him, grabbing at a handle shoved between his heel and the back of the shoe. All you see is the glint of the blade as he unsheathes it and your blood runs even colder than before. You bring your hands up, defensive and terrified but he just blinks at you. Blinks at you and doesn’t even flinch as he drags the serrated blade up the entire length of his forearm. Blood pools around the wound and drips onto the floor, forming an unnaturally perfect circle in front of him. You’re freaked, but the boy is passive. Passive even as the blood congeals, turning thicker and darker until it’s black.

He steps forward, into the center of the black puddle. The void eats him whole.

Your heart lurches in your chest, pulse speeding up, as you watch the void begin to shift once more. The boy’s blood retreats into itself, twisting and pulsating until it’s completely gone. The floor is spotless, and you’re left suffocating.

You can’t remember leaving the room, only bursting through the backdoors and into the cool night. You brace an arm against the brick wall, and snap at the waist gasping for air.

“Oi- leech. Leech.” He calls, and when you look over he’s suddenly right next to you. “What’s up with you, huh? Called your name. What, couldn’t fuckin’ hear me or somethin’?”

You hear his voice now, but it doesn’t do anything to quell the panic. Your heart is racing. “Bakugou. I need to-“ Your breath catches. “Fuck, there was this kid and he- cuts all up his arm and then he took out a knife and s-sliced-“

“A knife.” Bakugou repeats, eyes like wildfire even in the dark. “Where—what the fuck are you talking about? Slow down, can’t understand a damn thing.”

You try to listen to him, you really do, but even repeating the words makes you feel sick.

Throughout your years as a nurse, you’d seen a lot of gore. You’d seen more injuries, and more blood, and more horrific aftermaths than you could recall, but something about this boy made you sick. Maybe it was his small frame- how he couldn’t be any older than 11. Maybe it all the scars lining his arms. Maybe it was his quirk. The way he had to gravely injure himself just to use it.

You try to explain, but the words are coming out wrong. They’re clipped and panicked and Bakugou looks unhappier with each new one punched from your lungs.

“Stop- stop.” He says, fists clenched at his sides. “Did he come at you? Try to get you with the knife?”

“No- I- he got himself. Bakugou, he took the knife and cut himself. And all the blood, it just- it pooled on the floor and turned black and then he stepped in it!” You’re gasping now, hands out in front of you making a wide circle to demonstrate. “He disappeared and I don’t know where he went and I- he was bleeding so much. He was bleeding and he was covered in all these scars and he just cut himself and didn’t- and didn’t-”

You watch Bakugou curl his lip, shifting on his feet. He doesn’t say anything. Not for a long moment, and then he’s surging forward, large hands on your shoulders and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“You need to breathe.” He says, voice quiet. Like he meant it to carry for just the two of you. “You need to breathe. Can’t do anything if you pass out in the street. So breathe. Just breathe.”

Bakugou squeezes your shoulders, thumbs digging into your collarbone until you look up at him. His eyes are wild, like solar flares, darting back and forth across your face. It’s obvious he doesn’t like what he sees. Still, you try to follow him. Try to look to his own ribcage for guidance until your world stops spinning.

You’re not sure how long you stand there. With his hands on your shoulders, trying to remember how to breathe. It sort of feels like forever.

“I- I need to,” You say suddenly. There’s something caught in the back of your throat, causing you to clear it before speaking once more. “I need to do something. Find him. I-I need to find him. I can’t. He’s bleeding.”

“I know. But you’re staying here. You can’t be reckless.”

Bakugou’s eyes are still blazing, but his voice isn’t like you’ve ever heard it before. It’s quiet, even, just low enough for you and you alone to hear. His thumbs on your collarbone are tracking gentle circles- you wonder if he knows he’s doing it at all.

“You’re gonna go home.” He says. “I’ll take you home, and then I’ll go back out and look. But you’re not goin’ anywhere like this. It’s reckless. Understand?”

Every bone in your body screams for you to fight- to tear off down the alley shouting and screaming until you found the little boy that so desperately needed help. But that seems impossible with the way Bakugou is looking at you now- so sure and certain of his plan. Like there’s no room for argument. Even if you tried to run, you’re sure he’d just catch you.

“You’ll look?” You ask quietly, all wide eyes looking up at him. “I- I need you to promise me. Promise me. Please.”

He squeezes your shoulders once, averting his eyes. “Yep. I will. Promise.”

Then he’s retreating like he’s been burnt, spinning away from you. He drops his hands by his sides, flexing his fingers, and starts off down the alley.

You figure that Bakugou expects you to follow, but your shaking makes that a tall order to fill. Still, you put one foot in front of the other, trying not to see pooling blood in each shadow that lines the empty street.

“What’s he look like?” Bakugou asks suddenly, just a few feet in front of you. “How old?”

“Um, blue eyes, but they look grey unless you really see them. Dark hair. He wouldn’t say his age, or anything really, but he’s definitely no older than 11. Maybe 10.”

That thought has your heart lurching in your chest, spinning your world on it’s axis once more.

“Why- why would he- he was covered in all those scars,” You start, running a heavy hand down your face. “They were from him. His blade- because his quirk is with his blood and- oh god, he was doing that to himself.”

Your heart collapses in on itself. It sits heavy at the bottom of your ribcage, weighing your entire body down with lead. It’s like you’re carrying a mountain with each step, and all you can think about is empty blue eyes and angry red scars.

“Why would he do that?” You ask quietly, eyes following your feet closely just to keep you moving. “Hurt himself just to do that? He can’t want to- there’s no way. Someone has to be making him- someone has to-“

Bakugou spins around, eyes like steel. “Kids’ll do anything to feel powerful.” He flicks his gaze down to his own hands, fingers twitching. Then he shakes his head, begins walking forward once more. “Even hurt themselves and others.”

“So you don’t think- you think he’s doing that all by himself? He can’t, that’s not, it can’t-“

“It can.” His voice is quiet, devoid of all the explosive inflection you’ve come to expect from him. “Trust me, I know.”

Bakugou’s walking in front of you, clad in his hero costume. His black mask is intact, but even without it you’re not sure he’d let you see his eyes. They gave too much away.

Bakugou keeps moving forward, hardly even turns back to make sure you’re still following. He’s quiet, strangely so, and you’re not used to this kind of silence with him. It’s odd- makes the already inky streets bleed darker shadows, every twist and turn heightening your anxiety. You walk a little closer to him.

He turns his head, red eyes catching you close behind him. His lip twitches up for a moment and he slows. Broad shoulder’s slot into place next to yours, and you swear the streets get a little less scary.

“I’ll find him.” He says. “I will.”

Then the silence hangs thick and heavy over the both of you.

Before you know it, you’re opening the door to your apartment building with tired limbs. Bakugou stays back, but you can feel his eyes watch you. Even through the glass when you shut the door behind you. You give him a half-hearted wave but it doesn’t feel right even to you.

You enter you apartment, immediately flicking all the lights on, tilting your lamp until it’s shooting light through every dark shadow. You know that’s not how it works- that the child used blood and not darkness to teleport, but it still helps ease your mind a bit. Anything to get rid of the blackness at the edges of your vision- the blackness that reminds you so much of pooling tar.

Curling your knees up to your chest, you press your back into the cushions of your couch. You wonder when the fear started settling in. At what point on the walk home that the adrenaline faded- when you started wanting the boy and his blood to disappear instead of being found.

You glance at the clock and then to your balcony door, rinse and repeat for the next few hours. Awake and fearful, practically begging Bakugou to show up. As the world seemed to grow more dangerous, you felt more and more helpless without him.

It was a thought that left you feeling even sicker than before, but you couldn’t deny the relief you felt at the sound of knocking.

“Hey,” You yawn, tiredly, sliding the door open for Bakugou. “You find him?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” He admits, brushing past you. “No fuckin’ trace. You sure he was a kid?”

“Positive.”

“And he was covered in scars?”

“Mhm.”

He drops on your couch, tipping his head all the way back with a groan. “I didn’t see any shitty brats. Sorry.”

The apology comes out sharp, a little sarcastic, but his eyes give him away. He is sorry. At least, as much as you can expect from him.

You drop down onto the other side of the couch, tucking your legs up close to your chest. There’s warmth clinging to the cushions, left-over from where you’d been sitting, but you’re still freezing- skin left with a perpetual chill.

Bakugou lets his head loll to the side, rolling against the back of your couch, until he’s looking directly at you. “You alright, leech?”

A part of you wants to lie- but you figure it wouldn’t do much good. He’d just see right through you anyways.

“No.” You say softly, winding your arms around your legs. “Sat here the whole time. Awake. Thinking.”

He looks at you a little strangely then, shifting until he’s sitting straight up.

“Something bad ‘s happening, I think.” Your voice comes out hollow. “With the boy. He’s- I’ve never seen anything like that. He said sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Mhm. Sorry. To me. And then he grabbed my arm.” You scratch at your arms, trying to keep the itch in your skin away. “I don’t- I think he knew. About my quirk somehow. He touched my skin. Under my sleeve.”

“What?” Bakugou jolts forward, eyes crazed. “Tell me again, from the fuckin’ top. Don’t leave a single goddamn thing out.”

So you recount it, once more, paying extra attention to the way Bakugou reacts to each one of your words. His eyebrows knit together, eyes hardly leaving your face for even a moment. It’s not until you explain the way you’d felt, when the boy had grabbed you, that Bakugou clenches his fist. His knuckles go white as he grits his teeth.

“He fuckin’ knew.” His voice is venomous, steely and serious. “He knew- but that doesn’t- I sat out. Watched- everything. Fuckin’ kid couldn’ta slipped past me. Must’ve come in the same way he got out.”

“You were outside?”

You question is swallowed up as Bakugou stands, gravely voice steamrolling entirely over your own.

“Fucker knew,” He seethes, crossing his arms. “He fuckin’ knew, and he got past me. Gonna- gonna find him. Swear to fuck-“

“He’s a child.” You try to protest, but Bakugou isn’t listening. “Not some crazy super villain and-“

He’s practically worked himself up into a frenzy now, muttering threats under his breath while he paces. You’re not exactly sure why he’s so upset, but he looks at you and suddenly there’s no mistaking the funny little crease in his eyebrows.

Worry.

You can help yourself then, standing and nearing him. Reaching out your hand until your gloved fingers make contact with his forearm.

“He’s just a child.” You say, eyes wide and imploring. “And he said sorry. It’s- I think he didn’t want to. Someone’s making him. So it’s not his fault, alright? He didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.”

Bakugou flicks his eyes down, to where your fingers are resting on his skin. He scrunches his nose up, but he doesn’t shake you off.

“This time.” He says, red eyes staring back into yours, his voice just as serious as before. “This time you’re fine. But it’s not- there’s not gonna be a fuckin’ next time, alright? I won’t- it’s just not gonna fuckin’ happen.”

You think he’s finished, but then Bakugou is flaring his nostrils, and clearing his throat. “‘m gonna find this fuckin’ kid, okay? Swear it.”

“I know.” You say, because you do know. When he looks at you like that, it’s clear there’s never any other possibility. Nothing but the future he carves out for himself. “I know you will.”

Bakugou nods, and after that it takes only seconds until he’s deflating. You’re almost sure you’ve forgotten your gloves then, when his chest settles and the angry red seeps out of him complexion so suddenly. But when you look down, you see nothing but silk where your skin should be.

“You didn’t sleep.” He finally says. “Kid used up some of your quirk, and you’re not fuckin’ tired?”

You look up at him. ��No. I- I am. Couldn’t fall asleep though. Freaked out and everything, you know?”

“You’re home now.”

“I know.” You say, finally stepping back and turning away. Wringing your hands together, you settle back into your spot on the couch. “I tried, earlier, to sleep, but I just keep seeing stuff. In the shadows, I mean.”

He looks at you a little weird, hardly for a second, before pursing his lips and shifting his eyes away.

“I know, I know, it’s dumb. Childish, probably.” You backtrack, a nervous, tired laugh leaving your lips. “Couldn’t help it though. Still can’t- actually, I have no idea how I’m gonna sleep tonight.”

He shifts on his feet, obviously uncomfortable. “You scared of the dark now or somethin’?”

It sounds even more ridiculous when he puts it’s like that- when he phrases it as something so minuscule. But it doesn’t feel tiny to you. The fear isn’t manageable at all when you think about retreating to your bedroom, cowering away from all it’s dark corners and crevices.

Well, you reason, tomorrow was a day off for you. Losing out on a night of sleep is probably the least expensive loss you could’ve suffered tonight.

“Maybe I’ll just stay up.” You finally decide, rubbing at your eyes. “I’m gonna- I’m gonna stay up, I think.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be fuckin’ ridiculous. You’re fallin’ asleep right now.”

“I’m not. I’m good.”

You lie and you’re sure Bakugou can see through it. Still, he says nothing, choosing instead to bide his time. But with each passing minute he squints his eyes, knits his eyebrows together a little more with each yawn that you try to suppress. He gives it another few seconds before swearing under his breath, spinning around until you’re only looking at his back.

“J-just sleep there.” He grumbles, pinched and tight while he clenches his fists at his sides. “‘s your fuckin’ house.”

“I can’t,” You yawn, once again trying to hide it behind your hand. “Where are you gonna sleep?”

“I’ll sleep later, ‘s fine. Stop complanin’.”

“I said it’s fine. ‘n besides, I’ll stay up, yeah? Nobody’s gonna fuckin’ get ya.” His voice is a little soft, and you think Bakugou knows it too, because then he’s clearing his throat. Loudly. Making a show of setting his shoulders back until he looks intimidating again. “A-and if you’re not sleepin’ in the next 5 fuckin’ minutes, you don’t gotta worry about anyone anyways because ‘m gonna kill you myself. So go the fuck to sleep already. Leech.”

You can’t help the giggle that leaves your mouth. Nor the second, louder laugh that tumbles from your mouth when he whips his head around at the sound.

“I get it.” You say gently. “I’ll sleep. But please don’t murder me while I’m at it, okay?”

Bakugou smiles something tiny and satisfied, but he covers it up by turning back around. By sinking to the floor a few feet in front of you, crossing his legs beneath him. He keeps his eyes trained forward, palm unturned and clearly ready to explode whatever lurked in the dark.

For lack of better words, he looked like a guard dog. The most blood thirsty one you’d ever seen, maybe, but that still didn’t change the fact that as long as he was around, nobody out to get you was leaving the room unscathed.

It was thought that settled your mind, had your heart slowing down in your chest. Enough to have you easing down into the cushions, stretching out on your couch with a tired sigh.

You try not to think about who is sitting directly in front of you. Try not to think about how you can’t tell if the blanket you’re using smells like him, or if he’s just sitting too close to tell. Try not to think about how easy it’d be to whisper something tiny-a thank you maybe, for everything he’s doing.

But you know he’d hate that. You know he’d pinch his face up, like you’d just burned him, and that knowledge of him only has you warming a little more.

So you pull the blanket up around your shoulders and settle instead for watching the back of his head as you drift off. The way he never stops moving- making sure to look at each and every corner of the room as often as he can.

//-//

oh my god y'all semester's finally over,, i cAN DO THINGS I LIKE AGAIN - pls my blog has been so dead for the last like, month but i swear im bout to revitalize tf out of it babey !!!! ;))))))

taglist: @fluffyviciousbunny @imsuperawkward @i-need-air @ahbeautifulexistence @brennabooz @jazzylove @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @katsuki-bakubabe @sorrythatspussynal @cloudsgathering @un-limit-edd @thekatsukisimp @the2ndl @officialtrashbusiness @waffleareniceandfluffy @monempathieetmoi @koiwoshinai @christianagrace9 @the-shota-king-masayuki @shy-panda02 @devastyle @shoto-supremacy00 @shotoful @falloutgirlzz

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou mha #bakugou bnha #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x self insert #bakugou fic #bakugou imagine #bnha fic #mha fic

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darthfrodophantom · 3 years

Text

Ectoberhaunt Day 5: Ouija Board

Summary: To get into the spooky season spirit, Tucker and Sam convince Danny to play a video game late at night, and Danny isn’t pleased about the subject of the video game.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34303123

Too Close to Home

“Let me get this straight,” Danny interrupted. “I fight ghosts - real ghosts - on a nightly basis. And now that I actually have a free night you want to take up the time that I should be sleeping to fight fake ghosts?”

He shook his head as he looked at his computer screen, the only light in his entire bedroom aside from the digital clock that showed the hour: 11:45. From the first-person view of the computer game on his screen, he watched the avatars of both of his friends attempt to throw basketballs into a hoop.

“But this is way more fun,” Tucker’s voice said over Danny’s headset. “And it hurts a lot less! Ah! Dang it Sam - you messed up my throw!”

Sam cackled triumphantly. “Better pay more attention to your timing then.”

Tucker groaned as his avatar abandoned the basketball for spray paint cans, which he chucked at Sam. “Besides Danny, we’re not fighting ghosts: we’re hunting them.”

“Fine, fight, hunt, whatever. I still do both of them,” Danny argued.

“Not like this you don’t,” Tucker grinned. “God he’s gonna get creamed.”

“You know Danny, maybe we should let you go to bed. You’re gonna ruin my perfect streak,” Sam teased.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Or maybe you’ll actually do better because you have a true ghost hunting professional on the team,” he defended. He had no idea why he was bragging - he’d just been given an out and given the late hour he should take it, but now it felt like he needed to defend his pride as a ghost hunter. …That thought sounded a little too similar to something his parents would say and he quickly dismissed it. “Besides, I played the tutorial, I know what I’m doing. I’m just trying to figure out why we’re doing this.”

“Because it’s spooky season,” Tucker replied with a hint of sarcasm.

“We are only five days into October, Tucker, and if you’re gonna keep doing this all month I am going to hit you with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick,” Sam threatened.

“I dunno, it might be worth it,” Tucker teased. “What do you think Danny?”

Danny shook his head, even though none of them could see it. “As the only person in this group who has actually been hit by the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick, I would back off,” he advised.

“Listen to Danny Tucker,” Sam chuckled as her avatar walked over to the white board to set up the hunt. “He’s actually speaking wisdom for once. Now come over here and pick out your gear.”

The playful teasing between best friends stopped as they actually got serious and picked out the gear they would need for their mission. Since Danny had no money, he couldn’t really participate in the conversation, but it seemed like Tucker and Sam had played this enough to know what they needed to bring. Sam started the mission, and their avatars found themselves inside the trailer looking at another whiteboard.

“Alright, looks like our ghost is named Thomas Clark and he responds to all of us,” Sam informed the group while Tucker’s avatar walked over to the shelves to equip supplies.

“Well that’s a dumb name for a ghost,” Danny complained as he looked at the bulletin board next to the computer. He had to squint at his screen to read them, but the articles were fairly legible and contained ghost stories he remembered hearing his parents talk about. It also had a recent article that he actually remembered running in USA Today proclaiming Amity Park as the most haunted city in the world - he didn’t know whether to feel proud or annoyed.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam agreed, though her voice was laced with sarcasm. “He should have gone with Thomas Phantom instead.”

Danny rolled his eyes as Tucker burst out laughing. “Oh yeah, now that sounds like a proper ghost,” Tucker added between laughs.

“I knew I was going to hate this,” Danny groaned under his breath. “Can we just get this over with?”

Sam’s avatar turned to face the new whiteboard. “Alright, fine. Objective one: find out what kind of ghost we’re dealing with - standard. Objective two: witness a ghost event.”

“I am a ghost event,” Danny smirked, causing Tucker to burst out laughing again.

“Objective three,” Sam snapped, “capture a photo of the ghost.”

Tucker’s avatar grabbed a camera and snapped a picture of Danny’s avatar. “Got one!” he proclaimed, which drove both boys into laughter.

“Objective four,” Sam said louder, “get a ghost to walk through salt.”

“What? That’s dumb. Everyone knows that’s an old wive’s tale,” Danny complained as he shook his head. Did the creators of this game actually do any real research before they made this game?

“Are you regretting this yet Sam?” Tucker asked as he finally stopped laughing.

“Let’s just get in the house,” she groaned. Danny smirked in triumph, and he could tell Tucker was sharing a similar smirk on his end.

They divided up equipment between the three of them, but not before Danny could comment on the inaccuracies of each of the pieces of equipment and how useless they’d be in an actual ghost fight. From faulty science to just being plain incorrect, Danny made sure to have pithy comments about all the equipment. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much that it had to be accurate - he was not his parents - but as a ghost and a ghost hunter, it just felt a little more personal than he wanted to admit.

Because he was the newest one, Danny got stuck with the Spirit Book (“What? Are they trying to imply all ghosts can’t write? That’s alivist!”) and the EMF Reader (“...Okay that one’s actually accurate”) because they were apparently the easiest to use. Laden down with their gear they walked up to the small house. Sam’s avatar unlocked the door and they headed inside. Danny noticed the tonal shift immediately. Outside he could hear wind and crickets chirping, but once he stepped inside the doorway, an oppressive silence covered his headphones. It reminded him of the sensation on a pressurised airplane and it unnerved and unsettled him...a lot more than he planned to admit to his friends.

“Alright, spread out,” Sam instructed. “See if you can find the ghost room.”

Ghost room, right. He remembered that from the tutorial. It had been the garage in the tutorial, so he figured he should start there. He walked back through the dark house, turning lights on as he went. It wasn’t because he was scared - absolutely not, he was a real ghost hunter! - it was just much easier to see. He pulled out the EMF reader and walked into the garage. It had an eerie quality to it, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he remembered seeing the ghost there last time (a mean looking (and inaccurate) ghost covered in blood and holding an axe) or if it was because he was alone and the room was so large, but he did not like being in here.

“You know, in the tutorial, the ghost was a bloody axe-man,” Danny remarked over the walkie talkie.

“Yeah, I think he’s standard in the tutorial,” Sam remarked offhand. He did not want to admit how good it felt to hear her voice in the oppressive silence of the house. They were clearly focused on their tasks, and that was a good thing, but it felt a lot better hearing their voices.

“Red blood,” he continued, simply to trigger more conversation. He didn’t get any EMF readings, so he gratefully left the garage. “Not ectoplasm. It’s like they didn’t even try.”

“Ugh, Danny, they’re going for a horror aesthetic, not something real,” Sam sighed.

“What? Ectoplasm-stains are horrifying,” he countered as he walked through the rest of the first story. Still no EMF readings.

“Only when it’s yours,” Sam said, and the weight of those words echoed in the silence of the house that made him stop moving for a moment. “No cold spots upstairs,” Sam informed them to break the silence.

“Yeah, no EMF downstairs,” Danny added. “I’m gonna check out the basement.” That’s where they loved to hang out in the real world, so it seemed the next best choice.

“Oh hang on, if you’re going down there I’ll go with you,” Tucker spoke up.

Danny stopped halfway down the stairs. “It’s fine, I’m pretty used to basements,” he joked weaky.

“Yeah, well the last time you went into a basement alone with untested ghost equipment you died.” Tucker said it light-heartedly as a joke, and it was one they’d said a bunch of times before, but somehow it just didn’t feel the same in this tense environment. It felt too...personal.

He waited for Tucker’s avatar to appear before they walked down the stairs together into the basement. Unlike Sam’s basement or his own, this basement had a much creepier feel to it, with the foreboding worn brick walls and discolored cement flooring. Honestly he was glad Tucker went down there with him because it just felt better having another person there.

“Sam, maybe you should get down here with the thermometer,” Tucker mentioned as they both walked through the basement. “Because we’re not--”

Danny whirled around as he heard something thud hard against the ground behind him while he jumped in his chair. The EMF reader in his hand jumped up to three dots and blared at them while he stared at a box of tools now on the ground. The ghost was clearly in the room. Danny half-expected his ghost sense to go off, but he had to remind himself it was just a video game. There wasn’t actually a ghost here.

“What happened?” Sam’s urgent voice said over the walkies.

“Ghost knocked something off the shelf down here,” Tucker said as his avatar walked over to the toolbox. “Ooh! We’ve got fingerprints!” he cheered as his avatar shined a light on a glowing handprint.

“Oh that’s so not how that works,” Danny complained, just to help lighten the mood. Honestly he felt a bit jumpy knowing that the ghost was in the room...and he couldn’t sense him. He’d dealt with invisible ghosts before, but his ghost sense always gave him a vague idea of where they were...except for now. He turned in his chair to check the room behind him. No ghosts, no ghost sense. It’s just in the computer game.

“Figures that the ghost would be in the basement,” Sam remarked as her avatar walked down the stairs and opened her journal. Right! Journal. Danny opened his and placed their one piece of evidence inside. The sooner they got all of those the sooner they could leave, and he really liked that idea.

“I’m not seeing freezing temperatures, but it is a little cooler than the rest of the house,” she continued. “So let’s start setting stuff up in here. Tucker get the DOTS up and I’ll place the camera. Danny place the spirit book.”

Okay, this wasn’t so bad with the three of them in the room. He could hear them moving around and he could see them, so it made him feel a bit better. And there was still no sign of the ghost. He put the spirit book down near the toolbox and looked away from it. Maybe the ghost wouldn’t write in it while he was watching? He didn’t know.

“Ooh!” Tucker cried excitedly.

“Did you see it in the DOTS?” Sam asked.

“No - Ouija board! Oh yeah!” Tucker cheered. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

“Oh I love these,” Sam agreed. Danny’s brow furrowed as he looked at the screen. Why were they acting so happy - didn’t they forget there was a ghost in this room with them?

“Hang on, let Danny try the Ouija board,” Tucker suggested. “You know, because he’s never seen it before.”

“Ooh good idea,” Sam agreed. Danny walked over to where they were and saw Sam’s avatar set down a light brown board.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sus about your motives right now,” Danny said. He had a bad feeling about this...

“No Danny, it’s fine. These are actually pretty cool in this game,” Sam assured him. She quickly explained how the Ouija boards worked in the game and what questions to ask, and against his better judgment, he walked over and activated the board. The numbers and letters glowed orange against the light color of the wood.

He decided to start with something easy, so he swallowed and forced his voice to come out clear. “How old are you?” He jumped in his chair and his avatar backed up quickly as the planchette moved across the letters.

“Y - O - U - N - G,” Tucker read. “A young ghost.”

“Oh God, I hope that doesn’t mean it’s the crawling baby ghost,” Sam sighed. “I really hate that one.”

“Ask it something else,” Tucker encouraged.

“I don’t know,” Danny hedged. For some reason the Ouija board set him on edge. Something deep in his gut did not like this. Even if it wasn’t real and he kept telling himself it wasn’t real, he didn’t like it.

“No dude, it’s okay,” he assured him. “You can ask two questions before a significant sanity drop. Just ask it one more and you can go back to the truck.”

He very much wanted to go back to the truck. He just needed a chance to regroup. He was a ghost and fought ghosts for a living and he could not understand why this game unnerved him so much. But Danny Phantom wasn’t scared of ghosts, any kind of ghosts, and he wasn’t about to show it on a video game. “Fine,” he groaned as he picked up the board again. “Who died?”

This time he knew what to expect, and didn’t jump as much as the planchette started moving. First to the D, then to the A. Over to the N, then looping back to the N. It ended on a Y.

All three of them stopped moving. The silence became even more deafening around them. Danny dropped the Ouija board and backed up as far as the game would let him. He felt a cold sweat drip down his back. Danny. It spelled Danny. How did it know his name?

“...That has got to be a coincidence,” Sam finally said after the silence that seemed to stretch on forever.

“The ghost’s name must be Danny,” Tucker suggested, voice full of forced bravado.

“...No it’s Thomas,” Sam said slowly. “It must just be reading your username to scare you,” she decided.

“No my...my username is GhostBoy,” Danny reminded them, finally feeling like he could speak.

“Is this game actually haunted? Danny, what did you do?” Tucker accused, voice bordering on hysterics.

“What? I didn’t do anything!” Danny yelled back. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He put a hand up to feel his breath - still normal temperature. He looked around his room. There wasn’t a ghost here. But how did it know his name? And that he did almost die in a basement? “You’re the one that told me to use it!”

“Okay, let’s just calm down,” Sam interrupted. “It’s gotta be a coincidence. Let me try it and see if it says the same thing or gives me my name. It could be a new update that checks the name on the Steam account or something.”

Sam moved closer to the board, but before she could touch it all their flashlights flickered.

“Shit!” Tucker yelled.

“Run!” Sam cried in a panic.

Danny followed them up the stairs to the main level. The idea of running from a ghost, not fighting it, was so foreign to him, but he had no choice. He was powerless here. No ghost powers, no weapons, no thermos. He was completely helpless against this ghost.

He bolted for the garage, the one other room he knew how to get to. Sam’s avatar was running next to him. He could hear footsteps behind him and he swore as he ran towards the garage. Sam diverted into another room, but he continued into the garage. He found a locker he’d opened before and rushed into it. He barely remembered to turn off his flashlight and he waited. Seconds passed and he realized he was holding his breath. No...not holding his breath. Not breathing. He looked down at his hands and saw the glowing white gloves. When...when did he change into his ghost form?

Sam’s voice over the walkie startled him. “What the--? Oh my G--” The walkie feed cut to static and then nothing.

“I...I think it got Sam,” Tucker’s voice said over the walkie. Danny turned on his flashlight and saw that it was no longer blinking. He threw his head back in relief. The hunt was over. He climbed back out of his locker, keeping the door open again just in case.

“Dude, she was running right next to me. It must have followed her instead of me,” Danny told him. “Ugh, well what are we going to do now? She’s the only one who knew what she was doing!”

“Wait, I thought you would be a pro because you’re a ‘professional ghost hunter’ - isn’t that what you kept saying?” Tucker teased.

“Yeah, well I lied! This is nothing like ghost hunting!” he argued as he walked out of the garage. He was going back to the trailer. “Real ghost hunters would bring some kind of weapon and wouldn’t just run around helpless! We should just call it.”

“What? No! We’ve got two more pieces of evidence to collect. And we haven’t done any of the objectives! Tucker retorted.

“Fine!” he snapped as he walked down the main hallway. “if you want to keep looking for clues you can, but I’m going back to the trailer to check--”

The front door slammed shut. His flashlight blinked again.

“Shit!” Tucker cried.

Danny could hear the footsteps behind him. He could feel a heart thumping in his headset. He started running off to a room but stopped. No, he was not running again. He was going to stare this ghost down and prove that Danny Phantom was not scared of some ghost. His image struck fear in the hearts of ghosts and his name carried respect in the Ghost Zone. He was not going to let some video game ghost get the better of him and spook him with some Ouija board trick.

He turned around to face it, camera at the ready. If he was going down, he was getting a picture of it. The ghost blinked in the hallway and Danny saw the cause of his anxiety for the first time. The ghost floated down the hallway, with white hair and a black and white jumpsuit. It...it was him. The ghost was Phantom.

He completely forgot to take a picture as his own image rushed at him. He saw two gloved hands cover over the screen and then everything went dark. He heard the crash of breaking glass, saw a strange underground cavern for a second, and then he was back in a foggy blue version of the house.

The ghost of Sam’s avatar approached him, and he heard her laughing over the headset. It sounded like she’d been laughing for awhile. “Oh my god Danny, did you see the ghost?” she asked between laughs.

“It...that was...oh my God,” he groaned. It all made sense. Spelling Danny was likely an Easter egg, a cute nod to his name of Danny Phantom. The fact that it happened in the basement was just a coincidence, because it’s a creepy spot and a commonly haunted area. He hadn’t summoned anything. He wasn’t being targeted by some ghost in the computer. It was just an Easter egg paying homage to him.

Suddenly all the stress left him and he laughed. God, it felt so good to laugh after all that panic. This game had gotten him so worked up and over what? Over a ghost that looked like himself? Suddenly it all seemed so silly that it scared him that much. He had felt actual dread and fear, enough to trigger an unconscious transformation out of a need to protect himself, but there weren’t actually any real consequences. Now he just got to walk around unhindered in this ghostly version of the house, but nothing else actually happened.

Sam laughed along with Danny. “So you did see it then?”

“It was...oh my god Sam it was me! It looked just like me!”

“I know!” she exclaimed. “As soon as I saw it I forgot to keep running and stared. So of course it killed me. I did get a picture though,” she bragged.

“Oh man. I meant to, but I was just too stunned.” Now that he felt much better, he decided to wander around the house following Tucker who, for some reason, was still trying to finish the level on his own.

Sam suspiciously stopped her laughing. “Wait...Danny, your voice sounds weird. Are you...are you in your ghost form?”

Danny bit his lip as a slight blush graced his cheeks. “I don’t want to hear it.” But the telltale whoosh of the glowing rings turning him back to his human form seemed to be all the confirmation she needed. Except, he didn’t hear her laugh.

“...Danny, I wanted to apologize,” she said, and that made Danny stop moving and look quizzically at the screen.

“What? Apologize for what?” he asked.

“For goading you into playing this game,” she clarified, her voice surprisingly serious. “While I’ve been hanging out here in the spirit world, I realized why this game set you off so much.”

“What do you mean? I never said it set me off,” Danny defended. How could she possibly know that? He thought he was playing it pretty cool.

“Oh please,” she scoffed. “You’re in your ghost form and you were panicking after the Ouija board thing.”

“Hey you would panic too if--”

“Danny I’m trying to say that I get it,” she interrupted. “Being near a ghost without your powers? Without any weapons? Being powerless? It’s one of your biggest nightmares, that your powers will fail when you need them. And this game, it’s too close to home.”

Danny stopped moving and stared at the screen, because she was absolutely right. This was too close to home. How many times did he have to check to make sure his ghost sense wasn’t actually going off? How many times did he keep thinking about how similar everything felt to his own experiences? How unnerved he was about a ghost in the basement? It was too similar to his real life...except he had the tools he needed in his real life. Not a flashlight and some dumb spirit book, but actual real tools and powers and weapons, but here they were all taken away from him. Everything he relied on to fight ghosts had been stripped from him in the game and trapped him helpless in a house with his friends. Of course that bothered him. It was, as Sam said, one of his more recurring nightmares.

“...Yeah I think I’m good never playing this game again,” Danny admitted, the closest he planned to get to acknowledging everything she said was true.

“Honestly? I don’t blame you,” Sam agreed softly. “I think it’s easier for us because we’re used to this role: when there’s a ghost in the area, we help figure out what’s going on and support you. It’s not all that different from this game,” she explained. Her ghostly avatar followed Tucker out of the house and he followed after them. “But when you’re used to doing the fighting and defending and can’t...I guess it’s probably harder to separate yourself from the game.”

He reached behind him and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. It was too similar to his daily life, and as he tried to argue at the beginning, he didn’t need to hunt fake ghosts poorly when he knew how to fight real ghosts well. “You know you sound like Jazz,” he pointed out, trying to lighten the mood and change the subject.

“Wow, you’re going to insult me after I tried to help you?” Sam scoffed. “See if I ever help you again!”

Danny smiled at the screen, glad to be back to the teasing. He definitely felt more relaxed and more like himself. “Oh look, Tucker’s finally calling it quits,” Danny observed as Tucker closed the door to the trailer.

“God, I can’t wait to find out if he saw you.” He could hear her grinning through the headset and honestly he felt the same. Out of all of them, Tucker would be the most excited about this addition.

The screen changed over to the menu screen, showing all their accomplished objectives. It also meant that all three party members could talk to each other again. “I can’t believe you left me!” Tucker complained. “It’s even worse when you’re in there on your own! Do you know how much more evidence we needed to collect? Um, a ton!”

Sam laughed, and Danny had to join in. “Okay so we are sorry about that, but Tucker did you ever see the ghost?”

“No, which is probably why I’m the only one that survived!” he complained.

“Oh my god Sam, he didn’t see it,” Danny groaned.

“Oh my god.”

“No wait, didn’t see what?” Tucker asked. His voice had calmed down a bit and was colored with curiosity.

“Tucker...the ghost was Danny,” Sam told him.

“Uh no, we clarified his name was Thomas,” Tucker corrected.

Sam and Danny both groaned. “No Tucker, the ghost was Danny Phantom. It was skinned to look like Phantom,” she clarified.

Tucker’s line sat silent for a long time before he finally exploded in a shower of shock, excitement, and regret. “NO WAY! No! That is so cool! I mean I knew the developers were fans, but this is so cool! Like literally the best tribute ever. Oh my god I can’t believe I missed it! No!” he cried. He was so loud into the microphone that Danny had a hard time believing Tucker didn’t wake his parents.

“It’s why both of us died,” Danny explained. “We were just too shocked seeing it.”

“We’re going back in. I need to see this,” Tucker demanded.

Danny bit his lip. He was not going back in. He meant it when he said he was done. He almost had his explanation on his lips before Sam spoke up first. “I doubt it’ll show up two times in a row. I Googled it and the skin will be here for the whole month of Halloween as a random draw, so you’ve got time to see it. But if you want to try again tonight, I’ll keep playing if you want. Danny...he needs to get some sleep.”

“What? No, it's so much easier with three people. Come on Danny,” Tucker pleaded.

“Nah, Sam’s right, I should go to bed. Gotta be rested for those real ghosts tomorrow,” Danny chuckled. “Besides, being killed by my own image was a little weird.” And also a little too close to home, considering some of his memories of Dan.

“Yeah, this game isn’t Danny’s jam,” Sam explained simply. He had a feeling Sam would talk to Tucker more about what they discussed while their avatars were dead, and honestly he didn’t mind. He didn’t want to keep secrets from Tucker, he just really didn’t want to talk about it any more tonight.

Tucker sighed. “Alright, fine, you’re off the hook. At least you gave it a try though.”

“I did, and you’re both gonna owe me one for doing it too,” Danny reminded them.

“Dude, pretty sure you’re in the negatives when it comes to IOUs from us,” Tucker pointed out with a good-natured laugh. “Testing out inventions, excuses at school, doing your homework, remembering the thermos when you forget it, distracting your parents…”

“Okay okay, I get it,” Danny groaned as he left the screen and exited out of the game. “Well fine, then I’m less in the negative now. And on that happy subject, I’m going to bed. Good night guys.”

“Good night Danny,” Sam replied. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Danny almost hung up on their private Discord server when he heard Tucker speak up. “Hey Danny, wait.”

“What?” he asked curiously, his mouse still hovering over the disconnect sign.

“The type of ghost...was a Phantom.”

I’ve never cross-posted on tumblr before, so this will be a first! I hope you enjoy!

#ectober month 2021 #ectoberhaunt trick #ouija board #Danny Phantom #phasmophobia #light angst #2k21 prompt ouija board #2k21 day 5

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